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#Café Bizarre
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Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.
The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 
The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:
“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”
There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.
Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?
The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.
You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.
And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.
At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.
Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.
The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.
Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.
An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.
When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.
Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.
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How the iudex sleeps
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Unexpectedly enough Fontaine started wondering how the great judge is productive enough to do all his work and some bizarre ideas start pooping up until the iudex himself says his 'secrets'
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Read also: otters sleep holding hands and with their babies on their bellies and I found that incredibly sweet
WC: 1,3K
Cw: gn reader, you both have a baby but it isn't specified if he is biologically related or adopted
‘The chief of justice is a busy person’ is a known fact amongst the citizens of Fontaine, who see him working through many cases plus uncountable quantities of paperwork. That led to a question for some people ‘how does he get enough energy for the day’ at first the common guess was coffee but they were told off by an angry melusine.
“Huff! As if monsieur Neuville would ever drink such things! Only weird humans can drink something that bitter”
That quickly shut down that possibility and led them back to the board of ideas. About that time reporters started to notice how many people seemed interested in maximizing their energy and being awake for longer, while they aren't life changing or particularly interesting sections, some weeks are remarkably unremarkable and anything is better than nothing.
Now every week there would be a few merchants promoting tonics, pallets and pills that enhance energy, even when they would find ways to waltz around trying to mention the judge in their advertisements.
‘Lawfully energetic’
‘as fierce as a dragon’
‘enough to stand 100 trials’
Even if the last one was almost enough for the mermonia palace to get involved for using Neuvillette's name it was vague enough that it got off the hook.
Usually Furina’s crew would be able to rehearse two scenes before tea time but for some reason it was already 2 pm and they were still rehearsing the beginning of the play.
“ I'm sorry, Ms. Furina, I just can't connect two ideas together today” the female lead says as she grabs her head, sighing deeply. Furina touches her back and before she can ask about it someone shares a thought to the air.
“ Oh! Have you tried nilotpala lotus tea? It seems to stimulate the nervous system and clear up brain fog. Maybe the iudex uses that” the man who was supposed to be practicing the piano to match the scene says with a slight poison over his words.
“ Isn't brain fog rich coming from you?” Furina yaps at him “ your tempo was off the whole day” as she looks over his shoulder and rather than seeing a music sheet she finds the newest issue of steambird “what are you even reading? Focus on the piano! We have a show next week!”
She quickly grabs the paper and starts reading the small column with advertisements and tricks, huffing at the idea “stop reading those newspapers and keep rehearsing! The magic fix you are looking for is simply a good night sleeps, like the iudex you are stalking for an answer” she sighs loudly before looking at her crew.
“Is that all?”
“Simply a good night's sleep. What else were you expecting? An extract with 10 times more caffeine than a cup or liyue acupuncture?” She looks at her crew and finds some of them nodding and others seemingly disappointed “now, a break or can we start from the top?”
Unsurprising enough, very few people believed what she claimed, most likely wishing for a strange concoction that can make up for bad habits. Even then a few girls believed it to be rational enough of an answer, seemingly even one of them must have said furina knew his whole nighttime routine causing a hoard of reporters to crowd her door asking senseless questions.
‘Does he use sleep mists?’
‘What kind of fabric are his sheets?”
‘What does he eat before bed? Does he drink water?’
After being stalked everywhere from her home to the supermarket or the café she started dressing up in disguise to escape, luckily a few days after she noticed the quantity of reporters went down and only one came knocking on her door asking about the rescheduling of her play.
“ Oh, yes, we had to reschedule as there was an ‘important trial’ that had to be dealt with urgently. A representative of the palais mermonia apologized for the inconveniences but in the end the most important thing is justice!” furina says with her characteristic theatrical flare. Now looking at the reporter scribbling things on his notebook she adds a bit “the new date will be in two weeks, if someone presents the special meet and greet tickets with the old date they will still be valid”
As he finishes writing he goes off to write the article “thanks miss!”
Now standing on the doorway to the rehearsal room, Furina was expecting the usual sleepy greetings or the usual chitchatter or gossiping but, unusually enough, the whole room was silent and her whole crew was hunched over a spot, their backs facing her.
Clearing her throat she greets them first but they still don't react “ morning? Guys? Are you all okay?” she rounds them trying to get their attention until one of them catches sight of her.
“Director! Look! Monsieur Neuvillette told his secret to the newspapers!” He grabs the yellow paper and holds it to her face, a big bold font meeting her eyes.
CASE MELUSINE AND OTHER QUESTIONS WITH THE IUDEX: PAST CASES TO HIS GREATEST SECRET
‘Greatest secret?’ Furina thinks for a second ‘did he already publicly state to be the hydro dragon? Doesn't seem like it’ but she quickly smiles at her co actor “So? What is his secret?”
But all her crew look at her with a questioning glare “ what we have been wondering all this time? Who would have guessed our director was right!”
“What is that even supposed to mean?!”
Charlotte looks at the pages full questions she prepared for her so desired meeting, who knew that after so long wishing for it she would truly get a chance to interview the iudex, even if half the questions she prepared couldn't be answered for privacy or because the cases weren't closed she got enough material to fill a good pair of pages. Even then she couldn't lose this opportunity and started asking the ‘dumber’ or sillier questions
Looming over one particular line she wonders, would the judge consider it rude for her to ask that given he was giving her his important time but she simply swallows and asks
“How are you able to work through so much work?”
“My apologies?” Neuvillette furrows his brows and looks confused “I don't think I quite understand what you mean”
Charlotte breathes in deeply before elaborating “People have been wondering how you have enough energy to do all the work you are able to do”
Neuvillette stays silent for a second with his eyes closed
“It's known the iudex doesn't talk about his private life, so if you don't want to answer-”
“ It's not that” Neuvillette reassures her calmly “it wasn't a question I was expecting, that is all” he crosses his legs and details as Charlotte writes
But regardless of how many tries we have thrown to the ceiling we all were wrong, the way our judge is able to power through the day is simple actually, a comfortable bed and his beloved family. Even if he refused to expand on information about his family he did speak more about his routine.
“I'm unsure why people care so much suddenly but it's very simple, really, I always sleep with my lover in bed and keep our child on my chest” even as Charlotte choked on her own spit at a sudden juicy revelation neuvillette barely glanced over the rim of his goblet “we are also rather particular about bedding, but for now we settled on silk flower sheets made I'm liyue”
As he drinks water a small smile creeps up his lips, remembering that very morning vividly, his fingers firmly entangled with yours, almost as if he fears you would leave and meet a cold spot when he wakes up, even when you are practically hugging his side. Or your young baby peeking his head out of his father's sleeping shirt and feeling the soft beating of his heart with a pleased face.
Hm, he is sure that is why he always wakes up with enough energy to power through his duties .
Opening his eyes he finds Charlotte with small tears on her lashes and muttering ‘how sweet’.
“ So about your son…?”
“No”
“Understood”
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ofallthingsnasty · 1 year
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capture kill
Pairing: M!Werewolf x F!Reader x M!Werewolf Tags:  teratophilia, yandere, dead dove: do not eat, noncon, abduction, (attempted) forced impregnation, creampies, chubby reader Word count: 3.8k Summary:  Two men are secretly fighting over you.
Unfortunately, you’re about to find out.
Note: This started out as some dialogue that popped into my head and it was a lot of fun to write out the dynamic between these two OCs! Please read the tags properly and enjoy. Requests are open!
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You smell before you feel.
The air is ripe with motor oil and wood, just like your family's little shack during summer evenings. An almost musky note lies underneath, mixed with something metallic, rusty - old equipment, maybe? It’s quiet, the only thing you can hear is your own breathing, deep and constant. There is the occasional creak from the boards, expanding and moving against each other in the heat. The wall you're propped up against is hard but warm from the sun - it’s not a comfortable position and the moment you realize it, a familiar ache settles itself in your lower back, clearly a sign that you’ve spent a long time sitting like this.
Did you fall asleep hiding behind one of the shelves with a book in hand, enjoying a lazy summer evening? 
It wouldn’t be the first time: The shack is the only place where you can truly be all by yourself - without any disruptions from your family, without anyone asking for you, without any chatter and the constant clatter of dishes or the static of the tv. You’ve always liked to hole up right here, seated on a cushion and with some snacks in hand. You’ve spent many quaint evenings like this, forgetting the world around you.
There is only one problem: You don't live anywhere near your parents' house anymore. 
And you’re pretty sure that you were just enjoying your favorite iced drink at the cozy little café around the corner. The thought shocks you from the very last bits of sleep.
It’s dim around you. You can barely make out the rest of your body while an unnatural drowsiness still clings to your eyes - it seems to sit right on top of your lids, weighing down on them like a ton of bricks. You feel so incredibly groggy, as though you’d die if you didn’t fall back asleep this second. A small part of you fights against the feeling - it’s too easy, you think, to just simply give up. Something is off, something terrible churns your stomach around nothing but air.
Rolling up your head, you blink at the ceiling. 
Green eyes peer back at you, big and apologetic. They're lined by silvery-white fur, between them a muzzle. Too high above you to be a dog, too broad. The thing is bipedal - more bear in body than canine, with disgustingly big paws that look like they could rip you limb from limb. It eyes you with something akin to curiosity, intelligence clear as day in its gaze.
You blink again, brain trying to catch up with your eyes.
And then it speaks. Awful, garbled words. “I’m so sorry, darling.”
You can’t help but scream.
Or at least you try to, because your mouth won’t open. Your lips are held together by something hard and sticky - duct tape, your mind numbly supplies as if it’s of dire importance.
The thing looks stunned - panicked, even, as far as you can tell from its eyes widening at your muffled protests and your head wildly swinging around.
“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry”, another voice cuts in, only making you thrash around harder. “We get it, you’re trying to save the romantic atmosphere or some shit.”
It comes from the corner of the shack, where a shadowy mass stands, postured leisurely against the wall. It is dark - but there is no doubt that it looks just like the wolf-man in front of you. You feel like you’re hallucinating. As if being abducted wasn’t something out of your worst nightmares already - these animals are so bizarre, your poor brain doesn’t know what to do with all of this information.
“Well, how do you expect me to go about it?”, the one in front of you hisses back, eyes not leaving you for a second.
“It definitely helped the whole fighting thing, dumbass”, the other thing snickers and the wolf-man growls at the mocking tone. “I told you we should have just done the deed when she was out cold.”
The sentence confirms all of your worst fears. You whimper against your makeshift gag, trying to suppress tears. The thing gives you what you think is supposed to be a sympathetic look but it only looks ghoulish on its canine face.
“That’s barbaric”, it says, voice thick with disgust. “Yeah, and this right here is the height of chivalry and romance”, the dark one chortles. “As always, you’re a fucking hoot.”
“Shut up.”
“Well- I’m sure, the missus would like an explanation. So quit yapping and do your little monologue, will you?” “Fuck you.”
It gives the other an irrated look and then takes a step forward. You flinch away from it, only to meet the wall behind you. An attempt at raising your hands in defense is foiled thick rope binding them together - you can only cower behind your forearms, fingers swiping, gripping wildly through the air with what you hope is enough to keep it at bay. The wolf-man looks almost sad at your motion but doesn’t back off - those giant paws wrap themselves around your shoulder with surprising gentleness as it crouches down, completely disregard your attempts at scratching it. The thing holds your gaze with big, sad eyes and takes a stuttering breath. It seems to want to say something but isn’t able to - and the fingers on your shoulder tighten themselves into the fabric of your shirt.
Then it says your name- and chokes up. “I can’t-”, it grits out. “I can’t say it-” “You’ve been preparing your shitty talk all the way up here, grow some fucking balls.”
It whines in response, the sound high and miserable. “She’s going to hate me for this.”
“Oh my god, shut up, Evan!”, the dark one snarls again. “She’s gonna hate you either way, believe me.” Evan. The name rings a faint bell even in your panic-ridden brain. Evan. The baker from your favorite little shop a few minutes down - who has the same green eyes to match this thing. A couple years younger than you and so very sweet like the pastries he bakes - you can hardly believe he is this monster. But clear as day, in front of your own two eyes, the wolf responds to his name and has his eyes - even his blond hair sort of matches its coat, if you squint. You thrash in Evan’s grasp, thoughts rushing through your head. You feel like you’re dreaming and dying at the same time - that thing can’t possibly be a human - and this situation can’t be real, either. It’s all too much, too fast. You’re starting to feel faint.
“I-”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself, cuck.” The other steps forward and you get a better look at him, even through the black and green spots that are sprinkled all over your vision - his dark fur is peppered with silvery streaks, his muzzle turning white from age. One of his canines is chipped and makes him look roughed up, makes him look scarier than he already is.
"You see, sweetheart - me and Evan over here are quite… interested in you. Tried to settle this issue for weeks. But then our alpha stepped in and came up with", he waves his paw around as if to show you something, "this."
"And now we're gonna fuck you and see which one knocks you up first, hm?"
You lose it. Whimpering against the duct tape, you throw your legs around, desperate to fight them off. Some animalistic part of your brain supplies you with the thought that just trying to scream no, no, no against your gag might make them spare you, might make them go away. But Evan doesn’t let up, he keeps his hands on you, heavy and warm.
"You scared her, fucking asshole!", he snarls, teeth bared and fur raised.
“She wasn't gonna like this either way, boy. Some woo-woo words and a little sap won't make her fall for you immediately.”
You thrash around helplessly, efforts futile against the monster holding you down.
"You had the chance to ask her out every damn day when she took her pretty little face to your shop. And didn’t you follow her home sometimes?”, the other one snickers, clearly delighted in picking on his mate.
It makes you stop dead in your tracks and you look at Evan with wide eyes, scared. 
The darker one laughs. “Would you look at that. Did I tattle?”
By now Evan’s claws are buried in your shoulder. It hurts, even through the cotton of your t-shirt. Not even your whimpered protest seems to reach him. He looks positively murderous. “See, loverboy over here isn’t as innocent as he’d like you to think. Nasty little creeper, that one.”
“Shut up, Bill-”, Evan grits out.
Bill. Such a mundane name for a monster like him. Unlike Evan, it doesn’t ring a bell - but you’re sure he is a local just like the young bakery worker.
“That's enough”, Bill says, voice suddenly full of authority. “You’re only making this worse for her, boy.” The paw on your shoulder trembles. “At least let me go first.” His voice is nothing more than a whimper now, more reminiscent of a sad child than a fully grown man grotesquely stretched into the body of a wolf. He sounds absolutely pathetic like this and you’d pity him in any other situation.
Bill laughs, deep and ugly. It’s an almost dry chuckle that gets gradually louder. The atmosphere shifts to something more dangerous, more serious - gone is the playful teasing, now it sounds like he’s ready to rip Evan’s throat out with his bared fangs.
“I am your elder. I get to go first.”
Evan doesn’t respond. He just stares at your lap with an indecipherable expression.
“You hear me, boy? Hugh said this was the way to settle things. Trying to question your alpha?” The threat in his voice is clear. Evan finally opens his mouth. “No.”
“Good. Very good.”
He finally lets go of your shoulder and steps aside. Bill doesn’t waste any more time - you’re grabbed by your ankled and roughly pulled onto floor, helplessly flailing your bound hands through the air. He’s on you almost immediately, caging your head in with two thick arms. You can only stare up at him with pleading eyes, trying to beg him to stop with your expression alone.
