#are you just trying to give the characters a good day for once do you want to make them BLEED?
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bad liar
shauna shipman x fem!reader
summary: the one where you are stressed with your finals but shauna helps you.
warnings: modern days based, characters are aged up and in college, minor cursing, smut MDNI, oral and fingering, soft top!shauna, a tiny drop of praise kink, established relationship, fluff and cute aftercare moment but angsty ending?, too short cause i got lazy, not proofread
spending the rest of your night in bed with your girlfriend wasn't exactly how you planned to end the day. you were never the kind of person who had to study like crazy to get some good grades during school years but ever since you got in college, you realized that things were much harder there.
without a doubt, you were stressed. your desk was a mess, there were books and papers everywhere, and you could barely sleep at night even when shauna was holding you close. you were relying on coffee to survive the week.
"just a few more minutes, okay? i'm almost done, love." your eyes remained attached to your notebook and your hands didn't bother to let go of the pen or fidgeting with the buttons of your dress when you tried to gain a few more minutes from your impatient girlfriend. or hours.
"you said that twice already." shauna let out a frustrated groan, lounging in the big bed behind you.
"i know, i know. but i can't fail that one and it's just for tonight." you noticed how your attempt to persuade her failed when she didn't say a word. she was definitely rolling her eyes or murdering your professor inside her freaky mind.
dating since high school, you had some pretty good experience with her. you were absolutely sure that her silence wasn't a good thing at all. instead of actually talking about what bothered her, shauna had the tendency to shut herself. everything could go from sunshine and rainbows to a passive aggressive shauna in a matter of seconds and she would hold on to all of those unspoken thoughts until they exploded all at once.
"you alright there?" you finally drop your pen and decide to look back over your shoulder, still sitting by your desk covered in sheets of paper, colored pens, a laptop and books.
shauna was at the same position but now, she wasn't looking at you anymore. the ceiling was much more important now that she was doing her best to ignore you.
"yes." she murmured, masking her annoyance under a nonchalant tone. you watch her nose twitching for half a second.
"you know i can tell when you're lying, right? you scrunch your nose just a little when you lie. it’s cute."
"i don't. it just tickles." her nose wrinkled again. you were still trying to decide if you wanted to give her an exasperated glance or smile at how entertaining grumpy shauna was. it never lasted long anyway.
"okay then." you turn back to give your laptop all the attention.
"are you done now?" she gives up after five minutes or so in complete silence.
"nope." you repeat your words from earlier tonight just so shauna could sigh dramatically, loud and clear, to make sure that you were hearing.
that would be a long night.
you stopped hearing your girlfriends clear unhappy noises after a few minutes and you decided to ignore how pissed she probably was to focus on your study. in another words, you were too scared to look back and find her with intimidating eyes that could destroy you and your entire family. you could apologize and make it up to her later with an A glued to your forehead.
eventually you found yourself so focused on the words written in front of you that the rest of the world was practically gone. that until you felt a pair of hands on your knees that automatically made you jump on your chair.
"jesus christ!" you scream, looking down to find shauna on her knees under your desk, right between your legs. it took you a moment to fully recover from how fast your heart was beating.
"try again." she murmured, chin resting on your thigh as she looked up to meet your gaze. very funny.
"what the hell are you doing? i didn't even see you move!"
she ignored you completely. tired of waiting, she lowered her head, pressing her lips to your covered thighs and you feel your body getting tense as you notice what she was trying to do.
"shauna." inside your mind, you definitely scolded her. in reality, your voice was already getting breathy. "i have an entire chapter to finish."
"go on. i'm not stopping you." her mouth doesn't bother to move away from you, causing her words to come out muffled. instead, her hands find their way to your dress and the fabric is slowly pulled up to your upper thighs.
exhaling deeply, your eyes couldn't choose between the book in front of you or the captivating view right under your nose. shauna trailed her way from your knees to your inner thighs with small and wet kisses and it was embarrassing how easily she could press the right buttons and turn you into a wet mess.
among reserved groans, you tried to write new words on your notebook but your brain seemed to have turned into mush. feeling faint, you held the pen still for so long that some ink had gathered on the paper.
"what happened? you were so focused. don't let me interrupt you." shauna mocks you, pleased by your effort to stay unbothered. no matter how her condescending words made you want to reprehend her and push her away, the second she pulled your soaked panties to the side it all disappeared.
"shut up." you squirm, inducing the swivel chair to slightly rotate, eyes fixated on your girlfriend.
you were expecting shauna to be petty and leave you dripping wet by yourself or to tease you some more, but you weren't expecting that.
"gladly." in quick motion, shauna's hands held you by your thighs to pull you closer to her, almost making you fall as you reach the edge of the chair. slouching on your seat, your legs were rapidly spread and the warmth of her tongue finds your throbbing core.
you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your body and your hands promptly clasp onto her hair, mouth hanging open to emit a surprised and breathless moan.
unlike you, shauna was fierce and one of her favorite things was to watch you. eyes overflowing with adoration and arousal, she was fascinated by you.
wrapping her lips around your clit, she is gentle while sucking and flicking it with her tongue. the heat was spreading quickly all over your body and you were glad that only a few people were in the building in that saturday night cause the whole room was brimmed with your countless whimpers.
"fuck, shauna..." you cry, pulling your girlfriend's hair and feeling your legs tremble.
shauna notices almost immediately how your hips began to buck against her mouth and how your breaths were becoming more ragged and didn't waste a second to redouble her effort to make you scream her name. sucking harder and running her tongue along your folds along with focusing on your swollen clit, you feel her teeth lightly grazing your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.
"s-so close..." you feel your orgasm building, the pleasure overwhelming you, her hair brushing against your inner thighs as you move against her. shauna seems to sense it too as her movements became more fervent. she had to grip onto your legs tighter to keep them open and fight your urgency to close them when her tongue work grew urgent.
enjoying your whiny mess for a view, shauna let go of one of your legs to play with your entrance just to push two fingers inside of your pussy, feeling you stretch to her touch and moan her name in response.
"you like when my fingers fill you up, don't you?" shauna mutters against your clit, gently nibbling on your sensitive nerve. her hoarse sounding voice made you roll your eyes, and not in a bad way, followed by a smug smirk on her face and an intense gaze locked on you. you nod desperately. with your hips jerking violently against her mouth as you were practically riding her fingers, you sense your body on fire.
you feel the release building within you, every nerve of yours is tingling with anticipation. shauna's fingers were pumping in and out of you faster, curling up when going as deeper. hitting you vigorously, you cry out, back arching and toes curling succeeded by your fingers letting go of her hair to grip the armrests of the chair as you climax.
you can hear her muffled moans and groans against your skin, her lips still firmly around your clit and fingers roughly going in despite you squeezing her out, only stopping when your leg twitching and hip movements began to slow down. her hand was coated in your juices.
"you forgot about that book of yours real quick." shauna chuckles. you wanted to retort her but you were exhausted. panting heavily, you watch her slowly pull her fingers out of you and trace her thumb over your mouth. "open." she muttered, forcing your lower lip down, she slid her fingers inside to meet your tongue. you don't hesitate to do what she wanted you to, wanting to please her.
sweeping her wet fingers with your tongue and tasting yourself, you swallow all of it while your starry eyes pierced her.
"good job, baby." shauna grins, carefully sliding her fingers out. it takes you a while to adjust yourself to the absence of her. she pushes your chair back just to get enough space to stand on her feet, ignoring her sore legs, and kisses the top of your head. "come on, let's go to bed. i promise i'll help you study tomorrow, okay?" she suggests, right hand finding your head to caress your hair in circles.
you were quite sure that she would do the absolute same thing tomorrow, getting grumpy and impatient and let it all out when fucking you, but you didn't care.
barely being capable of standing up, shauna holds you to help you on your way to bed. lying on your sides, facing each other, she pulls you closer to her body and wraps her arm around your waist.
"thank you. i love you." you whisper to her, giving the tip of her nose a sloppy and sweet kiss. you watch her lips curl into a radiant smile.
"i love you too." she echoes you, leaning closer to fill your face with pecks in between some soft giggles, stopping at your lips to properly kiss you. “goodnight”.
you fell asleep with your face stuck to shauna's neck, nestled against her comfort. nothing could bother you.
well, except for the loud buzz of your girlfriend's phone.
"who's texting you at this time?" your husky voice resounds in her ears, slightly scared by the unexpected noise, head still hidden.
shauna let go of you briefly to turn half of her body to the opposite side and face the bedside table just to take a quick look at her phone, responsible for brightening half of the bedroom.
"it's just van sending pictures of the party she went to with tai." shauna whispered, nose slightly twitching up as she muted notifications. before she could turn around to face you, another message was displayed on the screen.
JACKIE: I had a great time last night. see you tomorrow? ;)
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genuine question: do people want bad, inconsistent writing? is that it? because that's the only way "taiyang is and always has been a horrible father and yang had to raise ruby all on her own and she resent him for it" makes any damn sense.
like. where's the resentment?
where is yang, while happy that ruby is one step closer to achieving her lifelong dream, feeling just slightly frustrated that she's once again sharing a room with her sister, when going to beacon was supposed to be a place just for her for at least two years without having to watch after ruby and feel guilty over it?
where's the resentment when tai sent zwei to the girls to be taken care of while he's away on a mission, placing that responsibility on yang again? why show yang instead being flippant about the whole ordeal, and shrugging it off like it's nothing, being ready to leave zwei alone in the dorm room for the week they're away because he has the absurd amount of food and a can opener tai provided them?
where's yang bringing up how she had to apparently grow up early because tai wasn't there, when she wanted to be treated like an adult?
where's the resentment when yang was about to leave home under the assumption it was her keeping her father from going after ruby, only to find out he isn't coming with her, once again leaving the responsibility of taking care of ruby on her shoulders?
because the show i watched, it doesn't exist. to even remotely get to that point you'd have to ignore ruby talking about their dad in a way that makes it clear he was present and raising them, you'd have to ignore yang having to wait for him to be out of the house to leave herself once again proving he was present and attentive of them, you'd have to ignore ruby's first happy memory being from that same time period (and with no corresponding sad memory to counter it), you'd have to ignore him reading them bedtime stories and taking them out for boba after school, making sure he's spending time with them even when he's busy with work.
you'd have to ignore that both yang and ruby have a good relationship with their father.
that is not to say tai doesn't have his flaws—every damn character in this show does—, but that's exactly what V4 is about. the rift that existed between yang and taiyang was his refusal to talk about raven and doing his best to prevent her from looking for her. that's it. just compare the difference in tone between yang's "oh, so now we can talk about her?" and "i don't know. some things you just need to be there for." and it's clear as a day where the resentment actually lies.
therein lies the core of the arc between yang and tai, and like many issues between characters in this show, it gets resolved: for the first time ever, he properly talks with yang about raven, and when yang is about to leave, he doesn't try to stop her like he has before; instead, he asks her where she's going, and gives information that might help make her journey easier.
if they intended there to be any lingering resentment from yang, 'boba' was not the way to do it. we know what yang's resentment looks like: anger, snappiness, the like. it's not quiet, almost somber.
they could have written yang treating tai's absence in vacuo as something she has come to expect from him, but they didn't; instead, she wonders why, because she can't fathom what could be more important for their father than being there, in vacuo, with them.
and that alone comes as validation for everyone who has wondered the same: why is tai staying in patch when everyone else is on the move? this is a character we're first properly introduced to as a father who has fallen asleep by his daughter's bedside waiting for her to wake up, a father who is almost brought to tears by relief that both of his daughters are back home and safe.
a father we last saw being absolutely desperate for his daughter to come back on screen when ruby's message cut short.
and beyond brings a sledgehammer and says yes, it is odd that taiyang hasn't left home to be by his daughters' side. wonder why that is, must be something important, wink wink ;)
and if you ask me, that sounds like a pretty damn good "long con", and damn good writing.
#rwby#taiyang xiao long#yang xiao long#ruby rose#the disrespect this family gets smh#make it make sense folks!!!
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Harry was never really Dumbledore's man
So, in HBP Harry says himself:
“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?”
“Yeah, I am,” said Harry.
(HBP, 348)
But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.
(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)
I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.
“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?”
“Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”
(PS, 217)
This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.
Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.
Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).
Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.
Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak.
“You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred.
“Not what?” snapped Riddle.
“Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —”
The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.
“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed.
“He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —
(CoS, 282)
This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.
The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.
Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.
(GoF, 310)
This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.
As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:
“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .”
Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book.
[...]
As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write?
Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter.
Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.
(GoF, 21)
Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.
Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).
“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.”
“Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry.
“I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began.
“Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?”
“Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -”
Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him.
“Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?”
“He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.”
“Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”
(OotP, 63)
Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.
And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.
“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .”
There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building.
“You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron.
“I told Sirius last time.”
“Well, tell him about this time!”
“Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?”
“Well then, Dumbledore —”
“I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.”
Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully.
“Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said.
Harry shrugged.
“C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”
(OotP, 382)
Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.
“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —”
“That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.”
“I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!”
“Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly.
“Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly.
“Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly.
“What do you mean?” said Hermione.
“Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .”
Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other.
“Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —”
“Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.”
“He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .”
“Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”
(OotP, 554)
Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.
(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)
“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?”
“Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.
(HBP, 552)
Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).
Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.
And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.
So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.
“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside.
“And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry
[...]
Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!”
“What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry.
[...]
Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?
(DH, 135-137)
And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:
“Harry—”
But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—”
“Yeah, you could say that—”
“—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.”
“You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.
(DH, 311)
Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.
Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.
Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.
“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.”
Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it.
“Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice.
“Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”
(DH, 478)
More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.
Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.
And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...
TL;DR
Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.
#harry potter#hp#harry potter thoughts#hp thoughts#harry potter meta#hp meta#hollowedtheory#hp theory#harry james potter#harry potter analysis#albus dumbledore
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exactly what he needs, pt. 4 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | other parts here
— pairing: nate jacob x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: nate & you have breakfast together, made by you. he then takes you grocery shopping, & later in the week, he finally asks you to be his!
— tags: cute lil domestic moments, you wearing nate's jersey, meeting the parents day 1, first kiss
— tw: dollification (mans isn't even trying to hide it anymore, he straight-up is tying bows in your hair now), eating, snooping, it being implied that nate has already thought about one day baby-trapping you if push-comes-to-shove, misogyny (he's so mean to cassie), threatening, f receiving oral, emotional manipulation, possessiveness
— word count: 11,661
— a/n: reader uses pads bc i use pads & we are all about self-inserts around here (i never learned how to use tampons, don't judge me). honestly, idk how nate would feel about pads. like, on the one hand, i can see him as seeing them as more "unsanitary", but also preferring it if reader is still a virgin. tbh, he prob just tries to pretend periods don't exist, & doesn't want to hear about it if you're on yours, apart from a slight heads-up & being informed once everything down there is back to normal.
i hope this doesn't seem like things are moving too fast in reader & nate already getting together, but tbf, nate & cassie had hung out for what? prob at most a couple hrs when fezco beat his ass, & then the boy is lying in the hospital thinking he's in love & wants to have babies with her. i say it's on-par for his character lol.
The next morning after your day together is the first time Nate ever shoots you a text.
A simple Good morning, sweetheart.
You stare at it for around ten minutes, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You type up a reply, then delete it. Then type up another and backspace the entirety of it as well.
Finally, you press send on a simple Good morning. (:
Nate: Any plans for today?
You: Might clean the house a bit, then go grocery shopping.
You watch as three little dots dance on your screen, then suddenly disappear. You then suppose you’ve not supplied an incredibly interesting answer.
You toss your phone down on the bed, deciding to finally get up for the day. It’s nearly fifteen minutes later when you check your texts again and see that Nate replied…ten minutes ago.
Nate: How do you get your groceries home?
You: There’s a store not too far from here. If I don’t have very many, I usually just carry them as I walk. If I have quite a few, sometimes I take the bus.
Speaking of which, you need to check the schedule for it today and plan accordingly. That is, until Nate replies.
Nate: I can drive you there and back. I don’t mind.
You begin to type, telling him that’s completely unnecessary, but you’re not fast enough.
A text from him pops up: omw
You throw yourself back on your bed, groaning. You’ve just woken up.
You hadn’t planned to go to the store for perhaps a few more hours. You want to at least wake up first. Eat something, then clean. Even if the house is already essentially spotless, but you have a cleaning schedule you try to adhere to to keep it that way. And to give yourself something to do on the weekends in your spare time.
Which is, apart from tutoring, all you really have.
You decide to just stay in your PJs—a pair of soft blue shorts with clouds on them and a white t-shirt.
You’ve already washed your face and brushed your teeth, as well as your hair—which is now in a bun atop your head.
You make your bed, opening your curtains, letting the morning sunshine into your room before you go to the living room and flip the lock on the door to let Nate in.
You then head to the kitchen to decide on what to make for breakfast. You’re torn between eggs and bacon, or waffles, with perhaps a small side of French toast, when you hear a truck roar into your driveway.
You’re torn from your debating over breakfast by a knock on the door.
“It’s open!”
Nate enters the house, slipping off his shoes, closing the door behind him.
“I’m in the kitchen,” you call softly.
He comes to stand in the entryway. “Want me to give you a few while you get ready?”
He surely hopes you’re not the type who goes to the store in her pajamas, at least.
You turn around to look at him, leaning back against the counter behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “Actually, I was planning on going later this afternoon. After cleaning. And eating… I haven’t had breakfast yet,” you say sheepishly.
“Shit,” he hangs his head for a moment, then looks at you again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck up your plans for the day. I just didn’t have anything to do this morning, so I thought I’d run over and help you out.”
You shake your head. “It’s ok. I appreciate it. You don’t have to stay if you have somewhere else you need to be.”
“I don’t. Not until this evening, at least.”
His dipshit dad wants everyone to have a family dinner together, while Nate wants to do anything else.
Like be here with you.
“Have you eaten yet?”
He has—a breakfast burrito maybe an hour ago. “No, do you want to go somewhere and get breakfast?”
“I could make us something instead?” You turn back around, opening the fridge again. “Any requests?”
He’s quiet for a moment, just taking you and this moment both in. You, still in your pajamas, having just rolled out of bed a little while ago, standing in the kitchen in the early-morning light, offering to cook for him. It’s all so…domestic. And a warm feeling forms in his chest at it—imaging this as his home with you. Imagining you’re both married and your kids are still asleep in the other room.
You glance back to him.
He shakes his head to clear it. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never done—had this before.”
“What?”
“My-” he stops himself before he can say ‘girlfriend’. “A girl cooking for me.”
Your brows furrow. “Really? Neither Cassie or Maddy ever did?”
He chuckles. “I honestly don’t think of either of them know how.”
“That’s sad,” you state simply, before turning back around. “So, do you want bacon and eggs, or waffles, pancakes…I can do French toast?”
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He likes that you know how to make so many things. That you want to do so for him. He’d chosen right with you.
You turn around yet again. “You’re my guest, so you get to pick.”
He smirks, shrugging. “Bacon and eggs is fine with me.”
“How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled works.”
You nod, then start pulling out cookware.
Nate had stood to the side, watching as you worked, occasionally sipping on a mug of black coffee—you’d put some on just after having gotten up. He’d asked more than once if you wanted help as he watched you flit about the kitchen, but you’d only smiled and shook your head.
Finally, once breakfast is ready, you make the both of you a plate and carry them into the dining room, sitting his plate on one side of the table and yours on the other.
You take your seat before he can bother pulling it out for you. He tries not to let it irk him. He tells himself it’s because it’s a habit, since you’re in your own home. You’re not used to being catered to. But neither is he.
Thankfully, Nate had gone for a run after eating earlier, so he’s able to clean his plate. He doesn’t want your feelings hurt—for you to feel insulted—by him not eating every last bite. And it had been rather good, actually.
“You’re a good cook.”
You look up to him, beaming. “Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. Do you want anything else?”
He leans back, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can fit anymore.”
You nod, standing, taking both your plates into the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher.
You return to the dining room and remain silent as Nate types a message out on his phone, looking up to you as he tucks it back into his pocket.
“I’ll get dressed and then we can head out.”
He stands. “It’s warm out.”
You smile. “Thanks for the forecast.”
He smirks. “You could—if you want to—wear the skirt and top I bought you.”
You’d hung everything up to dry last night and had truthfully forgotten about all of it until his just-now reminding you.
“Unless you don’t like them?”
You shake your head. “No, I do. I just…I wish you had asked me first.”
“Would you have let me get them for you if I had?”
You wrap your arms around yourself. “Probably not.”
“Then I made the right decision to make it a surprise.”
He heads in the direction of your bedroom, then, and you trail after him. “I just don’t understand why.”
You feel stupid, speaking to the back of his head.
He comes to sit in the swing-chair in the corner of your room. “Why what?”
“Why you bought me everything you did. I looked up the necklace, how much it costs…”
He’s unphased by it, knowing he’d spent well over a grand on you yesterday. But in truth, it hadn’t been nearly the amount he’d wanted to spend.
He'd wanted—more than anything—to take you into a lingerie store and blow a ton of cash on you there, watching you try on everything he asked you to. But he knew better. For now, at least.
“So I wanted to get you a few nice things. You act like it’s some sort of terrible thing for me to have done.”
You sit on the corner of your bed, facing him. “I’m very grateful. For all of it. I just…I hope you don’t think you need to buy my friendship, Nate. I’m not going anywhere.”
It has nothing to do with friendship. But he can’t tell you just how much it turns him on: spoiling you, buying you expensive things, the idea of you being covered in him—from shoes, to clothes, to jewelry, to perfume and more. It gets him off—makes getting off easier, in truth. Until he has your body to do that with, that is, at least.
He leans forward. “I’m glad to hear that. But you don’t have to worry—I never thought I did.”
He glances to your closet. “Do you want to get dressed?”
“I should probably check to make sure everything is dry. I hung everything up last night.”
You leave your bedroom, heading in the direction of the laundry room.
Meanwhile, Nate stands, finally having a moment alone in your room. He wrenches open the drawer on your bedside table and is met with a couple remotes, a book, a few hair ties, a charging cable…nothing of interest. So he closes it.
Heart pounding, he peeks out your bedroom door—you’re nowhere to be seen—and he then opens the top drawer of your dresser next. Ever-organized, your panties are all in individual cubbies—all cotton, some solid colors, others with patterns printed across them, like small flowers and stars. He picks up a bra. White, with a bit of lace, a small bow in the front, another sage-green. Everything utterly virginal. He digs, but finds not one sex toy.
Perhaps you have them elsewhere.
He jumps when he hears a door close. He steps into the hall a moment and sees the bathroom door is now shut.
He returns to your room, getting on the floor and looking under your bed, where there’s only a couple vacuum-sealed bags full of clothes. He then quietly opens your closet. On the top shelf are a few boxes. He pulls down a shoe box, which, unsurprisingly, has a pair of brand new tennis shoes inside. He puts it back, pulling down another.
And it’s full of old Polaroids. They’re all from when you were younger. You and your dad, another of the two of you, a photo of a butterfly, another of a dog looking up at the camera, and he nearly drops the box when he finds a picture of the two of you. The pair of you can’t be more than six or seven-years-old, both of you smiling toothy grins up at the camera.
He flips it over. Written in faded blue ink on the back, it reads “Nate + Y/N ‘05”. He pockets the picture, putting the lid back on the box and setting it back in your closet.
He stops snooping and sits back in his previous seat, unable to remember the picture ever having been taken. He wonders if you do.
When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Nate is still sitting in the corner of your room, his head leaned back and eyes closed, hands folded in his lap.
You silently sit on the edge of your bed, folding your legs over one another, draping your new pink skirt over them. You don't want to wake him, so just as you begin to consider changing back, closing your door and cleaning the house while he rests, he slowly opens his eyes.
"If you'd like to take a nap, you can."
He shakes his head, looking you over. You look perfect. For the most part. "Don't want to wear your necklace today?"
You glance to the robin's-egg colored box on top of your dresser. In truth, you're a bit paranoid about wearing something so expensive. What if the chain breaks and by the time you realize, it's long-gone?
You then look back to him, watching as he stands, opens the small box, then removes the necklace inside.
He comes to sit down behind you, slipping the chain around your neck, fastening it into place.
He then begins to tug the hairband from your ponytail.
You half-turn your head back toward him. "What're you-"
"Do you mind if I do your hair for you?"
You're starting to wonder if Nate has some hidden interest in hair-styling.
"I...I guess not."
He slips your hairband free, it coming to rest on his wrist along with the one he'd taken from you yesterday.
You sit there silently, enjoying the feeling of someone else's fingers in your hair once again, your cheeks growing warm as you feel him pull one side of your hair into a pigtail—something you're not quite sure about, but you decide to only make a judgement once he's finished.
He then does the same with the other side, smoothing some hair down your back, before gripping both your upper arms. "Done."
You stand, walking over to the mirror set atop your dresser and inspecting the half-up, half-down style. One pigtail on either side, the rest of your hair against your back.
"I think you look really pretty like that," he says from the bed behind you.
Who knew the star-quarterback had hidden hair-dressing talents.
You turn back around to him. "So when do I get to do your hair?"
He raises a brow.
"I could put clips and bows and ribbons-"
"Do you have ribbons?"
He...he can't seriously want you to put one in his hair...
"Yes."
He stands. "Where?"
"In the bathroom, the second drawer below the sink."
He leaves you standing there as he goes to rifle through them, returning a moment later with two that match the color of your skirt.
"Nate-"
"Turn around."
You're not sure that you appreciate his demanding tone, but do as he says nevertheless.
Once you have bows tied around either pigtail, Nate puts his hand against the small of your back. "Let's head out."
When the two of you arrive at the store, you go to get out, until Nate stops you by grabbing your left hand. "Wait for me to get it."
You sit back in your seat and wait for him to come around to your side. Once the door is open, you speak. "You don't have to come in with me if you'd rather wait here. I know grocery shopping, well, shopping in general, can be tedious."
He shrugs. "I don't mind."
