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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Note

author, can you make agatha x reader, where agatha as the head chef at the high-end restaurant and us reader as the new worker in the kitchen?

Another one from November finally done 😅 also thank you so much for the picture GOD she looks good as a chef

I have also never worked in a restaurant and I know absolutely nothing about cooking/the culinary world so I apologize for any inaccuracies just roll with it lol

Under her knife

You finally get the job of your dreams working at Agatha Harkness's restaurant

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: spanking, fingering, Agatha is a mean boss, slight dub-con, praise kink, manipulative chef!Agatha

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

It was a dream come true when you got the call that you were hired at Agatha Harkness’s restaurant, Nicky’s Steakhouse.

She was a celebrity in the food world and getting an audience with her was near impossible.

As luck would have it, she came into one of your classes at The Culinary Institute of America a few days before your graduation for a demonstration on how to make gateau saint honoré, a French pastry dessert and one of the most difficult to make.

She had asked a question and you were the only one out of fifty students who raised your hand. Your voice shook as you answered and she looked surprised when you said the right thing.

Throughout the rest of the assembly of the ingredients, she kept looking over at you, like she was making sure you were paying attention. After the lesson, she asked to speak with you in private. You had never been so nervous in your life and you would never forget the way her blue eyes burned into yours when she told you that she saw something special and wanted you to come in for an interview.

At the high-end restaurant that she owned.

Just because you answered a question correctly.

But you were disappointed when you went in for it and you were met with just the sous-chef. Part of you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Agatha and was hoping you’d get to see her again.

She asked you questions, both about your experience and school, and how to make specific dishes. And then she put you in the kitchen and told you to make lobster thermidor.

She watched you intensely the whole time and when you were done, she took one bite and told you that you would find out within the next week.

A day later, you got a call from Agatha herself, who told you that she wanted you on board and that you start in a week.

And the day is finally here.

The first day of the rest of your life. You take a deep breath in your car and count to ten to calm your nerves. Your stomach is twisting in knots and you’re not sure you’ve ever been more anxious in your life.

But you’ve got this.

You were put on the evening shift and the moment you walk through the door, your nose is hit with the most delicious of smells. The restaurant is packed, like you’ve heard it is every night.

You’ve never actually eaten here before; it costs an arm and a leg and culinary school wasn’t cheap.

Winding through the tables to the kitchen, you catch sight of some of the most delectable food you’ve ever seen and your mouth waters.

You give yourself a tiny pinch just to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but it stings. This is real. This is happening.

The kitchen door swings open and you’re immediately almost knocked to the ground by three waitresses bustling out of the kitchen, carrying steaming bowls of pasta and platters of meat and towers of croquembouche. You jump out of the way, muttering a quick “Sorry” before carefully entering and staying close to the wall as you look around for Agatha.

It doesn’t take you long to see her, or rather, hear her.

“Are you incompetent?” Her voice rings out over the clambering of pots and pans and line cooks shouting to each other and you see Agatha Harkness on the other side of the kitchen glowering over a cowering man, a waiter by the way he’s dressed. Her white uniform is form-fitting and her dark hair is neatly tucked in a bun under her chef toque, her blue eyes filled with a dangerous heat. She’s wearing little gold hoop earrings and her lips are painted slightly pink.

The man standing in front of her visibly trembles. Fear twists in your stomach even though you’re not the one in trouble. What did he do? “Chef Harkness, I’m sorry,” he stammers but she slams her hand down on the countertop to shut him up.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” She scoffs and holds up a fork. The man gulps. “What kind of fork is this?”

“A salad fork,” he answers immediately.

Agatha drops the fork and it clangs on the floor. “So then why,” she hisses, leaning in closer, and you can feel the fear radiating off the man, “did you put it on the right side of the dinner fork in the corner booth? Did you forget that salad forks go on the left?”

He shakes his head furiously. “It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

“I don’t have time for mistakes. Get out of my kitchen. You’re fired,” she barks and your jaw drops.

What have you gotten yourself into? You didn’t realize how ruthless Agatha was going to be. What if you mess up tonight?

Will she fire you just as quickly?

The man, to his credit, doesn’t put up a fight. He takes off his name tag vest and hands it to her before stalking out of the kitchen, brushing past you on his way out. No one else has even looked up from what they’re doing. Is this just a standard routine?

You swallow roughly and turn back to Agatha and find, with a jolt, that she’s already looking at you, a throbbing vein prominent in her forehead.

She beckons you forward, and as if in a trance, you make your way over to her, stopping every now and then to let someone with food slide past you.

“There she is,” Agatha says when you get to her and she studies you like she’s judging if you know where a salad fork should go.

You offer a shaky smile. “Hi, Chef Harkness, I just want to say thank you so much for this opportunity and I’m going to do my best with every single meal. I promise I won’t let you down.”

Agatha snorts and thrusts the fired man’s name tag and vest into your hands. “Easy there, y/n,” and a thrill runs through you at her knowing your name, “Your uniform is in the backroom. Put it on and get to work.”

Nodding, it becomes clear to you that she doesn’t want to talk anymore, so you rush back and find a double-breasted coat, checkered pants, apron, and toque neatly folded on a bench with your name printed on them. The uniform fits you perfectly which you’re a little surprised about.

You’re not exactly sure what to do with the fired man’s stuff, so you just leave it there.

Even though you’re a bit weary from the display you just saw, you can’t help but feel incredibly excited that you’re actually here. You have worked so hard, spent so many hours pouring over recipe books, gotten so many burns on your skin from boiling water, cried over dishes that didn’t turn out well no matter how hard you tried — it finally paid off.

Emotion rushes through you but you tamp it down with a deep breath. You need to focus. You need to be at the top of your game and show Agatha that you do deserve to be here.

It starts out easy enough. Roast prime rib au jus. Grilled yellowfin ahi. French onion soup.

Every so often, Agatha comes over and stands over your shoulder, close enough that you can feel her hot breath on your neck. It gives you goosebumps and you have to remind yourself to keep working.

“Good girl,” she says into your ear after you put a plate down of lobster bisque and that particularly makes a shiver run through you.

You find yourself getting a little distracted after that, your eyes following her across the kitchen wherever she goes and hoping that she comes back over to give you some more praise.

Agatha yells at someone else for using too much salt on a dish, dumping it off the plate into the trash and demanding the cook make a new plate, and you duck your head down when she looks over at you so she doesn’t see you watching. Too late.

You can almost feel her coming over to you, dread filling in your stomach as you wait. Is she going to get mad at you for not minding your own business? Everyone else here has seemed to learn how to.

Her front brushes against your back. “You seem a little on edge,” she murmurs and your heart skips a beat. “Don’t worry, hon. I won’t punish you — unless you deserve it.”

It makes your cheeks heat up and your hand shakes just as you’re carefully scooping a teaspoon of garlic salt out of the container. The spoonful drops onto the counter and Agatha chuckles from behind you before reaching around and swiping it onto the floor, effectively getting rid of the mess from your workspace.

If it was anyone else, would she have gotten mad? Maybe she’s just taking it easy on you because it’s your first day.

“No harm done,” she remarks and then she’s gone and you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding.

It’s almost fascinating to watch her work, to watch her sweep through the kitchen and check out everyone’s dishes, sprinkling in some advice and ingredients every now and then. She doesn’t hesitate to make someone redo something because it’s not good enough, but it surprises you that no one complains. If anything, they agree.

You suppose that’s the sign of a good Head Chef. They make you better. And when you’re blending all the ingredients of butternut squash soup together and Agatha comes over and wraps her arms around you, her hands on top of yours, to show you how to more effectively stir, you really do feel like you’ve learned something.

“She’s being really nice to you,” one of the other line cooks says while you’re both waiting for new orders to come in.

You shrug. “It’s my first day. Guess she’s just showing me the ropes.” The cook doesn’t look convinced, but there’s no time to think about it as you have to start making stuffed gnocchi.

The next few hours pass quickly. You barely have a chance to think as you’re running back and forth, grabbing things and throwing them into a pan and making sure they’re perfect. You’ve worked up a sweat and you find a few seconds to wipe the beads from your brow before you’re back to work.

But as the night stretches on, the orders come in less frequently as the rush dies down and soon you only have about twenty minutes left. Your final dish of the night is a raspberry walnut torte.

Because it’s almost closing time, about half of the cooks finished their shifts a while ago so it’s an intimate setting, just you, Agatha, and four others, everyone quietly moving around and trying to finish up the food they have left. You are absolutely exhausted and you cannot wait to go back to your apartment.

You’ve just finished your dessert and placed it on the rack at the window, finally feeling like you can relax.

And then Agatha’s voice cuts through the relative silence. “Who just made this torte?”

Your stomach drops and you sheepishly raise your hand. What did you do wrong?

She grabs a fork and pokes the slice and the center sinks down almost in slow motion. Fuck. “What temperature did you cook it at?” She asks and you think you could just combust with embarrassment on the spot.

“Three-sixty,” you rasp, and the moment you say it out loud, you realize your mistake. Tortes should be cooked at three-hundred and fifty degrees, and if they’re cooked too hot, the outside of it cooks faster than the inside.

Leading to a cracked or sunken torte.

“Chef, I’m sorry, it was a mistake,” you plead, panic and terror spiking through your blood. You were doing so good — now she was certainly going to fire you.

Agatha sighs, closes her eyes, and pinches her nose like she’s trying to decide what to do with you. When she opens them, the steely blue frightens you. “Make another one,” she says.

