#believe it or not this was just supposed to be a test run for the final piece lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emismunch · 5 months

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currently thinking about....

doctor!abby who you meet for the first time when she’s covering the emergency room. you’re a patient, suffering from abdominal pain and a high fever. it’s pretty quiet, and it’s also three in the morning on a wednesday. late night shifts weren’t unfamiliar territory for her, she only had a few more hours left and she would be calling it a night.

doctor!abby who greets you with a soft smile as she glazes over your chart, before introducing herself. even with all the pain you’re in, you try your best to muster the courage to put on your best face, but you’re in pain and it’s evident.

doctor!abby tells you she wants to run a few more tests after you explain to her what brought you back in here. she tells the intern to notify her when your test results come back in. she believes it’s your appendix, inflamed and your symptoms masking themselves as a flu doesn’t help. it’s why the last hospital had missed it when you came in a week ago.

doctor!abby attempts to stir the thought of you from her mind. you're a patient. she's your doctor, and she'll be your surgeon if she's right about your prognosis. abby can't think about how you're extremely easy on the eyes. how your eyelashes compliment your eyes, accentuating the darling hue she could get lost in if she allowed herself. your voice floats over her heart like honey, sweetening her up at her very core. it's sickening how she wants to swallow every bit of it.

doctor!abby finds it a little hard to believe she feels this way just after one brief interaction with you. she prides herself on being professional, being distant enough from the patient. she has to be, her focus needs to be lasered when she's in the operating room. she can't think of how beautiful you are, how much she wants to flirt with you, and how she would if she'd met you anywhere but this godforsaken hospital. god has a special kind of torture for making you her patient. she can just be your surgeon. cut you open, patch you up, and send you back home. it's all she can do.

doctor!abby wants to uppercut this intern’s jaw. it’s really not their fault, but you’re undeniably in pain and they were attending to another patient before giving your results to the lab. but it’s more than clear with the results coming back, it’s your appendix and she’s sure at this point it’s ruptured. fresh tears spring to your eyes as she explains they need to get you into surgery right away, before any further damage can happen.

doctor!abby watches as you wipe your tears away, embarrassed you’re crying in front of the stupidly hot doctor. it’s mortifying, and you hated to be like this in front of anyone. abby’s expression is focused, cold even. she reassures you the intern is going to prep you for surgery, the weight in your shoulders drops, but the pain persistent.

doctor!abby who is elated when the surgery goes smoothly. you wake up several hours later with slight discomfort, but you’re recovering nicely. she was supposed to leave the hospital hours ago, but couldn't bring herself too. the thoughts of you coming out of anthesia after your surgery, telling her how gorgeous she is and how briliant she is to save your life.

doctor!abby who was thankful you wouldn't remember her cheeks flushed, dazed eyes and a stupid smile from your compliment alone — thankfully no one to see how unprofessional she was being. how her stupid, caring heart couldn't seem to control itself around you. she blamed your eyes. they were too easy to get fall for, making her get lost in nostalgia, as if she’d loved you in some past life.

doctor!abby who thinks about you even after you’re discharged. you’re home, healthy, and should be out of her mind but you’re not. your existence stretched into every thought of hers. god, maybe it’s impenetrable, rose-colored glasses affecting her judgement, but she wonder what it would be like to see you out of the walls of this hospital. she imagines picking you up for a first date, holding your hand sweetly even if she was nervous — god — she thinks about kissing you the most. she would savor every moment if you let her.

doctor!abby who happens to see you again at dina’s place or more accurately, you’re waiting in the pouring rain, downright soaked. lightning paints the skies, cracking thunder rumbles making you jump as your rubs your hands along your forearms trying to regain some warmth. she’s never been more thankful for her loud neighbor. of all the people in the seattle area dina could be friends with it’s you. the woman she can’t stop thinking about, the beautiful goddess she dreams about is within her reach and she’s definitely going to take advantage of it.

abby softly greets you not wanting to frighten you, declaration of her appearance known as she says your name eloquently. it’s the hot doctor, oh my god. oh my god.

“dr. anderson?” you question, a hint of a smile wanting to escape and abby takes note. your hair is wet, silky, hint of curls forming. drops of the rain flow over supple cheeks, falling over wet lips.

yet again, abby is reminded of just how beautiful you are. butterflies swarm the pit of her stomach at your excitement to see her. you’re surprised but you can’t stop looking at her. it’s a relief, the hope you might feel the same as her.

“please, just abby.” so distracted by her, domineering presence you noticed the umbrella she had, shielding you from the dreadful rain. but it really didn’t seem too terrible. not when she was in your company.

abby was shed of her white coat, only wearing navy blue scrubs and simple tennis shoes for comfort. biceps sculpted to the heavens, slightly wet from the rain which seemed to make them appear even more delicious. you want to eat her right up.

“i’m so confused. you live here?” abby gestures to the house right next door. “yeah, right next door.”

“i was just coming home and you looked…..wet.” abby silently cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. it was worth it though, your small laugh an equal reward.

“if you want, you can come to mine. dry off, not get completely soaked while you wait for dina.” abby offers sweetly. “totally up to you, but my home is pretty damn cozy. warm too.”

the two of you are smiling like idiots. abby’s hoping you say yes and you’re thinking about how adorable she is, despite how physically terrifying she may appear.

“okay….yeah. i might be into that.”

“yeah?” abby’s voice changes, dropping into a tone you hadn’t heard before. it’s pure velvet and you want to feel it on your skin. you want to feel all of her. she leads the way as you stay under the umbrella, impossibly close to her as she protects you from the rain.

doctor!abby who gets you a change of dry clothes, a crewneck sweater and sweatpants. she can’t help but notice how adorable you look in her clothes. abby tries to do her best not to flirt with you as you’re sitting on her couch, but she fails. she’s asking normal questions, non-sequential small talk, but her hand is on your thigh. though the cotton is thick, her touch lights a fire between your thighs.

doctor!abby who nearly combusts when you start touching her arms, her shoulder, ghosting longer her thigh. but they find home elsewhere. fingers delicately smoothing over the end of her braid. abby can’t stop the way her heart stops, and then continues. the blonde strands wrap around your finger like a vice, clinging onto you as if it’s the sole purpose of existing.

doctor!abby who can see the ember shining in your eyes, the way you’re looking at her, like you might just eat her whole. fuck, she would let you too. she’d let you do whatever you want.

“i bet you look beautiful with your hair down.” you tell abby, inching forward, your thigh touching hers. “but you’re beautiful like this, too.”

“beautiful? me?” abby questioned as if it wasn’t obvious.

“don’t play dumb, dr. anderson.”

“i told you to call me ab—” her words just stop when you sling your left leg over, straddling her, grinding your hips just slightly before you fully press your weight on her. she sighs at the contact. feels s’good, having you this close.

wordlessly, you slowly undo her braid until every blond strand is free, her scalp thankful for it. abby moans as you run your fingers through her hair. your bring it over her shoulders on both sides, cradling her face in the palm of your hands.

“you really think you’re not? you’re going to sit here and pretend like you’re not the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen?” abby blushes, supple cheeks close to crimson, but she doesn’t look away.

“yeah, baby? you think so?”

“i know you are.”

abby lifts her hips cockily, smirking as the moan leaves your lips. all these layers, but being pressed up against her is doing something to you.

“i guess blonde doctors are your type then, huh?”

“only when they keep checking up on me when they didn’t have to.” your hands rest on her hips, as you lean into her, nose pressed against hers, lips ghosting over her very kissable ones.

“i was just doing my job, you know?”

“sure you were, dr. anderson.” abby grunts, aggravated you won’t just say her name again. she needs to hear it.

she can feel your breath on her lips, if she just moved slightly upwards, she’d be kissing you. she wants to, needs to.

“you want to kiss me.” your pupils dilate and your voice trembles.

“say my name and maybe i will.”

“so it’s that easy?”

“mhmmm, that easy.” abby hums, and her name is about to fall off your lips. tragically, dina walks through abby’s front door before you get the chance to. you’re not embarrassed to be found on abby’s lap, and dina knows it too. she just laughs and asks if you’re ready to go.

you whisper in abby’s ear before biting gently, “until next time, dr. anderson.”

an. omfg i actually like something i wrote???? wild.

#✭・۪ ⊹ ֗ ray’s works #if you're a med student....do not come for me pls #yes i’ve been watching a lot of grey’s anatomy and thinking about abby being my doctor #abby anderson x reader #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x poc reader #abby anderson x masc reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader

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bet-on-me-13 · 6 months

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Danny was born as a Halfa

So! Jack and Maddie are a little More insane in this.

When studying Ghosts, they become convinced that the only way to defeat the Ghostly Threat is to make a Ghost of their own. One who will fight on their Side. And they do believe that a "Good Ghost" is Possible, but only if fused with a Human to balance out the "Inherent Evil".

So, when Maddie gets pregnant they take the opportunity to try and make one of these theoretical "Halfas" by testing on the Baby in the Womb.

Jazz if Born, and she is not a Halfa. She is merely an extremely Liminal Toddler, so Jack and Maddie consider the experiment a Failure. They raise Jazz as per usual, and then 2 years later Jack and Maddie try again.

They have Danny, and this time he is a True Halfa! They did it! Now all they have to do is turn the Baby into the perfect Weapon against Ghosts!

Danny is raised less like a Baby and more like a Weapon. His Parents still treat him well, and give him some amount of love, but there is never any doubt in his mind that his only purpose in Life is to be the perfect weapon against Ghosts.

The only person who really treats him like something more than a Weapon is Jazz, who likes to sneak into his Room and play with him when they parents are out of the House.

(Later addition: They also have Ellie as a Kid a few years later, but because they messed up the process she is not as Stable as Danny is. She is 4 years younger than he is)

Then, they day he had been preparing for his whole life comes. When he is 10, a Ghost manages to sneak through a Natural Portal into Amity Park, and the Fentons send him to go deal with it as his First Test Run.

But when he gets there, he doesn't find an Evil Ghost bent on killing everyone in town. He finds a Teenage Girl, with blue flaming Hair, crying to herself.

(Idk how long ago Ember died, so lets just assume she died around 6 years before Canon)

He doesn't attack immediately, and when the girl sees him she invites him to sit with her. Against his better judgement, he agrees and sits with her.

She talks to him for a bit, and eventually explained why she was crying. Apparently she only died a few weeks ago and had finally found her way back to the Living World, back home. But when she got there she found that nobody really cared about her Death.

She had died in a House Fire, and because she had spent her entire night waiting for her Boyfriend to show up for a Date, she was too tired to wake up in time to escape.

Her Parents had obviously mourned, but her supposed friends and her boyfriend had hardly cared. In fact, it turned out that her Boyfriend had stood her up because he was cheating on her. So she had run off into the Park and sat down to Cry about it, where Danny had found her.

And Danny is confused.

His entire life, he has heard that Ghosts are Non-Sentient Killing Machines. That they don't feel any emotion aside from Malice. That they aren't People.

But this Girl is as Human as anybody else he has ever known. Perhaps even More Human.

He decides to ignore The Fentons Orders, and lets her go back through the Portal she had come through.

When he gets Home, the Fentons are less than pleased. They are Livid in fact.

Their Perfect Weapon was a Failure after all! It's too much like a Ghost to ever side with the Humans! It's just another Spook!

And they know what to do with Spooks.

They lock him up in the Lab, and decide to cut him open Later to figure out what went wrong.

They'll be successful next time.

Thankfully, their jeers to Danny are heard by Jazz in the other Room, and she doesn't like this one bit. So that night, she takes Danny and Ellie with her and Runs away. They need to get out of Amity Park, out Illinois even. They run and run, sneaking onto Buses, hitchhiking, even jumping on Trains.

Eventually they end up in a place called Gotham City.

...

Ages at the end.