He takes your hand, helping you down and shuts the door, leading you inside.
Nate stays close to your side as you toss various items into your cart—paying acute attention to each thing you do. You don't get a terrible amount of junk food, but he wishes you'd forgo the cereal. He'd already told you from here on out he'd be bringing you breakfast every morning.
He studies what kind of conditioner you use, what kind of lady razor, even your morning facial-wash. He briefly daydreams about getting you ready for the day—the detailed process he would go through to make you look like his own perfect living doll.
It's when you're in the frozen foods aisle that you briefly pause as he pretends to look over the frozen pizzas, when he's actually watching you. Watching you stare at a couple across the way, giggling and kissing each other, the girl's hand resting over her swollen belly, that is.
Hurt flashes across your features and he briefly grows angry, wondering if it's jealousy—if you know the man.
He steps over to you. "Do you know them?"
You jump in surprise at his presence, having been lost in your thoughts. You shake your head, throwing a bag of frozen vegetables in the cart. "No." You're quiet for a moment. "I was just thinking."
"About?"
You look at the happy pair again. "What that must feel like."
He places his palm against the small of your back, refusing to remove it for the rest of the shopping trip.
Nate of course takes it upon himself to not only load every single grocery bag into the bed of his truck, but also unloading and bringing every one into the kitchen once you're home. He simply watches from a kitchen island stool as you put them away.
He eventually excuses himself to your bathroom, deciding to finally cross the boundary of going through your medicine cabinet.
He locks the door, turning the faucet on as he goes through the cabinet under your sink first. Some toilet paper, a box of pads, some pantiliners, cotton balls, cotton pads—basic bathroom paraphernalia.
He then starts pulling open drawers. One he's already familiar with, it's filled with small baskets which hold elastics, hair bands, bows, clips, headbands and the like. Another houses hot-tools: a curling iron, which looks barely-used, a straightener, which has clearly been well-loved—the company name all but rubbed off of it, even an old crimping iron, and a blow-dryer.
He moves onto the last drawer, which just has extra toothpaste, toothbrushes, some lotion, triple antibiotic, extra shaving gel, and some other odds-and-ends.
Finally, he opens the medicine cabinet, curious if you're on birth control. If so, that will be coming to a stop immediately. Not only does he hate the horrid list of side effects that come with it, but once the two of you start fucking, he wants to be in complete control of your reproductive options.
Needs to be if... Well, if he eventually decides he can't live without you and has to resort to drastic options to keep the two of you permanently connected for the rest of your lives, he'll have that option.
But all he finds is some Tylenol, Advil, expired allergy pills, an old prescription bottle with your dad's name on it, a bottle of mouthwash, a small cup of bobby pins, some q-tips, and a couple—of course—clean makeup brushes, a few other items here and there.
He quickly searches the shower and just finds a few bottles of various kinds of soap.
Finally, he flushes the toilet, turns the water off, and comes to join you in the kitchen.
Nate had left not longer after you'd finished cleaning the house, him offering to help, but you telling him you could never ask a guest to do such a thing, so he'd instead sat on the couch, idly watching football, fantasizing once again about you being his perfect little housewife. Cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping for him, allowing him to dress you up and show you off.
It's in the moment as he watches you humming to yourself as you dust off the mantle that he decides this Thursday you'll finally be his.
Nate continues on with the studying ruse to continue spending one-on-one time with you.
Monday, you'd done exactly as he'd asked: you'd worn the white dress, a pair of flats with it even, your new necklace, a hint of blush, and you'd even curled your hair, which had made him hard near-instantly.
It had taken everything in him not to hold your hand as the two of you walked into school. As soon as he spotted Lexi—the ridiculous look on her face as she watched the two of you—he pulled you in the other direction before you could see her yourself, seating you with him and his friends. When you had brought up going to find Lexi, he'd merely told you he thought it might be nice for you to meet some new people that morning.
He knew by their expressions that his friends had wanted to say something—anything about you—perhaps throw around some vulgar jokes, but the death-glare he greeted them with instead kept them talking about football and some party that had gone on this last weekend, which he'd been unaware of, too concerned with filling his time with you.
As the week went on, the two of you began to text more and more. You woke up everyday to him and went to sleep to messages from him. He'd even called you once, and the two of you chatted for almost an hour about everything and nothing. He would've been content to stay up all night listening to your voice, until you had gotten off the phone, telling him you were going to sleep and you would see him in the morning.
You had no idea he was outside of your house that night, watching your bedside lamp flicker off.
Thursday after school, once the two of you are finished studying, Nate finally takes the plunge, praying to fucking God he gets what he's been dying to have for the last two weeks.
He pulls out his extra jersey from his bookbag, handing it to you.
You look up to him, confused.
"I thought you could wear it tomorrow to school, and the game that night."
You look down at it, the metallic number '18' on the front, then back up to him once more. "Isn't...isn't wearing a player's jersey to school something girlfriends usually do?"
He scoots the least bit closer to you, his legs on either side of your chair. He reaches up, gently gripping the back of your neck, light enough that it seems just a sweet gesture, but he knows what he means it as: him touching what is about to belong to him.
"Would that be such a bad thing?"
You blink once, twice. "What?"
He takes one of your hands in his free one. "Listen, the last few weeks," even if he knows it's only been two, but so little time together sounds...not the best out loud, "spending time with you has been a welcome change in my life. I know it started out as just tutoring, and we can keep doing that, of course. But, Y/N, I really, really like you. Being around you is just...so fucking easy. You're easy to talk to, to hang out with, to text with. And you're incredibly beautiful. And kind. And smart. Honestly, I could go on for the next hour, if not longer, about all your admirable qualities. Suffice to say that I'm very-much interested in being with you. And if you feel the same way that I do, then maybe we can give this a shot."
A strange, uneasy feeling comes over you. You tell yourself it's because you've never been asked out before. Never had someone show such blatant interest in you before like this. You're used to being alone, so of course the idea of being with someone—anyone—but especially Nate Jacobs, star football player, his dad's name being a household name in East Highland, and the guy every girl at school seems to want—seems unthinkable.
"I...I didn't think I was your type."
So does that mean you have thought about it? Being with him?
He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I didn't think so either. But that's precisely why I think you're so good for me. You're not attention-seeking. Dating girls like that in the past has caused me nothing but trouble. You're not superficial. You care about shit—see things—in ways others just don't. Not at our age, at least. Not at our school. You're mature, responsible, know how to take care of yourself..."
He trails off, wanting you to reply. To just say yes. To give yourself to him.
"I don't know about this..."
His grip on your hand tightens just the smallest bit. "What's your concern?"
"How do I know you're not rebounding, from Cassie or Maddy?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not. I should've been done with Maddy a long time ago for the way she treated me. What she did at McKay's...I can never forgive that. And Cassie was a mistake from the first moment. We had both been drinking. And I just...I wasn't thinking clearly. But I am now. And I know what I want."
You look down to your lap. "And what if I screw things up? I've never dated someone before. I'd have no idea what to even do."
"Nothing here has to change. Not really. Us being together just means spending more time together." He fights back a smirk. "And me finally getting to kiss you."
Your head jerks up.
"Once you're ready," he adds on, knowing you'll be ready when he deems you so.
"And what if I'm just one more person to hurt or let you down?"
He feels like with that one question alone—you being so concerned for his wellbeing—he falls in love with you.
He releases your neck, now cupping your cheek. "You won't be. Do you think I haven't thought the same thing? You were abandoned by your mom. Your dad, too, essentially. The last thing I want is to be one more person to leave you. So I don't plan to.
"Listen, I'm not saying everything is going to be like a picture-perfect fairytale all the time, but I think so long as we're both happy, give each other our all, and consistently work at what we have, then we'll both be happy.
"Just in the time we've spent together, I've already opened up more to you alone than I have to anyone else in I can't tell you how long. I trust you."
He brushes the pad of his thumb over your lower lip and you want to cry from how gentle and sweet he's being—has been—with you.
Finally, you resign yourself to the likely fate of your first heartbreak.
"Okay."
His brows raise. "Yeah?"
You nod, a small smile on your face, your eyes filling with tears of joy. "Yes."
He stands, picking you up, wrapping your legs around his middle and your arms around his neck before spinning you around. "Oh, baby, I am going to make you so fucking happy."
You look down at him, and you believe it.
When you wake the next morning, you only get so far as brushing your teeth and washing your face when you hear a truck outside.
Still half-asleep, you wander to the front door and look through the peephole to see Nate coming up to it, one of his arms behind his back. You briefly wonder if you'd overslept as you flip the lock and open the door.
He comes in, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead. "Morning, angel."
You look up to him with sleepy eyes. "Am I running late?"
He smirks, thinking of the things he'd love to do with you while you're still half-asleep like this. It'd be too all easy to take control in bed.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm early," he says, pulling a bouquet of a dozen white roses out from behind his back.
You gasp lightly, taking them from him. "They're beautiful." You look up to him. "You didn't have to bring me flowers now that we're together."
It feels oddly strange to say.
He presses another kiss to your forehead. "I wanted to. It's something I want to do for you, bring my girlfriend flowers, take her on dates," he shuts the door behind him, backing you up against the wall, the flowers clutched against your chest as he places his palms on either side of you. "I hope you know I intend to spoil you fucking rotten."
Your eyes widen. "Oh."
He smirks. "C'mon, let's go get you ready."
Once you've put your flowers in a glass vase near a window in the kitchen, Nate takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom.
"Sit," he says before stopping himself, nearly opening the drawer to your straightener. He doesn't need you knowing he'd been snooping. "Straightener?"
"Uh...top drawer," you reply, seating yourself on the toilet lid
He retrieves the device, plugging it in.
As it heats up, he grabs your hairbrush from atop the sink and comes to stand behind you, running the bristles through your hair.
"You...you don't have to do my hair."
"I want to."
In truth, he wants to shave and moisturize your legs as well, then dress you in his jersey—picking out a bra and panties, too, before doing your makeup.
"Did you do this for Maddy and Cassie as well?"
He'd bought Maddy clothes, but she would've never let him dress her. Would've most-likely mocked him had he so much as given her a ponytail. Cassie was obviously a different story. "No. And we don't have to talk about them anymore. They're in the past now."
You fidget nervously with your hands. "Isn't that important—addressing our pasts to get to know one another better?"
Once your hair is free of tangles, he sets the brush down on top of the toilet tank. He then comes to stand in front of you, kneeling down to make the two of you level. "It is, but I don't want you to worry about either of them. You're the best thing for me now."
He sprays some heat-protectant on your hair before beginning to straighten it.
Nate gives you some privacy as you go over your legs with a razor one more time before getting dressed, even if you'd shaved the night previous. When you're finished, you come to stand in front of the mirror, and you simply stare.
Your hair is like it was the other day when you went grocery shopping, only, instead of ribbons on either side, he'd used hair bands that have two small balls on them that match the color of the numbering on his jersey. He'd actually done surprisingly well in doing your hair.
When you step out of the bathroom, he's waiting for you in your bedroom, his extra jersey, which you'd had hung up in your closet, now resting on your bed.
You nearly want to pinch yourself, everything seems so unreal in this moment.
He picks up the blush he'd gotten you, along with a makeup brush from your hardly-ever-used vanity and he dips it into the fine powder before gripping your chin, swiping the brush over the apples of both of your cheeks once, then twice.
You giggle nervously. "I'm starting to feel like a living-doll or something."
He smirks, snapping the compact shut, setting the materials back where they go. "I just like taking care of you."
He picks up your diamond Tiffany necklace, one more sign of his ownership over you, and clasps it around your neck.
He nods down to the jersey. "I'll let you get dressed."
Nate fights back a raging erection every mile to school. Here you sit, completely fucking covered in him, in the passenger seat of his truck. He'd done your hair, your makeup, bought the piece of jewelry you're now wearing, and his jersey hangs from your frame like a dress—he'd also picked out the white pair of tennis shoes from your closet that you're now wearing. Even eating a muffin he'd stopped to pick up for you.
He wants to pull over in a secluded spot somewhere and claim your virginity—one more part of you that will now belong to him—but he tells himself that will come soon enough.
If his plan works, you'll be in his bed, a whimpering, crying, whining, begging mess under him, sooner rather than later.
Your pussy will be his to fuck whenever and however he pleases.
He'll finally be back to no longer having to use his hand.
His fucked-up sexual fantasies of the two of you will finally get to come true
When Nate pulls into the lot, he 'accidentally' steps on one of your shoelaces after you've gotten out of the truck. He lifts you back up into your seat, setting your foot atop his knee—just like at the bowling alley—and people watch from their cars as he ties your shoe for you.
Finally, he takes your hand, firmly twining your fingers together, before locking his vehicle behind the two of you, as you walk into school together.
And you feel yourself begin to sweat nervously with every pair of eyes that turn your way, some people clearly not thinking much of it—bless those few—while others react with shocked expressions, whispering amongst themselves, eyeing you up and down, making you want to crawl inside a hole.
You look up to Nate and he looks nothing short of confident and unbothered.