“Sh, princess”, he says, almost gentle. He bows his head down and nudges the crown of your head. “I can play nice with you, you know? I just don’t like that little cuck over there”
His words do little to calm you. 
Whimpering against the tape, you let tears spill freely. You just want to be home, in your bed - just anywhere but not here. “It’s okay”, he murmurs and licks them away with his rough tongue. “You’ll be fine. You’re a little fighter, I know you are.”
A growl sounds from the corner but Bill isn’t fazed. He caresses your face with one clawed finger and crinkles his eyes at you. It’s another attempt at a soothing gesture, another one that doesn’t work.
“Poor thing, hm? Let’s get this over with.”
You can barely cry in protest before he rips your shirt open with sheer force, digs his claws into the cotton like it’s butter. Your skin prickles with fear as he eyes you, soft form and all, like the finest cut of meat he’s ever seen. Gone is that almost-warm expression, that deceptively gentle touch. He’s back to his snickering, old self. “Cute bra, baby. Too bad it has to go.” And with that, Bill slashes the straps and rips the band away. Your torso is completely bare in a matter of seconds, leaving you to shiver on the rough wood, the scraps of your shirt barely shielding your back from the ground.
Evan groans from his place and the sound curdles your stomach. 
“Just ignore him, baby”, Bill says and bares his teeth into a ghoulish smile above you. “He’ll have his turn but I’m gonna knock you up and keep you.” With another rip of elastic and cotton, he frees you from your pants. The floor is cold against your skin and you already can feel the splinters that are about to bury themselves into you - but it’s nothing compared to the terror awaiting you. “A little uncomfortable?”, he hums above you. “Sorry about that, babe. Gonna have to do for now.” He stuffs his whole snout into your bush and groans. The feeling is alien, his muzzle warm and wet and you shudder with it. “You smell divine.”
When he pulls back, his dick is unsheathed, hard already. He palms himself while he stares down at you, dark eyes enraptured by your form. 
“You’re just-”, he grunts. “About the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen-”
He pinches the fat of your belly with a surprising gentleness, the sting tender. 
“Look at you, all soft and round. So perfect for me.”
He leans over and kisses and bites your neck, your shoulder, even your jaw - gently, which only freaks you out more. He really won’t stop, will fuck you in a matter of minutes and you can’t do anything about it. You know you aren’t ready to take him and he is definitely bigger than average in this form. The dread that blooms in your stomach feels like a punch to your gut. 
“Deep breaths, princess”, he rasps above you, able to read every single thought that flits through your head in your terror-filled eyes. “Nothing much you can do now.”
As sick as it is, it rings true somewhere deep in your panic-riddled brain. Bill shuffles around a little bit, without ever breaking eye contact. There is a warmth that touches your leg and you know exactly what it is - his cock rests heavy and hot on your skin. Slightly wet with pre-cum, it twitches between your thighs. You barely dare to peek down, not wanting to see what is about to happen.
“I’m gonna enjoy this.” Bill groans, buries his muzzle in your shoulder and pushes himself into you. He is incredibly thick and it burns. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve experienced before - raw fear for your life leaves you dry and clenched uncomfortably around his dick, making him snarl and hiss above you. You can feel your own tightness around him and fold your bound hands into nothing, fingernails digging themselves into your palms.
If only you had something to grasp, to make this more bearable. The only thing you can do now is grit your teeth and take it.
“Oh shit, princess”, he sighs, completely blissed out and without any regard for your pain. To your surprise, he bottoms out slowly and waits for you to adjust - or at least what he thinks adjusting is. You're still not ready when he finally starts fucking you in earnest, slow and deep. 
"Fuck-", Bill grits out directly into your ear, his voice muffled. "You got the perfect cunt, baby. So fucking- tight."
You pay little mind to his words, too focused on the steady push and pull, on the dry stab of his cock.
“Knew it when I first saw you that you'd be perfect for me. And I'm gonna-”, he moans obscenely loud as your cunt flutters around him. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my pups- just wait-” The thought of being pregnant with this monster’s child almost makes you weep. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, he groans, his pace picking up. “My cute little wife. That’s what you’ll be, princess.” The sentence earns him another threatening growl from Evan. He only laughs in response, deep and unspeakably ugly. “Yeah, you’ll be perfect-”, his hips crash into yours as he fucks you even faster, the sound vulgar and loud in the otherwise silent shack. “I’m gonna make sure that this little cuck will cry himself to sleep for the rest of his life. Gonna give you a bunch of brats-” It’s clear that he’s just rambling now, too entrenched in his own pleasure. But the thought still makes you still freeze in fear, the very possible future of being with his child terrifying. He’ll give you at least one, to claim you. Ruin you forever.
You clench around him in fear and he loses it - snarling, drooling and almost hollering above you, he fucks you so hard your head gets pushed into the wall again, every thrust bending your neck into an awkward angle.
You know he has to be close now and you’re grateful for it. One, two heartbeats pass as keeps pounding you so hard you know you’ll feel his dick in you for days to come.
“Oh- fuck”, he grits out as he buries himself into fully, the stretch making you bite your cheeks to bear the pain. “I’m gonna knock you up-” And then he’s spilling himself into you, the hot, wet feeling of his cum deep within you. Bill yelps and shouts as he empties himself into you, various curses and praise peppered in between the moans. It takes him a good minute to calm down again, to collect himself.
Still a little out of breath, he smiles down at you with almost sadistic glee as he licks the side of your sweaty face. “Come on, cuck. Time to get your sloppy seconds.” He’s on his legs in a heartbeat, still marveling at the mess he made just seconds ago. “You better do it quickly because my swimmers are already working their way up there”, Bill laughs and all but shoves Evan out of the way as he goes back to his place in the corner. “Have fun, boy.”
The younger man is by your side in an instant.
“It's okay, honey, it's okay”, he whispers, those big green eyes filled with tears. He tries to soothe you and strokes the top of your head but the gesture only freaks you out more. “This is all my fault, and I'm sorry, so sorry.”
The apology would have been a little more sincere if his dick wasn’t already poking your thigh.
“Oh, darling”, he sighs tearfully. “I’m so sorry it had to be like this- I just- ”, he starts but interrupts himself with a hiccup. “I swear, if I had talked to you sooner-” Not even the snicker from Bill’s corner can snap him out of it. “But I’m gonna make it right. You’ll see, I’m gonna make it up to you, darling”, he babbles on, his words only unsettling you more and more. “You’ll have to forgive me, yeah? You have to.”
He’s a goddamn lunatic. 
You can’t help but look back at the older man, almost wanting him to intervene. Before you can make any eye contact, you’re pushed into a hairy chest by a tight hug. “I promise. But first, we’re gonna get through this”, Evan rumbles out above you, making the dread flare up again.
He wastes no time after that. You’re freed from his arms and placed on the ground - gently, but with unsteady hands. He looks as though he’s drooling above you, parting your legs and sniffing your belly with anticipation. His cock seems to be a little smaller than Bill’s, but considerably thicker - it bobs up and down as he licks your stomach, your tits and your neck, his tongue almost shy.
At least Bill’s cum serves as a lubricant, you think, as sick as it is. “My pretty girl”, he hums. “And soon all mine.”
And indeed, the stretch is almost bearable as he enters you. You’re glad he doesn’t reach as deep as Bill does because the speed at which he fucks you is sloppy and fast from the start - he pushes into you with so much need and desperation it knocks the air out of your lungs with every thrust.
“I love you”, he moans. “And we’re gonna- we’re gonna spend our lives together, yeah? I’m gonna take such good care of you-”
He’s talking himself into a frenzy, his words nothing but the lovesick rambles of a freak - they just make you feel more hollow. “Really love you, angel- oh-”
His muzzle opens and he kisses you over the duct tape, tongue pressed against the plastic and spit sliding down to the sides of your face. He doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he moves his jaw against your taped mouth, frantic and uncoordinated. It’s disgusting.
Unable to move away, you can only press your eyes together and let it run down your skin.
“You’ll love me too, I know it. Just know it-”, he pushes your hands onto your chest as a leverage to go even faster. “We were made for each other.” “We’ll forget about this and live happily ever after.” Now he sounds completely delusional.
His twisted little fantasy of domestic life with you only spurs him on, his moans getting more choppy and broken with every slap of his hips against yours. He seems to be a quicker shot than the older man, too hung up on his bizarre dreams and hopes. You thank whatever godly entity out there for it.
“Fuck- darling, I think I’m about to-”, he whines but doesn’t get any further before his orgasm rips through him.
You’re a proper mess now. The second load of cum feels obscene within you, all warm and sticky as it spills out around his dick and onto your quivering thighs. He fucks into you for another few, sloppy thrusts before he stops to catch his breath. Evan looks so calm suddenly - gone are the tears, the shakiness. He gently kisses the top of your head, the gesture tender. 
“You lovebirds okay?”, Bill says, his voice suddenly quiet, higher.
Evan’s head snaps again, a weak growl telling the other to stop his teasing. You use the shift to peek up from underneath  him, curious as to what changed. A naked man stands in that same corner in Bill’s stead, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Salt and pepper hair is fluffed up on his head, slightly greasy - your tired eyes have seen him once, you’re sure of it. 
“Like what you’re seeing, babe?”, he grins and whistles out some smoke. 
“Leave her be, Bill. She deserves some peace now.” He barks out a laugh, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Finally, Evan pulls out, forcing out an obscene amount of cum and fluids out of your abused cunt as he withdraws. It lands on the floor beneath you unceremoniously, the noise sickening. He caresses your stomach before he gets up, already contemplating how you’ll look like swollen with his child. “We’ll have to wait a little but she’ll stink like one of us soon”, Bill snickers at the sight, one chipped tooth just as pronounced as it is in his wolf form. He pats Evan on the shoulder in an almost brotherly fashion, both too worn out to fight anymore. Bill stomps out the cigarette with another sigh and stretches as though he is simply a little tired from a long day. He grins before holding the door open, the world outside already dark.
“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to make it stick.”
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End note: And? Who would you pick? Maybe even both? Do tell me 👀💕
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lillithhearts · 2 months
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Redeemed!Sir Pentious x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
Not proofread!
GN!Reader
Unestablished relationship, first meeting
The idea sounded.. Bizarre, people in hell wish to get better? Your shocked and confused face caught up to Emily as she laughed loudly before quickly shushing herself, clearing her throat.
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You died decades ago and lived a good peaceful life in Heaven with friends, one of them being Emily! You over the years growing close to hyper Seraphim and being her first person to go to when something was on her mind; negative or Positive it didn't matter she'd drag you to a Café and talk your ear full. So imagine the surprise when she came to you a month ago talking about some Hotel in Hell, made to rehabilitate Sinners so they can enjoy life in Heaven.
"the princess of Hell, it was her idea!"
So not an actual sinner..got it alright suddenly it made a lot more sense but you wondered if such an outrageous plan was even possible.
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A month later the same Seraphim you call your friend stands in front of you, an extremely nervous and wary snake looking guy fidgeting with his hands next to her.
"this! Is Sir Pentious, He's a rehabilitated sinner!"
Oh, OH! Your face lit up with excitement, sure you hadn't believed the plan would work but he's the living proof right in front of you and you almost snapped your head to him; your energy catching up to him as his eyes snapped to yours a nervous smile as he laughed and waved
"helloo.."
He held out a hand for you to shake, quite polite for a sinner, but you supposed he wasn't one any longer so you grabbed it and shook it; your cheeks aching from the smile you held, you wanted him to feel welcomed
"Y/N! Pleasure is all mine, Sir Pentious"
He laughed as he seemed to loosen up, the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade and his hood unflared, Your smile softening watching him; he was quite cute for someone who seemed to live in hell, his look seemed unique too, you quickly cleared your throat upon realizing you still held his hand; a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as you glued your hands to the sides of your body.
"oh please! Pentious is just fine—"
Without getting another word in Emily chimed in, pushing Pentious towards you and clapping
"I thought you two would get along! And he needs to get settled in so why don't you take him?"
You smirked and raised a brow, looking passed the now flustered Snake
"take, him?"
Emily nodded insistently with a huge smile on her face
"yeah! He needs to get used to heaven and I thought you'd be great for the job"
"isn't that your job"
The girl deadpanned at you,placing her hands on her hips while pouting, quietly begging you to say yes a smile and cheer coming from her as you sighed,giving in
"fine, But only this once because he seems like good company"
Pentious's hands were getting sweatier by the second, his panic shooting up as you grabbed his hand and dragging him away; before his eyes settled on the serene look on your face and the cheerful look of everything around him. This would be fine, he'd be fine, you looked nice, This will be fine.
He followed you around for the day, smiling from ear to ear
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A/N : UGHHHH idk if I like this...... Anyway my baby sir pentious, do I make a pt2 with an established relationship???
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midastouch013 · 28 days
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Flirting is an art
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Summary: Yelena attempts to teach Kate the art of flirting, which admittedly is one of the very few things that Katherine truly sucks at.
Warnings: None. Just pure fluff and cuteness
---
The café was alive with the gentle murmur of conversations as you approached the table where Kate and Yelena were engrossed in a lively discussion. Yelena seemed to be giving Kate an impromptu lesson, and you decided to join them, curious about the animated conversation.
"Flirting, Bishop, is an art," Yelena declared, her tone serious. "A subtle dance of words, glances, and mystery. Allow me to demonstrate."
You settled into your seat just as Yelena showcased her charm on the unsuspecting barista. "Hey," Yelena began, her voice low and alluring. "I couldn't help but notice your name tag, Alex. A strong name. Just like the aroma of the coffee you're brewing. Almost intoxicating."
The barista blushed, and you couldn't help but be impressed by Yelena's seemingly effortless finesse. She returned to the table with a satisfied smirk.
"Now, Bishop, your turn," Yelena said, nodding towards Kate.
Kate, determined yet slightly nervous, turned towards you. "Hey, [Y/N]," she began, her voice a mix of nerves and excitement. "If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber!"
You blinked, a bemused smile playing on your lips. "Cute-cumber? Is that a new kind of vegetable?"
Yelena facepalmed, a mix of frustration and amusement on her face. "That's not exactly what I had in mind."
Undeterred, Kate continued her onslaught of peculiar compliments, comparing you to various objects, animals, and even celestial bodies. Each attempt was more cringe-worthy than the last, and you found yourself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
You were thoroughly entertained, blissfully unaware that Kate's bizarre compliments were part of her attempt at flirting. Yelena, on the other hand, seemed to be losing her patience, alternating between sighs and shaking her head.
Amidst the laughter and casual banter, Yelena occasionally shot you a meaningful look, silently urging you to catch on to Kate's clumsy attempts at courtship.
As the conversation flowed, you found yourself enjoying the absurdity of Kate's compliments, unknowingly giving her the encouragement to continue her comical endeavor. It wasn't until Yelena's exasperated facepalms became more pronounced that you began to suspect there was more to the situation than met the eye.
It took a while, but as Kate's compliments grew more exaggerated, you began to sense a pattern. There was a hidden layer beneath the whimsical remarks, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound curiosity about Kate's intentions.
Eventually, with a smirk and a twinkle in your eye, you decided to play along with the unspoken game. "You know, Kate, if you were a star, you'd be the one that lights up the night sky, leaving everyone in awe."
