#overwhelmed and underdressed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojosoups · 2 months ago

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cw: smut, drink thief gojo, spitting, spit kink, unprotected sex, creampies, f!reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI, slightly proofread

gojo satoru is the type of boyfriend to take your drink from your hand when you least expect it, lift it over your head and out of your reach, and drink through the same straw like the menace he is.

and whenever you make a snarky comment and call him gross for ruining your drink, he reminds you how he spat in your mouth last night, or perhaps you need a memory refresher.

"'toruuu," you whine, getting on your tippy toes to grab your drink from your ridiculously tall boyfriend.

cursing your boyfriend's genes for his tall height, you cross your arms over your chest, watching helplessly as he takes a big long sip through your straw. your expression is sour as you glare daggers at him, and your boyfriend is none the wiser, as a goofy grin decorates his (stupidly handsome) face.

humming in approval, he takes a few more sips like the greedy big back he is before giving you your drink back.

"ugh, gross satoru," you say, looking at the lip gloss residue coating your straw, pushing the drink away.

"babe, i literally spat in your mouth just last night, and you think this is gross?" he smirks, leaning down and cornering you against the counter.

a pink hue coating your cheeks as he leaves you standing speechless, your mouth open wide in shock at his audacity.

“careful,” he says, thumb running over your glossy bottom lip, “or you’ll catch a fly.” you roll your eyes at him, resisting the urge to bite down on his thumb.

"you're insufferable," you scoff, the drink long gone as he grabs you by the hips. hands trailing down to the curve of your ass, before stopping at the back of your thighs. you squeal as he lifts you onto the marble counter, spreading your thighs and nestling himself in between them.

on instinct, your arms make their way to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck as he leans down, minty breath fanning your face and lips inches away from yours.

"I'm what?" he asks with a cheeky grin, ocean-blue eyes glowing intimidatingly as he looks down at you.

your breath hitches as his hands run up and down the expanse of your thighs, all thoughts leaving your pretty little head as you look up at him.

"shut up," you say, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

groaning at the sweet taste of your lips, satoru's hands make their way to your jaw. you gasp, panting for air as your boyfriend pulls your head back, "come on, open up pretty girl," you whine, his fingers gripping your cheeks, squishing them together to open your mouth.

gathering saliva in his mouth, he spits in your mouth, pulling out a moan from you. swallowing obediently, you feel him working fast at underdressing you, tearing your clothes off your body, and leaving you bare on the cold kitchen counter.

you whine in protest, fisting his t-shirt and helping him undress. your fingers running through his ivory happy trail, trailing down to the band of his sweatpants and tugging them down along with his boxers to reveal his angry leaking cock. precum decorating his pretty tip, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, he aligns his cock against your wet entrance.

"pussy so wet for me," he groans, the tip of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, making you squirm underneath him.

"fuck-" you squeal, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick grith as he bottoms out in your warm, velvet walls. fingers digging into his biceps to ground yourself, he increases his pace. a handful of your tits in his hold, squeezing them and twirling your puckered nipples in his cold fingers as his balls repeatedly smack against your ass, filling the once quiet apartment with sounds of skin slapping skin.

choking on your moans, your toes curl as his thick cockhead thrusts up into your sweet spot. a finger making its way between your thighs, rubbing circles on your clit, pleasure overwhelming your senses as tears stream down your cheeks.

your vision cloudy as you feel a pinch to your sensitive clit, making you wrap your legs around his slim waist, pulling him in closer.

with a final thrust, he bottoms out in your tight pussy, mushroom tip kissing your cervix as he cums inside your pulsing walls. lips fluttering around his cock as your pussy tries to milk him dry, you cumming undone around his pretty cock with a moan.

a/n: idk how I feel about this lol.. but enjoy <3

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 5 months ago

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Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

Masterlist

---

It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking.

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble.

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day.

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes.

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.”

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly.

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him.

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body.

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs.

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.”

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime.

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down.

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.”

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.”

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up.

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?”

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?”

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.”

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball.

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?”

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt.

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in.

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh.

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly.

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly.

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you.

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in.

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before.

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth.

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?”

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you.

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin.

“Yes,” you cry out.

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers.

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him.

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.”

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up.

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you.

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him.

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back.

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth.

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls.

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat.

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt.

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong.

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him.

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes.

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you.

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open.

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock.

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller.

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest.

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips.

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou joel #tlou fanfic #joel x reader #joel tlou

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becgenius · 6 months ago

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BIKER!SYLUS WHO...

!! street racing au, reader not mc, female reader, established relationship, petnames, reader has hair, smut, semi-public sex not rlly, size kink, m!receiving oral, dacryphilia, helmet stays on during sex, hair pulling kinda, cum swallowing, masturbation, lightly proofread, lowercase intended

wc. 1.5k

nsfw under the cut. minors dni.

biker!sylus who invites you to every one of his street races.

he says it's because you're good luck. it's really because the one thing he loves more than winning these races is seeing you proudly run up to congratulate him after doing so.

you both know he doesn't need 'good luck' to win; winning has always been a guarantee for him.

biker!sylus who gets you your own set of bike gear when you start dating.

your own pair of gloves, your own jackets, boots, helmets, body armor, balaclavas - you name it.

not to mention that he buys you multiple of each. a set in your favorite color, one in the color he loves seeing you wear, and one that matches his own gear.

biker!sylus who, nonetheless, thinks you look the best when wearing his gear.

biker!sylus who therefore loves to give you his leather jacket to watch his races. he wants everyone to know that you're his; that you’re there for him, and him only.

the cold air of the night nips at your cheeks as you stand watching the race. you're pretty sure there are five racers in total on the track, but everyone's focused on the two bikes practically leading the race.

you know that sylus is one of them. however you aren't sure if he's on the first or second bike. definitely the first, who were you kidding.

the fluorescence of the colorful traffic lights and blaring headlights contrasts sharply with the night's darkness and overwhelms your vision, and there’s the bass-boosted music from a nearby sports car clashing with the conversations of strangers and screech of tires against asphalt.

it seems that tonight's commentator - some guy with a megaphone - is also having a difficult time distinguishing the two leading racers. the sound is all distorted and you can only catch phrases at a time. you hear him refer to the racers as bike a and bike b. not helpful at all.

mentally scolding your past self for underdressing, you hug sylus's gifted jacket closer to your body and press your legs together as you stand among the crowd: your best attempt at preserving body heat. you're beginning to get annoyed with the loud audience around you and the way the wind is blowing strands of your hair into your glossed lips.

eventually, thankfully, one of the bikes ahead wins. you still haven't identified the driver; nevertheless, you approach the finish line… and so does what seems like every other person around you.

he sees you before you see him. you're about to call him but he catches your attention by a simple flash of his bike's headlights.

you see him leaning against his bike, stuffing a wad of cash into his jacket's inside pocket.

"there you are, dear. did you enjoy the race?" he removes his helmet, in turn revealing the sweaty, sticky mess of hair underneath, and holds his free hand out to you.

"sy! i almost lost you!" despite your outcry, you still manage to take his hand and allow him to help you onto the back of his bike.

"don't i always tell you to look for me wherever the winner is?" humble as always. but you can't blame him.

he slips the helmet he had just worn over your head and adjusts the chin strap. from your neck up, you're enveloped in the heat that was previously trapped inside the headgear. finally, he flips the visor down, and your vision tints black as your breath fogs up a spot on the glass.

biker!sylus who thinks it’s the cutest thing, seeing you perched atop his huge bike, wearing not only his helmet but also his jacket, both much too large on you.

biker!sylus who is more than happy to humor you when you tell him that you have a reward for him after winning a particularly close race.

biker!sylus who, after parking and turning his bike off in his private garage, stays put, because you told him to. he’s suspicious, curious, but never doubtful.

with the amount of vehicles parked within, it may as well be considered parking lot. fortunately, all you see are sylus’s insane collection of cars and bikes. no people in sight.

he's, again, leaned up against his bike, holding you upright as you press your chest against his and kiss him.

the kissing is deep and passionate and he loves it because he loves the feeling of your lips on his. but the kiss is also too short.

he is confused when you abruptly pull away from him wearing a sly grin. he's even more confused when you take the helmet from his bike seat and place it over his head, concealing his face.

"what's all this now, hm sweetie?" he asks.

biker!sylus whose eyes widen in both shock and understanding when you slowly lower yourself before him; not that you can see it though, from your tinted reflection in his helmet.

" 'm giving you your reward, of course."

biker!sylus who helps you undo his belt and shove his pants down enough to where you can comfortably hold his exposed erection in your hands.

he's dense and girthy, and it takes two of your hands to fully grasp him.

you look up, innocently smiling, to his concealed face as you kneel below him, soft cheek pressed against his hard dick before you slide his tip into your now open mouth.

he groans from above. loud. the helmet does nothing to muffle his noises, you learn.

"i love seeing this side of you, baby…" you feel his fingers run across the sides of your head, pulling hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail.

there's something that turns him on so much about seeing your seemingly innocent eyes gaze up at him while doing such a crude act as sucking his dick. he becomes impossibly harder inside your mouth.

you give him an agreeing hm in response, lips still surrounding his cock, and the vibrations send shivers down his spine.

tears run down your sore cheeks when you begin to pick up your pace. your jaw hurts from forcing it open so long and hollowing your cheeks for this amount of time has made them sensitive.

your head bobs itself efficiently up and down his length. you’re mindful of your teeth, and you use your tongue to swirl around his girth.

the only noises heard in sylus' garage were his moans, your gagging, as well as the squelching and slurping of you sucking him dry.

you don't notice that he releases your hair to wipe your fallen tears, and you gladly accept the attention. "such a good girl. you look so pretty sucking my cock like this."

his sweet, albeit vulgar, words were getting to you, and you feel yourself becoming more and more aroused.

so while your dominant hand is wrapped around sylus' dick, jerking off the length around his base that your mouth couldn't reach, your free hand slips down under your waistband and between your thighs to relieve your aching clit.

you continue sucking him off at that same pace, until he suddenly gets impatient. his hands find their way back to your head and guides it back and forth at a much faster pace.

at this point, you relax, fully allowing sylus to take control. your only focus is to keep your lips wrapped around his cock and to not choke; that, and your hand in your pants.

"fuck, princess, i'm gonna cum." he spits out in between pants. he flips his visor up to breathe in the fresh air and you notice that the screen's been completely fogged. "i want you to come too. think you do that for me?"

his head falls back after he sees your nod and a loud moan escapes from the back of his throat. your fingers move faster and press harder on your clit as you let sylus direct your head at whichever speed he pleases.

his cock twitches in your mouth, a telltale sign, before his hand on the back of your head stops moving and your mouth is suddenly filled with sylus's cum instead of his dick, which he pulls out with a pop.

you reach your own climax in seconds, eyes rolling and mouth hanging open as your fingers speed up and your cunt spasms around nothing.

sylus's cum is close to spilling out from the corners of your mouth as you fully take in your orgasm, but he stops it from doing so when he presses a gentle finger under your chin, sealing your lips and commanding an authoritative "swallow" that makes you do so without thinking twice.

he fully removes the helmet to catch his breath, chest dramatically heaving. you finally make eye contact with his dilated pupils.

he smirks at your dazed state, finding the whole situation amusing.

