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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #ewan mitchell #michael gavey saltburn #satlburn michael gavey #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #satlburn fan fiction #satlburn fan fic

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astarion-approves · 9 months

Note

Drabble Request: Now That You've Done Astarion With A Short Reader, How About You Do Them With A Tall Reader? Like A Goliath Or Firbolg Type Reader?

Astarion x GN! Tall reader

Fluff, silly, slightly OOC, touch of angst, mostly SFW (referenced first time together), no beta, and very lazy proof reading.

----------

From the beginning, every glance you caught from Astarion was filled with hunger. Something that you would later think was because of his craving for your blood—

But from his comments alone, it was definitely something else.

And it was endearing.

“Oh, my—“ Astarion stepped back, giving himself enough distance to meet your eyes for the very first time. He sounded intrigued, excited, and the way he looked you up and down was enough of a sign that he was interested in you…

Because you’re tall.

Astarion would find any excuse he could to have you flex your height. Grabbing apples he wouldn’t eat from the hardest to reach branches, asking you to throw him things from a far distance, even going so far as to fake a hurt leg and demand you carry him back to the campsite.

And eventually… he became even more forward with you.

“I want to climb you like a tree.”

“Are you looking down my shirt…? No? Why not?”

“You know… we’re all the same height.. lying down.”

The desperateness truly began once you gave him to him, after you spent your first night together, when you bent down to crash your lips against his and he let out the softest content sigh—

Often, during your travels, Astarion would wander ahead of the group in search of something to stand on. It was silly really, watching this strong rogue skip ahead of you any time he saw a rock or a crate that might bring him closer to your height. He would pose atop of it, pretending as though he was trying to see further down the path—

And when you would approach, he would beckon you over for a quick kiss.

“Not a single soul ready for slaughter, I’m afraid,” he would say with a pout. “A kiss would make me feel better. Unless you’ll allow me to stab Gale—“

A kiss it was. Time and time again. This short elf climbing ladders and waiting at the top, walking along the rails of the bridge to ‘fall’ into your arms, asking Gale to make him float through the air and in your direction.

Each time ending with his lips on yours.

“Astarion,” you began while picking yet another basket of apples.

“Yes, love?” He was gazing up at you, offering a soft smile as he held the fruit he would dump into Shadowheart’s arms later.

“If you… if you ever want me to kiss you, you can just ask.”

He scoffed. “And just what the hell are you saying? I’m perfectly capable of kissing you anytime I want. You’re not that tall, fuck you very much. As if I’m that desperate for your lips.”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying.”

“Well next time, don’t.”

You continued picking the apples in silence, Astarion’s snarky remark burning in the back of your mind. Maybe you were wrong and you were the one eager to kiss him… Not that you would deny that! But this was an obvious form of rejection, and one that made you feel small.

“Oh, stop pouting,” Astarion dropped the basket to the ground, ignoring how some of the apples slipped out and rolled away. “Fine! I admit it! Yes, I’m short. Yes, I love you. And, yessss, I can’t get enough of those lips of yours. Kiss me, please.”

You smirked and bent down, closing your eyes and giving him a soft kiss. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done……. Kiss me again.”

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badkitty3000 · 2 months

Text

Physical Fitness

Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Words: 2800

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, masturbation

☂️Requests open!☂️

Link to my Number Five Fanfiction Master List

Five doesn’t always give you his utmost attention when he gets home. Some days he’s bursting through the door, pissed off about one thing or another, already in mid-sentence while he rants about the lack of brain cells in whoever was annoying him that day. So, you listen quietly, with an amused expression that you try and hide from him until he calms down enough for you to speak. Usually, all it takes is a soft kiss, a scratch down his back with your nails, and maybe even a stiff drink and he’s back to being putty in your hands.

You don’t care if he stomps around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling the glasses inside. Or if he’s so worked up, he can’t sit still and he paces back and forth in the living room while muttering various curse words under his breath. You don’t mind because his anger is never aimed at you, and you are also the only one who can dare to try and calm him down without fear of bodily harm.

No, those things don’t bother you. What does bother you is when he outright ignores you. Those times when he hurries through the door, waves a hasty hello without even glancing up, and shuts himself away in his office. When you try and go to him, knocking hesitantly on the door and cracking it open, he’ll look up momentarily from whatever he’s doing, give you a brief smile, and he’s back at it again. On those days, you’ve learned to just let him be. But it still doesn’t make you any less irritated.

He knows it pisses you off. So, later, when you’ve gone to bed before him and you’re feigning sleep, he’ll slip in behind you and pull you close. He’ll whisper how much he loves you and place kisses along your shoulder and neck until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing back against him, having forgotten what you were mad about in the first place.

Those days used to be few and far between, but lately, it’s become a habit. Every day these past two weeks, it’s been one quick peck on the cheek or brief hug, before he’s back at his “research” and ignoring you behind closed doors. You’ve tried talking to him, and he says he’ll make an effort but so far you haven’t seen anything change. You know you have a solid relationship and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you’re not sure why he’s acting like this. Probably just because he’s an oblivious man wrapped up in his own world, but still, it’s making you worry.

When you are stressed, you usually throw yourself into some kind of physical activity. For a while it was kickboxing, and then it was tennis. Lately, it’s been yoga. It seems to work well for relaxing your mind while also getting a bit of a workout. Tonight you think about going to the studio that you usually frequent, but decide you’re too lazy and you’ll just do your own routine at home.

Five is still not home, but you aren’t going to wait for him. Not like it would matter anyway. You change into your sports bra and black leggings, pull your hair back in a ponytail, and fill up your water bottle. Once you are set up in the living room, with the lights dimmed and relaxing music playing, you begin with a few stretches and then move into some more advanced poses.

Your workout is an hour long and about 30 minutes in you have a nice sheen of sweat covering your body and you’re feeling good. The next half is more about cooling down and resetting your mind. As you are getting into position for the next pose, you hear Five open and close the door to the house, and his footsteps walking towards the room you’re in. You don’t stop what you’re doing. Your time is valuable too, and if he can’t be bothered to stop what he’s doing lately, then why should you?

You sense Five walk into the room just as you are bending over in downward facing dog, your hands on the floor in front of you and your ass in the air. You can’t see his face, but when you look through your legs, you can see that he has stopped in the doorway. Then you watch as his polished black dress shoes cross over one another and he leans into the door frame. When you stand up and look over your shoulder you see him casually watching you with a wolfish grin.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” he says, gesturing with his hand for you to continue. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and rolled up his forearms as he crosses his arms over his chest in an air of superiority.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Is this what I have to do to get your attention these days? Bend over in tight pants?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

You huff, turning away from him. “Well, I’m going to finish my workout, so either sit there quietly or go back to your office.”

“Alright, I will,” you hear him say as you get back to your routine.

Assuming he was talking about the latter of your two suggestions, you’re caught off guard when you see him cross over and sit down in one of the armchairs facing you.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs with a smirk. “Sitting here quietly.”

Not really wanting to indulge him in whatever he’s up to, you turn away again with a loud sigh and move into another pose. There’s a few more minutes of balancing with your butt on display in Five’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything. Then you move onto the ground on your stomach, pushing the top half of your body up with your arms and looking towards the ceiling.

“So, what’s that one called?”

You sigh again. “Cobra. I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”

When you turn around again, your mouth opens in a partial gape as you watch Five in his chair. He is sitting with his legs splayed and his hand on the very prominent bulge in his crotch, eyeing you up like a hungry predator.

“I got your cobra right here, honey,” he says with a smile, and you can see he’s trying not to laugh at his stupid innuendo.

You try to hold in your own giggle but you can’t and you shake your head. “You’re disgusting.”

With another smart-ass grin, he pulls his tie off, discarding it on the floor. “No. Whipping out my dick and jerking off while watching you would be disgusting.”

Before you can make a comment, he starts doing exactly that; unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly to his pants. He pushes them down far enough to expose his fully hard cock and he gives it a long stroke with his hand, all while keeping his eyes on you.

You should be disgusted. Or annoyed, at the very least. But, fuck, he looks hot sitting there with his sleeves rolled up and his hair flopping onto his forehead; thick cock in his hand. Your breath speeds up just a little and you swallow the pool of saliva that has collected in your mouth.

You clear your throat and flip your ponytail over your shoulder with a sly grin. “Well…you do what you want, I guess. I’m going to finish this workout.”

As you turn away, you decide you’re going to give him as good of a show as you can come up with. You get down on the ground in child’s pose, making sure to spread your knees out wide and push your ass back towards your heels while you splay your arms out in front of you in supplication. You can’t see him, but the thought of what he is doing while watching you is getting you wet and creating a damp spot in the crotch of your pants.

You are slow and deliberate with your movements, and you are back on your hands and knees, only this time you turn to face him. His breathing is louder as he shamelessly works his fist over his cock, running his thumb over the head and jerking his hips up. You can hear the wet slapping noises as his fingers spread the continuous flow of pre-cum over his shaft and he picks up the pace. One side of his mouth turns up as you look at him but he doesn’t slow his movements.

“Fuck, baby, keep going,” he breathes out.

With a breathy laugh you get back to it, pushing your ass up and arching your neck back in a cow pose. It gives him a nice view of your tits in your skimpy sports bra and you hear him let out a quiet grunt while he vigorously pleasures himself. When you flip around and push your hips towards the sky, legs spread wide in a bridge pose, you hear him moan softly.

Turning back over and staying on your hands and knees, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes and start to crawl slowly towards him. His breath hitches in his throat when you stop between his legs, wetting your plump pink lips with your tongue and gazing up through a fan of dark lashes. Five lets out a long groan when you reach up and place your hand around his, guiding him as he slowly pumps his cock up and down.

“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?” you ask as sweetly and innocently as possible.

Five lets out a growl through gritted teeth as he thrusts his hips up into the tight fist around his dick.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you.”

You lean forward and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, keeping your eyes on him until he closes his and leans his head back with a whine.

When you pull back, taking your hand with you, he looks back down at you with a deep crease between his dark brows as you start tracing one finger over the top of his thigh and sticking out your bottom lip.

“Five, I want nothing more than to feel your big, thick cock inside of me right now, but here’s the thing. Unless you get that gorgeous, brilliant head out of your ass and start making an effort to acknowledge me around here, I’m afraid that cobra of yours is going to get mighty lonely. Understand?”

Five lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

You pout some more and then back away, shaking your head. “Sorry, baby. I’m very serious.”

Before you let him respond, your back is turned to him again and you’re bending over in an upside-down V shape while running a hand slowly over one ass cheek and down the back of your thigh.

“Fuck…” you hear him moan under his breath and you know you’ve got him. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding just a tad on the pitiful side. “I will make an effort to pay attention to you more.”

You look at him through your legs again, watching him pout with his dick in his hand, and you smile. “No more slinking into your office the minute you get home and ignoring me?”

“No, I promise. No more.”

You love that he’s practically begging you now, desperate and panting as you tease him with your tight, round ass in front of his face. You press back a little more to accentuate it.

“Alright then, as long as you promise. Now, what was it that you wanted to do to me?”

In a literal flash, Five is behind you, pants falling to the ground and his hands on your hips, tugging you backward. You shriek as he slams his pelvis into your backside, his solid cock pushing between your clothed legs. He yanks you back up to standing with a hand wrapped around your ponytail, his breath hot on your neck as his low and deadly voice buzzes over your skin.

“On your hands and knees. Daddy’s going to fuck you now.”

With a pathetic moan that is partly due to the fact that you can’t help yourself when it comes to his demands, you drop to the floor on your hands and knees. He’s behind you again, tugging at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs. When you feel his fingers slip in between your legs, your body instinctively reacts by pressing backward onto his hand.

“Five…” you whine, your head hanging down as he pushes his fingers inside you. “Please…”

“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted more attention from me.”

You thrust your hips back and forth, fucking his fingers while you moan and gasp like some kind of feral creature. When he pulls his hand away, you feel his wet fingers on your back as he pushes your torso towards the ground. He’s teasing you with his cock, rubbing his leaking head against your clit and through your folds until you can’t stand it anymore.

“Five!” you cry, your face pushed against the floor.

“Let me hear you, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me! Please!”

Five doesn’t hesitate for a second, slipping inside of you, pushing all of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. He grips your waist tightly, holding you there while you squirm against him.

“Fuuuck…” he groans. “You know exactly how Daddy likes it.”

After a strong slap to your ass, Five starts fucking you hard and deep, driving into you with enough force that your body is propelled forward and you know you’re going to have rug burn on your arms and knees. But it doesn’t matter, because everything he is doing is exactly right. Each time he pounds into you, and you feel his thick cock filling you up, you cry out from how good it feels. Your pussy is soaking wet and throbbing with each thrust and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He's breathing loud and hard behind you, a loud grunt accompanying each snap of his hips, hands firmly clutching your body; holding you steady while he pumps inside of you.

“Oh shit, you’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he rasps.

With one expert move of his hand around the front of you, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it hard, you yell out.

“Oh, god, Five! Yesss….oh fffuckk…I…I…oh shh…”

Your orgasm hits you hard and your fingers claw into the carpet beneath you, your knuckles white, and your body spasming uncontrollably against his. You continue moaning his name while he pounds into you a few more times before swearing loudly and exploding inside of you. You both stay like that, the muscles in your bodies tight and locked into position as your cries and whines soften and then subside. Soon, there is nothing but the ragged sound of your heavy breathing, and you feel him start to soften and pull out.

You both collapse onto the floor on your backs, chests heaving and shiny with sweat. When you look over at Five, you smile and then start laughing breathily.

“What’s so funny?” he smirks, turning his head to the side to look at you while he reaches down to pull up his pants.

You begin to pull up your own as you grin back at him. “You. If I had known all I needed to do to get your attention was stick my ass in your face, I would have done that weeks ago.”

Five chuckles and moves over next to you, propping his head up with one hand. He pushes a damp piece of hair off your face. “It definitely doesn’t hurt for you to do that, and I will always pay attention when that luscious ass is in my face. But I should have listened to you before. I’m sorry if you’ve felt ignored.”

“I just like spending time with you. I don’t mind you going off and doing whatever it is you do in there, but maybe sometimes include me too? You don’t have to shut me out of everything.”

He nods. “You’re right. And like I said, I promise I will stop from here on out.”

He leans down and kisses you while you run a hand through his soft hair. “I’m not sure why or how I love you as much as I do,” you sigh.

“Me either. But, god, am I glad you do.”

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floofyfizzle · 10 months

Note

Genuinely asking but what are your thoughts on making manga/comic series with 3D renderings like using MMD. I like the princeps and I want to do it for my own project but I feel like it would be undermined compared to making an actual animation instead also could you give me advice on how you make your comics with mmd? I like the idea but again that part of me feels like it's cheating but I really like it and I'm inspired by your way of doing it.

OH WOW I DID NOT EXPECT TO GET AN ASK HI IM SORRY IF IM LATE 💀

I've seen LOTS of people make comic series with MMD in the past. I originated from deviantART where it was a big thing to make them. It wasn't always fan-comics either sometimes it was of people's OCs and such. The only thing is, you can't charge for it. Especially if you're making Genshin content because they specifically state you cannot earn profit from using their models (I see a lot of people ignoring this rule though sadly esp when it comes to R18+ stuff). Unless you specifically make everything from scratch in yourself for your comics, charging at all for it isn't gonna fly. Shit is tricky tbh when it comes to monetizing anything MMD related.

It's really cool to think I've inspired someone tho 👉👈 I'm not quite sure what advice I could give on the actual MAKING process. It's kinda been a TON of trial and error LMAO

uhhhh I render at 1920x1080 for each panel and I kinda just render anything and everything I think that I might need for extra ✨flare✨. I get hella lazy with posing in comics tho 💀 so as long as it looks right from the angle that I'm rendering from, it's good enough for me. ALSO a good pack of hand poses to use or alter to how u want is also hella handy because I'd lose my mind real quick if I had to pose a fist or something close to it from an open hand all the time. The most tedious part for me is the editing. It makes me want to die. The work it takes to edit my comics is about as much work as it takes to animate if not longer to me tbh so I don't think it's any less valid of a medium than animating. OH WHICH I DO IN PHOTOSHOP LMAO I FORGOT

Idk if this helps I kinda just rambled a lot-- but I'm happy to help in any way I can if you wanna know more!!