Kate blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in tone. Yelena breathed a sigh of relief, finally witnessing the realization dawning on you.
The banter continued, now with a shared understanding between you and Kate. As the café hummed with activity, little did you know that Yelena had orchestrated this quirky scenario to pave the way for a surprising and heartfelt connection between you and Kate.
Emboldened by the success of the revelation, Kate's eyes sparkled with newfound determination. "Okay," she said, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "How about we cut through the vegetable analogies and enjoy a movie together? There's this new Emma Watson film coming out. What do you say?"
You chuckled, genuinely intrigued by the invitation. "Sure, I'd love that. A movie sounds great."
Unexpectedly, Yelena let out an unrestrained squeal of delight, causing heads to turn in the café. "Yes! Finally!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.
You exchanged puzzled glances with Kate, who blushed, realizing that her secret was no longer a secret. Yelena composed herself, wearing a proud grin.
"Looks like I won't need to teach you how to ask someone out, after all," Yelena teased, earning a playful shove from Kate.
Amid the laughter, you decided to seize the moment. "Hey, Kate, would you actually like to join me for that movie this weekend though? I think it'd be a lot of fun."
Kate's eyes widened, and her body language seemed to mirror her previous awkwardness. It was as if her limbs were on a different wavelength, moving in an uncoordinated dance of nerves. Yelena couldn't help but giggle at the spectacle.
Trying to contain her nervous energy, Kate blurted out, "Oh, uh, yeah! That sounds… great! I'd love to!"
You grinned, appreciating the genuine enthusiasm behind her awkward movements. The café, now a stage for a delightful comedy of errors, witnessed the beginning of a unique connection between you and Kate.
Yelena, unable to contain her excitement, chimed in with a delighted squeal, "Yes! A date! Finally!"
You erupted into laughter, the café buzzing with a lighthearted energy as the unexpected rendezvous unfolded. Little did you know, this peculiar journey orchestrated by Yelena had led to a promising beginning – a connection sparked by laughter and the prospect of a delightful movie date. One that the blonde assassin would be reciting at your wedding.
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rowrory · 8 months
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FAVORITES
Want fics that don't just revolve around smut? Read these!
Fandoms include: jjk, bnha, haikyuu, aot, marvel, tvd
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GOJO SATORU
Intrinsic Warmth — thatdesklamp (ao3)
Summary: “So stay with me. Forever.”
You make a weak stab at a joke. “For Infinity, you mean?”
“Yeah.” Satoru turns to look at you and your heart jumps at the clear expression on his face. There’s not a hint of humour: for once, he’s fully and completely serious. “For the rest of my life, and for all the lives after.”
-
You meet Satoru on 7th September, 1996.
Some time later, you realise you love him.
Notes: HOLY FUCK I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!?!?!??! THE ANGST?!?!? THE PINING?!?!?!? I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS!!!!!!!! THE AUTHOR WASN'T FUCKING AROUND WHEN SHE WROTE THIS!!!
gods, monsters, monkeys — yuzudrops (ao3)
Summary: A grossly under-qualified graduate of Jujutsu High is hired to teach a class of Special Grades. They learn there is more to strength than power. It doesn't end well.
Notes: chefs kisses, literally one of THE best gojo fics out there
Keep a Place For Me — alkhale (ao3)
Summary: A quiet story that takes place a little before Gojo Satoru was born to be the greatest shaman of this era, his youth, triumphs, losses, and his inherent rise to a place unknown by anyone else.
And the one person who bore witness to it all.
Notes: IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS YET, YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MISSING OUT
take me down (to the depths of your depravity) — Innka (ao3)
Summary: The story starts with you standing in the pouring rain. All you remember are your orders.
Gojo Satoru. Look for the white hair and the baby blues.
"This will be easy," they said. "White hair and baby blues, eyes like the sky. Pull him in, fatten him up and send him to the devil. In and out, one and done."
"You can do this with your eyes closed," they said.
"This will be easy," they said.
They were wrong.
Notes: Read trigger warnings first
watermelon sugar why — Innka (ao3)
Summary: You had marched into his office, looking like your life was in his hands. You held out an excursion request. For a beach trip, of all things. By the time Gojo finished reading it, he had wanted to do exactly three things: sign the paper, laugh in your face, and bend you over on his desk to fuck you until you were screaming his name. 
Not necessarily in that order. 
Notes: this is a one shot but i live for pining satoru so
all that is solid melts into air — GrilledTandooriSmoke (ao3)
Summary: Curse user.
The words weigh heavy like lead on your tongue. Something that needs to be swished around before it's spat back out like the black gunk it is. Evil and vile jujutsu sorcerers who would dare turn on humanity in the never-ending war against curses.
And it just so happens you come from a family of them.
Alternatively: political machinations have you attending Jujutsu Tech at the same time as Gojo Satoru.
Notes: in love with this
among dawn flowers (the face of god) — unolvrs (ao3)
Summary: Your grandmother calls the young master of the Gojō Clan a boy-god, and you, his destined bride who will further the cause of the All-Seeing Eyes.
—or, you are raised to be Satoru’s bride and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. (Everything is.)
Notes: i love angst
the witches' brew — orphan_account (ao3)
Summary: You are the co-owner of a small café in a small, eccentric district in Tokyo that is notorious for bizarre murders and supernatural occurrences.
You think you’ve seen it all, but it turns out that nothing comes close to the man wearing a bad Kakashi cosplay who terrorizes you with his increasingly complicated and awful drink orders.
Notes: im devastated i didn't get to see who actually wrote this
5 + 1 — script_nef (orphan_account) (ao3)
Summary: 5 times Gojou had a date with you and 1 time you realised it was a date.
Alt title: Watch Gojou be really obvious about his crush but it goes completely over your head every time. Well, nearly every time.
Notes: kicked my feet a couple times while reading this
Ripverse — seoafin (ao3)
Summary: “You don't need to worry about anything like dying. I won't let anything happen to you," he says quietly, and it sounds like a promise.
You wait for the punchline. The part where he laughs it off as a joke, and then tells you to snap yourself out of it in a way you would’ve expected from him in the past. But he’s dead serious.
Notes: This is a series of one shots in the same univ with the same character, i just used the summary for the very first part
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FUSHIGURO TOJI
(and your love is) standing next to me — shidouryusei (ao3)
Summary: “I wanna meet your son.”
You regret what you’ve said the second the words leave your lips.
“Why the hell do you wanna meet my kid?”
Notes: holy hell is this one of the best toji fics out there
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BAKUGO KATSUKI
what heroes do — sugiwa (ao3)
Summary: Shouto didn't know much about his twin sister. She was an Edgeshot fan, had a raging collection of manga, and liked Natsuo the best.
She also wasn't supposed to be at U.A., but he sure as hell wasn't telling their father about it.
Notes: i am not kidding when i say that even tho this thing has almost 600k words (it's a monster!!), i have reread this so many times it's not even funny anymore
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MIYA ATSUMU
WHITE NOISE — 1keshi (ao3)
Summary: you’ve always loved atsumu— that was the problem.
(alternatively, you force a therapist to listen to the story of how you fell in love with your childhood friend, because what else are you supposed to do?)
Notes: lovelovelove
You Found Me — Amy_Stark117 (ao3)
Summary: Miya Atsumu had his life goals set - volleyball, fame, and success. Nothing could stand in his way.
You threw all that out the window, simply by sitting next to him in class.
Life is really funny like that, isn't it?
Notes: 10/10
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USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI
premonition of love — peacchy (ao3)
Summary: A day after the freak quick duo sneaks into Shiratorizawa campus grounds, Ushijima gets summoned by his school’s student disciplinary committee.
Rule breached?
Assisted Trespassing.
While he steps out of the office with more than just a case under his name, you (unknowingly) step into the affluent stratum of Miyagi’s controlled elite.
In a world of either-or’s, you’re caught in between.
And possibly something more.
Notes: yall listen before this, i was NOT an ushijima girlie. now, i am ;)) this ff also has a love triangle in it (ushijima x reader x sakusa) with alternative endings (though it's not completed yet)
Shoot the Ball — alkhale (ao3)
Summary: As captain of the dying Shiratorizawa Kyudo Club, you're sick and tired of the biased favoritism that goes to the showier sports. Especially the worst of them all—the boy's volleyball team.
You're determined to show the entire school how great archery is, get the funding your club deserves, and by the end of it all, make the entire school a fan of your archery.
You just didn't know you already had a fan from the start.
And he may or may not be captain of the one team on campus you have a personal vendetta against.
Notes: i love alkhale so much
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LEVI ACKERMAN
1,000 Steps — BaddieCurlsXo (ao3)
Summary: You're being torn away to another world every new moon, unable to connect the dots or find any real meaning in your travels. That is, until one night you stumble upon a man with grey eyes and a green cape, who asks you, rather suspiciously, "what are you doing outside the walls?"
Notes: lovette
Death's Door — SongsOfApollo (ao3)
Summary: You spent years of your life under the guidance of Dr. Helfen, the greatest physician inside Wall Sina. Now a physician yourself, you work alongside him with pride: stitching up wounds, nursing the sick, and helping to save the lives of many. But after the Battle of Trost, rapid changes begin to take place, starting with an inquiry from none other than Commander Erwin Smith and Captain Levi of the Survey Corps.
You have heard many tales from surviving Survey Corps soldiers on what it’s like on the outside: to face a Titan, to feel overwhelming dread, to watch your fellow man perish in such an insulting, gruesome way. You’ve witnessed the effects of Titans on the people you’ve doctored. Now you are to experience the horror firsthand.
You are to join the Scout Regiment as their field surgeon, and you will do so under the direct command of Captain Levi.
Notes: one of my fav fics of levi
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BUCKY BARNES
Vacant Mirrors — pilotisms (ao3)
Summary: Dr. Hart shares an office with Dr. Raynor.
You share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.
Notes: felt like crying even tho the ending wasn't angsty
Safe with me �� bitsandbobsandstuff (ao3)
Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.
Notes: Holy freaking heck was this beautiful. The plot? Chefs kisses. The writing? Chefs kisses. Reader's personality? Chefs kisses. The romance between reader and bucky? CHEFS FUCKING KISSESSSSS.
In The Shadow Of Your Wings — emmagnetised (ao3)
Summary: Margaret Stark is five years old when the Winter Soldier comes for her and her parents. But she survives the attack and is returned to her brother, though she's left broken and traumatised. She grows with a promise she made to herself on the night of the car crash. A mission.
This is the story of Maggie forging herself into her own hero, into something that no one expects: The Wyvern.
Notes: if you're a delulu marvel stan and haven't read anything by emmagnetised yet, are you even a delulu marvel stan?? p.s there is also an alternative for this story, go check it out on the author's acc on ao3 if you're interested!
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STEVE ROGERS
The Siren — emmagnetised (ao3)
Summary: Austrian-born Alice Moser is new to Brooklyn when she meets and befriends a small blonde kid called Steve Rogers. Years later tragedy puts an ocean between them. When they meet again everything is different - Steve is about to go to war, and Alice is going to make the SSR an offer they can't refuse: her services as an undercover agent within the very heart of Nazi Germany.
The path is already written. The whole world knows the stories of Captain America and the Siren. Or do they?
Notes: ISTG IF U DON'T GO READ THIS MASTERPIECE RN
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LOKI
A Twist of Marvel — GeneralofLoki (wattpad)
Summary: Naomi Swanson is fresh out of college, working as an assistant in a small paper supply company and inhaling coffee by the gallons. When an accident knocked her out, Naomi woke up in a world she had only seen through screens.
Armed only with her phone and a questionable data plan, Naomi attempts not to be killed as she comes face-to-face with the Avengers, and so much more.
Notes: do not and i repeat do NOT underestimate this just because it's a wattpad story ;)) it's literally the best girl goes to alternative dimension story in the mcu universe out there!!
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KLAUS MIKAELSON
descent — tothelakes (wattpad)
Summary (since the summary on this one is a little long I'll be giving a brief description instead): Rory, the twin sister of Elena, unknowingly dates Klaus, the terrifying hybrid determined to sacrifice her sister. When the Mystic Falls events start, cue the beginning of their tumultuous journey as secrets are revealed and feelings come to light.
Notes: this is probably the best klaus fic to ever grace the world of fanfictions.
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htchnr · 4 months
Text
01 ★ pink lemonade ❥ ROOMMATE! A. HOTCHNER.
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➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon.
CW ➥ brief mention of hotch's guns ⋆ other than that nothing else! ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!
WC ➥ 1,5k. SONG ➥ pink lemonade , james bay.
SUMMARY ➥ you had honestly forgotten you had posted a listing for a roommate — until the firm but gentle knock on the door revealed a tall man behind it, in a neat suit.
AUTHORS NOTE ➥ screw it, i cannot wait any longer while i finish up the chapters i had wanted to write before i started posting this series. so here is chapter one 😁 trust the process, i'm not a huge fan of this chapter, the rest definitely get better!
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★ - © 2023 HTCHNR. do not copy, share or translate my work to this platform, or any other! - ★
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CHAPTER ONE | cinnamon sugar.
➻❥ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫. ➻❥ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.
you had honestly forgotten you had posted a listing for a roommate — until the firm but gentle knock on the door revealed a tall man behind it, in a neat suit.
"hello! can i help you?" you ask, puzzled, as your eyes flit across the bizarre character in front of you. he looked official — agent or lawyer official — in a charming suit and neatly combed hair.
he flashed a small smile, "i'm Aaron, Hotchner, we very briefly spoke through emails about the roommate listing. is the offer still open?" he knew it was still open, you hadn't taken down the listing yet.
you blink for a second, before a smile takes over your face. "yeah! do you want to come in?" you offer, stepping aside. he smiles, stepping inside the apartment. you close the door behind him, moving to the kitchen, "can i get you anything to drink? tea or coffee? i've got other things as well of course,"
he chuckles at your enthusiasm, you're a little too easily trusting — stepping aside for him and letting him in as soon as he asks about the listing.
the background check he had Garcia run for him turned up with nothing strange or crazy, you lead a simple, easy life. went through school, almost finished college but had to take a long break due to your grandmother passing away. but you've started taking classes again, and you're grades are great.
you don't work full time, you help out in the café just below the apartments a few days a week — you're good friends with the owner of the building, and have been since you were a teenager. she helps you out with your bills and you help her out with the physical work wherever you possibly can.
honestly he doesn't know what about you or the apartment pulled him in, maybe he was just sick of living alone — the silence starting to take a toll on him. or he just wanted a change in his life, a different environment to come home too.
"some coffee is fine, thank you." he replies, setting his briefcase by the door. the apartment looks nice — homey and sweet, from his first impression of you, it reflects who you are.
you nod, opening the cupboard to grab two mugs. lucky for him, you had just finished making a fresh pot of coffee. you set down two mugs, grabbing the pot as you pour the coffee. "do you like anything in it?"
he thinks for a second, "a little sugar?"
you nod to yourself, grabbing your little sugar jar and spooning in some. you finish making yours before taking the two mugs towards the living room. "please, take a seat," you motion to the couch as you settle into the arm chair beside it.
you hand him his mug, earning a small smile as he looks at the colourful pattern on the mug. "thank you." he grins, taking a sip. the coffee tastes great, mixed with a hint of, cinnamon?
you can see him thinking, so you beat him to the question. "oh sorry! i hope cinnamon sugar is okay, i need to buy a new pack of regular sugar i used the last of it in the cookies i baked last night.."
he shakes his head, "the sugar is fine, don't worry."
you grin, nodding. "so, uh, Aaron?" you look up from your mug — uhg, he's handsome. "what drew you-" you huff, stopping your sentence. "i'm not really good at this, uh, just tell me about yourself?" you sheepishly smile, tilting your head.
