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#if people like it I can always do more I guess
sluttywonwoo · 1 day
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cheol telling you that you should trade - he holds out his credit card to keep in your wallet in exchange for a polaroid of you to keep in his. he didn't expect the photo to be so spicy, but you can both be generous 💋🤑
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you were hesitant but seungcheol insisted. he wanted you to have it just in case you ever needed it. for emergencies! (for treating yourself too but he knew he’d have to work on getting you to do that one).
you obliged, finally, but only after promising to give him something in return.
“what is it?” he asks, trying to peek behind your fingers at your wallet.
“close your eyes!”
“what? baby-”
“close ‘em! and hold out your hand.”
“just one?”
he can hear the mischievous smile in your voice when you giddily say, “yeah, just the one.”
he sighs but does as he’s asked. he owes you this much, after all. and he loves you or whatever.
his face scrunches up in confusion when he feels you place something plasticky in his palm. it feels thin enough to be paper but the texture is wrong. is it… what he thinks it is?
“open!”
it’s a polaroid lying face down in his hand. he had guessed right. this was way better than a credit card and a million times more valuable. he’d always wanted to keep a picture of you in his wallet like everyone used to do. he thought the idea was romantic.
“turn it over!”
he does, eyes almost popping out of his skull when he sees that it’s a mostly naked picture of you. he rushes to cover it before remembering you’re at home, alone, and settling on placing it gingerly on the counter in front of him.
“do you like it?” you ask. you sound nervous but seungcheol has no idea why.
“you’re joking, right?”
“well, you haven’t said anything.”
“all the blood in my head went straight to my dick. there are no thoughts up there, babe.” you snort. “i’m serious. this is so hot, you’re so hot. come here…”
he turns away from the picture to kiss you, using both hands to cup your face so that he can be the one in control. you melt into him easily, letting him lead until you have to pull away to breathe.
“i don’t know how i’m going to keep that in my wallet,” he admits breathlessly.
“just put it behind your license where no one will see it.”
“that’s not what i’m worried about.”
“then what?”
“i’m worried that i’ll get hard every time i pull it out to pay for something, just knowing it’s in there.”
“would that be the end of the world?”
“well, i don’t want people to think i’m getting it up over dry cleaning or lottery tickets or something.”
“if you’re so worried about it, i can always take it back…” you trail off as you reach for the picture but seungcheol snatches it off the counter before you can get a finger on it.
“nope, no take-backs. it’s mine.”
“but you said-”
he clears his throat unsubtly. “i’ll learn to manage.”
you put a hand over your heart in faux-surprise. “you’re so brave.”
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collapsingneutron · 2 days
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Am I the only one who is deeply reminded of Tim Drake every time they see a John Mulaney comedy special?
If John Mulaney was 15 and looked 13, he'd be the prime actor to cast as Tim Drake. Because he has this cynical but boyish charm like he's a 50s professor trapped in a modern boy's body and very self-aware about it. He's seen some shit and done some shit, but he manages to look very put-together.
Here are some actual quotes from John's comedy specials that Tim Drake would totally say if he was writing his autobiography:
On Bruce Wayne:
Tim: Kids, you think your dad’s weird now? Wait for his dad to die. Then he goes on a whole quest.
He’ll wanna take more family pictures, but be angrier during them. “Can we get one photo where we all look nice?”
We’re like, “I don’t think this motherfucker’s doing that well.”
Tim: My dad never hit us. My dad is a lawyer and he was a debate team champion. So he would pick us apart psychologically.
Tim: He was a man most acquainted with misery. He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.
Tim: He didn’t want us to not get kidnapped. He wanted us to almost get kidnapped and then fight the guy off using weird, psych-out, back-room Chicago violence.
On being Robins:
Tim: This was always a very dramatic process – ’cause we were thirteen, we looked nine.
Tim: God, I guess they’re finally going to kill us all. All right. This is younger than I thought I would be but we are pretty big assholes.
Tim: I thought I was going to be murdered my entire childhood. In high school people were like, “What are your top three colleges?”
I was like, “Top three colleges? I thought I would be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”
On being 'the smartest Robin':
Tim: I don’t know what my body is for other than just taking my head from room to room.
Tim, to Bart: Here’s my plan, you and me get very dressed up, including hats, and then we wave handkerchiefs at it until it disappears over the horizon. 
On being Red Robin:
Tim: I was hoping, uh, by now that I would look older but that didn’t happen.
I don’t look older, I just look worse, I think. Honestly, when I’m walking down the street, no one’s ever like, “Hey, look at that man!” I think they’re just like “Whoa! That tall child looks terrible! Get some rest, tall child! You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends!”
On Gotham:
Tim: What a historic and beautiful and deeply haunted building this is. I keep walking through cold spots being like, “I wonder who that used to be.”
Tim: I was coming into my apartment building one night and I saw in front of my building a wheel chair, knocked in its side with no one in it. That’s a bad thing to see. Something happened there… you hope it was a miracle… but probably not… probably something worse.
On staying calm while Gotham is on fire:
Tim: I try to stay a little optimistic, even though I will admit, things are getting pretty sticky.
Tim: I’ll just keep all my emotions right here [points to heart] and then one day, I’ll die.
Tim: And by the way, part of me was like: “Whatever"… you know? You ever have those days where you’re like: “This might as well happen."
On Gotham Rogues:
Tim: He did not look like his job description. He looked like he should be the conductor on a locomotive powered by confetti. But, instead, he made his living in murder. 
On the fracturing of the Batfamily amidst Bruce's supposed death and Tim's search for him:
Tim: It was an intervention. For me. Interventions for me, are my least favorite kind of intervention.
Tim [searching for Bruce while Dick is Batman and Damian is his Robin]:
I, meanwhile, was loose in New York City, not doing well.
On his time with the League of Assassins and Ra's Al-Ghul's interest
Tim: Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. 
Tim: You’re all uncomfortable now, but I’m way over it.