#jesus fuck i talk a lot #can you tell im losing my mind #i dont wanna gatekeep any information i have that might be useful tho

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myherowritings · 4 years

Text

Borrowed Sweaters, Stolen Kisses

— In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into your crush’s dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the hoodie you snatched was Shinsou’s favorite sweater.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x reader word count: 2,204 genre: fluff, aged up au (class 3a) warnings: 16+, suggestive content

a/n: this used to be a harry potter fic i wrote on my hp account but i rewrote it for shinsou bc it just seemed fitting fhgjdhsfg. shinsou is in class 1a in this fic or 3a since they’re aged up and at least 18 years old u.u i hope y’all enjoy!! xx

“No way.” You shook your head, kicking your legs out in front of you as you ignored Hagakure’s poking and prodding.

It was a relatively relaxed Friday night, and you and your friends decided to spend it in your dorm with a bottle of whisky and a game of Truth or Dare. The truths ranged from anything to, “Fuck, marry, kill: Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari” to, “Who was the last person you sent a nude to?” And the dares weren’t any better. Ashido practically vomiting in the corner served as a great reminder of that.

You were just grateful the dares you received were rather mundane.

That was, until now.

“Y/N, you have to do it!” said Hagakure.

“Can’t I just forfeit this round and take a shot?”

“Nope, that’s only allowed for truths,” she quipped.

You glanced over at Jirou, a pleading look on your face, but you were met with a nonchalant shrug.

“Rules are rules,” Jirou sang, taking a swig of whisky before passing you the handle.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Mina’s fierce glare caused your words to die in your throat.

“If I had to chug that hot sauce concoction you guys made and then eat the mystery sushi until I felt sick, you can go to Shinsou’s room and steal a hoodie or something-- Sounds like a cakewalk compared to my dare.”

As she leaned her back against the bed, hand over her stomach as beads of sweat trailing down her forehead, you figured Mina was right. You’ve been in his dorm plenty of times before, anyway-- You two were friends and, at times, you supposed you enjoyed his company. What was the worst that could happen?

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and slipped some fuzzy socks on, ignoring the cheers coming from your tipsy roommates. When you reached the door, your friends watching fervently as you wandered off to your ill-fated trek, you paused at the handle.

You looked back at them, heaving a sigh. “If his dorm turns out to be booby trapped and I get caught, just know I will haunt you from the grave after I die of embarrassment.”

“We expect nothing less,” was Tsuyu’s smart reply.

Soon enough, you found yourself climbing up the boys’ side of Heights Alliance, feeling like you were doing a reverse walk of shame. It was a quarter past three o’clock in the morning and the odds of any of them being awake were slim to none, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach.

You made your way to the front of Shinsou’s dorm room and cautiously placed your hand on the door handle. With a small grumble you fished the key card Hagakure stole from Hitoshi earlier (which made you wonder just how long your friends were planning this whole escapade out…) out of the pocket of your sweatpants.

For the most part, it looked just like your dormitory. Only neater. His desk was fairly organized and, aside from balls of yarn and different sizes of knitting needles, was clear enough to work on. Scarves and hoodies were piled onto the back of the chair and foot of the bed--which meant your dare should be easy enough to complete--and a dim light was left twinkling.

Everything seemed cozy and lived in. Normal.

Except for the fact that Shinsou Hitoshi was not in his bed.

“What on earth?” you murmured under your breath, finding it a bit strange the room was completely empty at this hour. But knowing him, you reckoned he was out training at any hour he could--something that worried you about him--or playing with a cat off campus grounds. It wasn’t unlikely.

Still, with your feet planted at the foot of his dormitory, you wanted to get out of there before you were caught. Because you knew there was no way in hell for your drunken ass to smooth talk your way out of this mess if he were to find you.

Your hand hovered over the article of clothing nearest to you, which was a sweater draped over the back of a chair, and you took a deep breath, saying, “It’s just a dare. You can do it.”

Before you lost all your nerve, you snatched the jumper with one hand and slipped out of the dorm. As you rushed down the stairs, you could’ve sworn you heard some shuffling coming from the empty room. But you didn’t care.

Part one of your dare was successfully completed.

Now for the hard part: Wearing it around the next day.

- - - - -

“How do I look?”

You posed in front of your roommate, trying not to laugh at how the borrowed jumper engulfed your frame. Walking down the center of your dorm, you gave a little twirl.

“Sexy,” Mina teased from her spot on her bed. “Shinsou’s sweater looks nice on you.”

Sticking your tongue out at her, you made a face. “I’m not sure what you mean. It’s pretty gross to me. I would never want to wear any of Shinsou’s clothes.”

“Then why did you put the hood over your head and bury your face in the collar?”

Slowly, you peered up at her with your view obstructed by the fabric. You sniffled haughtily, trying to ignore the soothing aroma of lavender and smoked wood that filled your sense.

Mina smirked, catching the small sigh of contentment that left your mouth as you basked in the scent of Shinsou’s hoodie. “Gross, huh?”

“Mention this to no one,” you mumbled with a nonthreatening glare, pulling the hood off your head and folding your fabric-covered hands over your chest.

Laughing, she tossed you your bookbag from across as she waited by the door, the rest of your friends back in their own rooms to get ready for class. “Come on, lovebug. You can see him during math in a few minutes.”

“I won’t be looking forward to it.”

You grumbled protests as the both of you made your way down the stairs of Heights Alliance and toward the main campus of U.A. High, but Ashido paid them no mind. Soon enough, you reached the room and spotted Jirou and Hagakure in their usual seats.

“Hey,” you quickly whispered, sliding into the seat next to Tooru before Ectoplasm sauntered over to the front of the class.

“Nice jumper,” she said simply, voice going an octave higher in amusement. “I knew you’d go through with it.”

Reminded of your rather bold choice of clothing (that was horribly out of dress code), you subconsciously tugged at the sleeves. You sent a quick plead to the gods above that you didn’t look as foolish as you thought you did.

While Ectoplasm introduced antiderivatives and indefinite integrals to the class, Hagakure nudged you on the side, sliding you a ripped piece of her parchment paper.

You looked at her curiously as Mina peered over your shoulder to catch sight of the writing.

DO NOT LOOK NOW!!! But I’m 100% certain Shinsou has been staring at you since the start of math class.

Of course, the first thing both you and Ashido did after reading the note was turn your heads at the same time towards the back of the class where Hitoshi and his friends were sitting. And, as your luck would have had it, you made directly eye contact with an amused-looking Shinsou.

Both you and Mina turned around to face the front so fast you were sure at least one of you received whiplash.

Wide-eyed and flushed, you exchanged glances with her, both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

“I told you not to look,” Hagakure whispered, a small giggle escaping from her lips, sending you three into fits of laughter you tried to muffle with your hands.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, causing the three of you to straighten up in an instant.

“Something amusing you, ladies?”

“No, sir,” you quipped.

“Sorry, Ectoplasm-sensei,” remarked Tooru.

“We’ll shut up now,” promised Mina.

With a stern look on his face but a slight tilt of his smile, Ectoplasm nodded and returned to his lesson. “I trust you three will be experts of the integral calculus by the next lesson and I won’t have to catch you making doe eyes at a certain someone?”

Though he asked all three of you the question, his gaze was pointed at you and the class knew it. Your cheeks heated up as slouched into your chair. Perhaps if you tried hard enough, you could turn into the seat.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring the stifled laughter from Ashido and an apologetic, but amused, look from Hagakure.

And as he continued the lesson, you could’ve sworn you felt a certain pair of eyes on the back of your head until the end of it.

When class finally concluded and Ectoplasm dismissed the lot of you, you rushed out of the classroom as fast as you could.

But not fast enough.

“Nice sweater, Y/N,” you heard a deep voice call, stopping you in your footsteps. “Looks familiar.”

You swallowed, slowly turning around to face Shinsou--lazy smirk and all. There was nothing you wanted to do more than dash back to your dormitory and hide, but instead you straightened your spine and braved a look of nonchalance.

“Does it now?”

“Yeah,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. “I’d have to say it does.”

Peering up through your lashed, you looked at him with faux innocence. “I can’t say I know why.”

Slowly, he walked closer towards you as you moved back against the wall. He took the excess fabric of your sleeve into his hands, stroking them between his fingers.

“You know-- It even feels familiar.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Just like my sweater I happened to lose last night.”

By now, the halls had begun to clear up, the traitors you called friends having left you with a thumbs up right as Shinsou approached you.

You coughed as you repeated, “I wonder why.”

He was so close you could catch a whiff of his lavender and woodsy scent.

“If you wanted my clothes on you, Y/N, you could’ve just asked.”

You pointedly eyed the way he was toying with the hem of your--or rather, his--sweater, lifting it slightly. “Well, if you wanted my clothes off this badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows in surprise at your suggestion, hand frozen on the fabric. The intensity of his gaze melted your steely disposition, embarrassment creeping up to your neck.

“I’m only kidding,” you murmured, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.

“That’s a shame, then.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Biting the inside of your lip, you toyed with the bottom of your sweater.

“That’s my favorite jumper, you know?” mused Shinsou, looking fondly at the U.A. hoodie. “Aizawa got it for me when I entered the hero course.”

A horrified look crossed your face. You stole his favorite sweater that Eraserhead gifted him himself? Good going.

“Oh, shit,” you swore, reaching for the hem of the hoodie. “I’m sorry, Shinsou! I didn’t know.”

Chuckling, Shinsou placed his hand on top yours to stop you from removing it. “No-- You can keep it on.” You paused. “I’d say I quite like how it looks on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat when his hand that was still on your ran down the length of your fingers. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you interlaced them with his own, causing him to send a shocked but pleased look your way. You smiled.

He ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, gently drawing you closer to him. “If I were to kiss you right now, would you be upset?”

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. “Upset is the last thing I’d be.”

“Well, then I suppose--”

“What are the two of you doing?” you heard Aizawa exclaim as he rounded the corner, catching sight of the two of you against the hallway. He pulled Shinsou away from you by the collar, your cheeks flooding with embarrassment.

Shinsou, however, looked unperturbed.

“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” he said sincerely, “but what I was about to do just then-- I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

He chuckled at the shocked look on your face, giving you a wink as Aizawa released his shirt. Shinsou made his way back over to you across the hall.

“How cute you looked in my sweater was only the catalyst,” said Shinsou before placing both hands on either side of your hips, pulling you towards him in a brief but deep kiss.

“Shinsou! Y/L/N!”

“Sorry, sir.” This time, Shinsou didn’t sound so sincere as he ignored the appalled look on Aizawa’s face. “I just couldn’t wait until we got to the dorms to do that. Don’t worry though, Y/N-- I swear there will be far better kisses that’ll take place there as well.”

And though the two of you may have been sentenced to detention and cleaning duty for the next three weekends, you would have to say the kiss was definitely worth it.

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effeminateboyninja · 3 years

Note

I had a dream last night that I had an unrequited crush on Shikamaru since forever but he and Temari had started dating.

(In the dream I had me and Shiki we’re walking and joking then Temari came over and then they went for dinner together. As Shikamaru’s friend I was like -arm punch- go on bro, have fun. And they walked away together leaving me feeling heartbroken, inadequate and inferior.)

You can do any scenario you want. I literally have an unrequited love playlist lol 😂❤️

oh anon, i've been there 😭 let us wallow in our unrequited love for Shikamaru together

~ Almost enough ~

(Shikamaru x fem!reader) angst // 1.7k words

Ten years. An entire decade with Shikamaru by your side, getting into the carefree mischief that defined such childhood friendships and growing so close people were surprised to see one of you without the other. More than half of it spent trying to ignore the butterflies and daydreams that would force you to admit you wanted him to be more. In hindsight it seemed inevitable, the way he’d snuck into your heart before you could even notice. With his striking intelligence and those penetrating eyes, the way he so readily discarded his lazy demeanor and replaced it with hardened determination when his friends needed him — how could you not love him?

You accepted it too late though, spent too many months agonizing over how to tell your best friend that you were head over heels for him, and by the time you were finally brave enough to take the plunge and make your confession he had one of his own. That day was cemented in your mind now, a stinging reminder of your own inaction. Against your better judgement you drifted back into the memory...

It was beautiful out, the warm air offset by a gentle breeze that carried the spring blossoms through the wind as he sat across the shogi board from you, his sharp brow furrowed in concentration as he analyzed the pieces to determine his next move. One of the petals caught in his dark hair and your hand moved to brush it away, but before you could he sat back with a sigh, “Do you wanna do something else? I’m not really into the game.”

“Why? Because I’m winning?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes and cracked a small grin. “You’re only winning because I’m not giving it my all,” he objected.

“Sure, sure,” you threw a light punch at his shoulder and you both laughed. He looked so pretty when he laughed. Not the snarky chuckle he used so often in public, but this unapologetically cheerful one accompanied by a toothy smile that was so carefree and genuine it transformed his serious face into something softer, more innocent. The words never seemed easier to say than it that moment, and without your permission they slipped through your lips as the laughter died out.

“I love you.”

He didn’t even skip a beat, returning your confession with an eye roll and a gentle shove. “Shut up dude, I love you too. You’re my best friend, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Your heart sunk a bit at his misinterpretation and you parted your lips to explain that yes, he’s your best friend too but he’s also so much more, but before you could he went on, “Speaking of love, I wanted to ask for some advice... about Temari.”

His eyes darted to his hands and a soft blush crept across his cheeks. You’d have thought he punched you in the stomach, not timidly asked for your help by the way your body tensed at his words. You didn’t know disappointment could feel so tangible until that moment, the way your stomach dropped to your feet and your hands went cold. “Temari?” you questioned, clearing your throat to rid it of the lump that had formed, “you love her?”

He jolted up and the red in his cheeks deepened. “Nono of course not!” he stammered, “I just… I like her a lot and like, you’re a girl right? How do I win her over?”

For the first time in your life you regretted being so close to him. Couldn’t he have gone to literally anyone else for help with this? Why did it have to be you? To him you were the only one he could approach about such an important topic. It wasn’t just because you were a girl that he asked, but because he valued your opinion above anyone else's. It was because even if it wasn’t the way you wanted, he wasn’t lying when he said he loved you too. So you pushed it all aside — all the heartbreak and sadness that threatened to overwhelm you — you buried it deep down inside for the sake of your friend, looking so nervous and vulnerable as he sat in front of you and put on a fake smile as you did your best to be what he needed in that moment.

“Well you’re a catch so it should be easy, but if you really want to impress her you should…”

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Shikamaru waved his hand in front of your eyes, pulling you out of your recollection and back to the present where you walked easily beside him through the streets, no real destination in mind.

You blinked a few times to reorient yourself and apologized with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted today.”

He snickered, “Who has their head in the clouds now, huh?”

“You’ve been a bad influence on me,” you retorted with a smirk and he laughed.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “Hey, do you remember when we were kids and we would skip class to go cloud watching?”

He wore a thoughtful smile as he posed the question, his eyes lost in a content nostalgia. God, why did he have to look so damn perfect when he smiled?

You cleared your head and scoffed, “Of course. I still get grief from my mother about all the absence notes Iruka sensei sent home.”

He snorted, “You actually gave her those?! I always ripped mine up before she could see them,” his sentence trailed off into a laugh, one of those real ones that you lived for the sound of and you joined him, forgetting momentarily about your unrequited feelings.

But of course the moment ended much too soon. You noticed her at the same time he did, and you were glad the Nara man’s intense gaze was so singularly focused on the blonde woman ahead that he wouldn’t notice the way your face fell as your laughter cut off abruptly. She waved excitedly from her position a few blocks down and rushed towards you guys, her short pigtails bouncing behind her as she ran.

“Hey you guys!” she greeted the two of you excitedly as she arrived, giving Shikamaru a quick peck on the cheek, causing a small wince you hoped went unnoticed. “Ready for our date?”

“Shit! I almost forgot,” he palmed his forehead and turned to you apologetically, “we’re supposed to get dinner tonight, we have a reservation and everything. Sorry to leave you like this but we’ve gotta go.”

“No worries!” you flashed them a bright smile, one that was uncharacteristically wide in an attempt to compensate for your disappointment. “Go on and take your girl out. Have fun.”