"don't worry about it," he smiles reassuringly. "well, i'm thirty-three, i work at the FBI," he pauses, thinking. "i work odd hours, sometimes i'm away for a little while, not more than a few weeks. oh, i do carry two guns, would that be a problem here?" he hadn't thought about that yet.
you finish your coffee in a large sip, shaking your head as you swallow it down quickly. "not a problem at all! i'm not a huge fan of guns but as long as you put them away properly i have no issue with them." you smile.
he nods, acknowledging it.
"but FBI? are you a secret agent or something? as long as you can talk about obviously," you grin, intrigued by his profession.
he chuckles at your enthusiasm. "i work in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, we profile behaviour and habits to catch killers. we pick apart what makes someone tick, how they move, what their house looks like for example, what their job is, their facial expressions, little habits. and we create a profile based on that, that describes the person we're looking for."
you look utterly captured by his explanation, very intently listening. "that sounds really interesting, so you deal with serial killers too?"
he nods, "serial killers, arsonists, bombers."
your eyes light up, "tell me, is it anything like true crime shows?" you watch a little too many of those..
he laughs, "i guess a little, though much more complex."
you grin and nod. "on another note, is there anything you'd like to know in detail about the apartment? specific things you need or?"
he thinks for a moment, "could we take a look around?"
you nod, setting your mug down on the coffee table. "yeah! well, as you've been looking around, this is the living room, ..."
⋆⊹✮⊹⋆
the tour went well, Aaron intently listened as you explained things and showed things, asking small questions here and there. he took a good look around every window and door, thoroughly checking the front door as well. you showed him his room, as well as a room you told him he could use as an office if he needed to.
he ended up staying for dinner, as it was late when the tour and check up was finished. you had insisted on cooking, while he didn't want to trouble you. you had said that you were gonna order something cause you were tired, but when he agreed to staying for dinner you changed your plans and decided to cook. you had made biscuits and gravy, having made the dough this morning already.
"wow," he said, fingers in front of his lips as he chewed. "this is really good." comfort flooded his body as he ate the food — he had been living off of take out for too long.
you smile, looking down. "thank you, i'm glad it's good."
the rest of dinner was filled with small talk, little things about you, little things about him. with the last few scrapes of your forks your plates were empty and the two of you sat in silence for a second.
"so, what do you think?" you smile hopefully.
he returns the smile, "when can i move in?"
safe to say you're just a little ecstatic. it's been a while since you've lived with anyone — not since you first semester in college — so you're excited.
your grin grows, "whenever you're ready."
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TAGLIST ➥ @realdirectionx @mrs-ssa-hotch
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ellionwrites · 3 months
Text
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1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”
Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.
“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.
“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."
Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll. 
He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are. 
“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”
Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words. 
Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude. 
He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.
It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.
The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.
Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.
- - - - Read more cut - - - -
A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.
The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.
Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.
Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.
It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.
Geto wasn’t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.
Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.
His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.
At least I'm good at reading people…
“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”
…unlike my oblivious best friend.
“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”
Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.
“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”
Geto shot him an unamused look.
“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”
“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”
Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.
It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.
“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”
Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers. 
The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.
Damn him for having a nice body.
“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.
“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”
Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.
Did I just out myself?
“What do you get?”
“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”
The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.
“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”
Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.
Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.
Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.
(Complete fic on AO3)
163 notes · View notes
paper-n-ashes · 2 years
Text
The First Move
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Characters: Steven Grant x Female Reader (with a small cameo from ultimate wingman Marc Spector)
Words: 3.6k
Warnings/Tags: Explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DNI), kinda subby Steven/dominant female dynamic, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie
Author’s Note: I haven’t written anything in three billion years but here’s this thing I wrote. It’s about as canon-divergent as I can physically cope with, set before Steven meets Marc for the first time but he’s there. It’s a little fluffier than what I usually dive into but I’m still a whore so of course smut comes with the meal. (The Marc-focused part 2 of this story can be found here!)
~
“Earl grey, two sugars?” you asked sweetly to the man stepping towards the counter. Steven, undoubtedly your most cherished regular, a name you’d learned from the small badge he continually seemed to forget about taking off outside the confines of his job.
He let out a muted kind of laugh, nodding, not able to have his eyes reach yours.
Oh. Today was a no eye-contact day.
You tried your best to hold back your concern whilst processing his payment, not needing to say the price out loud. “I’ll have it ready for you in a jiffy.”
There was the whisper of an appreciative smile in his lips, but it quickly faded as he walked away, his stare securely trained to the floor. Steven was here every Friday evening, his order never straying from the one single beverage as he sat at his usual table. A window seat, watching the night play out before him in passersby.
In the months since his first visit to this tiny little café, you’d come to spend each week looking forward to this moment, when the clock struck 5:15, expectant of his kind face and curled hair coming through the door. Every interaction was different, and slightly unpredictable. Initially he was simply… cautious. Almost excessively reserved, barely able to fixate his pupils on any part of you. Slowly, you could see the familiarity and comfort grow. He began to return your smiles, speak with words and not movements, linger in conversation rather than want to flee from it.
On the good days, where the anxiety that always appeared to cling to him relaxed its hold, you would delicately initiate some casual conversation. His work, his hobbies, his family – each fragment of information willingly given a precious piece of his puzzle you felt a bizarre impulse to solve. The day he’d posed his own question back had left you nearly too flustered to answer properly. All he’d asked is how long you’d been working here, and you’d never been more excited.
You hoped one day he’d ask a very specific question. If he could see you at a different time, in a different setting. Amongst other people, or alone. Whatever he wanted, whatever he felt most comfortable with. Your fear of pushing him too far out that zone stopped you from asking the question yourself. You just hoped he would, when he was ready.
So now, seeing Steven almost completely revert to his old self, was a little disheartening. He’d slipped back into this kind of state a few times – on the bad days - but never quite this far. Glancing over while you readied the small tea set, he seemed troubled, a flustered kind of kinetic energy seeming to radiate from his sitting figure.
“Busy day at the art gallery?” you asked softy while setting down the porcelain teapot at his front.
Your voice had startled him, breaking him out of a peculiar trance. And he still couldn’t look at you. “Busy. Yeah. Always busy.”
You could have easily walked away, his dismissive answer a clear sign he wasn’t in the mood for a chat today. But a heavy feeling in your chest made you linger, noting the crumpled way in which Steven sat into his chair, like he wanted to appear as small as possible. Something was wrong.
“Is everything okay?”
His head turned, finally lifting his face to meet yours. His expression was tense, forcefully blank, lips set in a hard line. There was only slightly more emotion to be seen in his eyes, a subtle fear within them you were sure you’d never encountered before.
“Fine. Just fine,” he stumbled out, the words coming out unnaturally fast. “Thanks for the tea. It looks… hot.”
There was a twitch of disgust he had at his own comment, and it made you relieved. The Steven you’d come to know was still there, underneath the shroud of distress covering every inch of him right now.
“Just let me know if there’s anything else you need, okay?”
You hoped he would see past the face value of your words, that he might see you as a safe haven in a world you also found a little too overwhelming at times. And while your offer was never claimed as the evening wore on, you’d occasionally peered over to see him quietly studying your movements. Each time you met his gaze with the the same warm smile before he quickly redirected himself away to his long cold tea.
It was difficult not to let the disappointment swallow you whole when Steven, quite uncharacteristically, didn’t even look your way before briskly setting off home. Usually you would have been filled with a bubbly warmth as the door bells tingled, right after the recurring “Laters, gators!” farewell you’d become so accustomed to. Without it, the tinkling metal sound was positively jarring. It made you worry. Did something happen? Had you done something wrong? Was this little fixation you’d centered on one man hopelessly one sided?
These questions continued to control most of your attention as closing time finally arrived, with you being the sole person left under the dimmed lights. With the coffee machine cleaned and prepped for a new morning you’d be waking to greet, you were about to take the keys into your hand when a shrill tone rung into the silent space. The telephone. Who the hell is calling here at this time of night?
It was out of genuine curiosity you scuffled over to the handset instead of letting it go to voicemail, not having a recognizable number show on the small display. Force of habit made your voice delve into its higher pitch as you spouted off the usual greeting with your name, the other line initially filled with a bizarre static alongside its silence.
“Hello?” you repeated. “Is there anyone there?”
Again, nothing. Just static.
“Look we’re already closed, and I’d really like to go home-”
“You need to make the first move.”
The voice stilted you off balance, frozen into as much stillness as the room around you. It was deep, blazoned with intention and… American? What the hell?
“I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number-”
“With Steven. You’re gonna need to make the first move,” the voice reiterated, somewhat forcefully. “He’s not going to do it himself.”
The mention of his name made you physically recoil, peering around in the almost darkness. “Who the hell is this? Have you been watching me?”
“I’m a… friend of Steven’s. And I’m just trying to… help.”
You should have been more concerned about the complete stranger making it his business to call your workplace at 10pm on a Friday evening with such a cryptic message, but there was suddenly a prospect of hope weaving its way around your chest.
“Wait, has he talked to you about me?”
A pleased exhale crinkled through the speaker. “In his own way, yeah. It’s… kinda complicated. And not important. Look, you’ve both waited long enough, and you and I both know he’s not exactly the brave type.”
To his credit, the stranger must actually know Steven to make this kind of comment, a frustratingly correct one at that. “Who says I’ve been waiting? You don’t even know if I’m interested in him like that.”
“You haven’t hung up yet,” the voice said succinctly. “I think that says a lot.”
Damn. He’d got you. Prick.
“Okay, let’s say I am,” you conceded, leaning into the counter. “What are you implying I do about it?”
“I already told you – make the first move. How you do that? Well, that’s your choice. But I can’t keep watching him slowly turn insane for not being able to ask you on a simple god damn date.”
The heart rhythm that followed was loud in your ears, thumping through your limbs. “Is that true? He’s wanted to ask me out, all this time?”
“He’s wanted to do more than that, trust me,” the stranger grumbled, almost in a huff.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry about it.” A piercing alarm rung out on the other line. “Shit. Time’s up. Okay, I’m going to give you his address. What you do next is your decision, but let me tell you, being bold wouldn’t be the worst option.”
The voice didn’t give you time to reply before he was rattling off a street and apartment number, having to hastily write it over your forearm as the monotone beep of an ended call repeated over and over.
The air felt colder as you set the phone down, little wisps of ice creeping over your skin in direct contrast to the heat beginning to flourish from your insides.
He needed you to be bold? Oh, you could be bold.
*
Steven woke with a jolt, the restraints at his ankles making a rattling sound against the hardwood bedposts. Shit, he’d fallen asleep again. Maybe he should’ve made that switch to coffee by now.
Ugh, no, the heart palpitations weren’t worth it.
To his relief, the sky outside his window was still draped in blackness. Maybe his body hadn’t had enough time to try and wander yet. A quick glance at his phone screen told him it was just past 10:30pm, long after a safeguard alarm should have woken him from any accidental nap. Once again the memory of deactivating it wasn’t one his brain allowed him to keep.
It was getting harder to keep himself awake, that was clear. Every night he was drifting off sooner and sooner, always working at half capacity during waking hours without the restful sleep he couldn’t trust himself to have. Short bursts like these seemed to stave off most symptoms of exhaustion, but there was always that lingering headache quietly thumping inside his skull, the same one making his brow furrow as he unshackled himself from his makeshift snare.
A new deepened purple was noticeable under his eyes as he opened the mirrored cabinet of his bathroom, selecting the mildest form of painkillers in his meagre stock. He didn’t need anything making him more drowsy, even when the peace of slumber was the only thing he wanted right now.
Well, except for you.
The thought made his throat tight. All week he’d spent building up courage, rehearsing the perfect lines, curating a persona much more confident than what he knew he was. Casual. Relaxed. Maybe even a little suave.
It all went to bollocks the moment he stepped through the door. One little tinkle of that stupid bell and all his willpower came crumbling down. He couldn’t help it. It was the story of his life. Too chicken shit to even ask a nice girl out to dinner. Could have been simple. Easy. But it never was.
Knock knock knock.
The sound was startling, making Steven jump with an audible peep. A visitor? This late?
Oh who was he kidding, having a visitor ever was a shock in its own right.
Tentatively he tread over to the triple locked door, stripping off the undisturbed tape lining the frame. A breath sat heavy in his lungs as he stood there, heart thrumming to a quickened beat, releasing the exhale in a single, measured progression. Only when there was no more to give, he opened the door.
You.
It was you.
Standing in his hallway. There to see him.
Ahh, right… So he’d never actually woken up. Just stuck in another vivid dream. Seemed about right.
The realisation was deflating, even while his mind instinctively burst with those happy little chemicals it always shot out at the sight of you. It was interesting though, how sharp your visage looked compared to other times you’d shown up in his dreaming, wearing an expression of eager impatience.
“Hi,” you greeted, your voice unusually clear. And positively giddy. “I hope this is okay. Me just showing up here.”
Knowing you were just a figment of his mind’s conjuring caused him not to question your presence, or how you came to find his address, instead starting to feel a grateful smile spread across his face. “Yeah. Yeah definitely it’s fine. Brilliant actually.”
Your face radiated even more joy, almost a little disbelieving. “It is?”
In his dreaming Steven was starkly more honest than his real life, making it an easy task to answer, “There’s no one else I’d be happier openin’ my door to.”
There was a change in your features after he said the words, a change maybe only Steven would have been able to recognise after so much time looking to you from afar. Jaw tightened, eyebrows cinched ever so slightly. An expression of certainty, of conviction.
Two sets of fingers reached out to grab at his shirt, feet stumbling under him as a hurried connection occurred between your lips and his.
A kiss. You were kissing him. And it felt so… real?
Seconds moved on while Steven’s mind desperately tried to catch up, your mouth beginning to move over his with a fragile balance of hesitancy and greed. It took far longer than he would have preferred to respond in the same way, eventually syncing into the rhythm you’d set, the rigidity in his limbs settling into an embrace with yours. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d imagined your first kiss, awake or otherwise, but there was something wholly distinct about the one he was experiencing now.
There was heat radiating from where his skin touched yours. A minty tang when his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your distinctive floral perfume sweeping his senses with every inhale.
When a hand slipped over the line of his cheekbone, nails softly scratching into his hair to pull his face closer, it finally clicked.
He broke away from you with a jerk, clutching at your upper arms. “Hold on a minute, you’re real?”
You seemed to need a moment to collect yourself, frankly looking a little dizzy from the sudden retraction. “What? What do you mean I’m real?”
“You’re here? Right now? At my apartment?”
Your nose wrinkled as you scrutinized his utter disbelief. “You literally just opened the door to me.”
“But… But I…” There was that same annoying delay Steven suffered from his brain to his mouth, his thoughts too jumbled to properly curate a sentence. “I thought… I thought that I was dreaming. I dream lot you know. And with you showin’ up here, I just assumed…” He shook you, needing to feel the full weight of you wobble back and forth. “But you’re here. You’re… really here. Right?”