"who knew you had it in you?" he chuckles, shaking his head, "you're a naughtier girl than you look."

biker!sylus who wins street races, but only considers himself a winner as long as he has you to show him that he is!!!!!!

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augustinewrites · 2 years ago

Text

“let me take you to dinner tonight.”

you look up from the handful of tulips you’re binding with twine to meet reo’s expectant gaze.

“no.”

“come on,” he grins, taking the bouquet and placing it with the others. “we eat together all the time. in fact, we’ve already shared one morning coffee and one afternoon picnic. that’s basically two dates.”

“you mean the morning you brought me an overpriced coffee and the afternoon you almost fought a pigeon over french fries in front of my flowers?”

he doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with your statement, nodding fervently. “yeah. we’ve covered morning and afternoon. the next natural course of action is to have dinner together.”

he must read the hesitation in your expression, placing a hand over yours. electricity zips through your veins, but you don’t pull away.

“hey, no pressure. no expectations,” he tells you softly. “just think of it as dinner between friends.”

“can i at least think about it?”

“of course.” he checks his watch. “you have about ten hours to decide because i kind of already made a reservation.”

of course he did. because for all of your banter, he knows you could never say no to him.

“okay, fine, i’ll go out with you. but only because you’re cute when you beg.” you decide, rolling your eyes when he does a quick fist pump.

“i am cute, thank you. and i know i said to think of it as dinner between friends, but if at any point you feel the overwhelming urge to kiss me, you have my complete consent.”

“go to work, reo,” you laugh, gently pushing his shoulder.

“i’ll text you the details!”

_____

reo isn’t sure why he’s so nervous. he’s always been great at first dates– better than average, some might say. but something’s different this time around. maybe it’s the restaurant’s lighting, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s his first date with you.

he’d come a little early and ordered a bottle of wine, knee bouncing under the table as he scrolled through his phone in an attempt to chase his nerves away.

thankfully it’s not long before he spots the hostess leading you to the table (a few more minutes and he certainly would have spiraled). he’s quick to stand, walking around the table to greet you.

“hi,” he says, handing you a bouquet of roses before pulling your seat out for you.

“these are beautiful, thank you,” you say, reo beaming as you gingerly hug the blooms to your chest.

once you’re both seated, he sneaks a glance at you before opening his menu. you look a little nervous, restlessly shifting in your chair and shifting your gaze around the room.

“i’m sorry,” you blurt, curling in on yourself as if you’re embarrassed. “this place is– i probably should have googled it first. i’m so underdressed, i feel like everyone’s looking at me...”

“of course they’re all looking at you. you’re the prettiest person in the room.”

(and, oh man, the way you look at him when he says that…it was like being bathed in soft sunshine. he could sit there and bask in it all day.)

but you lift your menu to hide your bashful expression and reo reaches across the table to pour you a bottle of wine, just to give himself something to do with his hands.

“everything’s so expensive,” you murmur.

the restaurant he’d chosen was one he was familiar with, customary for business meetings. he supposed it was on the higher end of the price range, but it only added to his ability to impress.

money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy you a nice dinner and a pretty good bottle of wine.

“i asked you out, i’m paying.”

“we can just split it–”

“it’s fine,” he waves off. “but if you insist, you can just cover the next one.”

you look up from your menu, amused. “we just sat down and you’re already asking me on a second date?”

he meets your gaze, grinning. “can you blame me?”

_____

despite the initial shock you’d received upon entering the restaurant, you slowly feel yourself begun to loosen up. maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the fact that reo is…admittedly a really good date.

(not just because he’s nice to look at, in a nice shirt with the two topmost buttons undone and trousers that hug his rear perfectly)

as the night wears on, you tell him a bit about yourself. about the things you like to do in your free time, your pet at home, how you ended up running a flower stall in the concrete jungle of downtown tokyo. he listens intently when you talk, asking questions here and there to convey his interest.

though he mostly keeps the conversation focused on you, he tells you about himself too. he talks about the recreational league he plays with on the weekends and the roommate that’s been his best friend since high school. he even talks about the charity gala he’s going to next weekend, representing his family’s business (it’s legit, you can google it! he laughs).

you actually know of the gala he’s talking about. it’s an annual fundraiser, and the order they’d put in at the flower shop you used to work at was one of the most expensive you’d ever seen.

he insists on ordering dessert, the two of you sharing a piece of cheesecake as the night draws to a close. but before it does, you have to ask,

“why did you ask me out?”

he looks at you, seeming genuinely confused by your question. “what do you mean?”

you set your fork down, shrugging. “i’m not really your…type.”

“i have a type?”

“influencers, ceo’s daughters, models…” you say, to list a few.

“you did google me when i was in the bathroom,” he laughs. he doesn’t seem offended, just amused.

you did google him, which is how you know he’s had a string of high profile relationships - and eventual breakups.

“your last date,” you remember. “why didn’t you see her again?”

he takes another bite of the cheesecake, chewing thoughtfully before answering, “nothing was wrong with her. she just weren’t right for me.”

“but i am?”

he pauses, then answers confidently, “i think you might be, yeah.”

“is this the part where you tell me that we’re soulmates?” you tease, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours under the table. you’re trying to maintain a cool composure, but your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

“no, because i’m a businessman,” he answers, nudging you back. “i believe in free will. when i see an opportunity, i just go for it. i’m not going wait for the universe to decide when i’ll get to be with my one true love.”

“so you believe in the human experience. subjective and objective choices. what about fate?”

“isn’t fate just a result of everyone’s choices? something inevitable, unavoidable.”

“description’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” you counter. “think of it this way, i chose to set up my stall outside the restaurant, but it was fate that you were heading into it that night, which led to me being in this moment with you.”

“one could argue that was just coincidence,” he points out.

“you could. but maybe it was serendipity.”

“now you’re just making up words,” he laughs, prompting you to throw your napkin at him.

then he leans his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin atop them. “to put it simply— i am here right now. it wasn’t some inevitable thing because i chose to be here. with you.”

influencers, ceo’s daughters, models. he could be with anyone else in japan, but he chose to be here with you. at the beginning of the night, you weren’t really sure what to expect from him, judging from your brief encounters at your flower stall. you’d known he was decently charming, sure, but tonight you’re getting the full picture.

and the way he looks at you now…it was like you hung the moon and stars.

“i like when you say it like that,” you admit, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks.

“the philosophy course i took in university is paying off then.”

you’re about to do something completely stupid like kiss him when you realize just how quiet it is in the restaurant. you’d been so distracted, so enamoured with the man in front of you that everything else had blurred into the background.

you lean back to look around. it’s completely empty, save for the waitstaff and hostess.

“did we stay past closing?” you frown, wondering how you’d lost track of time.

“it’s fine,” he assures you, reaching across the table to place a hand over yours. “i told you i made a reservation.”

“for the entire restaurant?!”

again, he doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with your statement. “what did you think i meant?”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock fluff #it's the flower shop au

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db0xtae · 9 days ago

Text

Winning the Breakup | Chapter 3

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

⋆˚࿔ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

⋆˚࿔ Warnings : None

⋆˚࿔ WC : 975

⋆˚࿔ Previous Chapter : 2

⋆˚࿔ A/N : Hope you enjoy!!!

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Chapter 3: The First Date

Sunday arrived far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She’d spent the better part of the morning pacing around her dorm room, second-guessing her outfit for what Minho had so helpfully dubbed their “first date.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Y/N muttered, staring at herself in the mirror. She’d settled on a simple yet cute outfit: a cream cardigan over a fitted tank top, high-waisted jeans, and white sneakers. It was casual enough not to scream “I’m trying too hard,” but still flattering enough to fit the fake girlfriend image.

Her roommate, Hana, raised an eyebrow from her bed. “You’re talking to yourself again. What’s the big deal? It’s just Minho.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s Minho! The most insufferable guy at KISS. And now I have to spend the entire afternoon pretending I don’t want to strangle him.”

Hana smirked. “You’ll survive. Besides, isn’t he, like, ridiculously hot?”

“Hotness doesn’t make up for his personality,” Y/N retorted, grabbing her bag. “Wish me luck. Or don’t. I’m doomed either way.”

Minho was already waiting for her at the park, leaning casually against a bench like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. He was wearing a black turtleneck, tailored jeans, and a designer jacket, his hair perfectly styled.

Y/N approached him with a sigh. “You’re overdressed. This isn’t a K-drama.”

“And you’re underdressed,” he shot back, smirking. “This is supposed to be a date, Y/N. Put some effort in.”

“I look fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Wow, your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Minho said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

The two of them strolled through the park, trying to look like a couple while keeping as much distance between them as possible. Minho, apparently noticing the gap, grabbed her hand without warning.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed, yanking her hand back.

“People are watching,” he said simply, nodding toward a group of students from KISS sitting nearby. “You want them to believe us, right?”

Reluctantly, Y/N let him take her hand again. “This is the worst idea ever.”

Minho grinned. “You say that now, but by the end of the day, you’ll be thanking me.”

After walking for a while, Minho led her to an ice cream stand.

“I’ll take vanilla,” he told the vendor, then glanced at Y/N. “What about you?”

“Chocolate,” she said.

Minho paid for both, handing her the chocolate cone. “See? I’m a great fake boyfriend. Generous and thoughtful.”

“You’re literally just doing the bare minimum,” Y/N replied, taking a bite of her ice cream.

“Details,” he said with a shrug.

As they sat down on a nearby bench, a little girl walked up to them, staring at Minho with wide eyes.

“Are you a model?” she asked shyly.

Minho beamed. “Why, yes, I am.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“What?” Minho said defensively. “She asked!”

The girl giggled, then ran back to her parents, leaving Minho looking oddly pleased with himself.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“I’m just giving the people what they want,” he replied, flashing her a wink.

As they continued their “date,” Y/N couldn’t help but notice how many KISS students they kept running into. It was almost suspicious.

“Did you tell the entire school to hang out here today?” she asked as another group of students waved at them.

“Of course not,” Minho said innocently. “But if people happen to see us together, who am I to stop them?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming,” he corrected.

She ignored him, but when they passed Alex and his new girlfriend, her heart skipped a beat. Alex froze when he saw them, his expression shifting from surprise to something that looked suspiciously like jealousy.

“Y/N?” Alex said, his tone laced with disbelief.

“Alex,” she replied coolly, tightening her grip on Minho’s hand.

Minho, ever the opportunist, pulled her closer, slipping an arm around her waist. “Hey, man,” he said casually. “You doing okay?”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Fine. You two are…together?”

