#considering i do not listen to music when asleep. hm
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0,001% just sedate me honestly
#spotify wrapped#this is mostly unsurprising although i did not expect mailand to pull through like this#214k is less than last year :( still top 0.10% worldwide tho which.....#considering i do not listen to music when asleep. hm#amyway!! wrapped season!! yay!!!!!#mona rambles#*mine
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Transcript Episode 82: Frogs, pears, and more staples from linguistics example sentences
This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm episode ‘Frogs, pears, and more staples from linguistics example sentences’. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the episode show notes page.
[Music]
Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.
Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today, we’re getting enthusiastic about when linguists keep using the same example texts over and over again. But first, have you ever wished that Lingthusiasm could be a little, um, less enthusiastic?
Gretchen: Most of the time, no, but we’ve heard some complaints. Actually, we heard one person once said to us that they tried to listen to Lingthusiasm to fall asleep, and they couldn’t do it because we were too high energy and enthusiastic. Many years later, we have now taken on board this comment and also, just for fun, we have made a [ASMR voice] slowed down, soothing [regular voice] version of Lingthusiasm where we read a bunch of linguistic sample sentences, some of which we mention in this episode, [ASMR voice] in much longer and more relaxed form.
Lauren: [ASMR voice] Get many soothing sentences of linguistics nonsense read to you.
Gretchen: [ASMR voice] By joining us on Patreon at patreon.com/lingthusiasm. [Regular voice] Plus, of course, get access to a bunch of other bonus episodes at the usual speed and volume also on Patreon and help us keep the show running.
Lauren: If you’re interested in why we chose the sentences that we read in the bonus, we’ll be talking about that this episode, so keep listening.
[Music]
Gretchen: Lauren, can I tell you a story?
Lauren: Yes, please.
Gretchen: This story is about the north wind and the sun.
Lauren: Hm.
Gretchen: “The North Wind and the Sun were disputing which was the stronger when a traveller came along wrapped in a warm cloak. They agreed that the one who first succeeded in making the traveller take his cloak off should be considered stronger than the other. Then the North Wind blew as hard as he could, but the more he blew, the more closely did the traveller fold his cloak around him. At last, the North Wind gave up the attempt. Then the Sun shone out warmly, and immediately the traveller took off his cloak. And so, the North Wind was obliged to confess that the Sun was the stronger of the two. The end.”
Lauren: A classic Aesop’s Fable. In fact, literally one of Aesop’s Fables there. But I know it specifically as the example text that people record to illustrate the sounds in a given language.
Gretchen: Yeah. I think I actually had an illustrated children’s picture book of this when I was a child.
Lauren: Because of your interest in phonetics across the world’s languages?
Gretchen: Yes, that is definitely why my parents bought me this as a five-year-old. No, I think they just liked the moral, “You can do more with persuasion than you can with force,” which was the last sentence in the illustrated Aesop’s Fable version that I had as a child. But imagine my surprise when, many years later in linguistic school, I encountered this story as a classic example text.
Lauren: This text gets translated into many different languages, and it’s read as the example passage of what it sounds like to tell a story in a language as part of a series called “Illustrations of the International Phonetic Alphabet.”
Gretchen: The Journal of the International Phonetic Association – this is the one, I think, where all of the articles used to actually be written in phonetic transcription rather than in standard orthography, which is fantastic.
Lauren: Now they’ve moved to standard orthography, but what is also fantastic is all these articles that illustrate the way that different languages sound. You can download and listen to the recordings that are made as part of those journal articles, including recordings of a narrative passage, which is usually “The North Wind and the Sun.”
Gretchen: I guess it’s a relatively classic passage. It does involve personifying the elements, but many cultures do allow you to personify the elements. I think some other passages that sometimes get used as comparative linguistic passages are particular stories from the Bible because the Bible has been translated in a bunch of languages. But this is not great because people often use a stylised, formal style of language for Biblical texts that really doesn’t reflect how people talk in everyday life. Much as Aesop’s Fables are a bit culturally specific, the Bible is also very culturally specific.
Lauren: I do also appreciate when they were recording examples of New Zealand English, they did translate it to “The Southerly Wind and the Sun” to make it more geographically appropriate.
Gretchen: Oh, excellent. Yes. They do change out the words sometimes whether you have “the Sun shone” or “the Sun shined,” sort of depends on variation. Sometimes, they have this exact text being read aloud, and sometimes they let people retell it in their own words. Of course, if you’re translating it into lots of different languages, you can localise that translation however you want.
Lauren: You told me a story. I think it’s only fair that I tell you a story.
Gretchen: Oh, yes, please.
Lauren: Are you ready?
Gretchen: Yes.
Lauren: Okay. “Please call Stella. Ask her to bring these things with her from the stone: six spoons of fresh snow peas, five thick slabs of blue cheese, and maybe a snack for her brother Bob. We also need a small plastic snake and a big toy frog for the kids. She can scoop these things into three red bags, and we will go meet her Wednesday at the train station.”
Gretchen: This is a bit of a different style of story to me than the Aesop’s Fable style. “Small plastic snake” – I don’t think this one was found in Ancient Greece.
Lauren: And perhaps less of a direct moral to this one.
Gretchen: It also is a little bit directive, like, “Oh, it’s my job to call Stella. All right.” This story comes from the speech accent archive, which is a website that has many hundreds, probably a thousand – I wasn’t able to get a precise count of speech samples – of people speaking English who have both a variety of accents of English and also who’s first language is something else, and a variety of non-native accents in English, all reading this same English paragraph, so that if you want to know what Ugandan English sounds like, you can listen to some audio clips of some people from Uganda reading this passage, and you can be like, “All right, here’s what it sounds like.”
Lauren: Everyone’s reading the same thing. We have a nice clear benchmark. It has lots of different sounds, lots of S-y sounds I noticed as I was trying to read this out to you.
Gretchen: It’s got “slabs” and “snake” and “snack” and “store” and “spoons,” so a lot of these S-plus-consonant-clusters and several – “these things into three” – /ð/ /θ/ /θ/. You get a bunch of different sounds and sound sequences. The note on the speech accent archive website says, “This paragraph contains practically all the sounds of English,” which I think is because, depending on your variety of English, exactly which sounds are in it and not can vary, but they’ve made an effort to get at least most of them.
Lauren: The fact that they’ve made this effort to get all the sounds means that perhaps the meaning of the story becomes less important I think it’s fair to say.
Gretchen: It’s a little silly.
Lauren: It gets a little bit silly trying to make something that sounds sufficiently coherent, but you’re really focused on the individual sounds.
Gretchen: “Six spoons of fresh snow peas” – I dunno that I really measure snow peas in spoons, but people can read somewhat nonsensical text, and that’s also okay. This is very English-centric. There’s not an effort to translate this story into other languages because it’s focused around trying to get a specific range of sounds in English.
Lauren: I just know this as “The Stella Passage.”
Gretchen: I would call this one “Please Call Stella.” I think that’s just what I would refer to it as. There’s also some passages – so there’s a longer passage that’s about rainbows, known as “The Rainbow Passage.”
Lauren: “The Rainbow Passage.”
Gretchen: Which I will not read in full because it’s a whole page, but it begins, “When the sunlight strikes raindrops in the air, they act as a prism and form a rainbow. The rainbow is a division of white light into many beautiful colours.”
Lauren: Aww.
Gretchen: Yeah, it’s kinda sweet. “The Rainbow Passage” and another passage called “The Grandfather Passage” are familiar to me from linguistics and came up recently because a friend mentioned that they’re used in people who are doing gender voice training. If you’re trans, you want your voice to be perceived as a different gender, something that some people do is adjust the way they produce certain vowels and consonants so that they sound more characteristic of a particular gender. People often practice on particular reading passages, which are part of speech training. You can record yourself and keep an idea of what your progress is over time. This “Rainbow Passage” and “The Grandfather Passage,” which is another one that’s about your grandfather – this very old school guy who wears a frock coat.
Lauren: He’s eccentric but sound of mind if I recall.
Gretchen: Yes. I think this is a very old school grandfather. I don’t think anyone’s current grandfather wears a frock coat these days unless they’re a historical reenactor or something. But these are some passages that sometimes get used in speech training. There’s a really interesting interview on the Gender Reveal podcast with Renée Yoxon who does trans voice coaching if anyone wants to know more about how that goes.
Lauren: It’s really fascinating the lives that these example texts live as they continue on in the world. Another set of example sentences are the Harvard Sentences, which are around 700+ sentences that are used mostly used in training speech-text synthesis programmes or testing telecommunications systems.
Gretchen: The Harvard Sentences, there’s 720 of them – about 10-word sentences – so there’s tons of them. They’re also designed for their phonetic value. They’re designed to contain English sounds in a range of different contexts. For example, in English, we say the /k/ sound in “keen” slightly differently from how we say the /k/ sound in “cool” or in “stick.” You need to have words that contain it at the beginning of the word, at the end of the word, before several different vowels, so that when you’re trying to put it into words, it sounds a little bit less robotic.
Lauren: This is why they also get their other name, which is the “Harvard Balanced Sentences,” because they have a balance of the most commonly occurring English speech sounds in a balanced range of contexts.
Gretchen: Right. We thought maybe this would make them a little bit extra soothing. Also, there’s 700 of these, so we can’t read them all to you in this episode because that would get a little bit boring and tedious, and you might go to sleep.
Lauren: In fact, that is a perfect application for recording all 720 of them as a soothing ASMR experience.
Gretchen: Wait, can we call this “Lingthusiasmr”?
Lauren: I think we can.
Gretchen: “ASMR,” if you haven’t encountered it, is the “autonomous sensory meridian response,” which is the relaxed chills feeling that people feel down their spine when you listen to certain kinds of slow and relaxing sounds. I’m not entirely sure that our episode will induce ASMR. We’ll have to test that empirically. But I do think it sounds very soothing and will probably help you sleep. Please let us know if it works if you think this is fun.
Lauren: I have to say, from the experience of recording them, they are such boring nonsense that they become kind of surreal.
Gretchen: I really felt like I was zoning out as I was reading them. We read them 10 at a time and took turns, and by the end of the 10 list, I would be sort of like, “Oh, I’m very slow. My heartrate has gone down. I’m relaxed.” I think it’s important to recognise that when people are reading example sentences, that is work, and it takes concentrate to try to read exactly the words on the page in a consistent tone of voice and not stumble over words. We definitely had to re-record some bits and edit them back together to make them sound smooth.
Lauren: Having recorded other people for phonetics experiments, this just once again reminded me of how much respect I have for people and their patience and their willingness to participate in recording sentences like this for analysis.
Gretchen: Thank you to our patrons for letting us do not only the podcast in general but also occasionally fun, weird experiments like this. Let us know if it actually helps you sleep or if this is fun or we should never do it again. All of these are options. Did you notice anything else about the content of the sentences as you were reading all 700, Lauren?
Lauren: I did. We – I have to say – did skip a few sentences because they did not produce the chill, relaxed vibes we were going for, especially the ones about forest fires and cutting off people’s heads.
Gretchen: Yeah, some of the sentences were a bit violent. We thought, you know, if you’re trying to fall asleep, and then you hear “The prince ordered the person’s head to be cut off,” you’re like, “I don’t know if I wanna hear that.” Even though it’s a fairytale setting, it’s still not very cheerful. We didn’t record all 720. We thought we would sacrifice balanced, scientific accuracy for being-able-to-fall-asleep-itude. I noticed that sentences that we kept, which was most of them, had this agricultural vibe.
Lauren: Which is pretty funny given that these are from the 1950s and ’60s.
Gretchen: They’re from the ’60s. They had cars in the 1960s, and yet, there’s one car in all of these sentences, and there’s a lot of horses.
Lauren: There are a lot of horses, indeed.
Gretchen: And wagons and carts. There’s one bus and one train and one car, and there’s all these horses and wagons. It’s just sort of pastoral.
Lauren: I also appreciate the person who wrote them who put all of the examples with “fudge” in there, but that might be just because I was hungry while we were recording.
Gretchen: Delicious. We did consider briefly trying to come up with replacement sentences that would still be phonetically balanced, but it’s a lot of work to come up with sentences that contain certain sounds in particular combinations and also make enough sense that you can read them even if some of them are a little bit silly.
Lauren: In fact, a lot of phonetic elicitation is done by just getting people to say a particular single word, maybe inside a sentence, so that you get it in a more natural environment rather than just listing individual words where you get this [list intonation voice] LIST intoNATION as people READ through the LIST.
Gretchen: If you want people to say, for example, a bunch of colours, you shouldn’t just have them say, “Red, orange, yellow, green.” You could instead do, “I saw the red thing,” “I saw the blue thing,” “I saw the green thing.” And then you can cut out the “red” and “blue” and “green” from the middle of “I saw the whatever thing,” so that it’s in the middle like that. Is that right?
Lauren: Yeah. Sometimes, in phonetics we’re so interested in just the sounds themselves. We don’t even care if the words make sense let alone the sentences. People will come up with nonsense words that they can record to get particular sounds.
Gretchen: I have a fun story about that from when I was an undergrad where we had to come up with a bunch of nonsense words for stimuli, only one of the words that we came up with – I forget what it was. I think all of our words were like consonant-vowel-consonant, so it was something that was like a slang swear word or a word related to some sort of risqué topic, and the prof was like, “Oh, we can use this word, right?” And all the students sort of look at each other and start giggling. We’re like, “Who’s gonna tell him?”
Lauren: Okay, excellent public service announcement. If you are creating nonsense words for a phonetic study, maybe run them by a couple of your students first just to check.
Gretchen: Run them by somebody who has a bit of a dirty mind. Look them up on Urban Dictionary. Ask a few people if you’re not working on a language where you have something like Urban Dictionary just to make sure that they’re not actually a word that’s gonna have your participants giggling.
Lauren: So far, we’ve been discussing sentences and texts for studying the sounds of language, but there’re also some commonly reoccurring texts that people use when they’re looking at sentences or even larger units of language to study.
Gretchen: One of the these is what I know as “The Frog Story,” which is a wordless picture book that has a little boy and a frog in a jar, and the frog escapes, and the boy and the dog have to go after the frog, and then they find the frog on a log. It’s very charming, and there’s no words there, so people just have to look through it once, and then you go through it again and retell that story based on the pictures.
Lauren: I have a copy of this book, and there are five or six in the series. They’re super charming. But every time I pull it off my shelf, I get mildly surprised that it’s not called “Frog Story,” it’s called, “Frog, Where Are You?”
Gretchen: Oh, I always forget this because in linguistics people just call it “The Frog Story.”
Lauren: It’s by Mercer Mayer from 1969.
Gretchen: You can tell when you’re in someone’s talk, and they’re saying, “The boy looked for the frog behind the tree,” and you’re like, “I know how you elicited this sentence.” But the nice thing about it not having written words is that you can use it with children, you can use it with speakers of a bunch of different languages. It does have some relatively culturally-specific concepts like, you know, do you recognise pictures as telling a story in a particular order? Is this cartoon drawing of a frog legible to you as a frog? But it is at least more culturally abstract than just having people directly translate a particular type of story word-by-word.
Lauren: I appreciate it because it leads to some really charming example sentences when people are discussing, say, how the structure of sentences works or maybe how people put together a story in a particular culture.
Gretchen: It’s got that sort of, you know, the frog runs away, and then the frog is found, and it follows that narrative arc of losing something and the finding it, which is I think relatively straightforward to tell in a bunch of languages.
Lauren: A book is very easy to take with you regardless of where you’re doing your analysis. You don’t need to have electricity or anything compared to another really common thing that’s used to get people to tell stories, which is a short video called “The Pear Story.”
Gretchen: “The Pear Story” is so charming. It’s this six-minute film that was produced at the University of California at Berkeley in 1975. It has no language in it. There’s sound effects, but no one says anything. You have this story that they showed to a bunch of speakers of languages who are asked to then retell the story from the images.
Lauren: You can tell it’s from 1975 because people have amazing pants and hair from the era.
Gretchen: Oh, yeah, there is for sure some flair in those pants. The story is, roughly, having just watched it – this is on YouTube if you want to watch it for yourself – but there’s a man who’s a farmer, I guess, who’s got a kerchief around his neck. He’s climbing a ladder up a tree, picking some pears, and putting them in a basket. He picks a whole basket full of pears and sets it down with the other basket of pears below the tree, and he goes back up the ladder. Then some guy comes by with a goat for no apparent reason.
Lauren: [Laughs] Yes.
Gretchen: As you do. Then a little boy comes by on a bicycle and picks up one of the big baskets of pears and puts it on the front handlebars of the bike and drives off with it. Bum bum bum.
Lauren: Right.
Gretchen: Then the kid on the bike runs into another group of three kids. One of them has a little paddle thing that has an elastic thing with a ball on the end.
Lauren: And they’re bouncing the paddleball thingamajig.
Gretchen: Yeah, that thing. And the kid on the bike runs into a rock and falls off the bike, and the pears fall all over the place. The kid’s okay. But the other kids help him put the pears back in the basket. And he goes off on the bike again except he’s – oh, he’s lost his hat, and the kids give his hat back as well. Then Bike Kid goes off into the sunset, and the other kids go off, and they’ve secretly each got a pear in their pocket that they took as thank you for helping with the basket. Then the farmer comes back down the tree and is like, “Oh my god! Where did my pears go? Where did the whole basket go?” And the three kids who were helping were like, “Oh, I dunno.” That’s the end of the story.
Lauren: One thing your retelling reminds me of is that this is actually really nicely shot. It’s clear that it’s in California, right. It feels like they actually got some film people to shoot a really, really nice film.
Gretchen: Right. And I think they got actors to be the characters because the characters look like they’re the wrong age for grad students.
Lauren: Which is often what happens when people are shooting an elicitation video on no budget.