For long, worrying, seconds your expression remained in its state of questioning alarm, blinking a few times to let your eyes focus again. As the narrowing pupils flitted over Steven’s face, he saw how a tempered smirk began to appear.
“Would you like me to show you that I’m real?”
In all honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what you meant. But the tempting sparkle in your stare had him quickly nodding along to your offer. Immediately you had his heels skidding along the dusty, wood floor, maneuvering him backwards towards the unmade bed.
He might have worried you could notice the pysch-ward shackles still loitering at his bed posts, or the thick layer of sand crunching under your shoes, yet your attention was acutely fixed on pushing him into the mattress to sit, leaning down to secure him in an even more decadent kiss than the first.
Steven didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, having the odd reflex to claw them into your flesh but refraining from doing so in the fear of being, as most in his life would recite, a little too much. So he did his best to smother those reckless instincts, settling to merely drift his palms up your thighs to feel the curve, almost making to your rear when you began to sink down to the floor.
Fucking hell, you were on your knees. Between his. Trying to unlock his belt.
Impulse took over again as his own hands flew down to aid in your effort, working in tandem to unlock and shimmy down his starched trousers, his boxers being clutched along with them until he was on show for you. Fully and completely. So hard it hurt.
He might have let this kind of vulnerable state – one in which it’d been years since he’d faced – jump to overwhelm him, turning to escape in any way possible. But with you, gaping at his erection like it had taken the wind right out your lungs, the fear was purged from his body in a rolling wave, humbly sitting in anticipation for your next action.
Every nerve in his body lit up a spark when you gripped a hand around the base of his cock, already pulling a frantic rasp out his chest when the tip of your tongue swirled around the head. The sound swiftly transformed into a heated groan when you slithered your lips down the breadth of his shaft, enveloping as much length of him as you could adequately handle.
Up and down you started to move, slow by any usual means but quick enough for Steven to shudder through each breath he took, pangs of pleasure ricocheting through his lower limbs. Truly he wasn’t sure how he kept it together, watching your lips glide up and down his now glistening dick, your tongue swirling at the underside in a way he didn’t know existed until this very minute.
In fact, no, he couldn’t keep it together.
“F-fuck,” he choked. “Jesus fucking christ. I need to… I don’t want this to be over until…”
With a subtle gasp you retreated, wiping away the spittle from your chin, looking up to Steven with a single question coded in your stare.
Again his agreement wasn’t verbal, just a rushed bob of his head, very nearly the epitome of subservience. That’s all he wanted to be for you. The vessel of your pleasure.
Just as he answered without words, you responded with your movements, standing only to slink down the pants you wore, stripping off the rest of your ensemble as you straddled onto his lap. Gods, he wished he might have had the chance to glide a thumb over your bare nipple, but you were already reaching down…
And there it was, heaven.
Or as close as he’d felt it.
A moan of synchronicity occurred as you slid down to the hilt of Steven’s cock, clenching around it as you leaned in to kiss him, both palms clutching at his jaw. Nothing could have prepared him for the way you began to grind yourself over his full length, your hips determining their own unique pattern and pace.
Thrills of ecstasy began to riddle through him as your whines became louder with each stoke, each one gliding over with an impossibly smooth friction. No matter how hard he wanted to fight it, the point of no return dragged even closer.
He tried to think of anything that might stave off the inevitable climax. Sand. Mummified human remains. The annoying little beep his barcode scanner made during inventory nights ringing over and over-
“It’s… okay. Just let go,” you hummed into his ear.
“It hasn’t… Shit… It’s not been long enough,” he heaved, occasionally interrupted with shuddering moans he had no control over keeping tamed. “For you… It’s not been long enough for you.”
He could feel the crease of your smile at his cheek, in addition to a pronounced tightening around him down below. “Please Steven. Just let it happen. I want it. I need it.”
Your words, the sincerity in which you spoke them, broke apart all the resolve he had. Every muscle seemed to flex as a somewhat violent orgasm ruptured from his core outwards, continuing flashes of pleasure rolling in aftershocks as he emptied himself inside you. There were hissing curses he didn’t quite himself speak when your thrusting didn’t immediately slow, milking every ounce of fluid from him to your deepest part.
Oh god, was he supposed to do that? No one had ever let him do that before. It was so… warm. In fact, his whole body felt a similar kind of mellowed heat. This sort of afterglow was different to the ones following solo endeavors. More potent and endlessly more relieving.
And here he was laying there like a knob, not affording you the same sensation.
Steven frantically reached up grab onto your torso, unable to properly find his footing with his legs dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Hey woah! What are you doing?” you shot out, propping yourself up to look down over him.
“I was tryin’ to, you know, switch us around. Since it’s, well, your turn. And I don’t want to keep you waiting. I just… want to make you feel as good as you made me…”
The grin that spread across your lips made his chest thump. You looked touched. Usually he hated this kind of reaction in people, where they looked at him like some adorable, naïve soul. Although on you it made him feel… treasured.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s really not necessary.”
“It is to me,” he said unwaveringly. “I mean, it just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t return the favour.”
Again your cheeks plumped with a smile, irises practically dazzling around their widened pupils. You grazed a set of fingers at his hairline, setting some the unruly curls back into place. “You could return it in a different way, while we take a break first?”
“How do you mean?”
“I like… tea.”
Steven let out a roughened chuckle, leaning up on his elbows. “Well I’m not the tea connoisseur of the room, but I think I can handle a brew. How do you take it?”
“Earl grey. Two sugars.”
~
If you read this, thank you! I love you with my whole heart.
Tagging a few I adore and thought might want to give this a read:
@tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi @mariesackler​ @sacklerscumrag
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wumiings · 1 month
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cold storage
“Put up the truck, would you?” Shang Qinghua’s manager said in lieu of ‘good morning’.
Qinghua sighed. He had hoped landing the job at this café would take some of the financial pressure off of his writing - that maybe he could actually have fun with it again. And improve the quality by, like, five percent at least.
He wasn’t counting on how much heavy lifting food prep could involve.
Still, there was no point making a fuss. He hurriedly finished tying on his apron before dragging open the heavy, insulated metal door of the walk-in, which was, as the manager had indicated, full of boxes stacked high and haphazard in the middle of the floor.
This (in Qinghua’s rather compelling defense) was why he didn’t notice for several minutes of arranging foodstuffs on their proper shelves that the freezer door at the back was cracked open and a pair of ice-white boots were poking out.
They were the boots, he discovered with an embarrassing yelp and an almost-dropped case of gluten-free pancake mix, of a very large man. A very large, very beautiful man. Qinghua’s eyes roved hungrily over the strong lines of his face, the jet hair and frosted eyelashes that fluttered just slightly in sleep.
He could not imagine why this would be the place the man had chosen for a nap.
Oh my god, is he dying?! Qinghua didn’t see how whatever was wrong with this person could possibly be his fault, yet some grim premonition told him that his employment status would be in jeopardy if a stranger- a bizarrely familiar stranger, it occurred to Qinghua, though he couldn’t yet put a name to the face- kicked it in the freezer during his shift.
Fortunately, it was at this moment that the man shifted and let out a soft groan. (The things that sound did to Qinghua’s insides were entirely beside the point.) Two heartbeats passed, and then those frosty lashes parted to reveal eyes an unnatural, almost glowing shade of pale blue.
“Finally,” said Mobei-jun in a voice creaky with sleep and ardent relief. “I found you, husband.”
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Shopping trip (What is cosplay?)
Self-Aware! Nikolai Gogol x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Doppo Kunikida
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Description: Set after BSD gang got into your world.
Your new friends/roommates love exploring your world. You keep them company. One day, you and Kunikida decide to go to the mall. Gogol wants to accompany you two. The problem is... He doesn't want to disguise himself. He wants to go in his normal attire.
...
Maybe, everything will be alright, right?
Fluff (for the most part). Everyone thinks that Gogol is a cosplayer. He is ready to throw hands. But he is holding for your sake. People can't mind their own business, they have to discuss, how terrible anime fans are. Karen. Kunikida, as a former teacher, has something to say about looking after the kids.
Prequel to Surprise
Warning: OOC. Rude people. Annoying people. Karen. Rowdy unsupervised kids. One person try to touch Gogol's thighs. But not on your watch. Unintentional lockdown joke. English is my second language.
BSD cast love exploring your world. They love going for a walks. They love visiting cafés. They love going to the festivals. They love to be in places, where they can see other people.
You understand, why they doing it. If one day you woke up and find out, that streets are empty, and then lived in this environment for a few month (even, if you life with few other people), when streets became bisy again, you also would spend all your free time outside. With other people.
You accompany your new friends as much as you can. So many new good memories.
The mall became one of the most visited places. All this shops, cafés, people... For BSD cast, this place seems perfect.
Each time you and someone from BSD cast visit the mall, it became an interesting experience.
You visit the mall not only to have fun, but also to buy necessary things.
Today was 'necessary shopping trip day'.
________________________
Doppo was sitting on the sofa and rechecking the shopping list for a third time. He wanted to make sure, that everything is going to be according to plan. You lazily stretched out and sit near Doppo.
"Hey, Kunikida," greeted you. Man smiles at you and nodded.
"Good morning, [Y/N], Hope, you are ready. We will go to the mall in thirty minutes. The shopping list is complete and has been re-checked a few times."
You hum, showing, that you have heard him. You take a quick glance at the list.
"I see, Thank you, K..." You saw Kunikida's expression. He was waiting for something. You take a breath and spoke again. "Thank you, Doppo"
It was a little bit hard, calling BSD gang by their first names. It feels strange, to call Dazai 'Osamu', Goncharov 'Ivan', Poe 'Edgar' and so on. But, cast want you to call them by their first names. Slowly but surely you were getting used to it.
Doppo nodded, he seems pleased.
"Don't mention it. Be ready in half an hour. We three are going to..."
"Wait!" Interrupted you. "Three? Who is going with us?"
Kunikida's gaze became irritated.
"Nikolai Gogol."
Kolya, of course. He was one of the weirdest of your friends.
And by weird, you mean, your friendship with him start weird.
_______________________
It's been a week, since BSD gang got into your world. That day all of you held the meeting. You wanted to discuss, what they are going to do now, when they got into your world.
Meeting was normal, for the most part. But, Gogol decided to start talking about his freedom and that he will do anything to reach it.
"What I mean, Little Bird, if I want to break the law, I will break the law," Gogol leaned towards you. He looked smug. Like he was challenging you to say something.
You didn't look amused. You noticed Fyodor's expression during Gogol's speech. Dostoevsky looked annoyed by Gogol... Actually, everyone looked annoyed at Gogol. Well, you won't let him win.
Your idea was... weird. But, to be fair, the whole situation with characters from your favorite anime/manga been self-aware and in your home already was bizarre.
"So, you really value freedom, right?"
Asked you, looking Gogol right in the eyes. He grinned and nodded.
"Well, in that case," you booped his nose. "I also value my freedom. And right now, for me, freedom means booping your nose."
Gogol blinked. He opens his mouth. You booped him again. Gogol tried to say something again. You booped him again. This time, you left your finger pressed against Gogol's nose. He squinted his eyes. "[Y/N], what are you doing?"
You tried your best to mimic Gogol's voice.
"What I mean, Big Bird, if I want to boop you, I will boop you"
The room was silent. Everyone was looking at you and Gogol. Suddenly, you saw a golden glow near your stomach. Before you can react, Gogol used "The Overcoat" and trapped you in his embrace. Gogol was laughing. Gogol jumped towards Fyodor, still holding you in his arms.
"Fedya, Fedya, their reaction was priceless!"
Fyodor took a breath.
"I still don't understand, why did you decide to test them. You never planned to cause trouble here."
Gogol only grins. He looked at you. He looked much friendlier, than before.
"You are my new friend now, we will eat something tasty later"
For the rest of the meeting, you were in Gogol's embrace. It took combine efforts of Fyodor, Sigma and Fukichi to pry him off you.
____________________
You smile at the memory.
"Well, with his help we could buy more things. Don't you agree?"
Kunikida grumbles something, but nodded at agreement.
"I guess so. Anyway, we should start preparations."
______________________
In thirty minutes, both of you were ready to go to the mall and were standing near the front door, waiting for Nikolai.
You changed into suitable clothes for today's hot weather.
Instead of his normal clothes, Kunikida was wearing a green t-shirt, dark-brown shorts and flip-flops. He decides to keep his hair as it normally was.
Kunikida started to become impatient. Gogol was late.
"This clown... He himself wanted to go, and now he is late" grumble Kunikida. You put your hand on his shoulder and squeeze it.
"Easy, Doppo, it's not that bad. Maybe, he is trying to disguise himself better. His looks are quite recognizable.
It was one of the first things you taught to BSD gang. They were recognizable. That's why they should wear different clothes, when they are going somewhere. If they don't want to deal with people staring at them.
Kunikida grimaced. He doesn't like unplanned events. And Gogol was an embodiment of chaos. Kunikida turn towards you.
"I know, but still, he should be ready"
You pet Kunikida's shoulder.
You heard the sound of steps coming towards two of you. Gogol, with a few empty shopping bags in his hands, walked towards you two.
You were glad, that Kunikida didn't see Gogol right now.
Nikolai Gogol was standing there, in his normal attire and hairstyle.
You are a patient person. But, right now, you wanted to attack Kolya.
To lose some steam, you decide to indirectly quote O. Henry.
"Doppo, there isn't any heart disease in your family, is there?"(1)
Doppo looked at you, puzzled.
"I don't think so... Why?"
You looked at him. Your gaze was a mix of pity and anger.
"Then you might turn around, and have a look behind you."(1)
Kunikida looked around and saw Gogol.
Kunikida closes and opens his mouth. He looked like he was ready to combust.
To help him, you asked Gogol.
"Gogol, why aren't you ready? It's time to go."
Gogol smirked.
"Birdy, I am already ready. You know why? Right, I want the rest of the free world to accept free me! My clothes also part of my freedom."
Kunikida hissed.
"Do you forget, what Our Guiding Light told us? We are recognizable in our normal clothes! Everyone will stare at you!"
You nodded
"Doppo is right, we would attract unwanted attention."
Gogol waves his hand.
"Oh, don't worry, it can't be that bad. Everything will be fine."
You signed and try again.
"Gogol, please, you need to listen to me. Please, wear a disguise."
Gogol grimaced.
"[Y/N], please, stop it. I tell you I want to go in my normal clothes."
You facepalmed. Before Kunikida can start shouting at Gogol, you raised your hand.
"Fine. You can go in that. But don't blame me, for what's going to happen."
Kunikida wanted to protect, but, after noticing your gaze, changed his mind. Gogol looked triumphant.
You open the door.
"Be ready to be called cosplayer, Gogol."
You heard Gogol's quiet "What is 'cosplay'?", but you ignored him.
Hopefully, people at the streets won't be that annoying.
__________________
You jinxed it.
You haven't reached the mall yet, but twenty people has already annoyed Gogol into taking pictures with him.
The five-minute walk from home to the mall became a fifteen-minute walk.
You had a feeling, that everyone wants to have a photo with"cool cosplayer".
At first, Gogol was fine with having his photos taken.
But then you run into a group of rowdy fans.