Your mouth drops open. “But it won’t be done in time,” you protest and she smirks.

“I know. I’m going to go out there and tell them that there was a mishap and that we won’t be able to get them their raspberry walnut torte that they were so looking forward to,” she says and it makes you feel even worse. “It won’t be pretty. You’ve just lost yourself and your fellow line cooks their tip. So the least you could do is show me that you do in fact know how to make a torte and that I shouldn’t fire you on the spot right now.”

She storms out of the kitchen and you make a tremendous effort to not look at any of the other cooks while you go back to your station and pull out the ingredients to make it again.

By the time Agatha comes back into the kitchen, it’s time for everyone else to go home. Shame burns your cheeks as they leave without saying goodbye to you and Agatha quietly sits on a stool and watches you work to finish the torte.

When you pull it out of the freezer where it’s been cooling for a few minutes, you feel like you could pass out on the kitchen floor right there.

Agatha pokes it with a fork again and you almost sob with relief when it doesn’t crack or sink. But it’s not over yet.

She takes her first bite and chews thoughtfully like she’s tasting for every single ingredient. “Adequate,” she says after she swallows. “But you’re still fired.”

“What?” You gasp, your heart skipping a beat. “No, please, Chef, it was an accident, I can make it, look!”

Agatha puts her fork down. “You fixed it this time. But how can I be sure it won’t happen again?”

“I promise, please — I’ll do anything,” you say desperately. “I’ll be careful, I won’t mess up again!”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrow raises and a slow smirk spreads over face. “Anything?” She asks.

You nod earnestly. “Anything!”

Agatha stands up so quickly it makes you step back from where you’ve been standing next to her. She cups your cheek and then slides her hand down to tap under your chin. “How about…” she muses, eyes looking you up and down. She looks hungry. “I give you ten spanks.”

“What?” Did you hear her wrong? Is she joking? She doesn’t look like she is.

“One spank for each degree hotter you cooked the torte at. It’s the only way you’ll learn,” she explains like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Bend over on the counter.”

Despite the sheer insanity at it, a heat rushes through your body. You wanted her attention earlier, didn’t you?

Seems like you have it now.

So you try to slow your racing heart and obey. Your forearms rest on the cool metal from where you pushed your sleeves up to work earlier and your head slightly hangs downward, waiting. There’s a little voice in the back of your head that says this is wrong, but you shut it down. You can’t get fired.

She unties the apron and lets it fall to the floor at your feet and you let out a small gasp.

“I’m a little disappointed in you, to be honest, hon,” she says as she pushes up your coat. It tears at your heart a little. “But I know that you’re going to make up for it. You’re about to take your punishment like a good girl and show me that you’re really committed to being here. Isn’t that right?”

You nod and try to ignore the burning in your stomach. What is she doing to you? “Yes, Chef,” you answer hoarsely and let out a little whimper when she yanks down your pants. You curse yourself for deciding to wear a purple thong. “What—”

“Shh,” she says and rubs your now-bare ass. You hate that you can feel your underwear sticking to you. Can she see it? “Count for me.”

And then she spanks you and it makes you jump. For some reason, you thought she’d at least ease into it a little, but the impact reverberates through you and makes you gasp.

“One,” you breathe and she chuckles.

The next three follow in quick succession, with Agatha waiting only long enough to hear you count.

After the fifth one, you’re squirming, head resting on your forearms to hide your tears, but the sting has ebbed into pleasure. You’re getting off on this.

And when Agatha makes a surprised sound and cups your pussy through your underwear, making your hips rock forward instinctively, you know that she knows. Her hand disappears quickly and you let out a little whine.

“All the best chefs like a little pain,” she remarks conversationally, spanking you again. You gasp out a “six” and she keeps talking. “It’s the only way to get better. To strive for greatness is to accept that it will hurt. I see your potential, I see how good you can be. Just keep working with me, honey, and I’ll get you there.”

She spanks you again but you can hardly feel it with the fuzziness that has crept into your mind at her words. Agatha Harkness, the best chef in the world, believes in you.

“Seven,” you remember to say after a moment and she tuts in your ear.

Agatha soothes the red skin and you relax for a moment before she slaps your ass again. “You’re doing so well for well, honey. Keep going to these lengths to impress me and rectify your mistakes and you could be my sous-chef in no time.”

The promise makes your head spin. “Eight,” you count when she slaps you again.

“Such a good girl,” she coos and you are aching. You need her to touch you more than anything.

Never in a million years did you imagine your first day would look like this.

She spanks you again. “Nine,” you croak, the feeling spreading throughout your body almost unbearable.

“Last one. And then I think you deserve a reward,” she purrs and slaps both your asscheeks at the same time, making you yelp.

Agatha gives you a moment to recover before pulling you up by your coat collar and turning you around and you gasp at how flushed she is. Her cheeks have a red tint to them, her bottom lip swollen — she must’ve been biting it — and her eyes have a heat that you saw earlier, when she fired the waiter.

But this is a different heat.

You’re sure you look the exact same.

She steps even closer to you and slides a hand into your underwear, making your jaw drop.

“God, you’re wet,” she taunts and you can’t even argue. She wastes no time shoving a finger into you and rubbing at your clit with her thumb and your arms wind around her shoulders for leverage.

“So I’m not fired?” You ask, and obviously there were a million other times that would’ve been better for that question, but it seems fitting.

Agatha laughs breathless and fits a second finger into you, making you moan. “You’re not fired, honey. We’re going to do great things together. Knew it the moment I saw you.” She curls her fingers roughly and you keen, tightening your grip around her. Your walls spasm around her and try to draw her in.

Her fingers feel absolutely delicious inside you, filling you just the way you needed to, and you can already feel the tension building in your lower stomach. The spanking got you close, her praise got you closer, and now the great hands of Chef Agatha Harkness are going to finish you off.

Your head falls back when she scissors her fingers, stretching you out and you hiss at the burn, and she chuckles while she takes in your thoroughly ruined state.

“What temperature do you cook a torte at?” She asks and you almost don’t hear it over the wet sounds coming from your pussy every time she thrusts inside you.

It takes you a moment to answer, but when you at last moan out “Three-fifty,” she smirks and bends down to nip at your neck over your collar. You tilt your head to the side to give her more access and she takes it all. She flicks her tongue against your clavicle and sucks, pulling another moan from your mouth.

You’re so close, the pleasure almost overwhelming, and your breathing has gotten faster, your heart rate through the roof.

The kitchen has been where you’ve felt most alive your whole life, nothing better than creating something from scratch and carefully curating it to make it into something new — is that what Agatha is doing with you? She plucked you out of your classmates from culinary school, gave a freshly graduated chef a job at her high end restaurant, turned up the heat, and is promising that under her, you’ll turn into a great chef.

Agatha twists her fingers and you moan, babbling something incoherently, and she rubs your clit harder.

“Cum for me,” she growls into your ear and thrusts her fingers inside you as far as they can go and you do — a whine falling from your lips as your pussy walls clench uncontrollably around her, tension exploding through your body.

She keeps fucking you through your orgasm and doesn’t stop until your breathing has evened out and you start to squirm away because of how sensitive you’ve become. And yet, you still whine when she pulls her fingers out of you.

Agatha lifts her fingers to her mouth and sucks on them, holding eye contact and moaning like she’s a world-class chef and you’re still the best thing she’s ever tasted.

You awkwardly adjust your underwear, pull up your pants, and clear your throat. Should you thank her for the fact that you still have a job? Or that she just fingered you in her restaurant?

“Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Agatha says before you try to break the silence. “You’re not going to make any more mistakes?” Her tone is teasing — you smile and shake your head.

“No, I promise.” Your voice is still a little raspy and it makes her smirk.

She grabs her purse and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you out of the kitchen and to the entrance of the restaurant. Her head tilts down and her forehead presses against your temple. “Good, cause I’d hate to have to punish you again.” Except Agatha doesn’t sound like she means that at all and it sears through you.

At least it seems like you have a little bit of job security, even though you don’t want to mess up any more. You’re going to prove to Agatha that you do deserve this job, that you can be as good of a chef as she thinks you can be.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs at the entrance and takes her arm around you, immediately missing the warmth it brought you.

“Good first day, honey,” she says with a wink and it makes your cheeks heat up.

And then she’s walking away and you stumble to your car while trying to figure out what the hell you just got yourself into.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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buecketsnbueckets · 2 days ago

Text

face to face | P.B

summary: you and paige have been nonstop texting since that day she messaged you. a friendship is forming so what better thing for friendship than to invite her to stay with you for a weekend in LA?

pairing: actress!reader x paige bueckers

contains: tooth rotting fluff, a little bit of tension, THEYRE MEETING!!!

a/n: here’s part 2 of actress reader and paige. things are getting serious!! my inbox is open for more oneshot ideas <3 we’re gonna ignore how long this took me to write!

Interviews had died down now that you weren’t in any projects coming up. Yeah, you had a few more red carpets but there was nothing else for you to promote so you were pretty bored.

Your and Paige’s relationship was feverishly growing within the past two weeks. You were texting one another almost everyday and now that college was out for the summer, you brought up an idea to Rachel while you were relaxing as a little girls night with face masks and drinks.

“Do you think I should invite Paige to stay here for a few days?” You brought up as you took a sip of your homemade mixture of vodka and apple juice.

Rachel sat upright from your oh-so-soft comforter, her sheet mask nearly falling off of her face from the sudden rush.

