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davnittbraes · 2 years

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The Second Step - Chapter Nine

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3100

Warnings etc: PLEASE READ. I AM ALL CAPSING FOR A REASON. THERE ARE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MURDER AND BLOOD IN THIS CHAPTER.

For those of you who want to skip it, I have indicated the beginning and end of the extremely graphic section with this: ----------

Other warnings: emotional trauma, anxiety, mention of past depression, panic attacks, implied sexual abuse

Notes: This is a ROUGH chapter, but these things need to happen in order for Reader and Mando to truly move forward. Somebody please send me cute fluffy things I need a hug after editing this.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

It’s strange how the passage of time can change depending on the situation.

Suns rise and set. Planets spin at the exact same pace as they have for eons. Even the universe expands with a growth that is measurable down to the tiniest increment.

Yet time seems to speed up during periods of happiness and joy - days, months and even years passing within what feels like the briefest of moments.

And it can also slow to a pace that rivals nothing else in existence, the steady beats that indicate its movement seeming to pause under the weight of emotions like fear and dread.

If someone were to find a way to reverse that effect, they’d be kriffing rolling in credits.

The last two hours have been the longest of your life, and time doesn’t seem to be moving any faster even though the ship is now parked on a landing pad in Junkfort Station’s industrial sector.

You’ve been working up the nerve to tell Mando. You had said you would, after Takodana - promised you’d tell him if you were ever in a situation where your past might cause trouble. But you’ve spent literal years blocking out anything and everything to do with Junkfort Station, fighting to suppress the memories that threaten to pull you back into that dark place once again. Any acknowledgement of your connection to it feels like letting those memories win, somehow.

So you’ve been avoiding Mando. Like a coward.

The kid coos, drawing your attention. He’s looking up at you from the nest of blankets you’ve yet again made into your bunk in the far corner of the hold. That same place you’d set up when you first joined them, then packed up before you’d left him on Tatooine and re-established when you’d finally stopped pretending you didn’t want to be here.

A little corner of the world you’d started to feel comfortable in, despite the cold durasteel floor and the storage crates and gear and supplies all around. Even though the blankets were borrowed, it was a place of your own, in a way. Maybe because out of all the options in the galaxy, you had chosen to come back to it.

You haven’t always had a choice in where you rest your head.

Shaking away memories that boil just beneath the surface, you squat down to stroke the edge of a pointed ear. “It’s gonna be ok, kiddo.”

Those big, amber eyes blink at you with an eerie comprehension. You’ve seen that look before, a wisdom behind his gaze that doesn’t make sense in one so small. Sighing, you let your hand fall. “Yeah, I know. I’m saying that more for myself than for you.”

The kid chirps, raising his arms, and you scoop him up smoothly just as the sound of boots on the ladder echoes through the hold.

Mando’s voice floats over your shoulder. “I’m going to go see what our options are.”

You turn toward him just enough to avoid seeming rude but not enough for him to see your face, occupying yourself with adjusting the kid’s robe. “Sounds good. It’s uh, it’s probably best if I stay out of sight while we’re here. I can look after the kid while you get the repairs done.”

There’s a pause, and again time slows to a crawl, dragged down by the heavy pounding of your heart and the cold ball in the pit of your stomach. It takes effort, but you force yourself to look at him - the black visor is an anchor in the shimmer of silver armour, the gaze behind it open without being seen.

He knows, of course he kriffing knows, I can’t hide from him I can’t I can’t go out there -

Suddenly a warm leather-clad palm is cupping your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. The weight of it shifts your focus and time ramps up to a normal speed.

His modulated voice is a cool balm on your nerves. “Lock the door. Stay in my bunk with the kid. I won’t let anyone else onboard.”

Relief temporarily calms your anxiety, enough to let you smile, even if it’s just a weak curve of your lips.

He shifts, slowly stepping into your space, his hand steady on your cheek, and your heartbeat flutters for a different reason. With precise, predictable movements, he leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

The chill of his helmet on your skin, the warmth of his hand on your cheek, the scent and the feel and the nearness of him dissipate the tight grip on your lungs and you can breathe again, take in the life-giving air and his presence, and your eyelids slide shut as you fall into the moment.

All too quickly he’s stepping away, cloak swirling with his departure. But that brief moment was enough to give you focus.

You make your way toward his bunk, kid tucked snugly in the crook of your arm, silently repeating those words that have guided you through so many moments like the ones ahead.

I am alive.

I am safe.

I am going to survive.

*****

The kid finally passed out after who-knows-how-many hours, curled up against your chest, head tucked into your shoulder. He’d been restless, but apparently there were only so many times the little guy can lap around the bunk, peek into corners already explored, crawl all over you and the shelf and his hammock before boredom dragged him down into a fitful doze.

To be fair, your own feet are twitching with the urge to move, fingers tapping against the slats of Mando’s miserable excuse for a bed - says the girl sleeping on blankets over durasteel.

Snorting softly at your silent self-deprecation, you shift again, trying to ease the cramp in your lower back that’s been building since you crawled into the tight space. Not that you were complaining, the concept of being in the same place that Mando slept was exhilarating at first. Your treacherous mind supplied all kinds of images of muscled limbs and naked skin that you shoved away - Mando’s commitment to his creed along with the kid’s presence in his bunk probably prevented anything your imagination could come up with from happening in here.

The kid sighs heavily in his sleep, one ear drooping over your arm. You pat his back, the fabric of his robe rough beneath your palm, warm from his little body.

There have been sounds of people working all day, bangs and clanks and thunks and raised voices, sometimes just outside the hull. Not loud enough for you to recognize anyone, but you assume Mando is out there, too.

Which is… uncomfortably reassuring.

What does it mean that you feel safer with him around? You’ve survived on your own for so long, why should having Mando nearby make a difference?

You frown at the wall. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t make a difference if he’s in your life or not.

A trickle of unease worms its way into your stomach.

Dependence will get you killed as quickly as complacency.

The sound of the crew door sliding open startles you out of your musings, gaze flying to the bunk door. One hand slips down to the grip of your blaster, strapped to your thigh, while the other gently eases the kid out of your arms and onto the bed.

Mando said he wouldn’t let anyone in.

But you’re not taking any risks. Not while you’re here.

Bootsteps muffled by the durasteel approach the bunk and you move into as much of a standing position as you can, drawing your blaster.

A beep and the whir of the door mechanism and then he’s there, silver and black and brown and safety.

Mando.

Letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, shoulders slumping with the sudden release of tension. The visor takes it all in, helmet tilting in concern, and you wave it off with a flick of your fingers, holstering your blaster. “All done?”

It’s his turn to sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “For now. Could only afford to patch it - the mechanics around here aren’t fond of bounty hunters and their prices show it.”

“Makes sense. You probably scare away their best clientele.”

He hums noncommittally. “Used the last of my credits. I’ve got contacts on Nevarro, for both work and repairs. It’s about half a cycle away.”

“Works for me. I’ll be up in a sec - let me just tuck the kid in, he fell asleep in my arms a while ago.”

A slight nod of the helmet and then he’s gone, heading toward the cockpit. You turn to find the kid curled up in a little ball on the bed, one ear flopped over his eyes, snoring softly. Pulling a blanket from his hammock to drape it over his little form, you quietly step out of the bunk, keying the door shut. The engines whine as the start-up sequence begins, and you start toward the ladder.

Nevarro. You’ve never been, once you learned it was the home of the Bounty Hunters Guild you’d avoided it just as much as you’d avoided Junkfort Station. But something had happened a while ago, rumours said the Guild had been attacked and no longer operated there, so what did that mean for -

The crew door suddenly flies open and people pour into the hold.

Everything is moving too fast.

You can’t track it - them - whoever they are, they’re everywhere all at once.

Instincts kick in just as a blaster bolt zings past your head.

You make a break for the cockpit but a human male appears out of nowhere and catches you by the shoulders. The abrupt stop throws off your balance and he uses that, yanking you backward then shoving you to your knees.

Pain flashes up your thighs and back. You cry out despite your clenched teeth - every muscle in your body is tensed.

Too many can’t fight them all -

Blaster fire, movement by the ladder, screams of pain -

Mando -

Quick, your hand flies to your thigh holster.

Just as the ice-cold barrel of a blaster presses hard against your forehead.

You freeze.

The man holding the blaster stands at your shoulder. His teeth glint in the light of the hold. “Smart girl. Be good and this whole thing will be easier for you.”

The slimy condescension in his voice makes you want to vomit.

The man keeps his eyes on you as he calls out. “Back off, Mandalorian. We’ve got your pretty little plaything. Give us the bounty or I’ll give her a bolt to the brain.”

Bounty? Mando hasn’t hunted since he found -

The kid.

It takes effort to keep your gaze on the man holding the blaster to your head. Don’t look at the bunk. Don’t let him even think about looking there.

You have no idea who these people are but they’re obviously not here to make friends.

Protect the kid. They can’t find him.

A quiet falls over the hold. The others shift, obviously reacting to some movement you can’t see. There are eight of them in your line of vision, sounds like three or four more behind you, back by the ladder.

Too many.

“Let her go.” Mando’s modulated voice is cold, words clipped.

The man scoffs. “And lose my leverage? I’m not an idiot.” His gaze drifts down your face, lands on your mouth. “Besides, I quite like how she looks on her knees for me.”

A feeling floods your body, hot and sharp and almost painful in its intensity. A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hate.

You hate this man.

He chuckles, eyebrows lifting in amusement as he meets your gaze again. “A little fire in you, eh? Well, we’ll have to find a way to put that out, get you ready for the slave market.”

Time slows, stretches.

Stops.

You understand several things all at once.

First, these men won’t leave until they get what they’re looking for, which will eventually lead them to finding the kid.

Second, Mando won’t risk opening fire with you like this - you’re too exposed, no cover close by to shield you, and you probably won’t be able to move fast enough to unholster your blaster and turn off the safety before the man squeezes the trigger.

Third, there’s a small knife stuck in the top of the man’s boot, not good for much except trimming or shaving, but good enough for what you need right now.

----------

Because you’re going to kill this man.

You’ve done it before. You don’t like it.

Those faces still appear your dreams, flicker across your vision when you see someone with similar features.

But you’ve done what you had to do, to stay alive.

And if this man takes you, you will die, if not by someone else’s hand then by your own.

I am going to survive.

All it takes is a flick of your wrist and the hilt of the knife is in your hand.

The blade flashes as it turns up, in, moves toward the man’s thigh.

Sharp point aimed at his femoral artery.

Pressure, resistance, then release.

The man’s scream burns through your body, boiling hot like the blood pouring over your hand.

The knife twists, deeper, heat raging over and under your skin and you’re burning alive.

Time snaps into motion again.

You reel, falling onto your back at the same time the man crumples to the floor, his free hand grasping at the wound in his leg, blaster rising to point at you once more.

His shot goes wide as one of his crew stumbles over him, running, frantically trying to escape -

Escape what -

A flurry of bolts whips through the air, each one landing its target.

Several bodies drop almost simultaneously, the dull thumps vibrating through the floor.

They barely register to you, a quiet background noise, just like the gentle thrum of the engines when the ship is in hyperspace.

Your focus is on the man bleeding out in front of you.

He lifts his blaster again. It shakes, but it’s steady enough to aim.

You’re surging forward before you realize it, twisting his wrist until the blaster drops. He cries out in pain, says something, lips forming words but they don’t make sense, they’re gibberish to you.

The knife flashes again and then silence.

Silence all around you.

Bodies are scattered throughout the hold. Nothing stirs.

A contrast to the fire still roaring in your ears.

You stand smoothly, stride toward the crew door and slam the lock with the side of your fist.

The fist still holding the knife.

You wait until the door shuts and the electronic tones confirm it’s locked before you turn around. The whir of the engines pulsing to life tells you Mando is pushing them through the take-off sequence.

Grabbing a strap that’s hanging from the ceiling, you brace yourself as the ship shudders, creaks as it lifts into the air.

Time passes.

You don’t notice.

The sound of the engines keening bleeds through a crack in your awareness. There’s a click and a shove and then a gliding smoothness, and the air temperature drops a couple degrees as the ship moves into hyperspace.

You’re still holding the strap. It takes some effort to uncurl your fingers and let go of it.

Taking one step, then another, you walk to the body of the man whose blood is caked on your hand.

The knife bounces once as it drops to his chest.

----------

Boots on the ladder.