They crowded around Gogol, pushing you and Doppo from their way.
"You looked like a real one!"
"Cool costume, dude!"
"The scar looks so real!"
"How much have you paid for the costume?"
"Do you want to read my smut fanfic about Fyolai?"
"Can I grab your things?"
Doppo's eyebrow twitched.
"[Y/N]... Is this normal behavior of 'BSD fans'?" Spited Doppo. You shake your head.
"No, of course not. This people are just jerks."
Gogol looked annoyed. He agreed to take some pictures, so the group will leave him alone.
Unfortunately, the group wasn't satisfied with simple pictures.
They started to demand him to make poses. Dubious poses... They clearly made Gogol uncomfortable. You noticed, that Gogol was holding himself back from attacking the annoying people. You decide, that it's time to intervene.
"Okay, everyone, move away from our friend, stop making him uncomfortable! No poses, no pictures."
You and Doppo squeezed through the crowd and stood near Gogol, like two bodyguards. The crowd try to protect, but one heavy look from Kunikida make them shut up.
You and Kunikida tried to take Gogol from the crowd. With the conner of your eye, you noticed, that the same person, who asked if they can grab Gogol's thighs, were trying to touch Gogol's thighs. Immideatly, you turn towards the jerk and hit him in the face with all of your might.
"Hands off, parasite!" Growl you.
The Creep fell down, sobbing. His friends tried to attack you in return. But, before any of them they can take a step towards you, Doppo dealed with them.
Never underestimate Fukuzawa's trainee.
All group members were lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
You three left the Creep and their friends behind.
___________________
When you finally reached the mall, you signed.
"Okay... It was something. Is everyone alright?"
Kunikida adjusted his glasses.
"I am fine"
Nikolai stay quiet. The look in his eyes was dangerous. You feel chills running down your spine. He was angry. Then he spoke.
"I am not. I want to hurt them. But," Gogol looked at you. His gaze soften. "But, for your sake, I won't do it. I don't want you to get into trouble."
You squeeze his shoulder.
"We can find a quiet place for you to stay, while Doppo and I are going shopping."
Gogol shake his head.
"No, don't worry, I will be fine."
Kunikida huffs and take the shopping list from his pocket.
"We have lost quite some time. We need to split up, so we can buy everything faster. I will go find cleaning supplies. [Y/N], can you and Gogol buy meat, fish and fruits?"
You nodded.
______________________
Good news, you haven't run into anime fans anymore.
Bad news, you run into people who hate anime.
You and Gogol were choosing fresh fish, when you heard their conversation.
"Look at this weirdo. Does the Freak thinks he can wear this clown costume in public like this?"
"Yea. He must be a screw loose."
"All the anime fans are perverts. I have heard, all of them likes little girls. Really likes"
"Bro, you will make me puke!"
Gogol's eye twitched. You quickly grabbed his hand. You whisper.
"Nikolai, please, stay calm."
Gogol squeezed your hand.
You have noticed a golden glow in one of the fish tanks. In this tank there were alive crabs. Five of them.
You blinked. All crabs disappeared.
The sound of something falling. Shocked cries of "Where did crabs come from?" The pained whines of the company that was talking about Gogol.
Crabs didn't like their new company.
____________________
After you finally buy everything you need, all of you decide to have some coffee, before you go home. The day was hard, all of you need some rest.
All of you were sitting at the same table, drinking coffee.
But, it seems, that today trouble didn't want to let you go.
At first, you heard a loud scream.
Then something ran near your table.
Two six-year-old kids. Boy and girl.
They were running around the café, screaming and grabbing everything they can see.
Their mother wasn't paying attention to them. She was talking to someone on her phone.
You three tried to ignore all this noise. Kunikida finished his coffee and put the empty cup back on the saucer with a loud clatter.
"This kids... Why parents didn't do their job? At first, parents forget about parenting, then this 'parents' have the audacity to blame teachers for their kid's terrible behavior."
You looked at Doppo with a soft look.
"Have you remembered your teaching days?"
Doppo nodded.
Gogol let out a loud yelp. Then the kids noticed Nikolai's braid and start pulling it. He turned around and growl at kids.
"Back off, you brats!"
And mother finally decided to do the parenting. By starting yelling at Gogol.
"You creep, don't you dare yell at my children!"
To be fair, Gogol tried to stay civil.
"Mam, your kids were pulling my hair! I shouted at them to make them stop."
Women glares at Gogol.
"You could let them do it! They are just kids! They are allowed to do anything they want! Wait... You... What are you wearing... Is that... one of this anime characters?"
Without letting Gogol answer, she hit him with her shopping bad.
"SATANIST! You are a satanist who is watching Chinese porn cartoons. Useless member of society!"
You had enough for today.
"Miss, watch your..." You didn't finish your phrase, when mom hit you with a shopping bag.
"Shut up! Don't interfere!"
Kunikida snapped.
"If you watched your kids..."
And Kunikida was also hit with a shopping bag.
And security finally escorted the woman and her kids from the café.
You feel, that the day was ruined.
_______________
You finally were home. After putting your bags in the kitchen, three of you sit on the couch in the living room. You're in the middle, Doppo on the right and Kolya on the left.
All three of you were silent. Gogol was the first who spoke.
"It's all my fault. You warned me. I didn't listen. I am sorry."
You stay silent. Then you whisper.
"I am also sorry. I should have tried harder to make you change your mind."
Gogol chuckled.
"[Y/N], don't blame yourself. I am also an adult, I should understand the consequences of my actions."
You take a look around the room. There must be something that can make them feel better.
You had a plan.... Maybe, it will work.
You called.
"Hey, Kolya, Doppo"
Gogol's eyes light up. It was the first time you called him by the short version of his name. He looked at you.
Doppo turn his head towards you.
"Want to have a movie night? Choose anything you want to watch, I will make snacks. How does is sounds?"
Both guys agree.
____________________
Three of you were covered in blankets. Doppo was carefully petting your head, while Nikolai was tracing lines along your hand. The movie was on. The snacks were on the table. You were snuggled between Doppo Kunikida and Nikolai Gogol.
At least this time, everything was right. Everything was better.
__________
A/N: (1) Changed quote from "The Ransom of Red Chief" by O. Henry.
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seivsite · 9 months
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SIBLINGS DUO?
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includes: itoshi brothers x gn!reader x miya twins. crack shit, very unserious & chaotic, my haikyuu debut, mediocre proofread, unedited — wc: 348
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In a world where Blue Lock and Haikyuu coexist in the same timeline, you, my dear reader, find yourself in a perplexing predicament. You thought you could handle these characters, but alas, they are rather stubborn individuals.
The Miya twins and the Itoshi brothers find themselves in a room together, which wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. Sae and Atsumu are locked in a heated rivalry, while Rin and Osamu are... actually engaging in a civil discussion?
You’ve never witnessed such an odd combination before; it’s both intriguing and bizarre. Atsumu and Sae are bickering over who has your love more, while Osamu and Rin are genuinely conversing about their respective sports.
Golly, things couldn’t get any stranger. It appears that Osamu and Rin have noticed your discomfort and have rescued you from the clutches of Sae and Atsumu’s one-sided argument.
The three of you eventually decided to escape the chaos and find refuge in a nearby café. Little did you know, Sae and Atsumu were so engrossed in their argument that it took them a good 30 minutes to realise you had left. After a frantic search using Osamu’s ‘Find My’ location feature, they finally managed to track you down.
And now, here you are, sitting with the siblings duo, sipping your drinks and enjoying their company. It’s quite a surreal experience, almost like having four overprotective brothers or boyfriends—whichever way you want to interpret it. They shower you with attention and keep a watchful eye on you, making sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of.
Every now and then, Sae and Atsumu exchange playful glares, their rivalry still lingering in the air. But thanks to the calming presence of Rin and Osamu, they manage to maintain a level of civility. It’s both amusing and heartwarming to witness their transformation from intense competitors to somewhat friends.
Regardless, you'll still enjoy their company, even if you have to deal with a few arguments here and there. So, my dear reader, brace yourself for what's to come when you hang out with the dynamic siblings duo. Have fun!
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NOTES. i’ve been thinking about this for a while now, hope u like my first haikyuu piece, not sure if ill write haikyuu again but we’ll see!
LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3
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jefaiscequejepeux · 3 months
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Y a mon ex qui est venu chercher ses dernières affaires ça faisait plus d'un an qu'on s'était pas vus et on se parle quasi plus du tout sauf pour des informations précises donc j'étais un peu contente qu'il vienne car après quasi 2 ans de rupture y a plus de love c'est plus comme retrouver un ancien ami et il a 2h de route pour venir donc je pensais qu'on allait genre manger ensemble et qu'il repartirait en debut d'aprem puis j'avais des trucs à lui raconter et je voulais prendre des nouvelles de comment c'était sa vie son travail et tout enfin comme quand tu revois quelqu'un dont t'as été proche à un moment quoi je sais pas si c'est bizarre de s'attendre à ça du fait que c'est mon ex ? Et finalement il est resté même pas 1h vraiment juste le temps de boire un café caresser les chats et charger ses affaires il a dit que c'était aussi par rapport à sa copine qu'il voulait pas rester plus et c'est vrai je peux comprendre mais comme c'est très possiblement la dernière fois qu'on se voit de notre existence je trouve ça dommage je sais pas ça m'a déçue mais bon c'est moi qui me crée un scénario imaginaire dans ma tête puis après je suis déçue quand ça se passe pas comme j'imaginais j'ai trouvé ça très triste même d'un point de vue extérieur que tout ça pour ça quoi bref je fais que chialer depuis taleur mais on va dire que c'est le spm aussi qui me rend émotive car je fais que chialer devant tous les films et séries que je regarde aussi donc bon ainsi va la vie je suis qu'un souvenir maintenant faut l'accepter
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blondelover2772 · 18 days
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The Book
CHAPTER 1
Larissa Weems x (adult) Wednesday Addams
WARNINGS: angst, drama, romance, comfort, fluff, Christmas, age difference, adult Wednesday, lonely Larissa, sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, sexual inexperience, love, cat and happy ending :)
WORD COUNT: 20,000+
about conscience, about forgiveness and about love
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First of all, I’m not a native English speaker so excuse me for all my mistakes.
Secondly, this story has three chapters, which are already written. I’m just struggling with translation right now :)
And finally, Wednesday is adult enough to have a relationship with another woman.
Enjoy.
The permanent principal of Nevermore Academy Larissa Weems drummed her fingers boringly on a mug with already cold hot chocolate, watching raindrops quickly flow down the huge windows of the Weathervane café, obscuring the cozy streets of Christmas Jericho with their bizarre patterns. After another glance at her wristwatch, the woman was about to leave, when suddenly the ringing of Chinese bells, hanging on the front door, announced a new visitor. The blonde didn't even have to turn around to find out who it was. Only she could have dared to come to the Weathervane when nature, deciding to give people a pre-holiday surprise, brought down a real downpour on the city.
“I'm sorry I'm late.” The familiar voice of Wednesday Addams was heard behind the woman.
Finally, turning around, Larissa discovered the girl, soaked from head to toe in the December rain, was quickly squeezing the remnants of water from her long hair.
On closer inspection, Wednesday turned out to be unexpectedly much older and matured. Instead of the two usual braids and bangs, the girl's face was framed by a shock of wavy wet hair of the same pitch-black color, her lips, neatly emphasized with scarlet lipstick, looked even plumper, and the figure, hidden under a tight dark turtleneck and matching jeans, now looked like the figure of a real young woman. The two years since their last meeting had clearly benefited Wednesday.
“Miss Addams,” Larissa nodded her head politely. “I was already beginning to think that your letter was someone's stupid joke.”
The woman watched Wednesday closely, waiting for some sarcastic remark. Surprisingly, there was no remark. Instead, the girl was diligently wiping raindrops from a large black bag with paper napkins, as if it contained something so fragile that it could disappear from simple contact with water. Finally satisfied with the result, Wednesday looked into Larissa's eyes for the first time that evening.
It was not the look that the woman remembered in Marilyn Thornhill's greenhouse, where they saw each other for the last time. Then the frightened eyes, frozen in genuine shock and horror, seemed to beg for help. Now, there was a subtle softness mixed with atypical shyness in the girl's black eyes.
“I did it.” Wednesday said without preliminaries and not taking her gaze off Larissa.
“Of course, I understand that brevity is the sister of talent, but could you be more specific, Miss Addams?”
Taking a deep breath, the girl took the menu, lying on the table, and began to study it intently, either from a desire to really order something, or in an attempt to take a break.
“It has been two years since I’m not in Nevermore and you are no longer my principal. I see no reason not to call me just Wednesday,” throwing the menu aside, the girl looked at Larissa again and added uncertainly, “I think it's fair for me when I talk to you.”
Larissa grinned softly. Still, some things never change.
“Well, just Wednesday, I guess discussing such formalities was not the purpose of our sudden meeting. The letter said there is something so important that it couldn't even be discussed over the phone.”
“Although I have a phone, not by my own will of course, it is much more pleasant to invite another person on a date by a letter.” Leaning her chin on her hand, Wednesday looked attentively at the woman.
“A date?” Larissa couldn't hide her surprise at the girl's words.
“A meeting of two people, if you like,” Wednesday looked down at the menu again, “but before we continue discussing semantic subtleties, I need to drink a hot espresso. For all my love for water and cold tortures, I wasn't ready for these today.” The girl waved her hand at a bored waiter at the bar.
And only now did the woman realize that in her rain-soaked clothes, Wednesday was probably chilled to the bone.
The barista guy came up, kindly took the order for a quadruple espresso, and went to the coffee machine at the bar.
Larissa noted that apart from her and Wednesday, there was not a soul in the whole Weathervane. The subdued light from the Christmas garlands, hanging on the windows, gave an incredible comfort, and the jazz music, playing from the speakers, created a truly romantic atmosphere. Really, it looks like a date. Larissa immediately pushed the thought planted by the girl out of her head. What kind of a date can we talk about with Morticia's daughter? On top of everything else with a former student. Even with the smartest, most daring, brave and, as it turned out now, very sexy, but still the former student.
From a string of not very decent thoughts, the woman was distracted by the friendly voice of the waiter with a cup of fragrant drink for the frozen girl.
“Would you like some more hot chocolate, miss?”
“No, thanks.” Larissa rewarded the barista guy with a polite smile and turned her astonished gaze to Wednesday. The girl greedily gulped down the strong espresso, as if it was not a ninety-degree drink, but simple water at room temperature. Setting the nearly empty cup aside, Wednesday sighed with relief.
“As I said, I did it.” With these words, the girl reached for her bag. A few seconds later, a thick pile of yellowish sheets appeared on the table, fastened with a black scorpion clip. “At the moment, I'm eighteen years old, two months, three days,” Wednesday glanced at the clock hanging in the Weathervane, “and twenty one hours. I broke the record of Mary Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein at the age of nineteen.” A satisfied smile appeared on the girl's face.
Larissa looked curiously at the first sheet, on which a single word was printed in small typewritten letters — the book.
“What an original title for the first book. It's definitely going to succeed.” The woman said with a hint of sarcasm.
A look of resentment appeared on Wednesday's pale face, quickly replaced by self-confidence.
“This is an ideal title for intellectually developed individuals whose inquisitive mind is not afraid of the unknown. Only the superficial ignoramuses need to chew the essence of the book immediately from the cover.”