“Yep,” Minho said, smirking. “Crazy, right? Guess we were meant to be.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, we should get going. See you around.”

As they walked away, she glanced back to see Alex watching them, his expression unreadable.

“You’re welcome,” Minho whispered, clearly pleased with himself.

“For what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For making your ex jealous, obviously,” he said. “Did you see his face? Priceless.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Y/N muttered, but she couldn’t deny that it felt oddly satisfying.

Later that evening, after their “date” was officially over, Y/N found herself sitting on the steps of her dorm, reflecting on the day.

To her surprise, Minho appeared, holding two cans of soda.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Thought you might want a drink,” he said, handing her a can.

She took it, eyeing him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I’m just being nice. Shocking, I know.”

Y/N snorted. “You, nice? That’s a first.”

“Hey, I can be nice when I want to be,” he said, opening his can.

They sat in silence for a moment, the awkwardness of the day fading into something almost comfortable.

“Do you think this is actually going to work?” Y/N asked finally.

Minho glanced at her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, I do. But only if we’re both all in.”

“All in,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

He smirked, his usual cockiness returning. “Just don’t fall for me, darling.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.”

But as she looked at him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made a promise she couldn’t keep.

#minho xo kitty x reader #min ho x reader #xo kitty minho #minho moon #xo kitty season 2 #xo kitty s2 #xo kitty s1 #xo kitty imagine #xo kitty fanfic #xo kitty #minho xo kitty #minho #sang heon lee x reader #sang heon lee #xo kitty x reader #jenny han #to all the boys: p.s. i still love you #to all the boys: always and forever #to all the boys i've loved before

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lovedrruunk · 10 months ago

Note

It would be so cool if you could write a venture x reader where Y/N is too nervous to speak to Venture so Mercy wingmans for them‼️

��The best wingwoman ! ଘ(˵╹ᴗ╹)━☆

Venture (Overwatch) x GN reader

Authors note!; super cute request!!! Did I tell u guys I'm a mercy main…. DISGUSTING I KNOW!! But I also main Ana so it cancels out… also tbh there’s a lot of requests that I haven’t gotten to *YET* simply bc idk how to go about them :( but this one came to me rlly easily !! Ty!!! also finished this whole thing while listening to phantom of the opera on repeat for 2 hours (i need 2 write a moira fic omg...) UPDATE: HELLO??? THE MERCY MYTHIC? okok ill stfu now sry!!

Earlier today, you were dragged to a work party by your colleague and guardian angel, Angela Ziegler. You begged her to let you stay home, but she refused, saying she wouldn't be able to go without you since you were the only coworker she actually enjoyed spending time with. And so, being the amazing friend you are, of course, you agreed to go to keep her company!... Just kidding!

Angela knew you too well. Once she mentioned that the cutie from the Wayfinder Society was attending, you did a complete 180, now asking her what you should wear. She couldn't help but laugh at your reaction, amused at how predictable you were when it came to romance.

Sloane Cameron, also known as Venture, also known as the cutie from the Wayfinder Society, had quickly captured your attention ever since you first met them a couple of months ago when the Wayfinder Society was adopted by Overwatch as a sub-branch. Being the head anthropologist for Overwatch led you to spending a good amount of time with Venture and their team. Granted, it was just work and sharing data and all that, but you couldn't help but find them super intriguing. They were funny, lively, and so passionate about their work! But as badly as you wanted to get to know them, you just couldn't. Their confidence was a blessing and a curse, being the cause of why you liked them and the cause of why you were so terrified of talking to them.

Every week or so, you and Angela meet up at the cafeteria at Overwatch's headquarters to catch up while drinking your morning coffee/tea/whatever, which you of course just use as time to gush about your overwhelming crush on your new coworker. But last week... last week, you had decided enough was enough. You made a promise to Angela that by next week, you would at least ask them if they'd want to hang out outside of work. Feeling pumped and confident, you had excitedly gotten all dolled up for the party.

And now, here you were. The party was in an old Victorian mansion with lots of expensive art and chandeliers, nothing less for Overwatch, of course. The first time you had attended a work party, you were extremely underdressed, assuming it was a casual get-together, not at all expecting it to be an elegant and serious "ball" like party. You cringed at the memory before Angela snapped you out of it, handing you a glass of champagne.

"So? Is today the day?" she questions as she leans against the back wall you had been standing next to.

"I don't know, Angela..." you whined as you not so discreetly stared at them from across the room.

It was the first time you had seen them in formal attire, and you couldn’t help but admire how they looked good in everything.

"Go ask them to dance!" She suggested happily.

"What!? No way! I can't dance, especially not with them!"

“Oh, don't give me that! The worst they could say is no."

"'No' is definitely not the worst they could say. They could say 'get away from me' or 'why are you talking to me about something other than rocks' or 'your foundation doesn't match your neck.. and no I would rather drop dead than dance with you'."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious!- Wait!! Did you see that? They smiled at the new rookie! What if they like her!? What if they came here together!? What if they're dating!? Married!!? Oh my god, and now they're chatting it up with Tiff from communications! They're laughing, what's so funny!?"

"You have got to be kidding me..."

"Right!? She's not even funnier than me..."

Catching you off guard, Angela grips your shoulders, forcing you to face her.

"Shut up," she says sternly, fighting off the urge to smack you in the face. "Just ask them. You'll never know until you do... And if you don't, I owe that infuriating geneticist twenty bucks..." She murmurs the last part to herself angrily.

"Y'know what? You're right!"

You quickly finish the glass of champagne, putting it on the table next to you. Feeling encouraged by your friend, you take a deep breath before marching towards Venture... right before turning your heel and marching straight back to Angela.

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up..."

"You haven't even said anything!!!"

After a bit of back and forth, Angela is fed up and tells you that if you weren't going to do anything about it, then she will.

As she makes her way towards Venture, you whisper yell at her, begging her to come back and let you give it another try. But knowing you, she decides to ignore your desperate pleas as she continues to happily strut towards them.

From the distance, you can't make out what they're talking about, and it's driving you nuts. Angela's back is facing you, but Venture's face lights up, so you decide to take that as a good sign. And just as you start to smile... Angela turns around and points at you.

You freeze in place for what felt like a year before your eyes focus again. Venture is grinning as they wave to you, and Angela uses her hand to call you over. You force a wide smile (not aware of how crazy you look) as you timidly walk up to the two of them.

"Y/N! I was just mentioning to our sweet Cameron over here how you love to dance! They've never been to a party like this, isn't that crazy!"

"Yeah!! Wayfinder never had the funding by itself to afford something like this! I've never really had a reason to learn how to dance, so I have no clue; was hoping you could teach me!?"

"Me? Oh, sorry! I don't know how to dance!"

"But... Dr. Ziegler just said.."

"I know! Poor little Angie... ever since her last birthday, her memory has been terrible!! Must've confused me with Lena!"

You could feel the death glare Angela was giving you, but you continued to smile innocently at them.

"Well... I guess this would be a good opportunity for us to learn, don't ‘cha think?" Of course. Of course, they would somehow find a solution to your excuse.

"Great idea!!" Angela claps her hands together happily. "Why don't you two head to the dance floor? You'll only learn from experience!"

"I agree!"

Before you can say anything, you're dragged by the hand of a very excited Venture, and although your palms are sweaty and your head is spinning, you can't help but feel so much excitement.

. . .

And so as the dancefloor clears and the two of you are making your way out to the gardens, you spot a grinning Angela and a scowling Moira putting away her wallet.

#venture overwatch #overwatch x reader #venture x reader #moira mention bc i love her #MERCY MYTHIC IS CRAZY #Moicy 4eva idc

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maximotts · 2 years ago

Text

Just a quick milf Wanda thought because I’m homosexual and I need to write this. Pls ignore that I had this queued for Wednesday and put it back in my drafts because of that creepy anon I got, here be the thing 💖

cw for implied smut and lingerie shopping, but there’s nothing truly explicit in this, just Wanda being flirty

Wanda asking you to run a few errands for her because she’s unexpectedly busy with the boys since Vis decided to come pick them up around dinner instead of lunch. And yeah, maybe you had a few things to do with your Saturday already, but she sounded so overwhelmed on the phone.

You could just picture Wanda slumped against the kitchen wall watching Billy and Tommy run circles around her, her sentences rushed as she tried her hardest to be quick with giving you the list of places she needed you to stop by, “Oh, for the last stop, be a peach and pick something out for me. I trust your judgment.”

She said it so innocently, you hadn’t thought of anything of it, noting her errands and setting off to start your drive around town. Each time you mentioned to a shop’s person you were you were picking something up for Ms. Maximoff, their face lit up, perfectly agreeable to help you grab whatever she asked for and praising your helpful nature.

The last place was in the next town over, a small store you’d never paid much attention to. The second you stepped through the door, you realized why.

It wasn't that the lingerie store was tacky or crude, but you certainly felt underdressed in your denim cutoffs amongst the lavish mannequins. You could barely make eye contact with the shop owner while trying to ask for Wanda's order, the older women clearly amused with your struggle.

Upon revealing there was nothing set aside for her, a reminder of Wanda's words mortified you: pick something out for me. For her. Lingerie... for Wanda. On your judgement. To your albeit limited knowledge, the only person she’d worn anything like this for lately was you.

Steam had to be blowing from your ears. If not for the fear of disappointing her, you would've run away.

Suddenly each outfit was visible on Wanda and not only was it impossible to pick, the process of being shown all the details and advantages of every choice by the shop owner left your face hotter than the sun.

As soon as you pick one, you put the purchase on Wanda's tab and sprint with the box to your car. The drive home only makes your anxiety rise, wondering if and how to present it to her, hoping your taste in lingerie isn't offensive; there were way too many racing thoughts.

Finally you settle on just putting the box on her bed and busying yourself with putting as many things from your errands away as you could. But by the time Wanda comes back that evening, you're wondering why you lingered in her empty house for so long. She hadn't asked you to do anything more than complete some tasks for her, certainly not to lurk without purpose.

Wanda doesn't care, thinks it's sweet you'd wait for her return instead of running off to some party on Saturday night. "Here to keep me company, sweet pea?"

You figure saying no sounded rude and it gave you an excuse for being in her home still so you went along with it, rattling off the completed list of tasks and explaining what you'd put where just in case you were wrong about anything. If Wanda noticed how you left out the last shop, she didn't say anything, granting you a bright smile and pulling you in for a kiss that made your heart melt.

"I'll go change into my house clothes, then we can curl up and watch a movie. Give me ten minutes!" As soon as you heard Wanda shut her bedroom door, you remembered the box you left at the end of her bed and you waited with baited breath for a scream, a gasp, any indication that she'd opened the package at all... but none came.

For some amount of painfully long minutes, you heard nothing, leaving you stone still on the sofa, feverishly wiping your clammy hands over your legs. And then, finally, her voice called out from upstairs, "Come up here, please. I need your help!"