Your gaze automatically lifts to meet the black visor’s gaze.

Mando stands there, a few paces away. Silent, still.

Watching you.

You wait, poised. Ready.

The fire rages.

“Are you hurt?”

His concern falls over the fire like gentle rain. Spitting and sputtering, dimming it’s heat ever-so-slightly.

“No.”

Did you say that? Maybe. Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears.

He starts toward you but some instinct, some part of the fire, doesn’t want closeness, pulls you back a step.

He stops abruptly, hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

The fire sputters again under your confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“I failed to protect you.”

White-hot flame erupts.

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

Your words land like a whip crack and you know it probably hurts but the fire now flares out of control and you can’t stop.

“I don’t need anyone to protect me. I can protect myself.” Hot fire rage - “No, apparently I can’t. All this time. All these years. I have been smart. I have survived.”

You look down at the body, seeing but not seeing, because it’s not a body, it’s proof of your failure. “Everything I’ve been through. Could have been for nothing.”

Your hand, the one sticky with blood, flies out, gestures behind you vaguely. “I was there. The last place in the galaxy I should have been. And I was there because I followed you. I followed you when I should have done what I needed to, should have walked away from you before now and I didn’t and if he had taken me I -”

The fire burns up your words and you can’t speak anymore, can’t see, vision filled with red and black and -

Silver.

Cool and smooth, unlike the jagged heat that threatens to consume all.

It surrounds you, shoves its way between you and the flame.

Your hands grasp at it, clutching, desperate.

The fire smolders, smokes and fades away until it’s nothing but coals.

There’s wetness on your cheeks.

Something is brushing it away, gentle.

Long fingers.

Smooth callouses.

Hands that are often at work but always protected by leather.

Mando’s hands.

Mando’s bare hands.

Warm and golden and alive.

You turn into the caress, lips pressing against the wide palm. Your lungs fill with the scent of worn leather and blaster fire.

He’s speaking. Has been for some time.

Your thoughts churn to focus on his words and they slowly sink in.

“You’re safe. You’re alive. Listen to me, tionas. Hear my voice.”

As your awareness shifts back into your body, so does exhaustion. Your muscles tremble with strain, you stumble with the effort of holding yourself upright.

But it’s ok, his arms are around you before you can fall, and he’s solid and strong and alive.

Like you.

You want to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice is stuck, bound in your throat by a mass of unshed tears.

His hands smooth them away, gliding over your skin, your face, in time with the words circling in a steady rhythm through your mind.

I am alive.

I am safe.

I am going to survive.

And you believe them.

*****

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the world is light embodied

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scknight05 · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday 📝

I wasn't tagged by anyone since no one really knows me (yet.. hopefully.. maybe.. I dunno..lol) But I do wanna tag @tizniz, for being my biggest supporter with this journey, as well as @warpedpuppeteer because they both have been super awesome in letting me toss around my totally insane ideas with them and giving me input when I'm stumped.

This will probably be the first 9-1-1 fanfic I post, but it's not the first one I've started... And there are sooooo many more ideas to come soon hopefully. But this is what I'm currently working on and a few warnings before hand. 1-This is the first story I've written in a LONG time. So I'm rusty. EXTREMELY rusty! 2-I haven't done any major editing yet so I apologize for any errors. 3-I may be sharing too much with this compared to other people's "WIP Wednesday" posts so half of it will be behind a cut (if you make it that far and want to keep reading).

A little tidbit: what I'm posting is actually the scene that jumped into my head when this idea was born so I'm creating the story around it. And as of this moment, I do NOT have a title for this.. That's one thing I am also very horrible at... creating titles.

So I'm gonna shut up now and get on with it!

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Buck?” Buck wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Of course I am! As long as I have you, your dad and everyone else I love in my life I’m gonna be just fine.” Chris beamed with joy as he threw both of his arms around Buck’s chest to give him a tight hug. “I love you, Buck.” Buck could feel tears of joy and happiness welling up in his eyes as he smiled down at Christopher who was still clinging tightly to his chest. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the curls on top of his head. “I love you too, buddy. Always will.” Buck sniffed and tried to discretely wipe his eyes before Chris could see. “Now how about I go check on dinner? Make sure your dad doesn’t burn everything to a crisp.” “Good idea.” Chris laughed. “But we could always order a pizza just to be safe!” With a laugh, Buck ruffled Chris’s hair, earning him a slight groan before he moved from where he was sitting on the boy’s bed. “We’ll keep that as Plan B, just in case. But I have faith in your dad.” With a smile on his face, he closed Christopher’s door and slowly made his way towards the living room. His smile quickly faded with the pain in his head still persistent but also beginning to throb uncomfortably against his skull, causing him to have to prop himself against the wall for a moment. He clenched his eyes closed in an effort to quell the pain and stop the room from spinning. “You good, Buck?” He hadn’t even heard Eddie approach and forced his eyes open to see he was standing in the middle of the living, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Y-yeah, its just this stupid headache. It won’t go away and now my head feels like it’s about to explode.” Buck attempted to take a few steps but in hindsight it was a bad idea. The room suddenly began to spin violently and the only reason he wasn’t on the floor was the fact that Eddie had all but ran to him and was now holding Buck by his shoulders to steady him in place. “Hey, hey. Easy, Buck!” Eddie’s eyes widened with worry while he watched as Buck took a few deep breaths in through his nose. “You still with me?” “Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that.” He replied shakily as he rubbed his eyes before placing his hand on Eddie’s forearm. “Thanks for catching me.” “Always.” Eddie smiled at Buck reassuringly, assessing him and making sure he wasn’t about to faceplant into the floor again before letting him go and making his way back towards the kitchen. “Dinner is basically ready, so lets get some food into you and see if that will help.” “Good idea. I’ll just go grab Christopher.” Eddie stopped and turned to look at Buck, confusion set across his face. “Who’s Christopher?” Eddie asked as his face scrunched up. “Very funny, Eddie.” Buck rolled his eyes and chuckled and turned back in the direction of the door he had closed behind him not too long ago. “Seriously Buck, who are you talking about?” “Christopher. You know, your son.” “Buck? I don’t have a son.” Eddie slowly began to walk towards Buck as he laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Okay, good one Eddie.” Buck just smiled as he reached the door and turned the knob. “Hey Chris, are you in on this too? Your dad is acting lik….” Buck’s voice trailed off as he looked into the room, a shiver shot down his spine and he felt like he had ice in his veins. He gazed around the space he was in not even five minutes earlier but instead of finding the preteen on his bed, the room was completely different. Where there once was a bed, posters adorning the wall, and other memorabilia indicating the presence of a preteen, in its place was now a large desk and stacked bookshelves; a home office it seemed. “What the hell?!” Buck’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes widening in fear and confusion as he looked around the room. “Eddie, what is going on?! WHERE is Christopher?” “Buck, I keep telling you I have no clue who this Christopher you’re talking about is! A-and him being my son? I’ve never had a son!”

#me #personal #writing #911 #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #my writing #the first story i've written in a long time #I'm sorry to everyone who may read this #I also debated posting this now since the EW stuff just dropped

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plutoswrath · 2 years

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Please post your opinion on what black moon Lilith represents in charts of men, women and nonbinary

Hello! Long post ahead!! Please read through everything or else it won’t make sense lol

The post about lilith I’m currently still editing does touch on gender and astrology. I think I’ve said this before but I want to make one thing clear, as someone who’s also into sociology:

Gender and astrology is only relevant because we live in a society that revolves around gender performance. It’s also a binary idea of gender. Man and woman; and both are represented and constructed as differences. This is the norm society created in order for it (and it many other social harmful systems) to work. Being a man equals to different behavior, ideas and attitudes. Same with being a woman. That’s why men and women are usually raised and socialized very differently. And that’s why we can see differences in the manifestations of certain energies BUT NOT because the stars are gendered! I want people to let go of this weird idea of bioessentialism that apparently is inherent in the stars. Gender as it is now understood in western culture (because I grew up in a northern part of Europe, this is the culture I’m most familiar with) is a social construct that serves a primary oppressive system and purpose.

That means that the different manifestations we see in men and women in astrology is due to gendered performance. We have to go with lots of nuance into these conversations, even though I want to break them down as easily as possible for everyone to understand.

People that are non-binar fall out of this heteronormative system by definition, but there’s more to it. These people still grew up in a binary system, which can lead to internalized believes about gender and sex that are hard to unlearn even though you are not cis. Gender and gender performance is also tight to race, you can also talk about class here and how these two categories alone can alter your whole perception and experience about gender performance. This intersectional approach is very important to keep in mind, even though I do want to generalize the certain aspects that people that fall into a specific section have in common.

For example, I’m not cis either, but I know, that politically I am a woman; I do feel strongly about my experience with womanhood and know that I’m not only read as a woman but have been socialized that way my whole life, even though my experience has been different to those who identify as cis. So I do think that people who are not cis fall out of the scheme and definition of certain astrological placements/energies.

Also; astrology so far is very whitewashed and extremely heteronormativity gendered (which in itself goes hand in hand with whiteness)

There’s a lack of representation when it comes to astrologers that don’t fall into the heteronormative and to see their approach and definition of the astrological practice.

Therefore I am also wondering what happens to our practice of astrology when we‘ll finally strip it from those harmful ideologies. I remember writing about the sign cancer and how it is so weirdly infantilized..that cancer women are happy as long as they have a home and a man by her side…..that’s not cancer, that’s a cancerian woman that operates as best as it can in a system that tells women that they should be with a man and become a housewife. And now I wonder, what is truly the essence of cancer if you strip away the heteronormative idea of a cishet marriage?? It’s not about dissing marriage and cishet people, but about the idea that these ideas are inherent to the energies of an astrological placement.

ANYWAYS BACK TO LILITH

We have lilith and we know what her themes are. Now we only have to set it in context and that context will look very different for everyone else. I just know and observed that lilith in hetero relationships, or at least were those dynamics are vividly present and (subconsciously) lived out, the themes often stay the same between the man and the women; if he hasn’t reflected on and works on his misogyny there’ll be a strong and often unpleasant power dynamic between the two.

Lilith is INHERENTLY very political in that sense because the story is about the power dichotomy between two people that were meant to be equal and then ended in the separation between women and man due to her own free will. And I’m not trying to girlboss lilith because our lilith can want things that are bad and makes us act out in ways that can definitely be harmful. I’m just trying to say that Lilith talks about power dynamics. Us in relation to the world/society. And we dissect ourselves in relation to what we want and are and what we shouldn’t be and crave. It’s again talking about the raw and honest nature of desire and our inner nature and how it relates to others/society.

And again the story of lilith is not historical, it’s religious so it is inherently a metaphor. This story can be read and interpreted in many ways. But I try to identify Lilith’s story with what I see in real life and make my sense out of it. And from what I’ve seen lilith always reduces itself to the political and private self (which are ultimately interchangeable) in conflict to each other or others. So there’s that.

This theme can be true for everyone, no matter what you identify as. For example I see lilith playing out as power plays in hetero relationships often but I do wonder if it’s at least somehow different if the man is aware of his own misogyny. And ofc what happens to the woman if she isn’t aware of her own misogyny.

I guess everyone who isn’t socially and politically active doesn’t like my take buy this is the type of astrology I practice.

Edit; I’m rereading this currently and realize that I haven’t touched on the way lilith can show up between two women. It can be incredibly uplifting because she is seeing in the other what everyone denied her of and honors her power and wisdom. It can be very freeing to be together and familiarity and power can be found in shared suffering. But ofc one or both can be triggered by their internalized misogyny as well. Fully in lilith nature it is polarizing, either incredibly freeing and nice or painful.

#WOWSA I HAVENT PROOF READ IDC IDC THIS TOOK SO LONG #replies #anonymous #Lilith #black moon lilith #sociology

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dvar-trek · 1 year

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Happy WiP Wednesday on a Thursday

don't even worry about it! we're good!!

in this edition: injury update, travel update, and new projects 💖

as you may remember, i did hurt myself for realsies knitting in the round on too-small DPNs, and have had to take it really REALLY slow since then, including many days off. i went to the doctor, because things have not been improving (like i had to reconcile the petty cash at work before i left, and gripping the bills to count them was legitimately difficult 🙃), and she said we better test me for rheumatoid arthritis because i am getting to be that age! so we will see what happens. as my friend karla says, i am already a walking inflammation, so. i would prefer to not have more. but also i'm pretty sure i don't have it, because that would involve me having something diagnosable.

anyway in the meantime i'm taking lots of breaks, soaking my hands in warm water, and doing lots of stretches. i started two different projects in the round on circular needles, but that's been extremely slow going. since i'm the world's slowest knitter, i don't do big projects. but that means i'm working pretty small diameters, and the needles are too long to work comfortably, and it puts strain on my grip. not sure how to describe it properly. even when working with a properly sized cable, it ends up feeling stretched too tight, especially when purling—somewhat like this (pic from sheepandstitch dot com):

also, on one of them, the yarn is SO slippery and SO prone to splitting and also i made SUCH a dumb mistake that i frogged the whole thing. but let's not worry about that.