Gretchen: Right. Like, it’s not just you and five of your friends from grad school. Because the kids are too young to be grad students, and the farmer looks middle aged. There are some middle-aged grad students, but it’s less like, “Okay, you got a bunch of people in their 20s to do this – 20s and 30s to do this.” It’s beautifully shot. It’s got nice lighting and all of this stuff. They got a goat. I dunno where they got the goat.
Lauren: Well, the goat reminds me, but when they put this pear story together – and it is literally called “The Pear Story,” unlike “Frog Story” which has a secret other name – when they put this together, they deliberately had these things they were trying to see whether they would come up or how people would do them in narratives across language. The goat being there that has nothing to do with the story is whether people pay attention to background information. The fact that we start off – you said “a farmer” at the start, and when he comes back, he’s “the farmer.” You’re reidentifying the same person. Even the paddleball little bouncy thingy thing was deliberately something that people might not have a name for immediately so that they would have to do essentially what we did and negotiate what it’s called.
Gretchen: So, you learn the language’s word for “thingamajig” or “toy,” or I don’t – the way you describe something you don’t necessarily have words for because languages do have ways of describing things they don’t have words for. If you put something that the word for which is very obscure, I don’t know what the word is for this in English, then people have to figure out how to describe it. I guess, I dunno, probably all languages don’t have words for pears, but presumably, you might say “fruit” or something like that if you didn’t have a specific word for “pear.”
Lauren: Not getting too bogged down in the detail, but what makes it really powerful is that there was a book about analysing Pear storytellings in the 1980s. People have continued to use “The Pear Story.” So, it starts to become something where you can benchmark experience in storytelling across languages. For example, there’s this really great paper about Meithei, which is a language in the northeast of India where Shobhana Chelliah was working with this language and noticed that when people tell stories there’s not an expectation that you necessarily say who is doing what, but it should be apparent from context. You might not necessarily say “the boys” or the “the farmer” every time they do something. Instead, you focus more on the actions, and it’s through the conversation that people keep track of who’s doing what. It was really hard to know exactly who was doing what in a story that people were telling about what happened in their own village or in their own family last week. She recorded a bunch of people telling “The Pear Story” and could literally count the number of times they said, “the farmer,” “the boy.”
Gretchen: And because the researcher already knows what happens in the video, it gives you this shared common ground. And generally, the task is something like you have people watch a video, and then you have them retell the story of the video to someone who hasn’t seen it, say, “Tell it to this person who hasn’t seen it,” or “Tell it to me,” and you say that you haven’t seen it. It’s a relatively natural-ish context. People often know a story that they’re telling to someone else who hasn’t experienced it. I mean, it’s as natural as you can get for something that’s relatively constrained so that everyone’s doing the same task, whereas “The Frog Story,” you have people flip through page by page and narrate what’s happening on each page, “The Pear Story” tends to be you have people watch the whole thing and then retell the story afterward.
Lauren: Because it’s being recorded in a bunch of other languages, they could literally go back and say, “Yeah, in Meithei, there really are fewer times that people say who is doing what compared to the existing tellings that we have in languages like English.” So, a really neat example of how this kind of task can be really helpful in understanding how different languages do storytelling differently.
Gretchen: Do you have any examples of this from the gesture literature?
Lauren: I do, indeed. Because you can immediately tell when something is situated in the gesture literature because they make people watch a particular Sylvester and Tweety Bird cartoon from Warner Brothers.
Gretchen: Okay. They didn’t get a bunch of University of California grad students to act it out in the field?
Lauren: They did not. But anytime you see an example of a cat climbing or a cat swinging or something about a bird, you almost always know that it’s taken from a particular cartoon called “Canary Row,” which is where Tweety Bird is in one apartment building, and across the road, Sylvester’s in the other. Sylvester in this eternal quest to get to Tweety Bird – there’s lots of different actions that Sylvester performs. When you get people to retell it, you get really great gestures out of them. I feel when I read a gesture studies paper, and they’ve played this – and it doesn’t require language, so you can play it to speakers of English or Turkish or Japanese. Every time I see example sentences from “Canary Row,” I just feel this, like, “Aww.”
Gretchen: “Aww.”
Lauren: “It’s a gesture paper.”
Gretchen: It’s cute how stories like this can also become part of linguistics as a cultural area where you feel part of gesture studies as a culture by seeing the Sylvester and Tweety one. “The Pear Story” was part of my grad school tradition when we did a field methods class. It was like, “Okay, we’re gonna learn how to use ‘The Pear Story’ when it comes to elicitation.” I took other field methods classes where we didn’t use “The Pear Story,” but in this one, it was part of that enculturation. There’s probably other examples of texts that are canonical sets of examples in other lineages of linguistics, we’re just showing the ones that are available to us in our context.
Lauren: Yeah, I know Frog Story is really popular with people doing language documentation because you can just pack a book in your field kit. It’s also popular with child language acquisition researchers because parent-child interaction around books is a relatively common thing, especially in Western cultures. It becomes fun the more you work in these areas, and you begin to recognise recurring texts from the examples that people produce in talks or in papers.
Gretchen: I think we could really, if we ever wanted to get into publishing a line of children’s books – you know, produce “The North Wind and the Sun,” “Please Call Stella” – you could illustrate that like a children’s book. I guess Mercer Mayer already has the copywrite on “The Frog Story,” but you know, maybe he’d like to produce a special edition just for linguists. You could have a whole line of linguistically relevant children’s books.
Lauren: Exceedingly charming.
Gretchen: Somebody commission this from us.
Lauren: Getting people to produce sentences either by reading passages or reading stories or retelling stories is one way to come up with example sentences to illustrate a feature of a language. But there is also a long tradition in linguistics of people coming up with example sentences.
Gretchen: Right. Because we all know at least one language in some capacity. Sometimes, you study a language by going and finding a speaker or a signer and saying, “Hey, can you say this? Or can you say some stuff for me?”, and I’ll record it, and I’ll analyse it, but you, yourself, are also someone who knows a language. So, if I wanna say, “‘Please call Stella’ is a sentence in English,” I don’t necessarily need to go and ask 20 of my friends to be like, “Yeah, I think that any English speaker would just understand me.” There’s the armchair-inside-your-office method of saying, “Yeah, if I think that ‘The dog chased the cat’ is a grammatical sentence in English.” I don’t necessarily need to go ask 100 people just to confirm this relatively basic thing. Then there’s the slightly expanded version which is, “Okay, I think this is a sentence in English,” and then you do a talk about your paper for a research group or at a conference, and there’s a dozen people in the room, or there’s 20 or 40 people in the room, and if they all speak English or French or whatever the language of your paper is in, and everyone in the room agrees, “Yeah, we think the sentences that you’ve presented in this language are valid,” then it’s like you’ve surveyed those 20 or 40 people. I think sometimes that linguists should give themselves more credit for this. There are really interesting papers trying to replicate these grammaticality judgements and like, what if we tested some of these sentences on 100 and see – like, sometimes there are regional differences, or people will have individual idiolect differences about which things they find work for them as a sentence or not. It is worth testing some of these. But often, if you have actually tested them on everybody in your department, or everybody who was attending this particular conference talk, it is actually running them by 20 people or 40 people, which is a pretty good statistical number.
Lauren: There is also a tradition of creating sentences and getting people to check them when it’s not a language you have strong intuitions about yourself. One of my favourite things to do while doing this is to create sentences that I know people won’t find grammatical just to double check I haven’t missed anything about how things might work in the language.
Gretchen: And to reinforce that you are not expecting them to just say yes for every single sentence.
Lauren: Yeah. Running past, “Ah, can we say, ‘Please Stella call’?”
Gretchen: People are like, “No, what? No.”
Lauren: I do feel sorry for people who I do this to who are just like, “Has she learnt nothing from us?”
Gretchen: It’s also fun when people will have – you know, because sometimes you just need some names. Like, who’s Stella? Why is she in these sentences? You need some names of people to be in your sentences. Sometimes, people will come up with cute, recurring characters from if they’re watching a particular TV show, they’ll start naming characters in their class about things. David Adger’s book, Language Unlimited, he uses his cat and his husband as the example people in these sentences, which is very charming.
Lauren: How did you come up with examples for Because Internet?
Gretchen: I particularly wanted in Because Internet to not have the people in the example sentences seem gendered. Sometimes, you see a lot of Johns and Marys in example sentences, and I just think that’s boring.
Lauren: There’s a lot of Stellas buying snacks for her brother Bob.
Gretchen: Those are very generic Anglo names. And I was like, “Well, this is kind of dull.” And also, that in Because Internet, the book is trying to be fun and interesting for people, I thought if I make silly example person names, that will make it more fun to read, and that’s one of my goals. I deliberately used the “Boaty McBoatface” method of coming up with example sentences.
Lauren: Okay. What does that look like?
Gretchen: Can I read you an example?
Lauren: Sure.
Gretchen: “You’re more likely to start using a new word from Friendy McNetwork, who shares a lot of mutual friends with you, and less likely to pick it up from Rando McRandomface, who doesn’t share any of your friends even if you and Rando follow each other just like you and Friendy do.”
Lauren: I like that if you had just used “Stella” and “Bob,” by the time we got to “You and Bob would use more words in common” because I can’t remember if Bob is the one you’re friends with.
Gretchen: Exactly. Naming them after the trait that they’re supposed to have – like “Friendy McNetwork” is the one you have a lot of shared friends with and “Rando” is the one that you know them, but you don’t have any friends in common. Then when you get to the second half of the sentence, “even if you and Rando follow each other just like you and Friendy do,” it’s really easy to track which one is which in the earlier part of the sentence. There’s practical considerations, but also, I found it kind of fun, you know, they’re gender neutral. They’re clearly not anyone’s real name. They’re sort of fanciful and a bit fun.
Lauren: I always like a bit of whimsy when it comes to examples. In our recent auxiliaries episode, we really leaned heavily into the farm theme that we created for that episode.
Gretchen: Yes, we did. Because it’s sometimes when you know that you’re gonna need a whole bunch of examples in a text or an episode, it’s fun to theme them so that you’re not just reaching for the same – like I think we used examples like “I like cake” a lot, or like, “I eat ice cream.” A lot of our examples are about ice cream and cake, which is fun. I mean, we do like both of these things, but sometimes, for an episode that’s gonna be really example heavy, using horses and farmyard animals and stuff is a fun way to make it a little more distinct from other episodes.
Lauren: This is where you can really tell the difference between a piece of linguistic work where the examples have come from someone’s intuitions to illustrate something compared to when the focus has been on finding examples from the stories and recordings and conversations that people have that are much more spontaneous where they might not always be so smooth and perfect. You might be missing the person who’s doing the thing in “The Pear Story,” but there’s a really great example of how it has some kind of particular emphasis or spin. Whether you use created examples or found examples can really change the flavour of how you’re doing your analysis.
Gretchen: Right. I think ideally, one wants to have a balance of both. It can be useful to have things that are easier to compare to other languages because they’re more similar, and then also, you really wanna consider the language in and of itself and not be always forcing it in the mould of “Well, let’s be able to compare it.” Also, we wanna see “What are people doing in this language when you don’t have a preconceived idea of what you’re doing with them?” It’s a balance between those two types of things. One’s easier to work with, and one is potentially gonna give you insights that you weren’t looking for.
Lauren: On top of juggling that, it’s also worth paying attention to whether you’re beginning to get a bit of a bias in the examples in terms of the vibes as well as what’s happening linguistically.
Gretchen: A lot of these examples are coming from the ’60s and ’70s, and they present this very bucolic view of what types of things people talk about. I noticed that there’s a lot of male entities in a lot of these sentences, except for our friend Stella, to whom we call.
Lauren: But Stella’s doing a lot of work.
Gretchen: She’s getting all those things for her brother Bob. But “The Pear Story” has a farmer with a moustache in a tree, and it has a boy on a bicycle, and I think it has a girl go by on a bike as well, but there’s a lot more male entities in several of these examples. Same with “The Frog Story,” which has a little boy and a frog. It might be that gender signifiers in different cultures are different, and that some people read these stories and read the characters gender-neutrally or read them as female. And I don’t wanna say that this isn’t a possibility, but from the English perspective of people who were composing these, they’re gender biased in a particular way.
Lauren: For sure. It’s not just vibes. There’s a great paper from 1997 by Macaulay and Brice that looks at just how gender stereotyping happens, especially in syntax examples for sentence structure. They do see not only there’re more examples where they use men or male names, but if they do have women or female names in the examples, they are usually being acted upon or required to chase down snacks for their brothers.
Gretchen: I think that one may be particular to the “Please Call Stella” example. But you’re more likely to have a sentence that’s like, “John saw Mary,” than you are “Mary saw John,” even though both of those are equally valid. For a while – this was wild to me when I learned it – for a while, there were explicit style guide policies that said by default you should prefer male names in the subject position and female names in the object position. I’m like, whoa, that was a policy at some point! Okay.
Lauren: Was it? It’s not even unconscious bias. It’s deliberate choice.
Gretchen: That was a deliberate choice back in the day. That was a style guide thing. Undoing that, now that it’s become this unconscious thing that people are still doing, is more challenging. The fun thing, I guess, about how a lot of example sentences in old school syntax papers use “John” and “Mary” and “Bill” is that there is someone who took a bunch of example sentences from papers since the refer to the same people and stitched them together into a single narrative about the adventures of John and Mary and Bill.
Lauren: Another in our children’s picture book series.
Gretchen: Oh my gosh, this is like the See Spot Run of linguistics!
Lauren: It’s not only worth paying attention to who is doing what but the “what” that is happening. There’s this really unfortunate fact that when you want to have a sentence where someone is doing something to someone else, the best – in terms of showing stuff linguistically – thing to have them do is hitting.
Gretchen: Oh no.
Lauren: Because it’s very clear that there’s one animate, active person doing something to another entity, and it’s very distinct and clear and active.
Gretchen: It’s something where you can have an animate person acting on another animate person. For example, if you cut the bread or something, you have an animate acting on an inanimate like “bread” or “cheese” or something, so it’s more clear who’s doing what to who because the cheese isn’t gonna come around and try to cut me – unless I have a very sharp cheddar. Dun dun dun.
Lauren: Ahhhhhh. [Laughs]
Gretchen: Whereas if you have “The girl hit the boy” or something – like little kids sometimes hit each other – that’s the more benign version of that example. It’s true people sometimes hit each other. This is a thing that you can talk about in languages. It’s very often transitive. But also, it can lead to these uncomfortable example sentences where you’re like, “Ah, this seems to be reinforcing certain types of patterns of violence.”
Lauren: Especially when you’re writing, say, an entire book that’s a descriptive grammar of a language, and again and again you just have these men hitting other people and animals, and you’re like, “I do think this adequately represents what’s happening linguistically, but I feel really off about what it’s showing people culturally.” It may not even be about this culture. It’s about what the linguist is trying to do.
Gretchen: Sometimes, people try to replace this with a verb that’s less violent like “kiss.”
Lauren: Also, a bit weird.
Gretchen: But that gets into consent issues. If you just go around kissing people, they might not like that. You’d say, “Well, why not use a verb like ‘see’?” But the thing is, “see” often does extra, additional things in the structure in many languages. Like, some languages you have to use “see” plus a word meaning “at” or “to.” You can’t just “see” someone. You “see at” someone or “see to” someone. If you want a very straightforwardly transitive example, something like “see” is like you have to test it to see whether it works in the language. Yeah, it's very complicated because there aren’t a ton of verbs that involve people directly acting on other people, and sometimes they have meanings that you don’t want to introduce.
Lauren: So, between what you’re trying to do linguistically, what level of language you’re analysing, and then how you wanna present those examples and the language that you’re working with, balancing what’s happening with example sentences is really hard.
Gretchen: Right. In addition to the named entities sometimes having a gender bias, there’s also – when you’re working on a given language, people will often pick a couple common names in that language to use. I think a lot of Japanese examples use the name “Taro,” which is a relatively common name. I’ve learned some common names in various languages when you have someone who’s doing a paper, and they’re like, “Oh, yeah, these are the two common names that we’re gonna use.” You know, picking a couple common names in a given language sort of works. But in English where there’re lots of English speakers from lots of different cultures who have lots of different backgrounds, if we leave ourselves with “John” and “Mary,” that also presents this 1960s, old-school, very waspy version of who could be an English speaker.
Lauren: The great this is that you don’t have to do this hard work yourself. There’s been this great project called the Diverse Names Generator where they’ve done the work for you of finding names that skew masculine or skew feminine or are gender neutral and come from a range of different linguistic and cultural backgrounds.
Gretchen: These names on the Diverse Names Generator website, which is very easy to use, have International Phonetic Alphabet transcriptions, so if you don’t necessarily know how to pronounce them, you can see them there. You can add contributions yourself if you think, “Oh, there could be some more names.” You could just use a baby names book – and I’m sure people have – but one of the advantages that this has is it lets you filter for certain types of things that might be relevant to linguists. Sometimes, you wanna have the names in your example sentences, you want the first one to have a name that begins with A, and the next one a name that begins with B, and the next one that begins with C or something, just to help keep track of the different names of participants. You can also do things like filter for certain types of lengths or certain types of initial letters to make them balance out for other types of things you might want in your example sentences. I’ve also seen recommendations to just use gender neutral, especially very short, names for all of your sentences, so names like “Lee” or “Alice” or “Pat,” “Sam.” The complication of this is that sometimes gender-neutral names shift depending on the decade. One of these earlier recommendations has “Kim” as a recommended gender-neutral name. I dunno if that name reads as gender-neutral anymore.
Lauren: Hmm, a good reminder that even as we use sample texts that have become traditional in linguistics, it’s also worth revisiting them and thinking about what we want to have present in the examples that we create.
Gretchen: Right. In addition to making things that are in conversation with this linguistic lineage where there may be hundreds or thousands of examples in a given language, thinking, “Okay, what could be the future set of examples that we wanna use or the future set of texts that we wanna use, and what are the gaps that we’re trying to fill in as far as figuring out what we might wanna be able to compare across languages in the future?”