You shoved him towards her lightly and Temari smiled, “Yeah! Listen to (y/n), she’s got the right idea.”

He looked at her the way you’d dreamed he would look at you and laced his fingers through hers, moving to lead her away in the direction of the restaurant. He looked over his shoulder and called back, “See ya tomorrow!” They both waved before turning back ahead, swaying gently as they matched each other’s steps.

“See ya…” you whispered to yourself, their shared giggles echoing off the buildings as they turned the corner and disappeared from your sight.

Nowhere else to go and not wanting to return to your empty apartment you turned to continue walking the sandy streets of the village and ponder. After a while you found yourself at a small pond, where you sat at the edge and peered into the calm water that reflected the crescent of the rising moon in it’s glossy reflection.

What was it about her? Why her and not you? Maybe it’s because she’s so beautiful, you thought forlornly as you traced the lines of your own plain features in the watery mirror below. You hit your hand over the surface to disturb the picture of yourself, water splashing back and mixing with tears that had started to fall on your cheeks.

That wasn’t it and you knew it. Shikamaru wasn’t that shallow. If he was this might be easier. He was with her and not you because she was perfect for him. Even you could admit that in spite of your own feelings she was his ideal match. He just lit up around her in a way that he never did when you were together, and as painful as that was there was an unselfish part of you that appreciated her for it.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to hate her. Trying to find a reason, any reason that they shouldn’t be together to justify telling him your truth and ruining it all — but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Underneath the hard exterior she really was kind, extremely so. She was more perceptive about matters of the heart than he was, and you suspected she knew of your true feelings for her boyfriend… but she never once made you feel bad about it or told him. Not that she needed to try to make you feel guilty, the feeling overwhelmed you everytime they were around, and even more so when it was just the two of you.

The small part that was left of you still concerned with self-preservation told you to cut them both off. To just stop answering his calls and disappear from their lives before you could slip up and lean in for the kiss you imagined millions of times. But he was addicting. No one else made you feel so at ease, made you laugh so joyfully except him. So you’d wade through the guilt and the knowledge that you were only hurting yourself just to spend a few minutes with him whenever you could, even if it meant watching him fall in love with someone else. Being his friend was enough. Almost.

#shikamaru nara #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru angst #shikamaru oneshot #shikamaru fanfiction #shikamaru imagine #nara shikamaru #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #naruto oneshot

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meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

then again sometimes i get really sweet (harry styles imagine)

this is PURE smut. p*ssy job and belly humping. don’t read if you’re like 13 or something. word count: 5k+

Three days. It's been three days since Y/N and Harry last had sex.

Sure, they touched each other here and there: like when yesterday Harry fingered her in the shower and when the other day Y/N gave him a lazy hand job under the sheets when he had trouble falling asleep... but it wasn't the same.

They were fine, they weren't fighting or anything but they were both so busy that as soon as Harry came home from the studio, he went straight for a shower then later they cuddled on the sofa until it was bed time. It was fine until last night when Y/N woke up humping the air while Harry slept peacefully next to her. But today, she thinks, she’s going to take the matters in her hands. The very hands she’s been using a lot on herself in the shower lately.

When they wake up at around eight that morning, Harry’s all sleepy smiles as he kisses her nose which earns a grimace from Y/N because of his morning breath but they both laugh it off in the end. They eat their breakfast in comfortable silence, a word or two leaving their mouths in between food, and Harry leaves the house after a kiss on the lips and a slap on the bum. Since today was the day he would be finalising one of the songs from his album, Harry wouldn’t take too long in the studio. Normally, Y/N would clean up, leaving the dishes in the dishwasher when they’re done for Harry to put back in where they belonged. But today, she steals another sip from Harry’s black coffee and makes her way upstairs into their bedroom, feeling all giddy.

As soon as she gets rid of Harry’s tattered Pink Floyd t-shirt she had on, she lays on the bed and unplugs her phone from the charger. When she tries to get comfortable in the middle of the bed, she feels her boobs jiggle and the sensitive nipples harden at the movement. Fuck, she thinks, she would really love it if Harry were there: to be under him, to have his tongue swirling around her hardened nipples, him biting, pinching and slapping them... and maybe spitting on them then later bringing his cock onto her nipples and spreading his spit with his hardening length.

She's now so wet that she can feel the tiny thong dampening between her thick thighs. She unlocks her phone and find her way through her favourite porn site.

Her watching porn wasn’t a secret. Both Harry and Y/N loved it. Of course, it was always their last choice since they loved each other’s company and bodies but whenever they were by themselves and there was no way for them to get off together via phone calls and as such, they loved getting off to porn. They also loved watching together sometimes. They were both open to trying pretty much anything in bed as long as they both approved of it and talked about whatever that may be beforehand.

In conclusion, they had a pretty healthy sex life. Until lately.

Don’t get her wrong, their relationship wasn’t solely built on sex. They enjoyed each other’s company; quiet nights spent inside, eating takeaways until their stomachs can take no more and nights where they only cuddled and did nothing more.

But she was horny. And she knew he was too at times because he seemed on edge most nights when they cuddled while watching Bake Off and she could feel him trying to move his lower half away from her ass because Harry wasn’t looking for a quick fuck. He wanted to take his time to devour her, to taste her properly and to fuck her for hours and hours.

Now, in their bed, the smell of Harry’s shampoo imprinted on his pillow that surrounded the air, she touches her boobs with her right hand while the other holds her phone securely. The phone plays a filthy video of a girl touching her own wet pussy and it makes Y/N bite her lip. She brings her middle finger into her mouth and spits on it, and watching the spit run down her chin, her middle finger rubs her nipple. An ‘aah’ leaves her parted mouth at the contact.

When the spit dries on her hardened nipples, she gives one last squeeze to both boobs before her shaking hand makes its way down her pudgy belly, towards where she needs some friction the most. She throws one leg on the raised sheets at her feet and whimpers when she feels her own juices breaking apart around her warm pussy with the movement of her leg.

She doesn’t want to touch it. She’s not going to. Her plan was to edge herself until Harry comes home so she could get the full treatment. She ‘mmm’s at the thought of Harry and his thick, veiny cock that she loves the most. She imagines his hard length running up and down on her pussy, his swollen tip nudging the spongy nub and making a mess of her while he spreads the juices around. She whimpers and closes her legs at the thought, the lips moving freely with the help of her wetness. Another moan leaves her parted mouth and she locks the phone before throwing it onto Harry’s pillow next to her head. She presses her thighs harder and squeezes again numerous times to gain more fraction without getting her fingers involved. A low squeal leaves her mouth as she feels her juices cover the insides of her thighs.

At the sound of a text message, she reaches for the phone, deciding that it’s enough edging for now and unlocks the phone.

It’s Harry, cheesing to the camera with his infamous thumbs up pose and he’s letting Y/N know that he is:

Finished for the day. Have the week off. Nearly homeee. X

Something bubbles in her chest –and her pussy clearly– as he sends back a heart emoji.

Leaving the phone behind, she sits up on the bed and catches a sight of her naked body in the mirror that sits at the opposite side of the bed. Her body is glimmering with sweat and she can feel the droplets racing each other down her legs.

Without breaking eye contact with the version of herself in the mirror, she crosses her legs and begins kneading her boobs. She brings one of them –the bigger one of the two– as higher as she can and alternates between licking and teething the slowly hardening nub. Then she humps the bed with her ass while she sits and grins when she hears the jiggling of keys coming from downstairs.

She quickly grabs the t-shirt from where she threw it and puts it on, making her way to where the stairs are. While she walks, she imagines the carpet she’s walking on on her back, while she lays on it, getting drilled by Harry and sighs. When she stops at the stairs, she tries to listen to the noises coming from downstairs. She knows his routine by now: he takes off his shoes, his jacket if he’s wearing any, washes his hands in the tiny bathroom that they had under the stairs and then greets his girl. When she hears the faucet turn off, she knows he’ll be upstairs in no time. Thus, she parts her legs so that her wet pussy can be seen from the bottom of the stairs since she’s at the top.

Harry’s ratty t-shirt doesn’t do much to hide her bottom half due to her curvy frame and while she felt self-conscious at the beginning of their relationship, she took her time getting more and more confident with her curves, the fat on her body and her jiggly thighs which made Harry fall even more in love with her due to her confidence in herself.

When she leans towards to get a better look at the downstairs area, she sees Harry coming out of the bathroom and making his way upstairs. When he notices her, the dimple makes itself noticeable on his smiling face and the sight of her boyfriend’s smiling face makes her heart feel like someone’s squeezing it so hard it’s going to burst.

She smiles back.

“Hi babygirl,” he starts but he stops in his tracks when he spots her glistening cunt peaking under the t-shirt.

At the sight, Harry feels like his favourite meal is being offered to him on a silver platter after a long day at work. He recovers quickly and sends the goddess standing on top of the stairs a smirk.

“What’s going on, hmm?” he hums, continuing his steps and finally coming to Y/N’s level. When she keeps smiling, he grabs her by the neck gently and brings her into a hug, her warm body pressing against his.

“I missed you today. Miss you every day,” she mumbles as her mouth comes in contact with his neck that was dampened with sweat. He makes a sound of agreement and hugs her tighter, their bodies pressing against each other. The lack of space between their chests makes Y/N’s nipples harder than they felt before.

“Wha’ do we have under there, huh? What is it,” he observes, his arm making its way down her body and finally lifting the t-shirt.

Her pussy peeks at him from under the fabric and the sight of her wetness knocks the wind out of him. He goes to touch but Y/N arches back, freeing her body from his.

“Don’t touch. Not now,”

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he frowns teasingly, ignoring her attitude. “Hmm? My pussy looks really wet...” he makes a show of examining her bottom half and it makes Y/N groan impatiently.

When she doesn’t answer, he parts her pussy lips and watches in awe as the creamy wetness connects with each lip.

When he takes his fingers off of her heat, Y/N’s own hand make its way to Harry’s hardening cock. When she grabs him through his trousers, the outline of his now-semi sits perfectly against her palm.

The pink lips she loves devouring the most make a throaty groan and she goes for his lips, kissing into his mouth as if she’s starving and what she’s starving for are his lips. He responds as hungrily and they begin kissing in the hallway, their hands exploring each other’s bodies. They both get hotter and sweatier when Y/N opens her mouth wider and darts her tongue out to meet his. He starts sucking her tongue and the slippery movement overpowers her senses and she whimpers- tries to whimper, while Harry alternates between sucking her tongue and messily licking into and around her mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses in between, “’m so obsessed with you I can jus’ kiss you all day.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Y/N replies and the words sound muffled when Harry keeps planting open mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach on her face.

“Have I?” he mouths at her neck and catches the single droplet of sweat traveling towards her collarbones.

He sounds playful and it makes Y/N squirm under his touch. When she backs away, his eyes open and find hers.

“Which is why I want to have my way with you today,” she explains, as if to make a point. Her frown earns a chuckle from Harry.

Despite the teasing chuckle, Harry knows he’s fully hard now; he feels the stiffness in his briefs. He would normally object or challenge her as he knew how much it turned her on when he took control, manhandled her and pushed her around. But he knew better than to object to anything she said today. In fact, he could feel the tip of his cock twitching in his underwear and his balls felt bigger, heavier. He knew their sex life has been... stable lately. He was really stressed and he felt tired all the time. Thus, at Y/N’s wish, he would get on his knees and obey. He knew she deserved this and more.

When they reach the bedroom door, Y/N goes in first, guiding Harry after her. Harry looks at the bed and he frowns at the sight of various dark spots dotted on the sheet.

“What’s all this then, hm? What did you to while I was gone?” he asks despite knowing –guessing–what went on on those very sheets. She turns her face and gives him a smirk.

“I’ll show you,”

“Fuck, baby,” he begins but no other word leaves his mouth other than his heavy breaths.

She begins taking off her t-shirt while trying to maintain as much eye contact as possible. The purposefully delayed movement makes him swallow and Y/N’s eyes dart to his Adam’s apple, her pussy getting wetter by the second. Harry’s watches her like a hawk, his hand moving to the area where he needs some attention the most. His cock gives another twitch when the edges of her top touches her boobs and the hasty movement makes them jiggle. At the sight, another profanity leaves Harry’s mouth and Y/N giggles quietly.

When she sees him rubbing his cock through his trousers, she tuts and grabs his arm.

“No touching. I’ll give it to you in a minute baby.”

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me. Jus’ do something... please baby girl,” he nothing but whimpers in front of her and Y/N guides him towards the bed.

He sits voluntarily on the bed and she places herself on his left thigh, where she knows his tiger tattoo is. He ‘aah’s in pleasure when Y/N’s pussy makes contact with the itchy fabric of his trousers and blood rushes to his poor cock, hidden away under his clothes still.

“Jesus, look at your boobs,” he mutters more to himself and Y/N moans softly when he squeezes one of them.

His trousers feel unbelievably arousing under her warm pussy. She thrusts her hips once to gain some fraction and Harry pinches her nipples.

“Fuck, take off my clothes, come on,” he begins with a throaty groan but Y/N’s acts before him.

She stands up as Harry’s trousers pools around his legs and her hands lifts his t-shirt swiftly and they’re now standing toe to toe, both of them bare with Harry only in his boxers.

“You gonna touch my cock? Play with it?” He speaks through his teeth, eyes full of lust.

“Huh, baby?” He repeats when Y/N busies herself with the briefs and in seconds, the briefs also find their place on the floor. His now fully hard cock makes a wet sound as it slaps against his belly and Y/N’s mouth waters at the sight of his now reddening tip and his large balls.

Harry kicks his underwear and grabs her neck like he did back in the hallway but this time with more pressure that it makes Y/N whimper.

But this time, Y/N doesn’t get to feel his warm lips against hers immediately. Instead, she opens her eyes to find Harry’s lips puckered.

He swallows and a muttered ‘fuck’ leaves his glistening mouth. “Open your mouth,” he commands and puckers his lips again.

And Y/N obliges immediately, as if she were waiting for the command for a long time.

When she opens, he comes near her and she gets a whiff of tobacco and his musky smell that she secretly finds arousing.

The spitting sound echoes inside the room as it lands directly on the back of her tongue and she quickly closes her mouth, swallowing his warm saliva.

“Mmm,”

“Yeah? You love it don’t you,” he touches her cheek and she leans into his palm.

“Yes, fuck yes. Baby I’m so wet,”

Harry grins and glances at her hard nipples that were begging to be played with. When he goes to do so, Y/N gently pushes her back on the bad and it makes him sit down with a huff.

“Now, I’ve been edging myself since this morning and I would really love it if you laid on the bed for me,” she requests, Harry’s eyes widening at the images coming in and out of his brain like a roll of film.

“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”

He lays on the bed as asked and gulps when Y/N places herself on top of her gracefully. As her left knee was coming to place itself next to his laid out thighs, it touches the edge of Harry’s cock and he lets out a whimper, the tip feeling like someone’s got their fingers around it and is squeezing it tight- so tight.

Y/N can’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Baby, come on,” he drawls, hands coming to squeeze her hips. “See how hard I am? Begging to be inside that warm cunt,” he mumbles as if he’s talking in his sleep, eyes almost closed due to the blood that is rushing to the tip of his cock.

She places her hands on top of his that were already on her hips.

“I’ll give it to you in a second,”

He fully opens his eyes like a kid who’s been promised their favourite sweet.

He shakes his head and groans at how hot the room was beginning to feel.

“Ah fuck, your tits are in my face, I don’t know how long I can go without comin’.”

She laughs and lifts her bottom half to free herself from the damp thong. When she throws the thong at him, another groan leaves the back of his throat.

“Bloody hell, baby.”

Harry brings the thong to his nose and sniffs the salty smell mixed with fabric softener and his cock gives another twitch.

When he opens his eyes again, Y/N’s placing her palms on his belly and he growls at her playing with the patch of hair on there.

“What’s the plan, hm?”

“I’m gonna spread my legs and rub your pink, hard cock with my wet pussy.”

At this, Harry covers his eyes with his tattooed arm and a cry leaves his mouth.

She grins at the effect she has on him and glances at his hard length laid against the dark patch of hair on his happy trail. The head of his cock was slightly tipped to the side and the sticky liquid was oozing from the slit.