IN THE MEANTIME, i am in the great american middle west for like a week and a half to take care of my brother. it turns out my dad lives in one of the "cool" neighborhoods of the city (aka the school district is not very good, so everyone else moving in is young gay couples). his neighbor who is a trump supporter is moving out, because the neighborhood is getting too "woke" for her (aka people have put up pride flags and BLM signs).

here's the project i brought with me for my downtime (not that i'm going to have any):

and here's the ravelry link. i'm using Lang Regina yarn on US 5 square needles (bought one set of these square needles in a relatively small size to see if they help me at all—stay tuned).

this ended up being the perfect project for me right now! it's worked flat, so i'm not dealing with the wrist strain of circs as discussed above. it's tiny (i'm doing 37 st across) and a suuuuuper simple lace pattern that works up quick, so even i (the world's slowest knitter, as previously stated) feel like i'm making progress after only a few minutes. the pattern is a 4-row repeat that's easy to memorize, and after you've done about 3 repeats, it is immediately obvious where in the pattern you are just by lookin, which makes it perfect for travel, as you can pick it up and put it down at a moment's notice. i've also been experimenting with frequent swapping between english style and continental style, so that i'm not straining one set of muscles the entire time, and this pattern turns out to be great for that. the right side has all the increases and decreases, all of which are worked knit-wise, which i'm finding easier to do english-style. and the wrong side has all the quick switches between knit and purl (eg k3, p1, k1, p2, etc), which is much faster to work continental-style.

i think it's pretty likely that i'll end up with second-mitt syndrome, but hopefully it'll be a quick enough knit that i can power through.

also working on:

-remembering how to drive (i will GET there please do not honk at me for the next two days THANKS) -cooking every day (😭) since my brother can't really cook much -the to-do list my dad left me, which is. extensive. and includes things like "plant half of the potatoes in the dish on the counter and save the other half until i get back because there's debate about the best time to plant in this area so i want to test it out. make sure you pick the sproutiest ones to plant and leave the others so they have time to get sprouty before we plant them." -my actual job (a little)

since i'm not home and my dad "has too much going on already" to have a pet, you don't get a bonus pic this week ✌

#wip wednesday

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ryleejam · 2 years

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@thetheatergremlin it's their dragon Jeremy au(not canon to the Story it's up to them tho)

Iou a title (edit later)

Squip After a couple of hours of a weird black out cause by alcohol, he reactivate back at his host's home

He thought to himself

"hmmm I guess Michael took Jeremy home, good I was getting some bad feelings-"

This thought stop when seeing a frighten Michael and Jeremy sitting on the floor near the door, they look like a mess! Scrapes and bruises all over ash stuck on their clothes, they look like they've been running from something or someone, either way it causes extreme worried in the cloud dragon man,

"oh my goodness, Jeremy are you and Michael ok!?,what happened!?"

Jeremy a scared little dragon teen look at his squip shaken,

"me and Michael were just hanging at the party than Rich set a fire!,Jake is really hurt,but we all almost didn't make it!...it was terrifying"

Squip's eyes wide in shock,

"it can't be,are you sure it was him,jerk or not he's not a arsonist,he wouldn't danger people's lives"

Jeremy looks at Michael, he was going to say something to him but he shakes thinking about the events, Michael who is used to Jeremy talking to his squip out loud, hugs Jeremy comforting him

Michael trying to look at squip who he can't see

"it's true...we don't know what happened to Rich,we are really worry,but what if it was his squip made him do it,what if you try to hurt us?..."

Squip felt hurt,he would never, not in a million years he would never think about hurting anyone especially Jeremy and his friends, dead dragon instinct or not he counts Jeremy as his hatchling his kid,he would never want to put him in harms way,he has to prove it to them and he thinks he knows how

"Jeremy, just give me a moment.."

"what?"

He walks out of sight,and start to search for his well brain search history, after a couple of minutes he found it,a saying to make anything real or fack into the visible plane ,it's perfect,sad this was going to be a surprise after Jeremy reach his goal, but that's not important anymore they need him,

than after the process, he felt the ground for real this time,it work he's actually here,

Squip walks back getting ready to what ever gets thrown at him,

Jeremy looks at him with concussion

"what did you do?,why did you have to go?"

Michael to Sean staring him down and eyes winded

"ummmmm excuse me but is that a fucking cloud dragon? Weren't they dead for like decades?"

Jeremy looks at him

"what do you mean?..wait can you see squip?"

Squip bends down and smiles

"I made myself physical, I was going to surprise you but I think you two need comfort, squip or not I feel you two need it"

Jeremy looks like he more shock now dut in a good way, someone he see as a parent figure is now physically here everyone else can see him,

"I won't mind a hug,but Michael,do want to hug a cloud dragon?"

Jeremy smile at him

Michael looks at Jeremy than at squip than smile

"yes,I want to hug the guy who been protecting my favorite person"

Squip takes no time and hugs both of them coving them with his cloud like wings with his arms,

Michael kind of surprised of affection that a super computer can have, but he feels a lot better,

Jeremy on the other hand he his a happy dragon boi,he feels things are going to be okay, what ever happens he can count on squip to be there without a problem,and now he also doesn't have to poorly explain what squip looks like anyone to people because oh Lord it was tuff,

Squip a happy dragon dad takes the boys to the couch and give them blankets and pillows,

"ok I know things are kind of better now, but you two need sleep, school is in 6 hours if I can't convince l Jeremy's dad to let you guys stay home, after I explained who I am heh, you two need sleep"

The boys nod and get comfortable and both slowly fall asleep ,

squip smiles and ruffles Jeremy's hair

"I'll be here in the morning, you kids can count on me"

(tadaaaa, that was long sorry if it is bad)

#be more chill #bmc squip #jeremy heere #michael mell #bmc au

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bubblebass1 · 3 months

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What is happiness?

Recently, my sister asked me to fill out an interview for her project, and I have decided to include my answers to those questions here.

1. Please tell me a little bit about yourself and your life. Who do you believe you are? What are the major milestones you’ve experienced that have brought you to where you are and who you are today?

I am 22 years old, a recent college graduate, a teacher, a woman, a sister, a daughter, a girlfriend, and a creative person. I believe I am a good person, yet I am flawed which sets me back from the goodness I want to achieve in my lifetime. I take on various roles in my life, but the overarching goal in all of them is to support and guide others. However, my flaws are that I am ambitious, proud, and overly emotional myself.

There are a few major milestones that have pushed me into who I am today as a woman, many of which are unfortunate milestones that have forced me into a position of independence. For the formative years of my childhood, I grew up with separated parents, one of whom was an addict. Growing up with an abusive addict for a parent is difficult, but it teaches you skills such as learning how to read emotions and being in tune with others, but on the other hand, it leaves you without a model for how to control your own reactions and emotions. One of the hardest things was being separated from my mother at a young age, and then after years of no contact, she died from a drug overdose. Shortly after this occurred, my father, who had acted as a constant in my life, moved out of our home state and I stayed for college. This was extremely uprooting and taught me about independence. Even though this period of time in my life was like a whirlwind, I learned a lot about myself, such as that I value my independence, but I need certain supports in order to be successful. In knowing this, I aim to be the supports for others, since I wish that I had those supports throughout my life, instead of putting all my eggs in one basket and them sinking at the removal of them.

2. What are the most meaningful experiences you can recall from your life? What experiences do you believe life should provide you?

The most meaningful experiences that I can recall from my life are those in which I have spent with the people who matter most to me. In more recent memory, I was able to go to Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania with my boyfriend and all we did was walk around and look at plants, but it was some of the most meaningful experiences that I had that whole summer. Many of my favorite moments are spending quality time with my boyfriend, my siblings, my parents, and my friends. I also find joy in being recognized for my accomplishments such as when I got nominated for an award for my writing, when I published a story in an anthology with my university, or when I can share my skills with my classmates and offer edits and help with their writing or other creative projects.

I believe life should offer experiences that fulfill our need for connection and success in different ways. Connection with others is one of the most fulfilling experiences that life can offer, and I measure success in terms of happiness. While many view financial freedom as success (and that is valuable too), I find that life is more fun when you are chasing new experiences with the people you love, even if that means something as simple as walking around a garden.

3. When do you feel truly happy? What do you believe happiness really is?

Happiness is not always an achievable goal for some people, especially those who believe that they can never have enough of it. This comes into play when people use substances or become addicts to sex, gambling, porn, or other things that create temporary happiness. I believe that true happiness is more in line with being content than anything else. In short, when you don��t want for things. I believe this because I have experience with addiction in my family, and this influences my viewpoint. When you don't want for things, this enables you to focus on the present and the current experiences you are having and build memories, which then will feed into further happiness and prevent unhappiness by equipping you with experiences to call back upon in times of need.

4. What does your soul/true self want? Are you living a life that is aligned with that/those desire(s)?

I believe my true soul wants to feel needed. Selfishly, I want to feel like the people that I love need me and want me around. I also think that my soul yearns to be heard, and I believe that every person wants to be heard and accepted despite their shortcomings. I struggle to feel connection and love (I think because of my upbringing) and oftentimes will push people away in fear that my vulnerability is a turn-off. I think this is why my goal is to be someone who can support and guide others, since I often lack that same support and guidance, and see that many people are reaching out for it.

I am not living a life that is aligned with these values at the moment. I am kind of taking a backseat from what I want to be doing career-wise which would support my desire to help and listen to others, because I think that I need to be ready to listen before I take on such a monumental task. At this point in time, I am not ready to listen because I fear that I have so much to say that it clouds my judgement, my thoughts, and lessens my ability to support others since I am so stuck in my own head.

5. What kind of impact do you want to have on the world? What legacy do you want to leave behind when you die?

I want to make other people happy. I think of my Grandma who passed away, and how she was so full of love for her family and wish my impact on this world could be something similar. I know that my impact radius will most likely be small, but as a teacher, I want to be able to inspire students to value others, rather than have an individualistic mindset. I think the people we often love the most are less individualistic, and more geared towards supporting the group, whether that be a family, a community, or even a classroom.

When I die, I don't want people to be sad, but rather I want them to be inspired to support others in my honor. I think about when I have grandchildren, how I would want them to remember me as someone who was helpful, loving, and wise. You cannot be wise unless you have knowledge of yourself and others.

6. Will you share a hardship you’ve experienced in your life? Do you believe this hardship was associated with a culture you identify with? Why or why not?

A hardship that I have experienced in my life is the loss of my addict mother, and the removal of my father from my immediate support system due to a cross-country relocation. This is not a part of my culture or identity, my addict mother came from a wealthy background, she simply had a disease that unfortunately she could not be cured from. My dad moving away has nothing to do with my culture, just financial strain, and the need for a life change.

7. If you looked back at a photo of yourself as a child, do you still identify with that person and those dreams? Please explain your response.

When I look at myself as a child, I see the changes that have occurred throughout my life and no longer identify with that person today. I think that my life experience has influenced my morals and values so deeply, that even the roots system that they are founded on is profoundly different from when I was a child. There are a few similarities that remain steadfast, including my need to be creative, my bubbly personality, and my sensitivity, but the dreams that I had when I was a kid are well and truly gone. When I was little, I wanted to be different than everyone else, I wanted to stand out. Now, all I want is to be a part of the group. In fact, I think I need to be a part of the group to feel good about myself or be successful.

8. What does “living the good life” mean to you?

Author John Green once spoke about his experience as a bestselling author, and how when his novel, The Fault in Our Stars was released, he found himself touring around the country, making tons of money, getting invited to exclusive parties and events, and meeting prestigious and successful people. He claims that he was living "the dream." However, "the dream" was not his dream. He would much rather watch soccer with his friends, work out in the garden with his wife, and take walks with his kids. This is how I feel too. I think money is valuable only in pursuit of experiences with those we love.