She didn't sound mad, just... normal. You didn't know what to expect as you climbed the carpeted stairs, but then as you turned the corner you saw Wanda standing in her bedroom doorway, grinning as she toyed with the sleeve of her new dark blue gown. "So this is the kind of thing you want to see me in?"

The actual dress was a little shorter than she typically wore, ending at her upper thigh, and much lower cut, accenting the slight push the bodice's corseted fit gave her chest. "It was a hard decision. You'd look beautiful in the whole store."

"Well aren't you a charmer," Wanda beckoned you closer from where you fidgeted in place, drawing you in until you were mere inches away. "Let me pay you back for all your hard work today, sweetheart. I'll even show you how to take me out of this once I get tired of wearing it."

#wanda is so silly I wuv her #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fic #milf!wanda au #motts writes.#maximotts

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jingyi-ma-boi · 14 days ago

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Rule Nº1: Perform no unauthorised experiments

Alright, this is it.

Viktor steels himself with a deep breath, eyes closed for an instant, left hand moving before he second guesses himself as he uses his right hand to keep his leg in place. The metal of the injector has warmed with his own body heat, clammy with the nervous sweat from his hand. He doesn’t dwell on it, pulling the trigger and sinking the needle in a swift movement.

The high and the pain are instantaneous. All the muscles on his body becoming taught as if pulled by invisible strings, fire coursing through his veins, making his skin itch and prickle as if he was wearing the kind of wool that always made him want to tear his skin off. He wants to tear his skin off now too.

He’s curling in on himself, panting in an attempt to regain his breath— or at least, as much of it as he can, anyways. He doesn’t want to even think of how actual shimmer must feel like if this is the rush he gets from his own version of the medicinal kind.

Still out of breath, though not as much, Viktor can only lay his head down on his workstation. After the initial overwhelming sensation of the cold steel on his bare skin there’s sweet relief. He feels hot, underdressed down to his undergarments as he is. A couple of minutes come to pass, his breath evens out and he realizes that he needs to take note of everything.

Slight perceived increase in body temp. Mild exhaustion from the shock, rapidly decreasing.

It is with wide eyes and a sharp inhale that he notices the first, immediate effect.

Possible increased pulmonary capacity?

Viktor takes a deep breath. A really deep one and holds it in, before letting it out slowly. Nothing happens. Nothing happens.

Sweet Janna, breathing like that should immediately throw him into a coughing fit from the bronchitis he’s been battling these weeks. He hasn’t been able to breathe like this for years. He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, looking around him into the lab. Just as deserted as it has been for the past six hours. Because it’s fucking two in the morning.

Frantic from the manic energy of what looks like his first breakthrough in months, and a rising hope that he tries and fails to tamp down for precaution’s sake, he takes two fingers to the pulse point under his jaw and begins counting under his breath. He reaches sixty without a hitch or skipped beat. He turns to look at the clock, waits for the second hand to reach the twelve and counts again.

Steady heart rate, 92bpm after 5” recovery period. Over 5% decrease from previous recordings of resting bpm. No apparent signs of previous arrythmias. Pending of further readings.

A few more seconds pass in the stillness of the night, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing happens. There’s only the sound of Viktor’s even breath, a soft cadence accompanied by the soothing moderato tempo of his heartbeat in his chest. Hope continues to bloom next to organs that seem to work properly for the first time in years as his lips stretch in a relieved grin.

Keep reading on AO3

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor

Rating: E

4.2K words

#jayvik #jayvik fic #jayvik fanfic #jayce/viktor #arcane fanfic #canon divergent au #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #season 1 viktor #arcane s1 #trans viktor #jayce talis x viktor #jayce x viktor #viktor nation #my fic #lab safety series #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link

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justmystyles · 2 years ago

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Now You're In My Life - Part 9

catch up here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: you and Harry have dinner with your family.

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: this is a very silly fluffy chapter, not going to lie. hope you enjoy it!

*i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“Are you sure we’re not underdressed?” Harry asked, as you drove through the streets of your hometown.

You smiled over at him, squeezing his hand, which had been linked to yours for the entire ride. “Promise. My sister and I always coordinate for family dinners. We decided to use tonight as the inaugural run for our new track suits.” Your eyes travel over him, appraising his outfit. “Yours isn’t an exact match, but at least you had something on theme.”

“Yes, well I didn’t have much warning.” He joked before turning his attention back to the road.

After sitting in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Harry brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing them softly. “I love you, girlfriend.”

Your heart fluttered as your gaze traveled to Harry. Even though you could only see his profile, the content look on his face was possibly the best sight you had ever seen. “I love you too, boyfriend.” You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to hearing him say it, but you were certain you’d never grow tired of it.

“So what exactly am I in for here?” Harry asked. “Will your dad be giving me a proper interrogation?”

“Oh,” you paused thinking it over for a minute. “I actually have no idea. I’ve, well I never…”

“Am I the first guy you’ve brought home?” He asked incredulously.

You simply shrugged in reply. “Right there, take a right,” you change the subject, pointing out your parent’s driveway.

Harry pulled in, putting the car in park, you tried to remove your hand from his, but he only squeezed tighter. “Hey,” he tugged your arm gently, you looked up at him in response. “This is kind of a big deal, being the first guy you bring home to your parents. I want you to know that I don’t take that lightly.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t give me much of a choice. You kind of invited yourself.” You say, trying to lighten the moment.

Harry smirked and shook his head. “Fine, get out of the car. I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours.”

“No way, Jose. You RSVP’d, no turning back now.”

Harry’s expression sombered as he leaned in, resting his hand on the side of your neck, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Don’t wanna turn back. Only forward, only with you.” He loved the back and forth the two of you shared, but he was also desperate for you to be more open and vulnerable with him. He had gotten a taste of it earlier in the day, and he wanted more.

Overwhelmed by his sincerity, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his, deepening the kiss immediately. You lingered like that before Harry pulled back with a chuckle. “Let’s put a pin in that for later, princess. Don’t know that meeting your parents half hard would make the best first impression.”

“Valid.” You giggled, kissing him on the nose before reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“And don’t you dare touch that door young lady,” he chastised.

“I know, I know. Always a gentleman.” You sighed sarcastically.

Harry comes around, opening your door and helping you out of the car. Your eyes immediately travel to the front window, you see your parent’s faces quickly disappear behind the curtain. You laugh to yourself, you know your family too well.

You turn the doorknob, stepping into the split level ranch home you grew up in, an instant wave of nostalgia and comfort washing over you. You can see your dad straight ahead in the kitchen, putting together a cheese plate, you glance to the right, your mother sitting on the couch. You couldn’t see her fully with the Christmas tree in the way, but you were sure she was trying to act nonchalant as if you didn’t just catch her gawking at you through the window.

At the top of the stairs, your family dog is waiting for you, tail wagging uncontrollably. “My sweet little Dubby, my favorite family member.”

“Heard that,” your mother shouted.

“You were supposed to.” You snap back.

Harry chuckles at the exchange. You stop halfway up the stairs so that you are eye to eye with the dog, you cradle her face in your hands, speaking in baby talk to her.

“Um… love, are you sure she’s not going to bite you in the face?” Harry asks, a little unnerved at the Dalmatian’s teeth on full display.

You look at him with a furrowed brow before turning your attention back to Dubby. “Oh no no no, she’s smiling! She smiles at me every time I come home!”

Harry nods and approaches the dog cautiously, still not fully convinced. He holds his hand out, she gives it a quick sniff before licking it and placing her head underneath, encouraging him to give her pets which he eagerly takes her up on.

“See, you’re in.” You pat him on the back before continuing up the stairs, entering the main living space, Harry following behind.

“I’m here,” you announce. “I see Mel’s late as usual.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad comes out from the kitchen, wrapping you in a hug. “Not yet, we told her to be here later.”

“We wanted to meet your guest first.” Your mother continues as she steps up to you.

“Oh, that was actually kind of a genius move.” You nod your head in approval before hugging your mother. When you step out of the embrace, you take a deep breath before linking hands with Harry. “So, mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, Harry.” You feel yourself blush slightly. It was the first time you got to introduce him as your boyfriend, and it just felt right.

Harry squeezed your hand gently, also loving the feeling of hearing you claim him like that, before letting go to greet your parents. “Mister and misses Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure.” He reaches out, shaking each of their hands.

“Please,” your mother waves off his formalities. “David and Tina.”

Harry nods in understanding as your parents lead you both to the couch. You take a seat and Harry sits down beside you, taking your hand instantly.

“Drinks?” Your father offers.

“Water, please.” You say with a smile.

“I’ll take the same.” Harry says. Your father nods and retreats to the kitchen. As your mother takes a seat in an adjacent armchair.

“So, I must admit,” she begins. “You’re definitely much more normal looking than we expected.”

Your free hand immediately flies to your face. “Starting out strong.” You mumble. Harry chuckles and leans into you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m just saying,” your mother holds her hands up defensively. “We’ve never seen any of the guys you’ve dated. We just assumed they were those dirty boys with long hair and tattoos all over the place. Boys who call themselves musicians.” She uses air quotes around the word musicians.

You and Harry exchange a look, trying not to laugh. She was practically describing him now, and definitely describing him a couple of years ago.

“So Harry, what do you do for a living?” Your dad asks as he returns with a tray of drinks, placing them down on the coffee table in front of you.

A single bark of laughter escapes you. You turn to face Harry with an arched brow, waiting with baited breath for his answer.

“Well, I have my hand in quite a few things actually, I own a couple of busin–”

“No no no,” you interrupt him. “Not all the side hustles, your actual job. And maybe you should take your jacket off while you tell them.”

He narrows his eyes playfully at you. He knew once they understood what he did and who he was, it would be different. But he didn’t want to just come out and say he was a multi platinum recording artist.

The conversation was mercifully interrupted by the opening of the front door. “You guys always complain that I’m late, so look at me showing up early.” Your sister announces as she comes up the stairs, greeting the dog on her way by. She freezes in her tracks when she sees you and Harry sitting on the couch. “Why the fuck is Harry Styles in our house?”

“Wait, why does that name sound familiar?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s like one of the most famous singers in the world,” your sister replies. “He was in that band, One Direction. You know? The poster on my wall?”

You smirk, reminding yourself to thank your sister for the perfect setup. “Yeah, you know he’s the musician on the poster with long hair and tattoos?”

Your parents’ faces turn beet red at the revelation. “I’m very sorry, Harry. We didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine. Really.” He assures your parents. “You just want the best for your daughter. I want the best for her too.” He turns to you and smiles. “Though, perhaps I went for the wrong sister if she’s the one with the poster of me.” He chuckled, standing to shake your sister’s hand.

“Nope, you got the right one.” Your sister assured him. “You’d be barking up the wrong tree here.” You and your parents laugh, your sister has always been particularly blunt.

Harry nods in understanding as you stand, greeting your sister with a hug.