On college:
Tim: I went to college. For the whole time. Holy shit, right? I just got a letter from my college, which was fun ’cause mail, you know? 
And they said… How did they phrase it? They said, “Give us some money!
“As a gift! We want a gift! But only if it’s money.” I found this peculiar.
I went to college, I was 18 years old, I looked like I was 11. I lived like a goddamn Ninja Turtle. I didn’t drink water the entire time.
Tim, at his first frat party: People were drinking like it was the civil war and a doctor was coming to saw our legs off.
Miscellaneous:
Tim, in an argument with Steph: That wasn’t what I was telling you, but alright, lets talk about this entirely new topic.
Tim, when asked if he's been up since yesterday: And I was like: “No” you know, like a liar.
Tim: I went into the room to get the massage and the woman there told me to undress to my comfort level. So I put on a sweater and a pair of corduroy pants, and I felt safe. 
Tim: Those were the choices — salad or fries, the two most different foods in the universe. That’s like saying, “What kinda day do you wanna have? Do you wanna be active and go to the bathroom and stuff, or do you wanna lay on the floor moaning?”
Tim, talking to Kon at 5AM: It was really easy to get away with murder before they knew about DNA. It was ridiculously easy. Like, what was even going on back then? What was a murder investigation like in 1935??
One cop would just walk in and be like, [speaks sharply with an old-timey accent] “Detective! We found a pool of the killer’s blood in that hallway!”
And he would just be like [low voice] “Hmmm… gross! Mop it up. Now then, back to my hunch… [holds chin with hand and looks around the floor] Hmmmmmm…. Look for clues. [stands up straight] I’ll tell you what we’ll do! We’ll draw chalk around the body. That way, [narrows eyes and looks side to side and speaks with a suspicious tone] we’ll know where it was…”
Tim, showing up to brunch at Denny's: Hope you don’t mind that I dressed up. It was my first communion today so I decided to come right from it.
Tim: I was sitting up in bed a few weeks ago like… [groans] You know, life. 
Tim: How did they find out about the inside zipper pocket? That pocket has eluded everyone in my life.
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sports-on-sundays · 2 days
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two for one / LN4 & OP81 / Part 1
Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Takes place from Australian Grand Prix 2024 to Monaco GP 2024.
Warnings: cussing, jealousy, flirty friendship, angst, manipulation, lying, OH THE DRAMA, confusion, mention of throwing up, not feeling well
Requested?: No.
Author's Note: I feel like this idea is so unoriginal but I don't care. The work of the reader is not mentioned much at all because there's no way I'm putting the energy into that. Also: Link to a poll related to part 2
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"We should have Oscar over!" your mother exclaims. "I'm sure he's going to b-"
"Wait, Oscar's coming over?!" your younger sister exclaims.
"No, no, no," you sigh. "He's not. Mum, he's busy. We can't be bothering him with that. He's got too much on his plate. It'll just be a burden for him."
"No, it won't! Oscar's always nice!" your sister, Ava, remarks.
You sigh. "He's polite. He's very good at being polite. But it would still be a burden for him."
"You get to see him, like, everyday-"
"Not everyday-"
"-but me and Mum haven't seen him in ages. Oscar's like an older brother!"
You roll your eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
You're surprised when it's Oscar who brings it up. A week before the Grand Prix, he comes to dinner, which is nice for your sister and mum, you suppose.
But it's after he leaves that your mum makes a comment you're not sure you like.
She sighs and says, "Oscar's so sweet, Y/n. I'm sure that boy loves you."
"Sorry?" you look up in surprise. It was said so casually, you weren't expecting such a comment.
"He's such a sweet boy," she starts, as though he's still the sweet boy from down the street that used to babysit Ava with you, and not a famous Formula 1 driver. "You've known him for so many years. I would completely approve of him as a boyfriend for y-"
"Mum, I'm twenty-two! I don't need you to approve who I date! " you sigh, rolling your eyes.
"Yes, yes, I know. But don't you see the way he looks at you? He talks of you so fondly. He's just so kind with you- extra kind. More kind than how he is with other people."
You sigh, looking down at the tablecloth, picking your nails. "Well," you murmur, "if he really feels that way, he can let me know. But for now, I'm not interested in him... I... I don't think..." your voice fades off.
"Y/n. Haven't you had a crush on him for years? What changed that?"
You shrug, and murmur embarrassed, still not looking up, "I guess I just... moved on to someone else?"
"Y/n! You have a boyfriend?" your immature sister giggles.
"No! Just friends. But... I kind of like him, and I think he might like me, too."
"What's his name?"
You clear your throat, glancing down. You're not sure how to get out of this, so you decide simply to get up, saying you'll clean the dishes.
Because you know your mother would be, to say in the least, unhappy to know that rather being interested in Oscar, you're interested more in his teammate, Lando.
Or, at least, you think you are.
As you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, you think. Lando really is your type, in looks and personality. Everything you want in a guy. He's got a good sense of humour, a kind heart, and an adventurous spirit.
Not to say Oscar doesn't have all those things. It's just different.
Besides, you like Lando's curly hair. You like his greenish eyes and easy smile. You like his tanner skin and dark eyebrows. You like his build, you like his hands; you're just more attracted to him.
On the surface, maybe Lando and Oscar don't seem so different. But to you, one is your best friend, and the other, you want, just maybe, as a little bit more.
Are you not appreciating Oscar? You don't know.
But you sure know how you feel, and nothing is going to change that.
Or, at least, you don't think anything will.
The whole weekend after that goes as usual, but you're happy to be in yours and Oscar's homeland. After the practice sessions, you're seated, sipping from a your water bottle, when Lando plops down next to you. "Hello."
"Hey," you nod to him with a smile. "How's it going?"
He smirks like the stupid idiot he is and says, "Better, now that I'm with you."
You roll your eyes, and look up to see Oscar walking over he sits down on the other side of you, and you comment, "It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"
"What is?" Oscar asks.
"We used to play in this park, you know? Remember, dragging Ava along behind us?"