Satisfied with the state of him, she takes his arm off of his face and sends him a smile. Harry can’t wait any longer and his hands immediately finds her boobs, squeezing them while hisses leaves his mouth at how large and soft they feel in his palms.

“Look at your tits... god,” he starts pinching and rolling the hardened nipples between his thumb and index finger. He rises upwards and takes one them in his mouth. He sucks on the nub and goes back and forth between biting and licking the delicate flesh. His saliva runs down his chin and finds Y/N’s belly.

“God, baby.”

“Lay back, come on,” Y/N encourages him and he hesitates for a moment before laying back on the bed.

When they make eye contact, she sees the hunger in his eyes. She can also tell how on edge he feels by the swollen tip of his cock.

She then takes one of his hands and brings it to her pussy, making him groan at the contact.

His digits meet with her wet pussy and she’s surprised at the remaining wetness. “Fucking hell, you’re close to dripping,” he rubs the slippery flesh, bringing his middle finger down where her hole is hidden and collects more of her arousal and brings them up. He spreads the wetness and she ‘aah’s.

“That’s it, come on, sit that cunt on my cock.”

As soon as her pussy touches his cock, they both whimper and another ‘fuck’ leaves Harry’s mouth as she begins rubbing herself on his cock. She starts slow, enjoying the way her pussy glided easily on her cock with the help of her arousal.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now, working that cunt on my cock,” he watches the tip of his cock appearing and disappearing with her movements.

“I love your cock,” she moans and brings her hands to her boobs, squeezing them. “Love your big cock so much. Love how it feels.”

“Fuck baby, keep humping that cock, come on.” He places his hands on Y/N’s while she plays with her boobs. “God, you’re a fuckin’ goddess, look at you.”

As Y/N leaves Harry to harshly squeeze her boobs and pinch her nipples, she keeps humping his cock back and forth. She glances down where they’re being interlocked and his wet, swollen tip getting lost between the lips makes her heart beat faster.

When she looks up, Harry’s watching where her gaze was, his fingers still pinching her nipples.

When she quickens the pace, the tip of his cock touches the spongy bit. The room is filled with slick, wet sounds.

“Ah shit,”

Without stopping her hips, she leans on his torso and gets close to Harry’s nipples. His hands fall from her breasts to her hips as he guides her through her thrusts and they make eye contact.

A breath leaves his parted mouth as Y/N gets closer to his left nipple and opens her mouth. When he understands the motivation behind her movement, he whimpers under her. She opens her mouth and lets the saliva drip down to his nipple and brings her thumb there, rubbing his dark, hardened nipple.

He can feel he’s close but he keeps groaning in pleasure as she decides to use her lips rather than her thumb. She sucks on the nub.

“Fuckin’ shit shit shit,”

“You like it?” she asks, her hot breath hitting his now wet nipple and a shiver runs down his whole body; especially his neglected balls that are being squeezed between his thick thighs.

“Fuck, yeah, I love it. Keep going, play with my nipples,”

Still humping his cock, she bites rather gently into the sensitive flesh and Harry’s mouth forms wordless sounds at the contact of her teeth.

“Harder,” he whimpers and his pink tongue darts out to dampen his dry lips. She obeys and bites harder, grinding her teeth left and right in hopes to hurt him just like he loved. Another gasp leaves his parted lips and Y/N makes a ‘mmm’ sound as she devours the hard nipple and licks around the area with the little patch of hair.

Still laying on his chest, his nipple in his mouth, she keeps humping back and forth. Harry feels the heat in his stomach when she keeps making little ‘uh’s and ‘ah’s sounds and he gives her ass a hard smack as a reward for being so good to him.

“You like that cock, huh,” he slaps her ass again and all he gets from her is another suck on his nipple and a nod.

When she sits up, Harry gazes at her wet pussy again and groans at the sight before his eyes.

Y/N’s pussy’s still going back and forth on his cock, her white-ish creamy arousal spreading everywhere near her now reddening heat.

“Jesus,” he keeps watching her pleasure both of them and he slaps gently at her wet pussy. Satisfied with the wet sound, Harry slaps again and Y/N moans.

He can feel the back of his fingers dampening with her arousal but before he has a chance to pull his hand away from her pussy, she takes it and brings it to his chest, coating his other nipple she didn’t suck on with her juices.

“Shit, you gonna lick it off?” he asks but closes his eyes for a second when he feels a pressure on his cock.

Y/N makes an affirmative sound and she comes close to press her tongue on the messy nipple. She spreads it around more with her tongue and bites into his nipple. Harry looks at her busy mouth and he groans at the sight of juices coating both her lips and his nipple.

When her hips slow down their movement on his cock, she rises again and her arm reaches back and starts massaging his swollen balls.

She grins when she feels his heavy balls in her palms and fondles with the patch of hair there.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum,”

“Yeah?”

He swears again and tries to lift his hips which makes her pussy press harder into his cock. “Yeah, ‘m definitely gonna cum. Keep playing with my balls baby, come on.”

“No,” she stops her movements and Harry feels like someone has pushed him to an edge of a cliff only to grab him by the neck and take him out of there. When she takes her hands off of his body, he groans.

"Are ya fuckin' kidding me?"

"We're not done yet,"

The sweat from their bodies mix together when she lays on his chest and Harry's pink lips are still forming 'ah's and 'uh's when he feels his dick still between her wet cunt.

"If you dare move that pussy I'll cum I'm not even jokin' babe," he mutters and throws an arm over his face, pressing it on his forehead. When she laughs, she frowns harder and she lifts up her pelvis to free his dick from between where it was.

He hisses when the warm heat leaves his dick and is now exposed to some cool air.

She looks at him with a tiny smile on her lips.

"Now," she gulps and uses her knees to sit on where his laurels are.

Due to having thicker thighs than most, it takes her a while to find a position on her upper torse where her pussy can moderately touch either his belly or stomach. When she looks down, she bites her lips at the sight of the hair following a trail towards his dick and his belly button.

"Argh, you're so fuckin' hot I can't believe I didn't put my cock in that warm cunt for three days," he clears his throat. "You were desperate, huh? Gonna sit on my face?"

"Noooo," she whispers and it makes him frown. "'m gonna rub my dripping pussy on your belly."

He turns his head to the other side and whimpers at the image of her dripping cunt rubbing his belly. He imagines the juices coating his upper torso and it makes his ears ring, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the sheets.

When he manages to look at her through drunk eyes, she's starting to rub herself on him.

An 'oh my God' leaves his mouth as Y/N gets ready to quicken her pace.

"Fuck, your belly is so hot, I wanted to rub my little pussy on it since forever."

"Oh fuck, keep going."

"You like it?" She muses and he groans even more because how could he not like this? "You like seeing my juices all over that belly, huh,"

At that, he glances at where she's working her magic. When her pussy's going back, he sees the wet, sticky trail it's leaving on Harry's belly and when she moves her hips forward, she's collecting all the wetness back. It's making Harry crazy.

In between moans and her little squeals, Harry brings his hands up to her boobs again and starts massaging them. He touches the sensitive nipples and squeezes them harshly.

Y/N keeps the pace and goes back and forth on his belly. She's certain she can feel some of the hair on his happy trail tickling her pussy when she meets them with her thrusts.

"Oh my God, 'm so close baby,"

"Yeah, ya gonna cum on my belly? Leave your mark all over me?" he says and hisses at the cool hair hitting the wetness on his belly whenever her pussy's not touching the area.

Harry stops playing with her nipples and brings his hand to her pussy, wanting to feel the wetness on his hands too. He places his thumb on the clit and Y/N whines. Her pussy's so wet that it's making unholy sounds when it rubs back and forth and Harry can feel the bubbling of her juices on her thumb when he presses harder at her clit.

"Good girl, my good fuckin' girl,"

"I wanna come so bad," she whines and it almost sounds like she's hurting.

When she feels something bubbling in her chest, she brings her hand back like before and tries to find his balls with messy movements. As soon as she touches his balls, Harry hisses and his hands go to her hips, squeezing them.

"Want me to cum with ya? That what ya want?"

"Yeah," she whines and keeps massaging his balls. "Want your cum on my ass when I keep riding your belly, Daddy."

At the image, Harry gives out another throaty groan and squeezes her hips harder, making sure to leave his handprints on the flesh.

"Ah fuck, go on then."

As soon as she squeezes her palm holding his balls, his cock starts spurting white strings of hot cum. Just like Y/N wished, some of the strings land on her ass while she keeps rubbing her pussy on his belly.

Their moans fill the room and Harry brings her right hand to her bum and slaps, making the cum transfer onto his hands and he brings it up her back, spreading some of his cum on her back. When she doesn't slow down her thrusts on his belly, he brings the same hand to her wet cunt and slaps it carefully so that it can land where she needs it the most. At that, a cry leaves her mouth and she starts moving sloppily on him. Harry immediately grabs her by the hips and brings her pussy closer to where his belly button is as she keeps creaming on him even more now that her movements are slower.

She keeps rubbing sloppily and she 'ah's and 'uh's until she slows down and stops completely.

"Fuckin' shit, you put God to shame. Look at you, baby."

He brings her hand up to her face and strokes her cheeks and she leans into it.

When they look down, there's a string of her arousal in his belly button and Harry groans at the sight. They make eye contact and Y/N dips her index finger in his belly button and collects as much as she can and Harry jerks his hips upwards at the touch, feeling his balls fill up again.

He watches in awe as she brings the finger close to his mouth and spreads it around his parted lips messily. He can taste some of it and he hums at the salty taste.

"Look at your lips coated with my cum," she says and brings her beautiful face closer to him. Harry lays still, mouth still parted.

She finally comes close enough and presses her lips to his and a wet sound fills the room as they both try to taste the cum that is now on both of their lips. She licks into his mouth and he feels the salty taste on his own tongue as they suck each other's tongues. She kisses her upper lip and bites his bottom harshly, making him whine as his cock gives a twitch from where he was laying peacefully on his thigh.

"Jesus, you're a messy girl aren't ya," he mostly states rather than questioning her and she chuckles into his mouth.

"You fucking love it messy.”

"Fuck yeah I do." He links his arms around her waist and Y/N presses a kiss to his sweaty neck.

When she pulls the hair on his chest, a hiss leaves his mouth and Y/N chuckles.

“You finished me,” he opens his eyes and she smiles at the state of him, his hair dampened with sweat and some beads traveling down his face, pooling near his nose.

“Literally,”

When they finally come down from cloud nine, they’re all smiles and giggles as Y/N presses one last kiss to his lips first and then his nipple before she gets off of him and lays face down next to him.

He starts making ‘mmm’ sounds as if he’s eating the most delicious meal of his life and she slaps his chest.

“Oi, the cum!”

“Yeah, ‘s on my hands now.” She giggles and makes a show of licking the salty liquid.

She glances at his softening cock that lays against his thigh and takes a deep breath. When they make eye contact, Harry grabs her by the chin and brings their mouths together. They kiss despite their sweaty faces and the smell of cum and musk surrounding their bodies.

“I’m so obsessed with you ‘s actually quite scary sometimes," he whispers into her mouth when they part and she smiles.

When she gives his nose a loud kiss, a surprised chuckle leaves his mouth.

It's peaceful for another minute.

“So...” He starts, his hands caressing her bum and slowly parting the cheeks. She cuts him off, knowing what’s coming after.

“Nope, not gonna happen,”

“But babe-” his index finger toys with the pink hole hidden between her buttcheeks.

“Nah, not letting you fuck my ass. Now, run us a bath will ya.”

* * *

* *

send your thoughts!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #my writing #harry smut #harrysgucciloafers

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falling-pages · 3 years

Text

A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

TW: Drinking

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

-- - -- -- - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

#ouran high school host club #hikaru x haruhi #hikaharu #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #enemies to lovers #ohshc

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syndianites · 3 years

Text

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter One

Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary: Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe's character could have developed]

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tap tap tap of nails on a desk was all Chloe could think about as she blankly stared at the board in front of her. This all was tiring. Notes were tiring. School was tiring. English was tiring. How could someone be expected to sit still and pay attention to something so boring for hours on end?

Movement in her purse reminded her that it was what good students do. Sit and pay attention. Do their own work. Put in their own effort.

Chloe grit her teeth.

Well it was too hard! Being a better person shouldn’t mean taking notes and being studious in class! It should mean saving people from getting hit by a car, or stopping people from kicking puppies, or having people look to her for inspiration! Not this boring shit.

Surreptitiously, she took a deep breath.

It was all going to be worth it, she reminded herself. If she had to sit still and be a good student and do all her work herself, it would be nothing compared to being a superheroine.

But as she grew more restless, her mind wandered towards what got her into this situation in the first place....

///////

One might have called it a stroke of luck to find a magical item on the sidewalk. Of course, after a day as shitty as that, anything positive would be considered lucky. Such was not the case for Chloe.

She didn’t know what it was at first and had almost passed it by when she second guessed herself. It looked old, but well cared for. Most of all, the box looked priceless and a quick peek into the box showed a luxurious comb.

Her mom had walked away with a dismissive ‘Come along, Cassandra,’ which had her shutting the box and hurrying to not be left behind.

A limo ride later and she found herself back in her room, ignored by her mother and forgotten by her father as he fussed over Audrey. Typical. But sure, her mom furiously turns her dearest Adrien into a gold statue, then does the same to Chloe when she tries to help him!

Chloe pursed her lips. It’s not like Audrey would have remembered how close she was to Adrien after being away for so long. If she had, surely she would have spared poor Adrikins? Her hands tightened into fists.

Except, she was still holding something.

The box with the comb. It had slipped her mind as she’d arrived home. Barely made a dent against the sickening feeling that curled up in her stomach as her mother hemmed and hawed, not sparing even a glance at her daughter she’d betrayed.

Which was fine. She’d been akumatized. Surely the stress and aftermath of being taken into Hawkmoth’s fold would cause her to forget about her beloved daughter. Later, when Audrey had properly taken her wrath out onto the proper people, she would come up and fuss over Chloe and ensure she was alright.

Or she’d send her daddy to do it.

Returning her attention back to the box, she lifted the lid once more. It was a lovely shade of golden yellow, with black detailing. Upon closer look, taking in the fine detail of what seemed to be insect wings, Chloe realized that she was looking at a beautifully crafted bee comb.

She ran a delicate finger on the edge of the comb only to be met with blinding light. Cringing away, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes. When the light dissipated, she glanced up.

The box and comb clattered to the floor.

A bee was floating in front of her.

A bee with a big head, and big eyes, and arms, and a big stinger, and Oh. My. God.

She screamed.

///////

Eyes flicked towards the window to catch the dying rays of dusk. A trembling hand brought a delicate porcelain mug up to a man’s face. He finished off the now lukewarm tea and let it sit for a moment.

Peering into the remains, he observed the major remnants of the tea leaves. Lazy, wavy lines dominated the cup, with a scattering of imperfect triangles. Finally, a grouping of mountains to one side.

Master Fu hummed in thought.

“What do you think of the fate of the Bee, Master?” Wayzz spoke up from where he sipped his own drink.

Turning back to the nearly navy darkness of the sky, Fu replied, “We will have to see, my friend. Only time will tell us now.”

///////

“Please calm down My Queen. Surely Ladybug informed you of what you needed to know?” Pollen reassured quickly. Except, the small being felt something was off. She was floating safely in an apartment with a girl she’d never seen before, no akuma in sight or mind. Her Chosen was clearly surprised to see her.

And there was no Ladybug in sight.

Still, she kept a smile on her face.

“What are you! What do you mean Ladybug told me what I need to know? Wait,” Chloe broke off with a gasp, “Are you how Ladybug gets her powers?”

Ah, a red flag.

Pollen was plenty aware that Ladybug had chosen her to assist in an akuma fight. If she had not been delivered by Ladybug then something must be amiss. For now, she would watch her words carefully.

“No, My Queen. But I am an ally of Ladybug,” Pollen continued. “I am here to help grant another the power to assist Ladybug and Chat Noir in their quest to defeat akumas and stop Hawkmoth.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean I get to be a superheroine? I knew it! I knew Ladybug would see she needed my help!”