You then glance over to Lexi's table and Lexi's expression somehow looks...sad? Disappointed, maybe?
Cassie, however, is shaking she's so enraged.
You quickly balk and look away from her before sitting down beside Nate, thankful you had worn a pair of black bicycle shorts under his jersey.
You drown out Nate's football friends chatting with him about tonight's game as he places his hand on your knee, then slowly moves it higher, then higher, until it's on the middle of your thigh.
You can feel your face growing warm out of mortification. What if someone sees? Thinks that the two of you are...well, already doing that.
You're torn from worrisome thoughts, thinking perhaps you'd made a mistake—you're not sure exactly what choice to consider as much—by Nate squeezing your leg.
You blink up at him. "What?"
He nods toward his friend. "He asked you a question."
You look at the young man across the table, who's maybe a year younger than the both of you, with black hair and hazel eyes, braces still on his teeth.
"I'm sorry, I guess I didn't hear you."
"I asked if you were going to be at the game tonight, since you're Nate's new girl."
"Of course she is," Nate replies for you. "She'll be in the stands cheering us onto victory. Right, baby?"
You give him a nervous smile, then nod.
He's pleased with your agreeable response.
When you get into second period, Cassie is already there, in her seat, which is just behind and diagonal to yours. You don't look at her as you lie your books on your desk, afraid to meet her eyes.
Then you hear her whisper "bitch" as you take your seat.
You slowly turn back to look at her, filled with hurt at the cruel name.
She gives you a nasty look. "What are you looking at?" She asks in a snide tone.
You turn back around without another word, fighting back tears for the rest of class, unable to think of anything else but how she'd always been so nice to you, and now despises you.
Once class is over, you go out to your locker, so distracted that you don't see Nate leaning against the one next to it with a smile meant only for you.
A smile that immediately disappears when he sees the sullen look on your face, and your bloodshot eyes.
You fumble with your lock twice before finally getting your locker open.
"What's wrong?"
You nearly jump at the sound of his voice.
You shake your head, setting your books back on their shelves with shaking hands. "N-nothing."
He leans down closer to you and speaks gently, quietly. "Something happened. Tell me."
He isn't going to take no for an answer.
You shake your head and he feels his fuse growing shorter. "Did someone say something to you?"
You look up to him. "I don't want to cause any trouble."
He delicately laces his fingers through your hair. "You won't. Just tell me what happened, sweetheart."
You shift from one foot to the other, clutching one of your textbooks to your chest. "Cassie. She-"
His tone grows hard. "What did she do?"
"When I got into class she called me a bitch. I wasn't...I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly. I turned around to look at her and she just...she had such a mean look on her face and asked me what I was looking at, so I just turned around."
He clenches his jaw so hard he's sure it will break. If that stupid whore ruins what he'd just gotten to finally happen with you—making you his—he'll fucking kill her. Actually kill her.
He wants to make a scene right in the middle of the hallway, wants to show you just how far he's willing to go to protect you, even just your feelings, but he knows it will only frighten you away. Showing his devotion to you in extreme measures is something that will have to come in time.
He presses a firm kiss to your forehead, staring down Cassie across the way, who's watching the both of you with a devastated look on her face. He then looks down at you, lifting your chin until your eyes are looking into his own. "Just ignore her. She's jealous. That's all it is. Eventually she'll get over it and move onto her next flavor-of-the-month."
You nod, grabbing the rest of your things for third period.
He smiles down at you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. "I'll be there in a minute. I'm going to run to the restroom first."
You nod, heading to class.
Once you're out of sight, he makes a b-line for Cassie.
And the dumb bitch is stupid enough to actually smile at him.
When he reaches her, he slams her locker shut with one hand—causing her to jump—keeping it firmly in place against it as he stares her down. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
She shakes some hair off of her shoulder, looking up to him, back straight, eyes pensive. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"That's complete fucking bull. Y/N told me what happened in second period." He lowers his voice so only she can hear. "Let's get one thing straight, you desperate whore, if you screw this up for me, you won't like what happens to you. You have no idea the things I'm capable of—the lengths I'm willing to go to—when someone tries to destroy my life or take someone I love away from me."
She flinches at that—him admitting it—his feelings for you. And after such a short time...
"We had our fun, now I'm done with you, just like the other half of the male student population here. The fuck did you really think was going to happen with us? Did you think we'd...what? Get married, have kids, and live in a cul-de-sac in some fantasy where you're actually a good person that any man would deem worthy of marriage? I got exactly what I wanted and threw your ass to the curb when I got bored and you started acting fucking psychotic."
He points his finger at her face and she shrinks back against a locker, tears stinging her eyes. "Stay the fuck away from me, and even further away from Y/N. If I find out you've said another word—so much as come near her... Just try me, Cass."
With that, he steps away, heading to third period.
After school, Nate drops you off, promising he'll be back that evening to pick you up before the game, and you give him a soft kiss on the cheek before he leaves.
Once you're alone, for some reason, you feel like you can finally breathe. Like some weight had been bearing down on your chest all day and has suddenly lifted.
You blame it on the crowded halls and your noisy classmates.
You leave your hair the way it is, but change into something more comfortable before finding something to eat and sitting down to do homework.
In the middle of finishing your math homework, you begin to think of what had happened with Cassie. It had hurt your feelings, but you aren't angry. If anything, you feel sad on her behalf. While she was, of course, partly to blame, she'd still lost her best friend and boyfriend both, as well as earning herself an even worse reputation around school. You tell yourself the anger isn't necessarily directed at you. That's she's just lashing out in general due to being hurt and alone, and you're an easy target.
You're not sure trying to make nice with her is a good idea, however.
Your phone buzzes, ripping you away from your worries about Maddy trying to come after you next, even if she seems to have far less interest in you and Nate—minus that day in the parking lot—when you check it. You see that it's from Nate.
Nate: Be by around 6 to pick you up.
You: See you then. (:
Nate: Make sure to wear my jersey. 🏈
You grin at his finally using emojis.
You: I will. ❤️
You're left with a little over two hours to yourself before he'll be there to pick you up again. So you take another shower, knowing you sweated a bit more than usual today, then lie back on your bed and try to distract yourself with a movie.
Shortly before six, you dress in Nate's jersey again, and a fresh pair of panties and bicycle shorts before going out to sit on the swing in front of your house to wait for him.
You can't help but smile when he pulls up, butterflies in your stomach.
He comes around, opening the passenger door to the truck. Once you're seated, before you can buckle yourself, he does so for you.
You don't manage to say anything, such as telling him that him doing that really isn't necessary, before he shuts the door.
Nate rolls down the windows, blasting upbeat rap music on the way back to the school. You smile, thinking he looks cute when he's excited. He doesn't seem to exhibit that emotion a lot.
Then again, apart from winning at bowling, neither do you.
Perhaps the both of you are too serious for your age.
You lean back, a smile on your face, and he rests his hand on your upper thigh. You tell yourself you're fine with him touching you there.
That it doesn't make you uncomfortable.
That he's just trying to be a sweet boyfriend.
Once the two of you pull in, the parking lot is only sparingly filled. But the game also doesn't start until after seven.
Once Nate has helped you out of the truck, disliking that you'd already unbuckled yourself before he got a chance to, he takes your hand in his—his duffle bag slung over his other shoulder—as he heads in the direction of the field house. One you're around the backside of the school, he drops his bag on the ground, turning back to you.
He cups your cheek in his large palm. "Can I get a kiss for good luck?"
You hesitate for a moment. Then, "Yes," you say with a shy smile.
He smiles down at you in return before pressing you up against the brick building, then lowering his lips to yours.
He fights back a moan at finally getting to be this: your first kiss. The first one to taste you. The only person to ever have this intimate moment with you.
He opens your mouth with his, gently flicking his tongue against your own and he feels your body stiffen, until he does it again and you relax.
He stays like that for a good few minutes, his tongue tasting you, the sun beating down on his back as his form shadows your own, both your eyes closed as you, after seventeen years, finally find out what it's like to be kissed.
And it's slow and gentle and passionate. And you feel heat pool between your thighs.
You whimper against his lips and his cock hardens at the sound.
He pulls back just the least bit, his lips hovering over your own, which are now red, a bit swollen. "What was that?"
"I dunno," you say, gripping his t-shirt, pulling him back down to you.
He grows impossibly harder at the fact you want more.
He easily obliges.
He wants to move his lips down to your neck, wants to give you a hicky before you go sit on the bleachers for the game, but doesn't.
Finally, he pulls away, both your breathing labored. "Alright, I have to go get ready, my little good-luck charm."
You laugh at that.
He presses one more soft kiss to your lips before reaching down and grabbing his bag.
"Oh," he says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. "This is for your ticket." He hands you a five dollar bill. "And this is incase you want anything from the concessions."
He hands you a fifty and your eyes widen.
"I don't think a pretzel costs that much, Nate."
He shrugs. "Maybe you'll want a souvenir of your first game."
You stand on your tiptoes and he smirks, leaning down again as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press a soft kiss to his cheek, before whispering in his ear. "Good luck. And thank you."
He kisses your lips again before stepping away. "I'll look for you in the bleachers."
He begins to walk backwards toward the field house.
"I'll be there cheering you on."
He smiles at the image of that. "Maybe we can do something after."
You nod. "Good luck!"
Surprisingly, when you go to sit on the bleachers, Cassie, who's gathered with the rest of the cheerleaders, doesn't look back at you but once, shortly after you first sit down. It'd only been a glance, and then her completely ignoring you, which you're beyond okay with.
You'd bought yourself a water before finding a seat, the day still hot with the sun out, even if it's beginning to slowly set.
A sense of thrill fills you when the players run onto the field, your eyes immediately honing in on number eighteen.
You feel your cheeks grow impossibly warmer when you remember your kiss from earlier.
You watch as the players gather around their coach, Nate removing his helmet as they—you assume—strategize. He glances up to you and gives you a wink and you smile in return, blowing him a kiss.
Once they break, Nate pretends to catch it, pressing it to his chest before putting his helmet back on.
You can't help but admire him in his uniform.
You've never liked sports before tonight. But with Nate now being your boyfriend and out there on the field, you're completely engrossed. You sit on the edge of your seat the entire game, just watching him running this way and that across the field, blushing when you think about the two of you wearing matching jerseys.
And every time he scores a touchdown, which turns out to be a lot, you hop up from your seat, clapping and smiling, feeling proud of him.
In all honesty, seeing him plowing through the other players and tackling and just...playing the game...actually turns you on a little. Okay, perhaps a bit more than a little. It just makes him look so strong.
You wonder what he would think of that fact.
Once the game is over, the Blackhawks having unsurprisingly won, Nate removes his helmet, yelling and laughing in victory with the rest of his teammates. You smile, glad to see him happy.
He looks into the stands, searching for you and finds you in the same spot you've been in all night.
He waves his hand for you to come down and you do, coming to stand on the other side of the fence from him.
He rests his forearms atop it. "So, what did you think?"
You grip a few of his fingers. "I had fun, which I didn't expect." You giggle to yourself.
"What?" He asks with a smirk.
You shake your head.
"Well, now you have to tell me."
You look up at him from under your lashes and he can already tell he's going to fucking love whatever is about to come out of that pretty little mouth.
"You look really good in your uniform."
He leans forward. "Oh, yeah?"
You nod. "Mhm."
He reaches forward, gripping the one you're wearing, bringing you a bit closer to him. "So do you."
You kiss then, the taste of him now mixed with sweat and grass and fresh air.
He pulls away. "Climb over here."
Watch me fall or hurt myself, you think as you wedge your tennis shoe in the chain-link fence. Once you're halfway up, Nate lifts you the rest of the way over, and you wrap your legs around his middle, running your fingers through his slick hair.
"Sorry, I'm all sweaty."
You shake your head. "I don't mind," you say before kissing him.
You wait for Nate outside of the field house, leaned back against the red brick stones, staring up at the millions of stars littering the night sky, feeling so completely happy for the first time in you're not sure how long.
Once players begin to file out, you watch for Nate to be among them. When he exits, he glances in your direction, coming over to stand in front of you, offering you his hand. "Ready?"
You nod.
Once you're in his truck, he stands in the passenger side doorway, one of his arms resting against the top of the truck, his other hand against your left calf.
"I've had a really great night, and I don't really want to just drop you off at home, and then it ends."
You just look at him, waiting for him to continue.
"If I ask you to stay the night at my place, will you?"
You shift in your seat. "Doing...doing what?"
"Just sleeping," he states. "Maybe we can watch a movie in bed or something."
You think about it for a moment, not sure you're comfortable with moving this quickly.
"What about your parents?"
"What about 'em?"
"They won't mind you bringing a girl home late at night?"
He shakes his head. "I mind my business and they mind theirs. If I want to invite someone over, they're not going to tell me no."
You think that's a very unconventional way to parent, especially when it comes to him having a girl in his room—in his bed.
"You don't think it's a little early for me to be spending the night?" You ask gently, using a kind tone to try and prevent hurting his feelings.
He's quiet for a moment, now looking away from you. "I'm sorry. I guess I got too excited to spend more time with you tonight. It was a stupid idea. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. Just forget I did."