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spidey-sophie · 3 years

Text

Red Light || Tom Holland Smut

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Stripper!Reader (p.s. If mob!Tom isn’t your thing, you can still read this. It is never explicitly confirmed that he is a mob/criminal. Only implied once/speculated. He can be any kind of millionaire!Tom you want to imagine!)

Summary: Every night there are a variety of customers. But this night is different. As you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only.

Word count: 12.2k

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, soft!dom!tom, guided female masturbation, edging/one little orgasm denial, oral (female + male receiving), fingering, spanking, ring kink (is there even such a thing?), multiple orgasms, squirting, slight choking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, cum play + swallowing. She also sucks on his fingers a lot, but it's me, so is that even a surprise? Explicit smut - minors dni.

Notes: This is the longest and dirtiest fic I ever wrote! After a loooong break it is finally here! I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you will enjoy reading it. I feel like I talked to so many people about this fic and I want to thank everyone for supporting me! First of all, thanks to everyone who liked and reached out to me after I sent that ask to @duskholland. I had no intention of writing it, but after all the feedback, I had to do it! Biggest thank you ever goes to miss impulsive gemini aka @sinisterspidey for editing this and beta reading it! You're a boss, chlo! Another big one goes to my bday girl @worldoftom who helped me with editing and HYPED me up to finally post this. Also, lovely @hypnotized-so-mesmerized and @nowayhomeparker for jumping in with a few ideas. I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, I am vvvv excited to read your comments!

♡ Ily and happy reading ♡

“Are you nervous?” Your friend and coworker Natalie asks. You’re sitting in front of the large vanity mirror, LED lights showering you with brightness. This is probably your favorite part of the night - putting your makeup on in the right places, transforming into someone else for an evening. But, no matter how much you love doing this, going up on that stage makes your heartbeat rampant. You just smile at her, trying to hide the fact that indeed you are nervous.

“You’re going to be amazing.” She tightens her arms around you, leaving a trace of her glitter on your body. You watch her as she starts removing her wig, humming to the barely audible music from the stage. You’re the newest addition to the current setup, so everyone is being especially nice to you, always asking you if everything’s okay, offering help whenever you need it.

You don’t exactly hate your job.

Sure, it isn’t something that you ever thought you’d do, but here you are, trying to smear the right amount of highlighter over your chest and shoulders. Since backstage was a bit too crowded, you put on your headphones and play the song you’re about to dance to help you relax in the process. After six months, you still get a little nervous before going on that stage. Even though your coworkers often say there’s no reason for it, customers are either too drunk or too thrilled to see you and enjoy your talent. Still, you can’t control your nerves and you need music to stay calm. And sometimes you like to go through the dance routine again before going on stage.

Yes, your dream has always been to be a dancer. You've been showing talent since you were little. Some would say that you first started dancing, and then began walking. However, when you finally started dancing professionally, you never believed that you would do it without clothes. On the pole. In a strip club.

The salary is good. Customers are mostly decent. When, in rare cases, they aren’t, you can always count on the help of the security. You see this job as something temporary, until a better opportunity arises.

The club you work in is extremely popular. The owner made quite a reputation for himself and his club, so people from all parts of London often come to visit the famous “Cherry on Top”. All of the dancers have their own ‘thing’. You’re all shiny, oily, and sexy, and yet every one of you have your own flair. Ruby, who you’re the closest with, is on stage at the moment. She’s best known for her impressive pole skills. You witness her muscular arms holding her entire body on the pole, swinging and swaying. She was the first one who accepted you into the club and offered to give you some tips about pole dancing and flirting with customers.

Once she’s done with her routine, it’s up to you. You watch her collect the money from the floor, thanking the audience and running backstage.

As she passes by you, she whispers, “show them what they came for”, before running off with a wink.

Being the only professionally-trained dancer in the current setup, you made a name for yourself fairly quickly. Everyone already knows that they can expect a great show from you. You don’t only display your body, but also your talent. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. The owner of the club recognized your talent and enthusiasm and made you his main star.

You try to always put on a great show for your audience. Every Thursday night is your night - it’s the night when you do your routine for the first time. And then, you do the same the following Friday and Saturday nights. This time, you picked a rather unconventional outfit for a strip club.

You decide to start dancing wearing a suit. Under your loose-fitted black suit, you’re wearing the tiniest pair of lingerie, with jewels and matching pasties for your breasts. Getting naked in front of an audience was a bit odd at first, but you’re used to it by now. The owner of the club has strict rules and lots of security so you and the girls always feel safe. If someone is causing trouble or tries something that you aren’t comfortable with, all you need to do is to give a quick nod to the security and that guy will be out of the club in the next few seconds.

As you’re finally getting ready to get on the stage, you wink at Tuwaine, the security guy working today. He stands next to the stage, watching carefully over all of the customers, making sure everything is right and stays right throughout the night. You walk slowly up the few stairs until you’re finally on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, Tuwaine set up a chair in the middle of the stage. It’s not unusual for you to use props while dancing, but you’ve been excited for this routine for the entire week. You spot Ruby and Natalie at the bar, giving you thumbs up and cheering for you. They never miss your performances.

The lights are off and once you hear the first beat of the song, you take your place on stage and wait for the lights to come back. You stand in the center of the stage, keeping both hands raised above your head. The chair stands next to you with one of your legs on it, while you stand firmly on the floor with the other.

With the first ray of pink and purple lights you start moving, seductively swaying your hips, but only lightly at first. At the same time, you slowly move your right hand across your left one all the way down to your shoulders.

As soon as the lights are completely on, your movements become more noticeable, stronger and more precise. You drag your right hand over the entire length of the leg that is on the chair. You finally move and strut provocatively behind the chair and caress the back of it with your hands while checking the crowd.

The first piece of clothing you throw away is your hat and you throw it at a table where several young men are, one of them obviously having a bachelor party. You wink at him and turn back to the center of the podium.

You get out of your suit jacket and since your eyes are now finally used to the bright lights you take a moment to look a bit through the crowd. You’re so used to doing this every week, so that you don’t even miss a beat now while exploring the faces of visitors.

Your dancing consists of lots of seductive movements--grinding on the pole, provocative thrusts with your hips, and lots of you touching your body. You want the audience to imagine their hands instead of your own. You love to be in touch with your body, to use your every little move to your advantage. While other dancers usually pick popular hip hop and trap songs, your taste is a bit different. You prefer dancing to softer, slower, more sensual tunes.

There is something about all that attention that you get when you are on stage--being the only thing that the sea of watching eyes is focusing on. Controlling them with your moves. Listening to gasps, moans, and applauses every time you peel off another layer of your clothes. The thought of being their fantasy, the center of their desire, excites you.

The room’s filled with guys, and sometimes girls, too. Every night there are a variety of customers. Businessmen, tech nerds, college boys, bachelorettes, middle-aged men who bring their sons, middle-aged men who want some fun, older guys, younger guys, politicians, celebrities, but also your neighbors. This night isn’t any different.

You recognize some familiar faces, the usual customers who are there almost every night. You nod to Gary, the nice guy who brings you flowers and offers to walk you home every night after you’re done with work. He never tried anything, and he never even paid for a private booth with you. He only brings you flowers and sometimes cards for your birthday or holidays.

Just as you are about to turn around and sit on the chair, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while. He’s sitting at the table behind Gary’s, while pink, purple, and blue lights illuminate him. And he’s looking at you. Once your eyes finally lock, he gives you the cutest smile. He’s wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, slightly unbuttoned to put his perfect chest on display. You quickly turn around, trying to hide the smile that he most certainly caused. It is not unusual for you to find someone cute in the audience, but this guy is truly something else. From the moment you saw him your heart started drumming and it’s no longer in sync with music. It’s beating faster, doing it’s own thing.

You slowly take off the lower part of the suit, and the cheering of the customers becomes so loud that it emphasizes the music. You sit on the chair and turn towards them and smile as soon as you make eye contact with any of the customers. But still, your smile is most sincere when it meets his honey-colored eyes. You can't describe exactly what attracts you to him so much and why you can't look away.

Is it because of his beautiful face, piercing eyes, or lips that are twisted into the most seductive smile? Is it because of the fact that he sits so casually, and again so masculine, strong, dominant? He is not sitting alone, and there are a couple of other young men at the table with him, two of them that look so much like him and another blonde sitting closest to him. But none of them radiate the same energy as him.

You have to remind yourself, again and again, that you have to dedicate your attention to other customers and take your eyes off of him. At that moment, you are only in a white shirt, and as you reveal one of your shoulders, you hear more and more sighs from the audience. The bottom of your shirt flares enough for all of them to see your shiny pink thong. The dance floor is already flooded with money, but they keep throwing you some more.

You slowly unbutton one shirt at a time and once again look at the mystery hot guy. As you do this, your hips move to the beat of the music and the speed at which you unbutton follows the rhythm. He can't take his eyes off you, as his eyes follow your hands like a magnet. And that's why you decide to tease him. You slowly move your hands from the already unbuttoned shirt and run them along the inside of your thighs. Spreading your legs apart and running your hands painfully slowly over your heat you can see him licking his lips, eyes glued on you. It’s almost like his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights.

You play with the hem of your underwear, teasing the audience, but more so teasing him. He now has a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing it tight, so tight his knuckles are turning white. As much as this teasing is fun, it is that part of the song when you go up on the pole. You get off of the chair and finally take off your shirt.

As you throw away your shirt, you stand next to the pole taking your position and get ready to hop on it. The men howl at the sight of you clasping both of your legs around the pole and grinding upwards using the strength in your upper arms. Once you get high enough, you unclasp your legs from the pole and start slowly swinging back down, holding yourself with both of your hands.

Quickly, you hook your right leg over the pole and hold it tight with your thigh muscle, releasing both of your hands from the pole, and using all of your strength to keep yourself on the pole with just your leg muscles. It took you some time to master the art of pole dancing. You still considered yourself a beginner, but it was fun. It brought more tips.

And now, it’s time for the big move--you’re supposed to turn upside down, hook your right arm over the pole and do a split. It’s a move you kept practicing with Ruby for the past few weeks and now you finally decide to try it. Turning upside down is easy; the harder part is doing a split from this position. In that moment your eyes wander to the mystery cutie and his eyes haven’t left your body, not even for a second. As your legs start spreading apart, his head is slowly moving forward, he’s totally lost in you, watching you in awe with his mouth slightly open.

Almost perfectly synchronized with your legs, his body leans forward. When you finally do the whole split, you notice an almost proud smile on his face. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance only for him and his eyes only.

When you're done with the pole portion of your routine, you slide down, grinding your ass on it. You smirk at all the bills the customers keep throwing at you. You lean your back against a cold, metal pole and start grinding your ass up and down. Almost everyone in the club is cheering for you, but he’s the only one you care about, the only one you’re looking at.

And you’re also the center of his attention. The boys around him are talking but he’s not leaving you out of his sight. He brings one of his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it a bit more and you notice the rings he has on his fingers. You run your hands up and down your body, while grinding, imagining your hands were his and the pole behind you was his lap.

Your song is almost over, so now it's time for the grand finale. You get up from kneeling next to the pole and strut your way a bit closer to the group of excited men in the front row. You turn around, bend over a bit, and slowly run your hands over your butt cheeks. You move your hands over your hips, waist, all the way to your shoulders. With an innocent expression you turn your head around to face them as you tug your bra strap. And with a faux surprised look on your face you do the same thing with the other strap.

Everyone in the room is howling now, and you finally unclasp your bra and throw it away in the crowd. You can’t help but smile at their reaction. No matter how many nights you do this, that feeling never goes away.

You turn around to face them now, and the first person you look for is the mystery guy. His eyes are now glued to your exposed breasts, only covered by two glitter pasties. He looks up to you and genuinely smiles, with an open mouth, his tongue slightly peeking from the edge of his lips. And then he does the hottest thing you’ve seen in a while--subtly, he tilts his head a bit, and burns through you with his eyes. The right corner of his mouth twitches and moves upwards, forming a devilish smirk. He nods at you, so fast and subtle that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

You slowly get lower until you are on all fours, face down, ass up, twerking to the sound of beat. You smile to the guys around you, but you can’t help but feel a bit sad because you can no longer see the one you care about the most. Since the song will be over in a couple of seconds, you do another split, this time on the floor, close to your audience. You pick some money from the floor and throw it all over your head.