Pollen stopped her there, “On the contrary, My Queen. With Ladybug absent it is my duty to uphold order and ensure you are a good fit to be bestowed my power. Since there is no immediate threat, I see fit to judge your character as you go about your day.”

“What!” The girl griped at her, “Clearly Ladybug knew what she was doing. If you can make me become a superhero I demand you do it!.”

There was a harsh pull in her gut and Pollen fought to bite her words back. She knew she had to obey her holder, but she also knew enough to pull through some loopholes. Poor Nooroo has been stuck in a terrible enslavement for far too long for the rest of the kwami to not prepare for such an occasion.

“You must be a good person to be a superhero, first.” The pull in her gut lessened, but remained. “If you can prove to me you are worthy of holding my power, I will make you a superhero.”

Pollen received a scoff in reply. “I am a good person! Just ask anyone at all. My daddykins always tells me I’m doing good, so why wouldn’t I be?”

The pull began to intensify again. Worry started to drum through her. If Pollen couldn’t convince this person to let her check her history first, she wouldn’t have time to find and return to Ladybug- or, at least, inform Ladybug who possessed her Miraculous.

A low, angry buzz started in her chest. A Queen never let her hive be hurt by her own actions. If she did not stop this girl now, she could harm the rest of her kind, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And, well, who was she to let that happen.

She faked a sigh, “Yes, of course My Queen. Now listen closely.” Pollen risked floating closer to the girl, who leaned in in response. For a moment, she felt bad. The girl seemed earnest enough, if conceited and arrogant. A good Queen would have these traits in modesty, just enough to benefit and little enough to avoid harm. Then the pull in her gut worsened and she chose to make her move.

With a sweet smile, Pollen leaned forward slowly. Then she turned in a swift movement and struck the poor girl in the junction between her left arm and shoulder. The girl let out a choked screech before her body came to a full stop, paralyzed.

Floating back so that she could be seen in full view, Pollen gave a more genuine smile. “That, my Queen, is one of my powers. Immobilization. Now,” she paused, watching the girl’s eye twitch for a split second. “You will listen to me. My first loyalty is to Ladybug. If you are not fit to be her ally, I will not allow you to use my Miraculous. From what I can tell, you stumbled upon my Miraculous by chance.”

A quiet part of her whispered that Master Fu could have had a hand in this, but she dismissed it.

“Ladybug chose me to help her with the latest akuma, and they are gone. However, I am willing to give you a chance. While I serve both my Master and Ladybug, I am my own being. If you can prove you are good enough to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, I will grant you my power to help them. If not, I will reclaim my Miraculous and return to Ladybug, telling her that you are not fit to wield any such Miraculous.”

Pollen clasped her hands behind her back and puffed up her chest, portraying an image of regality in such a small body. “So I will offer you a deal. You will not ask me to make you into a hero. You will not order me to do anything. Most importantly, you will not reveal me or my Miraculous to anyone other than Ladybug or Chat Noir, or my Master. In return, I will spend time with you to decide whether you are fit to be my holder- and if you are, I will see to it that you are trained and informed as much as I can do for you before you go into the fight with Ladybug and Chat Noir. If at any point you break this deal I will immediately take my Miraculous back and you will never be allowed to see it again.”

She lowered her eyes to look down upon the still frozen girl. “Do you accept the terms of the deal?”

The girl, for her part, didn’t move. Rather, her anger and impetulant thoughts swirled in her head. While Pollen was no Kwami of Emotion or Mind, she could feel her inner chaos. As the girl realized that she would not be set free unless she made the deal, her fire wore down.

Pollen broke out into a smile. She floated forward, ready to let her free of her grasp. This was a risk. If she didn’t accept the deal, this girl could turn the tides on her in an instant. If the girl realized she could command her to do whatever she wanted, it would be over. Just under her display of confidence, fear swam in her stomach.

But she was nothing if not determined. With a tap to the young lady’s face, she was unfrozen.

For a moment, the girl fumbled over her words,” I- you- how did you- how dare you!”

When Pollen pointedly swept down to pick up her Miraculous and floated back, the girl stopped.

In her head, her mind ran on the idea of being a hero. Being beside Ladybug. Being loved by all of Paris. Being good enough for her Mother to remember her name. This was her chance! Her chance to change everything! To prove herself! If she just said yes and passed the stupid little test, she would get to be a hero.

Besides, she could bend and break the deal if she needed to.

Brushing down her capris, the girl stood up straight. With all the dignity she learned from being the child of the mayor, she calmly spoke, “I accept your deal.”

Pollen fought down a crushing smile. Instead, she reached a paw forward to shake on it. The girl, to her credit, only eyed her a moment before giving a finger to shake.

“Excellent. My name is Pollen. For the next twenty-four hours I will be watching you go about your life as normal to determine if you are deserving of my power.”

“Well, Pollen, I am Chloe Bourgeois, Ladybug’s closest ally, I can assure you that you will find nothing but good things about me!”

////////

Above the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, a sleep-deprived girl sat up hastily working through homework as the night ticked on. Perhaps from the late hour, or her finally caving under all the stress of her life, she felt like laughing. Giggles escaped her to the alarm of a sleepy Tikki beside her.

“Marianette, are you okay?” The kwami asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Marianette stifled a laugh. “I just suddenly had the thought that something super funny happened.”

Tikki shook her head disapprovingly. “You need to sleep. Staying up this late is not good for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, “It has been way too long a day after losing the Bee miraculous.”

Tikki patted her shoulder in sympathy as Marianette got up and began her bed routine.

A long day indeed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #chloe bourgeois #pollen (ladybug)#ml fanfic #ml

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eirikrjs · 3 years

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Adramelech is such a beautiful horse person. 😍 What do you think?

Hooooo boy.

There's a story to this because of course Adramelech has been the poster boy for how good Doi can actually be. But this was when he was just a piece of static art and experienced by someone like me who turns voice acting off a lot of the time (proven by the stream as I am consistently floored by some of 4A's English delivery).

Now with the upgraded presentation and their choices, I’m torn. The idea that Adramelech is gay-coded because he’s Lucifer’s wardrobe manager was always there but it was easy to ignore as “just art” and with fairly straightforward dialogue. But now they are choosing to entirely define Adramelech as “fabulous” gay as part of his visual identity.

Honestly, the dance and animation are fantastic. But there’s just something that gets to me about this kind of stereotyping. Simply, I think it’s creatively lazy to make the fashion guru gay. Not every gay man guest hosted Queer Eye. And so far it’s not a negative stereotype or anything, Adramelech isn’t a predator or similar. It’s just a matter of picking the low-hanging fruit and amplifying it as if it’s somehow unique or special.

Then there’s the pan itself, which has always been a minor blemish on the design to me since 1. Doi’s reference for the design was likely a low-res reproduction of the Dictionnaire art that was on Adram’s JP Wikipedia page for the longest time and 2. instead of seeking other sources with better detail to make out his magnifying glass, he turned it into a Japanese-style pan. While at the time I felt like this was a giveaway that his overall frame of references was limited, now the pan is also amplified as part of his identity. It sure is something.

I would usually say that the animations/alternate visual presentations shouldn’t factor into as assessment of a demon’s design but SMT is totally emphasizing it (for newly modeled demons only, of course). I’d say it’s to the point of going overboard and, honestly, and I’m definitely going to use the short animations. I’ve already lived through enough long Final Fantasy summon animations. It’s a time apart from Nocturne’s quick battle animations (which will make the old demons look “boring” in comparison).

A good animation can enhance a design, as such as Baphomet only doing the “as above, so below” pose of his Levi art in his animation. But Adramelech’s will be a slight irritation for me for the reasons above. Idun is similar; the design is mediocre and as art there’s not much more to say about it but the motivations behind it and her “idol” dancing will just make me roll my eyes.

It’s a new 3D era for SMT and with it comes new ways of lending character to demons, for better or worse.

(gifs by @b-reis)

EDIT: ADDITIONAL CONTEXT FOR THE PAN

With @dijeh‘s help, we found (re-found?) the type of pan Adramelech holds:

This is according to Doi’s own comment: it’s a hinoshi, an iron for getting wrinkles out of clothes! So that’s a bit more clever than I thought. It’s still inexplicable to me, though, for a European demon to use a Japanese instrument. I guess Dagda imported it for him while he was in Japan for the Krishna short story.

#smt5 #adramelech #masayuki doi

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can��t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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ikevamp-shrine · 3 years

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Thank you @yanderepuck for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance:

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes:

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes:

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality:

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company:

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary.

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevamp oc #ikemen vampire oc #ikevam oc #elizabeth tudor #Ikevamp Elizabeth #ikemen vampire Elizabeth #ikevam Elizabeth

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nachohypno · 3 years

Text

Pine’s Football Jocks (Rewritten!) - Ch. 3

Past Pine’s POV

I could barely sleep that night. Not because of nightmares or stress, or anything bad at all-

It was because Garrett- (Wait, I can call him Gary now!) Gary sent me a two minutes-long video playing with his body, cock included. It wouldn’t be a big deal normally, except that this is like the first nude I’ve ever gotten and I feel like it’s a big deal.

Sure, I ‘ordered’ him to make it and send it, but it’s still really exciting!

I was replaying it for like the millionth time, I wasn’t keeping track of how many times I’ve seen this video but it never got old.

The video showed Gary posing shirtless, flexing his arms and torso for the camera, before laying down on his bed and playing with his hard cock. It’s quite impressive how he managed to achieve that body size and definition, but it seemed proper since I think a linebacker needs to be big and strong?

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgotten about all the shit he did to me and I’d like to have some payback time soon. But for now, this was enough to calm my ‘rage’.

Gary is silent for most of the video, except for when he softly moans whenever he’ll grab his own cock. I should change that for future videos, maybe some naughty talk can make it even better. But sadly, he was off to bed already. So it was just me, Gary’s video and…

[Hey, bro???]

Mike’s message from hours ago. He must be off to bed by now already, but let me see…

[Wanna chat?? U wont believe this match I just won-] I stopped reading, went out of the chat and focused again on Gary’s video. So nice looking pecs, great abs, that hard cock. Ooooof, it was making me hard all over again.

Putting a lot of will power though, I decided to put the phone down for the night (Finally, because it was almost 1 am) and went over to my bed.

‘Tomorrow will be even better. I know it’ I told myself, smiling as I closed my eyes while imagining myself playing with Gary’s body in person again.

----

Present Pine’s POV

I decided to start reading this thing before reading them out loud to Mikey, to make sure there’s nothing that’ll make him feel bad. Senior year was just a bitch, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

I don’t plan on rewriting what happened to make a ‘Mike-friendly’ version because these are my memories, twisting them around would miss the complete point of writing them down in the first place. I just wanted to be able to remember how we got here without missing any details, and he wanted to hear the full story. Maybe I can just skip some of the rougher scenes when he appears?

Like, I’m not an angel either. I guess I was just a bit too rough back before the ‘golden rule’ was a thing, so up until then, the wiser thing to do would be review this thing and separate the unnecessary parts from the important ones, that way I’m telling a good story and I’m leaving the unimportant stuff out.

I gave a huge sigh of relief. This was going to be much easier than what I thought. Looking up, I noticed the big guy finished his shower and was trying to untie the bag around his cast while he walked on a towel around his waist.

I was kind of surprised it didn’t fall off, since he was having a bit of trouble with the bag. “Need any help, big boy?”

Mike looked at me, a little smile appearing on his face. “Oh, uh… Sure thing!” It’s been quite a while and he still had a rough time getting used to the cast. Luckily, it was supposedly going to be taken off in a few weeks, if everything goes right.

Leaving my laptop aside again, I got up and walked over to him. Mike extended his injured arm and I began to untie the bag. “What’cha doin over there?” He asked, looking at the laptop with a bit of confusion in his face. “Is it story time already?”

It was funny. I thought about this as a little way to distract him from… reality and stuff, you know, and he ended up taking it as a new part of his schedule. Even calling it ‘story time’ now, apparently.

“I mean,” I mumbled, almost finishing with the bag. “We can have story time now if you’d like. I was just checking the stuff to come, to decide how I should divide the chapters and that kind of thing.” The bag came off his arm, and he extended it a bit.

The jock leaned in and smooched me on the lips, before mumbling a little “Thanks, bro”. It made me smile, and feel all warm and nice. “And sure, I’d love to have story time now! Been a few days already, but didn’t wanna push you to read without you bringin’ it up first…” He scratched the back of his head, looking away with a nervous smile.

“Don’t worry,” I said, putting the bag aside before looking back at him. “Today was a pretty tame day, so we can definitely do some good story time. Wat’cha think, big boy?”

“That’s a new one. The ‘Big boy’ I mean. I like it. I like you…” He leaned in for another kiss, but I grabbed him by the hand before he could reach me, thinking about dragging him to the couch. That seemed to become the perfect place for story time. Well, that and our bed, but we have used the couch more and it was closer at the moment.

What? I can be lazy too!

But first… “Aww. Well, time to drop deep, big boy.” I told him, examining his face as I watched his eyes become glassy, and his mouth turn into a dumb smile.

“Yussss, bruh…” He managed to answer, completely under already.

I looked at him, his hunk body at full display, except for the part beneath the towel. I would normally tell him to dress up first, but I knew the guy wasn’t getting much action lately. Or, barely any action at all.

The cast on his arm apparently got into his way of flirting, and it doesn’t seem like girls around campus want to have fun with ‘the broken quarterback’. That’s the cruel nickname he got, and I plan on giving him a triumphant return once his arm gets better.

I have a hunch his arm will be ready to play football again soon, but I prefer to be 100% and ask a real doctor. I don’t want my best friend to end up with a worse injury because I forced him to play or something.

“Drop that towel, too” I ordered him, and he slowly moved his hand to the towel, undoing it as the gravity took effect. Soon, Mikey stood in front of me in all of his naked glory. Cock semi hard on display, I started dragging him with me towards the couch.

I sat down, and I told him to do the same. After grabbing the laptop and opening the story file again, I looked over at Mike and mumbled a nice “Wake up now, sleepy boy”.

His expression returned to his face, but quickly replaced by confusion as he was now in a different spot. “What…?”

“It’s okay, just lay down and enjoy the story time. Got it, big boy?” I leaned in and gave him a good kiss. He kissed back, sloppy tongue and all, but of course I had the lead on the make out session.

If we didn’t have the story time about to start, I would have thrown the laptop off my lap and jumped on top of the muscular jock.

But… gotta do what I gotta do. I stopped the kiss, caressed his face, and then turned my gaze to the screen as he laid down next to me.

“So… Where were we…”

-----

Past Pine’s POV

I’ve had an amazing day.

Still not used to the whole ‘powers’ thing, I missed the opportunity to make Garrett drive me to school. However, that was on my plans. I wanted to make the most out of my new-found mind control power!

Sadly, now that I wanted to encounter a jock so badly, it seemed like they were the ones hiding from me now. The few ones I saw (That I share classes with, at least) seemed to ignore me or not notice me at all. Which is nice but… I kind of wanted to try this thing out, okay?

Noticing Gary walking over with a few of his teammates behind him, I took a deep breath and remained in place. I don’t know if they saw me either, but there was a surprising and greatly appreciated lack of shoving today! My arm was grateful.

Mike was the last guy to leave the classroom, because he was a slow writer sometimes, so he needed to stay a few minutes more and get his stuff down to paper. Otherwise, the teachers would get very mad at him for ‘not paying attention’.

“Oh. Hey bro,” Mike said, giving me a warm smile before stopping at my side. I was staring at the passing-by jocks in front of us, and the big guy took some time to greet them as they passed by. “Huh, they looked pretty friendly today. Towards you, I mean…”

“I think so, yeah.” I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about Gary being my friend now. Of course, the slave part was off the question, no-one could know about this nor anything related to my newfound superpower. That raised the question if I could erase memories by commanding that…

Lots of experimenting will give me the answer, I hope!

“Phew, glad to hear that” My former best friend patted my back. “I was getting kinda worried yesterday when I didn't get a reply. Y’know I can see when you’re online, right?”

I rolled my eyes. It was kind of annoying how he would pretend everything was fine and nothing ever happened. Even after a month or so of barely talking.

“But hey. I have the evening free after football practice, in case you want to come over and… y’know, play some smash or something” I got to admit that watching him act all nervous just because he was talking to me was a bit funny. It made me let out an internal ‘Aww’.