Jazz: 12

Danny: 10

Ellie: 6

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Danny is Born a Halfa #The Fentons are Bad Parents #The Fentons are even crazier #Jazz is a Liminal #Danny was born to be a Weapon #Ellie is Danny and Jazz's little sister #She was born a few years after Danny and was born with a Defect that makes her a bit more Unstable than Danny is #Not to the level of completely Liquifying #But she will begin to melt a little if she uses her powers for too long #Now which Character will find them?#A Bat? A Rouge? A Cop? A Civilian?#Maybe Jason?#Maybe Oswald?#Maybe the Commissioner?#Maybe Dr Thompkins?#Also Ember goes back to the Human Realm a few days later to visit her little friend and finds him missing #She overhears a pair of Angry Scientists talking about “turning that half abomination into a pile of spare parts” when they find him #She connects the dots #So now she is racing to find her little friend before those two Insane Scientists do

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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😈Track 4 - I Did Something Bad

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Alex was standing by the iconic bright blue garage. It was almost time for the rest of the grid to arrive for testing, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was George’s post from three days ago. The paddle game and its players were still a mystery to him.

Who has George playing with? And why hadn’t he told him?

Weren’t they supposed to be best friends?

The Thai rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the numerous comments about how the two other players must have been Logan Sargeant and Y/n L/n. And if they were the players then that must mean that they will be the new Lamborghini drivers.

He scoffed out loud. “As if.”

“As if what?” a French voice sounded. Alex turned to look at his new rookie teammate. He tried to give the twenty-year-old a smile. He held up his phone, but the screen had gone dark Theo didn’t need to know that Alex was trying to find gossip like a middle-schooler.

“Just fan theories,” he muttered, opening his phone back up and exiting out of Instagram and back to his messages. His eyes widened as he read through the chat.

Theo’s eyebrow arched. “What’s wrong?”

“George wants us over by the media pen. We got to go.”

The two Williams drivers both started to quickly walk. Alex weaved through the crowds, turning back once every so often to see if Theo was still with him. For half a second, he remembered how he would just leave Logan to fend for himself. The American was often late getting to places because he didn’t know where anything was. At the time, Alex had said that he wasn’t responsible for his teammate.

But now as he was navigating the big crowds at Bahrain, he wished he had spent a little more time with Logan, making sure that he was ok.

However, that was in the past and Alex couldn’t waste time on it. Theo was his teammate now and Logan was off doing who-knows-what. On the inside, he was hoping to never run into the blond again. The American was just another sign of his mistakes.

He always believed that he was the superior of the two, often questioning James as to why Logan hadn’t been replaced farther into the season like Nyck had been.

The team principal always rolled his eyes at Alex.

“It’s because we aren’t Red Bull. We don’t want to drop Logan like Red Bull dropped you.”

That had stung, but Alex always internally laughed. Logan was inevitably dropped by Williams, just like he had been with Red Bull. The only difference is that Alex stayed and extended his contract. Was this how Max Verstappen felt?

Alex was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the back of someone and rammed into them.

“Oh, hey mate.”

Speak of the devil.

“Hi Max,” he greeted back, rubbing his chest. “Did your back get bigger or have you always been this broad.”

Max winced at the inuendo. Wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be a string bean like Alex or George could be.

“Ah, Albono, no need to be jealous that Max can probably bench press more than you.”

The Dutchman internally smiled at the familiar Monegasque voice. Charles had made his way over the moment that Alex ran into Max.

Theo was right next to Alex still, reminding Charles of a lost puppy. He didn’t understand why Alex hadn’t let Logan do that last year if the Thai was fine with it this year. The Monegasque didn’t have time to ask before Lando and Oscar joined the bunch. His green eyes flitted over to George and Lewis who were whispering to each other.

Lando had a grin on his face as he greeted the four drivers.

“Hello mate.” The Briton clasped Max’s hand before going around. Oscar followed in suit.

Theo, a little nervous around the older drivers, tried to make conversation.

“How are the cars looking?”

Suddenly he had five pairs of eyes on him, which maybe would have made others shrink away, but the Frenchman didn’t want to appear weak.

Oscar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They look good. Maybe someone will win a race this year.” He poked Lando’s side, making the brunet squawk.

“I’ll win if Max decides to DNF.”

The group laughed a bit. Max responded with an huff.

“For the last time Lando, you need to be faster to beat me. I won’t let you pass and if I’m behind you, I’ll just pass you again.”

He had a cheeky grin making Lando pout.

Charles turned back to Theo and Alex.

“How are you two feeling about the cars?”

The two Williams drivers perked up. They had been working hard all winter break to make upgrades. Alex would never admit, but most of the ideas had come from what Logan had said during 2023. They didn’t have a championship contending car, but they would be able to bring in some decent points.

Theo took the opportunity to answer.

“It looks all right. Hoping to make it into Q2 at least. We have good 1-lap pace.”

Lando snorted. “You’ll definitely make it into Q2. I’m forecasting no crashes in Free Practice.”

Theo’s head tilted. “How come?”

“Because there’s not a certain driver on the grid this year. Now maybe I can win a race without having to go around his debris. ”

“Lando you’re such a narcissist,” Max murmured, looking around hoping no one heard him. The last thing the Briton needed was another cancel culture on him.

Lando’s green eyes widened. “What? I’m only saying the truth. Even Oscar was saying something about it this morning. Right mate? Logan will probably never put a foot in the paddock again.”

Oscar looked down, semi-embarrassed, but also, again, he shouldn’t be worrying about Logan anymore. The Aussie looked back up.

“Yeah, I mean, he crashed out a lot and it was all his own faults. It’d probably be better if he stayed away for a bit.”

Max and Charles didn’t seem too certain that Oscar truly believed it. But the look in Oscar’s eyes did tell them that there was some truth. Max wanted to bring up the fact that Charles last year did crash out a few times, but he still had a seat. Charles’s hand on his back made him wait.

It was silent for a moment before George walked up to the group.

“The new drivers are about to walk in. Do you want to go with me to meet them?”

Charles and Max looked at him and eagerly nodded. Oscar and Lando shrugged, but agreed to walk with George. Alex said nothing but still tagged along, which made Theo follow the older drivers.

Time to go see who copped Logan’s driver number.

Alex truly didn’t want to see another car with the number 2 on it that wouldn’t be Logan. It wouldn’t feel great. But Alex guessed that’s what the past was, an emotion that just gnawed on your insides until it went away with time.

He once again ran into someone, but this time it was Lando.

“Lando, why’d you…”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as his eyes were now glued to the turnstiles.

There was no way.

Logan grinned when his eyes landed on the small group. George, Max, and Charles were still walking toward him and you, but the other four stopped dead in their tracks.

“Nice and sunny today?” Logan jokingly questioned as he hugged George first. You made yourself busy with greeting Max and Charles.

You and Logan had decided to show up in the Lamborghini merchandise. Logan was in a black t-shirt but you were dressed in a Lamborghini issued pantsuit. But for the race next week, the two of you would show up in sponsor clothes. The yellow decals looks great against his black shirt.

Charles smiled as he leaned back from the hug. “Looking a bit bee-ish today.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked down your own suit that had bits of yellow intricately designed.

“Charles,” you whined, “now I won’t be able to see anything else. Even our car is black and yellow.”

You let out a huff, but the smile on your face contradicted how you were acting. Logan walked up next to you and greeted the other two, which gave you and George time to talk as well.

“They’re still staring,” Logan murmured as he leaned in to side hug Max.

“Let them.”

The now group of five walked farther into the paddock. Logan had wanted to say something, or even look at the other four, but the look on their faces deterred him. With your arm linked in his, you pulled him along, also not giving him a chance to stop.

“You don’t need them.”

Logan nodded.

Charles leaned closer. “They were so sure that Logan wasn’t going to come back this season. I think Lando was betting that Mick would be in the seat.”

Your smirk grew. “Played them like a violin Logan. Making it look so easy for the rest of us.”

Logan barely glanced back at the still stuck drivers, who turned around to watch them walk away.

“They’re looking at me like I did something bad. But, why does it feel good?” the American male asked. His heart wanted to hurt because of how they treated him last year, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at their jaws on the floor.

Max snorted. “Because they fucked you up last year mate.”

George let out a gasp and put his hands over your ears. “No bad words around the children Max.”

You quickly batted his hands away. “I’m twenty-two George. Also, why aren’t your hands over Charles ‘vanilla is the best ice cream flavor’ Leclerc’s ears instead?”

The Ferrari-driver glared at you. “Says the woman who thinks chocolate is somehow superior.”

The two of you started to bicker as you walked. George, Max, and Logan laughed from behind. Logan pulled out his phone and took a quick picture before opening his schedule to see who he was with for media. He quietly cursed as he looked at the names.

George winced at the photo. “I can’t believe that they’re putting you with Lando, Oscar, and Alex.”

A quick buzz from Max’s phone made him take it out quickly. He smiled as he showed Logan.

“I guess they changed mine. I’m now with you and the wolves.”

Logan tried to feel a bit better about it, but he was visibly deflating. He just hoped that he could sit next to the Dutchman without having to sit next to anyone else.

Thankfully, when it was time, Max had saved him an end seat. It was Logan on the left, then Max, then Alex, then Lando, then Oscar. Logan hadn’t greeted any of them as he walked in, only giving Max a quick smile before they got started. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and his eyes looked over at John, his new PR manager. The older man gave him an encouraging nod as a journalist started to ask Max a question.

To Logan’s delight, most of the questions were for Max about the RB20 and if it would be as fast as the RB19. Max went through the motions to give his most mundane answer he could muster. Logan started to pick at his fingernails as he waited for the next question, which was for him. His head rose to look at the small crowd.

“James McHone, with News 5, question for Logan. Why did you come back to race for Lamborghini after a very unsuccessful rookie year with Williams?”

He wanted to wince, but kept his face neutral. He raised the mic to his lips.

“Well, uh, I thought I wasn’t done and hadn’t been able to show people what I could do. During 2023 season, I had multiple people telling me that Williams was the best I could ever get and to not throw away a good thing. But in the end, to people it seems that I did throw it away. However, now with Lamborghini and Michael, I think I can finally show that they made the wrong decision.”

Whispers went through the crowd at his last statement, but the genuine smile on John’s face made him feel better.

“Melany Lancy, with Circuit Noise, follow up question for Logan. Some drivers have mentioned that a possible return for you hadn’t been something that was believable and that Logan Sargeant should have never gotten into Formula 1. Thoughts?”

Logan took a deep breath before answering. He smirked and rolled his shoulders a bit.

“I know I’m a good driver with the right car, and Williams just didn’t have that for me. I believe that Lamborghini has everything that I require. The team has really listened to me and Y/n, my teammate, during the break. The car was designed for us. I hadn’t really heard any rumors regarding drivers saying I should have never been in Formula 1. But all I can really say is if they drop my name, I don’t own them anything. I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”

Logan wasn’t asked any more question after that, but he could see the embarrassed red start to fill in Oscar’s, Lando’s, and Alex’s faces. He hadn’t heard rumors, but he had heard them say that first hand back in Brazil.

He was quick to stand up and leave once they got the go ahead. He had a big smile as he made his way back to the garage with Max in tow. Somehow, the Lamborghini garage was placed next to Red Bull. On the other side of the navy garage was Ferrari.

The American could only laugh at the thought of them trying to put both Italian teams garages next to each other. Enzo Ferrari would roll in his grave and Tonino would have a fit. He glanced over to Max before lifting his hand in a wave.

“Y/n! Lo sai che a Tonino verrebbe un infarto vedendoti nel garage rosso?” (You know that Tonino would have a heart attack seeing you in the red garage?)

Max’s head whipped at the fluent sounding Italian that left Logan’s mouth. Logan chose to ignore and kept smiling. Even in the Ferrari garage, Charles’s eyes went wide at the sound. The Monegasque’s head turned to you waiting for an answer.

You waved a hand down like being in the Ferrari garage wasn’t a big deal.

“E piu come se Enzo si stesse rotolando nella tomba. Charles aveva fatto una prova del gelato per il suo negozio e ne volevo un po’” (More like Enzo is rolling in his grave. Charles had test ice cream for his shop and I wanted some.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Max just stood there in an utter look of confusion and bewilderment.

“Charles, hai altro da condividere?” (Charles, do you have more to share?”

The Ferrari driver was still frozen as he listened to you converse with one of his engineers in fluent Italian. It scared him even more when he truly realized that Logan was fluent as well. He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head before answering.

“Questi ragazzo. Sono io quello che finira presto nella tomba. Si, ne ho di piu.” (These kids. I’m the one that’s going to be in an early grave. Yes, I have more.)