Oscar chuckles, nodding. "And my three little sisters. It was you and me, dragging around the four younger ones because our parents wanted a break."
"Yeah, your mum had Pilates or something," you joke.
He nods again with a grin. "Yeah. Probably something like that."
Then Oscar gets up and walks off, and Lando says, "So you two really have known each other forever?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Both born in Melbourne, a little over a month apart."
"So when's your birthday?" Lando inquires, crossing his arms across his chest.
"May 26. Funnily enough, that's the Monaco Grand Prix."
"Oh boy. I guess that means we'll have to drive well that weekend, even better. You know, for you."
"Yeah," you chuckle. "You're going to dedicate the whole Monaco Grand Prix to me?"
"Well, you certainly deserve it," he grins, patting your back before standing up and walking away.
Gosh, do you like both those guys so much!
"Ayy!" you grin, high-fiving Lando. "Let's go, baby! A podium. Nice job! And you too, Osc! Nice job, dude!" you add as he passes. He beams almost as big as Lando and nods, thanking you, before walking off.
"Well, what a gift," Lando winks. "To have you greet me after the Grand Prix."
"You're hopeless," you grin, rolling your eyes. "Good race, though. Solid, from both you and Oscar."
Lando suddenly wraps you in a hug, which makes your body practically turn to stone. "Thanks so much. You're so encouraging."
"O- Of course, Lando. Always."
"M-hm, and that's what I like about you," he says, pulling away from the hug, before walking off.
You're standing there, blushing softly, at the fact that Lando Norris just hugged you, when you turn your head, and, unexpectedly, see the brown eyes of Oscar lingering on you. As soon as your eyes meet, though, he swiftly turns his crestfallen face down, away from your face.
All the sudden, you feel a large, nervous stone in your throat.
Did he see you hug Lando?
Is that what that look about?
Or is he just down about not getting a podium at his home race?
Yeah, maybe that's just it. Anyone would be, right?
But, inside, you know that's not it. You know Oscar. He keeps cool. He's a good sportsman- a really good one. He's polite. He understands what had to be done.
So what's that look about?
Your brain can only reach one conclusion, and you're not sure if you like it.
Oscar takes a deep breath and starts walking toward you. Maybe it's time to say what he's thinking. If there's any chance of things going on with you and Lando, it's probably good for you to know how he feels, right? Just so there's no confusion.
At least that's what Oscar's figuring.
But, who knows, when he stands up and walks over, if he's actually going to admit it. For years, he's felt this way, and he's never had to guts to just say it, knowing you don't feel the same way.
Oscar wouldn't say he's scared of it, but he's definitely not keen on the idea of being rejected, which he assumes he likely will be.
You're just getting some coffee before you get back to your work, and Oscar, though he's really not thirsty or in want of any coffee right now, is ready to pretend he is.
The excuse is that he's tired. Perhaps it's too far-fetched, since it's pretty much a known fact throughout all of McLaren HQ that Oscar Piastri loves sleep, but-
Yeah.
He's 'super tired.'
You fill your paper cup up with coffee, in deep thought about work, and nothing else. Just as you're about to walk back to your desk and get back to the work, as you're turning around, a smooth hand grabs your forearm, and you spill your coffee on your McLaren T-shirt in surprise. "O- Oscar!" you exclaim, stumbling a bit at the utter closeness. "H- Hi!?"
"Hi," he says with earnest eyes. "I'm.... sorry."
"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't too hot. Oh well. I'll just go change; I have an extra shirt, sorry about that! Anyway, see you around!" And then you're off, leaving your half-full coffee cup sitting on the counter.
Oscar is left standing there, staring at the cup, his hand still out from where he had touched your arm.
Alright then. Well, maybe it's not meant to be.
Oscar's terrible timing is that he calls you the moment you're sitting next to Lando in his car, talking.
Lando is yapping. "-so then the girl said some spunky comment or whatever, and she reminded me a lot of you. You know, because I would've been the tough macho man in the movie that saves you from the fucking murder men, ri- Wait, who's calling?" he inquires, leaning over closer.
You laugh a bit at the interruption of his silly talking, and don't even think to not let Lando see who's calling. "It's Oscar..." you say vaguely, before looking up to meet Lando's eyes. "Why would he be calling?"
Lando shrugs, a curious streak in his expression. "Well, pick up, and see."
So you do. "Hello, Oscar?"
"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you today," he says immediately, which causes a small laugh to escape from your lips.
"Osc, it's fine. I spilled it on myself. Did you call just to say that?"
"No," he laughs. "I was just wondering if tomorrow night you wanted to hang out or something..."
"Oh... yeah, sure, that'll work for me."
"Oh, nice. Alright. Also, one more question. I swear it's not related, either."
"Go on?"
There's a few moments of silence, before you prompt, "Oscar, are you still there?"
"Yeah. So... I was just wondering... are you dating anyone? Because. I know you and Lando are pretty close friends, and I was just wondering."
"Oh!" you say in surprise, your cheeks involuntarily going pink. And, without thinking, or considering, at all, you blurt, "No, of course not! Just friends!"
Immediately, you feel guilty.
You in no way lied, but you still feel like you just did something wrong.
Both you and Lando would say you're just friends.
But more and more, neither of you seem to want that.
And if Oscar's interested in you...
Oh, God.
"Oh, alright." He sounds somewhat relieved, which makes your heart tighten even more. "Alright, sounds good. Want me to just drive you from work? We could leave, at like, 8:00 P.M.?"
"8:00? What on earth are you doing, leaving at 8:00 in the evening?"
"I have something in mind."
"Uh?"
"You'll see. Trust me?"
"Alright," you shrug, still feeling very unsure.
"Okay. See you later, Y/n."
"Bye bye, Osc," you say, before hanging up.
The moment you do, Lando leans in close, with wide eyes, "What did he say?"
"Just wants to hang out."
One of Lando's eyebrows cock up.
"Lan," you chuckle. "That's all it is. Just like... like, how you and me just hang out."