“This explains why you were so distracted when I called the other night.” Your sister observed.”Watermelon sugar, am I right?.” She winked and nudged you with an elbow making you and Harry giggle.

“What does that mean?” Your parents ask simultaneously. The three of you freeze, your eyes went wide, head snapping over to see Harry blushing. Your sister slaps her hand over her mouth.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” You say quickly.

Your mother sighs. “You never want to explain anything to us. We’re not young and cool, we don’t just know things.”

“I am not explaining what it means.” You shoot daggers at your sister, silently cursing her for bringing it up.

“Oh,” a moment of realization washes over your mother. “It’s a sex thing, isn’t it?”

“JESUS!” You shout, covering your face in your hands. You spread your index and middle fingers slightly so that you can see Harry, whose face is a deep crimson from embarrassment.

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know anymore!” Your father throws his hand up in defeat and walks back into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath, sinking back into the couch. “This is going great.”

Harry plops down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. “It’s alright princess, I think things are going just fine.” He kisses the top of your head.

Your dad returns from the kitchen, handing your sister a drink. “Let’s all just start over,” he suggests. “Harry, how did you end up in the music biz?”

You drop your gaze, shaking your head in embarrassment at your dad trying to sound cool. Harry laughs again, patting your thigh softly. “Well, I auditioned for this show X Factor when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, Y/N and I used to watch that all the time!”

“You did?!” Harry says surprised, looking over at you in shock.

“Absolutely, it was appointment television for us. I loved listening to Y/N’s thoughts on the singers, she always knew what she was talking about. She has a good ear for music.” She smiled proudly at you. “Can’t sing for the life of her, but she has a good ear.”

“And that’s why you’ll never hear me sing.” You say to Harry, before turning your attention to your mother. “He wasn’t on the one we watched though, he was on the UK one.”

“No, we performed on the American one. A couple of times, actually.” He looks at you with a cocky grin. “Little miss ‘I never paid attention to One Direction’.”

“I obviously wasn’t paying attention if I don’t remember it happening.” You wink at him before turning back to your father. “What’s for dinner anyway? I didn’t smell anything when I came in.”

As your father begins to explain that he called for pizza, listing off the different things he ordered, Harry leans in closely, speaking low enough for only you to hear. “You’ll be paying for that comment later, missy.” He warned as he playfully pinched your side.

Despite the awkward start to the evening, things started to simmer down. Harry was getting along great with your family. You didn’t doubt he would for a second. Your dad and Harry seemed to be in a spirited competition to see who could tell the worst joke. You, your mother and your sister were the true losers of that battle.

After dinner, everyone retired back to the living room except for your dad who made a stop off in the kitchen to light the candles and bring out your birthday cake. He lowered the lights and entered the room as your family and Harry sang happy birthday to you. You looked around the room, unable to contain your smile. You were glad you had never brought a guy home before. None of them would have fit in even half as well as Harry had.

You looked over to him, he was singing with that wide, dimpled grin that you loved so much. You were so overwhelmed in that moment that you felt tears start to prick your eyes. Harry’s brow rounded in concern, you gave him a reassuring smile and thumbs up as the song ended. You turned back to the cake, blowing out the candles as the people closest to you in the world cheered for you.

Once the flames were out, Harry pulled you close, placing a kiss on the top of your head and murmuring I love yous into your hair. Your family watched on fondly. They had never seen you so happy, and they were grateful for the boy that had permanently engraved the smile on your face.

As you were sitting around enjoying your cake, your sister excused herself to the basement. She returned soon after with a familiar box. Your eyes went wide.

“Nope, no way, not happening.” You protested. Your parents laughed as Harry looked on trying to understand what was going on.

“Absolutely! We always watch home movies and go through old pictures on birthdays.”

“But this is different, I have a guest with me.” Your tone was pleading. You weren’t ready to be embarrassed on that level in front of Harry. Not yet.

“Why don’t we leave it up to our guest?” Your mother suggested.

Everyone looked at Harry expectantly, while his eyes locked on you. He grins, eyes never leaving yours as he answers. “I would love to see all of it.”

You cover your face with your hands and groan with defeat. He chuckles, grabbing your wrists and pulling them down as your sister sets up the videos. He leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your revenge when I bring you home to meet Mum and Gemma. I promise.”

Your exasperated frown quickly became a smile. Everything had happened so quickly with Harry, that you hadn’t thought about going home with him to meet his family. But he clearly had. You got butterflies in your stomach knowing that he was excited for that to happen.

You were pulled out of the moment by the sound of the television, you looked up to see your three year old self toddling through a petting zoo. “Oh man, you’re really going to start with this one?” You bury your face into Harry’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, his eyes locked on the screen.

As the video continues you work your way around, pointing out animals to your mother who is holding the camera. For some reason, you considered every sheep and goat to be a cow, and informed your parents of that. As you approached one particular ‘cow’ it had its head down, eating some pellets. You bent over, likely to place a kiss on the top of its head, as you often did with your dog and cats at home, when it abruptly lifted its head, a horn butting you right in the nose.

The room bursts into laughter, Harry included. He turns to face you, seeing that you’re trying to suppress your own laughter while giving him a faux stern look. He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to your pouted lips.

The videos continued, and you knew what was happening. Because it was your birthday, and you had brought a guest, you were the main focus of the selections. There were more embarrassing moments, like the time you rocked too hard on a rocking horse and ended up falling off backwards, but there were also nice memories as well. Dance recitals, school plays, birthday parties and more.

A video played from Christmas day when you were roughly eleven years old, the whole family was gathered at your grandparents house, and the camera panned around, getting shots of everyone. When they panned into the den, they found you teaching your grandmother the Macerena. You had recently learned it at your friend’s birthday, and you always loved showing your grandmother the cool new things. And she loved learning them from you.

You watched on, subconsciously shifting, rubbing the tattoo on your left wrist. The tattoo you got for her. You feel Harry nudge you, and you look over to him, tears pooling in your eyes. It had been nine years since you lost her, but there wasn’t a day that went by where you didn’t think of her. There were so many moments in your life you wished you could have told her about, had her there for. So many things you felt like you still needed to learn from her. Harry cupped your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. He looked at you with a question in his eyes, mouthing the words ‘you okay?’ You nodded in response and sniffled, composing yourself before turning back to the screen.

“Are you going to the cemetery tomorrow?” Your mother asks.

You freeze, you had been so caught up in the bubble you had created with Harry over the last few days that you didn’t realize that the anniversary of her passing was the following day. “Oh, I didn’t think about it. I mean Harry’s only in town for a few days. Maybe I could go aft–”

“I don’t mind,” he interrupts. “I’ll go with you if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” You look at him in question, he nods. “I would probably want to pick up my grandfather first, he’ll want to go.”

“Excellent, I can’t wait to meet him.” Harry assures you.

“Okay then,” you say, turning back to your mother. “I guess I am.” You pause, looking back over to Harry and taking his hand. “I mean, we are.”

Your parents watched the two of you fondly. They had always been concerned about the kinds of guys you were seeing, especially since you barely talked about them and never brought them around. But seeing you and Harry, how affectionate he was with you, how tender and kind, they knew that he was exactly what they had always wanted for you.

The night went on a bit longer, you watched a few more movies and went through some pictures. As you were talking and reminiscing with your family, Harry listened with the utmost attention. He meant it when he said he wanted to know everything about you, and this whole night had been an amazing step in the right direction.

At one point, when it came up that your parents had left your bedroom exactly as it was when you left for college, Harry insisted on seeing it. You took his hand, leading him down the hall to the last door on the right.

“That door stays open, young lady!” Your mother shouted from down the hall. “No watermelon sugar!”

“Moooommmmmm gross!” You hear your sister groan

You froze in your tracks, pinching the bridge of your nose. Harry chuckles, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. You open the door and step through. “Here it is.”

Harry’s eyes sweep the area, taking in every detail. The walls are a pastel green, yellow and white gingham curtains match the sheets on the double bed. He runs his hand along the ornate carvings of the cream and gold headboard, and notices the matching desk and dresser. It’s definitely not the room he pictured for you, until he focuses on the wall decor.

The first thing that catches his eye are the black angel wings hanging over the window, he then notices the posters, loaded with images of the kinds of guys your parents expected you to bring home. “It is definitely you. Perfectly punk rock princess.”

“Yeah, well we did the full ‘big girl’ redesign when I was 12, and then my tastes changed, but my family’s budget didn’t, so we just added on.” You shrug.

“I love it, really.” He assures you. “It’s like your beautiful brain exploded in here, it’s a little bit of everything I love about you.” He places his hands on your hips, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck.

“You know,” you say coyly. “You’re the first boy I’ve ever had in my room.”

He arched a brow, and smirked. “Really?” You hummed in reply, and he pulled you closer, dropping his lips to yours, deepening the kiss instantly.

You pull back, slapping his chest playfully. “Harry, my parents are right out there.”

“Mmm,” he begins trailing kisses down your neck. “Now tell me we should be studying for the big test on Friday.”

You burst out laughing, pushing out of his embrace. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“You love it.”

“Very much,” you look up at him, your expression softening.

He links your fingers with his, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

You nod in agreement, leading him out of your room. You both say your goodbyes to your family, Harry thanking your parents for their hospitality and promising to come back to see them next time he’s in town. You and your sister agree to get together soon.

“I think they really liked you,” you tell Harry in the car on the way home.

“I really liked them,” he smiles. “Definitely felt like a part of the family.”

“Good,” you squeeze his hand.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride home. You can’t help but let your mind drift off, thinking about how someday he may actually be your family. You know it’s way too early to be thinking like that, but you can’t and won’t stop yourself. You’re in love, and you don’t expect that to change any time soon.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles meet cute #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry style imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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strawberryteabunny · 1 month ago

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Frederick’s 30 Days Day 6: Are there popular lolita things you tend to dislike for your own style?

So this might be really controversial but… petticoats ><

A) I travel a lot and I’m a lifestyle lolita; on average I’m out of town at least once a month. I also live in a big city and don’t own a car so I’m on the bus or train everywhere. Trying to pack a petticoat in a suitcase or on public transportation is REALLY annoying so I started skipping it and it turns out I find it a lot more comfortable without!

B) A lot of classic and oldschool styles are either very low or no petti in the first place (or have built in petticoats in the dresses)- so an OTT level cupcake petticoat doesn’t work for most of my coords anyway. I do wear a petticoat on occasion for dresses that look really flat without it…

C) … but tbh no one’s ever called me out on it or said my dresses/skirts look flat/bad. Maybe everyone’s just really nice and keeps this thought to themselves, but imo it’s not very distracting/bad looking and in photos it’s easy to hide if a dress isn’t poofy enough. Who knows, maybe I’ve been posted to cgl over it or would’ve been on BTB but I feel like people care less these days, especially other lifestylers or people who do more casual coords.