Charles beckoned them over. Logan took the lead, letting a still very confused Max follow him. He finally found his voice once he stepped into the garage.

“Ok, but what the actual fu-”

“Language!” you yelled, licking the spoon that was currently being used to eat more ice cream. “Charles, I think the tiramisu could use some more espresso. It’s still a bit too sweet.”

Charles muttered something, but wrote some words down in a separate yellow notebook that had “LEC” on the front.

Logan had found a cup of some strawberry and started to eat it. Max stood still but was handed a cup of a familiar green ice cream. He looked up at Charles with wide eyes.

“I thought you said that this was an abomination to the ice cream society Charlie,” the Dutchman said with a smirk on his face.

Charles went a bit red.

“Well, you like it so…” he didn’t finish and just let the words die off. Max just hummed contently as he ate the peppermint flavored ice cream. After Charles finished writing something, he took a deep breath.

“So, when did the two of you learn Italian?”

Your mouth was full of ice cream so you nudged Logan. He put the spoon back in the little cup before answering.

“Y/n and I always thought it’d be funny to learn a language so that we could talk about stuff together and not everyone would know. I wanted to learn Russian but someone couldn’t tell the difference between the vowels.”

You let out a whine at his confession.

“Russian also doesn’t sound as sexy as Italian.”

Without realizing, Max hummed in agreement. Charles went bright red at that as well.

“Anyway, so when we were in F3 together for a little bit, we started to buckle down and learn it. Took about a year and a half to master it but we did.”

The Ferrari driver looked a bit pained as he looked down at his cup. If Logan knew Italian, what had he overheard when Charles wasn’t aware. Logan could only guess what he was feeling like right now.

“Charles, I never overheard anything bad from you. And if I did, it was only constructive criticism. I actually listened to it a lot and it helped with COTA.”

Logan put a hand on Charles’s shoulder to try to convey that he really didn’t care. The Monegasque was never mean or rude toward him, like some orange drivers were. And Logan thinks that’s why it hurts more. The people who were supposed to be his good friends were mean to him. And the people who he wasn’t even that close with were nicer. It made his brain hurt.

You took this as a moment to also confess something.

“Logan also knows Dutch.”

The American went bright red under Max’s eyes. The Dutchman had a big smirk.

“Weet je?” (Do you now?)

Logan didn’t reply in the language.

“Yes, I know some. I’m not as fluent as you are.”

“He wanted to learn it so he could understand most of your other interviews where you talked more about the car.”

“Y/n!” Logan whipped around and yelled. You only shrugged.

“It’s the truth.”

Logan then suddenly remembered something. He turned toward Charles.

“Y/n knows French!”

A spoon hit his head, but the American didn’t even flinch. This time, it was your turn to turn as red as the Ferrari car behind you.

Charles cooed at, surprisingly, the both of them.

“Aw, multi-lingual babies.”

Your head was in your hands. “I am never talking to you ever again.”

“Well that’s not helpful,” a male voice sounded at the front of the garage. Michael and Marissa were both smiling at the group of four. You slid off the table that you were currently sitting on.

“I guess that’s our cue to go. Remember Charles, more espresso, less depresso.”

You led Logan out of the garage as you followed the siblings.

“Je te verrai plus tard petite abeille!” (I’ll see you later little bee!)

You groaned once more after hearing Charles call after you. You glared up at Logan.

“You better be thankful that I love you.”

Logan put a hand on his heart. “Aww, love you too.”

“I still won’t hesitate to run you off the track though.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it tesoro.”

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing didn't throw away a good thing

liked by phoenix95, lamborghini, sargeant4ever, and 3,205,859 others

lambo_f1duo ok, but the caption slays 💅

swift_on_track truly is a reputations era, the black fits are fitting

charles_leclerc look, you even came in your little bee car 🐝

phoenix95 I will run you off the track with said bee car, it comes with a stinger

charles_leclerc ok, no more ice cream for you

phoenix95 I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT DO THAT

f1_gridgang man, this team is going to be top of the grid

lambof1 your honor, I fear they slayed too much

venus2 has posted

venus2 i'd do it over and over and over again if I could

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, oscarpiastri, and 5,305,104 others

lambovsferrari glad to see you back in the paddock bro, wouldn't be the same without you 💪

loscar_no_more BAHAHAHA NOT OSCAR HIDING IN THE LIKES

my_goat_logan you're going to come back even better than before!

phoenix95 picture creds would be preferable 🤨

venus2 oh sorry, thanks max for taking the pictures

maxverstappen1 you're welcome!

phoenix95 I still have Charles in my garage

maxverstappen1 you give him BACK

phoenix95 no.

charles_leclerc THAT'S IT - NO MORE ICE CREAM FOR THE TWO OF YOU (Logan let me out)

venus2 on it

ferrari&lambo_crew by I know that Enzo is rolling in his grave rn and Tonino is on the verge of an aneurism

tswizzlexf1 the I Did Something Bad lyrics >>>>>>

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 it just felt so good

liked by venus2, barnes&noble, dior, lewishamilton, and 5,305,201 others

booktok she's a racer AND A BOOKWORM?? she's just my type

venusxphoenix and Logan's too apparently

y/n.nation I'm digging the new layout and profile

venus2 you're welcome for the books

phoenix95 could have gotten them myself (ily and thank you)

charles_leclerc you're being...too nice 🤨

venus2 she loves me

phoenix95 gag (affectionately) 🫶

charles_leclerc SEE

maxverstappen1 it's her love language

venus2 it's the same as you and max talking about each other to everyone else

charles_leclerc low blow man, low blow 👊😔

rari_lambo_quartet I love them your honor

bee_lamborghini so ready for the first race

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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ystrike1 · 24 days

Text

One Husband Is Enough - By Go Seon-young (8/10)

What would it be like to have a charm level of 999? Everybody loves you. You just have to look your victim in the eye to have their love. Lust is seconds away from you at every moment. You have multiple stalkers. Wait. Being popular is starting to sound awful...

An everyday office worker accidentally curses her new body. She decided to max out her Charm stat, which completely destroyed the game story the second she reincarnated.

The maids, butlers, and men at the ball were all supposed to ignore Crochetta. She's just an illegitimate daughter. Her father, The Count, was just keeping her pretty face around to marry off. She's supposed to be the butt of every joke, but after she wakes up with Charm....men stalk her around the ballroom in packs. They fight over the right to sniff her dropped handkerchief.

It's horrible. Everyone who spends a minute alone with her turns into a pervert. An animal with only one thought in mind. Crochetta isn't exactly "Charming". That game stat measures how attractive the protagonist is to other characters. At level 999....well she's in danger all the time.

It works like this.

Minor characters like maids and butlers can't even resist for a second.

Other noble ladies will chat with her for a minute, before they randomly try to kiss her.

The men behave like monsters and they blame her for seducing them.

The plot twist is the three male leads ARE affected by her Charm, but to a lesser degree. They do "fall for her", but they notice how unnatural her Charm is. Which makes for an interesting story.

Crochetta's old fiance went mad the same day she acquired "Charm". He became overwhelmed with joy and jealousy. He was in heaven. He had the right to marry the most attractive woman in the land. When the maids dared to fawn over his bride...he went on a rampage. The walls of the Counts mansion turned red.

The family tried to cover up the incident.

The Count did it because he's obsessed with his daughter now. Now, Crochetta must find a husband that can protect her. Her father is no longer interested in marrying her off.

He wants to lock her away in the tower, and keep her Charm a secret.

His secret.

*vomits*

Crown Prince Ethian believes she is the ultimate weapon. A woman that can be used to make the political world his slave. If every man loves his Queen fanatically revolution and true power will be in his grasp!!!

That's his story, but he seems pretty obsessed.

The issue is Charm doesn't guarantee loyalty or sweet love. The Prince is incredibly lustful, and it's obvious he would have multiple lovers with Crochetta as his main squeeze and prize.

The Duke reacts more violently. Arnold believes Crochetta has poisoned him. His one obsession is money. He actually hates women. His immediate lust for Crochetta is literally foreign to him. He runs from her like a scared animal, but not before he pushes her around. She kind of deserves it. Crochetta is looking for a marriage of convenience. A man who can protect her.

Her intentions are not pure.

The Knight, Rosen, is a very chaste man.

He saves Crochetta from a gang of admirers, and he seems completely unaffected.

She kisses him on the cheek to test him, and even then he seems fine.

Then, her carriage rolls away and he drops to his knees.

The Prince proposes.

He says he will kill her if she refuses.

If another man marries her he will gain a massive amount of influence. A bride powerful allies will serve and die for.

Also, it looks like he is affected by her Charm. He's just not stupid about it.

He offers her what she needs, but he's too cunning to let her control him.

If she wants his protection she'll have to let him have....everything.

She visits the Duke out of desperation, because the Prince is terrifying.

He runs like a coward. Deep in his heart he knows the lust in him is wrong.

Crochetta also knows that chasing him is wrong, but the Prince is too damn scary.

Their relationship develops a little bit, but the Duke continues to resist her Charm.

Rosen hasn't appeared again yet.

I have no idea who the winner will be. Crochetta will have a heavy fate. There's no escape from the obsession around her.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Go Seon-young #One Husband Is Enough

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deceitfuldevout · 8 months

Text

Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

#dark!robert fischer #dark!robert fischer x reader #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #afab!reader #fab!reader #dark!fic #dark!fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark!smut #dark fic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut

1K notes · View notes

eoieopda · 9 months

Text

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

1K notes · View notes

wolfiesmoon · 2 months

Text

Who is who again?

Riddle, Vil, Idia (seperately) x gn!reader

i was thinking and thinking and then i remembered that basic overdone fanfiction tropes do in fact exist, so here's a silly lil bodyswap fic for the soul

yuu is a little silly prankster goofster who likes messing around and trolling people in this fic, just saying in advance that i did inject a bit of personality in them

also i apologise if the fanfic becomes confusing to read at any point, it's kind of hard writing the reader's actions while in someone else's body, especially when interacting with the person you're swapped with haha

‧₊˚✩彡 Riddle Rosehearts

"Okay, so you're tellin' me that you're Riddle, and you're the Prefect?" Cater pointed to each of you respectively, still trying to grasp the situation. Trey, Ace and Deuce seemed equaly stumped.

"Yep. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I'm in Riddle's body now." you replied, shrugging casually. "You shouldn't have told them so early on, Riddle, I wanted to mess around a bit."

"Oh, now I'm very glad I told them so early. Knowing you, you'd cause far too much trouble for me to be able to uphold my reputation." Riddle shuddered, imagining the silly pranks you'd pull on everyone while in his body. Well, I suppose they wouldn't be very silly to him.

"Wait. If I'm in your body, does that..."

You quickly took out Riddle's magical pen and pointed it towards Ace, yelling out "Off with your head!"

To your surprise, it actually worked and Ace had a collar around his neck. So you can use magic now.

"HEY! Why did you do that!?" Ace called you out.

"It's revenge for stealing the bit of food I was saving for last on Friday. And also, I needed someone to test out whether I can use magic now." you smirked mischeviously at his annoyance. Now this is fun.

"This still feels unreal. I cannot believe I'm looking at myself talking to someone else. And fooling around like an idiot, too." Riddle did not seem amused.

"Listen, okay, I finally have magic now and I'm gonna take advantage of that. Which means you better run, Cater." you rubbed your hands together evilly.

"What?! Why me?!" Cater was not prepared for this attack.

"Too much magicam. Not enough reality. Collar needed." you explain like a robot overlord and point Riddle's magical pen at Cater.

"Now, now, let's not do that, okay?" Trey gently wrapped his hand around the magical pen in your outstretched hand, smiling at you.

You were about to shake his hand off and proceed with your collaring plan, but you got a better idea.

"No, no, you're right." you shook your head, lowering your hand. Cater breathed a sigh of relief.

"Since I'm Riddle and all, I have to uphold a perfect test score on every test." everyone looked at you, wondering where you were going with this.

"This might be an awkward time to mention that I haven't studied for tommorow's test at all."

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You are coming with me." Riddle was not about to let his grades slip by such a wide margin. He'll make you memorise things until atleast a 90% is guaranteed, as much as he would hate to get one.

Originally, he was going to try and figure out how to switch you back as soon as possible but that'll have to wait after tommorow it seems.