[Music]
Lauren: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, “Not Judging Your Grammar” stickers, and aesthetic IPA posters, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I tweet and blog as Superlinguo.
Gretchen: I can be found as @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet. Lingthusiasm is able to keep existing thanks to the support of our patrons. If you wanna get an extra Lingthusiasm episode to listen to every month, our entire archive of bonus episodes to listen to right now, or if you just wanna help keep the show running ad-free, go to patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons can also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and be the first to find out about new merch and other announcements. Recent bonus topics include our 2022 listener survey responses, using linguistics in the workplace, and our very special, [ASMR voice] very soothing, Lingthusiasmr episode where we read the Harvard Sentences to you in a calm, soothing voice. [Regular voice] If you can’t afford to pledge, that’s okay, too. We also really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm – and maybe Lingthusiasmr? – to anyone in your life who’s curious about language.
Lauren: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our Production Assistant is Martha Tsutsui-Billins [and our editorial assistant is Jon Kruk]. Our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.
Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!
[Music]
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
#language#linguistics#lingthusiasm#episode 82#transcripts#podcasts#example sentences#field work#phonetics#syntax#the frog story#the pear story#the harvard sentences#the rainbow passage
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For the lyric prompt, how about something from the Love section? Either "No, it’s not like any other love/This one is different because it’s us" or "If they dare touch a hair on your head/I’ll fight to the last breath" for either Hector/Karlach or (if you feel like indulging me with an old favorite... 😉) Aria/Morgana.
I will do both, because you are super cool. <3 Aria/Morgana drabble will be in another post later on. :)
"No, it’s not like any other love… This one is different because it’s us…"
------
“Tell me about the Outer City,” Hector says one night, idly brushing his fingers through Karlach’s hair.
She stirs drowsily; she’d been slowly falling asleep to the beat of his heart, her head resting on his bare chest. “Hm?”
“About growing up there.” He smiles slightly. “I know nothing about the city. But when you talk about your time there, you sound happy.”
“Oh.” She shifts so that she can twist her body in a slow, lazy stretch, like a cat preparing itself for a nap in the sun. “I was, yeah. Most of the time, at least.” She grins. “Guess nowhere’s perfect though.” She settles back against him, this time with her chin resting on her hands so she can look up at his face. “I was just a kid, y’know. Young and dumb.”
He chuckles. “I suspect my ‘young and dumb’ years did not quite look like yours.”
“Probably.” She purses out her lips thoughtfully. “I liked the people. There were always so many people around, all going in different directions, living different lives. Different things to see every day, different stories to hear.”
He considers this, compares it to the calm, orderly life and familiar faces of the monastery where he grew up. “It sounds rather overwhelming,” he says with a soft laugh.
She shrugs. “Eh. You get used to it. And, well… all of us were a bit in the shit, you know? Outer City isn’t posh. Everything’s kinda dirty, or stinks, or falls over if you look at it too hard. But all those people around - you feel like you’re not in it alone, y’know?” Her smile fades a little and she hunches up her shoulders to snuggle her body down against him. “Hated that about Avernus. You’d think even a devil army might have a little camaraderie, but all those fuckers just hated each other. Couldn’t wait to stab each other in the back. We had some of those in the city, too, of course, but it was everybody in Avernus.”
He draws his fingertips slowly across her shoulders, along her neck, up her cheek and the side of her jaw. It’s been months now, but touching her still feels like a gift after all the time spent longing for it. “I can understand that,” he says with a slight nod. “Not feeling like you’re alone, I mean. Like our little group here - it’s helped, knowing we were all facing this together.”
She grins, rolling her head to follow the movement of his hand. “Yeah. You get it.”
“What did you do for fun?” he prompts. He is enjoying just listening to her talk, the rolling lilt of her voice with the memories of happier times.
“Used to hang around the pubs a lot. Elfsong, Mermaid,” she says, her expression going more distant as she thinks back. “Down to the harbor to watch the ships, when I was real young. A few times we snuck in to watch plays at the Oasis. Never had the money for a ticket but we could get in the stage door; one of my friends knew one of the stagehands and he’d get us up to a balcony no one was using.” She smiles nostalgically. “Never seen anything like that anywhere else - all color and light and music.”
She shifts a little to rub at her jaw with a pensive expression. “Let’s see. Lots of festivals in the Outer City. Market days. Always plenty of work to do for an extra bit of coin.” She grins crookedly and pokes at his chest. “And this, of course.”
“This?” He blinks.
“Sex,” she says, and laughs, seeing him blush. “You know, that thing we’ve been doing?”
“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Kept you busy, hm?”
“I told you - hadn’t really figured out anything more than that before I got shipped off to the Hells.” She huffs out a breath heavily and rests her chin back on his chest, stretching her arms out until her hands find his and hold onto them. “But there were plenty of takers for what I had on offer.”
He isn’t jealous, not really - she had never met him, never even heard of him, at the time; why would he be jealous? - but he is curious. “People you wished were more?” he asks.
She doesn’t say anything for a little while, thinking. “Maybe,” she finally says doubtfully. “None of us really thought about it, I guess. We liked it simple. Well, I did, anyway. I liked feeling good - still do. And didn't really see the point in getting tangled up more than that. If I’d stuck around longer… I don’t know. Maybe.”
She hesitates, then digs her elbows into the ground on either side of him to pull herself up his body and press her lips against his firmly. “I didn’t know what I was missing, though, that’s for sure,” she murmurs.
“Mm?” He smiles playfully into the kiss. “And what were you missing?”
She mock-slaps his jaw with her fingertips and laughs. “Fishing for compliments again?” Another kiss, slower this time. “I don’t know how to put it into words, really,” she goes on after a little while. “This, you… it’s not like anything before. It’s about us, y’know? Not just our bodies, not just a quick roll, but us. I get to know you, all of you, and you know me. I never had that before.” She rests her head against his shoulder, her lips brushing his neck. “Not saying what I had back in the city was bad, but… makes it so much better.”
He nods. “I have nothing to compare it to,” he says quietly. “In a way I wish I did, so I could know too, that this is nothing like anything else. But I believe it.” A pause. “I love you. I’m glad you weren’t alone back then. But I’m glad you found me, in the end.”
She looks up to meet his eyes, cups her palm against his cheek. “Me too, Soldier.”
#bjk plays baldur's gate 3#hector carlisle#karlach#karlach bg3#karlach x tav#karlach cliffgate#drabble#morganaseren#ask meme#ty for the prompt friend <3#i hope you enjoy
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Earwen’s future sister-in-law hummed constantly.
From the time they started this appointment some three hours ago, any time not spent talking logistics about fabric, cuts, sleeves, and adornments was filled with Anaire’s low melody. And that was quite a bit of time. Anaire had gone through the discussion of dressmaking specifications quickly and efficiently.
The actually nipping and tucking and experimentation of making this dress was not done quickly, or even particularly efficiently. Skillfully, certainly. Throughly, absolutely. And musically.
It had taken Earwen like… an hour and a half to figure out what that melody was. After being forced to stand still as the fabric at her waist was fiddled and re-fiddled with she was pretty sure it was an entire rendition of The Dance of Vana and Orome.
Which was impressive, considering Earwen had never once listened to that opera without falling asleep halfway through. It was so long.
Anaire is patient, Earwen thought, as the lady in question painstakingly sowed a bead onto her bodice, Anaire has a good-memory.
“How do you like that, love?” Anaire asked in her light, sing-song voice, and Earwen thought, Anaire is so very sweet.
As she turned to look in the mirror, Earwen was pleased with how her wedding dress was coming along, but even more pleased with her growing observations of Ingoldo’s sister-in-law. That was why she arranged for this session, after all, all the ones before and all the ones after. Earwen wanted to have an excuse to get to know Anaire better.
Having her wedding dress made by the best seamstress in Tirion was a bonus.
“It’s beautiful, Anaire,” Earwen said, swaying a little as she looked at herself in the mirror.
Anaire made a pleased little sound from behind her, and Earwen looked at her in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, her needle-callused fingers pressed together in front of her chin, and she swayed her head a little. They made eye-contact, and Earwen saw her gaze narrow slightly.
The humming started up again as Anaire began to circle her, but it was more contemplative.
“Darling,” Anaire said, and her endearments were so endearing, they always felt like they were truly meant, “there is something you’re not telling me. The dress… I can feel how it does not sit quite right on you yet.”
Anaire finished making a full-circle, and when she reached Earwen’s front, she gently took both her hands in hers.
“You might confide in me. I want what I make for you to be perfect.”
And Earwen blushed around her emerging, sheepish grin.
Oh, goodness, Anaire is lovely, alighted in her mind, I can see why Nolofinwe is so enamored with her.
Earwen felt enamored with her earnestness, her resolve, her unbearably gentle voice. Oh, oh, she wanted to be her friend. She wanted to be liked by Anaire so badly, which was strange, because Anaire had already made her feel like she was liked.
Earwen could not have lied or obfuscated to her even if she wanted to.
“Its… the bottom half,” she said slowly, and Anaire hummed and looked down, started picking at the skirts. “They’re, well, I mean, they’re lovely. But constrictive. Very Noldor. Which is beautiful, of course, but-“
“But your are princess of the Teleri,” Anaire declared softly with absolute understanding, a small, graceful smile on her lips.
“Precisely!” Earwen chimed, grinning a feeling obnoxiously loud in contrast but far to happy to demure.
Anaire nodded. She stepped back, placing a finger to her lips and tapping and she hummed once more.
“Oh, hm. Yes, I think… My dear? I hope you’ll forgive me, but we must cut this session short. I’ve some research to do. Might we pick back up tomorrow?”
“Yes!” Earwen cried, perhaps too quickly, but Anaire just smiled wider, her eyes closing in happiness.
Their next session scheduled, Earwen skipped home, whistling one of the songs from the Dance of Vana and Orome, already planning how she would tease Ingoldo at dinner.
It was smart of you to not introduce me to Anaire before you proposed! Because, hoo boy, if I wasn’t getting married-
#earwen#anaire#Earwen who is a mischievous little gremlin#and Anaire who is a sweet anime girl who never opens her eyes#are very important to me#and so is their friendship/romance#tolkien#the silmarillion#fanfic#tribble post
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Hey, so i decided to post something here :) I'm an Wattpad writer and i have some readers there, so I believe it can also work here :) just a remind:
*English is not my first idiom!!* Actually, i still learning, I wrote it on Google docs and correct the English in the Google translate, so, if there's something wrong, ignore it, please :)
*warning*: nightmare! It's just a cute imagine of Oscar Piastri cause him is very forgetful in the F1 fandom. Enjoy it! <3
— hmm... Hi? - you whisper when the phone is answered, you're not sure why because you're home alone.
- What happened, honey? — the voice on the other end of the line is thick and sends a shiver down your spine, Oscar must have woken up already, makes sense considering it's 3 am.
“I… Hm… I had a nightmare…” Your voice is still low, you're embarrassed. All of a sudden, calling your boyfriend in the middle of the twilight when he's halfway across the world just because you had a nightmare seems ridiculous. "I'm sorry honey, I..."
You say it, but you're interrupted by Oscar's sleepy voice, you feel your stomach twist, you love the young man's Piastri voice, even more so when he's sleepy.
"no need to worry, my love, come on, tell me everything you dreamed of." he asks, you hear the sound of something calling and the music of Lando's sleepy voice.
— I dreamed that… — you sigh, afraid that if you say it out loud, it will become even more real.
— come on, my little one, tell me, it was just a nightmare, it can't be that bad… —he asks, you curl up a little under the sheets, pulling your legs towards you.
“I… dreamed it was raining on your run… your car skids and… hits the sergeant… head trauma… affecting your memory… you forgot about us…” you sniff, he's sensitive after that nightmare, it was too real to just ignore.
Oscar is silent for a few seconds, speaking after a sigh.
"I need you to relax, okay?" None of this will happen, it's just a nightmare my little one, it doesn't affect reality, okay? Can you relax for me? I can't go back to London to hug you right now, but I'm here for security, okay? nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow, on the contrary, I'm going to be in the top 3 in my GP at home and I'm going to talk about you in every interview, but I need you to relax first, ok? — his voice is peaceful and you would like to see him, his eyes would be so kind right now…
“Okay,” you say, sniffling one last time. You spend a few minutes in silence, just listening to each other's breathing, trying to believe that he is telling the truth.
“I love you,” he says, that Australian accent that makes your heart race. Do you remember how you loved the British accent before you knew the Oscar accent.
Because nobody's British was cool when compared to your Aussie.
— thank you…- you whisper, appreciating the way he makes you feel safe, even being an ocean away.
— always a pleasure, my little one. —you hear him moving on the sheet, both rooms are quiet. The feeling is so good that it feels like you are in a parallel reality.
— I... - you yawn and before you can say anything else, Oscar speaks.
“It's too late for you to stay awake, little girl. I know you have an exam tomorrow, so close those pretty, fluffy eyes of you that I love so much and rest. I need my future doctor no later than tomorrow — you smile sleepily, happy to hear his voice and he keeps talking — when I get back to London, I'll take you in the buggies bump bump, I could take you in the kart, but I don't no I want to risk it, my medical future is too precious to risk it. I need to keep her safe and to myself, I'm sure I'll be needing a doctor like you in the very near future...
He kept talking for a few more minutes, but you didn't listen. You fall asleep between a sweet phrase that Oscar was saying to you in any twilight, a smile on your face and a heart full of warmth.
Oh, it's so good love Oscar Piastri…
#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#oscar piastri#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#imagines#imagine#f1 x you#cute boys#fluffy#fluff imagine#boyfriend
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At this point, I'm just used to your jokes now. Still doesn't mean that I cringe whenever I hear them /j
Indeed, I suppose I could become novice musicians along with Lippmann. Do you want to join us? It might even be cheap because of a two-in-one deal. I'll keep on learning the piano while you two can learn the violin. Maybe learn some musician pickup lines to impress Lippmann later on.
And for the Chopin? I thought about it again, but I think that it isn't considered sacrilegious. It still sounds nice afterall, and I'm pretty sure Chopin wouldn't mind. But I prefer the piano version as it sounds more clear.
Please don't give your jokes to Lippmann or anybody else. I can put up with it as I'm your brother, but other people will simply die of the cringiness of your corny jokes lmaoo /j. And afterwards I'll actually decapacitate myself because of the amount of terrible jokes I've had to hear. Pianoman don't you dare xD
An old couple, you say? Well, I don't know how to feel about that; we aren't even together. I convinced Silver to finally take a nap, but she just couldn't sleep. So in the end I had to literally hug her and stroke her hair to help her fall asleep... my heart has never pounded so quickly and loudly before.
Oh, my dear sister, how you make me laugh. I just wonder how you haven't thought up of such an easy reply, but I guess I am a genius. And do not worry, your secret is safe with me, because I definitely do not want to be strangled by those wires while being bombarded with your corny jokes.
Really? Is that what you know him for? Well, that Dazai definitely is cunning and mischievous. I'd have you know that he went head-to-head with Iceman, and Iceman even failed to assassinate him, so he isn't a 'poor guy'. And please don't try your jokes on him. He'd quite frankly punch you.
-🎹
P.S. At least you think so? Well, pray tell, what happens in those 'romance novels' that you read? And as for the date? I think it's still too early... however I think I know what Silver feels for me
ahh this is exactly why i love you <3 finee, i'll tone it down with the "cringy" jokes, at least in your presence.
see? i was right when i said you should change your name to "genius man." do you need to ask? i'm definitely down for it. finally, i'll get another chance. this time with the musician pickup lines. there's really no going back if i mess up again. i just hope i won't embarrass myself in either that or my violin learning process. thanks, genius man!
hm. by the way, do you think lippmann is "lippmann" because he has pretty-looking lips? /lmaoooo plss im cryinf asdfjkl anyway-
ooh, i'm glad it isn't some form of artistic sacrilege. i sometimes listen to orchestra performances, but you're right. having a single musical instrument-say, a piano- dedicated to a single piece will make the performance much clearer.
ha! bet! maybe i'll start saying it to someone i probably won't meet again. like the barista i buy my morning coffee from! or the newspaper guy, or the old lady walking her dog down the street-okay that may be a bit too cruel. i'll probably still say one or two things to the men you stationed near our house though. to alleviate their stress and tension for a bit./lmao the saga continues
you.. you what?? brother, you don't even hold me and stroke my hair to sleep when we were toddlers. i think i'm missing something. oooh boy, when's the wedding day? i can't wait to be an aunt. i wonder if it's gonna be a boy? or a girl? or twins! everyone should be invited. we'll have the grandest celebration ever.
aww this is why i love youu (2nd edition). seriously though. err, does this 'nakahara chuuya' has bright orange hair and uh, quite petite in stature? i bumped into him when i was on my way to see you, and he looked quite.. severe. my tongue just acted on its own, and that "axolotl joke" came out. he did give me a nasty sting eye, but i didn't get punched! i guess that's a good thing..? ahaha..
p.s. you know of her feelings?? excellent. this is all according to plan. i'm just a little worried a possible misunderstanding might breach you apart, though. you know, what if she thinks you're feeling attraction to someone else after you asked her about that "crush"? that sounds like a recipe for disaster.