"Mmm'kay, then..." he nods slowly. He's silent for a few seconds, before commenting. "Lan. That's cute."
"You're cute," you blurt, again, not thinking.
You really should try that more. You know, the whole thinking thing. You're sure you'd get in a lot less trouble if you used that brain of yours once in a while.
Lando immediately shows a pleased, toothy grin. "That's more like it," he comments, slipping his hand into yours, before he starts driving. "Up for an evening drive?"
"Always. Lan."
He winks, bites his lip, and gets driving.
"So, where are we going?" you ask as you walk to Oscar's car.
"I'm not telling you."
"Well, you're wearing a McLaren hoodie and grey jeans, so... somewhere casual."
"Good guess," he smiles, unlocking his car.
He opens the passenger seat door for you and as you're getting in, a piece of paper flies out of your pocket. You feel a lump in your throat as Oscar, with his quick reflexes, snatches it up off the ground.
Formula 1 drivers suck.
"Ca- Can I have that?" you ask quickly.
"Sure," Oscar says, handing it to you.
But it landed facing up. There's no way he couldn't have read the little note from Lando on it.
As Oscar walks around to the other side of the car, you read it over in your shaking hand.
You seem down today angel. If you wanna talk just find me or text me; i'm always here to listen. -lando
You feel your stomach lurch.
He even signed it with his name! The idiot!
And you weren't down! Just deep in thought! About Oscar, actually.
You let air escape from your lungs. You can feel the concern, the tenseness radiating off of Oscar as he drives, before, finally, he says, "Listen, I'm sorry for-"
"I know you read it. It's fine. It's nearly impossible not to. I would have, too."
"Angel?"
You bite your lip, looking out the window. "That's, just, uh, how Lando is..."
He regrips the steering wheel. "Y/n, you know me. If you lied on the phone, I won't be mad. I just want to know."
"I didn't lie, Osc. Lando was sitting right there when you called. I didn't lie."
"What... What were you doing?"
"Just hanging out. Just the same as what we're doing right now. You're both just my friends, okay?"
"Right," he says, but the sound barely escapes his lips, in only a whisper.
Soon, you reach the destination, and you're surprised to see it's your house. "Oscar...? Why'd you bring me home?"
"You'll see," he says with a soft smile. You both get out of the car, and he grabs some stuff from out of the trunk, before walking onto the lawn. You watch with your eyebrows scrunched together as he lays out a blanket. He sits down on it and pulls out a few little packets from his pocket.
"What's that?" you demand, still standing.
He takes your hand and gently tugs you down next to him. "Are you still a Tim Tam addict?"
You grin, holding your hand out to take a pack. "Thanks. And yes, I am."
"You're the most Aussie to ever Aussie."
"I could say the same thing about you."
Suddenly, he flops down on the blanket, laying down on his back, and you finally get the memo. "Stargazing?" you ask him carefully.
"If that's okay with you."
You grin, laying down next to him. "Why not?"
You lie there, side by side, staring up, and Oscar starts talking.
Listening to Lando is different. Lando is excited. Like he likes you so much and just wants to tell you everything. He talks a lot and makes you laugh a lot. Like, doubling over giggling kind of laughing.
Oscar makes little jokes, but just enough to make you softly chuckle. He doesn't go on and on. He pauses, as if he's thinking about what to say next. For you, that's a little awkward sometimes.
You feel awkward in silence.
But you like both of their ways of yapping.
After a while, Oscar is silent for longer than before, and you ask, "You asleep?"
He chuckles. "Of course not."
"Wouldn't put it past you," you tease.
"Fair enough..." he sighs softly, before, suddenly, you feel his warm hand brush yours. And in the dark, his fingers find yours, and he holds your hand in his.
You don't know what to feel. But surprisingly, it's something good.
His hand is smoother than Lando's, but smaller. His knuckles and veins are more defined, and his fingernails feel rougher than Lando's.
Here you are, just comparing the two.
Is that wrong?
But his hand is also radiantly warm, sending heat throughout your chilly body, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.
You lick your lips, murmuring, "It's kind of cold. Can we go inside?"
There's a few seconds of silence from your friend next to you, before he says, "If the problem is that you're cold, I could fix that."
You look over in surprise, meeting his glimmering eyes, which appear to be merely black orbs in the darkness of the night. "How?" you venture.
Suddenly, he pulls you close to him, enveloping your body with his warm. You gasp a little, your heart rate immediately quickening. All the sudden, you don't feel so cold.
All the sudden, you get why you had a crush on Oscar for years.
All the sudden, the feelings come rushing back.
And in the light of the fact that you feel the exact same things with Lando, you have absolutely no idea what to think, feel, or do.
"So, are you, like, a bowling kind of guy?"
Lando shrugs. "I'm a you kind of guy, so any excuse I can think of to go somewhere with you, I will."
"Brutally honest, no?"
"Nothing's brutal about it," he grins, sipping from his cheap beer. He sets it down and stands up to have his go, before plopping back down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.
"Lan," you chuckle. "You know, when you're bowling with only two people, as you've decided to do, there's not much time for cuddling in between turns." You say it lightheartedly. You don't mean anything by it.
But Lando does, apparently, because he says, "Ah, you know neither of his care about bowling. I care about you."
"Is this when I'm supposed to say I care about you, too?"
"Yeah, well, pretty much."
You lean closer, resting your head on Lando's shoulder. "I care about you, too. You're a great friend."
"Ah. Yeah, you too." He runs his hands through your hair for a while, before finally prompting you to take your turn. He stands up with you, as he has every time you've gone. You deliver the ball, but take just a step too forward, and slip.
Ah, fuck.
But suddenly, Lando grabs your wrist and pulls you back up, so you stumble right into him. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around you, and says, "Careful, there, Y/n. You okay?"
You clear your throat, blushing as butterflies swarm your stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."
He smirks. "No problem. That's what friends are for, eh?"
So, they both like me. And I like both of them. They're both so different in their own ways, but I like them both for different reasons.