“Your words, but in the ears of the classics.” Larissa retorted with an ironic smile. How she missed sparring verbally with Wednesday.
Finishing the remaining espresso in one gulp, the girl slowly pushed the manuscript closer to Larissa, caused slightly confusion in the woman.
“May I ask why did you brought this to me?”
“Before I send the manuscript to the publisher, you must read it.” The girl said in a commanding tone, without taking her black eyes off Larissa.
“Do you really think that the principal of Nevermore Academy has nothing better to do than read the manuscripts of former students?” Larissa tried to hide her growing interest behind her pretended indifference.
“Do you have anything to do? All the Nevermore students went home for the holidays to pay tribute to the silly Christmas tradition. There is no one left in the academy, except for a couple of workaholics like you,” the girl bit her lip thoughtfully, “as for your personal life, as far as I know, you do not have and have not had a woman for a long time, whom you would prefer to fascinating reading of my manuscript,” Wednesday looked intently at Larissa and she added quietly, “your presence at the café on Saturday evening with a former student only confirms this.”
Larissa's cheeks flushed. Fortunately, behind the thick layer of foundation, it was hard to notice Wednesday.
This brazen girl, having not seen a woman for two years, somehow inexplicably managed to sum up her whole boring life to date in a few sentences. The question, which should have slightly pricked the girl, turned against Larissa herself. And if you don't need a lot of intelligence to understand the obvious state of affairs at the academy, then how could Wednesday find out juicy details about a woman's sexual preferences? Had Morticia told her everything? The mere thought made the woman unbearably painful. Morticia was the first to whom Larissa once opened up, and she mercilessly trampled on her love and ran away to Gomez Addams. No, Wednesday can't know that. Wednesday shouldn't be discussing her failed love life with such equanimity at all.
But unfortunately, Wednesday can do anything and Wednesday doesn't owe anyone anything. She has proven this more than once during her studies at Nevermore.
Now, with her straightforwardness and outright tactlessness, the girl has crossed all imaginable and unimaginable boundaries. And if a minute ago Larissa was seriously thinking of acting as a literary critic of Wednesday's debut book, now this is out of the question.
“Is that all you wanted to tell me? Can I go now?” The woman said coldly, getting up from the table and not wanting to continue listening to the humiliating monologue of a young self-taught psychologist.
“No,” grabbing the manuscript, the girl immediately jumped up after her, “even if it contradicts my principles, my phone number is written on the back of the first sheet.” Wednesday handed her book to the woman, as if she sincerely expected her to take it.
Once again, Larissa was surprised by the amazing audacity and self-confidence of the girl. Does Wednesday really think that after saying that she will take the manuscript and then call to give a detailed review?
After taking one last look at the soaked girl with the damn book, Larissa headed for the exit with only one desire — to forget about tonight and about Wednesday.
Torrential rain with sharp gusts of wind greeted the woman warmly on the street. Taking a blue umbrella out of her bag, Larissa regretted that she had agreed to this meeting with Wednesday. But deep-seated guilt and nasty pricks of conscience simply left her no other choice. In her letter, the girl insisted on a personal meeting, the importance of which could change their lives forever.
Taking a deep breath, Larissa opened her umbrella and prepared to meet the nature, as at the same moment the instigator of the ill-fated “date” appeared from the doors of the Weathervane. She slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at the woman helplessly, if such a word can be applied to Wednesday at all.
Larissa Weems has always been famous for her fairness and toughness. But no one would dare to call her cruel. As much as she was offended by Wednesday's words, leaving the girl on the street in such weather is too inhumane.
“Judging by your clothes, you don't have a car or an umbrella. I can give you a ride and then our paths will part.” The woman said dryly.
Assessing the hopelessness of the situation, Wednesday silently climbed under the large umbrella, as far away from the woman as possible. Larissa clearly felt that the girl was uncomfortable, either from a sudden awakening of guilt for what she had said to her, or for some other reason, known only to Addams.
It seemed to rain even harder, and the thunder, alternating with bright lightning, grew louder by the second.
Gracefully avoiding puddles of liquid mud and finally coming up with a parked car, Larissa opened the passenger door for Wednesday, who climbed inside without further ado.
Once again thinking about how just one letter from an obnoxious girl changed her perfectly planned Saturday night with old movies and a bottle of red wine into a painful reflection on her unenviable life, the woman got behind the wheel.
“I'm staying in an apartment near yours,” the girl began, watching the wipers vigorously struggle with the water on the windshield, “considering that the purpose of my arrival in Jericho was to meet you, this is the most convenient option.”
Not wanting to comment on the practicality of Wednesday, the woman abruptly pressed the gas pedal, and the car roared off.
In the silence that followed, Larissa's thoughts, however, were not silent at all, being replaced by logical questions and unpleasant memories. What was this meeting really so necessary for? Is it really all about Wednesday's simple desire to amuse her ego? And why should Larissa read the manuscript before sending it to the editorial office? None of this made sense. After all, one terrible autumn day, their paths parted forever. Replaying the events leading up to their last meeting in her head, Larissa could not help but feel a disgusting sense of guilt. She had to protect Wednesday from all the dangerous and terrible things that could await her within the walls of the academy. But, unfortunately, Larissa did not succeed. On the other hand, this is also the fault of the girl herself — Wednesday is so on her own mind that she would not listen to woman's instructions anyway. Therefore, succumbing to the persuasions of the girl, who confidently believes that she has finally figured out the true face of Hyde, Larissa, along with Wednesday, went to the Marilyn Thornhill‘s greenhouse. And she couldn't save herself, much less the girl. Being by her nature an invulnerable shapeshifter, the woman could not have imagined that Thornhill would decide to use belladonna — the world's most powerful poison, which is able to temporarily disable even such a poison-resistant organism as Larissa's. The woman woke up in the hospital the day after Wednesday's famous victory over the pilgrim Joseph Crackstone. Although Larissa did not see the hell that the girl had to experience, the woman heard stories one worse than the other. How did Wednesday manage to move on after all this nightmare and even write the book? The girl, despite her young age, was smarter than any adult, with whom Larissa had to communicate on a daily basis in Nevermore. It was thanks to this quality that the girl then became an unexpectedly close and dear person to Larissa. Now Wednesday, who has noticeably honed her sharp mind, has turned into a very beautiful young woman who needed a meeting with Larissa, who was unable to protect her once.
As she approached her street and slowed down a little, the woman looked at the hushed Wednesday and arched an eyebrow questioningly.
“Building 221b,” the girl answered the unspoken question and added, “apartment 27.”
Larissa quietly grinned, in a building with what number could a young Sherlock Holmes stay? And indeed not far from her own.
Deftly maneuvering between huge puddles and finally catching up with the cherished complex of apartment buildings, the woman turned off the car and examined still wet Wednesday.
“You can keep it for yourself.” Larissa handed the umbrella to the girl in another outburst of care, which, by the way, Wednesday did not deserve at all with her behavior today.
“Thank you. “ With sincere gratitude in her eyes, the girl reached for the umbrella, and their fingers touched slightly. Suddenly Wednesday froze. This is how, according to Larissa's memories, the girl always began to have visions.
“Wednesday, is everything okay?” The woman asked anxiously, looking at the girl's changed face.
“Yes.” Snatching the umbrella from Larissa's hands, the girl opened the door and quickly jumped out of the car, not even bothering to say goodbye.
Before she could fully understand what was happening, the woman only saw the front door closing behind Addams.
A sudden flash of lightning, like a powerful searchlight, illuminated the car, and Larissa noticed the manuscript lying on the passenger seat. That's an impudent girl! Nevertheless, she managed to give her book to the woman. Of course, she won't read it, but it can't lie in the car, can it? After a little hesitation, Larissa still put the work of the young writer in her bag and, taking a deep breath with the thoughts that there would be enough adventures for today, the woman went home.
Taking off her shoes and coat, Larissa went straight to the shower to literally and figuratively wash off the remnants of the past day. The hot water made the woman think again about the frozen Wednesday, whom, despite her disgusting behavior, she wanted to warm up. Closing her eyes, Larissa imagined how she hugged a fragile figure, seductively emphasized by wet clothes, pressed closer to her, stroked her wet hair. Every curve of the young sexy body seemed to beg to be caressed. A sudden wave of arousal swept through the woman's heated body, which made her feel both pleasant and sad at the same time. As Wednesday said in her humiliatingly accusatory monologue, Larissa really hadn't had a woman for a long time making her heart beat pleasantly and her mind distract from the affairs of the academy. The only living thing that faithfully waited for Larissa from Nevermore every day was Donut. A black cat with a white breast in the form of a tie followed the woman immediately after being discharged from the hospital. Such a stereotypical life of a single woman over forty, whose entire thoughts and time were occupied the academy. This, in principle, was quite acceptable to Larissa. But after today's meeting with Addams Junior, who so openly threw the truth in her face, the woman realized that her life was not so rainbow. And to be honest, it's not rainbow at all. In frustration, Larissa opened cold water to cool her body from unexpected arousal, and her thoughts from introspection.
Wrapped in a snow-white bathrobe, the woman got out of the shower and went to the living room. After pouring the food to the cat, which immediately began to devour it appetizingly, Larissa took out a bottle of red wine and went to the sofa next to the fireplace. The only thing the woman wanted right now was not to think about anything or anyone. Quickly disposing of the wine stopper, Larissa poured the ruby liquid into a glass and took the first sip. A pleasant warmth instantly spread through her body, slowly leaving behind the worries of the past day.
Suddenly, the woman's gaze caught on the bag lying on the chair, from which the sheets of Wednesday's manuscript were treacherously sticking out. Deciding that today couldn't get any worse, the woman took the ill-fated manuscript out of her bag and returned to the sofa, where her furry friend was already waiting for her. Putting Donut on her lap, Larissa turned over the first sheet of the manuscript, on which, as promised Wednesday, her number was neatly written in Gothic numerals. Who would have thought that such an opponent of modern technology would ever have a phone. Without hesitation, the woman reached for her iPhone. Of course, she will not call or write to the girl. But just in case, there should be her number. Larissa quickly wrote down the numbers on her phone. For some reason she didn't want to write the obvious name Wednesday at all.
“Donut, how do we call the obnoxious girl?” Larissa gently stroked the soft fur of the cat, remembering how once, when coming up with a name for him, she longed for her favorite donuts, which she is strictly forbidden to eat in order to preserve her perfect figure.
Turning the first sheet of the manuscript in her hands once more, Larissa finally signed the soulless numbers with a playful smile and put the phone aside.
Going to the fireplace, the woman threw several small logs into it and, striking a match, lit a fire. Watching the dancing flames, Larissa turned her gaze back to the manuscript. After taking another sip of wine, the woman took the girl's work and, opening the black scorpion clip, pulled out several sheets from the pile. Wednesday will never know about it anyway. The woman was possessed by a simple human interest. After all, the girl was right that the book with such a title could really intrigue.
After reading the first two pages of the manuscript, Larissa grinned. How did Wednesday, with such an unconventional mindset, decide to go such a banal way and turn herself into a “precocious and fearless detective girl”, and Nevermore into a “closed private university for gifted students”?
“How ordinary, don't you think?” The woman stroked the satisfied Donut behind the ear and took the next sheet.
Knowing firsthand about Wednesday's magnificent fantasy, Larissa nevertheless decided not to jump to conclusions from reading several sheets and continued to plunge further into the fictional world of the girl.
***
As soon as the heavy door had closed, Wednesday Addams exhaled either with relief or disappointment. The sky-blue umbrella, exactly matching Larissa's eyes, was the only bright object in the dark and gloomy corridor of the old building. When her heart slowed down its unusually frantic rhythm a little, the girl wearily wandered up the spiral staircase to the third floor. Carefully holding the umbrella like the most expensive jewel in the world, Wednesday took a curly key out of her bag and opened the front door.
A small apartment with a bunch of antique furniture and rare collectibles seemed to have stepped off the pages of vintage magazines. To the left of the narrow hallway was a living room with a kitchen and a tiny oak bar counter, on which was a worn porcelain vase with snow-white roses, carefully left as a welcome gesture. Which, in Wednesday's opinion, was not necessary at all, because the obvious passion of the owner of the apartment, in addition to collecting antiques, were flowers. They were everywhere: clay pots stood on window sills, wicker planters hung from the walls, and the largest exhibits filled the unfurnished space on the floor. Which meant that the main condition for the girl's stay in this botanical garden was taking care of green “pets”. And Wednesday, without hesitation, volunteered to act as a diligent florist, because the wall-to-wall library of books with disheveled spines and a nearby record player with a huge collection of retro recordings simply melted the girl's cold heart. The only modern item in this antique shop was a television, staring lifelessly with its black screen at a soft ivory sofa.
Opening Larissa's umbrella and carefully placing it on the parquet floor in the hallway, Wednesday took off her soaked shoes and headed to a second and last room — the bedroom.
The bedroom was also small: a single bed, an antique desk-secretary and a double wardrobe — everything that could fit in it. But all this tiny constraint simply ceased to exist against the background of the stunning view of the majestic trees, their green crowns smoothly disappearing into the distance and finally completely merging with the horizon.
Wednesday froze in front of the window, in which now only the black blurred silhouettes of something gloomy and unknown could be distinguished. This picture was as if copied from her soul, with the only exception that until now the girl had not allowed wet tears to gush out from overflowing feelings. Feelings. Those damn feelings again! The girl recalled with pleasant nostalgia what she was like before that fateful day when Joseph Crackstone almost killed her, and the principal Weems almost died at the hands of Marilyn Thornhill. Almost. Of all the shocks in such a short Wednesday's life, death of Larissa can rightfully be called the most terrible and traumatic event. Even the death of her faithful scorpion friend Nero could not be compared in terms of the strength of emotional experiences. How could she, with her excellent analytical thinking, calculating everything in advance, not have foreseen a possible catastrophe? How could she, a misanthrope by nature with an overwhelming sense of justice, put the only person in the damn academy, who deserved her respect, in potential danger? And the main question that torments Wednesday is how she, the most insensitive of the entire Addams family, managed to fall in love with Larissa Weems so much?
In another bout of painful reflection that has become an integral part of her life, Wednesday pulled off her wet turtleneck and jeans and headed for the bathroom. Squeezing vanilla shower gel into her hand, the girl began to slowly massage her frozen body, washing away the traces of the passing day. But it was impossible to wash her away from either thoughts or memory. Only she, coming in dreams, and now in visions, is able to awaken in Wednesday such emotions and feelings, the existence of which the girl did not even suspect. What happened in the car was just a climax that miraculously did not cause a heart attack. When their fingers touched, Wednesday's eyes instantly flashed to alabaster skin with snow-white curls flowing over her shoulders, red lips parted in a sweet moan, naked breasts, heaving with every touch of the girl. Turning into the very quintessence of love, Wednesday and Larissa got to know each other's bodies, getting incomparable pleasure.
Putting her head under the water in a futile attempt to erase such pleasant, and at the same time such unreal memories, the girl instead of the desired relief felt only increasing arousal. With a disappointed sigh, turning off the faucet, Wednesday got out of the shower and looked at herself carefully in the mirror. There was a real blush on her dead white cheeks now, and her usually brown eyes had turned into huge black holes. It seems that the sex hormones that have been dormant for so long have finally woken up without even bothering to ask permission from Wednesday.