He goes to pull away and you suddenly feel bad. You'd hurt his feeling anyway. Something you had told him you didn't want to do just yesterday.
You quickly grab his hand. "No, I'm sorry. I just...I don't-" you scramble for some excuse that isn't 'this makes me uncomfortable'. "I don't want you to get the wrong impression about me."
He softens, stepping closer to you again, his hand sliding up your thigh. "Like what?"
You relax at the tension quickly dissipating. "Like..." you bite your lip. "Like I'm easy. Or...or a slut. Or-"
That same hand comes up to caress your cheek. "Baby, you'd never even had your first kiss before tonight. I could never think that about you. You're probably the most innocent girl—person, even—at this school. And like I said, we'll only be sleeping."
You look at him for a moment. "I don't have a change of clothes. Or a toothbrush or-"
"You can just wear something of mine. And we have extras, I'll just give you one."
Finally, you cave. "Ok."
He gives you a gentle smile. "Ok."
When you and Nate pull up to his house, you suddenly feel inadequate at the large home that looms before you. Two stories tall and very, very expensive looking.
You're so busy studying the extravagance of it that you don't notice Nate unbuckling you.
"Your house is-"
"Obnoxious, I know."
He helps you down, taking your hand in his before grabbing his bag and heading inside.
You glance around the foyer, but not for long before Nate begins pulling you toward the stairs. And then you hear his name being called from down the hall.
He stops in his tracks, rolling his eyes.
"Is that your mom?" You whisper.
He drops his duffel bag, which thumps against the floor. "Yeah."
"Nate, come in here, I want to tell you how great you were tonight!"
You take one of his hands in both of yours. "Can I meet her?"
He pulls his hand away without answering. Only, instead, giving you a 'wait here' before walking away.
You stand there, unsure about the sudden shift in his mood. It was like it had happened gradually on the way over and only became more extreme the moment her voice called to him.
Does he really hate being here that much?
When Nate enters the kitchen, his mom is making a salad at the island, his dad grabbing a beer from the fridge.
Marsha walks around it, gesturing for Nate to lean down to give her a hug, which he does, and she plants a quick kiss to his cheek. "You were so great tonight, honey. Your momma is very proud of you."
He nods. "Thanks."
He glances back down the hall, and then his dad speaks. "You left yourself open too much in the first quarter. I've said it before and I will again, you need to work on that, son."
Nate's fists tighten at his side.
He glances back down the hall again and immediately regrets it.
"Do we have company?" His mom asks.
"No. I do." He takes a step away.
"Wait, hold on. Who is it?"
He rolls his eyes. "Does it fucking matter? I need to get back to her-"
He lets out a low swear. He just had to say 'her'.
His mom crosses her arms, now interested. "Her? Did you bring a girl home?"
"I think your mother means 'another girl' home."
Nate glares at his father as he takes a swig of his beer. Finally, he looks back to his mom. "Yes."
Her brows raise. "Well, do I get to meet her?"
Nate sighs. He steps out of the kitchen, and you look up at him, now full of nerves. He jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen.
You walk up to him. "Is everything ok?" you whisper as he takes your hand.
"It's fine." Is all the reply he gives you before pulling you into the kitchen with him.
Your eyes look this way at that, taking in the lovely décor and the beautiful island and appliances, then looking to his mom, then his dad, who seems to be watching the two of you with no more than idle amusement.
"Mom, dad, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my parents."
His mom steps forward first, pulling you into an unexpected hug, but you quickly embrace her in return. You don't want to admit how nice it feels to be held by a mother, even if she isn't your own.
Finally, she pulls back, holding you in place by your upper-arms as she looks you over. "Well, don't you just look adorable in Nate's old jersey."
You flush a shade of crimson. "Thank you."
She releases you, placing her hand over her chest. "I'm Marsha, the mom. And this is-"
"Cal," His father finishes, stepping up to the island, reaching across it to shake your hand.
You nearly tell him you already know his name, but refrain, knowing doing so will only make this moment more awkward.
Once introductions are through, you step back to Nate's side.
"It's nice to meet the both of you."
"Oh, she's polite!" His mom chimes in. "I already like her a lot better than Maddy. Not that that's hard to achieve." She takes a bite of her salad, swallowing. "She was a truly awful girl."
Nate wraps his arm around your waist, but before he can pull you away and get you upstairs and locked away inside his room with him, Cal speaks. "Going through 'em awful fast, aren't you, Nate? That's what, three girls now, in almost as many months?"
You feel nothing short of embarrassed, perhaps even a little ashamed, at his comment.
Nate's grip on your hip tightens painfully for a moment, and you're sure it'll leave a bruise, but you don't speak, instead just bearing witness to the now-taut silence enveloping the room.
Nate steps away from you, going over to the fridge.
Nate grabs a beer, Cal going to grab himself another, until Nate speaks so low only he can hear. "Not nearly as fast as you, though, am I?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're such a fucking asshole. Leave me," he glances to you, then back to his dad, "And her alone. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours like we usually do."
With that, Nate comes over, firmly gripping your hand, and leading you upstairs.
Once Nate has shut the door behind the two of you, locking it, he throws his duffle bag down, then grabs a pair of boxers and sweatpants from his dresser before going into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
You seat yourself on his bed, wondering what, exactly, had been said between he and his dad to make him so upset. Unless it was the comment about him going through girls? On the one hand, it was kind of a shitty thing to say. On the other, parents sometimes give their kids a hard time. It comes with the territory.
A few moments later, Nate emerges from the bathroom, shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his hair damp and tousled.
You feel that same heat from earlier when he'd kissed you settling between your legs again. Then you tell yourself now is not the time—he's upset.
He walks over to his closet.
"Are you ok?" You ask softly.
He hands you a plain black t-shirt. "Here, you can wear this to bed after you've showered."
So he's not ready to talk about it just yet. "What about bottoms?"
He lies back on the bed, one of his arms slung over his eyes. "Nothing I have will fit you. The t-shirt is fine."
You accept that, padding into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.
When you emerge, it's in Nate's shirt, a fluffy towel wrapped around your wet hair.
He's still lying on the bed in the same position from earlier.
You rub the towel against your hair a few times, then drop it in his hamper before coming to sit with your legs crossed beside him. You're silent for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally, you just make a simple offer.
"Do you want me to leave?"
He shakes his head, his other arm coming to rub up and down your spine. "No."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He lowers the arm from over his eyes, which are now open, staring up at the ceiling. "There's nothing to talk about. I told you: he's an asshole."
You shrug. "He's your dad. Picking on you is kind of part of his job."
"That's not why he said it. It's not why he does any of the shit that he does. It has nothing to do with him being my dad."
"Maybe he just-"
He looks at you then. "Can we just not talk about my dad while we're in bed together?"
You withdraw into yourself a little at his sudden irritation. And how he had worded it. Like you're doing something other than just talking.
"Ok, I'm sorry."
He notes that your tone now sounds slightly frightened. He sits up, leaning on his arm, his free hand coming to grip your waist. "No, I am. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just him. It's always fucking him."
"Have the two of you ever considered sitting down and just having a heart-to-heart?"
He snorts, then looks at you like that's the stupidest idea anyone has ever come up with.
"Lie down with me," he says, pulling back the covers, which you then crawl beneath.
He pulls you against him, his arm under your neck, fingertips lightly tracing the tip of your shoulder. "Thank you for being here."
"You're welcome. I'm very proud of you tonight. It sounds like your mom is too."
He bends the arm that's not holding you behind his head.
"I'm glad you stayed."
"Of course I did," you say, resting your hand over his chest. "I thought I hated sports until tonight. I had a fun time watching you."
He looks at you. "Good."
He then slips his arm out from under you, your head falling back against a pillow which smells of cologne and him. He hovers over top of you, scooting you lower before he presses a kiss to your forehead.
You panic. "Nate..."
He looks down, but you grab his chin, which he doesn't expect.
"Don't look."
His brows furrow.
"The t-shirt sort of rode up."
He bites back a smirk. So you're half-naked underneath him, then.
He lowers his body onto your own. "There, now I can't see."
You remain staring up at him.
He plants a soft kiss to your cheek. "Is this ok?"
You're quiet for a moment. Longer than he'd like. Until, finally, "I guess so."
That's all the permission he needs before he starts kissing you. He teases you with his tongue again like earlier, since you had seemed to like that so much, before he eventually moves lower, pressing hot, wet kisses to your neck.
He moves from one side, and when he gets to the other, you jerk underneath him and whimper.
So he kisses that same spot again and your breathing quickens.
His cock fills with blood, knowing he's found a sweet spot.
And so he kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin, until your hips have risen up against him, your arms around his neck and you're panting. He flicks his tongue and you moan in the back of your throat, your control slipping more and more with each kiss. He doesn't stop until he's sure you're soaked and he sees that he's left a purple bruise in his wake.
When he looks down at you, your face is flushed, your lips slightly parted, your hair a mess. It'd be so fucking easy to have his way with you right now. But it would ruin everything to do it this soon.
"Did you like that?" he asks, smoothing some hair from your face.
You nod.
He wonders just how far you'll let him go tonight, short of him breaking your hymen with his cock.
He grips your hip in one of his hands, then moves it higher, to the curve of your side, then higher, until you reach down, firmly grabbing his wrist, his hand now underneath his t-shirt that's barely even covering you now.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"I-" you shut your mouth.
In truth, all you want is to touch yourself. Or maybe let him. No. You can't do that. Not this soon. God, what are you doing? In his bed, nearly naked—nothing covering your bottom half, which is now so wet your thighs are slick from it—and wanting nothing more than to tell him to keep going.
You've never felt like this before. But you've also never had any form of intimacy with another person before.
Only ever yourself.
He gives you a look of understanding. "I don't give a shit what society expects of you. What you think you're supposed to do. I want to know what you want, right now, in this moment."
Finally, after a beat of silence, you release his wrist.
He slowly pushes up the t-shirt higher, then higher, until he can see the bottom swell of your breasts, then he pulls it over your head, tossing it on the floor.
And he just marvels at you. Your naked body lying back against his dark sheets. He still has his lower half covering your own, but knows he'll get to see every inch of you before the night is through.
He leans down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and you throw your head back.
He grips your hips, trailing his tongue over to your other breast, now sucking on it. He looks up to you. Your eyes are now closed, head thrown back, mouth slightly parted.
He rolls a nipple between his teeth and your hips lift, which he pushes back down into the mattress.
He moves back to your other breast, doing the same, willing a whimper or a cry from your lips. Even his fucking name. Instead, you're so damn quiet. Maddy and Cassie had both been vocal—sometimes overly so. This he's not used to.
Finally, he lifts his head and your eyes pop open, wondering why he's stopped.
"Are you not enjoying it?"
Your brows furrow. "What?"
"You're not really making any noise. Are you this quiet when you touch yourself?"
You wait a moment, then nod. He just tells himself that he won't stop until he's changed that fact, then.
He dives back down, devouring your breasts again, then kissing between them, gradually moving lower and lower, until he's right below your belly button.
You suddenly sit half-up, leaning back on your forearms.
"Do you want me to stop?" He asks.
Your heart is pounding, and there's an incredibly strong pulse going between your thighs. A million thoughts race through your head. The most prominent one: is this why he'd given you attention in the first place? To make you another notch in his belt?
"This...this isn't all you wanted me for-"
"No. I want you. All of you. Being intimate with you is just one part of it. I don't plan on having sex with you tonight. When I take your virginity, I want it to be perfect. For your sake. There's just something I want to try."
He releases one of your hips, twining his fingers between yours for reassurance. While he understands your hesitancy, he wishes you'd lie the fuck back down and spread your legs for him.
Until, finally, you do.
He kisses down your stomach, then is pleased to see that you'd recently shaven your pubic area.
He makes a mental note to start setting you up appointments, which he'll be paying for, so you can get waxed regularly. At least he won't have to worry about stubble or ingrown hairs at that point.
When he's finally eye-level with your pussy, his throbbing erection grows impossibly harder. You truly are fucking perfect in every way.
He lowers his mouth onto you and, finally, you cry out at the unexpected feeling.
He quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, spearing his tongue, burying it in the heat between your thighs. He flicks your clit and your fingers tighten around his.
God, you're already so fucking wet. He blames it on your being a virgin—not that he doesn't absolutely fucking love it.
So he does it again. And again. He then swirls his tongue this way and that, sliding up your soaked folds—God, you taste fucking amazing—then back down again. Finally, he pulls back the least bit and he hears you whine in response as he begins to kiss your inner thighs.
At least he'll have this to use against you when the time comes: a bit of oral sex, leading you right up to the edge, and then denying you an orgasm unless you do what he wants will be a perfect weapon against you.
Finally, after wiggling your hips more than once, clearly wanting his mouth back on your pussy, he gives you what you've silently asked him for.
He kisses, licks, sucks, bites—lightly—until he focuses solely on your clit.
He hopes you scream when you fucking cum just so his dad has to hear it.