And both likely expect the other likes me.
But regardless, they're both getting closer and closer to me. And I'm starting to
"Y/n-"
You slam your notebook shut, looking up to see Oscar. He's brought you on a few more...
Well, if you were to call a spade a spade, you'd say 'dates.'
But you just can't do that, because then you'd be saying you're dating two guys at once.
Neither of them have officially asked you out. Neither have ever even gotten close to calling you their partner.
So, that's how you convince yourself there's nothing wrong with it.
So they're not dates. You just don't know what to call them.
Either way, since the Tim Tam Stargazing Romantically Cuddling Under The Moonlight Night, Oscar has also taken you to dinner for his birthday and to a museum.
Oscar is different. He plans stuff out and then asks you if you're available. Lando asks if you're available first, and then just sort of-
Well, you never plan with Lando. You just do and go what and where you want that day.
It's different.
And yet again, you couldn't say which you like better.
"Y/n?" Oscar repeats, sounding more concerned now, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"Oh- yeah, what?"
He sits down next to you. "I know you'll be busy, just like the rest of us, since Miami is coming up fast, but..."
You smile nervously. "Yeah...?"
"Want to come over to my flat tonight? Or something?"
You swallow a lump in your throat as the picture of Lando's text from earlier today appears in your head.
I'm feeling good for Miami. Want to come over to my place tonight?
You had said 'sure.' You knew sometime soon, plans would overlap, and...
And that time is now.
"Y/n? Are you okay?" Oscar asks, placing his hand on your shoulder. "You look pale."
"Just... uh... Lots of..." you clear your throat. "Lots of work to do before the Grand Prix. Just... you know, stressed. I don't think I'll be able to tonight. But thank you," you put on a weak smile.
Oscar's lips curl into a concerned, thin line, but he nods, taking his hand off your shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just remember- I'm right here."
Same exact words Lando says to me all the time.
"R- Right. Thank you, Osc."
He nods. "Of course."
As soon as he's gone, you text Lando, letting him know plans abruptly changed, and that you're busy tonight after all.
You end up being very busy laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, emotions swarming in your stomach as you come to the realization that you can't keep going on like this. Soon enough, you're going to either have to choose one and break the other's heart, or let go of both of them.
And for some reason, just that thought makes you start to cry.
The rush of adrenaline is enough to make you crazy. Enough to make someone do stupid things that they never, ever should.
But when Lando Norris, race winner Lando Norris, is there, in front of you, you scream his name. When he sees you, his whole face lights up, and he throws his arms around you, lifting you up. "Nice work!" You kiss him on the cheek.
He giggles. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you and the whole team!"
"Ah, shut up and give yourself the credit for once."
He grins wider. "Yeah, I guess for once I do deserve it."
"Shut your face, loser- or, I guess, winner."
"No, you shut yours," he murmurs, and when he's sure no eyes or cameras are on you, pecks your lips, before pulling away and running off.
And you're left there, a dizzy mess of adrenaline and embarrassment.
Later, you're walking in McLaren, and suddenly, you hear Lando's voice, "Y/n, come here."
You look up to see him peeking out of his driver's room. "What?"
"Just come on. I've got something for you." He's looking at you like an excited little puppy.
You grin and shrug, walking in with him.
The door latches behind you.
"What have you got for me, Lan?" you ask, glancing around at his contained mess.
Suddenly, your back is against the wall, and Lando's face is merely inches away from yours. You gasp, staring at him, feeling his breath on your face. "This," he mutters softly, before his eyes flutter closed and his lips meet yours.
Excitement and guilt hit you at the same exact time.
But as Lando invites you, you lean into the kiss, and any thoughts of Oscar slowly leave you as you're consumed by the bliss of this intimate moment with Lando.
But when you finally pull away from each other, panting, you murmur, "We never, ever mention this again, okay, Lan?"
He just grins, his hand slowly caressing your cheek. "Of course. Friend."
You sigh shakily. "You supposed that was your little reward for winning your first race, huh? You already got a trophy."
"Ah, sure. But you're my real trophy."
Oh, Lando, and his so-called 'silver tongue.'
After literally just making out with Lando, it feels thoroughly terrible to pat Oscar's shoulder and tell him 'sorry' about P13. Yet you manage to keep composure, despite the heavy guilt, as you say, "It's just the luck of the draw sometimes, no? But there's always next race."
You want to break down crying. You want to say something, but at the same time, you don't.
You don't regret kissing Lando.
You like him.
You think you have a better chance with him than you do with Oscar.
But you like Oscar, too. And just doing that feels like...
A betrayal.
No matter how much you say you're just friends, when do labels stop counting?
Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel sick.
"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lando asks, surprised to see you sitting in the hallway outside the offices, back in McLaren HQ, hugging your knees to your chest, staring somewhat vacantly, at nothing whatsoever.
"Hm? Hi, Lando," you say tiredly.
He slips down the wall next to you and says gently, taking your hand. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself lately."
You swallow but don't respond.
He squeezes your hand and whispers, "Was it the kiss? Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't-"
"No, no... It's... nothing."
Lando sighs. "So I take it I won't be able to be getting you to talk, huh?"
"S'pose not..." you sigh. There's no way you're telling him. He's fifty percent of the problem.
And Oscar's the other fifty.
So he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly. You automatically lean your head into his chest, and he presses his lips into your scalp, gently kissing your hair. "I'll be ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. But if you never are, I'll be here for you anyw-"
"What the-"
Both of you look up in shock to see Oscar looking right back at you.
Oscar's teeth clench. He's usually, nearly always, such a calm person. But now he doesn't look angry. He just look deeply hurt.
You bite back a very sudden sob.
And out of his hurt, for once, Oscar Piastri doesn't think before he speaks, and the bitter words fly out of his mouth: "Alright then! Just lie to me! Just give me fucking false hope for no reason, Y/n! That's great! Thanks a lot! Thank you! Lando, why don't you keep comforting her? Clearly she'd like that much more than anything I have to offer."