“Like stay here at your apartment?” She questions, smoothing down the sheet back onto her face as she speaks.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want her to stay at some dingy hotel.”

Rachel hums in thought as she tries to think of a few reasons why it could be a bad idea but her mind blanked.

“You know what? Yeah. I say go for it. I want to meet this girl.” Rachel encourages as she motions to your phone that was charging on the bedside table.

As you scramble to text her, you pause your movements before turning to Rachel with a worried expression.

“Wait, what if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a weirdo because I’m inviting her to stay at my place after knowing her for almost 3 weeks?”

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh at your doubting thoughts.

“Don’t piss me off. Text that girl right now so you can plan it out.”

Before you knew it, you were driving home from the airport with Paige in your passenger's seat. You made small talk throughout the drive, warming up to each other’s personalities and presence.

“Here is my place. You can just set your stuff in my room.” You explain to Paige as you open the front door, allowing her to step in.

Her ponytail swung to the side as she looked around the space, whistling lowly at how large it was. You flush at her reaction and shake your head as you shut the door, locking it behind you.

“You got a nice place. Hollywood treats you nice,” the blonde teases your slight luxury apartment.

You motion to your bedroom with an eye roll. “Go and put your stuff down so we can get started on those pizza’s, Bueckets.”

She chuckled at your words as her tongue prods at her inner cheek and walks over to your bedroom, setting them by the closet door. You and Paige decided to make these flower margherita pizza for her first night. It was just three days you were getting her here in LA and you were saving sightseeing for tomorrow. Plus, you wanted to get to know her in person, not over the internet.

You don’t really know what you’re expecting from this weekend but you were more than excited. Once you have given Paige a mini tour of your apartment, you turn to her with a beaming grin, practically bouncing on the balls on your feet. It was evening now, a soft orange hue flowing through your tall windows as you played Spotify on the TV in your living room. Reluctantly, you allowed Paige to be in charge of that for the night.

She was the guest after all.

“So, I heard you like Shirley Temples so,” you motion for her to follow you to your kitchen, grabbing onto the cool handle of the refrigerator and tugging it open to peek into it. “I made you a pitcher of it.”

Paige’s jaw drops at the sight of the large glass of her favorite drink, running a hand over her mouth as she glances at you in shock.

“Nah, no way you did this,” she shakes her head in amusement as she reaches for it.

“I did, I did,” you nod with a proud grin, shrugging your shoulders. “I thought it would go well with our pizza’s.”

Paige thanks you with an absolutely giddy smile as she just drinks it straight out of the pitcher. You honestly didn't mind as you weren’t the biggest Shirley Temple fan. You giggle as you whip out your phone from your back pocket to take photos of her.

You had to pry it from her fingers as your hunger was taking over. To your surprise, the dynamic between the two of you was if you were childhood friends reconnecting after not seeing each other for ages. After you set down the pitcher, you pull out the dough from the freezer and the rest of the necessary ingredients needed; the sauce, cheese and basil leaves.

As you place the round pieces of mozzarella in the flower shape, you glance at Paige’s focused expression as she does the same. You purse your lips to hide how overwhelmingly ecstatic you were to have her here.

“So, how are you dealing with this,” you motion with a piece in your hand as you spoke, trying to find the right words, “attention you’re getting?”

Paige hums in thought as she looks to you as if it would help her explain it better.

“I mean, I don’t know. At first, it was so weird like people just know who I am and what I do. Most people are nice though. Respectful and considerate. I appreciate that,” she tells you slowly, her smile growing. “I mean, I definitely don’t think I would’ve met you without it so that’s a big plus.”

“Corny,” you tease as you shake your head. “But no, I get it. It can be overwhelming sometimes. I know how it feels. If you ever, you know, need someone to talk to about it, you have my number for a reason.”

Paige’s eyes round at your offer, nodding to herself as she takes your words in with consideration.

“Thank you,” she licks her lips before dusting off her hands as she finishes her side of the pizza. “I think we’re done, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, feeling a bit accomplished with the pizza. It looked almost exactly like the photo reference you had gotten from Pinterest.

“Wait, hold on,” you take a quick photo of the pizza and then motion for Paige to stand next to it.

She does so with glee, grinning and staring at you from behind your phone. You make it her profile picture with a shit-eating grin on your face and jerk your head to the preheated oven.

“Alright now we’re good. It says to leave it in for 10-15 so we’ll check on it then.” You instruct the blonde to place it in the middle.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige mutters to herself as she does as she’s told.

You stare at her bent down figure and shake your head as if it would be rid of the heat flooding your cheeks. She’s just being respectful and you were flustered like a schoolgirl with a crush.

You thought with your years of hiding these feelings you would succeed at some point.

Thankfully, Paige was too focused on not burning her arms to see your expression.

“So what do you have planned for me this weekend?” Paige questioned as she folded her arms and stood back up to face you.

“Well, I think we could visit all of the Walk of Fame, go to In and Out, maybe go to Santa Monica beach at sunset, very L.A things, you know?” You explain to the blonde with a giddy grin.

Paige nods along with your brief explanation of what you had mentally prepped with your new… friend? Yeah, she was a friend.

What else would she be?

“Damn, I was hoping to get a BBL or something,” she sighs in faux disappointment.

“Oh, next time, for sure,” you pat your shoulder to console her, chuckling at her words.

Paige whistles as she slightly leans closer to you. “Are you sugar-mommying me with your Hollywood money?”

You roll your eyes at her words but can’t help the smile itching at your lips as you point to her pitcher of Shirley temple and then to her pink lips.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Paige raises her hands up before taking the pitcher into her larger palms once again.

The two of you continue to talk all night as you feast on the rather delicious pizza. You wouldn’t dare utter the words yet but your crush was swelling on the blonde. Sure, yes, you had the two of you get along, which you did, but you were hoping that she would expose that she had a secret girlfriend or something.

Nope: free as a bird.

You pushed the creeping feelings back into the depths of your brain throughout the weekend as you didn’t want to center your feelings but her time here in L.A. With her, you weren’t really focused on whether or not you had to be insanely picture perfect every time you took a step outside or avoiding certain places due to paparazzi; you could enjoy every moment with her without second-guessing.

It was… peaceful. A breath of fresh air.

She even met Rachel when the girl had ‘coincidentally’ showed up at a coffee shop you two were at on Sunday. You knew she had your location so you weirdly weren’t shocked at all by this. The two thankfully got along. Rachel didn’t miss an opportunity to raise her brows at you, nodding in approval of the basketball player when she excused herself to the bathroom at some point.

“She’s hotter in person, dude. Good for you,” she whispers with a bubbly grin.

“I hate you,” you sigh but internally agree.

She was just irritatingly perfect in every way.

Fuck.

yourusername my weekend! 😝

tagged: @paigebueckers

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paigebueckers | I had fun I guess 🤣

↳ yourusername | never come back 💜

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rachelzegler | i think i’m still blinded by the red lights 😵‍💫

↳ yourusername | shine some blue light to even it out 😇

randomuser | Not Paige hounding a whole pitcher of Shirley Temple😭😭

comment liked by author

↳ yourusername | JUST GREEDY🙄

↳ paigebueckers | You made it for me 💔

randomuser | this feels like a hard launch goodbye.

randomuser | NOBDOY MOVE?!&!-!&!1&2!

kamoreaarnold | Okay LA girl!!!😝😝

↳ yourusername | i fear she’s changed

↳ paigebuckers | Nah I’m still me 😎

↳ yourusername | alr cornball

comment liked by paigebueckers

randomuser | why is no one talking about how they literally had never interacted until almost a month ago and now they’re HANGING OUT??

randomuser | WE DID THIS GUYS!!!!

comment liked by rachelzegler

randomuser | RACHEL…..

williamskayla_ | Now i’m jealous! That pizza looks good 😔

↳ yourusername | i told paige to bring everyone next time 😩

TAG-LIST: @jnkbueckers @ch-3-rry @sayurireidotcom @numberonepartyanth3m @ddeonmixx @simp4women08

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #sapphic #wlw #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball

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bbina · 1 day ago

Text

a backpack is suddenly slammed against the table causing you to jump in place. in an instant, you looked up to see who just did that and there you see seunghan, who was breathing heavily

seems like he ran for his life to catch you in the cafeteria

"oh its just you hanie" you grin, shutting your phone off as you greet the boy who took the seat in front of you. seunghan grabs both of your hands, shaking them as he chants "TELL ME EVERYTHING NOW"

you let out a loud laugh seeing his reaction. you've sorta expected this already thats why you've been hiding an important information about you and his friend behind his back

"i already told you, it happened once and never happened again! though i guess that brought us closer" you hum, thinking about everything that has happened between you and wonbin for the past few weeks

something really did change but despite the no label, you like it

it's pretty casual to be honest. just spending time with each other at the end of the day after classes and what not. watching movies and meeting up after to debrief, the continuous late night snacking at the nearby convenience store, the comfortable silence inside your apartment when he would come over to just strum away his thoughts while you work on your assignments and the such

the mundane things, really

your train of thought about your new profound "relationship" with wonbin gets cut off when you feel two people sit beside you. it was karina and giselle

"sorry to burst your reminiscent thoughts about seunghan's friend but hey" giselle greets, giving you a side hug. karina does the same and swats seunghan's hands from yours

"you finally told him?" she asks, resting her head on your shoulder as she pokes her tongue out at seunghan who looked like he was a puppy who got kicked