Instead, that fantasy is broken when you release his hand, pulling one of his pillows over your face as you finish against his mouth, your hips lifting, which he once again pulls back down as he continues eating you out.
He only hears your muffled cries—he can swear he hears you say his name—until you finally drop the pillow on the floor, trying to catch your breath as he presses a few kisses to your now-pulsating pussy.
He rests his chin against your pubic area, watching as you slowly begin to calm, your legs still over his shoulders.
"How was that?"
You feel dazed, your legs like jelly, even a bit sweaty. "Good."
He raises a brow. "Just good?"
You tangle your fingers in your hair, the pulse of your pussy just now beginning to calm. "Really, really good."
"You liked it that much, huh?"
You nod.
"How much?"
You sit up, your muscles now feeling weak. "I loved it, Nate. T-thank you."
He studies you for a moment, considering. "Do you want me to do it again?"
"Really?"
He notes just how eager and excited you sound. Almost desperate for it—for him.
And in that moment, he knows he finally has you exactly where he fucking wants you.
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs imagine#nate jacobs x reader#euphoria x you#euphoria x reader
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I loved the fire fin stuff you wrote, Can you write more headcannons about him and the reader trying to keep finn distracted while also trying to turn him back, pls
Subdue the Flame
➼Character: Fire Finn (Finn Mertens)
➼Tags (warnings): headcanons, canon typical violence, gender neutral reader, mentions of servitude, sloppy kisses, misogynistic comments
➼Synopsis: Fire Finn headcanons about distracting him in a fight during the Elemental special.
➼With the fire citizens heading for the Candy Kingdom it's up to you and Lsp to try and de-escalate the situation, mainly with you trying to defeat Flame Princess's newest champion while Lsp retrieves the jewel from Princess Bubblegum.
➼"Are you sure you can handle him? I mean he already beat you once, it’s like a more intense version of Finn... It’s lumpin hot." Lsp mutters as the two of you scout the area.
"Yeah, we just gotta improvise a bit. At least knock him off his sense until I use my secret weapon and defeat his hot headed butt for good!"
"You sound way too eager about this. But no dude you got it all wrong! the real Finn is still in there somewhere you just gotta play into his hero heart ya know? pull one of those 'I know the real you is in there somewhere' kind of speech."
It's hard not to roll your eyes at Lsp's dramatics, but if she's trying to tell you to solve things pacifically first, then sure why not. Like don’t get me wrong, of course saving Finn is a priority but knowing this prick fire version of him, it’s gonna take more than heartily speeches to subdue him.
"By all means, be my guest."
➼It goes as expected, Fire Finn just walks past her spewing something about war drums and threatens to slice her down if she tries to stop him. This is where you come in.
➼You're the only one who can confront Fire Finn either cause you're physically strong enough to match him in a fight or you have the mental fortitude to deal with the stuff he'll say in hopes of saving him.
➼Like, the guy was pulled in and created in a toxic and violent environment so that leads me to believe he's bound to say some hurtful things and make fun of you with low hanging fruit. For example, if you're a gal (or female presenting) he'll spew some misogynic comments about how he's biologically stronger "You don't stand a chance against me, I'm all hardcore muscle." or "You'll regret leaving your sewing room this morning."
➼If not, he'll still boast about how he's stronger than you and will wipe your face on the dirt.
➼Uses insults too. Mainly stuff like: nerd, loser, mouth breather, girlie, wimp, roach, useless scum, motherless bastard, to think of a few.
➼I don't know if he'll fight honorably (since the other fighters have kinda roman gladiator inspired designs) or fight dirty, but now that I think about it he'll most likely do the latter. He'll kick you in the shins and throw sand at your eyes, that's how he gets the upper hand when fighting you.
➼Dominant, ruthless and a huge show off. Overtime he gets too cocky.
"You're too much of a wimp, I bet I can beat you with nothing but my hands."
➼To mock you further he kicks away your bag and your main weapon but not without stabbing his own sword into the ground before approaching you with cracked knuckles, wrestling you into the ground as he continues to belittle you- albeit with suggestive undertones. "Once we're done with these candy nerds they'll be nothing left but cinders and ash. Maybe then I'll take you back to the fire kingdom as my personal training dummy... All for myself~"
➼You don't know if you're reading too much into this whole fight, but It's now that the physical contact makes sense. He tightens his hold on you, purposely grabbing you where you're most sensitive (that would make you blush any other day) before tossing you around like a sack of potatoes, the pain is real but it started giving you an idea.
➼If there's one mistake he's actively making it's that he's completely underestimated you and your brain power that compensates your lack of extra brawn to beat him on a one on one.
➼"Oh woo is me, you're obviously the better opponent. Might as well start getting used to serving you as you deserve." you cry out, causing Fire Finn to quirk a nonexistent eyebrow. He grips your hair by the back of your head, purposely raising you to his eye level.
➼"And how would you start serving me?" He asks, suspicious of your change of attitude but quickly allured by the promise of servitude.
➼You momentarily lick your lips, it's subtle but hypes you up for what's to come. "Like this," and you lean forward to kiss the fire elemental on the lips completely unprompted. It's a risky move, and considering Fire Finn isn't returning the kiss you're 90% certain that he's gonna slap or throw you away but the second you attempt to remove yourself from him he instead tightens his hold on your hair and pushes you back into his eager mouth, opening it up as his tongue dwells all around yours in unexpected wanton. You try your best to reprocitate but he's completely controlling in this situation as well, now holding your face with both hands as he gives you the sloppiest kiss you've ever had.
➼Underestimating how sharp his teeth are, you cut your tongue on it and has you groaning at the unpleasant metallic taste in your mouth, fidgeting in the spot as you try to pull yourself from his hold but it only served to rile him up further, running his tongue over the wound.
He eventually pulls you away to catch his breath, completely devouring your breaths as you exhale to take in the fresh air.
➼His reaction is more enthusiastic than you expected. In fact it's his crazed expression that ultimately snapped you out of your foggy daze, immediately taking advantage of his unguarded walls and you kick him where he counts.
➼Now he's the one falling like a sack of potatoes.
➼You suddenly rush to your discarded backpack as you hear him shout angrily behind you.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! I WILL MAKE IT TORTUROUS FOR YOU! I WON'T REMOVE MY HANDS FROM YOU UNTIL YOUR WAILING AND BEGGING FOR RELEASE BY THE TIP OF MY SWORD!"
➼There's no time to ponder what kind of punishment he's talking about since he's immediately back on his feet and just a few steps away from you, but the second you grab your hidden weapon it's over for this fire elemental. You pull out a plastic water gun and spray it all over Fire Finn, watching him shout in agony as he steps back as you blast him into submission until he lays beaten on the ground. "This is why you need a safe word my dude." You finally spew a well deserved taunt.
➼And to make matters worse and more humiliating for the fire kin, you snap a fireproof collar around his neck, courtesy of Wizard Betty.
"What is this contraption?!"
"It's a little something from a friend, a temporary solution until we find out how to turn you back to normal."
➼With a sigh, you sit back as you watch the fallen warrior attempt to rip out the collar only for it's safety mechanism to activate and spray him with cool water, like one of those automatic car window things.
"I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME!!"
"You're not in a spot to make demands my dude, so unless you wanna turn into a popsicle you'll have to follow me." You eventually stand up with a more nonchalant attitude compared to earlier, still wincing a bit since your safety now doesn't take away that Fire Finn pulled a heavy number on you.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" He threatens, but the collar activated again before he could lay his blue hands on your neck.
"Maybe, if you say please~?"
"DIE!"
#adventure time x reader#adventure time imagines#finn mertens x reader#finn the human#finn the human x reader#adventure time
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Could you do a Lute (hazbin) x female reader with fluff and smut?
Okay, here! The character hasn't been revealed much at the moment, so there will be a lot of headcanons here.
One of the main problems is that Lute is very sticky to the rules and his sense of absolute justice.
As you know, the Bible is not very supportive of same-sex relationships and, given that heaven in the series is based on it, Lute may also be against it.
But if we look at history, there were often lesbians in private girls' schools and academies. Yes, it was against the rules of the Bible, so they hid their relationship. And considering that Lute commands exorcists, among which only women and Adam, it is likely that she has some kind of minor interest in women.
In any case, if she dates you, your relationship will be secretive or only the top ranks of Paradise will know about it. This comes not only from the rules of the Bible, but also from its title. She wants angels to respect her and demons to fear her, and a relationship with you can not only destroy this façade, but also put you in danger, especially if you are exorcists too.
She is very proud of her work as an exorcist and after Extermination she brings you small trophies of the demons she killed: horns, tails, heads and the like. But if you don't like it, then she can come up with something else.
Her favorite thing to do with you is relax. She works a lot both in Extermination and on regular days. She has a huge responsibility and often after work she just wants to lie down next to you and hug you.
If you are also an exorcist, then Lute will ask Adam and Sera to remove you from this position. Knowing that there is a possibility of not returning, Lute is afraid for you and wants you to stay in Paradise for the sake of your safety and her peace of mind.
Adam, Sera and Emily are among the few who know about your relationship.
Emily thinks your relationship is sweet. I believe that Lute is in some way the bodyguard of Emily, Sera and Adam, which is why Emily considers Lute her friend.
Although Sera knows about your relationship, she is neutral about it.
Adam loves to make fun of Lute and that’s why your girlfriend will never let him into your house after hours.
I see her as the same woman who has an average apartment with a simple design.
Before her relationship with you, she did not visit her home often due to a lot of work, which is why her apartment is so simple. After starting a relationship with you, she gave you every right to change and add whatever you want to the apartment.
Now let's move on to smut.
She's definitely a dominatrix, but she doesn't mind and is very good at giving cunnilingus to you.
She has low sex drive. She might not have sex for months because of work, but after starting a relationship with you, she might have sex 1-2 times a month.
She believes that sex is just a release after hard work. Therefore, especially after a whole day of slaying demons in hell, it might be a good idea to go for a few rounds and change positions a few times.
Нer favorite positions are scissors, face to face and 69.
She doesn't see the point in sex toys, but she can try them if you ask.
Adam once suggested a threesome to you both as a joke, but Lute sharply rejected him. She believes that sex should only be with lovers.
Prefers to do this in your common home and does not agree to do it in some other place.
She loves lingerie and doesn't mind if you wear a cute white lace lingerie set.
Аfter sex, she will naturally be tired, but she will try to bring you a towel and water before she falls asleep.
By the way, her inner wing is sensitive and if you stroke it, Lute will become embarrassed and let out a groan.
This is all! I hope you liked it and I will be glad if you write some more requests!
#hazbin hotel#hotel#hazbin hotel × you#hazbin#hazbin hotel lute#hazbin lute#lute#lute x reader#hazbin hotel exorcists#smut#hotel hazbin smut
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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x21 Snow Drifts (Part 2)
Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.
Word Count: 589
Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (25) (26) (27) (28)
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Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.
They walked in silence for several moments, Killian shaking his smarting hand. He hadn’t taken into account how blasted solid his former self’s jaw was when he decided to wallop him.
“I wasn’t going to let it go anywhere, you know,” Emma said, giving him a tentative side glance.
“Pardon, love?” Killilan asked, brows furrowed.
“You know, that whole make out session with him…or…you…or…whatever,” she said. “I know he was expecting a tumble in the sheets–”
He grinned wickedly before waggling his brows in an exaggerated manner. “With a lass as tantalizing as you, I rather doubt we’d make it to the sheets. I’d probably take you right there against the ladder.”
He saw a delightful shade of pink spread across her cheeks and felt more than a little satisfaction that he’d managed to affect her even a fraction as much as she affected him.
“But,” she said, apparently deciding the best course of action was to pretend he’d never interrupted “I had no intention of letting it go that far, no matter how well he kisses. A few seconds longer, and I’d have decked him so we could get the hell out of here. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Oh I know,” he said, smiling. “You’re a fearsome lass, and you’d leave many a pirate quaking in his boots.”
She smiled back at him, and he was sure he’d be willing to do anything to keep that delightful smile on her face.
“Anyway, if you were, I don’t know, jealous of him…yourself…whatever,” she said, “I just wanted to let you know.”
He smiled wistfully. “He was a bloody git,” he said, his voice disgusted. “He deserved far worse than that.”
She was silent for a second, and he could tell that she understood him, that she knew he was talking about far more than Captain Hook trying to get into the skirts of a fetching woman.
“Killian,” she said gently, as they slowly walked toward Midas’s castle, “I know you did bad things in the past, but who of us hasn’t?”
“Far be it from me to disagree with you, love,” Killian said bitterly, “but your transgressions couldn’t have been anything compared to mine. That man lying unconscious on the Jolly… There’s no way to expunge the dark deeds he’s done.”
“Bullshit,” Emma said, and his brows rose at her emphatic tone as well as her profanity. “Killian, that man is you. You may have lost your way, but you’re a good man. You’ve always been a good man at your core. I could have defended myself if I’d needed to, but I knew I didn’t. Even at the height of your bad guy days and drunk out of your mind, I know you would never have hurt me.”