And then he turns on his heel and walks away, down the hall.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" Lando snaps indignantly. "The asshole!"
Oh, Lando. He doesn't know. Not one bit.
"You stay here," he suddenly says angrily. "I'm going after him."
"Lando..." you sigh, burying your face in your hands. "Please, no..."
"Y/n..." Lando looks at you, uncertain.
You sigh again. "Okay, whatever." It's not like it can get any worse, can it?
So then Lando's off, and you're left to drown in your complete and utter regret.
Lando jogs down the hall, and the moment he sees Oscar's back in front of him, walking away from him, he calls, "Oscar, wait up."
He spins on his heel to face the Brit. His jaw is tight, and his eyes tender. "What?" he breathes.
"What the hell, man? What's wrong?"
"I'm not blind, Lando," Oscar sighs, leaning his back against the wall, shutting his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lando demands, facing him.
"I know you two are dating. It's fine. I was kidding myself. Playing pretend, yeah? Just like me and Y/n used to always do. It's fine. You know I'm the type of guy to adjust. I always do. That's what I've learnt. So, I wish you two luck, but I ought to be off now." Oscar then leans off the wall to keep walking away.
But Lando grabs his shoulder. "What? I still don't get it?"
"It doesn't matter. Forget this ever happened." The Australian doesn't sound bitter or angry anymore. Disappointed and resigned, for sure, but also accepting. "It's for the best. Just go comfort your girlfriend. She needs it."
"She's not- I mean- we- I-" Lando trails off, at a complete loss for words.
Oscar stares ahead, not facing Lando. "Lando, I like you. Let's not make this dramatic. I'm sorry; I slipped. Should have kept it to myself. Like I have for years. Never should have said a word."
"I..." Lando begins, but stops. "Oscar, I..."
"You don't know what to say?" Oscar asks, suddenly looking over to Lando with an actual, genuine smile on his face, surprisingly enough. "That's okay. Probably means you shouldn't say anything. Maybe you talk too much sometimes anyway."
It's just meant to me a light, friendly tease, but in this situation, it doesn't seem right. Knots twist up in Lando's stomach, and Oscar's words don't feel like a joke at all.
Lando knows more needs to be said, but there's nothing more to say.
Then, suddenly, to his somewhat shock, Lando hears your voice behind him. "Oscar," you say, walking toward the McLaren driver. You swallow. Keeping composure.
Oscar looks at you expectantly, tentatively taking a step forward, almost involuntarily.
You suddenly throw your arms around him in a hug.
"Hey, Osc," you begin whispering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what it might look like. But me and Lando are just friends, just like you and me are just friends. Like I said before- Lando is just like that. Besides, if you saw me sad, wouldn't you help me out in just the same way?"
"I... uh... O- Of course..."
"See? So there's nothing to be upset about. I wasn't lying to you."
Oscar's unsure eyes soften, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "I- Alright... Okay. Uhm."
"I forgive you, Oscar. It's okay," you smile gently, stroking his cheek.
You want to throw up.
Y/n. You lying, evil snake. Listen to yourself. So manipulative, and for what?
To save yourself.
To save Oscar.
But it is all selfish though, isn't it?
You're just trying to cover all your bases.
You take your hand away from Oscar's warm skin and say simply, "Lando- I think my problem earlier was just that I'm not feeling very well... Must have picked up some kind of virus... I... I should be getting home now."
And you run out, leaving the two McLaren boys standing there in the hallway, both absolutely speechless.
After quite an awkward week or so, the Imola GP comes around, and, like racing always does for you, the passion is too much to let any barriers soften your excitement.
You see Oscar first, who you congratulate with a high five. But he hugs you, saying, "How are you?"
"Huh?" you ask in surprise. "Great! Another super solid weekend for the team. P4 for you!"
"Hah, yeah," he smiles. "Well, I'm glad you're doing just as good as I am."
And later, wen you see Lando, your first comment is, "You could have won this one, too!"
"I know!" he laughs. "After knowing how it feels, P2 doesn't seem so glorious."
You click your tongue. "Don't worry, Lando. It'll come."
Well, in that following week, somehow, the two busy drivers both find times to ask you out.
As friends.
Lando tries to pry out of you what really happened that day with Oscar. You refuse to say it. Say it's personal, having to do with things from yours and Oscar's childhood.
More twisting the truth.
You're starting to hate how good you are at these disgusting games.
When you go to dinner with Oscar, it hurts your heart to see how trusting he seems. Even after it all, he thinks he's the one in the wrong. And he thinks all is well. That nothing wrong is happening. He asks you one more time if you're dating Lando.
You say no.
Because you're not.
Right?
And then, it seems, before someone can say 'I'm in love with two McLaren Formula 1 drivers,' you're walking into the Monaco paddock, the week flies by so fast.
You love Monaco. Doesn't everyone? It's one of the best Grand Prixs of the season in your opinion, if not the best. The atmosphere, the sea, the people- it's all just slightly different in Monaco.
Everything shines brighter in Monaco.
And, apparently, you do, too, because both Lando and Oscar are being particularly affectionate towards you this weekend. You can't tell if you like it, or if it's stressing you out. Likely both.
"So... Piastri-Leclerc, is it?" you ask Oscar with a chuckle.
"Yeah, that's right," Oscar says with a little chuckle.
Suddenly, one of your other coworkers nudges you and says teasingly, loud enough for Oscar to hear, "Ah, Y/n, that means you'll have to be Y/n Piastri-Leclerc when you marry him. What do you feel about that?"
Before you can say anything, Lando seems to materialize out of the depths of the McLaren garage to comment, "You know, Y/n Norris has got a lot better ring to it."
"The confidence!" your coworker laughs at Lando as Lando laughs genuinely and you and Oscar likely laugh more nervously than anything else.
That night, as you lay in the bed in your hotel room, you're having a sinking feeling, deep down in your chest, that soon enough, you'll have to choose.