Slowly, the lights go off and you wait for the stage lights to completely shut down on you and rush backstage, trying not to drop any tips that you collected while dancing. You try to take one last look at the mystery hot guy, but the people around you are standing up, chatting, moving around, or dancing. The little wave of sadness rushes over you and you feel a slight embarrassment in hoping that he’d be waiting for you, cheering for you, or something else.

♡♡♡

After your performance, you quickly change into something more decent and hurry to get out to the bar for a few drinks. Or, to be completely honest, look for the curly haired guy. It’s not like you plan to do anything with him, you just want to look at him a bit more, admire his pretty face and his smile.

Unfortunately, you can’t find him. Your eyes travel from one part of the room to the other, but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, superstar!” You can hear Ruby waving at you and inviting you to join her and Natalie at the bar.

“That was so hot! I got turned on, can’t even imagine how these wankers were feeling,” you hear Natalie from behind and, judging by the way she is hanging around your neck, she’s a bit tipsy.

“Thanks, turning you on was my main intention.” You and Ruby smile at her and order your drink while listening to Natalie gushing about Tuwaine, speaking about how sexy and beautiful he is. She always does this, speaking more to herself, every night after she gets a bit drunk. They have some sort of friends with-benefits, complicated relationship, and you know way too many details about it --way more than you want.

You just roll your eyes at Natalie giving him heart eyes and whisper to Ruby, “Uhm, did you, by any case, notice a ver…”

“OMG, here he comes, I can’t talk to that arsehole right now!” Natalie practically screams near your ear and leaves the two of you confused. Once Tuwaine approaches you, her behavior suddenly becomes clear.

“What was that?” he asks, “Nevermind, Y/N, someone asked for a private booth with you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“What? Fuck, I told the boss I want to stop doing that.” You aren’t very fond of private booths. It’s one thing to be on stage, distanced from everyone, enjoying yourself and flirting with them while dancing. You don’t even mind occasionally strolling through the audience and making small talk with the customers. But being face-to-face with a customer always makes you nervous. The rules are strict – no touching, no kissing, and absolutely, in no circumstances, any kind of sex. And you’re thankful for those rules. Every booth even has a camera installed, something else you like.

“Yeah, he knows, but this is a very important client and he asked specifically for you.” You’re left confused and drain your drink before you go get ready.

“Who is that client anyways?” You ask while coughing a bit since the shot you just drank was a bit too strong.

“Someone from the Holland family.”

“From what?” You ask, having no idea who they are talking about.

“Oh my God, THE Hollands?” Ruby almost spills her drink all over her once hears the name.

“Who are the Hollands?” You are still clueless, but from the look on Ruby’s eyes, you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t know who the Hollands are.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who they are; they own, like, all of London. No one knows how they got so rich--probably some illegal stuff involved. Dad and four sons. I had no idea they’re here. Oh my God, please be safe, they might be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl, Ru, I can take care of myself. But thanks. If anything goes wrong, I can count on this guy anytime.” You throw your hand over Tuwaine’s shoulders. You really have a genuine friendship, and whenever it’s his shift, you feel more safe.

“Yeah, yeah, but you better hurry up.”

“I am, I am, thanks T.” The last thing you want right now is to go and dance for some stranger, and especially not for some fishy millionaire. You’re tired and you want to spend some time with your friends and get a couple of drinks. As you walk backstage to change your clothing, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed over the fact that just a few minutes ago you were looking for a cute guy who watched you dancing. What were you even thinking could happen? The owner of the club is always very clear - no sleeping with customers, not even after the show. He doesn’t want any allegations or anyone to think that his girls are up for anything other than dancing.

You put a pink wig on your head and pick a baby pink lace thong and a bra with rhinestones on it and rhinestone fringes falling from the bra cups all the way down to your thighs. You add a little lacy garter on your right thigh, and opt for a pair of five inch heels. After one last look in the mirror, you finally feel pleased with the way you look, and start walking towards the area with the private booths. Just as the name `private` says, the area is separate from the rest of the club. The club has six private booths, and almost all of them are always occupied. You nod to the security guy waiting in the hall, and get inside the booth where you’re supposed to be for the next fifteen minutes.

Every booth looks the same--round room with mirrors instead of walls, bordered with leather red furniture. A mini round white dance floor with a pole is located in the middle of the room, and it’s surrounded by the red couch. The lights are dimmed, and red, black and white colors dominate the room.

At first, you can’t see the face of the guy sitting in the center of the room. You can only trace the silhouette of his spread legs. The first thing you notice is his hands, holding the glass of whiskey. There are rings on his fingers and you’re sure you’ve seen them already. Once you’re close enough and you can clearly see his face, you recognize him right away. It takes you a lot to hide your smile, but you probably didn’t do a good job hiding since the first words he tells you are.

“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice sounds even hotter than you could ever imagine, mixed with soft R&B music that is pulsating lightly in the background.

“No one other than you, baby boy.” This is a line you used a lot before, but for the first time in a while you’re actually thinking it. He chuckles at your remark, still wearing that cocky smirk on his face.

You can’t believe that you’re face to face with him now. And that you’re about to dance for his eyes only. You get up on the dance floor and now you’re standing above him. Just looking down at him turns you on so much. You start swaying your hips to the beat, not breaking eye contact with him. He brings his cigar next to his mouth and your eyes are following his every move. The way his jawline tenses while he inhales the smoke drives you crazy.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, smoke coming out of his mouth and his voice sounding a bit raspier thanks to it.

“Six months.” Usually, you don’t answer personal questions, but there's something about him that makes you open up to him. It’s not just his looks. It’s the way he is sitting, looking, and talking to you. It makes you a bit nervous, vulnerable, but also excited.

“I used to come here more often, can’t believe I never saw you before.”

“Well, you’re seeing a lot of me now,” you wink and turn around. He can now watch your barely covered ass, but you can still see his face on the mirrors around you. And his eyes follow your every move like he’s hypnotized.

“What are the rules now? I haven’t been here in a while.”

“No touching, no kissing, no fucking. Just watching.” You say, as you slowly sway around the pole.

“You can undress, right?” He asks, his eyes lingering on you.

“Yes. Do you want me to?” You grab one of your bra straps, and pray he’ll say yes.

“Not yet. Can I ask you something while you dance?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be honest?” You start moving up and down the pole, now facing him and your back pressed to the pole.

“Anything for you, baby boy,” you wink at him and try to seem as calm and collected as possible. Everything inside you is burning now, palms sweating and legs shaking. You still cannot believe you’re one-on-one with the most beautiful guy you ever saw. And by the glint behind his honey eyes, he is just as infatuated with you. You can feel yourself getting turned on from dancing and from him.

He sits comfortably on the huge bed. His legs are spread, and between them his hand holds a glass of whiskey. You watch the way he brings it up to his mouth, the way his lips spread and the peek of his light pink, wet tongue. You can't help but imagine how much better his tongue would feel on your ass, instead of this cold metal.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, once he gulps one big sip of whiskey, not even a little twitch in his eyes after swallowing the bitter beverage.

“Oh straight for the hard questions. My name is Destiny,” you smile and he smiles back. It catches you a little bit off guard how much his face softens once he smiles.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Hi, my name is Tom, what’s your name?”

“Hi Tom, my name is Cherry,” you get on all of your fours now, crawling towards him. You stop once you get to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for his next move. Tom lifts up from his seat and leans closer to you, now only inches apart from your face. All of your senses immediately focus on his perfume. He smells sharp, warm and sexy, like vanilla mixed with cigarettes. Not breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for his back pocket, takes a bill and rolls it.

“How about now?” he asks and brings the rolled bill next to your face. Since you’re still on your fours, the only way you can get your tip is if you take it with your mouth. Slowly, you open your mouth and take the bill from his hands. While you do that, you gaze into his eyes and notice the way they get darker, more lustful as you remove the money from his fingers with your teeth.

In a split second it almost seems like he starts leaning forward, like he wants to kiss you, but you quickly hop on your knees and stand up.

“Harmony,” you say as you pull the bill out of your mouth and hook it under the thong, “or Doll, or Spice, or…”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” He says, now sitting back like he used to. “I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve never seen you before.”

“Thank you, Tom. This might be your lucky night.” You try to tease him, but you’re still thinking about how sweet he seemed as he apologised. For a supposed extremely wealthy criminal millionaire, he is way too kind. And that turns you on even more.

You wrap your hands around the pole and start swinging, performing your usual routine. And for a few minutes he just sits there and watches you. For the entire time you’ve been in the booth with him, he always had his full attention on you. Tom watches your every curve, every move, every gesture. You reach to remove your bra, and with a slight nod, he gives you the approval to do so.

Once again you’re naked in front of him, his eyes leave yours and your nipples become the center of their attention. They’re so hard for him that it almost hurts. He can now clearly see how turned on he’s got you, and a smirk lingers on his face.

You tease him a bit more and run your hands over your breasts, fingers gently caressing your nipples and slightly pinching them. Tom shakes his head and whispers something to himself. The music is a bit too loud for you to decipher; the only word you can hear is “fuck”. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you want him to do to you right now. He takes one big smoke of his cigar and runs his long fingers over his thighs, silver and gold rings shining under the low lights. The pants he wears are so tight that you can see the way every muscle on his leg flexes to the rhythm of your dancing.

Your hands travel down to your thigh and just as you grab the garter, you hear him say, “Leave that on.” And you do as he tells you.

“Do you like working here?” he asks and now you sit on the edge of the dancefloor. You spread your legs a bit, just to tease him. You’re still positioned slightly higher than him, so that his face is now on the same level as your core.

“Yes. Do you like doing whatever you do?” You decide to play his game. No matter how much your friends warned you about him, somehow you feel safe enough to ask him that.

“Actually, no. My turn now, have you ever desired a customer?”

“Yes.” And you spread your legs a bit wider as you tell him that.

“Am I one of those customers?” Tom is once again too close to you, looking up at you with a devilish smile.

“You really want to know that?”

“I’m dying to know that,” and the smirk is now gone, he is playfully smiling at you, lighting the entire room as he does that.

“And why would you like to know that, huh? Does the thought of me getting wetter and wetter and touching myself while thinking about you turn you on?”

“What if I tell you that it does?” He leans so close to you, you can almost feel his breath on your inner thighs.

“In that case, my answer is maybe, but maybe not.” You enjoy playing this game with him way too much. And you are fully aware how dangerous everything is, but you just can’t stop flirting with him. The thought of him being turned on by you, the way he moves his hands over his legs, adjusting his shirt, the way his chain moves up and down as he is breathing, everything exhilarates you. You never behave like this with other customers. There was something about Tom, some magnetic force that keeps pulling you to him, from the moment you first saw him.

You can’t decide if it is his smile, his hands, his chest or the way his fingers kept holding and playing with the cigar, drawing all of your attention to them. Or maybe it’s about his innocent eyes and the fact that they are so contrary to his wicked smirk and sinful words coming out of those pretty pink lips.

You are in trouble, you can tell right away, but you love it.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asks, finally breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.”

“Can you do one of those splits like you did on the stage?” He asks so innocently, yet so demanding.

“Yes,” you say and you spread your legs wide, sitting on the edge of the improvised dance floor waiting for his next move. He takes one big gulp of his whiskey, a little drop coming down on his chin and dripping on his bare chest. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, just licks the excess from his lips with his wide, pink, skilled tongue. You can't stop looking at that wet spot on his chest, traveling down to the unbuttoned area of his chest. At one point you even feel a bit jealous of that drop, since it can explore his body the way you never could.

“Show me.” Tom doesn’t have to tell you what he wants to see. It feels like you can read his body language perfectly. You do what you’re told. You grab your panties and pull them slightly to the side, exposing yourself completely in front of him. It’s surprising, even to you how wet you actually are. This never happens to you, so you can’t help but smile to yourself. As you move your panties to the side, you lightly brush your clit with your fingertips and your legs twitch. You let out a soft moan but quickly manage to keep your cool.

You are dying for him to touch you, to do anything to you, but you know damn well it’sagainst the rules. You can’t even bring him home after work, because that can put a bad reputation on the club and the last thing you want right now is to lose your job.

“You have no idea how much I want to taste you.” he mutters. The thought of him tasting you brings shivers to your spine.

“Unfortunately, if you do that I might call security.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tom answers almost mechanically, not even fully listening to you, his eyes completely lost in your pulsating cunt.