For a moment, this simple statement of faith rendered him speechless, and when he spoke, his voice was not quite steady. “You trust me that much? Truly?”
Her smile was just a little bit tender. “Of course,” she said simply.
The moment was charged, the tension crackling between them. Emma swayed toward Killilan, and he mirrored her action, his eyelids started to flutter as their lips moved closer…closer.
Suddenly there was a scurry of motion and a rabbit darted past, a fox close on its furry heels (Incidentally, do rabbits have heels?) and the mood was broken. Emma took a step back, her cheeks pinkening once again.
After a moment Killian grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Might we return to the topic of how well I kiss?”
NEXT CHAPTER->
#season 3 rewatch drabbles#captain swan fanfiction#my fanfiction#self-loathing killian#supportive emma
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A/N: My first request for this blog, that's exciting! I hope you enjoy because I certainly enjoyed writing it! Link to request is here!
Premise: Venture is the best at oral. That is not a threat, that is a promise. AFAB!Reader!
Warnings: None!
You turned off the lights before joining your beloved on the couch.
"Somebody told me this movie was really good!" Sloan throws a blanket over their body and lays back on the couch. "Then again, he has lied to me before..."
You didn't mind. You were plenty happy to spend time with your beloved regardless of what you two were doing. Before the air conditioning turned on once again you sneak underneath the blanket and perch yourself against them for extra comfort. The combined warmth of the fuzzy fabric and their fawn colored skin has you feeling extra cozy this uneventful evening. Just outside, the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon and the sky turns a beautiful gradient of red and orange. Inside your home everything is dark except for the television lightly illuminating the living space around you.
The movie begins with sweeping scenic views of nature and a group of friends wandering off the beaten path into the vast untamed wilderness of who-knows-where.
"Kind of reminds me of my last dig site! Except nobody died." Sloan comments.
"Well, I sure hope not." You reply.
"It would be so cool to die somewhere like that, though!" They smile.
All you could do is roll your eyes. "Then who's going to keep me company while I watch scary movies?"
"Didn't say it had to be me!" They defend themself.
You can't help but giggle at the idea of your beloved sacrificing someone on their team just so you didn't watch movies with someone else. The sound of your happiness makes them nuzzle you softly before you both turn your attention back to the movie once more. The start seems incredibly slow and boring that you can't help but yawn in response. One of the characters is frightened by a harmless snake slithering across the floor of the cave they've all taken shelter inside of. They all look at her and make snide remarks about how easily scared she is.
How exhilarating.
"Bored already?" Your beloved pokes your side to help wake you back up.
You playfully smack away their hand. "Sorry! It's not on purpose. I promise I'm trying to pay attention."
The two of you return your focus to the movie. For the next thirty minutes nothing else exciting happens other than a couple of cheap jump scares thrown in between somewhat tense scenes. No one has died yet– just a lot of screaming and cursing, which is hardly scary to you, but it's amazing what passes as a horror movie these days. You can feel yourself becoming drowsy yet again at the lack of entertainment. Then, almost from no where, you feel a hand press against the skin of your thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. You shoot upright from the sudden touch.
"Need some help staying awake?" Sloan asks.
They bring their face close to yours and place a kiss to your lips. You can't help but smile from the affection.
"Maybe. Got any ideas?" You reply.
"I got one." The tone in their voice shifted.
You'd never tell them face to face but their flirting was incredibly obvious. Regardless, it's not like you were going to turn down a good time... not with a movie this exceptionally boring.
You nuzzle close to their body. "Oh? Care to tell me?" You play along.
Their hand moves from your thigh to underneath your shirt and lifts it up enough to reveal your bare chest. You move quickly to remove it, discarding it to the floor where it truly belongs, and without any further patience you stand up to finish undressing. In one swift movement you remove both your shorts and panties, leaving them right next to your shirt.
"Alright, definitely more interesting than the movie!" They admit.
"Glad you think so."
A grin lights up their face and you situate yourself lovingly atop their lap with your arms wrapped longingly around their neck. You lean in to receive more kisses that you so desperately desired, curving your body into them and their touches. You can feel both their hands on either side of your waist caressing your flushed skin, unsure of where they start working on you in particular. Hastily they decide to knead the blushing flesh of your hips before squeezing it and leaving behind red marks in the shape of claws. You moan into their mouth before you have to pull away for air.
They place their forehead against yours. "You look absolutely stunning, by the way."
You softly giggle at the compliment. "You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
If you weren't already ruby red then their reply would definitely have you blushing.
Their hands move upwards from your hips back to your waist to hold you in place as delicately as possible. You begin grinding up against their clothed thigh to provide yourself some more stimulation and the wetness of your heat begins to lightly soak on to the fabric. In response to this, they immediately begin to bounce their leg to help give you the satisfaction you're intensely craving. Delightful whimpers fill the air as you reconnect your mouth to theirs for repeated feverish kisses, gradually making their way from your lips, down your jaw and to your vulnerable neck causing you to throw your head back for easier access. You can feel them delicately bite down and suckle your skin to place a hicky wherever their mouth could touch, all while your hand was tangled in their locks of hair in an attempt to pull them impossibly closer to you.
Heated breaths escape into the cool air for several more minutes before Sloan stops altogether and pulls back to admire their work. Your arms wrap back around their neck and you look down at them with your eyes starting to become glazed with pleasure. The bruising on your neck was already beginning to show and a satisfied smirk crosses their smug face. That look is more than enough to cause the heat to pulse through out your lust ridden body multiple times.
"I need more..." You beg them in the neediest voice you can muster.
Your hands move from behind their head to frantically grasp at their shirt to make your point.
"I know you do, mi muñeca... you're soaking wet. I can feel it."
You stop grinding against them long enough to lift up and let their hand sneak between your thighs to stroke your pulsating heat with a now slick covered finger. The light brushing of your sensitive nerves causes your toes to curl and you once again cry out for more as sweat begins to bead down your forehead. One of your hands turns to grab at your chest in a desperate attempt to chase more pleasure. You don't have the words to convey just how much you needed them, right now, in this moment– but you do the best you can.
"More!" You mewl and purr from the repeated stroking of your sopping wet core. "M-more! P-please!"
They pull their hand away and you're left as unfulfilled as you were before their touch. You whisper their name with tears forming in your eyes out of sheer desperation.
"I love the way my name sounds in your mouth. It's cute." Their tone is full of playful banter. "Say it for me again."
You don't have to be told twice: their name once again falls from your lips, dripping with need. You'd never believe them if they told you (so they think), but hearing you say their name... especially in such a frenzied, nearly hysterical way... they can never get enough of it. It had never sounded as good as it does right now.
"One more time for me."
So, one last time Sloan's name leaves your mouth– and without warning you're lifted from where they're sitting and placed on your back with their face buried in between your legs. There was zero time to register what had happened before they press a kiss against your folds and wrap their arms affectionately around your thighs. All you knew is that this was exactly where you wanted to be– preferably, for the rest of your life.
Using one of their hands they thumb your folds for better access before zealously flicking their tongue repeatedly against your throbbing wet heat. Your toes curl themselves once more as you reach out to grasp their hair to guide them exactly where you wanted them to be– though to be fair, they barely needed the help. Each stroke of their tongue has you writhing in pure, unbridled ecstasy above them with their name encouragingly sprinkled in between frenzied cries. All of the wonderful attention has your brain melting into a puddle of mush inside your skull. Surely, if you could just live in this moment forever then you would do so, repeating it for all eternity so the blissful feelings would never fade.
And their ruthless pace does not relent.
Through your reactions alone they were determined to make sure you were satisfied. All thoughts inside their head become fully focused on you and only you– not even Hathor herself could separate them from the warm, wet sweetness between your trembling legs.
No. Not Hathor, nor Aphrodite, nor Venus, nor Astarte, nor Inanna, nor Freyja. They couldn't, simply because Sloan themself could feel them all present in this very moment with you. All of the ancient history of love and intimacy is present in the back of their mind– and they understood.
With every passing minute they could feel your thighs tensing up around their head before your voice brings them back to reality, if only for a few seconds.
"I'm close–" You croak, your voice hoarse and tired. "I'm ready."
That's all they needed to hear.
Their eyes squeeze shut as they use all their energy and willpower to send you over the edge. Your legs begin to shake harder as your nerves slowly start to ignite inside of you, little by little the lustful spark begins to turn into a wildfire of bliss between your legs. The orgasmic feeling roars up inside your stomach before spiraling and exploding inside your hips as it sends chills down the entirety of your worn out body. You're panting and unable to form coherent thoughts before the lingering sensation of your climax crashes over you one more time– the final time.
Stars begin to float delicately in your vision.
You hardly notice that your beloved has already pulled away, wiping their mouth on their sleeve before giving you their lovably iconic grin.
"So, ready to finish that movie now?" They ask.
"We were watching a movie?" Your speech is slurred, borderline incomprehensible.
"Alright, maybe tomorrow then."
They look at you again, somewhat with concern, but mostly with pride.
"Let's just get you to bed for now." They add.
#overwatch x reader#overwatch x you#venture overwatch#venture ow2#venture x reader#venture x you#sloan cameron#sloane cameron
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Hiya!!! I'm new and I really like your fics:)
Maybe a Hank, Deimos, and Sanford (separate) with a S/O who is a bit insecure about their weight or curves?
Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Here you go :-)
Hank, Sanford and Deimos with an Insecure!S/O
Hank: He’s probably one of the worst people to go to when you’re insecure about something, anything at all. If you have a problem with your weight, then just lose some, it’s not that hard. It would take some convincing on your behalf for him to even understand a little bit that it’s not that simple, that it takes time and dedication and is just a pain in general. It’s not that he doesn’t care, but he doesn’t really know how to show that he does. He doesn’t have a way with words, he’s not very cuddly either. But if he sees just how much your weight and your curves bother you, he’ll try a bit harder to cheer you up. Although his words may seem harsh, he means well when it comes to you. Besides, he can just pick you up still, he’s always benefitted from a naturally good physique, so I doubt he won’t be able to. Will sometimes pick you up to show you that it’s not that bad. He loves you, he just doesn’t know how to show it properly. While he won’t ever comment on your appearance, aside from you being cute, he’ll try to help you otherwise. If you ever mention to him how you feel unworthy of being loved, he’ll tell you that it really isn’t a big deal to him. Hank wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t love you beyond that. Might get annoyed if you’re too insecure too often, but he won’t let it out on you. At one point, he’ll likely tell you to shut up and tell you the reasons why he thinks you are beautiful. Again, he’s not very eloquent, but he tries. Anyone who dares to make a mean comment about you will wind up dead very quickly.
Sanford: He has a healthy layer of chub himself, but he’s not insecure about it in the slightest. However, if you show any signs of insecurity about anything, he’s probably the best person to go to. Sanford is a very understanding guy and would try his darndest to make you feel better. You’re gorgeous, you should know as much, but it’s okay if you’re not aware of that fact just yet, you’ll get there eventually. He’s not too eloquent either, but he’ll tell you just how beautiful you are. Your softness is something to be cherished in rough and harsh Nevada. Definitely not above picking you up, laying you down on the nearest soft surface and just holding you for the time being. His hand will be above your stomach so he can squeeze it every once in a while. It just feels nice to him. You’re warm, you’re soft, you’re safe and for once he doesn’t have to worry about getting killed by some no one. Will also use your tummy as the perfect pillow if he ever feels like it, all the while complimenting you on how cute you are and how comfortable he is in the moment. Doesn’t take too kindly to someone else being mean to you. In fact, he doesn’t take too kindly to you being mean to yourself either. If it’s someone else who is making you insecure, then they’ll either wind up dead or with a few broken bones. If you’re being a downer then he’ll cuddle you and nuzzle into you all the while listing all the things he loves about you. It’s his goal to either get you to smile again by the time he’s done, or maybe even hear you giggle a bit. You’re the most wonderful grunt in Nevada, he wants you to be doing well, mentally and physically.
Deimos: If you ever mention around him that you feel as though you’re not pretty enough due to being curvy, then he’ll tell you that that’s fucking bullshit. Not only do you have a lovely personality, you’re also smoking hot to him. That’s one of the reasons why Deimos ended up with you in the first place, you’re everything he was looking for. Since you’re always there for him whenever he needs it, he’ll do the same for you. Like Sanford, he’ll compliment you on your appearance. You’re sexy as fuck, you should be aware of that. You’re royalty, you should carry yourself as such and watch everyone around you go green with envy. Although he hugs you fairly often as it is, he’ll do so more often from now on, just so he can squeeze you in his arms and feel how soft you are. You’ve got the perfect body and Deimos couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Besides, food is scarce in Nevada, you being chubby just means that you’re eating well, another reason why all those other grunts should be jealous of you and worship you instead. Again, if someone ends up being rude towards you, then he’ll break their skull or shoot them. Deimos has his ways of making someone’s life a living hell and he’s not afraid to use them when it comes to you. He’ll hug you, he’ll cuddle you, he’ll compliment you in a vulgar way as well, but you really need to realise your worth. Although it’s hard for him to abstain from touching you, on some days he won’t give you a kiss until you’ve said something nice about your appearance, that’s just how it be then. However, once you’re being nicer to yourself, he’ll go back to his usual self and smother you in love.