"WAIT, CAN YOU LIKE, ATLEAST REMOVE THIS COLLAR BEFORE YOU LEAVE?!" Ace yelled behind you but you just whistled innocently, not paying attention to his despair.

"That's how the Queen's succesor managed to- are you even listening?"

"You know, it looks kind of funny when I'm being scolded by myself." you yawned, placing your chin on your arms which were currently crossed on the table.

"This is NO laughing matter. My grades are at stake here." Riddle scolded you some more. You nodded sleepily and he took that as a sign to continue.

"So as I was saying- What are you doing now?" Riddle followed your line of sight, his gaze falling on the mirror inside his room. You were looking at him?

"Woah... You're, like, actually pretty cute." you turned back to him, excited at your discovery.

"...What are you blabbering on about? This is NO time to be fooling around, as I have been telling you for the past- Wow, you really are hopeless." Riddle sighed, watching you examine his face in his mirror and still not listening to the magical history lesson.

It does not help at all that you made him lose composure with that "cute" comment.

"Your eyelashes are nice." You comment, smiling at your own reflection.

"What an oddly specific compliment." Still, Riddle felt all weird inside when you said that. This is not fair. Now he can't focus on teaching you anymore.

"It's not oddly specific, really. Guys have really great eyelashes sometimes." You batted your lashes at the mirror and then at him, trying to showcase his charm.

"That is... very strange. Please stop that." Riddle still felt weird about seeing his own face make such silly expressions.

"Hey, if I were in my own body right now I would be swooning over you. Just for your information." You rolled your eyes playfully, entirely insistant on getting out of studying by flustering the hell out of poor Riddle.

"Wha- That's it, off with your-" Riddle reached for the magical pen which would normally be in one's pocket, only to realise that you don't even own one. Of course.

"Oh, Riddle. You silly goose. I'm the one in power here." You intertwined your fingers like a supervillain.

"Please, let's just get back to studying." If Riddle were in his own body right now, his face would be red all over from embarrasment.

"If you insist." You sighed in feigned defeat, your mind already cooking up more plans to embarrass Riddle while you're in his body.

How very fun indeed.

"Why are you smiling at me like that? That kind of smile does not suit my face." Riddle seemed concerned about his body's fate.

"Hmmm, I wonder how many drinks I can order at the Mostro lounge in one sitting." You wondered aloud on purpose.

"What?!"

"What? I didn't even say anything this time." you faked your innocence.

This is going to be a nightmare for Riddle, isn't it?

‧₊˚✩彡 Vil Schoenheit

"Oh. My. God." you lightly slapped your cheeks while looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure this is reality.

Well, you suppose they aren't exactly your cheeks. You're currently inside Vil freaking Schoenheit's body and you have no idea how it happened.

You do suppose all logic kind of gets thrown out the window in a world where magic exists, so swapping bodies with someone might not be that outlandish. Now you wonder if you're the only one who this happened to, and what your body is up to.

Speaking of being Vil Schoenheit now, does that mean you have to uphold his insanely strict daily routine now?

Nah, who are you kidding? You're going to cause as much trouble as you can for this pretty boy. He wakes up much earlier than you thought, so you don't know what to do right now. You walk around his room, inspecting every corner for some prank ammunition.

Rook knocked on the door all of a sudden, telling Vil that he's worried since he's taking longer than usual. You let him into the room.

You decided that you're not going to tell anyone that you're actually not Vil and and act as him for as long as you possibly can.

"Oh, I was just... thinking about something." you grinned evilly at the mirror, before turning back to face Rook.

"Oh my, it seems you were so lost in thought that you've completely forgone doing your hair and makeup. Quite the unpleasant surprise. What troubles you so?" Rook seemed utterly hearbroken.

Wow, he's blunt sometimes. Not that you care about that right now.

"I was just thinking that I'll probably skip all that today. You know, going for a natural look." You twirled a piece of Vil's hair in your hand.

Rook tried convincing you otherwise but you shooed him out, not wanting to hear anything about how 'a natural look also involves doing subtle, light makeup'. You're on a mission here.

Speaking of, you just got a great idea.

You opened his Magicam after getting dressed, briefly gawking at the follower count before clicking on the 'new post' button.

You placed Vil's phone horizontally against your chest, taking an unflattering chin photo and posting it to magicam with the caption "#chinningtime😍😍😍😍", giggling like an idiot all the while.

Within a minute, your post has already gained about 2 thousand likes and loads of very confused (and amused) comments.

What great encouragement to post another one.

You placed the selfie camera of his phone close to your forehead, taking a forehead touch perspective pic. You added the caption "what my kitten sees😈💯🔥" and posted it.

You were laughing your ass off at all the comments when someone knocked at the door. "Roi du Poison, this is an intervention. I am very concerned about you."

Hahahaha, of course he would be one of the first people to worry about you.

Rook joined you once again in your room, explaining how concerned he is about your behavior this morning and how it's very unlike you. I mean, jeez, is Vil allergic to fun or something?

However, Rook wasn't the only one that had concerns with you, it seems.

"Would you care to explain what these are?" you were surprised to hear your own voice, turning your gaze back to the door where you were standing with a very displeased face, holding up your phone with the two selfies you took earlier. It feels dystopian to see yourself standing right in front of you. Out of body experience, for real.

"Wait. Before anything, just who are you?" you wanted to know just who was in your body, though you were already about 90% sure of it.

"Ah, Trickster. What brings you into Pomefiore?" Rook questioned internally how Vil doesn't recognise you.

"For your information, I am Vil. That other person next to you is not Vil. I'd assume you're the prefect, then?" he looked you with authority, leaving no room for stalling or avoiding his question.

"Yeah, yeah. You got me. But like, it's funny, right?" you shrugged, smiling goofily.

Vil dragged you off to the headmage's office, promising to explain things to Rook later and giving a firm scolding to you.

"Now that everything is finally sorted and we're excused from class for the day, would care to delete those... unflattering posts, please?" once the two of you were back in Vil's room, he immediately brought up that topic.

By now, they had to have gathered about 70k likes, right? Hehehehe.

"Do not smile at me like that. Or I will take back my phone and delete those horrid photos myself. Do you even realise what a PR nightmare this could be?" he placed his hands on his hips. You feel like you look completely different now that Vil's mannerisms are reflected on your own body. Body language really makes a man, huh?

"Oh, come onnnn, your fans love it. Everyone's laughing and saying how surprising it is to see you post something like this. See, they even got the hashtag #chinningtime trending!" you showed him pictures of his fans taking the same unflattering chin photos.

"What joy does someone derive from selfies as horrible as that? You made me look utterly horrible with those angles." You watched your own face contort with cringe. It's amusing how funny you look.

"People love silly things from time to time. For a celebrity as serious and professional as you, occasional silliness makes you look more relatable to your fans. A celebrity with a good sense of humor is the best kind in my opinion." you gave him a happy thumbs up. It was also for your own amusement, but you really don't feel like getting scolded even more than you have on your way back to the dorm.

"That is... the smartest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth." He sighed, "I suppose it would cause people to talk about it even more if I deleted them now. But I am still not happy about them."

You ignored the jab at your intelligence, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. "You know, Vil, you can let loose from time to time. Smile and goof around without worrying what someone might think." your eyes travelled down the sculpted jawline of your new reflection.

"In a way, you're right for suggesting that. But I'm not someone who enjoys your sense of humor or relaxed philosophy to begin with." he was right. He only jokes on occasion and his jokes aren't very goofy.

"You're right..." now that you technically are him, you can see first hand how much he cares about his body. His skin is soft and gleaming, his hair is healthy and shiny and his body is nice to move around in.

"You seem lost in thought. It's unlike you." you looked back at him through the mirror.

"I just thought about how admirable you are. Like, damn, I could nevaaa." Vil inferred you were talking about his strict daily routine. You seem different now. More quiet and thoughtful than usual. And he definitely didn't miss the pink dusting his cheeks on his own face through the mirror's reflection.

"Thank you." 'admirable' is a compliment slightly rarer than the usual ones talking about his beauty.

"By the way, your smile is beautiful. Not the one in all the movies, the one you don't consciously make." you closed your eyes, recalling that exact face of his. Too pretty for his own good, that man.

"Thank... you. You seem in a great mood to compliment me. Surely you don't think this will be enough to make up for the selfies, because it is not." at this point, even Vil didn't know what to think. The smile he doesn't consciously make, huh...

"Nah, those were just random ones I wanted to get off my mind. Oh, by the way, I don't know how to do your makeup look. Care to do it for me, pookie bear?" you sprung up from the chair at the vanity table, already getting excited about messing him up on purpose by opening your eyes when he tells you not to or moving your lips away from the lipstick, making it smudge.

You got way too sentimental for a moment there. And you're sure he noticed.

"Back to your regular self, I see. Fine, I will make myself look beautiful, as always." he smiled confidently. Though he himself has become curious about that side of you now.

Do you really think of him as a victim of your little pranks like everyone else, or are you hiding something else behind your silly smile?

‧₊˚✩彡 Idia Shroud

You were surprised to find a different voice calling out to you in the morning and telling you to wake up, one that sounded more cheerful, peppy, childlike.

And sure enough, it was Ortho's face that greeted you instead of your usual furry friend Grim.

As it turns out, you woke up in Idia's body this morning. What a lovely surprise.

You mean that both sarcastically and in the regular sense.

While you were explaining what was happening to a confused and worried Ortho, Idia's phone started buzzing somewhere in the bed. This dude sleeps with his phone inside his bed? Well, you suppose you have no time for judgement when the phone call might be important.

You rummage through his bed and eventually extract his phone. It was your number calling him.

When you pick up, you hear your own panicked voice on the other end. "U-Um, is this- Are you- How do..."

"Yes, I'm the Prefect. Looks like we switched bodies overnight." you inferred that he wanted to know who exactly just picked up the phone.

"How exactly do you think that happened? I mean, that's NOT normal." your voice on the other end seemed much calmer now.

"Hm, I have no clue, but I do know that I'm going to have loads of fun..." you grinned widely, catching a glimpse of yourself on Idia's dark phone screen and flinching slightly. You're definitely not going to get used to looking like someone else for a while. Especially if your new appearance is as unique as Idia's.

"What do you mean by that? Seriously, wha-" you ended the call before your voice could finish the sentence.

"Hehehehe... I bet he's panicking so hard right now." you giggled to yourself, still feeling a little weird about the fact that it's Idia's voice coming out of your mouth instead of your own.

"Brothe- No, Prefect. Who was that?" it was adorable how worried Ortho was over his brother. Or you, you suppose.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it..." you patted Ortho's head, hand moving over his flames with interest. "Go ahead and have fun, I'll be here if you need me." you gently shooed Ortho out of Idia's room to execute your master trolling plan.

You sat behind Idia's computer, booting it up. His computer works really fast, which isn't all that surprising considering his skills. He probably built the whole PC from scratch.

Surely, Idia won't mind if you play his games for a bit. You just want to see how far he's gotten. How many items he's saved up.

Hehehe.

You opened up one of the games you've been dabbling in yourself a bit, giggling to yourself about the random anime girl backround.

"Jeez, he's basically pro at this point." you went through his obtained characters and all the stats on most characters were maxed out.

But, since he still hasn't obtained the new character AND he has loads of gems in his inventory, he surely won't mind if you do the work for him, right?

You started pulling for characters in the gacha, waiting for the little indicator that you got a rare character. The flames of your hair flickered more and more with each pull, knowing you were getting closer.

Just when you got the pull animation you were looking for, the door to his room burst open and you saw yourself, all panicked and panting. Took him long enough, jeez.

"Oh, hi, me! I was just pulling for this character on your behalf, and-" you glance at the monitor "Looks like I won the fifty/fifty, hehe~" you acted cute and innocent.

"W-W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! I didn't- I didn't want this character! I was saving up for the re-run, and- Agh!" Idia pushed you away from his keyboard, and he stared at the screen with pure horror in his eyes. You wonder what color his hair would be if he were in his body right now. But as it stands, his flames are flickering happily above your head at a succesful trolling attempt.

"Just buy more gems, bae. Money solves all your problems." you pat his head, kinda cringed out by the way your face can contort when it's making faces candidly. You really look like that when in despair, huh?