“Uhm… Sorry, got a study session prepared after football practice. So-”

“Wait, what?” Mike opened his eyes wide in surprise. “Are you tutoring someone from the team? Who is it? Huh, that was a quick solution to the… uh… thing”

Ignoring that last dumb comment, I answered with a “Garrett practically begged me to help him with his homework and a few more things. We made a deal, no more bullying in exchange for passing his classes”

I made up the story at the moment, and I surprised myself with how quickly I came up with that.

The jock placed a hand on my shoulder, a look of concern on his face. “If he tries something bad…”

“He’s pretty nice, actually” Now I was just being an asshole. “He dropped the ‘faggot’ nickname and treated me nicely yesterday. I was kind of scared, but he really surprised me.” I shrugged, trying to look like I didn’t care at all.

Of course, I was making it up. I can’t just tell Mike that I randomly managed to control Garrett’s mind and apparently turned him into a slave. I had proof that it hadn’t been a dream, since Gary sent me a video playing with his body and I checked it out again this morning.

“I don’t think we’re talking about the same Garrett…” Mike started. It was nice of him to get worried, but everything was under control. Besides, I was still mad at him even though the problem was now solved, but it wouldn’t hurt to teach him that actions have consequences.

‘I’m an awful friend’ I thought, but the thought was shrugged off quickly when Gary approached us.

The mean jock punched my shoulder in a rough but friendly way, which caused Mike to shoot a glare at him, but still not move. It hit different now, not hurting as much as before and being kind of… Glad that he didn’t jump on Garrett’s jugular now.

I mean, it’s just like when you get a new toy and you don’t want anyone to break it.

“Hey bros. Wat’chu talking bout?”

Mike and Gary weren’t really fond of each other. The tension could be felt as I was trapped between them, Mike still glaring at Gary and the latter trying to ignore him by staring down at me. It was funny how Gary is supposed to be bigger than Mike, due to him being the linebacker.

Truth is, they are almost the same size, Gary surpassing my childhood friend by a bit more of muscular definition. Mike doesn’t look bad, but I know he’s fully natural. Meanwhile, I still suspect Garrett is on steroids.

“Uh… I was about to ask Pine here if he wanted to come over and play some smash,” I could practically feel how Mikey was hoping for Garrett to not jump in the wagon and ask to join. “So… What do you think, bro?”

I was going to answer him that I was busy. That was my usual excuse when Mike wanted to hang out. I was still not ready to hang out with him again, I needed a bit more time to calm down, now that Garrett wasn’t a problem anymore. There were still the other football guys, so that was a thing to take care of.

“Can’t do, bro. Lil’ Pine here and I got a study session, gotta take all those maths and shit in.” Garrett answered for me, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me a bit. It sounded a bit rougher than what I intended, but it did the dirty work for me, I guess.

“Well, how about after your study session? We barely hang out anymore…”

I gotta give it to the guy, he was actually pushing for it this time. I appreciated that.

“Sure, if we finish the studying thing quickly, I’ll head over to your place.” I patted Mike’s back, and he smiled faintly.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Gonna be practicing my fighting skills!” My jock friend seemed excited, all of a sudden. “Gonna get going now, but hey, see you later!”

Gary and I watched as he turned around and started walking away. He seemed happier now, but Gary had a look of disgust on his face. “He’s kind of annoying, bro. I don’t know how you put up with him”

“Hey, don’t talk about him like that. Just because we discussed doesn’t mean you can trash talk my best friend, got it? Besides, it’s your fault we even discussed in the first place” No, it wasn’t. Mike went around telling my business to his teammates. But Garrett played a part in me being really mad at Mikey, so he did have a bit -lots- of guilt.

The glassy eyes returned, as he mumbled a quick ‘Yeees, bro…” before his face returned to normal. “Uhm, sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you, bro”

“It’s… okay. Should we get going? That ‘study session’ won’t get done by itself.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself cool.

“Yeeaaaah… So… About the studying thing…” The big jock scratched the back of his head, a somewhat childish grin on his face. “I invited a friend over”

“You did what?” I was, of course, going to scold him! How could he be so… Irresponsible! I tried to keep my cool as best as I could, because I couldn’t show that I was Gary’s ‘master’ at school.

“Please don’t be mad, but he’s coming right up to leave with us…”

“This is the tutor dude, right?” A guy said behind me. I recognized that voice…

Slowly turning around, I took a moment to observe my classmate. Brent had short hair, almost a military cut. He used to keep it long but according to Mikey, his dad made him cut it and he’s kept it like this ever since.

A bit smaller than Gary, but still displaying a good physique, Brent was wearing a green shirt and jeans. His varsity jacket was tied to his bag, which I couldn’t understand. Those things are GREAT! They look really good, they are warm and cozy, AND they make the wearer 10 times hotter, like some kind of rpg armor with special stats.

I know what I’m talking about, when Mike got his varsity jacket I would ask him to let me wear it just because it’s cozy and keeps me warm in winter. The big guy was happy to do so, but he really adores his varsity jacket so I couldn’t keep it away from him for too long.

Back to the ‘extra student’ situation, though!

I was unsure if I should take Brent in. He was… okay. I mean, personality wise. I don’t keep tabs on which jocks go after me and how much they do, it’s usually peer pressure and if I go into that, I’ll have more revenge to do than the Green Arrow.

‘You’ve failed this nerd’ and then I enslave them. Hehe.

And if we go by appearance wise, the guy is hot. Most of the football guys will be hot for me, because I like big guys and they go through some rough training. Even the shortest guy has a nice build, it was surprising.

“Pine. My name is Pine” I stated, not really annoyed at being called ‘tutor dude’ but if I was going to help him, then I expected some degree of respect.

“Cool. Brent.” He extended his hand, and I shook it. I kind of expected him to be all rough about it and crush my hand, but he was quite gentle. That earned him some points.

“Uhm… What do you need help with…? I got to know what I’m going to help you with before we actually get on it.” It was logic, I’m not going to wait until we’re at Gary’s house. Not that it would matter much but… Hey, maybe I can do some good with my powers.

Y’know, proving I’m better than these guys by helping them, alongside having my little payback?

It’s also a good testing ground for my powers, to see if I can make them somehow smarter. Huh, it just sounds better and better.

“Math. My bro told me you were helping him with it yesterday and I really, really need some help before the exams. I ain’t really on edge with my grades, but I don’t wanna risk it.” Glad to hear Gary has been using the excuse I told him to use.

“Hmm. All right then, let’s get going and I’ll do my best to help you with that” I tried to sound cold, but again it fell flat. And Brent just didn’t seem to care.

He looked at Gary and said “Huh, you were right, bro. This guy’s a life-saver!”

“See? Told ya. We kinda made a deal and I’m leaving him intact as long as he helps me, so maybe he’ll extend that deal to you and you won’t need to pay!” I kind of wanted to kick Gary’s nuts right about now, but kept it to myself.

I don’t know if I could make Brent my slave as easily as I did with the first one, so I was really hoping Gary would shut up until I figured things out.

We set on our way after that, walking towards the exit and then towards Gary’s car. I sat on the back seat this time, since I figured the new jock would like to sit with his teammate on the front.

But then, it struck me.

“Hey Brent. Sit on the back with me, will you?” I said, in a commanding voice. If this didn’t work, I would have earned myself a beat up.

“Sure, why not” was his answer. I didn’t see his face, but I don’t that was just him being nice at the tutor dude. He totally glazed out when I ordered him!

There was a bit of a gap between us, as we sat on the opposite sides of the seat. Gary didn’t seem to care about the situation at all, he sat on the driver’s seat and just waited for us to be ready. Once we were done, he turned on the car and drove off.

I looked at Brent, trying to figure out what to do now that I… ‘made’ him sit on the back seat with me.

Moving closer to him, I tried something out. “Uh… Brent,” I figured it would be important to state his name, this way Gary wouldn’t get confused and get the command as his own. “Don’t mind at all what I’m about to do; It’s totally normal and you’re okay with it.”

This time, I did look at his face. Eyes glazed over, and he slurred a “Yeeaah…”.

Awesome.

I moved my hand and lifted his shirt up. His body was pretty nice, and I didn’t hesitate to feel him up. I was getting the hold of this ‘controlling guys’ thing!

My hand went down, until it rested on top of the jock’s crotch. Brent just stared through the window, not caring about what was I doing. This. Is. The. Best.

I kind of wanted to undo his pants and grab his package, but I think it would be better if I left that for later. I had a little idea, and I wanted to see it play out instead of just rushing things.

I did have a little idea, in the meantime. “Wrap an arm around my shoulders” And Brent did so, while still not paying attention, apparently. It was warm and it felt good, so that was enough to satiate my hunger for control, heh.

I noticed Garrett looked at us through the driving mirror and asked “Huh, getting comfortable back there, aren’t ya?”

That’s when Brent looked down at me, noticing he was hugging me. I thought he was going to pull back, but he didn’t. “Yeah, I guess so. You don’t mind, right dude?”

I shrugged. “It’s kinda nice. Pull me closer and hug me tight.”

“Okay.” It felt even warmer now, and I loved it. The fact that he’s totally oblivious or doesn’t care about it makes it kind of hotter, but I’d prefer to have him like Gary was just yesterday. Waiting for orders with a big smile on his face.

“You don’t think this is weird?”

“I would, normally. But I want to do this, otherwise I’d tell you to go fuck yourself” Quite straightforward, but I didn’t mind. It helped me think that whenever I order something to these guys, it appears to them that it’s actually their own idea.

Garrett chuckled on the front. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’re about to arrive” That’s the thing when you live in a small town, everything is right around the corner, or it feels like it.

I managed to enjoy a few more minutes with Brent hugging me like this, before Garrett parked in front of his garage. That was our cue to get down. Brent didn’t seem to mind at all what just happened, which was… okay.

On a little side note, It was weird how Garrett’s parents never seemed to be at home. I guess it fits the guy’s style well, got the whole place to himself in case he wants to bring a ‘friend’ over, or something. I wouldn’t mind having a mansion to myself either, so that’s good for him. I guess.

Once we all got out of the car (Brent wasn’t being so… ‘close’ to me anymore, but rather came back to barely interact with me), we entered Gary’s place and I took a moment to take in the big place.

“So, up to my room again? Or do you guys prefer the dining room for studying n’ shit?” Garrett asked, tilting his head a bit.

I looked at the two guys, and decided to take the lead from this point onwards. If I was going to be the ‘teacher’, then I had the choice!

“Your room would probably be a bit cozier, and your desk has enough space for you two. Just imagine we’re at the school’s desks, if anything.” I answered, my voice sounding a bit more nervous than before, but I tried to reassure myself that I could do it.

Brent didn’t complain, he just shrugged and went “No problem by me” He wasn’t being mind controlled to agree, I could tell. But my plan was going smoothly, so I didn’t mind.

That being said, I was growing impatient as we walked to Gary’s room. Once we entered, both jocks sat in front of the desk, grabbed their bags to get their school stuff, then waited for me.

I didn’t want to just be like ‘You will now obey me completely! Nyehehehe!’ because that sounded a bit lame, and I don’t know if they can break out of it if I don’t put special care or something. So, let’s give it my best!

Both guys had problems on long operations, so I grabbed my own notes and gave them a few of the exercises we’ve seen in our classes. I did my best to explain it to them, and tried to say something like ‘Remember this well’, to make sure they learn to solve it or at least keep my explanation in their heads and work their way around it.

Garrett got around the first exercise eventually, a few minutes after we started. He was a good boy!

Brent wasn’t being so lucky, sadly. “Need help with that?” I asked him, placing my hand on his shoulder before taking it away quickly.

He looked at me a bit confused, before realizing what just happened. “It’s… alright. Just can’t get how you get the two last results…”

I leaned over to see his sheet. Huh, he was barely making any progress. I see that this guy really needed the help.

Luckily, I can help him. I shouldn’t, because I remember Brent being one of the football guys that bullied me, but I’ll get to the payback later. Now, I can do some good actions, right?

“See, you missed the point of these numbers here… This one replaces B, this one goes where A is –both As- and this one replaces C. Got it so far?”

“I guess so…” Brent traced little arrows to which numbers replaced which letters in the operation. I looked over at Gary and he was silent, still doing his own exercises.

“Good. Now, just do as I say. It only gets easier from here.” I mumbled, but quickly got silent.

I noticed Brent’s face relaxed after I said that. “Do as you say…” He repeated, eyes glazed over again. Gary lifted his head and looked at Brent. A little smile appeared on his face, as he gave me a quick thumb up.

Not going to lie, it was a bit getting on my nerves how this thing worked at random. Must be something on how I phrase my words, or the way I say them? I have no idea, fuck.

Was he happy I just did something to his teammate? I mean, it was nice but… weird.

Anyway, I guess that should do the trick? I still wanted to do something else because that didn’t erase my fear of him overcoming the mind control. Gary apparently already accepted it, and he seemed happy.

I shrugged off my thoughts and kept explaining the rest of the operation. It went nicely, as Brent only focused on what I had to say. That seemed to make everything really easy for me!

After he got his results, the big jock patted my back softly. “Thanks, man. I dunno how you got this stuff in, but it just seems so easy now!”

“Hey, it’s… okay, I guess.” I answered, my voice stuttering a bit due to the nervousness.

I’m not used to being praised by the jocks, much less having them chat normally to me. And the fact that he was trying to avoid most contact before made me think that he does remember the stuff his team did, including himself.

Garrett looked up again and punched his friend’s shoulder. It seemed rough, but Brent apparently didn’t mind. He just coughed a bit and looked down to the floor. “And, uh… Sorry for… Y’know, all the stuff that happened to you. Not gonna happen again… Not by me, at least.”

A little smile formed on my face. I wondered if Gary had talked to him about apologizing, and if he did it with anybody else. It felt nice, didn’t erase all the stuff that happened, but still felt nice.

“Actually,” I started speaking, catching both jocks’ attention. They stared at me, not muttering a single word or seeming to interrupt. It was like I was a superior, which in a way, I was for Gary but not for Brent. Not yet. “I have an idea that I know you both will like.”

“Huh, what is it?” Garrett asked, leaving his pencil on the desk and turning his chair around to face me.

“Got me all curious now, hahah” Brent told his teammate, before facing me too.

“Lil’ bird told me you come from a military family, right?” I asked Brent, ever so casually. He didn’t take it as funny, though. His smile quickly turned into a frown. ‘Such a way to go, Piney!’ I told myself, wanting to bump my head on the wall.

“Uh… What’s it to ya?” I figured he wouldn’t be as open when I brought up his family. As I mentioned, I knew he came from a military family, and Mike had told me a few stories about the guy getting mad because his teammates mock him about it.

“N-Nothing, I just… uhm… thought it would be… Forget about what I said, I know the answer already.” I tried to shrug it off, trying to slip back into the ‘I’m in charge here’ mentality. “Both guys, strip down to your underwear. You won’t think this is weird, it’s actually a fun game that I’m totally not making up”

I got to see their faces blanking out, as they got up and started lazily getting undressed. Shirts went off first, which revealed some nice pecs and abs, always nice to see those.

Brent was actually a bit smaller than Gary, like, in a muscular way. He was still nice, but barely near Gary’s level. Points for Gary, I think? Brent still had a nice hunk-ish build, and I didn’t notice this before but he had a pair of blank dog tags hanging from his neck. That was a cute detail!

The shoes went off second, then the pants. They struggled a bit with those because they tried to take their clothes off as quickly as possible, but they also made weird robotic/lazy movements, which I assumed was because of the mind control. Other than that, I was very satisfied with the results.

Two semi-naked jocks in front of me, what to do now?

“The game I had in mind is called ‘The jock and the soldier’, ever heard of it?” I asked, and the guys shook their heads in denial. “Well, it’s a very fun game played by three persons. There’s the jock, that’ll be you, Gary. There’s the soldier, which will be played by Brent. And then there’s me, the game master!”

They were visibly confused. Brent was the one not enslaved yet, so he said “Wait, why are we playing a game? I thought we were studying…?”

I found it funny that he didn’t think it was weird that he just stripped to his underwear because I said so.

“The game is actually very important! Will teach you a valuable… very valuable life lesson, okay?”