#madness combat#madness combat x reader#hank j wimbleton#hank j wimbleton x reader#sanford#sanford x reader#deimos#deimos x reader#I haven't written for these guys in forever I really need to get back into writing for them#I wish I had more time to do anything at all but alas I don't have the time to reread most of my old stuff#either way they'd be very supportive in their own ways. even Hank even if it may not look like he's even trying#he's just a rude and mean grunt by nature he can't help it. but he will try for you#but sometimes you just need you favorite character's approval and they'll give it to you#you're gorgeous either way. Sanford and Deimos will let you know that in any way possible#I'm also gonna go back to my old posting schedule. so I'll only be posting once a day since that's more comfortable for me#that way I won't need to stress out too much about writing and have some more free time as well when I need it#which i will need considering I'll be studying for my driver's license soon enough#I wanna get a good score and get it as soon as possible in all honesty so that that's over with
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im trying to wrap my head around why i dont get enthusiastic about reddit style fiction (not a dig but a descriptor) like scp and shit like that, bc its not that i can’t enjoy them but i think its like… when stuff is framed as if it were real, but its fiction, its like, well KNOWING its fiction eliminates a huge element of the intrigue, but also, crucially, i like character-driven stories, or at least stories WITH characters. but i also like it when things are interesting for said characters to experience, like, i want the ghosts and monsters and conspiracies but i want the characters to be character-ing, yknow? not that i dont enjoy slice of life and… what would u call the first thing, non-character specific horror? idk? but i prefer when its both. its like i love kirk and spock but also i do enjoy watching them Experience Situations when i watch star trek. i enjoy the idea of spooky national forest monsters that arent real but experiencing it alongside a character would be better, and i want more trans and gay characters whose lives are clearly trans and gay but i want a plotline to unfold too
#i dont think im saying anything different or interesting im just#listening to a wendigoon podcast thats one of his things just#explaining a classic reddit horror story#and ig i enjoy the concept of this one more#but it leaves me thinking like#ok so why do i not wanna hear about this that much….?#and also why i dont rly give a fuck about scp at all when my friends tell me about it#or the mystery flesh pit thing#and its the same reason i didnt give a shit about 2017 IT but loved the 1990 mini series. connecting to the damn characters!!!#i guess i ought to give shit a try again i mean i did read creepypastas once when i was a teenager and enjoyed it#i had a similar thought thw other day when they announced another new star trek aos flashback movie#not that it explicitly said anything about this sort of stuff but like#i just remember hearing some ppl in a college course i was in talking about aos and like ohh the flashbacks to kirks childhood!!!#but in that ‘discussing superheroes’ way of like ‘oh this is good bc it checked the correct canon box!’#like idk dawg i do enjoy fact gathering about characters i love but thats not why i love them?#ok that rly was a tangent i just dont vibe w scp. but if you put a mulder and scully situation in there with it. boom. id be there. ok????#its almost like theres a reason this formula has proven to be so successful over and over and over again
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I actually feel like you can tell so much about someone by the type of fanfic they write. like for me, for example, you can tell I really tend to go for hurt/comfort, as well as exploring things that canonically happened but were given like zero focus. with a sprinkle of canon divergence (not really AUs), "fuck you I do what I want" for good measure <3
#if y'all want i'm kinda curious what everyone's approach to fanfic is#are you fixing canon are you filling in the gaps of scenes you wish you'd seen#are you just trying to give the characters a good day for once do you want to make them BLEED?#do you love lots of far-out AUs so they can fall in love in lots of different situations?#what do you go for!
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#making my two favorite ocs like oh i’m gonna give you both sooo many character flaws you’ll be helplessly drawn to each other bc of it#river dipping#theodore doe#echthroi#cw drugs mention#questionnaire lb#hello all........ i come bearing good news: theo's doc is already at 9.2k words <3#not so great news: i actually still have 29 questions left so.......... um. i'm still not done...#😂🔫💥#i'll definitely be making some cuts for length once i'm done answering all of the questions#like i simply can't have this go over 11k at any point... bc that would be....... just too much. like just way too much.#editing is gonna be rough when i get to it like i can just tell but whatever kill your darlings etc. etc.#also :) i've been so good at not opening tumblr or letting anything else distract me which is how theo's doc is already this long#in such a short amount of time like!!! i'm really proud of myself actually!!#i'm trying to finish it quickly bc i miss being on here but dfjkhh when i took that three hour break the other day to catch up i lost all#of my motivation to write and ended up stopping for the day bc i felt like everything i was writing was awful and ooc 😭#so i'm holding off....... i do see my activity feed and i'll get to it i promise i'm not ignoring anyone on purpose!!#or. well i guess i kind of am but jsdkchddkj i'm just trying to get this done first!!#honestly i'm moving pretty fast tho so i feel like i'll have this done soon :) theo favoritism etc. etc.#okay... i need to go now........ i've rambled here for much too long#just felt compelled to drop another little update since my blog is inactive otherwise#logging out...... wish me luck friends and lovers
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My favorite Kingdom Hearts fact is that one of the biggest plot-holes that Nomura has never been able to meaningfully retcon or write his way out, a plot-hole so big that it fundamentally breaks the very rules the series is written on...
Is the existence of Steamboat Willie
Let me explain for the uninitiated:
In Kingdom Hearts 2, there’s a small detour in the story involving Maleficent trying to invade Disney Castle, the home of King Mickey. She can’t step foot in the castle due to an artefact of pure light that wards off darkness locked in the basement.
Pete, who is working for Maleficent, opens a door into the past (Before Disney Castle, this land was known as Timeless River) and decides to remove the artifact from it’s place in time so it won’t be there to stop them from getting in.
Sora, Donald, and Goofy chase Pete into the past thanks to another magic door provided by Merlin, and through some shenanigans involving old cartoons and teaming up with Pete’s past-self, they lock the door the villains are using, and return the artefact to it’s proper place so it can exist in the present.
You with me so far? Pretty straightforward-ish time-travel plot right?
Here’s where it goes off the rails.
Time travel would go on to become a staple of Kingdom Hearts going forward and would come with a very strict set of rules over how it operates:
1. You can only travel to a point in time where a version of yourself exists
2. You basically give up your body to do so, and travel as a disembodied soul unless you have a vessel to inhabit
3. You can’t alter the past in a meaningful way, what’s going to happen will happen
4. You lose your memories of said trip once you return, but your actions could leave a lingering instinct on your other self that could influence their decisions
“Wait” you may be thinking “Why should anyone go through all those hoops? Wasn’t time travel super simple that first time?”
And you’d be totally right, because the existence of Timeless River completely renders all of these rules and restrictions meaningless.
There is no version of Sora that existed in Timeless River before he step foot there, everyone kept their bodies, the trio and Pete were able to mess with the timeline as freely as they pleased, and they all very much remember their trip.
Nomura has never been able to meaningfully explain this super simple, easy way of time travel and the more convoluted method co-existing other than a cheap-throwaway line from one of the villains saying that Merlin “broke the rules”
The hilarious part about this line is that it implies that PETE of all characters is actually more powerful than the actual villain of the series, because Pete opened a door into Timeless River through sheer willpower and nostalgia for “the good old days”
But the all-knowing chess-master of a villain who had an evil plan several decades in the making with countless moving parts and contingencies to account for had to use the roundabout, more complicated method of time travel where a lot could go wrong.
Pete though? Dude just casually broke all the rules of time travel because he felt like it. He's just built different.
TL;DR: Steamboat Willie breaks Kingdom Hearts lore in half, Pete is more powerful than Master Xehanort, and I fucking love this beautiful trainwreck of a series you guys it means so much to me
I love Kingdom hearts so much.
#Kingdom Hearts#Pete#Xehanort#Merlin#Steamboat Willie#Timeless River#Kingdom Hearts 2#Kingdom Hearts II#Donald Duck#Goofy#Sora#Disney Castle#Maleficent#Time Travel#Kingdom Hearts 3#Kingdom Hearts III#Keyblade#Disney#Mickey Mouse#King Mickey
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Foreshadowing Ideas
• Character themes/motifs. I’ve heard of one writer who tries to give each character their own theme for similes, metaphors, descriptions, etc so there’s like a theme to the way they’re portrayed. You could use that to foreshadow notable secrets about the character that will later be revealed, or if at any point they’re disguised then you can use that to tip off the reader that they have the same motifs and so might be related/the same person
• Tiny details hidden in lists. Say the MC was trying to work out the identity of a bad guy, who we know was wearing a red shirt on the day of a big bad event. A few chapters later, MC is checking around their best friend’s room to find them, with the place its usual mess with discarded takeaway boxes, the bed unmade, a red shirt left on the floor that could use a good sweep. The red shirt might not click with all the readers, but those who register it upon their first read will eat it up
• Inconsistent behavioural patterns. Once we have a good idea of what a character is like, having them act out of character can set off alarm bells and make us question what’s occurred to make them act this way. Let the other characters register it too, if it’s reasonable that they would, but let them ultimately brush it off quite quickly to keep it subtle. Or just call it right out, whichever you prefer
• Unreliable narrators. Let one character say one thing and a second character say another, even if they both ultimately agree on the same thing but get one or two small details wrong. Ideally do this two or three times in order for the reader to know it’s not just a mistake in the plot but an intentional inconsistency, but even if it’s only done once and it’s taken as a mistake it’ll still slot together like puzzle pieces in the end and they’ll be kicking themself for dismissing it
• In-universe red herrings. If you’re going to add red herrings as foreshadowing, it’s helpful if the red herring aligns with the intentions of someone person aware of the upcoming plot twist who’s trying to control the narrative. Say the plot twist was the reveal of a mysterious character’s identity to be the best friend of the MC, the best friend might have deliberately thrown the MC off their scent by planting suspicions in the MC’s mind that a different character was the mysterious character’s identity all along. This is less about foreshadowing the actual reveal, of course, but rereads will be a punch to the gut when everyone realises that all this misinformation and red herring business came from someone trying to cover their own ass rather than coming from misunderstandings or multiple other random sources
#writing#writers#bookblr#writeblr#book#writing inspiration#writing advice#on writing#writing tips and tricks#writing tips#writing help#foreshadowing#how to write#writersociety#writersnetwork#writers of tumblr#writer#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writerblr
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Hazbin Hotel Characters Kink Levels
Pairing: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Valentino, Vox x Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, lots of kinks mentioned but not very detailed
A/N: Hazbin brainrot has fully set in. I'm watching the first two eps tomorrow so there will be spoikers on my blog but they will be tagged.
Charlie is slightly kinky, open to trying things but has hard limits at rougher treatment. Probably could be into being told what to do since she doesn't use her own authority much. I also feel like she's really into lingerie, she wants to look and feel pretty and wouldn't want to take anything off unless she has to.
Vaggie could be into some rougher things like hair-pulling, dominance and maybe even painplay but she'd also have a huge, huge praise kink that goes both ways. She gives me big strap-on energy so her being into watching it go in and out of you while she talks dirty would be a huge turn on for her.
Alastor could be kinky but he wouldn't think it's a kink. Like he could be into fear play a lot but not realize why it feels so damn good when he makes you tremble or why he enjoys it when you moan when he bites you and licks your blood away before he kisses you. All it matters is that he's having fun with you.
Angel Dust will gladly try any kink under the sun. There are few people more kinky then he is or more willing to tell you what his kinks are on the first date. He wants you to know exactly what he likes, how much he'd like to be worshiped for once, how he enjoys edging you and then swallowing every bit of your cum before it gets into his floof.
Husk isn't very kinky actually. Not that he won't try he just doesn't care about kinks that much. Degradation comes naturally for him so he doesn't mind you asking for more of it outside of the bedroom. Would get super protective of you though so marking you with bites and rubbing his cheeks on you would make him really happy.
Niffty is probably the kinkiest of them all. Seriously I feel like she's into super hardcore shit because have you seen her? There's no way she's any type of vanilla. She'd stab you and love you to ask for more, she'd probably enjoy being stabbed. Also maybe into CNC cause she seems like the type who likes to do the chasing and is secretly very assertive.
Valentino has a whole encyclopedia of kinks in his head all day every day. Name it and he tried it, or filmed it and wants to try it. Needless to say he's into rough play, handcuffs and degradation but I also feel like he'd be into having his cock worshipped and be into fucking in public, as in fucking you in front of those in the porn studio to let them know you're his.
Vox has an ego so he'd be into being praised a lot but he's the type who keeps his kinks to himself and his lover. He'd only reveal them too you and won't get kinky in public, only flirty. One of his favorite things though would be cockwarming because he has to spend a lot of time in his studio.
#hazbin hotel x reader#charlie x reader#vaggie x reader#alastor x reader#angel dust x reader#husk x reader#niffty x reader#valentino x reader#vox x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel
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Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?
I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.
I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.
I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?
Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.
Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:
It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)
Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?
Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.
So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.
It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.
Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).
And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.
You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)
The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)
Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.
(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)
Hope this helps!
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