Idia ignored the way the casual pet name made him feel. He's supposed to be furious at you right now, not flustered.

"Noooooooo, this is the worst day of my life...." he hid his face in his hands.

"You know what, though? Look at the bright side! I get to figure out how your hair looks when it's wet. I doubt you'd do it yourself and I've been morbidly curious for a while." you patted his shoulder in an overly cheerful manner.

"Wha- Abso-freaking-lutely not. You're a weirdo of the third degree." he crossed his arms, still feeling a bit heartbroken over his videogames being tampered with.

"Is it that weird that I find your hair pretty?" you run your hand through his hair for the thousandth time this morning. It just feels so strange, yet nice under your fingers.

"Finding out if I become bald when my hair gets wet doesn't seem like something a hair admirer would do, but IDK, maybe my definition is different from yours." Idia shrugs, scowl still as big as ever.

"But really, I am an admirer. I kept looking at myself or, well, you in your phone camera this morning because your hair is just so pretty. Watching your hair fluctuate with your emotions is always a fun sight, too. Like damn, your hair is literally on fire, how cool is that?" you explain your thoughts, twirling a piece of his hair in your hand and smiling at it.

"If only I could cuddle up to you and use you like a heater. Too bad your hair's just a normal temperature." Idia's heart almost exploded at the mental image that formed in his head when you said that. And it was even worse because it was coming out of his own mouth.

"T-This is not okay... You can't do this to me...!" he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You don't get it, you just dealt 99999 damage to his falling-in-love-resistance shield. Just how do you manage to do that?

"Actually, now that I can look at it up close as much as I want, your face is like, really well proportioned too. Like..." you bit your lip as a joke, wanting to look overly flirty. "That's all I'm gonna say."

Okay, now you've done it. He might just pass out, right now.

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freedomfireflies · 9 months

Text

404*

Summary: The one where you and Harry are software engineers on a project for Juno Inc.

And you can’t fucking stand each other.

Word Count: 2.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“What the hell are you still doing here?”

Your eyes never leave the computer screen as Harry’s familiarly snippy question echoes across the empty lab. “Working,” you answer simply.

He snorts as the door falls shut behind him. “It’s two in the fucking morning, I thought you left hours ago.”

“I did. And then I came back.”

You vaguely hear him walk further into the dark room, slipping around the different tables as he moseys his way closer. “Why?”

“S’this fucking sequence,” you mumble, now glaring at the different variants that litter the test. “Every time I run the simulation, the connection fails. And it shouldn’t.”

Your peripheral catches the way he uses his knuckle to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Is there a missing link?”

“There shouldn’t be. I’ve run it before, and it’s worked fine. But now it’s not. It’s like something is broken.”

“Or missing,” he argues, coming to a stop behind your chair. He studies the project from over your shoulder, and you feel your muscles recoil when you get a whiff of his cologne. “There could be something wrong with the back end.”

“Okay, well, there’s not,” you retort, shooting him a quick glare. “I already checked.”

“Well maybe you missed it. You have a tendency to misplace things.”

“I didn’t misplace it, Harold, I studied every inch of that fucking code, and there was nothing broken or missing.”

He leans back, arms crossing as he regards both you and the program. “Maybe you should check it again.”

“And maybe you should bite me,” you huff, too overworked to deal with the snarky attitude. “I really don’t have time for this today, all right? Can you just leave me to it?”

“I’d like to, but clearly you don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies calmly, and even without looking at him, you can sense his smug smile. “Every time I leave you to it, I come back to find out you’ve wrecked our project.”

Your eyes roll. “First of all, it’s not our project. It’s my project. And second…why are you even here? I thought you had shit to do tonight.”

“I did, but I’m done now.”

“Oh, so, naturally you came back just to annoy me?”

“Naturally.” He places his hand on the desk beside you and leans down, hovering near your arm as he glances over the computer. “There could be something wrong with the framework. Try the sequence again, I wanna see how it behaves.”

“No thanks.”

Harry smirks, and you realize you don’t like how close his face is. “Relax, Tinkerbell, I just wanna help.”

“And I don’t want your help,” you remind him, using your elbow to shove him to the side. “I’ve spent months with this program, it’s my baby, and I will fix it alone.”

“We’re supposed to be working together,” he argues, but it’s much too coy. “So stop being such a bitch and just run the goddamn sequence.”

You snort under your breath as you spin around in your chair to look at him. “It was that bad, huh?”

He settles back against the table behind him, hands shoving into his pockets as he stares right back. “What was bad?”

“The sex.” You jut your chin toward him. “The thing you had to do tonight. It was bad enough that you had to come back here and start swinging your dick around just to feel better.”

He smirks, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Gee, how romantic.”

He exhales an amused laugh and glances around the lab. “She was still hung up on her ex. Think it lasted all of fifteen minutes, and I’m pretty sure she faked it.”

“Well, she was having sex with you. Of course she faked it.”

His smile gets a bit bigger. “Well, I faked it, too.”

“You?” you scoff. “No way. She could have sneezed on your cock, and you still would have cum.”

His head shakes, grinning wildly. “Normally, yeah. But we both just wanted to get out of there.”

“Poor girl.”

“Yeah? What about poor me?”

“Oh, I never feel sorry for you. You always find a way to get what you want eventually.”

His head tilts, green eyes sparkling behind the tortoiseshell frames of his glasses. “Do I?”

“Clearly.” You settle back into your chair, legs crossing. “I mean, have you ever heard the word no in your life?”

“Hear it all the time with you.”

“Exactly. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I’m keeping you humble.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

That smug look of endearment returns as the lab falls silent. He watches you for quite some time, and you think that you’d pay anything to hear what he’s really thinking.

Then, he smirks. “Good,” he says, and with that, he’s pushing off the desk and striding to you.

He bridges the five-foot gap between you with ease, and you aren’t even afforded the chance to take a breath before he’s grabbing hold of your face and kissing you.

His large body bends in order to reach you in the chair, but you can feel him tugging on you. Encouraging you up and into his hold as you gasp against his mouth and allow him to help you stand.

It’s a seamless dance. Familiar. He grabs onto your hips and slams you onto the desk, knocking a few pens and some of the various equipment out of the way.

His hands are sliding up your shirt. Memorizing the expanse of your skin as his lips press into your neck. Nipping and sucking just below your ear in the way he knows you love.

Your fingers have disappeared into his curls. They’re soft and oddly comforting. Perfect to tug on as you whimper gently and arch your back. Pressing your tits against his chest as he groans.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he murmurs, now sliding his hand toward the zipper on your jeans.

You nod quickly, mewling as you practically buck into his touch.

He smiles, mouth trailing across your jaw, “I was thinking about someone else, too.”

Your lashes flutter shut.

“The whole time,” he carries on, rough fingertips dancing down the front of your underwear. “When I was with her. Couldn’t think about anybody else but you. Every time she’d whine or say my name, I thought about how you’d do it. How you’d sound, how you’d feel.”

Your nails scratch down his black t-shirt, needing more than anything to feel his skin. See it littered with your marks. Your claim.

“She could never do it right,” he tells you, and it makes your stomach wrench. “Never do it like you.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe, wiggling in an effort to help him yank your pants down. “S’that why you couldn’t get hard?”

He grins as he flicks his belt undone. “Who says I couldn’t get hard?”

With a rather determined tug, he shoves your panties to the side, large hands stroking through your folds.

“Because if I’m thinking about you,” he whispers, eyes trained on your cunt, “I’m always fucking hard.”

You whine when he thrusts inside, two fingers to start. He’s rarely gentle, but you love it. And so does he, obsessed with the image of your pussy stretching around him. Any part of him. His tongue, his hands, his cock.

He’s bigger than most, and he always makes sure to prep you before he gives you what you really want. Granted, he taunts you with the idea of ruining you and splitting your poor cunt in half each time. Driving himself to the hilt before your tight little hole is ready. He likes the idea of corrupting you for someone else.

“Relax,” he instructs, soft but firm. “S’gonna hurt a lot more if you don’t.”

You drop your head back and balance yourself on your hands, legs pushed open by his hips. “I’m trying,” you whimper, just to see his jaw clench.

“Gonna have to try harder,” he says, working his fingers into your wet cunt while his glasses slowly begin to slip down his nose. Settling at a crooked angle, and it makes you smile. “Can’t give you my cock if you don’t.”

You push your lips into a pout. “Please, Har.”

He looks up, the veins in his neck prominent as he seems to swallow another groan. “You’re so tight, Tink. Gonna wreck this pretty pussy if I don’t get you stretched.”

“Good,” you moan, thighs shaking as he brings a third finger closer. “Want you to.”

He grins. “Yeah?”

You nod fervently. “Want you to do whatever you want. I’m always good for you. Always fit you.”

“You do,” he agrees quietly, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit as he works through your arousal at a quicker pace. “Always take me so well. Even when it makes you cry.”

You whine again at the thought as he finally yanks his fingers free and moves to retrieve his cock.

You’re nearly salivating at the idea, scooting toward the edge of the table in preparation as he pulls himself out and steps up to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him. Hard and heavy in his hand, leaking the most delicious looking drops of pre-cum that you’re already thrilled he never offered this other girl.

He runs the tip through your folds a time or two, making you both squirm before he gently begins to push in.

You have to give him props for the amount of restraint he always demonstrates for you. The ability to go slow and be delicate despite the fact all he wants to do is ram himself inside you and settle into your warm cunt.

Like now. You can see the effects of such sluggish movements, the way he holds himself back until he’s sure you’ll be all right. Teeth gritting, muscles tensed, cock throbbing.

You reach out and gently slide his glasses back up, making sure they’re comfortable and that he can see all right before kissing him. “Okay…okay, go.”

He kisses you back quickly before studying you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, hooking your leg around his hip. “Need it, Har, please.”

And that’s all it takes for him to sheath himself inside your aching pussy, disappearing completely between your legs as you both moan.

The quiet lab isn’t so quiet anymore, and you throw your arms around his neck as he begins to pull out and push back in.

“There she is,” he grunts, large hand squeezing your thigh to keep you still. “Look at you, Tink, taking me so well.”

“Always,” you exhale, pressing your mouth to his cheek.

“Better than she ever was,” he continues, setting a quicker rhythm now. “So much better.”

He’s pounding you into the desk, hitting spots that make you see stars, and you clench around him until he gasps.

“Funny how well you take me…when you claim to hate me so much,” he says now, unable to resist needling you, and you whimper.

“I do,” you insist, despite the way you scratch down his back. “Fucking hate you.”

“Yeah?” His hips snap to yours. “S’that why you always beg for my cock?”

You don’t like the insinuation that you beg him for anything, especially when you know that he’s right. But you’re too far gone right now to take care, equally as depraved of pleasure as he seems to be.

The two of you don’t do this often. Maybe once or twice a month, if that. Most of the time, it’s incredibly unfriendly. A quick fuck in the supply closet or in his car in the parking lot. In between quippy remarks about how fucking unhinged the other is. How idiotic, and uncouth, and how goddamn annoying.

Because he is. So endlessly annoying and every day you have to resist the urge to slap those fucking glasses off his face.

But he knows how to fuck. That much is certain, and despite your immeasurable hatred for him, you can’t help but fall victim to his prowess.

In fact, moments like this are about the only time you don’t mind him. That you can actually stand him, and even want to submit to him.

Of course, you’re filled with regret and embarrassment the second you’re both finished, but for these few minutes…you don’t mind.

“Every fucking day,” he continues, holding onto your waist as he buries his cock deeper. “Have to watch you parade around like you’re fucking God’s gift to technology.”

You’d snort if you had enough air in your lungs to do so.

“In your fucking tight little tank tops and see through dresses,” he seethes, dragging you back to the edge of the desk to angle you the way he likes. “With your hair always up in that stupid ponytail. Just begging to be pulled. To be yanked onto your knees while you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes roll back as you keen into his body. Memories of swallowing around him flooding your mind as you shiver.

Despite his aggravating remarks, he’s always so proud of you when you take his cock down your throat. He knows it’s a lot and he knows he can’t force you to do anything your body isn’t equipped to handle.

But he’s enamored with the way you try. Pleased to see you lick him, suck him, take as much of him as you can. He might hate you, but he praises you more than anybody else ever has.

And it’s one of the main reasons you can’t quit him.