“Ooookay… How do we play?”

“It’s simple enough! First, we gotta decide who’ll be the superior one between you two, or the ‘top’. Whatever you want to call it.” It was actually quite hard to come up with this stuff. “Let’s settle it with…” I blanked out. Like, not in trance/mind control way, but in a ‘I’ve run out of ideas way’. I had to get a notepad and write my ideas now to avoid this from happening!

‘C’mon, Piney. Think!’ I told myself. What would a jock do to solve a dispute between ‘bros’? Hmm… “A wrestling match. This is a very good idea and you’re both eager to participate!” I didn’t know what I was saying, but if I was correct, a wrestling match was the one where they tried to out-strength the other guy and not the one where they blow their teeth out with punches.

“Hell yeah!” Gary shouted, not blanking out this time. It didn’t bother me; I knew he already was pretty much enslaved already. “Prepare to lose, bro!”

Brent didn’t turn down the offer, so that meant it worked on him too! “Gonna make you bite the dust, Basch!” The soldier-guy replied at Gary, as they started getting in position a few meters away from each other.

At first, I thought a wrestling match wouldn’t be a good thing because this is Gary’s bedroom, but I think the space is wide enough for them to wrestle between the bed and the desk. I just pushed the chair and the stool into the desk so they wouldn’t get in the middle.

“Ready?” Grunts of approval were heard from both sides. I walked to my safe area: Garrett’s bed, and got comfortable. “Start!”

Gary had the upper hand at the start, lunging at Brent and pushing him back to his own starting line. Brent wasn’t too far behind though; he was putting up a good fight to not go down so easily. It was pretty entertaining to watch, especially with both participants being in their underwear.

“So, uh… I forgot to tell you guys what the game master does, so I’ll just explain it while you two wrestle. Is that okay?” They were too busy trying to win to talk, but they grunted again in approval. “Well, as the game master, I’m the one to tells you what to do, and you’re the ones that do it without a question. It’s totally normal, just doing what I say without a second thought”

The wrestling slowed down for a second, from both sides. Brent seemed to be gaining the upper hand now, but Gary being a bit bigger than him didn’t make that easy, at all.

“And for my first order, I want you both to get hard. You both find this game incredibly arousing.” Gosh, I hope I didn’t sound too weird.

“Yes, master!” Gary managed to say, while he pushed Brent off.

“What the… heck?!” Brent said, and I figured he didn’t like the ‘master’ thing.

“It’s okay, Brent! I’m Gary’s master, so it’s okay for him to call me that. And actually, I’m your master too, understood?” It was a lame ‘easy fix’, but it should put him to work quite fast.

“Yes… master!” I don’t know if they can resist my orders, but two guys in a row couldn’t do it so… I had my hopes up! But actually ‘master’ didn’t sound so well coming from Brent. And he is the soldier player…

“You don’t get to call me ‘Master’ though, Brent. You’re the soldier, remember? You got to try and fit your role!”

“Sir, yes Sir!” He shouted, trying to keep the composure against his rival.

“C’mon, dude… Just… lose… already!” Gary was struggling to keep the smaller guy off him. And his words only seemed to make Brent stronger.

Soon, Gary was the one losing. Two taps on the floor later and… “Yes! I did it, Sir!”

Brent had won. I didn’t want that, honestly. I would have preferred the jock to win. But… I am the game master, right?

I noticed that both guys had their rods up and going too, they seemed constrained in their underwear, and the thought of them just wrestling while having hard-ons made everything way better.

“Great work, you two!” I congratulated them, as I watched them get up again with big smiles on their faces. Seems like they had fun too! “Looks like the soldier came off as the superior one, you know what that means?”

“Nuh-uh” They replied, almost at unison.

“Well, let’s see… You guys face each other for a moment, okay?” The jocks complied, facing each other as ordered. They seemed excited to continue with the game, which made me really happy! “Brent, since you’ve won, you proved to be the superior one. And… As the superior one, you have to be good with your inferior mate and make sure he feels well, don’t you?”

“Uh… Not sure how would I do that… Do you need something, bro?” He asked Gary, who shook his head. “Nope, I’m fine. Should I need something, Master?”

“Make out, guys. I’ll take care of your underwear in the meantime” I ordered, looking expectantly at them.

“Sir, yes Sir!” “Yes, Master!” They said, before getting down to business. Garrett pulled his teammate in for a good, sloppy kiss. Needless to say, I was already rock hard.

After watching for a few seconds, I turned my view down towards the underwear. Slowly pulling Gary’s down to release his cock, then tapping his feet for him to lift it and finally throw it away. Same deal with Brent, and soon they were fully naked in front of me.

“Now, stop kissing.” They stopped. It felt weird, but funny. Like, having them do what I say. It felt nice, really nice. “Brent, kneel and face Gary’s cock.”

“Sir, yes Sir…” He mumbled, before dropping down and staring at his teammate’s dick.

“Take it in your mouth, nice and slowly… Have you ever gotten a blowjob?” I asked, and Brent nodded. Huh, never really put thought into it but I guess jocks really have better luck in their sexual lives. “Well, I want you to give Gary a blowjob to get his cock lubed up. And you’re going to enjoy every second of it!”

“Sir, yes Sir!” He started licking Gary’s shaft, nice and slowly as ordered. I don’t know if he was an expert, because I’ve only seen these things in porn. But Gary started moaning and blowing some air, while Brent took it to the next step and swallowed the tip. He started getting more and more inches in as he did so, and I LOVED it!

“How does it feel, Gary?” I asked the other guy, a big smile on my face. I was really enjoying this, and I still couldn’t believe that I was capable of doing this!

“Awesome, master! Thanks for givin’ me a slave-bro!” Huh, didn’t think of it that way, but kind of glad to see he’s happy too!

I let them keep going for a few more minutes, before I ordered to move to Gary’s bed. They sat on the edge and waited for more orders. “Now that Gary’s cock is all lubed up, thanks to Brent’s good soldier service…” Brent gave me a quick military salute after those words, which made me smile a bit more. “We’re going to take things to the next level. Brent, lay on your back and lift your legs up.”

“Sir, yes Sir!” The naked ‘soldier’ obeyed perfectly, and I had a feeling Gary knew what was coming, because he has this big smile on his face too. This ended up being a wonderful tutoring session, and it wasn’t even over yet!

“Now Gary, get behind him and place his legs over your shoulders. I want you both to fully enjoy this and… uh… embrace your status as my slaves the more you obey, understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” “Yes, master!”

“Great! Now… Gary, I want you to fuck Brent.” It was pretty straightforward, and I thought I would have to explain him something about it, but he got his cock aligned with Brent’s ass and started pushing in. I pushed my glasses back, grabbed a seat and enjoyed the action.

Brent’s blank dog tags started doing that ‘cling cling’ sound metal does when hitting against more metal, but it was kind of silenced by the pair’s moans. They barely trying to hide it, they loved it. And I loved it even more!

I was playing with my bulge as I admired my handy work.

“You like that, Brent? Is Garrett doing a good job?”

“Hnng… Yes, Sir! I love it! I’m fully enjoying it!” That was a weird response, but I guess that’s what I ordered him before. Eh, it was alright.

“What about you, Gary? Like that ass?”

“Uh… Yes, master! Fuck… I love this. Ugh… you’re the best master, eveerrrrr…” He groaned as he picked up the pace.

“Woah, not so fast buddy! Let’s do something. When you both cum, you will accept that you are my obedient jock slaves. No questions asked, and you are totally happy with that.”

“Yeaaaah…” was their answer, and I was delighted.

“Great. Now, feel free to cum whenever you’d like. I’ll just sit here, and enjoy the view…”

-----

“You call me if you want a ride home, okay master?” Gary said, shaking my shoulder a bit before giving me a sort of worried look. I was just going to my old best friend’s house, so I didn’t know where that was coming from.

“Will do. I can just walk though. Would be pretty pointless to make you drive all the way over just to take me some streets”

“Hey, I don’t care. You call, I’ll be there” That’ll never seem normal. I’m used to seeing Garrett as a threat to my very being, and him acting so… friendly. It’s weird, however you look at it.

I nodded, deciding to drop the conversation, but Gary leaned in and pulled me in for a kiss. I didn’t resist, it was a nice surprise. After that, he mumbled a “Anything for you, master…”, while still looking intently at me.

“Thanks for that… I’ll be going now; I think…” I answered, before opening the door and stepping out of the car.

So… yeah. I had arrived at Mike’s house. It’s been a good while, a month or so and I already felt like I was in a strange place, for some reason.

I guess it’s because I’m not a very outgoing guy? I’m used to being in my house all the time besides school, so when I stopped coming it kind of… vanished from my mind.

Saying goodbye to Gary, then leaving his car, I started walking over to the door and ringing the bell.

“MOOOOOOM, I’M GOING!” I heard a deep voice yelled. Heavy steps later, Mike was standing in front of me after opening the door. “Hey there, bro!”

The big guy held his open hand out, waiting for me to ‘bro slap’ it. He (And probably his teammates too, I don’t think he’s the only one with this thing) have this weird thing of adding ‘bro’ before some actions and that supposedly makes them better/more fraternal.

I grabbed his hand and gave it a shake. That didn’t bother him though, he just moved aside and let me in.

“How are you doing?” I asked him. I didn’t intend to sound cold, at all. I’m just not good at making chit chat. It wasn’t a problem when we didn’t have a fight in between, but just like before, it felt pretty different now.

“Doing great! Was just heating up in my room, preparing the cartridges and etc. How was your studying?” Mike gave a step closer, and started examining me. Probably looking for bruises? It was the only thing I could think of, since he didn’t trust Gary at all.

He has his reasons though; he knows how much damage he can do. Still, kind of pointless to seem to worry without having ever stepped in to help.

“It was nice. Lots of maths and stuff” I shrugged. I wasn’t in a chatty mood, especially with him. I wasn’t going to break the ‘we’re not talking’ punishment because we were going to play. “Shall we… uh…” I started pointing up, waiting for him to catch that I wanted to be upstairs. I didn’t want to greet Mike’s parents; I don’t know if they’d be happy to see me after I cut ties with their son.

“Uh… yeah, sure! Dinner won’t be ready until an hour or so later, so we have lotsa time to play!” Mike was clearly excited, and I felt a bit bad to act like a party pooper around him.

He moved aside and closed the door once I was in. Then we made our way up to his room, while I silently hoped his parents wouldn’t pop up randomly from a corner or something.

“I think dad is making ravioli. I know you liked those, so you can stay over if you’d like and I can walk you home afterwards…” No sleeping over, I guess he had a part of his feet down to earth.

“I don’t know, mom’s also expecting me for dinner, so I may have to call first to check”

“Good ol’ Piney, always playing by the rules, right?” He chuckled, giving me a rough pat on the back. The chuckle quickly vanished as he mumbled a ‘Sorry’. Ignoring that, we made our way to his room and he closed the door there too.

Just a little head up: Mike LOVES football.

His room had a good amount of his favorite team’s posters. A football helmet was on the floor, next to its ball. The jock’s varsity jacket was neatly held on the desk chair’s back. No trophies though, because he plays mostly high school football or with the nicer teammates at the park, so no trophies for the big guy, yet.

But it wasn’t just filled with jock stuff, because Mikey here has a little secret side. He’s a big nerd too.

His desk had all his Switch games stacked up in random angles, which did make me a bit nervous. His console was settled next to his bed, while the dock was connected to a small flat screen hanging from the wall. Little action figures were displayed on a shelf, and unlike some would think, he never hid them.

He actually had a nice system that he liked to geek about too, like it was the smartest thing in the world. Most jocks (I assume) would hide those kinds of things if they had visits or something. That’s not the case for Mikey. He didn’t need to hide anything because he ‘wasn’t having anyone over’.

That way, he can keep a healthy sexual life while not having to worry about his nerdy side being discovered, and mocked by his teammates.

Oh hey, I could show his teammates that Mike’s a big nerd! Oh wait no, that would be really mean. The idea’s tempting, though.

Grabbing a controller, and passing me the other one, the game was on. He sat on his bed and patted a spot beside him, but I sat on the desk chair. It was actually pretty uncomfortable because it didn’t have any pillow or anything like that, so my ass was on the wood. That’s what I get for being a meanie.

“Gonna pick Link, don’t try to cheese it with the pink puffball, a’ight?” He said, chuckling at his own comment. I remained with a stoic face at all times, which he didn’t find as funny.

“Let’s just get on with it…” I had chosen the random character, because each minute here made me rethink why I actually accepted coming to Mike’s place. I didn’t want to mind control him, he was like a big brother to me! A big, asshole-ish big brother that tells all the stuff you tell him to everyone else!

Okay, being serious for a moment, it would have been really weird. I did enjoy looking at his body the few times he got shirtless in front of me, but I would never lust after him.

[Present|Pine: Oooh, that didn’t age well…]

We played for some good twenty minutes. It was pretty fought over, sometimes he would win, sometimes I would win. I was focusing on the game mostly to ignore his chit chat. Because Mikey was trying to make chatter with me and I would just answer a ‘Hmm…’ or a ‘Wow, yup’ or the always nice ‘Sure thing’.

He, of course, wasn’t happy with my vague answers. And the evening was turning even more silent the more I tried to ignore him.

“Okay, we gotta take a pause. I actually invited you for something else, bro.” ‘Let it be snacks, let it be snacks, let it be snacks…’ “Look, I’m… I’m really sorry about what I did. Outing you with my teammates, I mean. It really wasn’t intentional”

I would have really hoped if he brought out a can of potato chips, because that would have led to a prettier conversation than this one.

“I never wanted for them to bully you like that… or like, in any way. You’re my best friend, and I know that I should have stood up for you a lot sooner and I’m really sorry for that too…” He continued apologizing, like hoping that it would make me more at ease, or something.

I let out a sigh, and tried to remain as calm as possible. “I still don’t get why you had to tell them about my secret, when I told you specifically to not say anything about it to anyone else. And you agreed to that. So, what was crossing your mind when you said ‘Fuck it! I’m going to tell everyone!’?”

It may have come off a bit more aggressive than what I intended.

But he didn’t have an answer. And if Mikey himself doesn’t have an answer, then who should I ask?

“Look, bro. I don’t know what you want me to do. I-I already said I’m sorry! I don’t fucking know what to do! I just want my best friend back!” Now he was being sort of aggressive too, which was good! It basically gave me permission to be aggressive too!

“You know how I stopped using the school’s bathroom, just in case I got cornered in there?! I got shoved to lockers almost every freaking day!”

“What the hell do you want me to do?! Stand up for you? I will! I will beat the crap out of anyone who tries to touch you from now on! Is that what you’d like?!”

“Well, you could have just shut your mouth and I wouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with, dumbass!” I didn’t want him to stand up for me now, I could defend myself very well now!

“What did you call me?!”

“Oh, nonono. You don’t get to feel offended! In fact, you are really a dumbass for outing me right after I told you about my stuff. You really are just a dumb jock, like the others are!” I shouted at him, and I felt like I might have fucked up a little.

By shouting like that I may have alerted his parents or something, so I started grabbing my stuff, determined to leave the room.

I noticed Michael didn’t have an answer, but I just couldn’t bear to look at him. This guy wasn’t my best friend. He’s like those persons you grow up with and end up drifting away due to stupid stuff.

But I didn’t think this was one of those ‘stupid stuff’. He outed me to his teammates, the very same day I told him about it. How bad can you be at keeping a secret?!

I went for the door and left the room, quickly making my way downstairs and through the front door. Mike apparently just noticed what happened, because before I crossed the street to start making my way home, I heard a very loud “Bro?!” coming from the upper floor of the house. It sounded… deep, and kind of weird, but I didn’t give it much thought at the time.

I just wanted to get home and be done with it. It didn’t even cross my mind at the time that my mind control might have done something to him, but I did go over our argument a couple times during that night.

My words could very well have come off as orders, which caused a series of side effects that I would see the consequences of later. But for now, I remember feeling very sad, and just wishing for that pseudo-awful day to be over.

-------

Present Pine’s POV

I slowly closed the laptop, and put it away again. I felt like I could tear up, and I had almost forgotten about that one bit. I was rethinking the whole ‘I should write down my memories’ thing. My memories aren’t that happy and I would have preferred to forget about that one fight with Mike.