“See this little red dot on the ceiling,” you say and finally pull your panties back in their place, covering yourself. He looks up, “That’s a camera over there. So if you lay even one finger on me, the security will come bursting in here.”

“I think that is the last thing we both want, right pretty girl?”

“So you better behave yourself, Mr. Holland.” Tom raises his eyebrow the moment he hears his last name coming out of your lips. In that moment you realize that he never actually told you his full name. You felt your heart drumming a little bit faster in your chest. You’re wondering if you crossed any lines with your last sentence.

“Don’t you think that it’s quite unfair how you know my full name and yet I know nothing about you?” He teases, while adjusting and rolling up his sleeves a little bit. You feel an instant wave of relief mixed with joy.

“I can’t give you my name, but I can give you a lap dance instead.” You offer, daring him with your eyes to say yes.

“Only if you want to,” and you do. You can’t even begin to explain how much you want to grind on him, feel him under you, tease him, play with him and drive him crazy. You don’t tell him anything, you just stand up and start walking towards him.

You turn around and steadily start winding your hips and getting lower, until you can feel his thighs on your heat. The only thing you’re wearing right now is a tiny pink thong, which is more than revealing. He can see everything and you decide to use that in your advantage.

You keep switching your moves, swaying to the rhythm, leaning forward so that he could see your entire behind. Fortunately for you the room has mirrored walls so you can see his face for the entire time, even now, when you’re not facing him. He is leaning back on the bed, his eyes completely lost in your body, observing your every move. Whenever you lean forward and reveal more of your ass, you feel his thigh twitch and flex under you. And oh, does that feel good. You’re trying really hard to grind on his thigh and to do that subtly. You’re desperately trying to get some friction, some release and motion.

It’s undeniable that you’re turned on right now. You don’t even care that he can obviously tell that as well, since you can feel the wet traces you’re leaving on his thigh. The music is quietly murmuring through the speakers as you move your body perfectly in sync with the beat. Suddenly you feel something cold, a strange, sharp object running up and down your spine. At first you think it must be your nerves, but once you feel it again, you turn around to face him.

“You know I said no touching?”

“I am not touching you, gorgeous,” Tom says and he brings his hands forward, right above your thighs. He brings the back of his hands so close to both of your thighs but his skin is not touching yours. There isn’t any skin to skin contact, the only thing touching you are his large rings. And he runs his hands like that all over your inner thighs, the cold metal making your skin melt. You feel goosebumps as you watch his hands in awe. His fingers are long, bony with a few tiny veins popping on them. As he moves you manage to notice his bruised knuckles and those make his hands looking even more captivating.

“Are those for me?” He asks and you twitch a little, you didn’t expect him to talk, you got so lost in your thoughts about his fingers on you. Inside of you.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and finally turn your whole body, straddling him completely with just a few inches between your faces.

“The wet traces you left all over my thighs? Are those for me?”

“Yes,” you say as you watch a proud grim appearing on his face. It is too late to pull back now, even though you have no idea what he’ll do next.

He keeps his hands next to his body but you can see the way his biceps is tensing through his thin shirt. He wants to touch you just as much as you want him to do so.

“Also, about that question you have been dying to know the answer…” you say and notice the way he furrows his eyebrows while waiting for what you have to say next, “the answer is yes.”

His eyes are now completely lost on your lips. He swipes his tongue over his pink, chapped lips and leans in. Instinctively you lean forward as well. You feel his nose brushing over yours and you close your eyes, completely forgetting where you are and that you are in a club and that he is just a customer. You pull back a little once you’re aware of that and hear him whisper on your lips. “Wait here one second for me, okay?”

You nod and stand up so that he can move. He furiously storms out of the booth, not even turning back, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you do something wrong? Nervously waiting for him or for anyone to come back, you start walking from one corner of the room to the other.

After what feels like forever, you grab your bra and start to untangle the little jewels and beads. Maybe you’re a fool for trusting him and revealing way too much, but you decide to get dressed and look for him. Just as you finally untangle the last bead, you can hear someone walking inside the booth.

“Hey, I was just about to…” and you can’t even finish your sentence, as he interrupts you with his lips. Crashing them into yours, finally.

You never experienced a first kiss like this. He isn’t going slow or taking his time. He presses his lips hard on yours, not wasting any second now. Almost instantly he flicks his tongue over your lips and you part them, letting him in. The moment his tongue touches yours you can taste the alcohol mixed with mint. His tongue feels soft and warm as it eagerly glides over yours.

You’re so focused on his tongue and his lips that you haven’t even noticed that his hands are now all over your exposed back. His hands are cold, almost as cold as those rings felt on your skin. It’s such a sharp contrast between his warm tongue and his cold hands. As they trail down to your ass and squeeze it lightly you moan into his mouth. It’s almost like the sound of that moan was your call back to sanity and you pull away from him immediately.

“We can’t, I might lose my job, the owner will be so mad at me,” you blurt this all out while trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Tom says and you blink at him, still not fully understanding what he’s trying to tell you. You open your mouth, trying to come up with the next question and he gives you the answer before you can even ask him. “You work for me now, I just bought the club.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you that. You smile at first, thinking that he must be joking but the more you stare at his dead serious face the more you are convinced that he actually did buy the entire club because of you. Just for you.

“Fuck…” is the only thing you can say before you crash your lips onto his now. You can finally touch him and you do that carefully, dragging your palms over his jawline and delicately placing your fingers onto his soft hair. His hair feels so soft under your touch, almost as soft as his tongue. You still cannot believe that you’re kissing the hot guy who you were eye-fucking with just an hour ago, so you open your eyes just to make sure that this is all real. And it’s almost like he felt what you did, so he opens his eyes, too. You smile at this and break the kiss.

“What?” Tom asks, stealing a little peck while he waits for your answer.

“Nothing,” you smile, running your hands up and down his while he is holding you by your waist.

“You want this, right?”

“Yes,” you put your lips on his and moan into his mouth and bite his bottom lip. As you start kissing him again, your hands travel down to his shirt. Without breaking the kiss your fingers start working quickly to remove his shirt. Once he’s out of his shirt you can see the way his chiseled abs are moving up and down as he is breathing. You trace your finger over his chest all the way down to his abs and he leaves a small moan into your mouth.

As he breaks the kiss, he throws his shirt on the floor and starts sucking on your neck, leaving cold wet traces underneath your ear. He has no problems finding your sweet spot and sucking on it even harder. There will most definitely be a mark, but at this point, you don’t even care.

Your hands move to his zipper, but he stops you.

“Turn around, take off your panties and bend over while you’re doing it.” He tells you sternly, and you just nod in response.

You turn around and grab the waistband of your panties and start pulling them down slowly, revealing more and more of you. They’re soaked with your wetness, and as cold air hits you down there you start clenching at nothing. You take one look at Tom and throw your panties at him. You want to catch him off guard, but he somehow manages to catch them. He doesn’t even look at them, just quickly puts them in his pocket.

“I want you to touch yourself, just like you would later while thinking about me.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” You turn around to face him and chuckle.

“I saw the way you were looking at me while you were dancing over there, princess. Also, I have this as proof,” and he points to his pocket, where he put your panties.

You spread your legs and lay on the dance floor. Taking your time, you move one of your hands slowly over your breasts. You try to maintain eye contact with him while running your fingers up and down your stomach. Almost involuntarily you start clenching and you can feel your belly tensing under your fingers. Tom looks so hot, sitting down, taking one more sip of whiskey, shirtless, the only thing he has on his upper body being his silver chain. You were naked in front of him for the majority of this evening and yet he is once again too lost in you. If you thought you had him wrapped around your fingers while you were dancing, you were wrong. Now it almost feels like you’re hypnotizing him with his movements. You can swear he even stopped breathing, waiting for you to finally start touching yourself down there.

You take a lot of time to finally get your fingertips where he wants them. You can’t help but look over at his chest, his glowy skin as you’re running your fingers over your own. Still, you’re not touching yourself, you’re just running fingers over your folds, slightly spreading them so he can have the better view of you entirely. You’re so turned on that even this slight movement gets your fingers moist.

“Rub your perfect clit for me, princess,” he says, now propped up on his elbows, eyes dark and focused.

Slowly, you start rubbing small circles over your swollen bud. From the moment you touch your over sensitive clit you start moaning. There is no way you can stand propped on your elbow now, so you lay back down and break eye contact with him for the first time that night. Yet, now you can focus more on his voice and his silent moans, mixed with your louder ones.

You don’t want to go too fast, because then all of this will be over too soon. You tease your entrance with your index finger, just a little bit to collect your wetness and spread it over your clit, making your movements even easier. This feels so good and you don’t want to stop. You can’t slow down now, you’re too close to the edge.

“Slower, I don’t want you to cum like this.” You lift your head up to look at him. He is palming his cock through his tight pants, clearly very impatient and yet he decides to tease and torture both of you.

And you run your fingers over your clit gently and slowly. Yes, this feels good but you want his hands instead of yours. Those slim, lean and bony fingers, you want them on you, rubbing and fucking you.

It is so hard to keep yourself calm and away from cuming. If you open your eyes you’ll see him, shirtless, with the exasperated look on his face and his chest flexing with every small breath he takes. If you close your eyes, you’ll imagine his fingers, those rings and bruised knuckles buried deep inside of you, rubbing you instead of your own.

“Put two fingers inside,” and you do as he tells you. Your fingers go inside with such ease. As you start moving them inside, the sound of wetness echoes the room. Almost instantly, your hips start bulking up, trying to squeeze your fingers even deeper. You’re hitting just the right spot and start shaking, your movements becoming sloppier and faster.

“Are you close?” he asks.

“Fuck...yes.” You can barely answer, your words mixed with moans.

“Then stop.” It takes you a lot of willpower to stop, now that you’re so close to reaching that high. But you listen to him. You are so sensitive and close to your orgasm that it takes you a few seconds to calm down and stop shaking. Eventually, you get up on your elbows, with your legs still spread and hanging down from the edge of the dance floor.

After what seems like a century, he finally stands up and comes closer to you. Tom is smiling and bringing the glass with what’s left of his whiskey in his hand. You watch his every move and breathe fast, still trying to calm yourself down from that previous edge. He walks towards you and comes near the edge of the dance floor, between your legs.

“Open your mouth,” he asks, now standing above you. You look up at Tom and do what he tells you. You watch him as he brings his glass over your mouth and starts pouring some whiskey down on you. It tastes so bitter and warm since the ice already melted a long time ago. As much as you try to catch the most of the strong beverage with your tongue, a few drops start leaking down your chin all the way to your breasts. You gulp it down, wincing as it burns on your tongue and down your throat. He chuckles at your reaction and slowly pushes you down on your back again.

Tom puts the glass next to you and starts kissing down your neck until he reaches your niple, covered with whiskey. He sucks on it, licking it clean. It feels so good, the way his warm tongue traces over your nipples. You’re squirming and moaning under his mouth and nothing but a few “oh my gods” and moans escapes your lips. Tom’s skilled fingers are playing with your other nipple while he is still licking your other one, making sure to lick all of the whiskey off of it.

He takes his time on your nipples. As much as you enjoy him there, you’re burning with desire and want him to help you ease some of the tension that has been building ever since you first laid your eyes on him. Your blood pulsates in every direction, leaving you dizzy, heart beating, breathing heavy and melting under his tongue, teeth and lips on your nipples.

Finally, it feels like Tom decided to end this sweet torture and starts moving lower and lower on you. Without any intention you start buckling your hips when you feel his warm lips glading over your belly.

“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smiles and lifts his head up. He leaves one peck on your pubic bone and completely ignores that area. That sweet place that is yearning for him so much. Instead of kissing, licking or doing anything to your swollen bud, he moves to your inner thighs. Tom leaves plenty of kisses on them, biting and marking your skin, making you his. He is breathing heavily, but his breathing can’t even match yours. Your fingers are now entangled in his curls, guiding him as he keeps sucking on your thighs. He starts moving lower and lower until your hands can’t no longer reach him.

Once you open your eyes, you prop yourself on your elbows. You watch him leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs and once he reaches your lacy garter he puts it between his teeth. Slowly, he begins pulling it all the way down your leg, his hot breath making your skin shiver.

“Aren’t we supposed to be married first?” you ask him once he has you undressed completely. Tom chuckles and brings himself near to your face.

“Don’t you know that I always try to bend the rules?” you moan into his lips and he kisses you. “But, if a lady insists, I can give you one of this,” he lifts his hand up and puts it between the two of you. “I saw the way you were looking at them, you can have one.”