“Then maybe…you shouldn’t look,” you pant, whimpering when he thrusts particularly hard. “I don’t wear that shit for you.”

He snorts, now grabbing onto your wrist and forcing your hand against your clit. He moves your fingers for you, pressing them into the sensitive nerves until you cry out and clamp down on him again.

“No?” he taunts, cock twitching inside you as he nears his release. “Then who do you wear it for, hm? Fucking Sam?”

You make another noise as he pushes your body into more immense pleasure, touch still locked atop yours.

“No, not Sam,” he decides. “Cause Sam can’t do it the way I can. S’why you came to me, isn’t it?”

You don’t dignify this with a response. You don’t have to. He knows.

“Sam can’t make you cum, can he?” Harry continues, almost vengefully as he feels you get closer. “Never fucking could. That’s why you only cum for me.”

It’s blinding. So intense that it makes your entire body ache as you fall victim to the wave of pleasure pulling you under.

He’s right behind you, spilling into your cunt before spilling out of it. Dripping down your legs, down the table, down his thighs as you both ride each other through the bliss.

He doesn’t let you release your clit for at least a good two minutes after, ignoring your pleas for mercy as your body struggles against the sensation.

It’s overwhelming. Hot, sticky, sweaty. He pulls out to go grab a towel from the supply closet before bringing it back and helping you clean up.

He leaves a few teasing licks to your cunt in the process, and you swat your hand across his head in warning.

He smirks.

Once he’s finished, he pulls your jeans back on and up before tucking himself into his pants to do the same.

Then, after helping you hop down, he offers you a lopsided grin and pushes his glasses back up.

“Now,” he says coyly, “go be a good girl and run the fucking sequence.”

Next Part:

~ Off the Shelf* (pt. 2)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

2K notes · View notes

wolfytoothy · 2 months

Text

miles as a father

stuff I'd think earth 42 miles would react, say,do, to you being pregnant and a first time father.

when you first came to Miles saying you pregnant. It was valentines day. So while you guys were at dinner you broke the news to him.

He was excited as fuck.

He was also nervous as fuck. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Considering he was the prowler and stuff. But he made it work.

Matter fact, he was a W fiance. (Yea you guys are engaged)

He made sure you were okay, and never left you alone, he was everywhere. And when he was on a mission he made SURE to call and test you when he can.

He also when he's away, he leaves you at your agency were he KNOWS you'll be safe, considering that your besti is way to overprotective like him it makes perfect sense.

"Miles, I'm not a baby, I can take care of my self"

"Nuh uh, what happens is the enemy finds out bout you and desided to come after you, what then"

"Miles you and I both know that's a low risk"

"The chances are low, but never 0"

He goes everywhere with you, when you go shopping, run Aarons.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be on maturity leave"

"Yea?"

"They why are my eyes looking at my pregnant wife, taking calls and giving orders like she is not" he said frowning a bit.

"Miles I run I company what do you want me to do" you complained

And best believe this man monitors you when you have to be back in control for a few minutes.

"Hey, time to stop" he said snapping his fingers.

"Miles I'm handling something"

"I don't care. Let J.B. handle it, I can see you stressing, let's go"

"Miiiillles🥺"

And don't think just because your pregnant he won't be taking you out on those dates.

"princesa, luciendo hermosa como siempre" (princess, looking beautiful as always) he said taking your hand assisting you put the car.

"gracias, mi amor" (thank you my love)

And don't think just because your pregnant, you don't dress fine as fuck. YOUR EATING IT ALL UP.

And of course miles always knows what to say and do when you cry.

It was a long day, and you guys ordered take out. You were 19 weeks pregnant. You guys ordered take out. And as soon as you looked in the bag, you groaned.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Yes bro,?" You whined on the verge of tears.

"Mama what's wrong?"

"They got my order wrong" you cried bursting into tears.

"What me to go get your right order-"

"No it's fine I'll eat it"

"Mami-"

"It's fine miles I'll eat it"

and you know your boy is always purpared with those complimentsin hand and jokes that would make you feel better.

When it was the gender reveal party. He was mighty confident it was girl.

And of course mama Rio planned the baby shower AND the gender reval party.

When he found out if was a girl. That man was on a mission.

He brought new clothes, new shoes, new everything. Never in one million years would you think YOU would be the one telling him to "put it back", or "we have that at home" that was usually his line, but that while week. He was obsessed.

"Aww, ma look" he Said holding up pink little baby shoes

"Awww, that's cute, but we have that already"

"It won't hurt if she has two-"

"Put it back boy"

This man would rub your stomach, rub your back, do your hair, clean, cook, pamper you basically. And don't think you didn’t return. He he wanted to be the perfect husband then you could be the perfect wife right tf back.

But when it came to that nursery. You had a whole intire fight with him just so hevwoukd let you help out with the nursery.

"Miles please, you've been working your ass off lemme help"

"You can help by relaxing and letting me be your man"

"Don't start"

After a full 2 days of arguing. He finally caved in and agreed.

Finally the time came.

You were up stairs in the nursery, 9 months pregnant, 3 days past the due date, currently organizing clothes while Miles cleaned the kitchen. It was night, and you two were up late trying to get this damn baby out, but rested and decided to relax a bit. It wasn't till then you got up to pee.

So naturally you got up. Till you felt water trickle down your leg. Instantly.

"Uh. MILES"

"Huh!?"

"MY WATER BROKE"

Lemme tell you... that car was going 120 miles per hour. Whole assing down that high way nearly about to get pulled over.

This man waisted no time.

So now you were in the hospital room, getting contractions. But you weren't dilated enough yet, so the doctor had to make you walk around.

"Wait so your telling me these contractions are gonna get worse!?"

"Yes, ma'ma. You want the epidural when you can"

"Hell yes"

So you got the epidural and now you were just waiting.

Till the time came.

Thats when the baby girl was Born.

Maya Juanita Morales L/n

Born March 28.

When she was born. Miles cried his eyes out. Never in your life, have you seen this man cry so hard.

When he got the chance to hold her for the first time, he burst into tears again.

"She's so pretty, and tiny" he cried.

After that day, Everything changed for Miles. Not only was he the goat best friend, goat boyfriend, goat fiance, goat husband.

He IS AND SHALL BE THE GOAT FATHER, and you CAN'T tell me other wise.

You know from the start that this baby was gonna be a daddy's girl.

He always came in clutch. He was in love.

He rocked her to sleep, fed her when you weren't available, carried her everywhere, and OFCOURSE spoiled her. You can't tell me other wise.

That baby... almost came out looking exactly like miles, same eyes, ears, hair texture, lips, the only thing she inherited from you was your noise.

You carried her for 9 months, couldn’t sleep properly for 6 months, had morning sickness every morning, backed hurted, grew her in your stomach for 9 months. Just for her to pop out looking like her daddy. And worse she's a daddy girl.

Oh nahhh baby that ain't funna work twin.

And of course he had that first time dad scare.

literally him

...................

Any ways I just wanted to do this.

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #e.42 miles #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales x reader #atsv prowler #earth 42 prowler #miles morales prowler #First time father #Baby #daddy’s babygirl #sweet baby

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embrosegraves · 3 months

Text

𝕊𝕡𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕔𝕖 𝔸𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥

(request) Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Reader Kimi only allowed one person to truly know him. You.

Warnings: a bit of cussing, poorly google translated Finnish, and extremely brief research of cities in Finland. Briefly edited.

Kimi famously never allowed his emotions to be on open display for the people around him. He never let people see behind his frosty facade. He never let people get close enough for them to figure him out. He always kept everyone at a distance so there was no possible way for anyone to truly know the type of man he was. Excluding his parents, there was only one exception to all of it.

You.

Kimi never intended to bump into anyone on his break between seasons. He had chosen Pori specifically because he knew that no one he worked with knew enough about Finland to know where Pori was. None of his colleagues knew that Pori was roughly a 3 hour drive north west of his home town. With a population of 83 thousand compared to Espoo’s 310 thousand, it wasn’t an extremely well known place.

Kimi supposed he shouldn’t’ve been so surprised when he bumped into you, causing your coffee to spill everywhere. But he couldn’t help it. He never would’ve expected to literally bump into someone he worked with.

“Katsu se!” You exclaimed. Too busy trying to wipe off the spilt coffee before it could stain your coat too badly. [Watch it!]

“L/n?”

Of course you knew who it was, how could you not? It wasn’t like you spent a majority of the year around him, battling it out every weekend for top spot on the podium.

“What Räikkönen? Didn’t expect to see me over break?” You finally looked up and made eye contact with the Finn.

“Why are you in Finland?”

“Am I not allowed to go home during winter break?” This had stunned Kimi more than bumping into you.

“Home?”

Your annoyance had disappeared a while ago, the whole situation was too amusing for you to be truly annoyed. “Räikkönen, just because I race under a different flag doesn’t mean I’m not associated with another country. I was born in Pori, spent 14 years here before moving overseas.”

After that the rest was history. You ended up spending more and more of your winter break around Kimi. So much time that the Finn found himself opening up more and more around you. At first he had been the same cold, closed off Kimi that you were used to, but soon enough his metaphorical ice walls began to melt around you. He learnt that your mother had been born in Finland and had met your father while on holiday. You told him that your father had moved to Finland to be with your mother and that you always spent winter break in Pori. You travelled so much for the rest of the year you found there was no point travelling between seasons.

Throughout your time together, Kimi found himself telling you things he had only ever told his parents. He told you how he had wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. He told you that he truly did believe that Formula 1 was a hobby, that it wasn’t just something he said for the cameras. He told you that sometimes, in the privacy of his own home, he often thought about his imaginary daughters running around and filling his house with giggles and bright smiles.

Eventually, the winter break would come to an end, and you would both have to go back to the rush of racing every weekend. About a week before preseason testing, you had been hanging out with Kimi in your living room. Talking about everything you had done so far in your careers. Kimi had smiled when you started to laugh at the story he had just finished telling.

Watching you laugh at something he said had him feeling almost giddy with nerves. He had never felt this way with a woman before. Not one to let an opportunity slip by, he spoke up softly.

“Y/n?”

“Yes Kimi?” You responded, trying your best to calm down from laughing.

“Let me take you on a date.”

“Kimi- what?”

“I want to take you on a date. These last months have let me understand that everything I want in life, I want them to be with you.” He said. Taking your hand in his, he spoke with a sincerity you had never seen or heard in a man before. “Let me take you on a date and show you.”

Your free hand had covered your mouth as he spoke. A month ago, when you realised what your own feelings for him were, you had become determined to never mention them. There was no way The Iceman of all people would feel the same about you. Yet here he was. Sitting on your couch and asking you to go on a date with him.

“Yes.”

Kimi gave you a smile that had become less and less rare the more you spent time with him.

“Thank you.”

It had been three years since then. In that time you had gone on dates in every country you had travelled to. You both celebrated every win and comforted every loss. Two years into dating, Kimi had asked you to move in and marry him and during the mid-year break, surrounded by both your immediate families, you had become Y/n Räikkönen. Kimi hadn’t cared about telling the other drivers or the media, and you had agreed saying that it would be far funnier if they found out on their own. So nothing had changed in your public routines. In your head you thought the funniest part of it all would be that no one on the grid knew you had even started dating each other.

Neither of you had gone out of your way to avoid the other, in fact the other drivers often saw you both hanging around each other. Nobody had any inkling that You and Kimi were together as more than friends. Many gossip sources chalked it up to the two “outcasts” of the grid hanging out and left it at that. So it was a surprise to everyone when some fans had pointed out on social media that your signature had changed from your race number and maiden name to Räikkönen.

Jensen and Fernando, being constantly online, had dragged Sebastian to immediately start searching for the Finn. What they had found was more surprising than your change of signature. Opening the door to Kimi’s drivers room, the three of them saw you sitting on the couch with Kimi lounging on your lap, asleep. You had one hand running through his hair as he slept while the other was scrolling on your phone. Looking up as the door opened, you smiled when you saw who it was.

“Hello boys. Anything I can help you with?” You asked. Fernando was too shocked to say anything and Jensen had just started stuttering out incoherent sounds, so it was up to Sebastian.

“There are fans saying that your signature has changed.”

You huffed a gentle laugh, trying not to disturb your husband from his rest. “That’s because it has.”