#lmaooo i live for pianoman's headache and distress#i let everything loose in this rp sksks pls tell me if i went too far/made you uncomfy#[rp with silver]
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rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better.
tagged by: @butchsunbeam HI MUTUAL i saw your tag on the way to work and then i forgot about it </3 thank u for the tag though it made me smile
favorite time of year: i always say spring is my favorite season because i don't like when its hot and its nice when it stops being cold and i like flowers but if "christmas" is a time of year that's my favorite. i like everything about christmas especially the lights :) and i like snow even though it doesnt snow where i live now and i'm so sad
comfort food: hm i like a lot of food.. when i'm sad i like to drink a coffee or dandelion root tea (coffee substitute) and put milk and sugar in it (i dont usually put milk in it when i'm not sad). and i like birthday cake flavor. oh and pizza my favorite order is pineapple + chicken + ham with barbeque sauce
do you collect something: garbage!! :) kidding but not i have a little cardboard box i put stuff i find that isnt technically worth anything but i like (stuff like clothing tags, candy wrappers, broken jewelry, pressed leaves, loose change, etc). and i like plushies but i dont want too many because i want space in my bed
favorite drink: i like water its good. and blue gatorade and sprite
favorite song: i dont know actually everytime i listen to my own playlist i kind of dont like it <3 i don't know if i'd call it my favorite but i am rather fond of choke by idkhbtfm i find it oddly comforting. one time i was mad sick and i couldnt go to sleep or stay asleep so in my fevered haze i looked up "choke music box version" and played it on loop for literally 9ish hours straight so i could stay asleep
current favorite song: usually i dont know that either but i did just listen to right now by akon for two days. it just scratched my brain you know
favorite fic: bro i dont know im not really a fanfiction reader all i can think of is this sonic fanfiction i never finished where like scourge was in it and zonic the zone cop too and like the kid versions of sonic and tails came to the future and had to stay in grown up sonic and tails's house and i think scourge ate a toaster waffle. from what i remember it was like really well written and i might follow the author on tumblr to this day i cant remember
i don't usually tag anyone directly but if you would like to do this consider yourself tagged!
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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for genshin and/or angels of death? I’m very curious abt these two since I’ve never had a matchup done for them.. hm
I use they/he pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.
Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black (trad, mopey, mall, black-metal, and hippie goth styles mainly, both fem and masc) or and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, witchcraft, true crime, ghost hunting, necromancy, anatomy, etc. I typically consider myself a "gorehound" ig. I participate in "Vulture Culture"; and I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.
I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start talking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.
when I become comfortable with someone I start to become really sarcastic and joke around with them with witty banter. most of my humor comes off really insulting, and I’m brutally honest, but I’ll apologize and say it’s a joke or I didn’t mean it. though if I’m right a become a petty bitch..and quite honestly I’m vengeful to anyone who’s really wronged me. even though I do have a hard time understanding social cues.
lots of people don’t like me or stay away from me because of my rude behavior. I’m not good with overly sensitive or overly annoying people at all because of that, and I can’t stand kids. Idiocy can get on my nerves too sometimes. I’m a huge animal person though, and I own a herd of four guinea pigs that I protect with my life. I have my moments where I can get really feisty, or very quiet and closed off. I’ve been told I’m also a laidback person. I’ve also been told I never know when to quit, and I find I hold grudges for certain things. It’s not as common now but I used to get called a vampire by other kids when I was younger since I had oddly pointy canine teeth. I find it funny, seeing how I am today. I also have an inside joke with my family where they call me "Irl Wednesday Addams" which I find funny too (if not a little annoying at the wrong times).
I’m the type of person that has lots of opinions on things but I keep them to myself and bottle them up. If pushed far enough I’ll become unforgiving, and aggressive. especially with the types of people mentioned above.
I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( the cure, london after midnight, pierce the veil, deftones, soad, cannibal corpse, slipknot, rob zombie,,,, sometimes melanie martinez , insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory or shower thoughts I have. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar. I also work as a scare actor.
I’m a plushie maniac and when I fall asleep you can always see me cuddled up to one of them. I find it because I’m really touch starved. I also have this specific blanket I can literally not sleep without. Im also a caffeine addict, and I’m guilty of being very submissive and maybe even masochistic- and a bit of a pyromaniac. I dissociate or daydream a lot, so you can often catch me starring.
I suffer from a handful off mental and physical syndromes like asd, insomnia, asthma, depression and anxiety. These have all been diagnosed professionally, and I’m definitely not trying to make myself "quirky". unfortunately health problems run in my family.
I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.
you do get to this, thanks for your time. Feel free to send a ask in return. <3
Wow thankyou for taking the time to write all of that! <3
could you tell me more about what you want for a request??
Also you sound like a really dope person, I love that kind of music too and exploring abandoned places :D
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Sleepless
Shouta Aizawa X Reader (BNHA)
Warnings: 18+, bondage, bratty rc, over-stimulation, umm it’s just pure filth sandwiched between some fluff
Word Count: 3.9k
A good night’s rest? You’ve never heard of her!
“At least take off your heels before you throw yourself into bed,” your boyfriend’s voice rings out, still deeply agitated from a long night of feigned smiles and interest. You know that tone well— the exasperated sigh typically saved for his students at U.A— but the room is spinning too fast for you to take heed of his reprimand.
“M’too tired,” you slur your words, face down against your mattress.
The two of you had been at a pro-hero gala, or as Shouta called it, a “gaudy show of riches for politicians and government dickheads.” It had taken almost all of your energy, and a lot of homemade dishes, to persuade him to accept the invitation; however, he had followed through. He behaved properly all night, smiled and socialized with every partygoer that approached you, and even ensured the vicious insults on the tip of his tongue were whispered into your ears only after each person had turned away. You deemed the night a success, despite waving off Shouta’s warnings about that fourth glass of champagne you downed.
“You’re going to get our covers dirty, idiot.” You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at that word— our. Be it the hundredth or thousandth time, you don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him refer to the two of you as one. It had taken years for him to warm up to you, after all. While he considers it endearing now, you’re positive Shouta had initially found your constant laughter and positive nature unbearable, thinking of you as simply another nuisance to avoid; never had he met someone who reduced his usual threatening tone to something playful or entertaining. And little did either of you know, he would slowly come to adore the way his scolding amused you.
No amount of persuasion from his students or other heroes can convince you Shouta is actually intimidating. If anything, his constant stoicism only compels you to misbehave more. You love pressing his buttons, take pleasure in watching him get riled up and lose his calm demeanor. But as of this very moment, you’re simply too tired, and a bit too tipsy, to play along. You wave off his words with a flick of your wrist, only to feel a tug at your ankle.
“Wha–”
“Stop squirming. I’m trying to take them off,” he struggles with the straps woven intricately up your calves, “damned things are more tangled than my cloth.” When he finally removes them, you feel the pads of his fingertips graze your legs softly. Shocks travel your entire body as he pays special attention to the indents adorning your skin— drawbacks of the tight laces that are quite easy to disregard when they urge him to touch you so sweetly.
Shouta stalks away for a moment, only to return with a cotton pad and makeup remover. You’re surprised he even knows what products to use, though you know you shouldn’t be. He has spent countless minutes watching you complete your night routine intently, though usually his stare is paired with a sleepy grumble to hurry up and join him in bed.
He shifts you into a sitting position, wiping tenderly at your cheek while you pull off your false lashes.
“Those are fake?” He snorts, baffled.
“Mhhm, I’m prettier without them, right?” You poke fun at him, knowing he’ll ignore the cheesy question. A faint heat rises on his cheeks.
“Shut up and put this on,” he nudges one of his t-shirts into your arms before he slides your strapless dress down your body. Even with your eyes half-shut, you can feel his charged stare ogling every hill and valley of your naked form. His fingers barely skim you— a purposeful maneuver to focus on the task at hand— but your body jerks into his grasp, keen for more. Sleepy or not, you’d never waste an opportunity for a quickie. You know just how swiftly a few words and caresses on his part could have you bucking and sobbing, like putty in his han– “(Y/N), stop. You’re drunk and half-asleep.”
“Only tipsy and a quarter asleep, thank you very much.” Your eyes flutter open to see the beginnings of a smile touch his lips, but he just barely holds it back. He’s trying his damn hardest to remain stern, how cute. “Shou,” you mewl, elongating his name in the hopes that he’ll budge.
“Don’t pout at me,” he taps a chiding finger against your bottom lip, “the answer is no. I still have work to do.” Ignoring your whined protests, Shouta walks out of the bedroom. Seconds later, you hear his office door shut, a sign that he’ll be in there long into the night.
Any inkling of sleepiness your body possessed is gone without a trace, now feeling nothing but an intense heat coursing the skin your boyfriend brushed, and the alcohol left running through your veins only intensifies that warmth. You turn yourself over in bed, naively will yourself to succumb to sleep and deal with the ache tomorrow; however, your body has other plans. Your thighs press together on their own, desperate for any sort of relief to quell the throbbing between your legs, but it’s no use. Looks like you’re getting up.
With each step towards his office, you find yourself more impassioned. Who does Shou think he is anyways, leaving you alone in such a needy state? It’s not fair. He gives you the slightest taste of his touch and then cruelly rips it away. So if anything, it’s his fault that your body won’t rest until completely appeased— until he soothes the burn. Besides, you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow him the pleasure of hearing your moans through the thin walls knowing he goaded you into touching yourself.
Upon walking through the door of his workspace, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, the stealthy pro-hero, seated ever-so casually at his desk. He has a hand pressed adamantly against his temple and his hair up in a messy half-bun. So badly do you want to run your hands through it, tug the clip off so you can watch those beautiful, dark locks tumble down his shoulders. You always catch yourself silently hoping for a piece to fall in his eyes so that you can reach out and tuck it behind his ear, delighted when you have any excuse to stroke the soft waves between your fingertips.
“Shou,” you mumble, one hand rubbing at lidded eyes. The white glow of the computer screen washes over him as he turns to you, and you feel your breath hitch again at the Adonis in front of you.
He’s opted out of wearing any sort of top. Instead, gray joggers hang low on his hips, allowing you to feast your eyes on his lean chest and softly sculpted v-lines. A dark line of hair trails down into his pants, and you feel your mouth water at the idea of licking a long stripe up his navel.
“Can’t sleep.” You’re aware it comes out a whine, don’t care to correct your tone because it may just convince him to join you in bed. He rolls his eyes, your name flowing off his tongue with a low sigh— music to your ears.
“I have work to catch up on since somebody forced me to go to that stupid gala,” the accusation is probably sincere, but you smile anyways.
“Please,” there’s that whine again, “just five minutes.” This time your words are accompanied by a quick yank at the hem of your t-shirt. Your cleavage makes an appearance, and when you see his eyes wander up towards the supple globes— tongue just barely poking out to slide across his bottom lip— you know you’ve got him beat. He mutters under his breath, but the only words you catch are something along the lines of ‘pampered brat’.
Well, spoiled or not your methods work, and he’s the one indulging your whims anyways. Being curled up against Shouta’s sturdy chest, you find the fatigue of a long night creeping up on you once again. His close proximity is enough to relax you; all of your senses are engulfed in his presence, saturated with him. Your body gladly welcomes his scent with every inhale— clean laundry, aftershave, and something a bit woodier that can only be described as ‘Shouta’. Though he shaved this morning, newly grown stubble scruffs against you every time you nuzzle against his jaw. Slender fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing lazy circles into your scalp. And with your ear pressed to his chest, you realize the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat just might actually lull you into a deep sleep.
But that’s all before you hitch a leg around his hip to pull him closer. At the sensation of your heat nudged tightly against him, you feel his heartbeat rise rapidly. If any thoughts of sleep linger in your mind, the prospect of riling Shouta up— and perhaps securing an orgasm or two in the process— throws them out the window once again.
Your fingertips begin to caress his shoulders subtly, ear still pressed to his chest to listen for any jumps in his rhythm. The less he notices your movements, the easier it’ll be to overwhelm him all at once. When your fingers don’t incite any noticeable response, you run them through his hair instead. At the same time, you feign discomfort at the position you’re in and twist your hips slightly, making sure to press your core against him harder. You feel his breath hitch under you, and then your hair being jerked harshly.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” he forces you to look up at his cloudy eyes, always ringed with darkness no matter how much rest he receives. Caught. You flash him your sweetest pout, gazing up at him through dainty lashes. A slight ‘hm?’ leaves your lips, but within seconds, they’re attached to his neck, shamelessly kissing and nibbling at the sweet spot near his jaw. “If you’re not going to behave on your own, I’ll make you.” Your thighs tighten around his hips, goosebumps trailing your arms at the clear-cut threat.
“Do it then,” you urge between kisses, now peppering them up his jaw. Your teeth kiss the shell of his ear before you whisper, “or I’ll just keep misbehaving, daddy.”
In an instant, your face is shoved into the mattress, arms crossed behind your back with Shouta’s cock straining against you through his pants. Rigid cotton brushes against your folds and you realize that perhaps he was expecting this turn of events more than he let on, because the fucker never bothered giving you a change of underwear.
“You’re such a needy slut,” he spits, heated breath fanning your neck while he tightens his grasp around your wrists. “Can’t go one night without getting me worked up, huh?” His free hand darts under your shirt, now kneading and pinching at your ass.
“Nope,” you bite back, always ecstatic to provide sassy retorts, especially when he’s seething like this.
A stinging pain travels your body when he slaps the globe of your ass. Once, twice, five times, each spanking invoking a louder gasp until tears prick the corners of your eyes.
“Are you done acting up?” Shouta’s tone is slow and composed, almost disinterested. If not for his heaving chest pressed against your back, you would believe him unaffected by the punishment.
You, on the other hand, are very obviously flustered. Tears stream down your face freely now, and you’re positive the spanking has left a blazing handprint on your cheek as a reminder for days to come. Shouta gives you a final, petty love tap to shake you out of your thoughts. “I don’t have all night.”
But you’re left unsatisfied, the throbbing between your thighs only worsened by his harsh welts and complete neglect of your clit. He hasn’t made a single motion towards your glistening cunt, probably won’t ever if you simply take his discipline lying down.
“What if I’m not?” The words leave your mouth hesitantly, face turning to stare back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his own eyes narrowing and lips quivering into a disgusted scowl. Even though you’ve asked for this, know exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your heart quickens at the thrill of seeing your partner so worked up. He may not be outwardly angry— Shouta has always been a man who prefers quick, biting remarks over piercing screams and smashing glass— but his mannerisms tell you everything you need to know. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.
You feel the tight, unforgiving fabric knotted around your body before you’re even aware of what’s happening. Nimble fingers quickly wrap your arms in place. Then, your legs are bent at the knees and tied securely to your wrists. Only your taut midriff and breasts touch the mattress, leaving your sopping core exposed, no way to flail or deny him entrance. You’re his to do whatever he pleases with.
“Behave.” He wraps your hair around his wide palm and yanks hard, a pained cry leaving you at the prickling in your scalp. His fingers graze your slit, but never touch you where you need him. It’s absolutely maddening. You buck into him to no avail— the cloth wraps too firmly around your limbs.
“Shou, I– I, please,” you’re practically sobbing, his name leaving your lips over and over like a prayer. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve angered him.
“Who said you could speak?” He tugs harder on your locks. The motion rocks your skull, all nerves standing on end. It fucking hurts, but the action has your slit quivering all the same. “Are you going to be a good little whore now?”
“Yes, Shou.” The response wins you a sharp slap to the ass, the sore cheek. You suppress a loud wail, correcting yourself quickly. “Y-Yes daddy, I’ll behave.” He doesn’t respond, only lets out a low growl and loosens his grip on your hair.
Then, his presence is gone. He’s moved off the bed, and your cunt pulsates at the number of delicious things he may do next.
A slam rings out from your bedside dresser and he’s back within seconds. Something foreign, hard and long, is pressed against your tight hole. No stretching, no warning, he simply sinks the toy into your slick cunt. After a few merciless thrusts you’re whimpering softly, choking back pleas. If he wanted you to beg, you’d know it.
“Is this what you wanted?” The dildo is driven into you faster. “Is this what you were grinding like a bitch in heat for?” His words are spit like venom, tone disappointed— appalled— with you, but it only fuels your steady ascension to orgasm. You’re teetering closer and closer to the edge, but you just need a bit more. His cock, a finger on your clit, anything.
“Yes, yes, yes.” You can’t help the onslaught of moans that spill from your lips in between pants. His hands begin kneading at your ass again, right cheek still flaming with every touch. If he’d only remove the bindings, now digging tightly into your wrists and ankles, you’d be able to hump back onto the toy as you so desperately wish to.
He stills all at once, leaving you distraught and gasping. If you cry out, you’ll only be met with harsh reprimands. You want to sob— for his touch, for a break, for anything to soothe the ache in your core.
You hear it before you feel it.
A small buzzing noise as something is clicked on. Then, vibrations wracking your insides, your clit— a slew of pleasure as the dildo pulses. You sigh loudly, that stubborn itch finally being appeased by the pressure of the toy.
“Is my pretty little slut enjoying herself?” Shouta laughs behind you, voice still cold and filled with loathing. It’s as though he’s repulsed by your desire, your ceaseless need for him. You mewl loudly at the thought. “Mhm, and you’re going to continue enjoying yourself,” you feel the bed dip as he steps away, “until I finish my work.”
The fucking bastard. He’s leaving you tied up and helpless with a sex toy on the highest setting. He knows you’ll be a drooling mess for him, probably only half-conscious, by the time he’s back.
“N- no Shou, please.” Your protests do nothing to sway him. He simply snickers and walks out of the bedroom, leaving you to writhe and wail on your own. And God, does it feel good. Your stomach pulls taut as you rut against the bed like– like an animal. In a constant cycle of edging and ebbing, your orgasms build and build and build until you’re hit full force, only to begin all over again. It’s equal parts satisfying and unfulfilling, because fuck, do you just want your boyfriend’s cock inside you. It’s all you can think of— his warmth, his hands roaming your body, sweet, degrading nothings whispered into your ear while he pounds into you.
You lose track of time, aren’t even sure at this point whether your body is spasming or simply attempting to dispel the thick length inside you. The pleasure has turned to an entirely different ache, swollen clit now abused by the constant vibrations. Your voice is run hoarse, face carved into a permanent wince. And despite your attempts to stay quiet, chokes and gasps still rip through your throat. Even Shouta’s cloth is soaked through with the scorching sweat enveloping your body.