Oldschool/classic styles were often a lot more casual about wearing a petticoat or even a blouse- these are all pre-2003 iirc, from GLB’s via lolitahistory. The last one is an ad for Victorian Maiden- a summer coord with no blouse, petti, bloomers, or long socks! (Disclaimer that some of these coords may have petticoats but some clearly don’t, and it’s not always crystal clear which is which)

I’m not wearing a petticoat in any of these pictures (and I tried specifically to look for photos where I’m not holding my skirt out)- would you have been able to tell the difference if I hadn’t told you?

I do want to wear more underskirts though- a lot of dresses are short on me and I just like the added detail. Somewhere in my project bin is an underskirt that I’m hoping will provide a nice amount of length and volume for my dresses and will therefore double as a ‘pettiskirt’- adding some volume but not an overwhelming/uncomfortable amount of fabric. I’ve also been really into a VM underdress I bought recently that I’ve been wearing in my classic coords to lengthen/add some volume to my skirts.

I do want to add that I think a key part of the lolita fashion is the silhouette, which has a poofy knee-length skirt as the ‘platonic ideal’. Skipping a petti absolutely can lead to your coords looking bad and there’s definitely some dresses where I always wear a petti because they need one to look right. But just like longer skirts can still be lolita and are more common in gothic and classic lolita, I think lower volume can be a thing in oldschool or classic coords sometimes too.

On a much less controversial note, I’m also not a huge fan of KC’s and wristcuffs. I’ve really fallen in love with rectangle headdresses and KC’s are a lot more ‘sweet’ to me, so if I wear a head bow it’s usually on the back of the head not on the top. Wristcuffs- I’ve just never liked the feeling of something on my wrist! I don’t wear bracelets or watches either 🤷‍♀️

#y’all can feel free to disagree with me but like keep it civil #I know this is a really controversial one I don’t think petticoats are useless #but I also don’t think they’re 100% necessary 100% of the time #literally half of official oldschool brand ads they’re not wearing a petticoat and neither are the street snap girls #you can’t argue it’s *always* ita unless your idea of lolita resides solely in 2010+#when I do ott sweet yes I always have a big cupcake petti because that’s the style #but you just can’t fit one of those in a dress from 2002 #lolita fashion #fredericks30days #mine

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scary-event2369 · 1 year ago

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Yandere CEO (One-Shot)

This one takes just a bit longer to get to the spicy scenes, but you get to see him in a more “dere” form before the “yan”. Word Count: 2560

Warning: Not proof read, very shitty writing ahead. (wrote this in one sitting again)

Content: Fem Body Reader (No gendered/pronouns used), age-gap (yan is 36 reader is 24), public sex, dub-con, minor hair pulling, breeding mention at the end, the yan is just a tiny bit aggressive

—

“Let me take you out for dinner,” my boss said, leaning on my desk looking down at me. His casually rolled up sleeves revealed well-defined, muscular arms. I greedily looked at them, trying not to be too obvious. Prying my eyes from his arms and my work, I looked up at him. His beautiful dark brown eyes met mine. The CEO, Daniel Li, was the head of the largest security and protection company. He was extremely rich and extremely good looking. With his tall stature, sun-kissed complexion, an enchanting, pearly-white smile, and full lips, he exuded charisma. He was twelve years older than me, but it didn’t show in the slightest. He had that mature older look to him, but to think he was thirty-six years old was off to say the least.

“Why? What’s the special occasion?” I asked him slightly confused. I was trying to think if I missed any big sales he did, but nothing was coming to mind. “It’s been one year since you’ve became my secretary,” He said, still looking at me with those dark chocolate eyes of his. “We must celebrate.”

“Has it really been a year?” I asked him, a little bit amazed by how quickly time passed. “It feels like just yesterday you showed me my office,” I laughed a bit.

His gaze softened a bit as he kept looking at me, “Yes, already a year,” he said gently. “Please let me treat you to dinner.” I thought about it for a second. I really had nothing to do at afterwork, and I wasn’t in the mood to cook anything…

"Sure, why not? I'm up for it," I replied. His eyes brightened, and he said, "Fantastic! I'll pick you up at seven. Make sure to dress fancy.” Dress fancy? Was working here for a year really that much of a special occasion? I thought. However, I kept this to myself and simply nodded, glancing at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock, almost time for me to sign out. “That sounds good,” I told him as I began to gather my things, “Are you going to tell me the restaurant or will this be one of your many secrets?” I joked He let out a deep chuckle, “You know me so well! It will be a secret for now, but trust me you’ll enjoy it.”

—

We arrived at the restaurant,and describing it as fancy would be the understatement of the century. It was easily the most elegant, posh looking place in town. I did as he said and chose the fanciest outfit I had, but I still felt underdressed. "Mr. Li," I uttered, my eyes widening as I took in the breathtaking building. "I know I said it was okay that you’re taking me out for dinner, but this place is just too… extravagant." Turning towards him, I realized that he was already fixed on me. His attire, usually professional, had been elevated to a whole new level. “Trust me my little assistant, you deserve this,” he said, parking the car. He quickly got out and went over to open the door for me, offering his hand. "You're truly the best assistant I've ever had, and it's only right to treat you to something extraordinary."

I sighed, knowing that once he set his mind to something, he was set. "Alright... but don't let this become a habit. I might get spoiled," I quipped, accepting his hand as I stepped out of his sleek black Aston Martin.

He gently squeezed my hand as he guided me toward the entrance. I could have sworn I heard him murmur, "I want to spoil you," but I might have been mistaken.

Then again, maybe I wasn't wrong at all.

The moment we stepped inside, I was completely overwhelmed. I’ve been to fancy restaurants for business purposes but this was a whole different level. I wasn’t even listening to her as I was just so caught up by the interior before me.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic light across the room. Soft yet elegant classical music was playing throughout the building, it was mixed with the soft hum of conversations. The carpet beneath our feet exuded a deep, almost regal shade of blue, complementing the chairs that appeared to be very comfortable.

"Are you alright?" Daniel's concerned voice pulled me from my entranced state. I hadn't even noticed the hostess gesturing towards our table. My cheeks flushed as I replied, "Yes! I'm sorry."

His laughter accompanied us as we followed her to our table. Only when we were seated did I realize that we were still holding hands. I quickly let go. “I can’t be holding hands with my boss! This is strictly professional!” I screamed at myself internally.

Daniel's expression dropped, his eyes revealing a hint of disappointment the moment our hands stopped touching. However, the hostess, who presented us with menus, diverted our attention.

“What do you think you’re going to get?” He asked, his disappointed look gone as he was going through the menu. It was hard, everything seemed so good it was seemingly impossible. “I don’t know, there are so many good choices,” I said, analyzing every single item listed. I glanced at the price tag and felt my heart drop out of my ass. “Everything here is so expensive! I really would feel bad if you paid it all.” He chuckled, his response laced with warmth and sincerity. "Don't worry about the price. I'll gladly treat you to whatever you want."

I was about to protest when our waiter approached. He appeared to be of a similar age to me and had a charming, welcoming smile. "Hello. I'm Zach. I'll be your waiter for this evening. May I start you off with any drinks?" I returned his smile, saying, "I'll just have water, thank you." Zach jotted it down and then turned his attention to Daniel, as did I. His blissful looking attitude was long gone, he had that cold and somewhat annoyed look as he glared at the waiter. “Water,” he said coldly. The waiter nodded, casting a wary glance in my direction, likely due to Mr. Li's intense stare. "I'll be back with your waters shortly," he said before walking off quickly.

I turned my attention to my boss who had a displeased look on his face, “Are you alright?” I asked him, my voice laced with concern. This seemed to be enough because his face brightened up again. “Yes! I am fine, my little assistant.” I chuckled softly at his sudden change of mood, “That’s good! I thought I did something to displease you.” He quickly shook his head, “No! You could never do anything to displease me,” he said swiftly, yet sincerely.

Playfully rolling my eyes, I returned to looking at the menu. "Yeah, sure." Mr. Li chuckled, his eyes still fixed on me. "I really mean it. You're the most perfect person I've ever met. You're the only one who's ever met my standards." His compliment made my cheeks flush even more. "I-uh, well, thank you, sir." He was still smiling at me, “You can just call me-” Before he could finish his sentence, the waiter returned with our drinks, and my boss's mood soured instantly. “Here you guys go. Are you ready to order?” He asked, looking between us again. "I'll have the Steak au Poivre, medium rare," Mr. Li replied with an almost eager tone, as if wishing the waiter away. “Oh! I’ll have that also,” I told the waiter as I handed him my menu. He smiled at me and our hands brushed as he collected the menus. "That's a great choice; you'll love it," he said, still gazing at me as he walked away. I turned to Daniel, who appeared even more pissed than before. "He seems nice," I mentioned, taking a sip of water. This darkened his expression further. "Do you like him?" he asked, his voice low and threatening. Confusion overcame me as I met his intense gaze. "Uh, I guess so? He seems like a good waiter," I responded hesitantly. This was clearly not a good answer because, suddenly, he took my hand and basically dragged me to the male’s bathroom.

He quickly brought me into a stall, trapping me between the door and him with his big arms. He was glaring at me, his breathing heavy. “S-Sir?” I stammer out confused. He quickly shut me up by pressing his lips against mine in a deep aggressive manner. He nipped at my bottom lip, causing me to let out a surprised yelp. This made it the perfect time for him to push his tongue in my mouth, wrapping it against mine. I groaned at the sensation, only then did he pull away, our swollen lips and the trail of saliva connecting our lips being the only thing. I was going to say something before he grabbed my cheeks, squishing them. “You’re good at riling me up,” he said, his tone deep and smokey. His breath was rigged as he peered deeply into my eyes, “The way you looked and talked at that guy… it seems you want to make me jealous.” I was confused, riling him up? “Sir, I don’t know-” he cut me off by connecting our lips again in another long and possessive kiss. My hands went to his chest clutching his jacket as he continued the kiss. I didn’t know if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away. After a moment or two he pulled away again. “You’re pretty eyes should only look at me. I must be the only one who you pay attention to,” his voice was still dark and stern.

He let go of my cheeks, trailing his hands down my sides. I shiver at his gentle yet aggressive touch. He bent down, pushing his face deep into my neck. “You’re intoxicating,” he murmured as he started to kiss my neck. “Sir, I don’t think-” he bit my neck causing me to stop and let out a small yelp. “Don’t call me sir,” he demanded, his voice was commanding “Say my name… call me Daniel,” he continued to pepper my neck with kisses and nibbles. My hands went from his chest to his dark hair, running my hands through it, completely messing up the put together look he had. “Daniel,” I whispered out, trying to hold back the moans. I felt him smirk against my neck as he pulled back, turning me around. “Put your hands on the door,” he commanded. I did just that and lifted up my dress, pushing my panties aside. “Good job,” he whispered in my ear, his hand gently caressing my ass before gently going up and down my soaking folds. “You’re so wet, just from my kisses?” he laughed momentarily. He then paused for a moment before he smacked my ass hard, causing me to whimper and my knees to weaken momentarily. “Unless it’s from that waiter… Did he make you this wet from a smile?” His tone filled with anger and jealousy. I shook my head, “N-no of course not,” I said breathlessly. He grabbed a handful of my hair as he inserted two digits into my greedy hole. “Better not be, because this body, this pussy is mine,” his tone was aggressive as he started to move his fingers hard. My knees weakened more as I let out loud moans. The empty bathroom filled with the noises coming from both lips. It echoed making the whole thing more embarrassing, yet exciting. “I can't take it anymore,” he growled as he took his fingers out of me, to unzip his pants. His shaft was twitching, rubbing against my entrance. “D-Daniel wait,” I whimpered, we needed to think about this! He was my boss and I was his secretary. This would never work. He didn’t care though, he shoved his manhood inside me. I let out a long and loud moan, he let out a couple grunts as well. “Shit, you’re tighter than I expected.” He gave me a moment to adjust to his size before he started moving.