"you really told them first?! when i was basically your bridge to wonbin?!" seunghan complains, covering his face with his hands

you and the girls laugh at his misery

"it's not that serious hanie! its all girl talk anyway" you chuckle

"but im part of the girls! you three are literally seunghan's angels!" seunghan continues to complain but nevertheless he feels at ease that you're finally happy despite everything that happened to you throughout the year

you four continue to converse yourselves, talking about wonbin til someone taps seunghan on the shoulder. seunghan looks up and gasps before making room for the newcomer

"oh shit sion! i forgot about you" seunghan stammers, moving his backpack out of the way so this sion guy had a place to sit

"you literally left me inside the classroom to run here, what gives?" sion huffs, sitting down next to seunghan

"guys! this is my partner for my practical exam! this is sion, sion, these are my friends giselle, karina and y/n!" seunghan introduces sion to the three of you

you finally look up to see who this sion guy was and your eyes widened yet again

it was the same boy who found your keychain earlier today

"oh its you!" you gasp in shock. sion does the same. you were the keychain girl he met in the hallway after your keychain fell off your bag

"the fuck? you know him too?" seunghan says, confused

you shake your head no

"no i just met him today. he found my keychain when it fell as i was walking to my building" you explain, showing seunghan the four leafed clover keychain that's dangling on your bag

seunghan scoffs playfully, "of course you'd freak the fuck out if that keychain of yours gets lost. it is won-"

before seunghan could finish his sentence, you covered his mouth with your hand to prevent him from sharing more unnecessary info to a new person around the table

sion looks at you and seunghan all confused. is he missing something? but he decides not to pry since he literally just met you three

"anyway! hello sion we hope seunghan here doesn't make you insane with your practical exam coming" you greet, welcoming him to the table at least. karina and giselle both giggle as they welcome him as well

sion shyly smiles, hiding his face

"oh, you guys don't know how he is in class" sion murmurs, loud enough for everyone in the table to hear making everyone laugh

"hey! that's not true!" seunghan defends himself, "i'm a model student in class you know!"

you all now start to converse among yourselves, as seunghan and sion start their little meeting about what song they would like to perform for their upcoming practical exams, you girls also added your input and opinions while suggesting songs that could work for the two of them. telling seunghan to credit the three of you for their performance to which the latter quips that he'd make a whole monologue at the beginning of their performance about how their performance would be a special one as his friends added their own magic to it when the day comes causing the table to laugh at the absurdity of it

after awhile everyone was just doing their own things and killing time. your phone suddenly vibrates. you checked the notification and it was a message from wonbin

[1:19 PM] binnie 😡: tell seunghan to pipe it down i can hear what song he wants to perform

you let out a small chuckle. you look up, looking around the cafeteria to see where wonbin was at and at the corner of your eye, you spot someone waving their phone in the air. a smile is instantly plastered on your face when you recognize the person as wonbin

[1:21 PM] binnie 😡: found u hahahaha [1:22 PM] you: weirdo. stalker much? [1:23 PM] binnie 😡: you literally know i'm gonna be at the cafeteria today hahaha we just finished our own meeting. can i sit with you guys or am i in enemy territory? hahahaha [1:23 PM] binnie 😡: jk

you roll your eyes playfully at his text

[1:24 PM] you: obv its okay to sit with us tf we look like? [1:25 PM] binnie 😡: the mean girls. regina, gretchen, karen and cady [1:26 PM] you: i'm impressed you know the characters.. but who is hanie supposed to be? [1:27 PM] binnie 😡: damian?

you burst out laughing at his text, catching the attention of everyone in the table. seunghan, who read the contact name, immediately snatches your phone of your hand

"oh my god no texting your boyfriend when your friends are around!" seunghan playfully gags and makes vomit noises

"hanie!" you yelped, snatching your phone back, "why did you have to snatch my phone!"

seunghan shrugs, "probably because your boyfriend–"

"who's boyfriend?" wonbin suddenly inserts himself to the conversation, smoothly taking the empty space on seunghan's left, throwing his backpack on the ground

"YOU!" seunghan points a menacing finger at wonbin, "you're y/n's boyfriend! fess up now while sion's here!"

wonbin looks over at seunghan and sees sion poking his head out. sion waves at wonbin and even winks at him making wonbin laugh

"woah what the fuck" wonbin reacts, totally not expecting sion to sit with you guys

"yo" sion greets. he takes a moment to look between you and wonbin, trying to piece it together thanks to seunghan's whole tangent. "nice to meet your girlfriend?" sion says more of a question as he looks between you and wonbin for confirmation

you and wonbin shake your heads no causing seunghan and giselle to groan

"they're at it again" giselle complains, putting her head in her hands while karina laughs quietly amongst herself

you shoot wonbin a knowing look and he returns the favor by smiling

"SEE! THEY'RE LITERALLY FLIRTING WITH THEIR EYES IN FRONT OF US" seunghan shakes his hands in pure desperation to prove that there really is something going on between you and his friend

"just mind your business and make up your mind with the song you and sion are going to perform" you shrug him off, causing sion and wonbin to burst out laughing

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . flirting with their eyes

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ two people on board on the binyn train

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @peterm4rker @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @ennycutie @sa3ha @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

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psychesalcove · 2 days ago

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you have a mythological beauty, you have the eye of someone i have seen.

♡ percy jackson x fem.reader

sypnosis: (college au) as college students, your days were filled to the brim with classes and work to be done. percy, and you still manage to find time for each other, even if it is just a bath.

tw: bathing together but not sexually, not really any plot I just wrote as I went, mentions of getting burned (from a candle), being naked but again not in a sexual way, percys down bad for reader but who's surprised, not proofread.

a/n: guys whosss back!! again, i apologize for not writing for so long, schools just been kicking my butt, as it always does. i really should be writing a research paper rn, but my wanting to write got way to big to ignore, so here we are!! i missed writing for this blog so much, sorry again for going m.i.a 😓

"hey, you." You muttered lightly as you walked into the living room. your online classes for the day—which meant finally being able to come out of your office you had been cooped up in all day. percy looked no less tired than you; he had a half filled out google doc open on his computer, but it looked like he hadn't made another attempt to write for a while.

his head moved at the sound of your voice, getting broken out of whatever trance he was in. "hey yourself," he hummed, hands moving from the keyboard to your arms where he started rubbing up and down. "how was your day?"

you sighed slightly, relishing in the feeling of percys hands on your arms. "same shit as always. our class got a new project, but she hasn't given out our groups yet."

percy winced, his arms coming to a stop so you could rest your hands on his. "im sorry, pretty. hopefully, you'll get a good group," he said, hand leaving its place on your arm to close his laptop. "i don't think thats gonna get done anytime soon," he stated, more to himself than to you.

you tilted your head slightly at that, but percy already responded to the question brewing in your head. "it's not due for another three-ish weeks. I'll get it done before then, promise," he laughed as you smiled at him.

"well," you started. "since it seems both of us are done with work for today, how do you feel about a bath?" you asked, watching percys face light up at the suggestion. you smiled at him again. "you can go start it and i'll make tea for us—i got camomile the other day at the store," you pulled away from percy and headed to the kitchen as you heard his footsteps fade into your bedroom.

—

no sooner had the water started boling on the kettle did you hear the sound of water running from the bathroom. taking a bath together had become something both of you enjoyed doing; it allowed for your minds to process all that had happened throughout the day while enjoying eachothers company at the same time.

you quickly grabbed the two mugs from the counter that now held hot camomile tea and started your walk to the bathroom.

—

percy was sitting on the toilet seat when you walked in, lighter in hand. you raised an eyebrow at him. "what are you doing?" you giggled, setting down the mugs on the counter.

"im trying to light the candle without buring my skin off, thank you very much," he said as he rolled his eyes playfully at you, gesturing aimlessly with the lighter, trying to prove his point.

"here," you hummed, grabbing the candle and lighter from him. percy could usually light candles for the first couple times, but if the wick gets to short for his liking, he ended up burning himself.

"i used the lavender bubble bath, i hope that's okay," he said, grabbing the now lit up candle from you so he could put it on the edge of the tub. you smiled at him, signaling that the lavender sent was fine.

percy stepped into the tub, and it was then that you noticed he had already taken his clothes off. he looked at you expectedly. "you gonna come in?" he prompted, raising his arm out of the water—showing off the bubbles that were already all over him.

"my gods, be patient perce," you joked, already removing your sweatpants and top. "you were in here for longer than me, and be grateful i made you tea," you said as he simply laughed in response. you quickly found yourself in the warmth of the water, now sitting facing percy.

"hi," he giggled, showing you his teeth.

"hi." you replied. the bathroom was casted in a warm glow from the vanilla candle lit, and the light sounds of water rippling only added to the blanket of solace that the bathroom was encased in.

"what are you doing over there still?" he asked, moving his arms under the water so that they now rested on your hips. "i wanna be closer to you," he said in a semi-whiny voice, hands slightly tightening their hold on you.

you giggled and pointed at his face. "i'll cuddle you—if you get the fake mustache off," you said, refering to the bubbles that were on his face; you didn't think he even realized it was there. before he could respond, you moved your hand to softly wipe away the suds of his face, his smile greeting you as you removed your hand.

you sighed and smiled back, moving your body so that you were now in between his legs, your back on his chest and head resting just below his chin. "happy now?" you giggled, feeling his hands come to rest on your stomach.