Though absolutely exhausted, you’re conscious enough to hear his quick steps as he makes his way to the bedroom. You can sense the smirk plastered across his face without even seeing it.
“Tired out?” Fingertips ghost over the cloth and across your painfully numb calves, nerves jumping at the feeling. “Ah’, you’ve soaked the bedspread.” A fierce blush runs across your skin, humiliated at the sight you must seem to him— a drooling, high-strung mess. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way your body shakes at every prod.
All you can do is let out a meager ‘Mmph’, your brain too scrambled to form anything close to words, let alone coherent sentences. “If you use your words, I’ll consider taking the toy out.” Shouta’s ruthless; he knows every inch of your body, your reactions, like the back of his hand. Of course he’d ask you to use your words. He lives to watch you come undone, thrives off the pain etched onto your features.
“Please,” the request is drawn out— paused midway to let loose another gasp— and dripping in desperation. “I can’t– I just-” It’s all you can manage in your state.
“Seems you’ve been fucked stupid,” he chuckles darkly, though the vibrations wracking your cunt finally come to a halt and the dildo is swiftly removed. Your core clenches at the emptiness. “But I haven’t had the chance to stuff this tight little pussy full,” he slaps a harsh palm against your slit, making sure to wipe the slick that now coats his palm all across your cheek. If you weren’t aware of how soaked you were before, Shouta makes damn sure that you do now. The most you can work out in response is a feeble squeak.
One of Shouta’s hands strokes at your matted hair from behind, agile fingers tidying the disheveled strands. The other rubs harsh circles on your clit; you twitch incessantly, sparks running through every inch of your body. “There’s that pained little face I love,” he grabs at your cheeks roughly, forcing your lips into a ‘o’ while grinding into your calf. “Fuck.”
Your legs and arms slump onto the mattress as soon as the cloth is unbound. Every muscle in your body aches with overuse; numbness buzzes through the limbs that were strung together for God knows how long.
Your boyfriend— sadist that he fucking is— thrusts himself into you without warning. Sure, you’ve been stretched by the toy, but your poor slit is so overworked by previous orgasms that even the slightest hint of friction invokes senseless blubbering, your tongue lolling to the side in defeat. Wet, harsh slaps of skin against skin sweep the room, mixed with cries of ‘daddy,’ ‘please,’ and senseless nothings.
“Wanna see you cum.” It’s an order more than a request, grunted into the crook of your neck. His chest flattens against your back. It should feel suffocating, should feel disgusting, considering your body is gleaming with hours worth of perspiration, but you’re enamored with the warmth— engrossed by the way your skin sizzles at his touch. His fingers are secured at your hips, propping your ass in the air and pulling it against him with every piercing thrust.
“N- no, can’t,” cheek still buried into the mattress, you muster whatever strength you have left and grip at his slick bicep behind you. He simply swats your hand away, takes your wrist between his slender fingers, and presses it into the bed. His thumb caresses the marks left by the cloth, savoring the aftermath of the punishment he inflicted.
“You can and you will.” Despite the rasp in his voice, the command still holds authority over your forlorn frame and sends prickles down your spine. You feel yourself, yet again, creeping to the edge of an orgasm. “Cum for me.”
It’s those three, simple words that have you seeing white. Breathless, your brows scrunch together and lips open into a wide ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Your whole body tenses, all senses overwhelmed by this final tidal wave of pleasure, and then finally goes slack.
You’re officially done, body worked to the point of no return. A couple more snaps of his hips and Shouta follows, your name grunted loudly as he spills into you.
For a long time you simply lay together silently, chests heaving with his body still splayed over yours. You know that eventually he’ll roll out of bed and make sure you’re all cleaned up. You always revel in the way he pampers you, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin. If you weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably run a bath as well.
Right now, the heat is finally proving too much for you, so you tap at his hip and he slides himself out of your raw core.
“Ouch,” you wince at the friction, the ability to speak returning to you at last. The whole bottom half of your body is tender. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to sit comfortably for the next few days.
“Surprised you actually behaved,” he chuckles, flipping you over to hold you. His fingers rub lazy circles into your back and he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You were so good for me.”
“Not like you had me tied up or anything,” you poke a finger at his chest. “And to do paperwork at that.”
“Oh,” a slow, smug smile inches across his face, “I didn’t get any work done.” You might just slap him.
“Shouta,” your voice is even, but your eyes pierce his, narrowed in disbelief, “what do you mean you didn’t get any work done?” His laugh rumbles through his chest.
“Do you think I could really focus, hearing your screeching through the walls like that?”
-
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#AIZAWA FUCKERS COME THRU#this took me so long i hated it for the longest#but reading over it now i think it's okay??? lmk#aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#bnha#bnha smut#shouta x reader#shouta aizawa x you#daddy aizawa#sunny writes#bnha fic#mha smut#mha
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supernova, m | kth
pairing(s): taehyung x reader, mentions of seokjin x reader
summary: Kim Taehyung is your best friend. Considering him as anything more was asking for a collapsed relationship. You two were just two points in the sky, side by side, always shining together. Stars aren’t meant to collide, right?
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (m-receiving oral, nipple play, fingering); non-idol!AU; supposed to be crack but, uh, I failed; yes there is a reference to that confused-lady-doing-math meme lol
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You were having the stupidest argument of your life with your best friend.
“Obviously I know how to suck dick!”
Kim Taehyung nearly spit his soda everywhere.
“How the fuck,” he sputtered, coughing. “Would you ever know how to suck dick?”
You rolled your eyes. “Duh, I learned, of course.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows so high that they disappeared into his dark brown bangs. “From who? You kind of need a boyfriend to suck dick.”
“No, you don’t,” you retorted.
Taehyung blinked at you. “I can’t imagine who would let you within ten feet of their dick.”
You threw a pillow at his face. He punched it away as you fumed. “If you must know, I’ve been told I’m good at it.”
Taehyung snorted. He placed his soda farther away from you, afraid it was going to be spilled. “By who? Your delusions?”
“Wow, Tae, seriously?” You puffed your cheeks, glaring at him. “You’re being so mean about this. Don’t pretend you have any experience at all.”
Taehyung frowned at you. “I’ve had experience. What makes you think I haven’t?”
You made a face. “You literally only spend your time at my place or at Jimin’s and you definitely aren’t getting your dick sucked here.” You placed a hand over your eyes, scooting away. “I guess you guys are closer than I thought.”
Now Taehyung picked up the pillow and threw it at you. It bounced off your head.
“Jimin doesn’t suck my dick.”
“I mean, you literally just implied–”
Taehyung pushed you into the plushies on your bed, planting a cat one on your head. “Dumbass, I’ve obviously had other opportunities. I’m not a hermit like you.” He pelted you with a Shiba Inu plush as you struggled. “I actually go outside and socialize.”
You glared at him. “I socialize.”
“You play online games all day,” Taehyung shot back, getting off you. “That’s not socializing.”
“Seokjin-oppa comes over,” you muttered, slinging a turtle at him.
Taehyung caught it in the air. He gave you an odd look. You raised your eyebrows back at him. He slowly lowered his hand, narrowing his eyes.
“You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
“I will call him right now,” Taehyung announced, pulling out his phone.
“No, you will not!” you roared, throwing yourself at him and knocking the phone out of his hand. It bounced on your lavender duvet. You planted your hand on it, halfway in Taehyung’s lap. “Ha!” Your other hand was on Taehyung’s thigh. You felt…
Something.
“What is that.” It wasn’t a question. The words just came out of your mouth automatically.
Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at you. “Wouldn’t you know since you have so much experience with the dick of Kim Seok–”
“Do not say it, Kim Taehyung,” you hissed, prodding him in the chest. “I will shut you up permanently. Also,” you added, hand still on his phone. “You shouldn’t be hard.”
Taehyung snorted. “You’re literally going on and on about sucking dick. Of course, I’m hard, you idiot.”
You pointed a finger at him. “It is not appropriate to get hard in front of your female best friend.”
“It is literally appropriate to get hard when you’re next to someone you think is hot and said person is suggesting they can suck pretty good dick.”
“It is absolutely no–” You cut yourself off this time. “Hold up. What did you just say?”
Taehyung’s deep voice seemed to get even deeper.
“I said, if you can actually suck dick, fucking prove it.”
You pulled your hand back, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not what you said.”
“I’m quite sure of what I said.” His expression was completely blank. The harsh overhead lighting of your bedroom seemed to make his dark eyes even darker.
You pointed an ice cream plush at him. “You also said you can’t imagine who would let me within ten feet of their dick.”
“I mean, I can’t imagine,” he said, shrugging. “But I know who would.”
This did not add up. You sat there, trying to do the math to see if it checked out. Which trigonometry equation would it be? Or algebra? An integral, maybe? Kim Taehyung wasn’t making any sense. He sat there, legs spread, obvious tent in his gray sweatpants, brown t-shirt barely covering it. But… why though? In all the years you’ve known him, Taehyung had never, ever asked to be more than friends. Never. In fact, he teased you all the time about how you never had a boyfriend.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“You’re acting sus.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Are you smooth-brained or what?”
You held your hands up, backing away from him. “All I’m saying is, you’re contradicting yourself.”
Taehyung let out a puff of annoyed air. “I can’t believe you would pick Seokjin-hyung over me.”
You got off the bed to walk over to his soda to drink the rest of it. “He’s good-looking,” you said absentmindedly. “Not that anything specific happened between us or anything.”
“Stop pretending you didn’t fuck him.”
You nearly spit out the soda, coughing. “I only might have suc–”
His eyebrows raised.
“You know what, I don’t have to talk about it. I don’t.”
Taehyung’s mouth thinned to a line. “I’m way more handsome than he is.”
You put the cup down, wondering why you even bothered to drink the rest of that. It was already flat anyway with how heated this conversation was.
“You are handsome, Tae. I just assumed you didn’t want me asking you weird questions like, can I suck your dick?” You shrugged. “Because that would probably make you uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung muttered. “Because I’m clearly comfortable right now with a raging hard-on and you admitting you sucked hyung’s dick.”
You chopped your hands in the air helplessly. “Look, you asked! I answered! What do you want, an apology?”
“An apology of you sucking my dick, yeah.”
You froze. Did he just–? It was the most childish thing you ever heard. Taehyung tucked his tongue in his cheek and glared at you. You were best friends. Best friends! Best friends don’t do that kind of stuff (right?). Best friends don’t think about each other like that (… right?). And you, well, the thing between Seokjin just sort of… happened. And maybe you had exaggerated a little. You weren’t as experienced as Taehyung. Even though you made fun of him, you knew Taehyung had more sexual encounters than you.
The girls around you always ended up gossiping about it.
You really were a hermit – you stayed home and played games, listening to music in your room. There weren’t any chances to do anything with anyone except for the few friends who visited you. And Seokjin was nice, patient. Just as nervous as you, afraid to make it too, er, overwhelming.
“Why… why are you mad?”
Taehyung looked down at the floor, sighing. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head, frowning. “It just pissed me off that you don’t trust me with something as important as that.”
“That’s not…” You paused, fiddling with the bottom of your purple pajama shirt. “If things got weird and Seokjin wasn’t my friend anymore, I would be sad.” His brown eyes slowly found yours as you spoke. “But… if you weren’t my friend anymore…”
You rubbed the back of your neck, not quite looking at him.
“I would be broken.”
He looked away from you too, to the fallen cat plush on the ground.
You chuckled nervously, sighing. “I don’t know if it would work. And I don’t want to ruin something that is already great with something that is just… my lack of confidence in being as cool as you.”
Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and winced. “Cheesy.”
You twitched and picked up the cat plush, chucking it at him. It bounced off his head, making his hair fly everywhere. He didn’t move, staring at you. You hesitated. Ah, you shouldn’t have said anything at all. It should have just stayed a secret between you and Seokjin. But you always ended up telling Taehyung everything, one way or another.
Taehyung patted the spot next to him. You carefully walked over, measuring a very deliberate space between you two before sitting down. He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself.
“You wanna just kiss and see if it’s weird?” he asked suddenly.
“It’s gonna be weird, Tae,” you laughed nervously. “This whole conversation is weird.”
“Hm.” Slowly, slowly, he leaned over and placed his head on your shoulder. You didn’t move away, continuing to stare at your hands. “Eh. It’s fine if it’s weird, I think. All relationships start off weird.”
You snorted. “I don’t think any relationship starts off weirder than you figuring out I blew one of your friends, then getting mad about it, and somehow we–”
He cut you off because he kissed you.
His lips on yours, sweet like cola, that familiar scent you could always associate with him. The scent that lingered on your pillows after he left, the scent that clung to you after the two of you shared a bed, completely platonically. You always thought falling asleep next to Taehyung was comparable to two stars beside each other in the sky, impossibly far away despite being the closest objects in space together.
Nice to sparkle together, but impossible to be together.
Stars colliding made a supernova, which was amazing, but then collapse into a black hole – the part that worried you the most.
And yet.
You pressed back against him, breathing him in. Your hand came up and held the back of his head, not wanting it to end, his soft lips against yours, not even a hint of messy tongue or anything crazy, just his taste. Taehyung mouthed inaudible words against your lips and you pulled back a little, not even realizing how breathless you were.
“Is it…” he muttered, voice so deep it felt like your heart was vibrating. “Weird?”
You nodded. “Yeah.” You chuckled, looking down at your lap. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Ah.” He didn’t move away from you. “Want to do it again?”
Even if it all eventually collapsed into a black hole… What if I live like that? You looked up, right into Kim Taehyung’s eyes, your best friend in the whole world and, even now, you didn’t know if it was going to work out, but, maybe in the off-chance, in the impossible, improbable probability that it did…
You leaned over and kissed him, arm around his neck, pushing him down onto your bed. He smiled into your kiss, his larger hands travelling up to your waist to hold you. Your eyes opened a little, just to see his dark brown hair against your sheets, his tan skin against the lavender color. Lashes so long and dark they made you jealous. He was usually on your bed, but this time was different. This time, he was in your arms like a lover, pulled into your gravity. You softly moaned into his mouth and his tongue slid between your lips, rubbing against yours. You played with it, sucking on it. He moaned back, grip on your waist tightening.
“Tae…”
You breathed against his lips, not wanting to back away too far. He opened his eyes, so heavy with lust you almost forgot what you were going to ask.
“I need you to move up a little,” you said apologetically. “I, uh, I don’t…”
Taehyung laughed. “Sure.”
You didn’t know how to tell him that you basically only learned how to suck dick when the guy lying down. But he didn’t ask, simply scooting up the bed before reaching for you and placing you on top of him. Normally, you scolded him for laying on your plushies, but at this point your mind was somewhere else.
“Better?” he purred, kissing your forehead.
“Y-yeah.” You got onto your hands and knees, nervousness flooding through you. Taehyung reached for your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. You blinked at him.
“You don’t actually have to suck my dick,” Taehyung chuckled. “I mean, if you don’t want to.”
You gave him a confused look. “Isn’t that why you were annoyed in the first place?”
Taehyung puffed his cheeks. “I was annoyed because you fucking sucked Seo–”
You slapped a hand over his mouth. “Not the time.”
He rolled his eyes at you. You kept your hand on his mouth as you slid down, glaring at him until you had to let go to get into position. He watched you with a raised brow. He balanced on his elbows, amused.
“Stop judging me.”
Taehyung grinned. “I’m not judging. Just viewing technique.”
You frowned and pushed his t-shirt out of the way.
“I can take it off.”
“Let me concentrate, you fool.”
Taehyung finally shut up. You kept telling yourself to just take off his pants. It was not that weird. It wasn’t like you hadn’t walked in on him changing before. But you had never seen Taehyung naked and, obviously, had never seen his cock. The tent in front of you was not as big as it was before, but all the girls ever talked about was…
You heard your name being called. You snapped your head up.
“You okay?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head at you.
“Y-yeah.”
“Sounding really confident there.”
You clicked your tongue. “Hmph.”
And you hooked your fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled down. Taehyung lifted his hips to help you and you were nearly smacked in the face with his cock.
“The fuck, Kim Taehyung?” Your eyes went wide as you bunched his pants around his knees. “The FUCK? Kim Taehyung?!”
Taehyung laughed. “What?”
“What?” you echoed, indignant. “Excuse me, sir, you tried to take out my eye with your dick and–” You pointed accusingly at his cock. “Um?”
“That’s not fully hard yet, yeah.”
Alright, it wasn’t like he was some Dragon Dildo cock but, still. You had a pretty small mouth (at least that’s what your dentist told you before he removed all four wisdom teeth, sigh). Taehyung rubbed his chin, sticking his tongue in his cheek.
“That’s why I said you don’t have to do it.”
You stiffened. “I mean… I can do it. I-it’s not like I can’t or anything.”
Taehyung shrugged. “Just don’t bite me.”
“Why the fuck would I bite you?”
“I’m just saying that’s not my kind of kink.”
“Just… shut up for a second.”
You furrowed your brow. It felt strange remembering Seokjin’s words to you now, but those were the only ones you knew. He told you to be gentle at first. You leaned forward, kissing the head softly. It felt warm and velvety against your lips. Just kisses, all up and down the length. You licked Taehyung’s balls lightly, using your hand to hold his cock out of the way. Taehyung’s eyes went wide as you ran your tongue over his balls, softly taking one in your mouth, bouncing it on your tongue.
“A-ah…”
You wrapped your hand around him to hold him in place, swirling your tongue around and around. You looked up at Taehyung. His eyelids were fluttering, groaning as you switched sides.
“F-fuck, normally they just go straight for the dick…”
You pressed your tongue flat and molded him to the crevices of your mouth, making him gasp and grab the sheets as you sucked hard. He made eye contact with you. Lips soft, mouth tight. Plenty of saliva. Slow, slow, popping your lips off.
“Just that was pretty impressive,” Taehyung panted, pulling his shirt up higher. You swallowed, inhaling sharply as you saw more of his torso. His skin was a lovely tan that accented his muscles and his cute bellybutton. You shook your head slightly, trying not to get distracted.