He started off as slow, warming me up to the sensation of him being deep inside me, however it didn’t take him long to be ramming into me, hitting places I didn’t think was possible. I was moaning loudly from the pleasure, “What if someone comes in?” I managed to ask between the pleasure I was feeling. He laughed as his hands were on my hips, holding me in place as he thrusted over and over again. “If someone came in and saw you like this, I would strangle them with my bare hands.’ He kissed the back of my shoulder, “Only I'm allowed to see you like this.” I blushed, it was a bit scary since I knew he meant it, yet it turned me on more. “You clenched around me more when I said that!” he laughed between groans as he sunk his cock deeper into me. The force he was going at his balls smacked against my sensitive clit causing me to whimper and moan more. It didn’t help he kept pleasuring my g-spot, it was obvious he was skilled in what he was doing.

The force at what we were doing caused the stall door to open, luckily he was holding me so I didn’t fall. Instead of closing the door and continuing, he brought me to the sink. I put my hands on the cold porcelain. “What are you doing?” I moaned out as he started to pick up the pace. “Look in the mirror,” he demanded. I shook my head, too embarrassed to do so. He grabbed a chunk of my hair, forcing me to look in the mirror. “Look at yourself as I fuck you.” The expression I held was one of pure pleasure, my eyes were droopy, and my lips were parted open. He smiled as he could tell I made eye contact with myself, “You’re so fucking hot.” I closed my eyes as I felt the pressure building up, I wouldn’t be able to take much more. Daniel let go of my hair to grab my cheeks again, forcing my head up and my eyes open to look in the mirror once more. This time I got to look at his face, he was smiling, it was clear he was feeling just as good as I was. “Come on, look in the mirror as you come over my dick,” he growled, kissing my cheek. I moaned as I looked in the mirror, finally releasing all over his cock causing my knees to buckle and lean onto the counter more. My walls pulsated around him, causing him to come soon also. The thick white liquid reached me deeply. It seemed like he didn’t want to pull out. “You would look so pretty swollen with my kid,” he muttered as he slowly pulled himself out, kissing the back of my head. He fixed my panties before the mixture of our juices could leak out onto the floor. I was still panting as I looked in the mirror once more, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me, clearly happy and not in a mood like before. “Let’s go, we don’t want our dinner to get cold.”

#yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere #yandere ceo #ceo yandere #yandere one shot #tw yandere

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mikareo · 1 year ago

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⌗ RENAISSANCE ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (2.1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ he's never been one to appreciate art, but you've given him a new set of eyes— the love he feels for you is overwhelming, and he hopes it lasts forever. (bonus for rationalism and romanticism; necessary to read first!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, swearing, immense fluff, kissing, sae and rin actually have a good relationship, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness author's note; bonus ending for rationalism/romanticism!

This is a fancy-ass venue.

Rin can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Rin can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it.

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster.

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Rin is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are.

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching.

“She’s talented isn’t she?”

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Rin, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when Sae walks up with his teeth beaming. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Itoshi family; famous in not only football, but good looks!

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Itoshi has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Rin doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his teammates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Rin sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Itoshi’s eyes and Rin can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Sae gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Rin knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Rin.”

Sae smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Sae since he was nothing but a young boy, six years old and playing soccer for the very first time. Rin finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his older brother, who was his rival for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first goal and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Rin believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Sae pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs.

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Itoshi nudges Rin on, standing beside Sae. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room.

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking.

Never in Rin’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his teammates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Rin looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Rin believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Rin feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Rin’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You're everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Rin raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his brother, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his teammates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Rin can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Rin. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

this is the end of this series! every part was such a joy to write and i'm so thankful for all of the feedback i've been given. more fics coming soon love y'all <3

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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come-away-with-me87 · 6 months ago

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The Art of Love Chapter 8

Chapter 7 here

******

Shouta then turned to you, and said, "I'd like to officially ask you this in person. Would you like to go on a date with me on Friday evening?" You smiled up at him, "I'd like that." He returned your smile, "great, I was thinking I could make you dinner at my place. Does 7:00pm sound good?" "That sounds perfect," you replied. He smiled at you once more, "have a nice night, Y/N. I'm looking forward to Friday." With that, he turned around and walked out the classroom door.

*****

The remainder of the week went by uneventfully at work, and suddenly, it was the end of the school day on Friday. Eri really seemed to be opening up more and more with each passing day; she especially seemed to hit it off with Hana, which made you happy to see. You'd have to tell Shouta about their friendship when you saw him later that evening. After school ended, Shouta came to pick up Eri, gave you a wink, and told you he looked forward to seeing you that evening. Your heart fluttered a bit at his wink; it felt nice to have someone interested in you again, someone to flirt with.

You went home and started getting ready for your date. Even though you were just going to his dorm for dinner, you still opted to dress up. You chose a floral halter-style maxi dress since it was warm outside. You wore a pair of gold gladiator-style sandals with it. You usually wore your hair up in a loose bun for work, but tonight, you decided to wear it down in its natural state, which was shoulder-length and wavy. You put on some foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and a tinted lip balm. Before you left, you sat down on your couch.

The nerves were starting to settle in. This was your first date since Kento passed away, and even though you felt comfortable around Shouta, you still felt very nervous as you didn't know what to expect tonight. You haven't opened up to a man in years, and you were scared of being vulnerable. And what if he wanted to kiss you at the end of the date? Would you kiss him back? Your nerves and all of this inner turmoil was beginning to make you feel slightly nauseous. Should you back out of the date, saying you weren't feeling well? No, it was already 6:00pm; he was probably cooking for the two of you.

You went back into your bedroom and pulled up the picture of you and Kento you had on your nightstand. "Oh, Kento..." you tearfully said to the picture while trailing its frame with your finger. "Would you be happy for me? You would want me to try and move on, wouldn't you?" Not long after that, you had an overwhelming feeling wash over you; a feeling of calmness and peace. What was this feeling? You looked down at the picture again, looked at Kento's smiling face, and smiled down at the picture. "Thank you, Kento." Instead of putting the picture back on the nightstand where it stood alone, you put it on top of your dresser, where you had many other framed pictures of family and friends. It was time to move forward.

By that time, it was around 6:45pm, so you grabbed your phone, purse, and keys. You got into your car, and started your drive over to Heights Alliance where Shouta resided. When you arrived at the campus, it was exactly ten minutes later. You parked your car, walked towards the gate, and saw a buzzer system where it permitted you access to the campus. You found Shouta's name, pressed the button, where he issued you access and the gate opened up. "What a good security system," you thought to yourself, thinking of the safety of both the students and staff, especially after all the attacks you've been reading about lately.

You walked up the stairs into the staff campus, and eventually came across the door that had the same number as the buzzer system. You lightly knocked on the door, and heart footsteps approaching the door. Shouta opened the door, and gave you a smile, "wow. You look absolutely beautiful, I feel underdressed." You gave him a small laugh, "oh stop, you look great yourself." And he did. He wore his usual black attire, but this time, there was no scarf and he had his hair back in a low ponytail, which really emphasized his nice jawline and collarbone.

"Come on in, dinner is almost ready. Can I get you a glass of wine in the meantime?" "Sure!" you replied, "anything I can help you with?" "Nope! You just sit and relax, and it will all be ready soon." He poured you a glass of white wine, and motioned for you to sit on the couch in the living area. You looked around his dorm; there wasn't much decor; it was actually rather simple looking. Based on what little you knew about Shouta, though, that seemed to be quite fitting for him. He then came into the living area and announced that dinner was ready. You followed him into the dining area, and looked at the display of food he had set out on the table.

"Wow Shouta, this all looks delicious." He made baked chicken, roasted potatoes, roasted asparagus, and had side salads with crumbled bleu cheese, glazed pecans with some sort of vinaigrette dressing. "Thank you," he replied, "I'm not much of a cook, but I wanted to make something nice for you." You looked down at your feet and blushed at his statement, quietly saying, "that's kind of you." You both sat down and started digging in; the food was as delectable as it looked. You both sat in a comfortable silence while eating, taking sips of your wine every so often.

Once you were finished with dinner, after him continuously refusing, he finally allowed you to help him clean up; you washed the dishes while he dried them and put them away. After cleaning up, he suggested that you both grab your glasses of wine and make your way back to the living area so you could sit down, talk, and get to know each other better.

******

To be continued...

******

Tag list: @lili-pond ; @jaguarthecat ; @big-denki-energy ; @ivydoesit23 ; @salientseraph ; @dreamofkaty ; @simp-hub ; @bluebreadenthusiast

#aizawa shota #aizawa #shota aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shota x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #shota aizawa x female reader #shota aizawa x reader

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love-in-the-time · 3 months ago

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The Shrine: Fourteen/Donna

Title: The Shrine Author: love-in-the-time Rating: Harmless Summary: The Doctor takes Donna to the beautiful planet Mridula, for some vacation time. He discovers they've built something new.

The planet Mridula has two suns. Both of them are far away enough that the surface doesn't incinerate, so the weather is generally balmy and pleasant, and it's one of those clear blue days when the Doctor lands, with Donna in tow.

He steps out and holds a hand out to her, saying, "You should see this place." And Donna emerges into the sunlight the same way she always used to, and it took his breath away then and now. The streets around them are paved with pale stone, reflecting the heat of the sunlight away, and so the alleys and throughways are cool and comfortable. The sky arches overhead, a vibrant blue with not even a cloud to disrupt the sheer expanse. They are in the middle of a market.

The people of Mridula are bipedal, analogous to humans in many ways except for their faces, which have an extra third eye in the center of the forehead, and the greenish skin. "They have a magnificent museum, and a shrine district that has to be seen to be believed," the Doctor says. He leads her to a large sign, which turns out to be a directory. He scans it and then his eyes fall on something. "A Lady shrine," he murmurs, and looks to Donna. "You should see this place," he says again. "C'mon."

In an old, an ancient gesture of love and familiarity, they walk the streets hand-in-hand. The comfort of each others' presence warms them from inside. For now Donna has nothing to fear and nothing to worry about.