"very," he sighed, his nose coming down to rest on your head. "i didn't ask earlier," he mumbled into your head before realizing you probably couldn't make out what he was saying. "do you think we could go to that new flower shop this weekend?"

you hummed. "the one on the same street as that good pizza place?" you asked, your hands going to his arms to rub them soothingly; repeating the motion he was doing to you earlier.

"yeah, that one." he mused. "i wanna get mom and you flowers, there were pretty hibiscus flowers i saw," he countined, his thumbs moving in slow circles on your stomach.

you giggled again and moved your head to press a light kiss to his upper arm. "you just got both of us flowers, perce."

you felt him shrug his shoulders behind you. "maybe, but the two prettiest girls always need new flowers," he said so simply, as if he didn't just say the most precious thing you've ever heard.

"oh, and i put your favorite towels in the dryer so i'll go and get them before you get out,"

if your heart didn't explode from the previous statement, than this one most definitely did. you fully turned your body so you were facing him, and then you gently pressed your lips to his.

you pulled back, putting a hand to his chest as he tried to chase your lips. "percy jackson, the man you are," you stated. he simply grinned at you, looking into your eyes with nothing but love and devotion to you.

#psyches writes ཐིཋ๋ྀ࣭⭑#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo x you #pjo x you #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #the heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson x #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader fluff #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction

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practicalgauntlet · 3 days ago

Text

Alexithymia

(n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally

PART ONE

Synopsis- You and Spencer share music on the jet after a grueling case.

Category- Fluff

Notes- fluff, no smut, confessions without words, Mutual pining, tension, very little dialogue, short one-shot, canon typical violence, mentions of death and murder, takes place between season one and season six but nothing about the show is mentioned just an overall vibe for Spencer, the reader has Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome, softcore flirting, I don't believe in Dom!Spencer so don't expect it, a vague description of the music you listen to because I refuse to describe the reader in any way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The case had been grueling. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a mother had killed her children, or that's what the unsub wanted you to think. Hotch was the first to deduce that Sherl McCain was as much a victim as her three beautiful babies.

They were brutalized, beaten, and bloodied beyond recognition those children. It broke your heart to see them like that, their faces permanently screwed in terror as they reached out for their mother.

Throughout the week-long case, where you and the team chased lead after lead only to end up at a dead end, a pit of dread hung heavy at the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was breaking for that family, and the two others that died before you could catch him.

Even with the sick bastard forever behind bars, you couldn't shake the absolute anguish that had etched itself into your bones.

You and the team loaded into the jet, exhausted and ready to get back home. Morgan was fast asleep in his chair, Emily and J.J. sat at the back talking amongst themselves, and Hotch and Rossi were going over the case at the front.

You were thankful no one wanted to talk to you at that moment, desperate for some sort of escape, even if it was short-lived. So you dug through your bag for your MP3 player and headphones. With years of songs downloaded, all you had to do was hit shuffle and you already felt better.

The plane ride was supposed to be long, so you got comfortable, leaned your head back, and let your music take you to another place. A place where a mother and her children weren't murdered in cold blood because some psychotic fucker thought it was thrilling.

Not three minutes in, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and see Spencer looking at you curiously. It took effort not to roll your eyes when your daydreams were interrupted, but Spencer's soft voice made it all worthwhile.

"What kind of music are you listening to?"

Before you answer him, you pause your music, giving him your full, undivided attention. You notice, that if it were someone else, you would have pretended to be asleep just so you wouldn't have to stop listening to your song. "Nothing you'd like, Boy Wonder."

He sat down next to you and then motioned to an earbud. "Let me be the judge of that."

You shrug, knowing that the music you were about to play was a far cry from the songs Spencer listens to. But you couldn't lie to yourself, the idea of sharing earbuds with him had butterflies flapping around in your stomach. So, instead of telling him no -which you find yourself unable to anyway- you offer him your left earbud and press play.

The song's thrumming beat continued, and you were right back in your daydream. You felt yourself drift away, your body and mind floating towards a world different from yours. Just as you were dozing off, lulled to relaxation and comfort within your own mind, you felt Spencer lean over. His breath was hot against your ear, and the ghost of his lips made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"I've always wondered what put you in a trance, you have good music taste."

You turn your head slightly, his face so close to yours, that you could reply without the music drowning out your voice. "I didn't take you for the type."

He simply hummed and turned his head away from yours, his eyes closing as the bridge of the song ended and the beat picked back up. Minutes pass by and you feel yourself drifting off again, your gaze locked on some minute detail of the seat in front of you but you never really register anything that crosses into your vision. Spencer's shoulder was suddenly pressed to yours, his thigh closer than before, warming you like you were placed in front of a crackling fire. Not just because he was a walking space heater, but because you feel your blood pressure spike, your cheeks and neck warming with a blush you knew was on full display.

You didn't know when he scooted closer, you only knew when he was so close you could time his breaths. Taking a sweeping look around the cabin you make sure none of the other members were looking at you with that knowing, mischievous smirk they always wore when they saw you and Spencer together. Maybe they knew of your blatant and undeniable crush on him. Deep down you hoped you weren't so obvious but in a room of profilers, no secret remained hidden.

Quietly, you hear Spencer humming along with the song, the timbre of his voice relaxing you back into that trance you so often put yourself into.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A bout of turbulence woke you up from a sleep you don't remember falling into. The lights in the cabin were off save for the small overhead light Hotch always kept on. That small glow allowed you to see that everyone was asleep.

It took you longer than you liked to admit that the comforting, heavy warmth clinging to your left side was not a figment of your imagination. Sometime during your sleep, you had curled yourself around Spencer's side, laying your head on his shoulder and entangling his arm with yours.

You stiffen with embarrassment, ready to swiftly untangle yourself from him with a groveling apology for taking away his sacred personal space. But when you look up at him, you notice that he too is asleep.

Selfishly, you took this time to admire him. His sharp jaw, the way his lips slightly parted with each exhale, the column of his throat. All the things you greedily gobbled up in short, quick glances were now on full display for your glutinous gaze. He was so pretty, carved straight from your dreams; mind, body, and soul.

You didn't dare reach up and tuck that stray strand of hair behind his ear, didn't dare move to trace his lips with the pad of your fingers. You refused to risk the possibility of waking him up and having to awkwardly explain why you were ogling him like a love-sick puppy.

Your efforts were in vain as the jet shuddered and rocked some more, startling Spencer away with a snort. He looked around, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes with his free hand. Before he could look at you, you quickly close your eyes and pretend you were still asleep. Maybe if he thought you were asleep, he'd let you cling to him for just a while longer.

Instead of shoving you away or even waking you up, you heard his soft chuckle. It took so much effort to not open your eyes and search for the object of his amusement, but you remained strong, using your training to keep your face neutral. He didn't say anything for a long time and you thought he had fallen back asleep, but when his hand slipped across your cheek, you just about jolted upright and ruined everything.

He kept his palm there for a few seconds, just cradling your face where it rested on his shoulder. Spencer moved his thumb in small circles, tracing the curve of your cheek before moving lower to swipe across your lower lip.

Your heart was racing, beating erratically against your ribcage like it was demanding a way out. A few times you almost break the ruse, desperate to see what the hell his face looked like as he touched you so gently, but you had a feeling that if you opened your eyes now, he'd scramble away from you and hide. So you kept still, reveling in the fondness of which he touched you.

Spencer pulled your bottom lip down for a second and you felt a puff of air spread across your face. Softly, so quiet you almost couldn't hear it over the soft music now playing and the roar of the plane engine, you heard him groan. But before you could do anything with that information, his hand slipped into your hair and he pulled your earbud out.

Without the music, you could hear his movements more clearly. Rustling fabric, a zipper, and then more rustling fabric. Not to mention it felt like he was trying to wiggle away from you but keep you glued to him all at the same time. Then, with a gust of stale cabin air, you were tucked further into him and something warm was placed over your shoulders.

It hit you then when the unmistakable smell of Spencer enveloped you, that he had used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. As he settled into the seat, you felt him lie his cheek atop your head and intertwine your fingers with his.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You were jostled awake again by a gentle shake of your shoulder. At first, you didn't know where you were, your sleep so deep and relaxing that you forgot everything you had witnessed both on the case and in the darkness of the plane's cabin.

"Hey, we're back at Quantico." Spencer's voice was low and gravely like he too had just been rudely awoken.

You were still wrapped up in him, still clinging to his arm and tucked under his chin. The reality of the situation hadn't hit yet, your brain was still addled with sleep as you nuzzled deeper into his warmth. "Hmm?"

"Come on, sleepy head, let's get you home."

You shoot up, now aware of your predicament and how embarrassing you must look. Refusing to meet his eye, you gently extract yourself from his side and stand up on wobbly legs. "Oh, my god. I'm so sorry Spence..."

Spencer stood too, stretching his arms high above his head, and chuckled. "It's no big deal, really. I-" He paused, straightening his shirt and ducking his head down to meet your downcast eyes. "I quite enjoyed it."

This had you looking up at him, the memory of the previous night flooding your mind and you felt yourself glow from how bright and hot your blush ran. "I, um..." You didn't know what to say, pinned by his intense gaze and bright smile.

Instead of saying anything else, he takes your bag off the floor, shoulders it, and grabs your hand. He leads you out of the plan, through the building, and to the street before hailing a cab. It wasn't until you were watching him stand there, a look of longing spreading across his face as his eyes trailed after the departing cab, that you realized you were still wearing his coat.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #oneshot #fluff #tension #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #no use of y/n

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brute1234 · 2 days ago

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EPIC THE MUSICAL with the steel chair. past week's music choice has just been the musical and I wanted to play around with some of the characters from my personal favorite songs, so we have Odysseus, Hermes, and Tiresias WHO IS MY FAVOURITE GODS I LOVE EM.