“But why?” Jensen had managed to get his English under control enough to start actually speaking.

“Why’d you think it would change Jense?” You were having too much fun with this.

“But you have never shown any interest in Kimi. And Kimi doesn’t show interest in anything, so when?” It was Fernando’s turn to get over his shock. “How long have you been married? Why did we not know?”

By now Kimi was definitely awake, though he made no show of it. You could feel Kimi’s hand that was resting between you and the couch back start to gently stroke your thigh. You knew he was also amused.

“I wasn’t aware I needed to tell you who I was interested in. If I’d known I would’ve told you three years ago.”

“Three years!?” The three of them cried.

Eyes still closed, Kimi mumbled to you. “Käske heitä naimaan. Nukun.” [Tell them to fuck off. I’m sleeping.]

“Luulen, että olet levännyt tarpeeksi, rakkaani.” You replied laughing. All Kimi did was groan. [I think you’ve rested enough, my love.]

“If you wake up properly, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Opening his eyes, Kimi briefly glanced at the three flabbergasted men still in his driver's room, before looking directly at you. “Teet kovaa kauppaa, vaimo.” [You drive a hard bargain, wife.]

He sat up nonetheless and moved so you could place your legs over his lap. He looked at the others and spoke. “What else did you want to blubber about?”

Kimi was aware that he had a resting bitch face, and most times he didn’t mean to glare at people, but the three men in front of you had clearly been terrified of what Kimi might do if they stayed, so they quickly made their way out of the room.

“I told you they would find out from the fans.” You laughed. A smile broke out on Kimi’s face.

“I really thought they were smart enough to figure it out themselves.”

“Sebastian I could understand, but we’re talking about Jensen and Fernando here, my love. They were never going to figure it out on their own.”

“That’s true.” Kimi shifted you closer to him, so that you were sitting on his lap facing him. “I believe I was promised a kiss, Wife.”

“How could I ever deny you, Husband?” You whispered, leaning in close and gently placing your lips to his. His hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. Both of you aware of the three drivers that had yet to move from the other side of Kimi’s door.

It wasn’t your fault if they saw something they shouldn’t’ve.

Okay, time got away from me for a bit but here it is!

I hope you all enjoyed!

Likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen fluff #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen imagine #kimi raikkonen fic #kr7 #kimi raikkonen

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celestial-robots · 10 months

Text

Explaining Eclipse (A Theory/Headcanon)

Spoilers for the Ruin DLC below!

Okay so I've been thinking so much about Eclipse and what they mean. You know, as you do XD. Just a lot of wondering what they mean for the ~lore~ and how they fit in with the rest of the Sun and Moon stuff. And after a lot of thinking, I may have figured stuff out.

I've seen a couple posts wondering if Eclipse is the way the Daycare Attendant is "supposed to be" and if Sun and Moon are the result of the DCA breaking down or something. But personally I just can't see that. Not only do we hear Sun go "thank you" after the Eclipse encounter, implying he's still around and hasn't permanently "fused" into Eclipse, but it also wouldn't make sense with stuff in Security Breach. In-game Fazbear merchandise and advertising have a lot of focus on Sun and Moon as two separate individuals, not the DCA as a single unit. For example, see the giant golden statues outside of Daycare. Two different forms of the Daycare Attendant. Collectibles are also identified as "Sun" and "Moon." It's not like they're labeled "Eclipse Doll (Sun form)" or "Moon Eclipse Doll." No, it's just "Sun Doll" and "Moon Doll."

So here's how I think it works. Sun and Moon are two separate AIs within the DCA body. They can function on their own, independent of the other, in the way we've been thinking this whole time. BUT they're also designed to join together, like interlocking puzzle blocks. Two separate forms that come together to make a "whole" that's greater than the sum of the parts.

This makes sense from a programming perspective. Sun is designed to play with kids and entertain them, Moon is designed to watch over kids while they sleep. They're both made for specific scenarios, but taking care of kids is a lot more complicated than just "play time" and "nap time." So whenever one of them encounters something they can't deal with by themselves, they call for help from the other, who activates as well, combining their features and protocols. I'm willing to bed this also activates several specific "Eclipse" features that can only be accessed when both AIs are active, which would explain why Eclipse has such a different personality.

But if this is the case, then why haven't we seen Eclipse before? Why did they only come out when Cassie rebooted the DCA?

Well that's where this theory by @dana-chan-the-control-brain and @twinanimatronics comes in. The two of them theorized that the Balloon World arcade cabinet in the DCA's room was some sort of signal broadcaster that kept their AIs divided. I think that Ruin confirms this—or at least provides a lot of solid evidence.

In the main game, Balloon World is in the DCA room, up and active and with a form of Eclipse inside. In Ruin, the Balloon World cabinet is broken. And you can see weird purple glitches coming from it while in AR vision. It's only in Ruin, after the cabinet has been damaged, that we finally meet Eclipse.

This is venturing a bit into headcanon territory, but let's have some fun with this. I believe that the Balloon World cabinet was put in the DCA's room to infect them with the virus. Probably a long time before the events of the actual game, since the worn-down state of the room shows it's been a while since any human or robot cleaners were in there. This might have been some sort of test run to see if the virus could affect the animatronics.

However, the virus couldn't affect the DCA while Eclipse was there, acting as a sort of stabilizing failsafe for Sun and Moon. So the virus then cut off the "fuse" function from Sun and Moon, locking Eclipse away and preventing them from stepping in when Sun or Moon encounter something strange—strange like a virus. Sun probably couldn't be affected by the virus because the virus attacks nighttime and/or security protocols, and he no longer had access to those once Eclipse was gone. Moon, however, did. And that's why he's hostile.

But then, if the Balloon World cabinet was keeping Eclipse contained, why were Sun and Moon still freaking out in Ruin even after the cabinet was destroyed? Why did they need Cassie to reboot them?

Well, I think that forming Eclipse requires both Sun and Moon to want to fuse together. And Moon clearly doesn't want to do that in Ruin. Why? Probably because he's mad at Sun. You can hear how angry he is in voice lines where he says stuff like "No more Sun!" and "No more light!" (Seriously, props to Kellen Goff, holy shit.) Moon was only able to be "awake" for short periods of time in the main game, partially because Sun was encouraging everyone to "Keep the lights on." Of course Moon would be pissed and want to be in control now that the lights are broken. He wasn't about to risk losing that .

But not having Eclipse around was ultimately damaging Sun and Moon. They were meant to stabilize the system when the two individuals couldn't do that alone. Not to mention their systems were already damaged, judging by Moon's increased light sensitivity in Ruin. They needed Eclipse so they could be stable again.

Cassie rebooting the DCA's systems was a lot like restarting your computer. Everything shuts down and then all the systems start running again at once—including, in this case, both Sun and Moon's AIs and whatever Eclipse functions were now restored. That's why Eclipse was in control after the reboot. Presumably, the rest of the software damage was also fixed, which probably helped calm Moon down. So, overall, a happy ending.

Relatively, I mean. The DCA is still stuck in an abandoned Pizzaplex, but at least Eclipse is back and Sun and Moon aren't fighting anymore :)

#fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #fnaf ruin spoilers #ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf eclipse #sundrop #moondrop

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exhaslo · 6 months

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What about Miguel with Fem!Reader who is Spider-Man's biggest cheerleader? It can be where she was a civilian that he saved once who became like his biggest fan. She has all the merch and stuff of him. Of course she dosn't know his identity but she dosn't care. He dose no wrong in her eyes, also cheering for him and squealing and fangirling when she sees him.

I imagine that if they ever have sex together she's just talking and disbelief and how she can't believe that this is happening to her and how shes dreamed of this. Miguel ends up having to cover her mouth to get her to be quite, but he secretly really likes his little fangirl gushing all over him in more was than one.

Ohhhh, you know what would be even spicer??? If Miguel was secretly a Yandere! Hope you'll like the little addition to your request~

Warning: Smut, MINORS DNI, rough sex, bondage, possessive, masturbation

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

This obsession started a few months ago. You were on your way to work when the futurist version of the HobGoblin started to attack the city. You were running down the street, trying to find shelter when a building was destroyed above you. Just when you thought your life was over, Spiderman came and saved you.

Since then, you would fight when it came to anything involving Spiderman. He was your savior, your hero, your everything. You fell head over heels for the masked man, wanting to make sure people understood that he was a hero.

You couldn't get enough of him. Soon, you started to collect anything on Spiderman. You wanted to worship him. You grabbed anything you saw. Shirts, plushes, toys, hell, you even started to buy artwork and pins from people. You just wanted to be close to him. By any means necessary.

Getting yourself ready, you had decided to join a small parade in the lower half of Nueva York. It wasn't as safe or clean as the above half, but hell, they were throwing a hell of a party. The people in the lower half were obsessed with super heros.

Once you got there, you were in love. The amount of the Spiderman merch had you in heaven. You bought everything and went into the crowd, looking around for your hero.

"Kya!!! Spiderman! I love you!" You cheered as you saw the masked man, swing around.

---------

Miguel thought it would be funny to just stop by and see the parade. He was uncomfortable with everyone in the lower half worshiping him as a God or a messenger of Thor. It was all a mess. As he swung around, Miguel stopped as he heard you.

He landed against a building, watching you cheer and wave towards him. His eyes widen as he waved back, causing you to jump and squeal in response. You were fangirling over him. Just like that, Miguel ate his words. This was something he could get used too.

More like, he could get used to you.

Claiming that you love someone is a big deal. Miguel wanted to test you. He left soon after, already thinking of your dedication. Miguel had been looking for someone. Perhaps he had been waiting just for you. For you to be his good girl and listened to every word he said.

Someone just for him.

---------

You were humming happily to yourself as you walked down the streets of Nueva York. It was your day off and you were hoping to catch a glimpse of Spiderman swinging around. It was a fun pass time for you.

"The Public Eye will catch him one of these days! That menace, Spiderman, can't keep breaking the law forever!" A stranger barked. You gripped your coffee,

"He's not a menace! He's a hero! You're just jealous that you can't do anything that he could!" You barked.

"You're just another fangirl!"

"You'll change your mind when you're in trouble!" You huffed.

Storming away, you threw away your coffee in anger. Some people just had no idea of how Spiderman really was. He was a hero! There was nothing he did that was wrong!

"I suppose I should be thanking my fans," Spiderman said. You squeaked, looking up into the alleyway,

"S-Spi-Spiderman! Ohmygoshohmygosh! It's you!!" You squealed happily.

Miguel smiled at your excitement. He webbed your lips and motioned you to follow him into the dark alley. You happily followed. Miguel inhaled deeply, enjoying your behavior. He could see the sparkles in your eyes as you happily jumped in place.

"When I take the webbing off your mouth, I want you to tell me your name and where you work, okay?"

You nodded. Miguel smiled as he casually stroked your cheek, slowly taking the webbing off. He could see the love in your eyes. You truly were head over heels for him. How delicious.

"(Y/N), I work at a corporate office for retail clothes."

"Interesting." Miguel observed you, "You know, I take things quite seriously, (Y/N). So, when I hear the words, 'I love you', come out of your mouth, it drives me to want to test that."

"I do! I do love you! I'll do anything to prove it!"

"Then have sex with me-"

"Yes."

Miguel held back a laugh by how quick you agreed. He wrapped his arm around your waist and asked for your address. He wasn't going to take you to his place, yet. He wanted to see what made you tick. He wanted to make sure that you were dedicated to him.

You on the other hand, were squealing mentally and physically. You were in Spiderman's arms, swinging to your place. The thought of fucking him had not even crossed your mind yet. You were living in the moment and right now, you were in HIS ARMS.

Once you arrived at your place, you begged Spiderman to wait before entering. You had to clean up your mess of clothes on the floor. You whined, throwing them all in a basket and double checking your room to make sure that it was safe.

"You really are a fan," Miguel whispered, looking around at your collection of him. He paused, seeing a body pillow of him, "How-"

"I paid someone." Was all you said and moved it aside. Miguel turned to you, smiling under his mask,

"So, I assume you fuck yourself to it, huh?"

You tensed, facing Spiderman and slowly nodded. Okay, now you were recalling that you agreed to have sex with him. Your cheeks started to burn as you glanced at his muscular body. The body of a god, basically.