You pressed your lips just under the head, a soft chaste kiss. Your tongue slid out, running over the sensitive skin, saliva dripping down his cock as you looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, moaning hotly.
Seokjin didn’t teach you to do that. You were just enamored with Taehyung’s cock almost in your mouth.
Taehyung breathed your name, low and sensual.
You took him in your mouth, slowly, lifting and lowering your head as you went, lapping against the underside. Fit only what you’re comfortable with. Don’t stress about getting it all in. Lips loose, inside of the mouth tight. You went straight down, using gravity to your advantage. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was getting there, swelling in your mouth as you begun your pace, using his hips as leverage to hold yourself up.
“Right there.”
You paused, repeating your last movement. Rubbing your tongue against the bottom of the head, pressing his cock against the roof of your mouth. Taehyung’s voice was breathy, almost pleading.
“Down.”
You did so, keeping your tongue in place as you slide down, the head against the soft upper part of your throat. Taehyung moaned deliciously, hissing softly.
“F-fuck, that’s so good.”
You repeated the movement, bobbing your head up and down. Slow at first, but building up, gaining confidence. Spit slid down the length, pooling onto his balls.
“Ugh,” Taehyung grunted, clenching the sheets. “Your mouth is soft, but tight. Such a perfect combination.”
You couldn’t exactly respond. He wasn’t fully in your mouth, but you only focused on speed and precision of your pressure, making sure to squeeze the head as it pressed against your lips. You shifted, moving one of your hands to cup his balls, smearing the wetness everywhere. He sucked in a breath, setting his jaw.
“A-ack…”
You decided to try it. A moment of pause and then a slow, slow descent, all the way down. Relax your throat. Front tight, back loose to prevent yourself from gagging. The head hit the back of your throat and your heart jumped. Just a little more. Control. A little lower and your felt your throat tighten around the head. Oh fuck. You couldn’t breathe. But Taehyung was moaning your name so wantonly that you nearly forgot you were almost choking on his dick. You can do it. Slight, sharp ruts of your throat on the tip itself, making Taehyung jerk his head back and cry out in ecstasy.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed, gasping down at you. “You have it all in your mouth.”
He sounded very impressed. You opened your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them, and winked at him. He laughed, shaking his head at you.
You had to pull back a little, conscious of your breathing as you regained sweet oxygen. You didn’t want to sound like you were dying, after all. Taehyung was about to say something, but you started up your fastest pace yet, bouncing up and down, not looking at him as you focused completely on your pressure control.
“A-ah, shit!”
You used both hands to hold yourself up as you bobbed, hyper focused on giving him a raw, wet, tight hole to slide into. For you, this was the easiest because gravity did half the work for you, adding to the speed and cutting half of the stress on your neck, which was occupied with ramming the head down your throat as you tightened your muscles even more, fingertips digging into his skin. You could taste it, the pre-cum leaking into your mouth. Those pathetic, muffled whimpers couldn’t be you, right? You flicked your eyes up to him. Taehyung was watching you, panting hard, pupils blown so wide that his doe eyes looked even bigger.
“Damn, you’re even hotter than I thought,” he choked out, groaning sharply. “I’m close, I don’t know if you want to swallow–”
You dug your nails into his hips, moving even faster, desperate for him to cum in your mouth. He whimpered himself, leaning his head back as a low moan tore from his throat, your name falling out so sweetly and deeply that you felt it in your soul as he came in your mouth, flooding it. You pulled back a little to give it space to collect as you swallowed, his cock jerking in your mouth. Three gulps and there was still a little left. You swept it with your tongue and Taehyung shivered under you as you swallowed that too, lingering. Your tongue gently coated him. You pulled back, centimeter by slow centimeter, teasing the tip with the end of your tongue. Taehyung whispered at the sensitivity, but you pressed your lips against the head, soft pressure at the very end until the tip popped out.
“Could you just…” Taehyung panted, one eye closing as he struggled to catch his breath. “Not be good at that?”
You grinned, straightening. “Oh? I did good?”
Taehyung gritted his teeth. “I have never thought a blowjob could be comparable to pussy until just now, holy fuck.”
You rubbed your jaw in a startlingly similar manner to his habit. “Think I’m gonna be sore.”
Taehyung gestured down to his cock, who was rapidly falling asleep. “You killed him. How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you now?”
You shrugged. “I like other things too.”
“I’m listening.”
You scratched your head. Shit. You haven’t actually expected Taehyung to want to reciprocate. It wasn’t that what you wanted was strange, but it felt embarrassing to ask him, because it was something you learned about yourself with someone else. Taehyung’s eyes were boring holes into you. He was silently commanding you to tell him right now or else.
“I have to make you cum,” he said softly. “Tell me how.”
A shiver ran through you. Your eyes shifted down to his hands and he lifted them from the bed, observing you curiously. His lips curled into a wide smirk. You glared at him and pulled your pajama shirt over your head so you didn’t have to look at his smug face. You straddled his legs, pulling yourself up to him. You were still wearing your underwear. You reached into the cups of your bra and pulled your breasts out right in front of his face. The bra still on your body pushed them together so your nipples stuck straight out. Taehyung licked his lips.
“A meal? For me?”
You puffed your cheeks and took the back of his head, pushing him towards your nipple.
“Lick.”
His brown orbs became mischievous. His pink tongue darted out, flicking your nipple. You sucked in a breath and grabbed one of his hands, pressing his middle finger on your other nipple, rubbing it in slow circles. Taehyung got the hint, licking one of your nipples as he played with the other with his fingers.
“Pinching?” he mumbled.
“Y-yeah…”
He pinched you lightly. You yelped, fingers tangling in his hair. Lightly constrained in your clothes, your nipples being played with. One more step. You reached down for his free hand and dragged it up your thigh, moaning as his knuckle brushed against your soaking wetness.
“Ah,” he purred, vibrating your nipple with his voice. “You like a triple assault.”
“Tae, just fucking finger me.”
He chuckled deeply, rubbing you though your panties. They sank into your folds. Your clit throbbed with need, desperate for attention as he rubbed the slopping wet fabric against it.
“I will,” he drawled, staring up at you. He rubbed harder, keeping pace with your nipple. “How many?”
“I-I don’t think you can fit more than two,” you gasped, grinding against his hand.
“Okay,” he purred, hooking a finger around your panties. Strings of your juices clung to his hand as he pulled the fabric to the side. “One first.”
You felt him slowly slide his finger into you, his lips pressed against your nipple as he did so, his eyes closing. Your breathing became shallow, pleasure snaking upwards.
“Oh, fuck, you’re so tight,” Taehyung breathed, licking your nipple in between his words. “So fucking wet.”
You clutched his head tighter as he pushed in and out of you, curling it slightly. You chopped his neck feebly.
“N-no, straight.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows, but complied, straightening his finger and thrusting it into you. Oh, yes. You clenched around him, shoving your tits into his face as you wiggled your hips on his hand.
“Need m-more, Tae…”
He rolled his tongue around your nipple and sucked it hard, shoving another finger into you at the same time, making your cry out and squirm. You gripped the hand on your nipple, encouraging him.
“I got you, love.”
Your heart skipped two beats. And then he began to really finger-fuck you, driving them into you hard and fast, pinching your nipple and sucking on the other. Pleasure shot throughout your entire being, so drunk with lust that you leaned into it, spreading your legs to give Taehyung more space to move his arm, fuck you harder.
“Taehyung, oh, fuck, Tae...”
You felt eyes on you and you looked down, seeing Taehyung’s sharp brown orbs watching you, brows furrowed as you bucked on his hand, detaching his mouth as he whispers hotly into your chest.
“Fuck, I want to fuck your pussy so fucking bad,” he growled.
His eyes were so dark that you felt like you were falling into space, into his gravity, trapped. He pounded you his fingers into you harder, pinching and twisting your nipple. You were ready to fall apart, gasping and moaning so much that your throat was dry.
“Can you take one more?”
“I-I don’t know…” you whimpered. “So f-full…”
He chuckled. “I have a big dick, remember?”
Your teeth sank into your lower lip. “O-okay, do it.”
Slow, slow. His third finger buried itself into you and you squeezed your eyes shut, gasping as you felt him began pace again. Your nipples were extra sensitive now, making your body shiver as he touched them again. Just a little more…
“Tae,” you gasped, “Go as hard and fast as you can.”
“You sure?” Even just the feeling of his lips brushing against your nipple had you trembling.
“Yes, do it.”
He wrapped his lips around your nipple before ramming his fingers into you, tearing a plea of his name from your throat as he fingered you roughly, almost like a fucking vibrator. Oh, fuck. If Seokjin was in the back of your mind, he quickly vanished as Taehyung pounded you, forcing you to take it all, spreading you out as you saw stars in your peripheral vision. He didn’t hold back and you didn’t want him to, squeezing his fingers as they entered you, pressing his head down on your breasts. Everything tightened inside you, so close to the edge that you could smell your juices dripping onto his lap.
“Tae, fuck, I’m so fucking close, a-ah…”
He sucked on your nipple, hard, pinching and twisting the other and it pushed you over, crying out as everything snapped suddenly, pleasure racking through your entire body as your pussy throbbed around his hand. You nearly sank down, Taehyung’s hands the only things keeping you up as you buried your face in his hair, gasping for air.
“Careful,” Taehyung murmured, pulling his fingers out, sticky and covered in your juices. He looked at his fingers for a moment before shoving them in his mouth.
“T-Tae!”
He made eye contact with you as he licked them off slowly and purposefully, moaning lustfully around them. Your pussy throbbed with need at the sight of his pink tongue slurping up the glistening liquid.
“Mmm, delicious.”
You felt your ears turn red and you climbed off him, righting your underwear before flopping onto the bed. Taehyung laid down next to you, pulling up his pants.
“Give me a couple hours and I’ll rail you with my dick.”
“Wow, that’s so romantic.”
Then came the awkward moment. The one where you stared at your pillows and squashed plushies, realizing what you had just done, realizing that you couldn’t turn back now. The stars had collided. Now what? The black hole? You didn’t look at Taehyung. You couldn’t.
He said you name, softly.
“Yeah?”
“I wasn’t being serious. You’re a virgin, right?”
You shifted your eyes. “Erm…”
“Ah.”
Silence.
“I’m gonna kill Seokjin-hyung.”
“No, Tae–”
--
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#taehyung x reader#taehyung smut#kim taehyung x reader#kim taehyung smut#bts smut#taehyung x you#kim taehyung x you#v x reader#v x you#v smut
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DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu [Track 2]
Original title: 遠のく心
Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu
Audio: Here
Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke
Translator’s note: O O F. Shuu is being rather harsh in this, it’s hurting my heart. While I do understand that having someone continuously meddle with your affairs can be annoying, I do wish he was just a little nicer to the MC because she honestly deserves better than to be treated like a walking bloodbag. >( Hopefully he’ll redeem himself in the following tracks.
Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue
→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!
Track 2: Distancing Hearts
You enter the classroom.
*Rattle*
“...I knew it’d be you.”
You frown.
“Approaching me even at school...You really never learn, do you?”
You ask him what he was up to.
“I considered taking a nap but I had a hunch you would show up sooner or later, so I stayed awake, knowing there’s nothing more frustrating than having you interrupt me right as I get to the best part. I bet you came because one of the teachers asked you?”
You flinch.
“Pretty much spot on, huh? Reiji at home and the teachers at school. Are you really obedient to just about anyone? In that case, why not listen to me as well when I tell you to stop meddling with my affairs?”
You try and explain yourself.
“...Annoying. What will I gain from attending class? Not only is it dull, but I’ll only grow even more sleepy.”
You beg him to return to his classroom.
“I’m not going back. I’m going to take a nap here. If you get what I’m saying, then don’t get in my way.”
You nod.
“...You’re giving up surprisingly quick today. Are you feeling under the weather?”
You shake your head.
“I don’t really care, but it’d be really nice if you could always be like that. It’d save me a lot of trouble.”
You protest.
“Stop refusing everything. Just leave already. ...Pwaah...Guess I’ll have to start over again from track one.”
*Beep beep*
You leave.
*TIMESKIP*
“Nn...Zz...Nn...Hm?”
*Rustle*
“Oh...Classes are over, huh? Nnh...”
*Rustle rustle*
“Ah? Something fell down...”
*Rustle*
“This...Her blazer? She knows Vampires don’t catch colds, doesn’t she? She really loves meddling with my affairs, huh? I don’t want to return to the classroom with this thing, so guess I’ll hit up the infirmary instead. There’s beds over there as well. ...Pwaaah...”
Shuu gets up and goes towards the nurse’s office.
*Rattle*
“...Ugh. All the beds are taken? ...Hm? This scent...”
He looks around.
“This one, huh?”
Shuu approaches one of the beds and moves the curtain aside.
*Rustle*
“Haah...Just like I thought, there she is. Does she really always have to be at the same place as me? Hm...Guess I can lie down here then.”
He joins you in the bed.
*Tick tock tick tock tick tock*
“Nnh....Zzz...”
You wake up.
“Zz...”
You call out for him.
“Nnh...Shut up...Don’t shout...It echoes inside my head...”
You ask him what he is doing here.
“What do you mean? I’m sleeping. All beds were taken when I first came here, and you were resting in one of them. So I decided to lie down here as well. That’s all.”
You complain.
“Pwaah...I’m surprised you can make such a fuss right after waking up. ーー Or rather, what have you been so flustered about this whole time?”
You try and explain.
“What do you mean ‘not here’?”
You get even more flustered.
“Haha…You’re like an open book. It’s not like I’m sucking your blood or anything. We’re just lying down so don’t exaggerate.”
You complain.
“…’Bad’, you say? Something which would be bad if others were to see us…”
*Rustle*
“…Would refer to this, no?”
*Rustle rustle*
“Oi…Don’t throw a fit…Have you forgetten? There’s someone resting on the bed next to ours.”
You flinch.
“I told you all the beds were taken, remember? That’s why I had no other choice but to lie down on this one as well. Unless they left at some point, they should still be there. They might even be listening in, curious as to what is going on over here. …The teacher wasn’t around when I got here… (whispers) but he might have just returned by now as well.”
You stop fighting back, going quiet.
“Heh...You immediately calmed down. Just how easy are you? You pretend to be troubled by my actions, but deep down you just love this, don’t you? The scent of your blood...See? It has gotten richer. That proves you’ve gotten worked up. Did you really believe you could still hide that from me? Unfortunately, things did not go your way.”
You seem confused.
“Nobody has taken notice of us despite the fuss you made earlier so it’s quite obvious we’re the only ones here, no? Too bad~
You get upset.
“I said they ‘might’ be here, remember? Not my fault that you decided to twist my words. Or what? Would you have preferred for them to be around?”
You pout.
“Don’t get upset over something so small. It’s annoying.”
You get up from the bed.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
You explain.
“Haah...? You’re really gonna bother going back when the bell will ring in just a few minutes? …Don’t be ridiculous.”
*Rustle*
“…Why not stay here a little longer?”
*Rustle*
“Ugh…Don’t move. Unlike our bed at home, it’s cramped here. If we stay like this, I’m pretty sure you’ll calm down a little as well, no? I don’t mind sucking your blood to ensure you behave either, but I’m feeling exhausted after teasing you. I’m gonna sleep.”
You ask him if he intends to sleep while embracing you.
“Yes, like this. There’s nobody around so what’s the big problem? …Huh? For some reason, you feel different in my arms compared to usual…? Like you somehow seem…harder or…thinner? Were you always like this? Haah…Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. Mm…”
*Rustle*
“Nn...What? I was just about to fall asleep.”
*Rustle*
“...Oi! Don’t get up all of a sudden!”
You frown.
“What do you mean, ‘this whole time’...?”
You try and explain.
“Haah...? ‘A bother’? Are you referring to what happened in the music classroom, perhaps? Did you take that to heart?”
You avert your gaze.
“Ahー You want to complain because I’m actually trying to keep you by my side now even though I always talk as if you’re nothing but a bother to me, huh? You get upset when I give you the cold shoulder, yet complain about thecopposite scenario as well? ...Haah...That’s exactly what makes you so troublesome to deal with at times...I feel like it’s a waste to even ask this, but you won’t say you’re dissatisfied with the way I treat you, right? If you believe I’ll treasure you because you’re trying your hardest for me, you’re not being funny.”
You frown.
“What? If there’s something you want to say to me, then spit it out.”
You tell Shuu that you just want to know what you mean to him.
“Will you finally be satisfied if I tell you?”
You nod.
“...Close your eyes.”
You hesitant.
“You want to know what you mean to me, right? ...I’ll teach you, so close those eyes.”
You close your eyes.
“What you mean to me, huh?”
Shuu suddenly bites you.
“Mmh...Nn...”
*Gulp*
“Nnh...Why are you so surprised? I’m a Vampire and you’re a woman with exquisite blood. What else did you expect me to do? If you were still expecting anything else at this point, there’s something wrong with your head. Nn...Mmh...”
*Sluuurp*
“Hah...But your blood doesn’t taste that good today. It had a strong fragrance, but it’s not sweet.”
You admit to not feeling all that great.
“Ah...I thought you were acting kind of off, but there’s actually something wrong with you, isn’t there? I didn’t realize because I’ve only ever come to the infirmary to skip class. ...Oh. Does that mean you lend me your blazer even though you were already feeling under the weather yourself? Haah...”
*Rustle*
“I’ve had enough. It’s not even good. ...Having to deal with you tired me out.”
Shuu gets up and leaves.
*Rattle*
“...Che. I actually had such a nice nap as well, then everything went to shit right after waking up.”
He walks through the hallway.
“There’s no point in expecting or wishing anything from me...Why doesn’t she get that already?”
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
#diabolik lovers#dialovers#shuu sakamaki#diabolik lovers daylight#diabolik lovers translation#diabolik lovers drama cd#drama cd
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afk (three-word combos) 🎮
itaru chigasaki/reader
one shot
word count: 1597
also on AO3!