I'm gonna go into some detail with their design compositions CAUSE CAN YOU CANT STOP ME. Ody and Tiresias's silhouettes are more contained in their cloaks since they're more controlled personality-wise, with Ody's being rougher at the end. ALSO I like to think the shadow over Ody's eyes covers more of his face throughout the songs- he starts struggling to recognize himself with all the death etc. etc. on his way home cause that's fun asf. Hermes's head wings are part of his helmet, and they fold down into like the cheek covers of traditional Greek helmets when he's battling and such. ALSO Tiresias's staff has those three energy things, the first and last signify the past and future which he can see. and the middle ones blacked out, cause he cant see the present.

HEHSHD I'm crazy I'm crazy I love them I'm thinking about doing all the gods from the Gods Games but who knows its up in the air.

#epic the musical #epic tiresias #epic hermes #epic odysseus #epic the musical fanart #sillies HAHADAA #guys genuinely I havent stopped thinking about them #its been weeks #im in hell slash not hell slash hell #tiresias

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dragon-spaghetti · 10 months ago

Note

Can we see more Bella? 🥺👉👈

The Fuckin Thang

#drag replies #bella the yorkie #literally no matter what we do she looks like a mop 😭😭😭#the first three are from throughout the week #the last one was taken 2 minutes ago lmfao #yes yes if you look at the ipad you can see a lot of Val 💀#tracing over official stuff to try and figure out his shapes

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anaalnathrakhs · 2 months ago

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no really there is a special kind of academic grief when your classes are fascinating, they present interesting challenges, your homework is stimulating, fun to do, and you feel good when you get it done, your classmates are kind and fun and have so much interesting shit to say.

but you're wayyy busy spending your time 50% trying to be the best potted plant your parents have ever owned 50% blasting your brain with endless stimulation lest you start crying and hitting yourself because you had an unpleasant thought.

#ngl it was extremely hard in the first few weeks like socially and regarding the working environment #(2000 students in a building that's Not That Big is awful i wanted to rip my ears off)#but i deeply miss having FUN during exams #listen. is it fun to be at 8am sharp in the exam hall? no.#was it a fun feeling last year to hang the whole trajectory of my life and education on 5 exams? no.#but they were fun i was having a good time i really liked constructing my point throughout the paper #i'm dogshit at it but it doesn't matter the point was that i was having fun and practicing and improving #now i work half an hour out of four being extremely slow at making the worst plan i've ever made in my life #and then the lethargy takes me and i sleep standing straight in my chair the whole three hours that i have left #awful #the whole point of picking a cursus with a lot of classes and a lot of homework was to escape my parents #that since they value academics and my dad went to the same cursus when he was young therefore they'd know it takes a lot of work #that they'd leave me alone and they wouldn't keep feeding into the fucking compulsions or whatever the fuck they are #but NO no again it's clear that no matter how much time i spend with them how much i center my whole life around them and their routine #it's never enough it's never enough to earn myself some peace #their way is the objective Good and Comfortable way to live and deviating from it must mean i'm wicked and sad and i'm failing and them too #no matter how clear i have tried my best to be on the many occasions i've told them THIS IS SOMETHING I DON'T LIKE AND DO FOR YOUR SAKE #i was more independant when i was younger and everybody told me it was wrong it was weird i was just a wittle baby who needed mommy #i didn't earn this independance #now i'm trying my best to please them and comply with what they want. except what they tell me they want they don't want apparently.#and it doesn't earn me any independance either #broadcasting my misery #vent

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hardygalwrites · 2 years ago

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Originally posted to FFN on the 17th of July, 2017

Simply archiving a writing challenge I did back in 2016 up to 2017 and featuring my favourite writing pieces from each week of the challenge here on Tumblr :]

← Week 48 (BB) – Week 50 (Misc.) →

Cartoon: Transformers Prime / Robots in Disguise 2015

Characters: Smokescreen, Knock Out, and Bumblebee, with appearances from numerous other characters (even ones not featured in the cartoons)

Synopsis: An Autobot Elite Guard rookie, a Decepticon medic turned Autobot, and an Autobot scout turned warrior turned street cop - three very different bots with a wide range of stories to tell. And we are going to spend the next year exploring said stories through daily-written drabbles, be they angsty, humorous, gut-punching, or just plain odd! Who doesn’t love a challenge? (2016 to 2017)

—

I Stand by My Actions

Prowl and that other bot were shouting at each other now.

Tensions had already been high when the other bot accused Prowl of going against orders. The accusation surprised Smokescreen, and the sparkling was prepared to defend his guardian, but it was then Prowl had Smokescreen leave the room. Once outside, however, the sparkling pressed his audial receptor against the door and continued listening in.

Smokescreen heard Prowl slam a servo on his desk. "If you must punish me, then fine! I would do no less! But I believe that what I did was right, and I continue to stand by my actions."

Careful Who You Mess With

As Knock Out examined the patient, the latter made it clear exactly how he felt about Knock Out's position as a medic.

Eventually, the patient shoved Knock Out away, snapping, "D'you even know what you're doing, nurse?"

Before Knock Out could snarl a retort, his mentor stepped in. "Of course he does. Looks like this requires a longitudinal incision. Bring out the buzzsaws, kid."

The patient instantly backed down.

"Yeah, just remember, pal," Knock Out's mentor warned. "Your life's in our servos, and with an attitude like that, your spark's in as much danger in the medbay as it is on the battlefield."

Because Optimism Drives 'em Crazy

"Woah!" Bumblebee exclaimed. The sparkling stared up at his guardian with awe-filled optics. "That's gotta be your coolest story yet, 'Hide!"

"You may have 'Bee impressed," Sideswipe scoffed. "But I've heard too many of your stories, 'Hide. And seriously, you're way too happy for a bot who nearly lost his entire lower body."

Ironhide chuckled, downing another shot of high-grade. "Kid, there's a lotta things other bots can take from me - my home, my freedom, my slaggin' body parts... But my ability to get back up and keep on truckin' with a smile that'd drive Megatron mad? Heh, that ain't one of 'em."

But I CAN Outrun You

Despite Smokescreen's serpentine driving pattern, a plasma bolt hit him in the side, sending him flying. Smokescreen transformed and landed on his back with a crash. Before he could get up, a large servo clamped down on his chestplates and pulled him up until he was face to face with a living Decepticon sigil.

"Okay..." Smokescreen grunted as his chestplates bent under the pressure. "Maybe not my best escape. How's about we call that the warm-up round?"

Tarn laughed. "You're funny, Autobot. I might even consider a quick death if you answer our next question - where can we find Doctor Knock Out?"

The Only Way He Knows How

"I thought the end of the War also signaled the end of potentially being blown up," Knock Out grumbled as he welded the hole in his colleague's side.

Red Alert laughed shortly, then winced. "I thought you'd be happy, seeing as you were nearly rid of me."

"Happy?" Knock Out exclaimed with mock offense. "I've only just begun to tolerate you and learn your habits and integrate you into my routine. If a mine were to succeed in blowing you up, your absence would be felt, and I would find it incredibly inconvenient."

Red Alert raised an optic ridge and smiled a little.

No Time To Panic

Sideswipe's optics widened. "Oh. Oh, scrap. Oh, slag. That's a lot of energon."

Bumblebee quickly re-covered the wound in his abdomen, gasping. "Yeah."

"Wh- What can I do?"

"Call for backup," Bumblebee snapped.

Sideswipe jumped to it, sending a comm. message to Strongarm and Grimlock. Bumblebee instantly regretted his snapping at Sideswipe - it was clear the younger bot wasn't used to seeing this much spilt energon. But pain did tend to dull Bumblebee's patience. Actually, a lot of things were starting to dull right now...

Bumblebee groaned as his internal warning system drew attention to his rapidly depleting energon levels. "Not good..."

What Goes Around

The trip back to Cybertron was uneventful, if rather lonely. When he arrived, Smokescreen considered maybe getting in touch with the rest of the old team - it had been nice seeing Bumblebee again, and Smokescreen honestly missed (most of) them.

The ship powered down, and Smokescreen stepped out.

He found himself surrounded by a crowd of bots, each of them with their weapons drawn and aimed at him. One of them ordered him to surrender in the name of the Cybertronian Council.

"Oh, scrap..."

He should've expected this. It was too late now, though. Sighing, Smokescreen raised his servos in surrender.

#posting from THE ARCHIVES #365 drabbles challenge #okay look this is where i started writing drabbles focusing on all three of them within a single week instead of alternating every 4 weeks #with that in mind im only gonna tag the three main bois ^-^'#anyway this is the first and only week of drabbles in which i can genuinely say i still love every single drabble...!#fun fact: the first three drabbles here were deliberately written to focus a tad bit more on their respective guardians/mentors #the last drabble here was the last in a series of drabbles i wrote throughout the challenge ending the saga in a bit of a cliffhanger lol #i have considered turning said series of drabbles into a properly written fanfiction #smokescreen #tfp smokescreen #bumblebee #tfp bumblebee #knock out #tfp knock out #transformers #transformers prime #fanfiction #transformers fanfiction #HardyGal writes stuff #HardyGal writes fanfiction

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tteokdoroki · 3 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent.

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself.

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was.

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too.

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne.

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you.

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon.

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned.

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be.