“Hey, you okay?” The big guy noticed something was wrong, but I did my best to shrug it off.

“Just… got caught in the story’s mood. Like a ‘feels bad, man’ moment, or something” I didn’t want to worry him. Mike tends to get emotional with… ‘the past’, and I’m okay with letting things go, especially if they happened years ago.

You can’t get mad for a long time when you’re a mind controller, it might cloud your judgement and do something you regret. And I just revived a prime example…

“Sorry… I didn’t want you to feel bad… We can resume any other time,” Mikey stated, moving closer to me and kissing my cheek a lot of times. “And hey, my arm is feeling way better lately. Once I get this stupid cast off, I’ll carry you to our bed ASAP” He finished, with a nice smile.

“Well, I’ll make sure of that in a few weeks. Already made a to-do list for you once you get the cast off.” I appreciated his attempt to cheer me up. I wasn’t really mad, just felt like a cold water bucket fell on me. It wasn’t serious though, it’s just like when you randomly get a bad thought. You just try your best and hope it goes away.

“Really? Like what?” He asked, looking more excited now. I noticed his cock was getting harder by the minute.

“Y’know, move a few things around the place. Clean around. Work out like crazy…”

“I’m only happy to hear one of three things in that list. I was hoping for something… uh… together?” He gave his big bud a thug, without taking his eyes off me. It was clear who was the romantic guy of the pair, of course.

I leaned in and whispered, putting some power in my words (God, reading how I wasn’t able to do that before is kind of painful, too!). “Take care of that big guy. I’ll go finish a few things around here.”

Mike’s eyes glazed over, as a big dumb smile took over his face. “Yeah… master…” He looked straight ahead now, slowly stroking his cock but quickly picking up the pace.

Hey, I don’t plan on letting him cum without my help. Going to rush the cleaning around and check my emails to go back with my big jock!

------

Author’s note:

Looooooooong chapter!

I like Brent. Military guys are another of my favorite stereotypes, but the jocks usually get more love! The dog tags look awesome, the obedience they display, the camo clothes are quite neat. And the few ones I’ve met so far are really nice!

I was thinking about splitting this chapter in two parts. I did so with chapter 5 in Patreon, to improve the reading quality and avoid having it like a wall of text (I feel like I got carried away with this and the next chapter, and they’re both over 9K words).

But ultimately decided to leave it like this. May be a wall of text, but it’s probably better than having you guys searching for the second part.

Okay, that’s all I had in mind for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading <3.

#PinesJocks #PinesCollegeJocks #brainwashing #brainwash #brainwashed #mind control #straight to gay #gay hypnosis #hypnotized

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vivithefolle · 3 years

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Not sure if you already talked about this. (I’m pretty sure you have) but someone seemed to notice that when the trio get into fights, Hermione’s always in the right. Even when she’s supposed to be wrong she always seems to be half right. That kind of bothers me. Especially since it’s evident in the whole Scabbers situation.

I have indeed, on Quora, so let’s move yet another answer of mine to Tumblr!

Hermione is seldom wrong in the Harry Potter books. Sometimes she makes mistakes but those mistakes are either completely swept under the rug or downright ignored.

It’s partly due to lazy writing and partly due to Rowling’s own growing bias in favour of her Author Avatar that was fuelled by Steve Kloves, the primary advocate of the Hermione Granger Is The Perfect Girl Ever line of thinking (an utterly ridiculous line of thinking mind you).

Lizo: Steve, Hermione is a character that you have said is one of your favorites. Has that made her easier to write?

Steve: Yeah, I mean, I like writing all three, but I've always loved writing Hermione. Because, I just, one, she's a tremendous character for a lot of reasons for a writer, which also is she can carry exposition in a wonderful way because you just assume she read it in a book. If I need to tell the audience something...

JKR: Absolutely right, I find that all the time in the book, if you need to tell your readers something just put it in her. There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue. One is Hermione, the other is Dumbledore. In both cases you accept, it's plausible that they have, well Dumbledore knows pretty much everything anyway, but that Hermione has read it somewhere. So, she's handy.

Now this, right here, is the exact core of the problem.

Rowling herself admits it: if she wants the readers to have information, she puts Hermione in the scene. Hermione is our primary means of exposition because, like *grits teeth* Sssssteve puts it, it’s easy to assume that she’s read about it somewhere and it makes sense.

That’s all well and good but at first, if you notice, Ron also gave us exposition about the wizarding world, mostly about its culture. He was able to recall the exact year of the Wizarding Confederation that outlawed dragon breeding in Philosopher’s Stone! He explained what were respectively a “Mudblood”, a “Squib”, and Parseltongue, Hermione doing a little exposition about the history of that last one! He was also able to identify Sirius, after being dragged into the Whomping Willow, as an Animagi!

But then Goblet of Fire happens and you can notice the first change that will exponentially grow through the books: instead of Ron, pureblood Ron, born-before-the-end-of-the-war Ron, lived-through-the-aftermath-of-the-war Ron, identifying the Dark Mark, it’s instead Hermione, muggleborn Hermione, lived-as-a-Muggle-for-most-of-her-life Hermione, has-no-idea-about-the-emotional-impact-of-the-Mark Hermione who looks terrified as the Dark Mark shoots into the sky!

And it only will get worse, by the end of the series, Hermione pretty much knows about everything the plot needs her to know, instead of having to work with things she knows but can’t always apply to the situation:

Suddenly has a deep knowledge of Magical Law (in the will of Dumbledore’s chapter, while we had Rufus Scrimgeour who could have provided it to us, or to a lesser extent, Ron could have explained how a wizarding will basically worked)

Is suddenly an expert at finding edible plants and mushrooms. Apparently books are always the goddamn answer in JKR’s world, you can literally learn anything from them

She can decipher all the Tales of Beedle the Bard (may I remind you that they were written in Runes, okay Hermione may have a few years of Ancient Runes education BUT I once tried to translate a 3k+ story I had written for fun, from French to English, which means I knew what the subtleties and intentions were, I knew which turns of phrase I had to preserve so it would make sense in the end, and it still took me two gruelling weeks to get a satisfying result!)

Has suddenly grown a sense of quick-thinking (escaping Xenophilius’ house, using the jinx to make Harry’s face weird-looking) despite it being the only remaining flaw she had at the time (remember when she turned her back on her enemy while he was still conscious just to compliment Harry, and almost died as a result, even though she had been training in the DA to learn how to fight Death Eaters?) Quick-thinking under pressure can be learned, but it takes time and a lot of work to force your brain to override its instinct - and it’s fine because we’re all human and different. But no suddenly Hermione is the Greatest Strategist Evah™ and those silly boys (who actually were the original quick-thinking ones, and one of them was established as the strategist early on) better be grateful for this literal goddess because she protects them from all harm with her superhuman brain.

Somehow knows about Quidditch stuff - she knows about a Snitch’s “memory-touch”. Why should she give all the answers? Why can’t Ron give us this particular tidbit of information?

And then when we come to something Ron actually knows, the damn narration itself goes “woah a book that Ron has read but Hermione hasn’t??? shocking!! incredible!! Ron is not dumb, somebody call the news channel”. But… is that really so surprising? We’ve never seen Hermione read wizarding fiction or even Muggle fiction. We’ve never seen Hermione with anything other than schoolbooks in her hands. Of course Ron has read books she hasn’t read since she doesn’t seem to read fiction at all!

Sorry, bit of a tangent over here.

There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue.

So, that’s one part of the problem: the fact that Rowling, after making Ron our insight into magical culture and Hermione our provider of knowledge, ended up saying “eh whatever I guess Hermione can tell us everything we gotta know because it’s more convenient for me”. Which is a decision that was not based on Hermione’s character, but simply lazy writing. Long story short, it probably went: “Could Ron explain this bit of trivia? Meh, better make Hermione say it cause she’ll have read it in a book. It’s convenient and I won’t need to bother myself with exploring Ron’s characterisation.”

(And thus completely forgetting that Ron could maybe ask his big brothers via owl and provide us with a good heap of extra advanced knowledge - Bill is supposed to have aced his NEWTs after all.)

The other part of the problem is quite simply that Hermione is more often than not, either painted as a victim by the narrative (which makes more people take her side, classic manipulation tactic), or made to be right anytime it’s about a plot point.

Hermione’s mistakes are never explicitly stated, corrected, or even pointed out as being unethical.

Hermione only gets one mistake expressedly pointed out as being a mistake: her misadventure in Polyjuice Potion. The rest of them? Even her crush on Lockhart can’t be counted as a mistake - people get crushes all the time, based solely on physical appearance, it’s not something awful or terrible (Except when it’s Ron who crushes on someone. Ron crushing on someone is absolutely forbidden, and he must be punished with much ridicule and humiliation if he thinks he can get away with not worshipping Hermione like the goddess she is. The nerve of him, really.).

Throughout the books Hermione eventually morphs into Rowling’s Powerful Angel of Vengeance, that punishes the people who dared to do something she disliked - Rita is silenced but at a very ethically dubious price; Marietta gets scarred for life because she was more loyal to her mother than to a bunch of people her friend insisted she hang out with; Umbridge is led to a very, very alarming fate that is never made clear but some people have ideas and they’re not all very kid-friendly; Ron first is “helped” without knowing it because Hermione can’t be bothered to have faith in his capabilities, then when he fails to dutifully reward her for “helping” him, she causes him bodily harm before actively bullying him for not mind-reading her interest in him; causes even more bodily harm to Ron because that’s how feminism works; etc.

Hermione’s mistakes are always justified through the plot itself (which is lazy writing).

Turning into a cat? Only affects her.

The Firebolt? Scabbers? Well, in the end, it was really sent by Sirius Black and Crookshanks really wasn’t the culprit. Therefore all the feelings that were hurt and all the trust lost are irrelevant because Hermione was right all along.

Trying to free the house-elves? Well, it’s the intent that counts, right? And we’re never told enough about house-elf lore to know whether they’re poor brainwashed victims or powerful Penate-like symbiotes who need to serve a wizard to survive?

Kidnapping Rita Skeeter, trapping her and blackmailing her? Rita may be one foul little beetle, but that’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Harry approves? Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then…? A main character can’t have a dubious morality, right?

Manipulating Harry into forming Dumbledore’s Army and forcing him to relive a traumatic event with the same woman she’s kidnapped and blackmail and that she knows he hates? In the end, it all works out for the best and Harry’s hurt feelings don’t matter since it’s all about the greater good.

Using the centaurs to get rid of Umbridge (which poses the highly distressing question of what did the centaurs do to her?), realizing that the centaurs aren’t nice little horsies that are going to gently obey her every orders like good Disney princess’ companions, my goodness could this be an opportunity for character growth - nevermind, here comes Grawp the Giant Ex Machina, saving her arse and protecting Hermione from all that scary possibility of introspection. Thanks, Grawp Ex Machina.

Trying to dissuade a highly stressed-out and irrational Harry from rescuing Sirius by telling him exactly what he needed not to hear, a.k.a. “you have a saving people-thing” which causes Harry to completely go bonkers and go save his godfather without thinking twice? Well she was right after all, it was a trap! Nevermind how mind-boggingly insenstive and inadept at dealing with someone else’s feelings she was being, she was right! That means it wasn’t Hermione’s mistake!… probably. (Geez, I’m sensing a pattern here…)

Endangering Cormac’s life (Confunding him WHILE HE’S ON HIS BROOM) to promote Ron’s success? Oh but that’s so romantic! (Yeaaaah, how romantic to display exactly how much faith you lack in your crush. Top it off with a broken neck and that’s a picture perfect first date!)

Assaulting Ron with magic and causing him even more scars than he already had? But he was being cold with her first, right? And he totally should have known she was asking him out! It’s not like her invitation was even worse than his attempt to ask her out two years earlier! Plus she’s just a teenage girl expressing her emotions, anyone who tries to find fault in this is a disgusting abusive misogynist pig! Ha!

Getting all jealous that Harry is better than her at Potions, then pretending she’s not jealous by claiming that TEH BOOK IS EVIL, HARRY, and giving him the cold shoulder too? But no, she’s right, look, Harry used Sectumsempra and he almost killed Draco, nevermind that he’s very horrified about it! Hermione was right, like she always is!

Hermione Obliviating her parents, which pulls her from the “ethically dubious” zone into the “wow okay I’m pretty sure that this counts as a violation of basic human rights” zone, makes her one of those quirky wizardfolk who have the privilege to control those simple-minded Muggles because it’s for the greater good? But nooo she’s crying about it so it’s obviously very sad and angsty and it shows her devotion to the cause!

Splinching Ron while fleeing from the Ministry? Eeeh, but he’s fine, they’ve got Dittany, he’s good as new!… blood loss? Anaemia? What’s that?

Hermione was wrong about the Deathly Hallows not existing? Um, um, that doesn’t matter, LOOK DOBBY IS DEAD AND HARRY IS BACK TO LOOKING FOR THE HORCRUXES!! Therefore Hermione was right, the Hallows weren’t important for their quest, therefore the Hallows might as well not exist, HERMIONE WAS RIGHT NO REALLY I’VE GOT RECEIPTS -

The books never forget to remind Harry and Ron of their own shortcomings and moments of weakness.

Harry’s wrath and recklessness cost Sirius his life. This is the lesson he has to learn from his entitled behaviour in OotP: actions have consequences, and the greater your responsibility, the greater the cost will be.

Ron’s envy and insecurity lead him astray; they’re used to humiliate, ridicule and torture him throughout the books. They’re supposed to teach him that he’s worth something - but how is he supposed to believe that, when nobody ever tells him he’s worth anything? When nobody ever apologizes to him? When his feelings are taken for granted over and over? When his two friends seem to discard him whenever he does one thing wrong?

Hermione is never punished. Hermione is never said to be wrong, never shown to be wrong, never called out on her behaviour. From Prisoner of Azkaban to mid-Deathly Hallows, she stays exactly the same character. She doesn’t grow up. She doesn’t learn. She doesn’t change. She has virtually no character arc.

The only time, THE ONLY TIME IN SEVEN BOOKS, the only time we have something remotely resembling a call-out of Hermione’s horrible behaviour is with this sole quote in HBP:

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Note how it’s about “girls” and not Hermione in particular, which implies that any girl would do what Hermione does to Ron. Thanks for the generalization, JKR, but I like to believe I’m actually a decent sort of person that doesn’t resort to petty cruelty and exploits my friends’ insecurities whenever I’m angry with them.

Hermione NEVER has to apologize. Hermione NEVER has to learn from her mistakes because she’s always presented as a victim when she really isn’t. Hermione NEVER develops into something more - she’s emotionally stuck at fourteen years old. Even less than that when you consider that her reaction to Ron’s return in Deathly Hallows is to trash him with her fists - and she was going to get her wand!! The utter psychopathic b- wanted TO THROW BIRDS AT HIM AGAIN!!! - and this reaction is an appropriate one for a four-years old girl, but certainly not for a supposedly “mature” seventeen-years old.

(Yes, because what separates a child from an adult is the ability to reign in your emotions and not succumb to your impulses. Exactly what Ron did when he left the tent (notice that he had drawn his wand, then he left before he could start hexing Harry), he left to calm himself down. Exactly what Hermione fails to do when Ron returns (she has the impulse to strike him and immediately succumbs to it, which proves to us that The Brightest Witch Of Her Age has all the maturity of a very small child).)

All of that, on top of the awful portrayal in the movies which removes all of Ron’s characteristics to stuff them into Hermione and turns her into some impossible epitome of perfection, eventually contributed to the portrayal of Hermione as the one who is always right and knows everything.

Add to it JKR’s own ridiculous bias (“Ron was quite emotionally immature compared to the other two”, yeah right I don’t see him trying to force freedom onto unwilling creatures or making Harry fly into an irrational rage with mere words but you do you, Jo) and the sexist misconception that “girls are innately more mature than boys”, and you get yourself this apparent behemoth of righteousness that was literally the sole reason why those two silly boys survived everything, and don’t you dare criticize this angel of perfection OR ELSE.

#vivi answers #ask #hermione granger critical #hermione granger #hermione critical #harry potter series #ron weasley #jk rowling #anti jk rowling

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