Down a long street flourishing with trees and all kinds of flowers, lined with beautiful buildings, the Doctor leads Donna into a specific temple, round and made of white stone decorated with paintings of flowers and animals, with a gold orb atop it. "You'll like this one," he says to her.

Donna steps inside, and comes face to face with a six-foot tall statue of a woman, dressed in majestic Mridulan ceremonial robes. She looks it over in awe and then suddenly she realizes.

"This looks like me," she says in disbelief, reaching out to touch the soft silk of the dress on the statue. "Look." The gown is made of pale green material with a delicate yellow underdress, covered in embroidered flowers, surrounding the statue as if it's a real woman. The stone is masterfully carved into a fall of magnificent red hair down her back and around her shoulders. It's painted to look like Donna, with traditional Mridulan goddess imagery of eyes lined in black and flowering red lips. Her hands are extended in a ritual pose of blessing, the left open palm up, the right with four fingers extended, palm out, and the thumb tucked. The statue is surrounded by flowers and fruits both real and stone.

"What is this?" Donna asks.

The Doctor, still a bit overwhelmed at the sight, just points to the brass sign embedded in the base of the statue. It simply says LADY PROTECT US.

"They've got you almost to the life," he says. "Not a patch on the real thing, of course, but there you are."

"Why?" she asks. "Who is this lady? She can't be me, not really."

"It's you," the Doctor says. "You and I fought off a few baddies for this galaxy, and so the Mridulans worship you as their protective goddess." He gets closer to the statue, and sees that her eyes are made of cleverly cast precious stones, so that they catch natural light and flame equally. "Look at all the offerings," the Doctor says. "Fruit and flowers and beautiful things."

"I'm a goddess to these people?" Donna asks.

"Many people. Remember Pompeii?" the Doctor asks.

"Never forget," Donna says, and the words have much more meaning now. "Couldn't."

"You know they added us to the pantheon of minor gods," the Doctor says. "I can show you carvings."

"Rubbish," Donna says, turning back to the statue. "I know you're telling me the truth, but... rubbish. Superstitious nonsense."

The Doctor laughs, and twines one hand with hers. "Take her in," he says. "Like I said, she's not as beautiful as you, but she's close."

"How did you know about this?" Donna asks.

"I didn't know about this one until we got here," the Doctor says. "But I know about Donna shrines." There's a little silence where he pulls her against his side, his arm winding around her hip. "These people love you. They know you as the fiercest protector of their lives, even if they've never seen you except as a statue. The stories are known."

"Where else are these shrines?" Donna asks. "Do they all look like this?"

"Oh, there are too many to count," the Doctor says. "The one on the Oodsphere is my favorite. It's the most beautiful."

"The Ood?" Donna asks. "Do I have all that spaghetti hanging out of my face?"

The Doctor laughs. "No. You look like... a goddess. A winter goddess. And there's even a little painting of me there too."

"Phwoar, you're a god too?" Donna asks. "They just hand out those godheads to anyone these days, eh?"

The Doctor grins at her. "Must be," he says. "D'you want to see it? The Ood shrine?"

Before she can answer, two people enter the shrine, and the Doctor and Donna move aside and into the shadows to give them their privacy. One of them is a woman, her face glowing in a beatific smile. She comes to the statue, arms full of blossoms. The other person, a man, is holding a basket of fruits. She puts the blossoms at the statue's feet, and opens her outer robe to reveal an infant securely wrapped against her chest. "Praise to the Lady," the woman says, with tears in her voice. "My daughter was born safely this morning."

"Praise to the Lady," the man repeats, and arranges the colorful fruits and flowers around the base of the statue. They kiss her outstretched hand. There is a small silence where they are clearly praying, and then they leave the shrine with a final bow before the statue.

"These shrines exist all over the universe," the Doctor says. "Don't you want to see them?"

In the shadows of the temple Donna doesn't answer immediately. "I..." she says. "I suppose I do."

"You sound diffident enough."

"Isn't it wrong?" Donna asks. "People praying to me? I'm just a person."

"Not to them," he says. "Not to so many. Not to me."

"Oh, don't tell me you're offering flowers and fruit too."

His smile is brief and bittersweet. "Before I... changed my face," he starts. "You know, after I lost you... I used to visit as many Donna shrines as I could. Just to feel like you were still around." He clears his throat and she realizes his eyes are wet with tears. "There are hymns they sing, you know," he says. "Songs about you."

"Have you heard them?"

"Many of them."

"Where else are these temples besides here and the Oodsphere?" Donna asks.

"There's a big one on Meridion Ten," the Doctor says. "Remember the bonfire city?"

"The bonfire city," Donna says simultaneously.

"They keep an eternal flame lit at your shrine," the Doctor says. "The idol is holding it." He masters himself and inhales deeply through his nose. "Right! Shall we go see it?"

* * * *

Donna is as openmouthed before the Meridion Ten idol as she had been on Mridula, the crackling of the eternal flame in the statue's hand perfumed with something sweet and sharp. The temple is clean and well-maintained, and no one disturbs them while they stand there.

The plaque set into the floor in front of the statue reads:

DONNA NOBLE, KEEPER OF THE FLAME OF MERIDION, BELOVED OF THE DOCTOR, PEACE BE TO HIM

"This one's lovely!" the Doctor says, smiling at her. "She looks like you too!"

"Yeah, fifteen years ago," Donna says. She reaches out to touch the black gown. "This is all stone," she adds. "How amazing." She looks back at him. "What did we do for them again?"

"The dying forest," he says. "Remember the rotting trees?"

"Oh yeah," Donna says, nodding. "Yes. We helped them fight off the parasite infecting the trees. Restored their atmosphere. Saved them all, really."

"Right."

"That was the night we danced on the beach in front of that huge fire," Donna says. The Doctor smiles; she can see the memory in his eyes. "I'd never seen four moons at once before."

"If they knew we were here there would be a massive celebration," the Doctor says. He inclines his head toward the TARDIS. "I can show you another?" he asks, his eyebrows raised.

"I thought you said this was a vacation," Donna teases him.

"Shall we go to the Balkean beaches and see their waterfront temple?"

"I'll take a beach," Donna says. "Let's go."

* * * *

The statue on Balkea is contained within the Sea God's Temple, the main house of worship for the Balkeans. She is adorned in a gown of blue and white, like water and foam, offering a blessing. Her face, however, is turned to the horizon, a wistful expression as if she is longing to sail away on the waves.

"She looks sad," Donna says. She reaches out to touch the hand of the statue. "I understand you," she says to the stone, as if it can hear her and will turn and look into its own face.

"There are some sad ones," the Doctor says. "There are a few paintings that would break your heart."

"Statues and paintings?"

"Donna, you have no idea the impact you made," he tells her.

"What are these paintings?"

"The most famous one is called The Rueful Fate of Donna Noble," he says. "It's an art piece in a museum. If you want to see it someday, I'll take you. It's a bit hard for me to look at." He looks up at the statue, her face serene even in sadness. "There's the Order of the Celestial Lovers we got on Amara, Queen Heli made a lovely statue there. There's the Celebration Goddess on Habara, but it's controversial if it's a representation of you or not. There's the fertility idols on Kataa Flo Ko, but those are a bit raunchy. So's the Karissan monument."

There is a little silence which the waves and the breeze fill for them. "I promised you a vacation," he says finally.

"Shall we?" Donna offers her hand.

The Doctor walks quietly beside her back out onto the sunset beach. He watches her contemplatively, gauging her reaction to the news of her godhead. She is quiet, her face pensive. "Isn't it strange," she says.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Isn't it all so fucking strange and wonderful."

Donna smiles, huffing a little laugh out her nose.

"Did you like those statues?"

"Well," Donna says. "I s'pose it's nice to be venerated for good reasons." She pulls him gently along the sand. "Can we see the Oodsphere one? One last one? Then I demand a vacation."

He grins at her. "One vacation, as you wish."

* * * *

The Oodsphere is as wind-whipped and snow-blinded as ever, a perpetual winter with planets spangling the sky. They land near a huge stone temple, adorned with the curling script of the Ood language, which the TARDIS helpfully translates.

THE SHRINE OF THE LADY OF THE LIBERATION

"The what?" Donna asks.

"The Ood venerate you for freeing them from slavery," the Doctor says. "And me, but more you. Come on. This one is my favorite."

"Oh, my god," Donna says in awe as they approach the enormous statue. She is clothed in a rich gown of brown fur, and Donna smiles, remembering her giant old coat. Underneath is a gown of night sky blue spangled with stars and constellations. At her feet are broken chains, representing the freedom of the Ood. In one hand she holds a heavy sledgehammer, carved with the words DONNA NOBLE in Oodscript. Above her other outstretched hand is a small TARDIS, floating just over her palm. The statue is standing on a snowy pedestal, her hair and clothes tossed by wind. At her feet is a plaque, inscribed with the words THE BELOVED COMPANION.

"The beloved companion," Donna reads. "They call me that?"

"They do," the Doctor says. "Because you are."

"And the Lady of the Liberation I suppose is self-explanatory," Donna adds. Then she smiles, a blossom across her face. "What the fuck," she says, for the millionth time. "How strange. And wonderful."

The Doctor steps forward and puts a hand on the statue's base. "I spent a lot of time here after," he says. "Missed you."

Donna comes to lean against him and wrap him up loosely, proprietarily. "How about we get to that vacation before we get too maudlin?" she asks softly.

"Ah," he says. "All right, I guess I'm done being sentimental being as you're not dead and all."

"Right!" Donna says. "Come on. It's cold here."

Back in the TARDIS she helps him get them in flight and leans on the railing, sure of her skill in a smooth takeoff. "There's no one like you," the Doctor tells her. "Quite literally."

Donna shrugs. "Good," she says. "Let's be one of a kind together on a beach somewhere with very intoxicating drinks." She gives him a cheeky look. "Something very hot about being the only two who know something no one else does."

"You won't feel left out?"

Donna dismisses that immediately. "Everyone else is who's left out," she says. "Not us. We are special."

He smiles. "Okay," he says. "Good answer."

"Yeah, good enough to deserve a vacation," she quips. "Where are we going?"

"A very lovely beach on an uninhabited island," the Doctor says. "Planet Melisan, the Cloud Island. No one around for kilometers."

"Why not?" Donna asks.

"It's private land," the Doctor says. "Owned by the Emperor Melisondo. He gifted it to me a long time ago."

"Fuck yes," Donna says. "Amazing. A private alien island." She helps guide the TARDIS to a gentle landing and steps back. "I'm getting changed," she announces. "Don't forget your slides, the sand will probably be hot."

He watches her hurry off, the same flight of red hair and enthusiasm. For a moment he thanks whatever is out there that she's back and he doesn't have to go stand at statues and miss her anymore.

#tatennant #fourteen x donna #otp: never been so happy in my life #doctor x donna

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