Summary: You wonder if now’s the best time to tell Itaru something important. Unfortunately, it looks like he won’t stop gaming any time soon. That’s what you think, at least.
○○○
This isn’t the funniest way to wake up.
Blast sound effects from Itaru’s game resound in your room. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you approach his desk. His screen’s brightness is way too high, and you shield yourself from it with an arm.
“Itaru… what time is it?”
Itaru jolts in his seat. you assume your voice woke him from focusing on the game. He whips his head around, looking for the source. Surprisingly, his eyes light up upon seeing your face. You’ve heard about him snapping at others interrupting his games, something he’d been working on.
"Well. It’s not a good time to be awake, that’s for sure.” He bounces his leg on his swivel chair.
A look at his computer clock says it’s two in the morning.
Itaru runs a hand through his hair when his eyebrows raise.
“Did I wake you up? Sorry about that.”
You nod, stepping forward to pat his shoulder.
“It’s alright.”
Itaru clenches his jaw. “You should get back to bed.”
“Yeah, but you’re not there with me,” you yawn.
He grins. “One more level?”
Hearing that, you let out a small sigh. “Okay.”
“Yes! ”
He squeezes your wrist and gets back to his computer.
“Just give me a minute.”
You wait a bit, but he doesn’t say anything else.
You turn back to your bed and get settled in the blankets, still cool from the air conditioning. Lying down, your pillow is pleasant against your head, but the dip in your shared mattress is another reminder that Itaru’s still busy. Tracing shapes with your leg, you place your hands on your stomach, thinking.
Today, you wanted to tell him you loved him.
You’d been together for a while now. You took the time to see his plays, encouraging him to pursue something he liked, even getting him pizza to tell him he’d done a great job. He made sure to be around for your hobbies and meet your friends. Eventually, he introduced you to his company. You enjoyed their presence— they liked you too, judging by how they practically jumped you and blurted out questions, some questions making Itaru blush until his neck, telling them to knock it off.
Laughing gently at the memory, you figured now was the right time to tell him. He just needed to be within reach. You’re not sure when that would happen though, at least right now.
You hear the click of Itaru closing his computer for the night (was it even night anymore?)
“Finished.”
You let out a “hmph” and turn in the other direction, smirking. Unfortunately, he foils your efforts to sneak away, plopping himself on the bed. He hugs a pillow and sighs.
“(Name), have you considered getting a body pillow for us?”
You snicker. “Why? Am I not enough of a pillow for you?”
It’s his turn to be quiet, and you assume he’s blushing.
“Aww. Is it too late in the day for banter?”
He retaliates by moving near your back, tickling your side. Itaru laughs when you shout in shock.
“Hm, guess not.”
Now, you’re having fun, but thoughts of confessing still remain in your mind.
“You’re quiet again,” Itaru whispers, his knees knocking against your legs.
“And I know you’re not asleep.” He pauses. “Is something wrong?”
You open your mouth to answer, but he cuts in.
“Okay, I’m going to make a promise so epic there’s no way you can refuse. How about I don’t go near my computer for the time being?”
You shift your arm down, covering yourself in thicker blankets and ignoring Itaru’s tugs on them.
"Who’s to say you’re not going to play again later?”
He snuggles his nose at your nape. “Promise I won’t?”
You snort and Itaru chuckles.
“Next stream’s scheduled for tomorrow. I’m free all night. Remember, (Name), that flexibility is one of my many attributes.”
“Uh huh.”
You look around the room. Only the monitors’ light cuts through the darkness, but you see Itaru’s form as he toys with your hair.
You feel him smile against your shirt.
“Here’s an idea.”
He must tell that you’re squinting at this, so he tries another tactic.
"Player two,” Itaru coos, his breath tickling your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist.
“Take a break with me.”
You budge a bit, letting him under the covers.
“I’m listening.”
“Let’s play a game.”
You groan, Itaru relishing in that and lacing your fingers together.
“No gadgets, I swear,” he laughs.
“Itaru, keep this up and…”
He slips a leg under your calf.
“Does that mean you won’t help me with my pulls anymore?”
You laugh. “Depends on how fun your game is.”
He makes a face. “Alright. Game start.”
He projects his voice, like he’s on stage, and you laugh at that.
“Would you rather… watch me play for hours, or play with me?”
“You already know the answer to that. I’ve done both dozens of times, remember?”
“Hm. Point.” Itaru pouts.
Your turn to ask. “Would you rather not lay a finger on your phone for a day, or eat week-old pizza? From your… second favorite pizza place?”
He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think.
“Not lay a finger on my phone, for sure.”
You try hiding the amusement coloring your voice.
“Hm? Didn’t expect that from you, Itaru. Week-old pizza doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Hear me out. If you think about it, I can lay a toe on my phone. You just said no fingers.”
You turn around to slap his shoulder, making him chuckle.
You exchange questions for a few more minutes until Itaru sits up.
“Just remembered something,” he says as you sit up with him.
He gets out of bed again, and you’re about to pout until you realize he’s reaching for something under the mattress.
To your confusion, he takes out a box about the length of his arm.
He smirks. “Check this out.”
He removes the cover, and you peer inside.
In the box sits a lava lamp. Itaru lifts it out, placing it on your bedside table, his hold on its weight suggesting its quality. As it's switched on, you realize that the lamp’s bubbles are shaped like hearts in different sizes.
You gasp. Looking at Itaru, you realize that he’s smiling wide.
“Corny, right?”
You shake your head in a “no.”
“Listen,” he starts, taking your hand. You swallow, unsure of where this was going.
“I’m sorry for not spending more time with you. There’s an event right now, and I’m working harder on it than I’d like to. I spent too much on the last event, so now I’m getting my butt kicked.”
You smile and you can’t stop.
“My point is,” Itaru plays with your hand, assuming it’s not the time to explain his strategies, “I got this so you could remember how I felt.”
He scratches the back of his head. “I hope there’s no hard feelings.”
“No, no. Thank you, Itaru.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. All this talk about feelings is starting to make you feel choked up. Was this your chance to tell him?
You opt to kiss his cheek and he chuckles. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing, but it’s a bit too dark to tell.
“Ah, this is my favorite feature,” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around you.
He uses his other arm to press a button on the lamp. You didn’t notice it initially.
“Oh, I…”
As the lamp changes colors, it softly plays a few musical notes. Listening closely, you start to realize that the notes sound familiar.
“Yup, it’s exactly what you think it is.” Itaru chuckles to himself.
“It’s the soundtrack from that game you really like. Got the music box built in, custom-made and everything.”
Your eyes widen in disbelief, while Itaru smiles and checks for more reactions.
“Itaru!”
He smiles even wider, eyes twinkling.
“What do you think?”
You lean on him a little more. “I love it.”
He hums quietly, closing his eyes, laying his head back down on the bed. He gestures for you to go with him, and you follow suit, your head nestled in the crook of his arm.
“That’s all I wanted to hear.”
You lay there for the night in a comfy silence, growing heavy-eyed from the lamp’s music. A few minutes in, you muster up the courage to say it.
Placing your arm around his chest, you pull yourself closer and nudge your face by his side.
“Love you,” you whisper quickly, barely hearing it yourself.
Your room is cool and quiet.
Itaru’s chest softly rises and falls, and you assume he’s fallen asleep. Weird. He’s usually the later sleeper between the two of you, if he even sleeps at all. You turn your gaze down for the most part, accepting you’ll have to try again in the morning.
You wait to look up at Itaru’s face: his lashes lift in the dim light. His eyes meet yours and you suck in a breath.
His eyes are wide, and you assume he finally heard you. You start to shift your body away, but you hear him laugh softly, turning you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to frown but getting betrayed by your blush.
Itaru places a hand on the small of your back, linking his legs with yours as you both fall drowsy. There’s a soft look to his eyes as he beams at you, moving to kiss the top of your head.
“I love you too.”
#a3 fanfiction#itaru chigasaki#chigasaki itaru#itaru x reader#a3! itaru#a3! fanfic#a3! act! addict! actors!#hihiwrites#quiche is ready
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You’re Such a Heavenly View
Ship: Logince (Logan x Roman)
Word Count: ~1440
Trigger Warnings: None that I can think of!
Synopsis: Logan loves the night sky, and Roman loves to see his fiancé happy. A stargazing date ensues.
Author’s Note: Woo, my first fic! This is just a quick lil oneshot, but I have a ton of other wips too! I hope you enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated if possible! :)
***
“There are no stars in the city.”
Roman glanced up from his laptop. Logan was standing by the open window, elbows resting on the windowsill. A cacophony of sounds drifted in from the streets below, taxi drivers laying on their horns and trains screeching to a halt, faint saxophone music from a street musician somewhere far below and the drip-drip-drip of rainwater on their fire escape.
Logan wasn’t looking at him—his gaze was focused on the sky, a wistful expression on his face.
“What?” Roman asked, setting his laptop aside on the couch.
“Hm?” Logan looked over at him, perplexed—before realizing that he must have said the first bit out loud. “Oh,” he said, cheeks pinking, before belatedly angling his face towards the night sky again. “Just. There are no stars in the city. Well—there are, of course, they just aren’t visible due to the amount of light pollution.”
Roman considered this for a moment, then came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. In the back of his mind, he marveled at the ease of it all—that he could hold Logan, and instead of pulling away, he would instinctively lean into him, as naturally as though Roman’s arms were a warm bed at the end of a long day. It didn’t matter that they had been together for six years, and had been engaged for eight months—Roman doubted that the novelty would ever wear off.
But that wasn’t the matter at hand—and, for a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, staring out at the streets of San Francisco below them. The evening was warm, and the gentle breeze that lifted Roman’s hair smelled of spring rain and dumplings, as there was a Chinese restaurant right next to their apartment building. Roman felt as though he could stay like that forever—holding his fiancé, watching the ever-changing cityscape, and listening to the sounds of all of the lives taking place around them. But Roman could see the longing in Logan’s face, as subtle as it was; Logan had always loved the night sky, had studied and charted it with a sparkling passion. He adored their life in the city, of course—they were both akin to people-watching, and he found comfort in being just another face in a crowd, but Roman knew that a small part of Logan yearned for the sky and its wonders.
So Roman quickly kissed his jawline, let go of Logan, and said, “Then let’s go see some stars.”
Logan looked at him quizzically. “We live in the middle of a city, Roman. It’s highly improbable that there are any good places for stargazing nearby.”
Roman shrugged, already by the door, pulling on a knit cardigan. “Are you coming or not?”
Logan hovered by the window, mouth slightly ajar and brows knit together. Roman knew that his fiancé wasn’t one for spontaneity, but Roman himself was, and Logan never seemed to mind. Especially not when the spontaneous plan in question involved a stargazing date.
And so, after a moment, Logan joined him by the door, shrugging on his own light jacket—after all, April nights are fickle, weather-wise—and muttering something about how there were still dishes waiting to be washed, piled high in the sink.
He stopped his fussing when Roman looped their fingers together, though, lapsing into silence and staring down at their joined hands. If somebody didn’t know Logan, they would likely misinterpret his expression as apathy, indifference—but Roman did know Logan, and was intimately familiar with his facial patterns. He recognized the way that the seemingly ever-present crease between his brows faded, the way it does when he finds something particularly captivating, and he noticed the way his lips parted ever so slightly—as if the thing that has captured his attention has bewitched him so thoroughly he forgot to close his mouth.
No, Roman knew that face, and recognized it for what it was—wonder. Familiarity. Fondness.
It was enough to make Roman surge up and press a brief kiss to his lips, pulling back before Logan even had time to register it, then squeezing his hand and leading him out the door.
Admittedly, it had taken longer than Roman had anticipated to find a place suitable for stargazing. Despite Logan’s warning, he had assumed that there would be someplace close by that would do the trick, but every place he found he deemed completely unacceptable for a date.
Curse Roman and his romantic sensibilities.
They had been driving for over an hour now—the stars were certainly visible at this point, but Roman had insisted on not stopping until he had found the perfect location.
Logan had dozed off in the passenger's seat, snoring lightly. The only sounds in the car for a while were the soft crooning of Frank Sinatra singing “Fly Me to the Moon” on the radio (since Logan was asleep, Roman had no qualms about putting it on), and Logan’s snores.
He heard Logan shift a bit when the car finally slowed to a stop.
“Lo,” he said, gently nudging him. His fiancé stirred again, opening his eyes and looking at Roman blearily, as if his brain was slowly turning back on. Roman smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Hey there, Lo,” he continued, softly rubbing his shoulder. “We’re here.”
Logan blinked at him, once, twice, his sleepy brain clearly trying to remember where it was that they were headed. And all of a sudden, it was as though somebody had flicked the lights on inside Logan’s head, and he leaned forward to peer up through the windshield.
“Where are we?” He asked without looking at Roman, too focused on the sky above. Roman laced their fingers together and kissed the back of Logan’s hand.
“Let’s go and see.” And with that, he released Logan’s hand and opened the car door.
Roman had parked the car on the side of a mountain; the world looked wide open from all the way up here, as if somebody had taken the lid off. The air smelled fresh from spring rain, all the world recently washed clean. Lush mountains rose up all around them, brilliant greens and blues even in the dark.
And there were stars, so many stars.
Logan gaped, head tipped back to marvel at it all. Roman beamed, spreading his arms wide, gesturing to all of it. “Well?”
And Logan looked at him, mouth ajar, eyes wide, and for a moment, the only sounds around them were the faint chittering of insects, distant birdsong, and the rustling of trees.
And then Logan surged forward and kissed him, cupping either side of his face. Roman startled for just a moment, but then he melted into it, one hand gently resting at the nape of Logan’s neck, the other on his cheek. Roman adored it when Logan was like this; usually a stoic pillar, cold and aloof to the rest of the world, but for Roman, just for Roman, he opened up, all light and warmth and love.
And Roman didn’t think he’d ever be able to get over that.
Logan pulled away, wide grey eyes staring at him in wonder. “It’s...wonderful,” he said, eyes drifting to the tree-covered mountaintops, up to the wide open sky filled with stars, and back to Roman. Logan’s face was filled with pure adoration, and Roman’s heart did a flip in his chest because that look was directed at him. “Thank you, Roman.”
Roman laced their fingers together, rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. “Of course, Starlight.”
And Logan smiled, and Roman’s heart soared, because he did that, he made Logan Winters smile, and oh god, he was so gone for this man.
A moment later, Roman retreated to the car, opening the back door and pulling out a blanket and some pillows.
And minutes later, they were on the roof of the car, curled up against each other, a blanket below them and a sky full of stars above them, and Logan softly pointed out every constellation in the sky.
Logan marveled at the stars, and Roman marveled at Logan.
And they ate the pizza that Roman had picked up on the way, half olives for Logan, half pepperoni for Roman, and Logan laughed at a joke that Roman had made, and Roman asked him questions about space, and the stars twinkled down at them from high, high above.
And at the end, they put their blankets and pillows back into the backseat and piled back into the car, and Logan leaned over the stick shift and kissed Roman again, and Roman smiled, and they began their drive back home.
#my writing#sanders sides#logince#logan sanders#roman sanders#sanders sides fic#ts sides#thomas sanders
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I had this idea and- Tony and Peter in the lab working together when suddenly Peter gets a call and it’s Ned just talking about LEGO stuff so Peter puts him on speaker. Thing is, Ned has no idea he is with Tony because Peter didn’t address it so he suddenly says “So how’s it going with your Iron Daddy crush?” Or something like that and Peter and Tony look at eachother absolutely SHOCKED
I spent a solid ten minutes wholly entertained by this idea and cycling through all the reactions Peter could have. I hope I did you proud on this one, Non! Thank you so much for considering me ❤️
No triggers/warnings. SFW
Working with Tony was fast becoming one of Peter's favourite things to do. It was even better than building LEGO sets or patrolling the streets, and that was saying something. He lived for the long hours spent in the lab, working alongside or merely coexisting with Tony as they worked, playlists cycling through in the background. It was calming, it felt right.
If he were to hazard a guess, he would say Tony enjoyed it too. He obviously didn’t have much evidence to compare to how Tony had been in the lab prior to his arrival, but these days Tony sang along to the music and talked to Peter about their projects and ordered too much takeout even for the two of them and sometimes, even fell asleep against the workbench after too many long hours.
It was one such night when they were working together; each on their individual projects but bouncing information and ideas between them. Peter was working on adding a small-scale explosive to his web mechanism for things like blowing up concrete or doors and Tony was working on what looked like part of the suit, but could frankly be anything at this point. Peter had once asked him how working on the Gauntlet was going only to be informed it was a vase. A mechanical vase, no less.
“Diamond laser, diamond laser…” Tony muttered, petting about the bench. Peter picked up the tool laying on his own bench.
“Here,” he called, tossing it over. Tony caught it, offered him a brief, warm smile, and dove back into his work. Time passed quietly, until he heard a soft mutter of oh, that’s not good and then-
“Duck!”
Wordlessly Peter dropped down, tucking himself under the safety of his bench as there was a hiss, a clang, and a piece of metal flew over where he’d just been standing, ricocheting off the wall before it clattered to the floor. He righted himself, peered at it curiously, then went back to his own work. Mishaps in the lab were far too common to make a fuss of.
It fell back into a lull, working in tandem and comfortable silence until Peter’s phone rang on the table besides him. He paused, nose crinkling. Aunt May wasn’t expecting him to be home tonight, so that left…
“Hey, Ned,” he greeted as he swiped the call, lifting it to his ear. There was a scuffle and a huff on the other end of the line and he waited patiently as Ned got himself set.
“Dude! Have you seen the new LEGO Avengers set? You gotta get one. It’s got everyone! Well, except you, but technically you’re not an official Avenger yet-”
“Gee, thanks for reminding me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with a coil one-handed. Ned continued to speak, rattling off the pieces, the details and resolutely demanding they went the moment the store opened tomorrow to get the set. Peter hummed along in agreement, interjecting here and there to demand details.