"Get on the bed and show me what you do to yourself," Miguel whispered in your ear.

You complied. Crawling on your bed, you stripped yourself of your clothes and spread your legs. Spiderman was about to watch you masturbate. This was making you wet. A shudder escaped your lips as you rubbed your clit, imaging what Spiderman was going to do to you.

Miguel on the other hand was watching with amusement. You listened to every command he's given. You were being such a good girl for him. Touching yourself so naughty with him watching. You were just so desperate for him.

"Would you let me do anything to you?" He asked, slowing crawling on the bed as you started to moan and squirm.

"Y-Yes!"

"Even fuck you into being mine?"

"Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried out, reaching your orgasm.

Miguel resisted a groan as he raised his mask slightly, licking your fingers in the process. You were doing such a good job tempting him. He was going to enjoy having you to call his.

"Don't tell me you're tired after just that?" Miguel webbed your hands to your bed post, "I'm going to make sure you don't think of anything else but me."

"Of course!"

Miguel just chuckled in response as he showed you his erection. Your eyes widen as you started to freak out. This was actually happening! You were actually about to have sex with Spiderman.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, this is happening!" You squealed.

Miguel glanced at you as he slowly inserted his dick inside your folds. You were totally fangirling and geeking out. He smirked as he webbed your mouth, listening to your muffled moans. Miguel lowered his mask, wanting to hide his smile.

He watched your eyes roll back, moaning as he shoved his dick fully inside you. Your body arching in pleasure as he started to ravish you. Such a delicious face you were making. You were giving your whole body to him.

"You're sucking me in so much, you truly must love me." Miguel smirked.

Miguel held your hips tightly, listening to your muffled voice. He could get used to this. Your muffle cries and moans as he destroyed your pussy. You said you loved him. There was no taking that back now.

"If you truly love me, you'd let me have my way with you, right?"

You nodded, moaning into his webs as you felt yourself about to burst in pleasure again. Spiderman was being so rough with you. It was like you were his fuck doll, and you were loving every minute of it. His dick was so big and filling. You were going to lose count with how many times you cam.

Gasping, you felt like you saw stars as he pressed you into mating position. His hips slamming into yours as you felt him cum inside you. The stamina this man had for fucking you while cumming. You flung your head back, still in disbelief.

What if you got pregnant with Spiderman's babies? Nearly squealing at the thought, you spread your legs out more, moving your hips to his. This had to be a dream. Being fucked so good by Spiderman. Oh, you were dreaming well!

"Good girl, you love my dick, don't you? You want me to keep cumming inside your tight little pussy, right?" Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting rougher.

"Mhpm~" You nodded violently, feeling the urge to cum again.

Miguel hummed as he rubbed your clit, watching a white ring form at the base of his dick. Your pussy was still so tight and wet, just for him. You were going to a great stress reliever. Miguel was going to keep you for himself.

The best part? There wasn't much he had to do to convince you otherwise. You were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. Groaning lowly as he gave you another load of him, Miguel decided to remove the webbing from your mouth.

"You'll do whatever I say, right?" He asked lowly.

"Mhm~" You nodded, trembling slightly. Miguel stroked your cheek, smirking at your fucked out expression,

"Good. Quit your job. I'll be taking care of you from now on."

"Y-Yes," You gasped as he started to thrust into you again, "I-I'll quit! I'll quit for you!" You moaned.

"And block everyone on your phone. You're only going to need me from now on."

"Y-Yes!"

Oh this was too easy. Miguel was enjoying this far too much. You were the only one who was listening to every command he made. How delicious. Pressing himself against you more, Miguel paid close attention to your blissed out expression.

"Who do you belong to now?"

"Y-You! Spiderman!" You cried out, reaching another mind blowing orgasm.

"Mine."

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

Hope you enjoyed~

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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islandofsages · 4 months

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Hi, can I ask the dorm leaders with a student (male) who is extremely good in all academic subjects, ranking among the top 5 in the test rankings, but is extremely stupid in all other factors, for example if someone tries to bully with him, he had politely asked the person to apologize.

characters: the housewardens x male reader

tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines format; azul mention in riddle's, riddle mention in azul's, jamil mention in kalim's, vargas mention in vil's, ortho mention in idia's

warnings: alarming stupidity nothing

author's notes: this is such a fun prompt omg i love dumbasses

Riddle Rosehearts

He finds your grades quite impressive - though you can’t cut through his and Azul’s rankings, you manage to land the third place at least

He admires and respects your diligence in studying; if you’re a Heartslabyul student, he’ll consider you a great candidate for the seat of housewarden (or at least vice position)

But then he stumbles upon you one day doing… something? What are you doing?

You’re… crouching in front of a bug. Okay well, maybe you’re studying it

Upon closer inspection though, it looks like you’re… crying? Are you mourning??

The bug’s not even dead. It’s just lying down. You’re seriously mourning a bug that’s actually alive.

He doesn’t want to think it nor does he actually believe you’re like this. But he feels you’re being really stupid at the moment

Then he thinks that again. When you’re doing another stupid thing. Yet you continue to dominate the class rankings

He’s confused. Really confused.

He stops doubting the duality of man because of you.

Leona Kingscholar

He thinks you’re not half-bad for a herbivore (or well, if you’re a beastman, good for you too)

If you’re a member of Savanaclaw, he’s grateful to have one more guy who can contribute to the decreasing of the dropout rates

That is, until he sees you being cornered by what seems to be a group of bullies

He sighs tiredly at the thought of having to break up a fight again and walks over to you guys, fully expecting you to be in some kind of trouble

But… you’re scolding the bullies instead? And they actually seem apologetic

Did you really ask a group of bullies to apologize for trying to bully you?

He’s unsure if you’re the oblivious one here or the bullies; you’re supposed to feel victimized. Or maybe the bullies are so bad at bullying they don’t affect you in the least??

He doesn’t know what to make of this. But he supposes as long as you don’t make any trouble for him, he doesn’t give a damn

Then he sees more bullies try to get you to give up your wallet to them

Okay, maybe he’ll give at least two damns.

Azul Ashengrotto

A worthy contender to his and Riddle’s rankings? People like you don’t just come by every day

Definitely considers you a valuable asset of some sort… or at least a valuable friend!

So of course, he’d like to interview you on how you got to this level, definitely no other ulterior motives at all

You two sit down in the Mostro Lounge one day, everything is pleasant and comfortable, and you’re just chilling. He starts with a simple question: how do you study to get such good grades?

You ruminate the question for a minute, thinking hard, when you eventually come to the conclusion

“I mean. I just study like the normal person does. Five minutes before the exam itself, I’ll run through whatever notes I have.”

…What?

He’s not sure if you’re actually really stupid to study five minutes before an exam or really smart that you can ace exams with just five minute study sessions

He continues to interview you and he discovers more about how much of a dumbass you actually are but he endures it just for the sake of knowing your actual secrets

You better watch your back.

Kalim Al-Asim

He looks up to you so much, he practically begs you to tutor him so he doesn’t bother Jamil as much

So you do, just for the hell of it and maybe because of the money too

And it works! He’d come running to you, excitedly showing you his grades from the last exam and you’re genuinely proud of his improvement

He likes running up to you either way - and one day when he does, he runs into you… reading a book upside down?

“Oh, hey Kalim. You know, I found this book one day and I thought I’d give it a read but I can’t understand a single thing…”

He wants to say something. Specifically about you reading said book the wrong way (literally)

…But what if you’re right? Maybe it is meant to be read upside down and you’re just not understanding it because it’s in some ancient language?

You two go to Jamil for once since he seems to be as proficient, if not more, in ancient magic than the both of you

You were excited at the idea that there’s still new stuff out there you have yet to discover

Needless to say though, your excitement dies the moment Jamil finishes listening to your explanation and you two become the victim of his two-hour lecture.

Vil Schoenheit

You’ve gained his respect. A rare honor from the Fairest Queen himself, you think

He would consider you an equal… if it weren’t for the fact of, well, you’re pretty oblivious in literally everything else

He’ll never forget the day where your natural stupidity outshone your class ranking… because it involved Vil himself

You were in a joint PE class together (or if you’re classmates then just a regular class) and it gave both of you the opportunity to talk to each other a bit

It’s a nice little conversation until you say-

“Also… what’s Vargas’ last name anyway?”

Vil blinked once. Then twice. What did you just ask him?

Vargas. Is the last name. His full name is Ashton Vargas. It’s pretty common knowledge considering how much the guy himself says it. He relays that information to you

You let out a dragged out “Oh” and nodded understandingly. Oh, you were being genuine.

Now he doesn’t want to assume from just one interaction but every other interaction with you just proves his point - and the thing is he actually finds it kind of amusing.

Idia Shroud

Wow, someone who’s almost as prodigious as he is, how impressive (he’s being half-sarcastic, half-genuine here)

It is somewhat difficult to find some intelligent life in NRC sometimes. But then you end up being one of them anyway (yet also not really?)

Like you’re always in the top 5 when it comes to exams but then he sees you doing stuff like what you did yesterday…

He was outside for once, taking a walk since Ortho insisted, and he bumps into you on the main street

He didn’t think twice about what you were doing; you were merely staring up at the King of Beast’s statue, finger under your chin, eyes squinted. It’s obvious you were deep in thought

Until he walked by you, hearing you talk to yourself

“...What kind of animal is he anyway? A cat? A tiger?? A panther???”

??? Is it not obvious???

He debated on actually telling you what kind of animal the King of Beasts was but… somehow it’s funnier to leave you in the dark like that

He’ll never get over how you keep calling the King of Beasts a panther, mainly because it riles the Savanaclaw students up.

Malleus Draconia

You’re a curious little thing to him - he wonders how you’ve come to know so many things

Or at least, seem so… you may ace your exams but he comes to notice that it’s not consistent across all boards

He just got back from touring Ramshackle’s exterior for the umpteenth time when he sees you chilling in the Diasomnia lounge

You are talking to another student, which is normal and all, but your response makes him do a double take

“I just think they shouldn’t put mushrooms in mushroom soup! And not make it taste like mushrooms! It just has to look and feel like thick soup!”

But… those are what make mushroom soup… mushroom soup.

He doesn’t even feel that strongly towards mushroom soup! Why is he trying to defend mushroom soup??

It’s not outright stupid but… it certainly is a bold take that could be a pipeline to be dumb

Malleus tries not to judge; you have your qualities and flaws that make you special

But when you bring your complaint to the cafeteria staff, that’s where he draws the line and stops you for the sake of everyone’s sanity.

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2kmps · 6 months

Text

FAULTY TEST

android x reader one-shot | 2.5k | MDNI!!

story summary;; a newfound responsibility of yours has been to record the behaviors and responses of an exclusive, advanced android marketed for the wealthy and elite. he is beautiful and meticulously fulfills your every need. however, when you start to notice odd changes in his usual pattern one morning, you begin to wonder if he's defected.

story warnings;; ducon, implied insemination, coercion, brief sexual content, somewhat obsessive behaviors, overall criticism of society as a whole, prose + heavy descriptions, incomplete ideas but for the sake of this one-shot it is cohesive, ending left vague and open to interpretation, android critiques mc's health, roughly proofread, mdni!!

please interact & reblog if you enjoy!!

He had a face that was structured to be unimaginably beautiful. A sort of face that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Tester?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Tester? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained, he was supposed to memorize it but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio said in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple, white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long, dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked that they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health, because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffer with similar afflictions: Lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this is to say is my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on 5th and Lowe, where you'll consume around one-hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit,” you had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on a gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure.

Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically, yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim, if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation, and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest deviation from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height near you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps not on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the Company—in Researcher Kim, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing seeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong, such was a natural behavior predating all written record; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs before long, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, midst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moving lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” He said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-lain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to go left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. Eucalyptus will be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movements within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a slither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder if caught.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

a/n: so, this is going to become a longer oneshot in the future. it'll be diabolical and dark and awful, but also a needed tale given today's climate on sex and such. there's a lot more I want to explore with my ideas and elio, but yeah.

I'm gonna put up a poll soon to decide on a definitive appearance for elio since I just threw in some random characteristics for this.

if you liked this, please reblog it and interact!! I'd love to hear your thoughts more than anything 😭😭

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