It all started with a nasty feeling of guilt, which gradually turned into a real fear: just when the girl had already come to terms with the nasty thought that she would never see Larissa in this world again, excited Enid announced that Weems had been taken by ambulance to Jericho Hospital. Then, inside Wednesday, there was almost a hysterics, masterfully hidden behind an expressionless face. Having mastered her unusual feelings a little, the girl decided to go to Larissa in the hospital and ask her for forgiveness. But the fear that the woman would blame her for the death for the rest of her life turned out to be stronger than the desire to clear her conscience. As a result, Wednesday just cowardly ran away from Jericho, from Nevermore and, most importantly, from Larissa's life.
However, the seemingly life-saving strategy failed to the nines. The more she tried to forget that fateful night and the dying Weems, the more she thought about it. Wednesday's entire existence was reduced to running in a closed sadomasochistic circle, in which she, like a squirrel in a wheel, ran for the long-awaited liberation, and it mercilessly fled from her.
This went on for almost a year, during which the girl managed, in infrequent breaks from the pangs of conscience, to deal with other areas of life that really require her close attention.
Wednesday categorically did not want to go to another school, but the prospect of being left without basic education was not encouraging at all. Having convinced her parents, not without problems, that she would certainly graduate, but at home schooling, the girl sat down to books and textbooks, sometimes even distracting from painful memories of Larissa. And already at the age of seventeen, Wednesday passed all the final exams necessary for obtaining a high school diploma, causing the envy of her peers who had never seen her and who were forced to sit at a desk for another year.
Wednesday naturally did not succumb to the persuasions of her parents to get a higher education right after school and decided to devote the next year to finding what she really wants to do. The girl had three outlets in her life: music, mysteries and books.
Playing the cello was rather a pleasant hobby, allowing at least to abstract from the unbearable thoughts about Larissa in her head. After the events in Nevermore, the girl could only imagine herself as a real detective, investigating mysterious crimes, on the pages of her exciting stories. But writing has been Wednesday's strongest and abiding passion since she learned to hold a pen.
With her boundless imagination, she will definitely become the greatest writer. Therefore, before her admission to Harvard University, and the girl had no doubt about it, she had to write a book. And not just a book. But something so brilliant that it would excite anyone who dared to touch her masterpiece.
The plan for the coming months has been determined. Now there was nothing to stop Wednesday from finally starting to put it into practice. The girl did not take into account only one and the most important thing — she cannot write about what did not touch her heart, and she tried to forget what really touched her heart in all ways.
Being introverted to the core, Wednesday did not want to discuss her innermost thoughts and experiences with anyone. But simply unable to deal with her worries and doubts on her own, the girl finally decided to talk to the only suitable candidate — Enid. For some reason, she wasn't so afraid to open up to her. And so one July evening, against all her rules, the girl took the phone, Xavier had given her, and called from it for the first time. There were the expected squeaks and squeals on the other end of the line, but after calming down a little, Enid still listened in silence to everything that had accumulated in Wednesday's soul. Her friend's only advice was the most obvious one — to talk about everything with Weems. To the categorical denial that followed the advice, Enid offered to write a letter, to which the girl also refused. To some extent, talking to the rainbow werewolf helped at least by the fact that now not only Wednesday was the keeper of a heavy burden, but the long-awaited relief still did not come. Until one terrible and at the same time beautiful dream, when her subconscious apparently decided to take pity on the girl and radically turned Wednesday's view of the situation.
The girl always arrogantly laughed at her classmates in love and was cynical about any manifestation of raging teenage hormones. After all, she knew for sure that she would die alone, having experienced neither love, nor tenderness, nor affection. And she didn't regret it at all. Even Jericho's most prominent boys couldn't make her heart beat faster. The girl just accepted that she was not born for feelings, emotions and love. But one single dream made the girl reconsider her well-established ideas about herself. Once again, she found herself in Weems' office and wanted to apologize to her, but instead of an unpleasant conversation, Larissa took the girl's hand with an encouraging smile on her face. At that moment, Wednesday's heart began to beat at the speed of light, and her stomach began to twist pleasantly. That's probably how people feel when they talk about butterflies. The warmth that spread through my body instantly calmed her thoughts, destroyed her fears and defeated her anxiety. She didn't want to do anything, but just hold Larissa's hand and look into her bottomless blue eyes. Clearly feeling that the limit of her emotions did not end there, the girl tore herself away from the woman's hand and touched her red lips with her fingers, and at that moment Wednesday realized what arousal was. Real sexual arousal.
When she woke up, she just couldn't believe that she could really feel this. But a surprising relief finally appeared in Wednesday's soul. As if now she understood the real reason why Larissa constantly owns her thoughts. These are exactly the experiences that classics wrote so beautifully about in their novels, and classmates discussed so vulgarly in class. The fact that the first time the girl had experienced such feelings for a woman twice her age and the former principal did not bother her at all. Wednesday was only bothered by the very presence of these feelings. Is a cold heart really not that cold? While the girl digested the sudden discovery, dreams with Larissa became more and more explicit and intimate: sometimes they are in Weems’ office and chatting sweetly about some nonsense in chairs in front of the fireplace, then the blonde gently strokes her hair, telling the girl how special she is, then Wednesday, sitting on Larissa's lap, whispers vanilla, for God’s sake, words, hot breath blowing over alabaster skin. The kiss that followed all this obscurantism just knocked the girl out of her rut. Her only real kiss with Tyler was nothing compared to it. With him, Wednesday kissed the wall. Cold and rough. The kiss with Larissa made the girl experience the whole range of unusual, but terribly pleasant emotions in seconds: from incredible tenderness to animal arousal. And now Wednesday finally began to understand her parents, who kissed each other nonstop for days on end. After all, she also wanted to kiss Larissa all day long.
After another such dream, Wednesday clearly understood two things: besides hatred in all living things, she has other feelings, and she was in love with Larissa Weems.
This realization only complicated the girl's already difficult life. Work on the book has never started, because all Wednesday could think about now was the beautiful Larissa with her seductive red lips and insanely delicate alabaster skin. So soft and warm. The very thought caused cognitive dissonance in the girl. How could she, who loves cold so passionately, want human warmth with the same passion? But not any warmth. But only Larissa's warmth. Her hot lips and kisses.
And finally, one rainy evening, remembering a conversation with Enid, it dawned on Wednesday how her two problems could be solved at once. She will apologize to Weems and tell her about her emotions in great detail, describing everything she has lived, without saying anything. And Larissa will definitely listen to her, even without listening to the girl. The main thing is to think through the sequence of actions correctly.
Now it was just a small matter to start writing the book, and with the successful implementation of her plan, all the problems would be left behind, and she could safely pack up at Harvard University, where Wednesday would show all the narrow-minded teachers what it means to be a truly talented writer.
The main plot of Wednesday's book was built around Nevermore Academy and the events experienced there. Of course, it was not possible to describe everything realistically using real names, appearances and passwords. After all, the entire academy with its inhabitants was a sealed secret for ordinary Normies. If a pretentious inscription appears on the cover — “based on real events” — this, without any doubt, will bring great popularity to the debut work. But the girl never looked for easy ways. Therefore, revealing the true state of affairs in the academy for the sake of the success of the book is definitely not her way. Having slightly changed the names, the whole story, nevertheless, has retained its primeval, atmospheric and original plot.
A typewriter, a stack of sheets of paper, melancholic music and a huge mug of quadruple espresso have become Wednesday's loyal friends for the coming months. Exhausted both physically and mentally, the girl, however, was already anticipating the approaching relief, which did not come because of the last chapter. Unfortunately, she can’t to come up with anything. A bunch of denouement options through critical reading an hour later suffered death in the form of crumpled paper lumps in the trash: either the ending seemed too implausible to her, then it became too vulgar, then, for God’s sake, too vanilla-snotty. Having already despaired of writing the last chapter, Wednesday finally realized how her book would end.
Satisfied with a sudden enlightenment, the girl began to engage in her second, no less interesting hobby — investigation. With good wit, and the girl has plenty of that, and a competent comparison of facts, you can find out about anyone anything.
The plan to investigate Larissa Weems' personal life has officially begun.
The fact that Larissa preferred the fairer sex was beyond doubt for anyone. Everyone subconsciously felt that she just couldn't have a man. Any man would feel like the most worthless and helpless creature on the planet next to such a powerful woman. Wednesday was sure that despite her magnetic beauty and sexuality, none of the men even dared to ask Weems out on a date. And Larissa obviously didn't need it. The problem with procreation for a woman was not a problem at all: her whole life revolved around the academy with a bunch of “children”, and there was no point in having her own child, so that he would constantly sit with nannies while the workaholic Larissa once again pacifies a raging werewolf or saves a victim of his own powers from accidentally petrifying — a gorgon.
To back up the obvious facts, the first thing that came under the distribution, of course, was Wednesday's mom. With whom the girl, surprisingly, became very close. Apparently, love really changes people and makes them behave atypically. And so, having chosen the perfect moment, Wednesday herself made Morticia to tell the story of Weems' life. According to mom, after graduating from Nevermore, Larissa was in a relationship with a hippie girl from France for a long time. But, in the end, the freedom-loving nature of the Frenchwoman and the windy character took their toll, and the girl drove off with her friends to surf the vast expanses of America.
However, Wednesday clearly felt that Morticia was not telling her something, but she was afraid to even ask, because she was sure that she would hear confirmation of her own guesses.
The second in this detective game was Uncle Fester. He was the only family member who never asked questions, thanks to seven lobotomy sessions. A day later, there was already a stack on Wednesday's desk with the address of Larissa's apartment, the state of current affairs at the academy, and even a list of the best Nevermore students. The woman's minute-by-minute daily routine simply screamed about the absence of any love interest in her life.
Everything was going perfectly and according to plan. Having collected everything necessary and most importantly — her book — Wednesday, accompanied by Larch, headed to the train station to finally meet the ghosts of the past and finally make peace with them. Or completely quarrel
So far, it looked more like the latter option. Wednesday looked at herself in the mirror once again and took a deep breath. Her nervousness and, as a result, inability to use tactful phrases, almost immediately crossed out the opportunities for a normal dialogue. Who pulled her tongue to say that Larissa is lonely, and her whole life revolves exclusively around the academy? It was cruel by all standards. Reflection, love, pity. How many more hidden feelings can the fatal Larissa Weems reveal in her?
Splashing icy water on her face, Wednesday turned off the bathroom light and returned to the bedroom. What to do now — the girl did not come up with. But a small hope that Larissa would read her book nevertheless warmed her soul. Pulling on her underwear, barely covering her rounded charms, Wednesday lay down in bed and stared out the huge window, which was now black. As if hypnotized, Wednesday peered into the darkness of the night to quickly find herself in the long-awaited embrace of Morpheus, but for some reason immediately found herself in the warm embrace of beautiful Larissa Weems.
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blue-sadie · 5 months
Text
Cuter Then Puppies
Walter (Keys) McKey x Girlfriend Reader
Summary: his thoughts about you as you fall asleep on his chest
Warning: kinda short
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3rd person pov
His eyes where locked on the TV, the bizarre movie you had chosen had peaked his interest one of his hands that was settled on your back drew aimlessly different patterns in a calm manner.
"Baby" he murmured his eyes drifting to you, his breath catching as he noticed your closed eyes and relaxed features he layed a gentle kiss on your head 'dork' he smiled to himself it was a regular occurrence when you picked a movie you fell asleep and he would have to carry you to bed.
But today he couldn't move his eyes back to the movie, he admired every inche of you ever though you might not yourself, you drooled slightly with your mouth agape letting out soft snores making him chuckle silently.
Your hair was missing up as you snuggled into his chest you always complained how you were cold all the time and he was his own heater so each night you would cuddle him closely.
He gently adjusted himself grabbing his phone tht was beside him, he stretched put his arm so he could snap a picture of your face face he grinned to himself and brought the phone back to him looking at the picture.
Keys made it his home screen wallpaper since he already had one with both you and him on one of the dates he took you on to his favorite café, you were kissing his cheek and his cheeks were blood red.
He put his phone away and gently placed both his hands back on your lower back he wanted to stay like this forever here with you, you were the only one other then millie that understand him.
That's why in his locked draw of his desk in his office was a small black box with a small not with 'will you be my player two' with a diamond ring inside and on the inside of the ring there was an engraving of your guys anniversary date.
"I hope you say yes because I don't think I could live without you by my said"
Tag.List
@sweetirilly @greekgods15 @neteyamyawne
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yandere-dandelion · 2 years
Text
A yandere is looking in your window, as they often do, and see you fell asleep on the couch.
That just won’t do! You’ll hurt your neck and back doing that. Plus, what if you fall off?
They break in, as they often do, intending to simply carry you to bed, but closer inspection reveals just how exhausted you look.
“Oh, darling,” they whisper, and hold you a little closer, a little tighter. “This just won’t do at all. You’re so overworked… something has to change.”
So, your yandere carries you to bed, savoring the feeling of your form in their arms, and tucks you in. But instead of just kissing and cuddling like they usually do when they break in, they stealthily but speedily clean and organize your entire living space while you sleep.
(Continued under the cut)
Your yandere views this as a win-win situation all around. They get to take care of you and have free range of your house, and in return you don’t have to worry about chores. Plus, maybe this would help you warm up to them! Their stalking had made you uneasy in the past, but maybe this would make you realize they’re not all that bad!
It’s hard work for them, especially since they have to be completely silent or else they’ll wake you, and they have to resist the temptation to kiss and cuddle you all night, but it’s worth it if it makes you even the slightest bit happy.
And you are happy, but you’re also really confused. You don’t remember cleaning your house, but everything is spotless. How the hell did this happen?
The only explanation you can think of is that someone broke in to do your chores, but that’s crazy… right?
The situation only gets more bizarre from there. Your yandere’s visits become more frequent as time goes on, going from once a month to every two weeks to every week to every day. Not only do they clean your house, they also wash your dishes, take out the trash, do your laundry, and buy your groceries. In addition, they might repair or replace broken items and appliances— you’re still not sure how they managed to fix your AC without you waking up.
You’re still unaware that they’ve stolen a few of your belongings— nothing you’d miss, of course, and they always replace the things they take— and they left recording devices all over your house during their visits.
You’re creeped out, but you decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, you leave a thank you note on the kitchen counter and a few dollars, and in the morning, the note is gone but the money remains. Your yandere adds the note to their shrine, but accepts payment only in your happiness.
But they seem to have mistaken the note for permission to do as they please, because they start leaving you gifts. Small things at first, barely noticeable, like little candies, an eraser, or a new pen, but over time the gifts become more lavish— jewelry, clothes, flowers, chocolates, expensive soaps, and so on.
Then they start leaving reminders around your house. “Remember to talk to your boss today!” “Dr’s appointment at 5:30!” “Don’t forget to drink water!”
Then:
“You’re so cute <3”
“You can do it!”
“You looked so good at the café yesterday in that outfit!”
“I love you! <3”
“You smell nice :)”
“You’re adorable when you sleep <3”
“You don’t have to worry about that guy bothering you anymore. I took care of him. I’ll always keep you safe.”
“I can’t wait to marry you.”
Yeah, it’s super creepy, but at least you don’t have to do the dishes anymore.
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