“Oh, I thought about what we could do for our science project, too!” Ned began, and Peter huffed in irritation as he tried and failed to connect a wire with just one hand. Tony more or less comfortably forgotten in the background, he shuffled his phone down onto the desk and tapped the speaker icon, picking up his tools once Ned’s voice filled the room.
“So I was thinking, right? And I was thinking; hey! Peter has access to all this stuff now! And I know we can’t do anything too dramatic because we’re still losers, but what if we use…” Peter listened intently, tongue sticking out as he focused on screwing on the pressure plate. Ned’s idea actually wasn’t all that bad - Taking inspiration from the web shooters to make a spray-able temporary hole/crack fix.
It was nothing Peter hadn’t already made, so it ought to be easy enough. It was easy to listen along and work; both motions equally soothing. Tony said nothing in the background, engrossed in his own tinkering and content to let their conversation be background noise.
"Oh, and hey! How's the whole thing with Mr. Stark going?" Ned asked on the tail-end of a ramble about how Peter could use the web formula to start his own business and make billions. Peter opened his mouth to explain their current projects, temporarily forgetting that he hadn't actually told Ned he was at the Tower right now.
"Or should I say Iron Daddy now? Was that just a one time thing? Its so weird saying that, though. Just get his Iron Rod already so we don't have to keep-"
Peter froze, staring at the phone in movie-comical horror. Across the lab there was a deafening clang and a curse as Tony jerked upright and knocked his head on Butterfinger's mainframe, dropping the diamond laser to the table.
"-Like just go right up to him and say 'I want you to be my Iron Daddy,' like how hard can it be? You could tell him about your old fan account, I bet he'd be flattered. I bet he'd even-"
Peter made a high distressed sound, flailing on the spot. His mind screamed SHUT UP NED SHUTUP HE'SHERERIGHTHERE SHUT UP but his throat wouldn't work to get the words out. On the other bench Tony looked vaguely like the arc reactor had glitched, eyes more white than iris as he gripped at the edge of the table.
Panic rose like a tidal wave and Peter gave a strangled sound, operating on pure fear and horror as he raised his palm and pressed the trigger on the web shooters. The StarkPhone went up in a spectacular display of sparks and flying metal, Ned's voice cutting off abruptly.
Dully, Peter thought huh, it works. As the last pathetic sparks fizzled to the ground Peter turned his head, staring meekly somewhere near Tony's shoulder.
"Sorry. That was... Your phone," he excused lamely, belatedly noting he no longer had his chappy old IPhone but Stark Industries' latest, sleekest model courtesy of Tony.
“Technically it was yours,” Tony replied back rather dazedly, leaning heavily against the bench. An awkward silence fell over them for several seconds, before Tony’s expression twisted.
“Iron Daddy?”
Peter made a sound between a groan and a whine and collapsed against his own bench next to the smoking remains of his phone. “Oh my god. I was a meme. I sent him a meme one time.”
“And my Iron Rod is…?”
“Mr. Stark, I am begging you to stop talking.”
There was a terse pause where Peter awaited morosely to be told to leave; to be dropped outside his apartment again with a bye, c’ya, don’t call. And then -
“Do you?” Tony’s voice sounded... Small. Peter looked up quizzically, brows furrowing as he watched Tony rub at his arm. It was a tic - an emotional tell. “Want me to be your Iron Daddy?”
Peter almost groaned. Might’ve, if the meaning behind the words hadn’t rendered him incapable of anything other than surprise.
“I’d... Always thought it would be more a boyfriend thing,” he admitted. His crush had never been a secret but had always been swept under the rug as idolism and hero worship, never taken seriously. It had only been in his dreams and fantasies that Tony had ever reciprocated the feelings or taken his compliments to heart.
“Hm.” It was a flat response, thoughtful and veiling any true emotion as Tony moved to rub at his jaw, then turned away. “I’ll get you a new phone. FRI has all your data on back-up, so you won’t have lost anything.”
Peter’s heart sank a little and he took the unspoken rejection graciously, lowered his head with a short nod. He willed himself to be mature about it, sweeping away the remains of his old phone into the waste disposal and thanking the older man in a small, fragile voice when he was handed a sleek new device.
Tony had turned it on whilst he brought it over and it cycled through an installation before vibrating in his hand.
[Iron Daddy]
I can do boyfriends.
[19:21]
#fanfic#starker#starker fanfiction#starker fanfic#starker fic#starker fluff#getting together#confessions#ironspider#ironspider fanfiction#ironspider fanfic#ironspider fic#ironspider fluff#sfw#sfw starker#starker prompt fill#tony stark/peter parker#peter parker/tony stark#sie fics
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Coping mechanisms.
Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader.
Word count: 1516.
You’ve been having nightmares ever since Lena was attacked and you destroyed her entire office at L Corp after a panic attack. Now, you’re left trying to handle them. And by handling them, you’ve been waking up in the middle of the night and running to your moms’ bed. They are not complaining. Rao, no. They would never.
Lena always holds you tight and tells you she is fine, safe, and that you can relax. Kara always kisses your forehead and tells you she’s got you. And they cuddle you in their arms and you usually fall back asleep.
“So, baby.” Lena says one morning after a very particular bad night for all of you. You could not fall back asleep, even with them by your side, and you almost froze their room with your uneven breathing. “I was talking to Kelly, and she mentioned there are some coping mechanisms for the panic attacks you’ve been having.”
“You want me to go to therapy?” You ask in shock. “I’m ok. I just have some nightmares where you are dying and I can’t save you and I’m covered in your blood like Carrie. But it’s fine.”
They look at each other in shock. It takes them a while to move past the horrible image you just planted in their heads.
“Right. Totally fine.” Kara is the first one to break.
“Look, there are just some things you can do before bed that can help you sleep better.” Lena holds your hands.
“Is this because I’ve been sleeping in your bed? Because I don’t have to.” You try to defend yourself. “I could stay in my own room. Totally alone. Haunted by the ghosts of the terrible visions of you guys dying and leaving me alone forever.”
“It’s not because you’re sleeping in our bed.” She squeezes your hands, reassuring. “It’s because I don’t want any ghosts terrifying my baby.”
“Come on, little one.” Kara puts breakfast in front of you and you almost forget what was the conversation in the first place. “Just give it a try. Go see aunt Kelly after school, and just hear what she has to say.”
“Fine, fine.” You dismiss them with your hands. “Now more bacon, please.”
So that’s it. You’re going to see aunt Kelly and her list of ‘coping mechanisms’.
“You know, what really helps sometimes is just talking about it.” Aunt Kelly says looking at you while you pace around the room, nervously.
“You can’t be my psychologist. You know, I’ve read about it. It’s against the law or something.”
“It is not against the law, but you’re right, it’s not recommendable.” She raises her eyebrows and you adjust the frame of your glasses. Oh no, you’re nervous. You’re doing exactly what your momma does when she is nervous. “But I’m not here as your therapist. I just want you to know ways that you can deal with that.”
“Fear of the imminent death of a relative that you weren’t able to prevent even though you have superpowers?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Ok, let’s hear it. Coping mechanism number one, talking about it. Doesn’t work. I have been telling everyone what’s going on inside my brain and I still wake up every night in terror, so… what’s number two?”
“Relaxation.” Aunt Kelly says, you look at her in doubt. “You can try to meditate. Or sit in nature for a while. You can try progressive muscle relaxation.”
“Hm, except the world is loud.” You finally sit down and look at her. “Aunty, what do you hear now?”
“Well, I hear our breathing. The AC is on. I hear cars from afar.” She puts her notebook down and looks at you so deeply you feel like she’s staring at your soul. “What do you hear?”
“Oh, Rao. What do I don’t hear, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” You throw yourself back in the chair with a huff sound. “Sirens, explosions, there’s a car chase downtown, a baby is crying, there’s a man yelling at the donuts shop. What a jerk. Oh, a pipe just burst in some poor woman’s house and she’s blaming her husband.”
“I see.” She stops you before you go on and on.
“It’s just very hard to relax when you have to try very hard NOT to, so you don’t hear all the noises in the universe.” You sigh. “Shall we try number three?”
“Physical activity is always good.” She picks up her notebook again. “It’s a natural form of stress relief.”
“I mean, do I have to tell you why physical activity won’t work on Supergirl’s daughter or do you think we’ve got it covered?” You don’t mean to be a pain in the ass, it’s just none of this would actually work on you. Kelly just stares at you for a while. She then puts her notebook down, and you can almost feel that she is giving up. Did you just break a therapist?
“Ok. Let’s think about what works for you.” She inhales deep. “What’s one way you use to shut the voices out?”
“Loud music usually helps.”
“Great. Before bed, put on your headphones, listen to very loud music. Shut out every other sound, shut out every other thought.” Kelly moves closer to you. “Honestly, it might not work. But if it doesn’t, we’ll think of something else, ok?”
“Sure. Yeah.” You stand up ready to leave. “Thanks aunt Kelly.”
She winks at you and you fly back home.
It’s already time for you to go to bed when Lena knocks on your door and puts her head inside.
“Hey babygirl, just want you to know that you’re more than welcome in our bed ok?”
“Thanks, mom.” You sit on your own bed a little nervous. “But first, I’m gonna try something aunt Kelly told me to.”
“Great. Have a goodnight, baby.” She closes the door and you scan your room for your headphones. This has to work. You’re done giving your moms reasons to worry about you, and if you’re being honest, the nightmares kind of suck too.
So, you put your phone on shuffle and the first music that blasts through it already says a lot about your situation.
“I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind.
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo in so much space.
And when you’re out there, without care, yeah I was out of touch…”
“BUT IT WASN’T BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW ENOUGH, I JUST KNEW TOO MUCH! DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY?”
You up on your bed before you notice.
“DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY? DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAZY? POSSIBLY!!!”
Kara rushes in the room and flies in front of your face so you can see her. To be fair the music was so loud you didn’t even hear her coming inside.
“KID!” She says and you take off your headphones. You look at yourself standing on your bed and Kara looking at you like you’re insane.
“Was I singing loud?” You ask blushing and she shakes her head agreeing.
“If you can consider screaming at the top of your lungs singing.”
“Oh, Rao.” You let your body fall into the bed and cover your face with your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
And just when you thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing for you, Lena walks in your room and you grunt terrified from the humiliation.
“Ok, listen, I’m not crazy!” You start justifying yourself before they send you to a mental hospital. “Aunt Kelly told me to listen to music as a coping mechanism and…”
“Oh, great.” Kara sits on your bed. “Let’s do it.”
“Do… what?” You finally lift your look to stare at her.
“Sing.” She takes the plug out of the phones and the song starts blasting from it. “YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE IN CONTROL?”
She yells making you and Lena startled. Now you’re staring at her like she is insane.
“I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY! I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY! I THINK YOU’RE CRAZY JUST LIKE ME!” Kara keeps going and you look at Lena who’s trying very hard not to laugh. Kara looks at her too, almost like she’s asking for backup and Lena shrugs.
“EVER SINCE I WAS LITTLE, EVER SINCE I WAS LITTLE IT LOOKED LIKE FUN!” Lena is the next one to yell and you are so in shock you can’t even fully process what’s going on before you. Is Lena Luthor singing in your bedroom at ten thirty on a Wednesday night?
“COME ON KID!” Kara holds your hands and you let yourself go again even though this looks insane.
“BUT MAYBE I’M CRAZY, MAYBE YOU’RE CRAZY, MAYBE WE’RE CRAZY! PROBABLY!” You three yell together and fall into laughter right after. What. Just. Happened?
When you fall asleep that night, there are no nightmares. No powers spiraling out of control. There’s just music and laughter and fun. It’s amazing to know what your moms would do for you. Oh, and you have to remember to thank aunt Kelly for this.
Notes:
- how insane is that the first song on my phone was ACTUALLY this one?! I felt like it was meant to be!?!
- thanks @hermen0404 for another prompt idea! This was so much fun!
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Idk if this is where I'm supposed to request anything but if it's not then just ignore it, please! I just finished reading everything on your masterlist, and I particularly adored the Solomon/Arbor/Michael one. If possible, can we see something a bit fluffy between Michael and Arbor? Up to you if it'll be SFW or NSFW :)
Hey anon! Yep, this is where you're supposed to request! I currently only have one other request that I'm super stuck on at the moment, so don't feel shy about sending them in! There should be 3 slots left open at the moment! Fill them up while you can!!
And I'd be happy to write some cute Michael/Arbor for you~
Under the cut!
When Arbor awoke, he was facing the stars. He felt around a bit, still not completely awake and trying to gain his bearings. He knew he’d fallen asleep in his willow tree, and this obviously was no tree. His hands found the substance he was laying on, a condensed magic that felt cool and smooth to the touch, fluid in it’s movements yet firm enough to keep Arbor afloat in the endless abyss of space. Just as Arbor began to search for ways out of this strange place, a warm, large hand covered his own, and he immediately relaxed.
“Michael.” Was all he murmured, relaxing onto what he now recognized as a bedsheet. Michael’s bedroom was a strange place, made of more magic than earthly material, a room that lived in the midst of stars, planets, and everything else that wandered space. You could only tell what furniture was where by straining your eyes to see the contours, where one glowing ball of light distorted and a cloud of pink dust cut off abruptly and picked up a little higher.
“Good evening, strawberry.” Michael said, running one warm hand up Arbor’s bare back as the other held firmly onto the nature mage’s palm. “You looked like you were having trouble sleeping, so I brought you up here.”
He smiled softly, leaning up slightly to press his lips to Michael’s. It was a chaste kiss, as far as these things go, but Arbor felt his face growing hot as he laid back down. Michael didn’t stop, his blue-gray hair tickling Arbor’s shoulder as the angel laid small kiss after small kiss on his strawberry’s neck. The scent of lavender and incense was thick in the air, and as Michael pulsed his vast magic of the sky into Arbor’s bones, into his skin, the green haired man found he could breathe easy.
“Arbor, flip around for me please?” Michael asked, pinching Arbor’s butt. The smaller man yelped and flipped over, nearly knocking the angel off balance from where he’d been straddling Arbor’s thighs. Michael simply adjusted how he sat and looked down at Arbor through hooded eyes, seemingly content to stare and do nothing more.
“Well?” The smaller man asked when he got impatient. “I’ve turned over. What now?”
Michael’s soft smile grew into a shit eating grin, his neon blue eyes flashing in the darkness of his room. “I just wanted to see your pretty face.”
Arbor snorted to try and hide how that corny line made his face grow hot, ears burning as Michael’s gaze only intensified.
“I’m serious, Arbor. You’re beautiful. I can’t get enough of you.” He murmured, leaning down to press his lips to the hollow of Arbor’s neck. “Every time I see you I just want to eat you up.”
Arbor scoffed, hiding his face in Michael’s hair. “You’re an incurable flirt.”
“Only for you. Only when you smile for me.”
“Hm, a smile? Is that all you’re satisfied with?” Arbor asked, gently rubbing Michael’s shoulders. The angel pulled up from where he’d been kissing Arbor’s neck and looked down at his strawberry with amusement.
“Is that what you think of me?” He eventually asked, leaning down to graze his nose against Arbor’s pec. “An angel so pure and good that a mere smile from my beloved satisfies me for all of eternity?”
Arbor tilted his head, considering the question. He certainly hadn’t meant it that way, but the way Michael said it... it was suspicious. By the time Arbor figured it out, it was too late.
Michael bit down on his nipple.
“MICHAEL!” He roared, flipping them both over to dig his fingers into Michael’s sides. The damn piranha didn’t let go, only giggled as he licked at the abused flesh.
“Of course I’m not satisfied only by your smile, I just said I can never get enough of you!” Michael said, grinning happily as he tickled Arbor. “Do you think I lay by your bedside all night thinking about your smile? When your ass is right there?”
Arbor snort-giggled, pushing Michael’s face away.
“Excuse me, I misdiagnosed you earlier. You’re an incurable horn dog!”
“No! I am a flirtatious horn dog who has a healthy appreciation for my beloved’s posterior!” Michael declared before promptly flipping Arbor like a hamburger and slapping his ass. Due to Michael being a rather heavy-handed angel, that hurt something awful, so the only logical conclusion was for Arbor to reach behind himself to make crab hands at Michael’s nipple, laughing the entire while. Michael eventually got the upper hand in their little play fight once more, forcibly spooning Arbor as he whispered into the nature mage’s ear.
“When you let me touch you, it feels like the sky shatters where our bodies meet.” He said, nibbling on Arbor’s earlobe a bit. Arbor snorted and rolled his eyes, ignoring the corny line’s affect on him..
“Cheese, pure cheese Michael.”
“Oh? Is my endless, catastrophic love for you cheesy, Arbor? I was unaware.” The angel murmured, his voice thick with amusement. Michael shifted until he was laying completely on top of Arbor, boxing the smaller man between his arms.
“What if I told you that the only music I can stand to listen to pounds to the beat of your heart? What then?” He said, a warm hand tilting Arbor’s head so Michael could kiss deeply into his mouth. Arbor whined, squirming under Michael’s weight, but the angel had no intentions of letting him go. He kissed Arbor breathless, purring every time the smaller man returned the enthusiasm, baiting Arbor in a combination of pleasure and reward until the nature mage was panting, hard and needy under his angel, the tattoo of crosses entangled in rose’s thorns pulsing happily, the sign of bondage between Michael and Arbor relishing in their shared happiness.
“I’d say...” Arbor finally said, his own golden eyes meeting Michael’s neon blue, hooded and sultry.
“You’re pure cheese and corn.”
#obey me shall we date#obey me michael#obey me mc#obey mc mc/michael#michael/mc#obey me arbor#arbor#obey me fic#obey me fic request#fic request#pine writes#michael obey me#fluff#obey me fluff
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