You'll have to make a decision.
If you keep up this game any longer, one of you are going to get killed in the process.
You just have to be honest.
Who do you love more? Who would be better for you?
You've known Oscar longer. You connect with him better.
But you enjoy being with Lando more. You have more of the same interests.
Lando is always positive and confident. Oscar is always sensible and even-keeled, relaxed, and calm.
Lando's wild card or Oscar's solid rock?
They both care for and about you so, so much.
Oscar for all these years, was too scared to admit how he felt to you, and was only convinced to confess it when he saw how you and Lando were with each other.
So, essentially, jealousy was what convinced him to admit his feelings.
He hasn't even admitted it.
Lando has, many times. You've got Lando's number. He's straight with you. He's not scared to say it.
But at the same time... you've never believed in soulmates, but there's definitely something to the story of your life, and the way it always seemed to result in Oscar. He was always the one at the end of every tunnel.
You've known Oscar for a lifetime. You've known Lando for... what, two years?
You sigh deeply.
What the hell?
"P2, Oscar! P2! In Monaco!"
He's laughing as you throw your arms around him this time. Lando's there, patting him on the back. "Nice job, mate," he congratulates.
"Yeah, mate! Nice job is right!" you giggle.
Oscar leans away, beaming.
Then, as soon as Lando walks off, Oscar kisses your cheek gently, just letting his soft lips brush your cheek.
Your breath catches in your throat.
"Would it... would it be okay if I kissed you later? For real?"
You swallow. "We'll see about that."
But Oscar just smiles. "Will I have to wait until I win a race, too, to get a kiss out of you?"
You laugh, but a lump rises in your throat.
Why is he talking as if he knows?
"Y- Yeah," you breathe. "I reckon so."
He nods and leans away. "Well, happy birthday, Y/n! I've got something for you!" He's about to pull you by your hand, when suddenly, another hand grabs your other hand.
"Wanna see your birthday gift, Y/n?"
You look up to see Lando.
Literally, both of them, about to pull you separate directions.
Yeah, you think almost scornfully, That's right. You can each have a hand.
207 notes · View notes
latenightdaydreams · 15 hours
Text
Tutor (fem)
Loser!König x Bully!Reader
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, bully, oral, p in v, virginity loss
2.3k word count
📖
.
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König is a loser. He’s a 23-year-old virgin college student who is too scared to talk to women. He would much rather stay home and build Gundam’s, play video games, or work on his schoolwork. In public, he is quiet and timid. He tries to blend in to not be seen. Being a whole 6 '10, he can’t. As a child, he was constantly bullied for his size and being chubby. As an adult, he still gets picked on for being tall and awkward.
You are a part of the problem. A short, curvy, big-breasted bitch; the apple of his eye. König sits in the back of class and watches your hips sway as you walk to your seat. The way your breasts bounce like hentai boobies. His cock grows hard as you bend over, making your cleavage more visible to him. Just as he got lost in a trance, you snap him out of it.
“What are you looking at? Freak!”
Your hands on your hips, a disgusted look on your face. König’s face turns red as he realizes that you’ve caught him in the act. You flip him off and turn to sit. He reaches down to adjust his boner, taking a deep breath and letting out a small sigh.
After class, as everyone stands to pack their bags, he stays seated, looking at his cell phone. He has your Instagram profile opened on his phone, gazing at a bikini picture you posted this summer. You look absolutely perfect in your tiny pink bikini. He has become so lost in your photos; he didn’t realize you were walking past him to leave.
“What the fuck?” A loud laugh breaks out.
König looks up to see that you caught him looking at your profile. He turns off the screen of his phone and clears his throat. Inside his chest, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s going to explode from embracement.
“Sorry.” His voice is meek as he avoids eye contact with you.
“Fucking loser.” You scoff while walking away.
This was going to be a long year.
Three months into the school year, you haven’t turned in one assignment yet and have failed the few tests you’ve had. The dean sent you a message telling you that if you don’t raise your grades, you would be at risk of being put on academic probation. You needed a tutor, and fast.
König sits in his dorm room at his desk, working on building Lego set #21348, when he hears a knock at his door. He looks over his shoulder at his door, trying to decide if he wants to deal with people. After a few seconds, he stands to answer the door.
Once he opens the door, his eyes grow wide seeing you standing there. “Oh, h-hey y/n.”
“Hey König.” You smile up at him and push him aside, walking into his room. His room is simple and neat. Robot figures anywhere he can place them and a Lego set on his desk. You walk over and look at the set, König walking up behind you.
“So, what is this? Star Wars?”
König tilts his head confused about how wrong you are. Do you even know what Star Wars is? “Uh, no. Star Wars is a space themed futuristic story…” He could see the lack of interest on your face. “So, why are you here?”
“Geez, you’re a bigger fucking nerd than I thought you were.” You say pushing over a mini figure he has posed on the desk. His mouth hangs open, stopping himself from asking you to not do that. He watches as you turn and take a seat on his desk chair.
You look up at König as he towers over you. “You’re smart, right?”
“I guess.” König rubs the back of his neck feeling bashful.
“Well, I’m failing math, and I need a tutor. The issue is… well, I can’t afford one. So I was wondering if you could tutor me.”
This isn’t what he was expecting, well more of not what he hoped for. “I don’t have time to tutor. Sorry.”
Your smile drops and you stand up. “Too busy? You’re always in here building stupid fucking Legos or robot’s models.”
“Technically Gundam’s are mechs, not robots like a transformer.”
“Wow. Okay.” You sound annoyed and uninterested. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
“I already said I can’t.” His voice gets even more timid.
You’re not use to people saying no to you, especially not pathetic men who worship the ground you walk on. In fact, you hate being told no. How fucking dare he.
“So, you can sit and fucking gawk at me, stalk my social media accounts, but you can’t help me for a few fucking hours?” You push his muscular chest.
He stumbles backwards, actually intimidated by you. Speechless, he doesn’t know what to say. His eyes drop to your breasts as you keep walking to him. Not one thought in his mind other than how hot you look at this exact moment.