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you — you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom.

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair.

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free.

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care.

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met.

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily.

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him.

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base.

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds.

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form.

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat.

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you.

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness.

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there.

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls.

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss.

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard. “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him.

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features.

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake?

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display.

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for?

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince.

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.”

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give.

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.”

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling.

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour.

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back.

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit.

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact.

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through.

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other.

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon. “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.”

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit.

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.”

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt.

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!” strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too.

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi smut #bllk thirst #tteokdoroki #blue lock thirst #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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finelinefae · 4 months ago

Text

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things.

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket.

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go.

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week.

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe.

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people.

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything.

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’.

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket.

She read his bio beneath.

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it.

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words.

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric.

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :)

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message.

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it.

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay?

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay.

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end.

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really?

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something.

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !!

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi

. . .

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering.

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did.

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure.

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving.

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?”

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company.

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people.

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi.

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head.

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office.

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about.

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath.

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office.

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?”

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?”

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card.

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds.

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car.

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring.

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally.

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.”

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped.

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel.

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy.

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did.

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered.

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean.

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went.

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door.

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?”

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.”

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto.

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy.

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers.

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him.

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone. But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . .

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled.

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb.

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

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ozzgin · 7 months ago

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I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster x human #forest monster #yandere imagines #monster imagine #monster romance #monster boyfriend #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

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bbyseok · 2 months ago

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thinking about teen satosugu who miss you a lot when you go on long missions.

it’s kinda funny, actually, how the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers act in your absence. unfortunately, solo missions aren’t uncommon for the three of you, and long missions are especially dreadful.

especially when you are the one assigned to go on the long mission by yourself.

the two are subtly closer on the days before you have to leave. whether you notice it or not, you don’t comment on the amount of times gojo has thrown an arm over your shoulders or how often your fingers brush against geto’s since he’s standing so close.

and when you finally depart from jujutsu high, you bet they’re blowing up your phone with random texts of asking about your wellbeing, how the mission was going, etc.

back in the quarters of the school, gojo and geto are miserable. don’t get me wrong, on the first couple of days they’re fine. but come around the third or fourth day without you there, they resort to borrowing your things.

so what if gojo has one of your shirts? he just forgot to do his laundry. and maybe geto took a bottle of your shampoo. he coincidentally ran out of his!

but on one particular solo mission, you’re gone for two weeks. that’s the longest they’ve ever went without seeing you—shoko, their junior classmates, and even yaga himself, were starting to get concerned for them.

by the end of the first week they’re convinced that gojo is going to start firing off blues left ‘n right, and geto might summon the rainbow dragon at every little inconvenience.

one night, the lack of you gets so unbearable that gojo finds himself tiptoeing down the halls, his feet leading him to your dorm.

when he opens it, he’s greeted with the sight of suguru already inside, frozen as he looks at satoru like a deer in headlights.

“satoru?”

“suguru?”

gojo blinks owlishly, confused. geto looks to be in a similar state as him, restless like he couldn’t sleep. “what are you doing in their room?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” suguru shoots back.

“…i forgot something.”

a blatant lie, and they both know it.

when suguru gives him a pointed, unconvinced look, satoru holds his hands up with a sigh, “okay, fine, fine. i was..”

“missing them?” suguru fills in, his head tilting and bangs falling over his eyes messily, and satoru has the strong urge to brush them to the side.

instead, he nods and closes the door behind him. as if in silent agreement, they both approach your dorm bed. they share a knowing glance before climbing in.

it’s a hilarious struggle at first—they’re unbelievably tall and the dorm beds aren’t built to hold two muscular teenagers over six feet.

“move.”

“no, you move, my arm was there first.”

“you’re going to elbow me!”

“don’t make me kick you off the bed!”

it doesn’t matter, ‘cause eventually they end up cuddling some time throughout the night, whether it was intentional or not. a warm bundle of entangled limbs with your scent clinging onto the blanket and pillows.

and it then becomes a routine with you gone. they meet in your dorm during the dead of night to seek comfort in each other and your things—mainly your bed.

when you finally return from your mission, they’re back to normal if anything, praising your efforts and welcoming you back to jujutsu high like they didn’t spend most of the time wallowing after your departure.

so when you’re assigned another solo mission, just imagine your surprise when you return early for once, only to find the pair of boys snuggling underneath your blanket.

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cathkaesque · 10 months ago

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Relentless direct action has secured another victory in the fight against Israel’s arms trade, as Elbit Systems are forced to sell their ‘Elite KL’ factory in Tamworth.

The company had previously manufactured cooling and power management systems for military vehicles, but was sold on after stating that it faced falling profits and increased security costs resulting from Palestine Action’s efforts.

After the sale was completed last month, Elite KL’s new owners, listed as Griffin Newco Ltd, confirmed in an email to Palestine Action that they will have nothing to do with the previous owners, Elbit, and have discontinued any arms manufacturing:

“Following the recent acquisition of Elite KL Limited by a UK investment syndicate, the newly appointed board has unanimously agreed to withdraw from all future defence contracts and terminate its association with its former parent company”.

This victory is a direct result of sustained direct action which has sought, throughout Palestine Action’s existence, to make it impossible for Elbit to afford to operate in Britain. Before they sold the enterprise to a private equity syndicate, Elbit had reported that Elite KL operating profits had been slashed by over three-quarters, with Palestine Action responsible: Elbit directly cited the increased expenditure on security they’d been forced to make, and higher supply chain costs they faced.

And these actions did, indeed, cost them. The first action at the site, in November 2020, saw Elite KL’s premises smashed into, the building covered in blood-red paint. Between March and July 2021, the site was put out of action three times by roof-top occupations – drenched red in March 2021, with the factory’s camera systems dismantled, before again being occupied in in May. Another roof-top occupation in July, despite increased security, saw the site forced closed – once again painted blood-red, and with its windows and fixings smashed through.

In February 2022, activists decommissioned the site for weeks – closed off after an occupation that saw over £250,000 of damages caused, the roof tiles removed one-by-one. After this, Elbit erected a security perimeter around the site – but to no avail. One month later, six were arrested after Palestine Action returned to Tamworth – again taking the roof and smashing through, preventing the production of parts for Israel’s military machine.

Elite KL is a ‘specialist thermal management business’. Since the sale, the company focuses on cooling systems for buses and trains, but it had, under Elbit, manufactured these systems for military vehicles. Until December of last year, Elite KL’s website was advertising its military and defence products, and it was known to provide parts for Israel’s deadly Merkava tanks, with export license records demonstrating its provision of ‘ML6a’ components for military ground vehicles to Israel. The company was also known to manufacture crew cooling systems, for the military vests of tank operators.

Elbit Systems itself provides 85% of the drones and land-based military equipment for the Israeli military, along with a wide range of the munitions and armaments currently being used against Gaza’s beseiged population. Its CEO, Bazhalel Machlis, has claimed that the Israeli military has offered the company its thanks for their “crucial” services during the ongoing genocide in Gaza

A Palestine Action spokesperson has stated:

“Each activist who occupied and dismantled Tamworth’s Israeli weapons factory did so in order to bring an end to Israel’s weapons trade, and to end the profiteering from Palestinian repression. Every defeat Elbit faces is a victory for the Palestinian people.

Kicking Elbit out of Tamworth shows once again that direct action is a necessary tactic. It is one which must be utilised and amplified in the face of the Gaza genocide.”

#socialism #palestine #palestine action #elbit systems

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derpy-dogs-n-cats · 11 months ago

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Dealing With A Marechi S/O On Her Period.

Main Masterlist

KNY Masterlist

Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Blood, smut, sexual themes, oral sex; female receiving, oral sex during period, face sitting, mentions about fingering, drinking blood, eating human flesh.

Summary: Headcanons on the upper three and Muzan helping a marechi s/o through her period while keeping their stomachs full.

W/C: 2.5k+

In the time you’d been together, he had yet to smell your blood, it was hard enough to be placed in the situation when he always made sure you weren’t injured whenever he was around, and as such a high-ranking demon, he lacked the privilege to spend as much time with you as wanted, so the timings hadn’t lined properly for him to be present during your period either, but when they finally did without you being aware of your unique type of blood, to say the least, neither of you were ready.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Takes full advantage of the situation.

Has to take a step back to steady himself the first time he smells you.

Is initially worried you’re injured at first.

Plays his cards right and shows initial concern despite your body doing a normal biological function.

Is more physically affectionate to get you to lower your guard even more.

Gets you to admit out loud that you’re in physical pain.

Suggests helping you ease the pain.

Had never buried his face between your legs before.

Was actually kind of sexist about it and would’ve felt inferior if he placed your legs on either side of his head, because why would the demon king do that?

Still tried to refuse but smelling your marechi blood didn’t help.

Having a monthly supply of marechi blood sounded tempting enough.

So he suggests easing your pain.

Surprises you by finally spreading your legs after laying between them.

Keeps you around him for the entirety of the week.

Takes you wherever he needs to go to keep you close.

But never near any demons.

If necessary, he has Kokushibo watch over you.

Doesn’t necessarily refuse to not have you in his presence.

But refuses to leave you alone and unguarded for other demons to try and eat you.

Knows that Kokushibo won’t even consider so much as laying a finger at you.

Still refuses to get on his knees for you.

You always have to lay down for him.

Forbids you from wearing anything under your kimono to have easier access.

Instantly smells whenever your blood’s about to stain the expensive fabric of your kimono.