After giving him an ‘are you sure’ look you decide to take it. And since you’re propped on your elbows, the only way you can take the ring for yourself is if you do it with your mouth. Which is exactly what you do. You open your mouth and put his entire index finger inside while not breaking eye contact with him. You look up at Tom, with the most innocent look you could muster. He is not saying anything to you. The only thing he can do is mouth an inaudible ‘oh’ while shaking his head in disbelief.

You wrap your lips around the base of his finger tight until you hook the cold metal ring between them. His fingers are so long, they almost make you gag. You close your eyes while you suck on his finger, pulling out the ring, sliding it over each of his knuckles. You can’t help but imagine that instead of his finger you’re sucking something else. Something bigger. You start moaning and sucking a bit harder. With a wet plop you pull the ring out and open your mouth. You put your tongue out, showing your conquest to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tom says while he watches you hold the ring between both rows of your teeth and lift a hand towards your face. You study his ravenous face while you push each of your fingers through the loop, testing them out and looking for the one that perfectly fits

Finally, he kneels until his face is at the same level as your core. You spread your legs a bit more to give him easier access to your warm core. He licks one long strap, from your clit all the way down your entrance. You can feel him smirking once he feels how wet he got you and he hasn’t even touched you down there yet.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” the vibrations as he talks that close to your clit make you shiver. Tom starts moving his tongue against your clit, flicking it so slowly and lightly, but you are already so worked up, you start jerking your hips almost immediately. He takes his time, licking long straps at first, not putting any pressure on your bud.

Both of you moan as he starts lapping your clit with his tongue, slowly and steadily. Being too sensitive from the previous edge, you can barely hold yourself up on your elbows. He keeps licking your inner lips and occasionally slipping his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. He seems to know what he’s doing, teasing you even more like this. As soon as you start buckling your hips up, he moves his tongue from your pulsating clit to your entrance. Your moans keep getting louder every time he comes back and once again focuses on your clit.

“Will you please let me cum?” Your voice trembles with anticipation.

“Since you’re asking that nicely,” Tom smiles and kisses your lower back before going back to your heat. You’re still not used to how much his face softens when he smiles. But it’s the dark spark in his eyes that turns you on and makes your heart race even faster. It feels like he’s unravelling you with his tongue.

He flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times, before beginning to suck on it. As he does that, you roll your eyes and start breathing even harder. And it’s almost like he knows exactly what to do to you and where to pay more attention. He tries to hold you in place with one of his hands, while keeping your legs apart with others.

You can feel your heat building in the base of your stomach, pulsating. Warmth moves all over your body, coursing through your bloodstream. Tom starts sucking harsher on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His face looks like a wet mess right now, spit and your wetness leaking down on his chin.

“Please don’t stop doing that,” is the only thing you can say before you start falling apart under his mouth. Your hips ride the way his tongue flicks over your clit. You grab his hair with both of your hands and glide over his wet tongue, stimulating your oversensitive pussy, moaning and heavy breathing. It almost feels like a dream, this intensity of the pleasure that came over your body. Tom has to hold your stomach, just to keep you in place so you won’t ruin not even one second of this ecstasy.

Tom helps you ride your orgasm to it’s last drop by keeping his strong, muscly tongue in place, letting you control the rhythm and ride it the way it works best for you. Curses and his name are the only things coming out of your mouth as you come down from your high. Finally, his lips leave your sweetest place and he starts kissing your stomach, nipples, all the way up to your neck. Once he reaches your lips he kisses you hard, teasing you and opening them with his tongue. Instead of kissing you back, he pulls away and whispers over your lips.

“Now get on all fours,” and you do as you're told, with your face down and ass up in the air, facing him. Even though you have your back turned on him, you can still see him if you look at any of the mirrors around you.

He runs his hands over your butt cheeks and playfully smacks your right cheek.

“Is this okay for you?” you nod.

“Can I go a bit harder?” Tom asks while looking at you through the mirror. You nod once again. “I need your words for this, love.”

“Yes.” And as soon as you say that you feel a slight tingling on your cheek as he has finally smacked you. Not too rough, but hard enough for you to quiver. Unexpectedly, this turns you on a lot more than you ever imagined.

“Should I stop, was this too hard?” he asks, with a genuine worry in his voice, soothing the skin where he slapped you.

“Please don’t,” you moan and feel his hand on your cheek again, slightly harder this time. It tingles, the warmth spreading from your cheek all over your lower back. He soothes your skin one more time with his fingertips. So delicately and gently. And it’s almost like those few slaps heightened your already sensitive skin and you can now feel his every movement. As he caresses your cheeks, his fingers tenderly nudge your wet entrance.

You expect his next move, already prepared for the burning sensation but you don’t feel his hands on your ass anymore, “You sure about this?”, he asks and you look up at him in the mirror and see Tom holding a condom in his hands.

“Yes,” you moan and in that exact second you can hear him ripping the condom and positioning himself from behind. You instinctively spread your legs for him, waiting for him to enter you. Tom places one of his hands on your waist, digging his fingertips into your skin. He is moving his dick over your folds, getting him nice and wet before sliding it into you. With every little move that he makes you can feel your belly and thighs clenching.

Only a few more strokes after and Tom gently starts stretching you out with his member. It takes a few seconds for you to get used to his girth and with a loud gasp you let him know that he can start moving now. And once he starts moving it feels so good, so exciting and pleasurable. It feels so fulfilling to finally feel him inside.

Tom takes no time before he is already balls deep inside of you. With every thrust he leaves a deep groan filled with pleasure. One of his hands is still on your hips and you can feel him slightly pushing you upwards, all the way up to his chest, still not pulling out of you. The first thing you feel once your back hits his perfectly toned chest is the way his cold chain is bouncing, caressing and sliding over your warm skin. It is almost embarrassing how turned on you are by him and everything he does. So much that even the way he wears his chain makes you so aroused.

“I want you to watch how beautiful you look while I’m so deep inside of you,” Tom whispers into your ear and as much as you enjoy having your eyes closed, you manage to open them up and see his hand wrapped around your breasts while the other one is trailing down your stomach, his lengthy fingers reaching for your clit.

Thanks to the way the mirrors are hung on every wall in the booth, you can see his movements from every angle. The way every single one of his muscles is flexing, his hips swaying once he is bottoming in and out of you. Once his fingers reach down your pulsating core and starts rubbing the pleasure becomes almost unbearable to you. You reach for his hands to get more stability and start trembling in front of him. The only thing you can see right now is the smug on his face as his merciless fingers and thrusts are making you cum so hard on him. With the loud moan you reach your high and ride it, his fingers finally slowing down but never completely stopping.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you look like an angel,” Tom says and starts leaving warm and wet kisses on your neck and ear, still holding you tight. After a few long and slow thrusts he picks up his rhythm again, that ruthless and fast rhythm that gets you on the edge of another orgasm in no time. After a few thrusts he starts rubbing your clit once again, pressing that lovely spot of pleasure both from the inside and outside.

The wave of pleasure comes even faster now, leaving you no time to adjust or open your eyes and focus on him. His hot breath is all over your shoulder and once you hear his voice, moaning into your ear you can’t help but let go, moaning and thrusting towards his arm this time even harder.

“Tom, please don’t stop,” you moan a desperate cry for more, for another release, another round of pleasure. He picks up his pace and you can feel your legs trembling involuntarily next to his. The familiar surge of another orgasm makes your moans and breathing erratic. Once it finally hits you, you leave a high pitched cry and Tom pushes you down, stopping his movements, just holding you in place.

“Fuck baby, if I start moving now, I’ll cum as well,” he is not thrusting, the only movement you can now feel is his dickf throbbing while still deep inside of you. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror. Your eyes instantly lock with his. You can see the way he smiles at you while there are a few drops of sweat traveling between his chest.

“Cum in my mouth,” as much as you want to keep him inside of you, you also want to taste him. He pulls out of you and you immediately feel so empty while cool air brushes over your folds. Tom stands up and removes his condom while you turn around and starts licking his shaft up and down. You start sucking on it, taking it in as much as you can. Tom puts his hands on your head, but he is not forcing you towards him. He is removing the strands from your pink wig off of your face.

You open your eyes and look up at his face, his eyes shut down and curse words coming out of his pretty pink lips. As you look in the mirror behind him, you can see the way his ass cheeks are tensing, gently fucking your mouth. That sight excites you so much. If you thought you were done after your third orgasm, you were wrong, cause you can feel the familiar pulsating feeling deep down inside of you. You reach down and start lightly pressing on your clit, not going too fast cause you don’t want to lose focus and mess with the way you’re pleasuring him.

“I’m cumming,” Tom says as warm, sharp and salty liquid fills your mouth. You keep moving your head up and down, guiding him through his pleasure. Not stopping until he backs away, trembling from pleasure. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, even though there are still traces of him there. You tried to gulp it all down, but the thickness and saltines of his cum and the way he pulled out of your mouth so abruptly makes you spit a few drops on your chin and chest.

"Sorry…" Tom breathes out as he tries to calm down from his orgasm.

"No, no, it's okay…" your fingers travel down your chest to pick up a few drops of cum sliding down. Your other hand is still down there, pressing your clit and drawing out the heat you felt just a few moments while you were sucking him off.

"Wait, I'll help," Tom kneels down in front of you and picks up the traces of him from your chest. He looks around, "I need to find a tissue to wipe my fingers off," but you grab him by the hand and guide it towards your mouth. You start licking his fingers clean and his face quickly turns from surprised to turned on. He makes sure you lick them all, pushing them deeper and deeper into your mouth, until a few tears form in your eyes. It is only then that he finally notices that you've been teasing and dragging your fingers over your entrance the entire time.

"I fucked you so hard and you still want more, princess? You are insatiable." He quickly pulls his hand out of your mouth and you release a disappointed grunt. But it doesn't last long, because he slides two of his already wet fingers into your pussy.

"Yes…" you moan as he starts picking up the pace. But Tom doesn't go fast this time. He keeps teasing you, pushing his fingers slowly, so deep inside of you and then pulling them in to rub your clit for a few glorious seconds. He repeats this motion way too many times for you to keep up. It’s almost like you’re floating.

You are overstimulated, all of your senses focus on the pleasure he keeps giving you with his fingers. It isn't until he speeds up and starts fingering you that you finally start letting go and giving up to him completely. Tom tries to keep you in place, but your legs are trembling and you are not sure how much longer it'll be for your knees to give up.

"Is this okay?" Tom asks as you feel his long fingers gently wrapping around your neck. You nod and moan, not being able to produce any coherent word. Not quite sure is it his delightful movements on your g-spot, his voice or the way his other hand keeps pressing on the sweet spot on your neck, but in almost no time you can feel the oh-so-familiar feeling finally building up enough to explode.

It’s like you’re in slow motion, the only thing you can feel are his fingers pressing the right spot at the right speed. A loud low growl escapes your lips as you ride the most joyous orgasm you ever felt. Wetness is dripping out of you, all over the floor and him. He kisses you breathlessly, like he never wants to let go of you. You're sure he can still taste himself on your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. Tom looks so hungry for you, cupping your face with that same hand that was on your neck just a few moments ago. Once he stops, he mumbles a little "fuck", his forehead resting on yours.

"Let me help you clean up," you can barely speak, your voice still shaking.

"Of course not, darling, wait for me 'till I get you some towels," Tom hands you your panties from his pocket once he finally pulls his pants up. He doesn't even bother to properly button up his shirt, he just throws it over his shoulders, having his toned chest and that silver chain on display. You can't help but smile once you're on your own. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, but you're more than excited to try it out.

Once he gets back, he immediately starts cleaning your wetness from your thighs, going thoroughly over your skin.

"It's Y/N by the way."

"It feels like we’re doing this backwards, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Tom lifts his head up and gives you a disarming smile.

"I figured, since you're my boss now, it's only fair that you'd know my name, y'know, to sign my paychecks and stuff like that…" you can feel the butterflies forming in your belly and there was no turning back now.

"I know they say that the boss shouldn't have any favorites, but I think I already have one."

"I just hope you won't change your mind once you meet the others," you lift your head up and your bliss gets interrupted once you see one little dot blinking. The red light you completely forgot about. That's when you feel a sudden change in your heartbeat. "Tom, there is a camera up there!"

"So..? I mean is that a problem?"