Licks you clean every time he smells you starting to bleed.

Which is multiple times throughout the day.

As soon as you express being relieved from the pain, he uses it as an excuse.

Prefers you thinking he genuinely and solely wants to care for his favorite human rather than admitting that he needs to feed like any living creature.

Because he refuses to so much as get on his knees for you, he obviously even more so refuses to have you sit on his face.

Not even hover.

If you ever suggest it, he’ll give you the meanest side eye and refuse to speak to you for days.

Still will not eat you out outside of your period.

The moans entering Muzan’s ears easily sounded different than usual, similar to the first time he had you take his heavy cock in your lower area, where he was currently lapping at you for the first time with half lidded eyes in a relaxed expression while laying on his stomach for you, hands on either of your thighs which obediently remained spread open for him with ease due to how the rest of your body had fallen limp upon the first lick.

He had his doubts at first, but he had to admit, it’s awfully convenient to have a marechi lover who was so willing to hike up the expensive kimono and spread open the legs beneath it to allow him to feed rather than having to go through the trouble of going out of his way for people to eat. A louder moan fills the room as he dips his tongue inside your sensitive opening after having licked clean your labia.

A shaky hand reaches for his hair in attempt to pull him closer only to be pushed away rather gently by the man at your thighs. Normally, he would’ve slapped away the hand because despite actually bearing affection for you, how dare you try to command him in any way, however, he supposes the meal you’re offering him is enough for him to turn a blind eye to your insolence… once.

Kokushibo

Very concerned for your health when he finds out.

Initially thinks you’re injured upon smelling your blood for the first time.

Takes a second (one too long in his opinion) to regain his composure after the scent of your blood makes him feel dizzy.

The opposite of Muzan.

Has eaten you out before.

And doesn’t mind doing it.

Genuinely suggests relieving your pain for your benefit.

Takes great pride in taking care of you.

Hardly even thinks of you as a source of food with how much he prioritizes easing your pain.

But does acknowledge that you’re keeping him well fed.

Another one that keeps you with him every time you’re on your period (they all do).

Doesn’t think much about if he likes or not getting on his knees for you.

But knows your height differences would make it a bit uncomfortable.

And prefers you lay down for your own comfort.

Will also eat you out whenever he smells blood on the way.

Enjoys doing so but does it mainly for your safety as to not attract any demons.

Doesn’t just drink your blood but also plays with your clit to actively give you orgasms to counter your cramps.

Gently rubs your lower stomach to further help with your cramps.

Or grazes it very lightly with his fingertips to give you goosebumps if he’s in a teasing mood.

Slows the pace after each orgasm as to not overstimulate you before picking it up again.

Overall treats you like a porcelain doll.

Would give you a break if you asked.

Even if you’re still bleeding

So long as you’re always close to him so he can keep you safe.

Soft gentle tugs to your clit force heavy breaths out through your nose, the occasional pinch making you clench around the soft pink tongue moving along your insides with your back tensing and arching off the futon briefly before a hand gently pushes down your stomach to press you back against the fabric beneath you in attempt to get you to relax, the tongue carefully moving back and forth as to not overwhelm your sensitive insides.

His eyes peek open when he feels your legs starting to tremble on either side of his face, the hand over your lower stomach carefully rubbing over the skin doing little to soothe you, his first pair of eyes looking at you due to your different than usual movements, unable to read any expression from your head being thrown back. “Are you alri-” He’s interrupted by your body falling limp against him and the unmistakable noise of you hitting your orgasm.

He’s quick to react and have his fingers gently rub at your clit, slowly licking over your leaking opening, his reasoning settling on your different reactions being from your current sensitive state. His eyes fall back shut again without his own hands failing to continue their ministrations, set on taking care of you and making sure you’re carefully brought back down from your own high as to not overstimulate you while you let him eat his fill.

Douma

Doesn’t even occur to him that you might be injured.

Knows that he would’ve been notified if you’d been injured.

Also takes full advantage of the situation.

Absolutely delighted to find out you’re a marechi.

He’s been surrounded by plenty women before and has eaten enough to know what a period is obviously.

As well as eaten marechi women before.

But has never stumbled upon a marechi woman on her period.

Is baffled that it never occurred to him to keep a marechi woman by his side for a monthly supply.

Immediately asks to feed off of you rather than asking to help with your cramps.

Used to have you on him 97% of times, now it’s 100%.

Eats you out wherever, whenever and however.

Very vocal about it.

Constant praises on your taste.

Gets actually hungry while tasting you.

But remembers that you’re a fragile human who he genuinely enjoys having around and therefore would rather not hurt you.

So he treats you as an appetizer instead.

And proceeds to eat one of the other women around after you’ve stopped bleeding.

Keeps you on him under every circumstance.

Even if Muzan calls him over.

Promises to do as Muzan says and be on his best behavior which he actually fulfills much to Muzan’s surprise.

If you were to actually be apart from him, he would ask in all seriousness for you to save your blood for him for later in a jar.

Another one who would forbid you from wearing anything under your kimono.

Probably forbids you from doing so even when you aren’t on your period.

Doesn’t even warn you when he smells you starting to bleed and immediately goes under your kimono.

If there’s anyone nearby when you start bleeding, immediately orders them to leave.

For your sake.

If it were up to him, he’d bury his face between your legs right then and there.

Messy eater.

Will definitely take you on his beanbag.

Will treat your period (as well as your fucking sessions) like some type of bingo or a list that needs to have locations where he’s taken you crossed off.

You feel yourself sink further into the large pillow beneath you with your legs kept hiked to your chest, loud continuous moans coming from the blonde between said legs, the incessant noises coming from him having won long ago against your own. A slight shift of your body moves your untied kimono further open with it finally slipping off your breasts and exposing your nipples to the cold air, the elegant fabric bunching around your torso between the folds of the pillow.

“Ohh, you taste just heavenly my darling.” Douma smiles after lifting his head from your bloodied messy folds, letting you take in the sight of his chin drenched in your blood, fluids starting to trickle down to his neck followed by his tongue swiping across it. “Now sit pretty for me and let me eat…” He coaxes in a low tone while slowly lowering himself, continuing to delve his tongue into your opening.

While a knot started to form in the pit of your stomach, the hollow filling in the pit of Douma’s own stomach started to grow, tempting him with having more than just a taste of your blood, but he couldn’t, he’d never forgive himself. He shuts down his thoughts and instead licks you with more vigor, his mind wandering to other women who he’d much rather eat before you, maybe the one who’d been just slightly less polite than usual when attending you, maybe she’d be able to satiate his hunger for a while.

Akaza

Is terrified when he smells your blood for the first time.

Especially when he notices what type of blood it is.

Immediately assumes the worst.

Thanks whatever higher power there is when he sees you’re fine.

Gets headaches from trying to keep himself in control.

And still refuses to leave you alone.

Absolutely would never under any circumstances let Douma get remotely near you regardless of whatever situation you’re in.

Would never suggest eating you out to relieve the pain because he doesn’t want you to think he’s using you for food

But wouldn’t blatantly tell you no if you asked.

Would need a lot of convincing to say yes.

Would be really worried because what if he accidentally hurts you.

Is also worried that what if he genuinely gets hungry while trying to make you feel better.

Would be very hesitant due to his rule against eating women.

But tries to convince himself it’s alright because he’s not actually eating you.

Because he secretly is very curious and tempted to try it out.

Finally says yes when your cramps get unbearable.

Absolutely loses it upon his first taste.

Would already eat you out regularly for his own pleasure.

But would do it with dignity composure.

Now gets overly pussy drunk.

Doesn’t stop even after you’re clean.

Just continues while waiting for the next wave of blood.

Eats you out like a starved animal when you’re on your period.

Another messy eater.

Doesn’t leave your side for your safety.

And your mutual pleasure.

Would enjoy you sitting on his face.

But fails to notice how he refuses to let you leave your seat once you’ve sat.

Despite eating you out mostly for his own pleasure, doesn’t forget yours and uses his fingers to give you as many orgasms as he can as a thanks for keeping him fed.

Has no shame in licking his fingers clean in front of you.

Makes sure to still give you plenty of head regularly after your period so you don’t feel like he just sees you as food.

Would wonder in the back of his head if your blood alone can make him strong enough to surpass the other upper ranks.

Would be damned if Douma found out what he’s doing.

“Are you su-” “Yes.” Akaza’s quick to respond, trying to hold himself back from yanking you down, instead, gently guiding you lower to take a seat on his face. It’d been a few cycles since he finally started eating you out during your period and in that time, he’d grown addicted, though that would be an understatement. And though he still much enjoyed spending his days face buried between your legs even outside your cycle, during was something far preferable.

In the last few times he’d helped you through your difficult time of the month, he started feeling as though it wasn’t enough, no, rather he wanted more, and so he suggested something new, something you’d never know if he’d thought about himself, seen somewhere or heard of. Once you feel your lower area come into contact with him a sigh escapes you with his tongue starting to move along you, pressing over your clit, licking between your folds, circling your opening and licking clean every crevice.

He continues to suffocate himself in the intoxicating smell of your blood and decides it still isn’t enough, not with you hovering. A yelp leaves your mouth at the sudden yank of your legs being pulled upward folded against each other by a pair of strong hands with you falling completely sat on Akaza’s face, a muffled moan heard from under you pulling your gaze toward him, taking in the expression of his eyes rolled to the back of his head while his tongue invaded your insides, refusing to stop tasting you.

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