"Well, if there was anyone in the back office, they could've seen us!"

"I'm sure we gave them one hell of a show," you can't help but feel relieved. The way he handles things that could be a problem somehow makes you feel more attracted to him. You smirk and he starts leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, "speaking of, wanna give them another one?"

"Right now?" You laugh and playfully mess with his curls, completely ruining his hair. Tom lifts himself up and comes near to your face. He leaves a few pecks on your lips. You part your lips and deepen the kiss. His kisses are different now. Less needy. Slower, deeper. Meaningful.

Once he parts his lips from yours, he says "Right now."

"Well, look who is insatiable now," you say and grab his silver chain, pulling him back to you and kissing him once again. Seems like it’s going to be one long night.

♡♡♡

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Taglist: @thefallenbibliophilequote @beverlyparkerr @ladykxxx08 @devotion @dvhling @svturtles @mlmarint @lovelytholland @nehirsu @veryholland @hollandcrush

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland fandom #mcufam #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #mob!tom #red light

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

pregnant.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. Loki x pregnant reader

You woke up with terrible nausea, feeling like the world was flipping you upside down. You laid back, breathing deeply and telling yourself that you were fine. The moment you started to sit up, you felt immensely ill, your stomach churning.

You ran into your en-suite and knelt on the cold tile, getting violently sick and emptying your stomach. You felt hands pull your hair back out of your face, and you were blinded with tears.

Your throat and eyes burned, and you were embarrassed to be throwing up in front of Loki. He held your hair in one hand, rubbing your back with the other, and softly telling you that you were going to be fine.

“I think I’m okay,” you said to Loki, grabbing his forearm as he helped you stand.

“Are you certain?”

You nodded and went to the sink, cleaning yourself up and brushing your teeth. You looked in the mirror and saw Loki start a shower for you, insisting you’d feel better. You felt too weak to argue, and you managed to keep upright and wash your skin and hair.

“I’m exhausted.”

“You can rest soon, my darling,” Loki promised as you slipped on clean pajamas.

You started toward your bed, but Loki lifted you up off your feet. He carried you out of your bedroom, but you were too weak to protest. Your fingers tightened around his soft cloak as you recognized Banner’s lab, a place you hated to end up.

“No,” you shook your head weakly, and Loki consoled you as he set you down on an exam table. Banner walked over, looking at his watch.

“You’re up early. What’s going on?” he asked kindly, and you sighed, explaining that you’d woken up sick that last couple of mornings. He frowned, checking your vitals. Loki sat beside you, holding your hand and gently kissing your knuckles as Banner took a blood sample from your arm.

You snuggled against Loki’s side as he ran some tests, consoled by the young god. He kissed the top of your head and traced tiny shapes on your arms, making you smile.

“Y/N!” Banner gasped, scaring you.

“What?! Am I dying?!” Your eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Quite the opposite actually. Were you aware that you’re pregnant?”

Silence fell over the room, and you turned to Loki with wide eyes. You were anxious to see how he would react to the news. You’d talked about possibly having a kid at some point, but not soon.

“My darling, we’re going to have baby!” Loki gasped, excitement bursting in his blue eyes.

Relief flooded over you at his positive reaction, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re going to be great parents. We can get you started on some prenatal care, and I can give you something for the morning sickness,” Banner smiled at you.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, still trying to process the fact there was a baby in your belly.

A grin stayed on Loki’s face the entire day, and he told everyone in Stark Tower. You giggled at how overjoyed he was, and it helped you feel grounded, settling your worries.

“We are going to have the most beautiful baby,” Loki grinned, kissing your lips before kneeling down and kissing your belly. You carded your fingers through his black curls, and he laid his hands on your stomach, as if he could feel the tiny fetus that was only two months along.

The more pregnant you got, the more overprotective Loki became. He was extremely attentive, and he didn’t let you do anything that required effort. You insisted to him that you were fine, even as you started to need his help standing up, off-balance with your baby bump.

“How far along are you now?” Parker asked as you sat helping him with his homework one evening.

“About eight months. Not too much longer,” you smiled.

“Then I won’t be the youngest here!” he grinned and you shook your head, ruffling his brown hair.

“I know, you won’t be my little baby spider anymore,” you teased, and he pouted, pretending to be offended.

“I’ll always be your baby spider.”

“Finish up this page of your essay, and I’ll help you edit it, okay?”

Parker nodded, and you stood up from the table, walking to the kitchen island to start baking the cookies you’d been craving. Loki walked in, squeezing Parker’s shoulder in greeting as he passed the boy.

“Hi,” you whispered, kissing Loki’s mouth.

“We could’ve had one of Stark’s chefs make cookies. You can rest, my darling.”

“I want to make them.”

Loki hummed, stealing some of the chocolate chips from your bowl. You appeased him by letting the god put them in the oven, protecting you from the possibility of burning yourself. He pulled your back against his chest, laying his hands over your stomach. Your tiny daughter kicked, making Loki smile into your hair.

“She loves you already,” you whispered, making Loki grin.

“I hope so.”

Parker called your name, and you walked over to him and looked over his essay. He stayed for cookies after, hanging around you and Loki for the evening.

“I got you something, Y/N,” Parker said finally, reaching into his bag and pulling out a box. You smiled, gently taking it from him.

“What is it?”

“It’s for baby Freyja, for the nursery” he explained, and you opened the box, grinning at the Brooklyn snow globe inside.

“Oh, Parker, I love it. Thank you.”

You handed it to Loki and pulled your friend into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“You’re welcome.”

Everyone had gone to bed, but the insomnia was keeping you up. You stood in the nursery that was attached to your suite, decorated and ready for your baby girl. You placed the snow globe on a shelf, watching the little flakes fall over the tiny city.

Your fingers smoothed over the crib blankets that were patterned with silver moons and stars, everything faintly reminiscent of Asgard, the home that Loki desperately missed. You picked up a stuffed yellow rabbit that Bucky had given you, along with a blanket.

“Are you nervous?” Loki asked softly, leaning in the doorway.

“A little bit. What if I’m a terrible mother?” you confessed, watching magic patterns move and twist on the wooden bars of the crib.

“Come here, my darling.”

Loki sat down on your rocking chair, pulling you onto his lap.

“You’re going to be amazing, and perfect, and I will be here every step of the way. You’re not alone anymore, you don’t have to handle parenting by yourself.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, gently kissing him before laying your head down on his shoulder.

- six months later -

You heard Freyja cry from the nursery, and you sat up drowsily. It was nearly four in the morning, and you were so exhausted you could’ve wept.

“I’ve got her, go back to sleep, beautiful.” Loki kissed your cheek and slipped out of bed. You laid back down, but your body wouldn’t let you sleep with your child awake.

You wrapped Loki’s green cloak around you and walked into your nursery. Loki was gently rocking Freya in his arms, her black curls unruly on her head and her wide blue eyes the same shade as his. He soothed her with little green seidr stars that flickered and glittered above her face, before twisting into flowers and blooming in the air.

He looked up when you entered, giving you a small smile.

“Look, Freyja, it’s your lovely mum,” he kissed her cheek, and the tiny girl gazed at you, reaching out with her delicate hand.

“Hungry?” you asked her, sitting down in your rocking chair and letting Loki set her in your arms. You slipped the top of your dress down and got her settled and feeding on your chest. Her fingers rested on your skin, and she relaxed as she drank from you.

Loki knelt on the floor beside you, gazing up at you with admiration in his eyes. Your free hand went to his hair, and he leaned into your touch.

“Motherhood suits you,” he noted, and you smiled.

“You’re just happy because you get to see me shirtless more often,” you teased, making him laugh.

“Freyja is lucky,” he grinned, kissing her head.

“She looks like you,” you commented, and he nodded.

“But she has your sweet face.”

“It’s easy now, but wait until she starts performing magic, and she turns your hair gray,” you commented.

“I’ll teach her to use her magic, and never against her mother.”

You smiled at Loki, then down at your daughter.

“I love you both, endlessly.”

#earl grey loki #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki imagine #loki one shot #loki laufeyson fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel au #marvel #avengers #avengers au #loki odinson #female reader

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn’t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #yandere philza x reader #yandere technoblade x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader #technoblade dream smp #philza dream smp #technoblade dreamsmp #philza dreamsmp #phil dream smp #phil dreamsmp #mcyt au #dsmp #mcyt god au

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

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dadsbongos · 3 years

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trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

#bnha x reader #bnha x reader platonic #shota aizawa x reader #shota x reader #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x daughter reader #aizawa x daughter reader #shota x daughter reader #shota x reader platonic

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cloverrover · 3 years

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History Drunk

AN: to the last anon I have, pls send me more requests y'all, I will post it end of tomorrow at the latest. Inspiration for it hasn't hit until now but alas. Until then I wanted to post this because other than my classes and work I've have inspo for nothing else

Warnings: cursing, fluff, slight angst? not beta read so

WC: 748

“Welcome. My friends. History! As you drunk it.” You watch your boyfriend, speak to the camera, making sure that he doesn’t accidentally knock anything over.

Somehow you had gotten Simu to agree to an episode of Drunk History and now you were here, working, in your apartment with a drunk as shit Simu rambling about Genghis Khan and thinking that it’s ok for him to knock over the lamp you had gotten for Christmas.

“Babe. Don’t knock the lamp over.” Looking at him, you give him a hard stare, one that rarely comes out and only when there’s something extremely stupid going on.

“So Khan. Right? Fearsome warrior.”

You’re trying to focus on your job, being a production assistant and all, while also making sure your boyfriend doesn’t out the relationship more than he already has. You had to explain to your bosses why the address Simu had given them, was the same and the one listed in your file. So you weren’t looking forward to editing how much you know you’ll need to.

“Now, how many Marco Polos went to Khan?” He’s smiling at you like you’d know he was talking about the show. And you knew he was talking about the show, something you had wanted to watch with him. But he didn’t need to know that you knew.

“Right babe?” He’s pointing at you now. “You know. Cuz of the show?”

Now he’s giggling much like a school girl trying to hide the obvious glitter mess she made.

“Baby I gotta help work on this episode, then we can cuddle.” You tell him when he starts to make grabby hands at you. But then you still refuse, and he’s pouting. He’ pouting, while your coworkers and bosses are laughing, and this grown man is pouting like a child.

You’re staring at him like he’s grown 3 heads. And to him, maybe he had. But all he knew was that he was happy, was floating, and you were there.

“So right, absolute loyalty, the kind a girl wishes her frat boy had,” insert hiccup, “but he had all kinds of loyalty surround him. Do you know why?” He’s asking you directly, and you know then and there you won’t be working much now. Your goal is to get him to not make too much a fool of himself, or you, and to get through this unscathed.

“Why is that babe?” You sit with him on the couch, giving your work friends a glance they know that tells them they won’t be having your help for the rest of the filming.

“Because,” hiccup, “he was generous. He let those practice their religion, freely, so long as they ultimately bowed down to the great Khan. The Khan ruled all of Mongolia, and if they respected Mongolia, he respected them!”

Mans’ is straight giggling at this point, and, while he isn’t wrong, he’s a giggling mess and you can’t wait to see the episode when it airs. And eventually he moves on through history, though prompted most of the time. The crew is beginning to pack things up when you try to make your way to your room to set aside a few items, when a warm body stops you.

“You should know I have a girlfriend, and this is a no zone.”

Oh Lordie is your boy drunk, and drunk is he entertaining. He doesn’t drink often, so whenever the opportunity arises to watch drunken antics, you cherish it. Even if you don’t drink much yourself. But you’re tired and just want to get in bed, and Simu isn’t letting you.

“Babe I know you have a girlfriend. I am said girlfriend.” Pointing at the picture of the two of you on the wall, Simu only squints at it before a big smile takes over his face. Next thing you know he’s got you in a bear hug and mumbling drunken words about how the love of his is back and how much he missed you.

By the time you’ve finished your nightly routine and go back to the bedroom, Simu is snoring on the mattress. You’re leaning against the doorframe and take a minute to just look at him. You know this man is your endgame. Even when you move, practically, dead weight underneath the covers so he doesn’t get cold in the night. Even when he’s giggling into your neck when you cuddle in close. Even when you’re fighting about nothing and everything important.

Even when.

#simu liu imagine #shang chi #shang-chi imagine #shang chi x reader #simu liu x reader #simu liu fluff #simu x reader #shangqi x reader #I love him so much

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existslikepristin · 3 years

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Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

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