“I- I uh, I.”
“What? You forgot how to talk?” You push him once more and he falls back on to his bed. As soon as he does, your eyes drift down to the tent growing in his pants and you laugh. König’s eyes go wide as your hand reaches out, grasping his boner through his sweats; his face burning hot. He looks up at you in a daze.
“Oh, wow. Loser actually has a fat cock.” Your other hand grabs his jaw and forces him to look into your eyes. You lean in and lick from his lips to his nose before moving back and letting go of him.
König’s heart is fluttering in his chest, this feels like a dream. His eyes watch like a hungry dog as you pull your tight fitted shirt, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. Your hands unbutton your jeans and expose a thin thong that barely covers your fat pussy lips.
“Why are you still dressed?” Your voice shocks him out of his daze.
Quickly, he pulls his shirt off. A ripped muscular body is not what you expected him to have under his baggy clothing. He drops his sweat pants along with his boxers allowing his cock to spring free. König, now nude, stands in front of you frozen. His gaze lingering on your pussy. You’re the first woman he’s seen naked in person.
“Do you have condoms?”
He looks at his bedside table, even though he is well aware he has none. “Um, no. I don’t.”
“I knew you were probably a virgin.” He blushes and looks down when you say this. You walk closer to him. “Are you?”
“Ja, I am.”
“No fucking wonder. Lay down.” You demand in a strict tone.
König jumps like a drill sergeant to yell at him. He quickly gets on his bed and looks at you. His cock twitching with excitement. You climb onto the bed with him, straddling his massive body. His hands instinctively rest on your thighs as you lean in and kiss his lips.
“How about I teach you—” You kiss him in between talking. “How to fuck—” His fingers squeeze your thighs. “And you tutor me?”
Without thinking, König nods his head enthusiastically.
“Good. We will start with math.” You giggle, reaching your hand behind his head to pull the pillows away from behind him.
König looks confused by your comment. Math? Then his eyes go wide as you straddle his face. Your twat lingers above him. He gazes up as if you’ve just shown him God. If he could take your scent and make air fresheners, he would. His cock is upright, erect, waiting to taste you.
“Stick your tongue out, big boy.” You lean forward and place your hands on his chest. One hand reaches forward and jerks his cock.
König sticks his tongue out eagerly, watching your body as you lower yourself onto his face. Your pussy rests on his mouth and nose, hips rocking back and forth on his tongue. His eyes flutter closed as he tastes pussy for the first time. How could he have lived this long without tasting this sweet nectar?
His fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you down closer to his face. His tongue rapidly laps at your cunt, slurping and drinking your wetness. You moan, eyes closing as you continue to grind; he’s surprisingly skilled.
“You want me to suck your cock?”
“Ja, bitte.” He groans, his sound muffled from you sitting on his face.
Leaning forward, you pull his foreskin down and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. He lets out a moan, his toes curling. Your hands move in motion with your head as you bob your head up and down on his cock. König moans into your sopping wet cunt. He’s in heaven.
König’s hips thrust forward to match your rhythm. One of his hands moves from your thigh up your body to squeeze your breast before roaming back down. When you pull your mouth away from his cock, he thrust forward even more, craving your friction. You lift yourself up off of him, his hands hold on to your thighs tighter as if trying to keep you on him. Reluctantly, he lets you go; swiping his tongue between your folds once more as you stand.
You move your body to the side of him. He watches you as he licks his lips, trying to savor the taste of you. The heat of your pussy radiates over your cock.
“You’re buying me a Plan B right after this.”
“I will.” His eyes are glued to yours.
Slowly you rock your hips over his cock before grasping it at the base. You look into his eyes as you lower yourself on him.
König’s mouth drops open and he lets out a loud groan. His eyes glued to your tight cunt stretching around his cock. He grabs at the blanket underneath him, squeezing it to the point his knuckles are turning white. He can’t last long in your pussy.
“Mein Gott, you- your pussy—” He can’t form a coherent sentence.
His hands reach out for your breasts as you bounce on him. You have the most incredible pair of tits he has ever seen. He’s always known you were hot, but seeing you like this, not even Aphrodite couldn't compare.
You slap away his hand and lean forward. “Grab my ass and fuck me.”
König nods, having seen this in porn before, he knows what to do. He thinks. His large hands grasp your fat ass and squeeze his fingers into the supple flesh; bending his legs at the knee, he begins to thrust up into you.
As he tries his hardest to not cum, his thrust is slow. He looks at the ceiling as his mind is running 110mph. You grab his jaw again, forcing him to look at you.
“Fuck me. Harder.” You demand of him.
“I don’t…want to hurt you.” He struggles to speak, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes.
“If you don’t fuck me hard, we are done here.”
König would not let his crush on the last two semesters just walk away, especially not since he got you to this part. Guys like him don’t get women like you. He grabs you and rolls you over on to the bed, slamming you down a little harder than he meant to. The look on your face tells him you didn’t mind one bit.
He grabs your hips and pulls you to him, slipping his cock back inside of your tight little cunny. You moan out as your hands grab his arms. König doesn’t hold back as he restricts your movements underneath him using his massive size. He pulls his hips back far before slamming down into you. His enormous cock being rammed deep inside of you, deeper than you can take.
“Oh, fuck! Like that you fucking freak!” You moan out.
König lets out a small growl as he ravishes your body, ruining your cunt for any other man. His mouth clashes into yours, desperate for your kiss. A trail of his hot wet kisses leaving from your mouth down to your breasts. He bites the skin around your areola, marking you as his for your stupid fuck buddy to see.
You push him back. “Rub my clit.” You reach for his hand and guide it so he knows where to touch. “Do small circles.”
He nods and begins to rub slowly at first until you yell at him to go faster. König lets out a surprised moan as he feels you tightening around him. Is this what a female orgasm is? Fuck yes! His hips faster, his rhythm slightly off as he tries to also focus on your clit.
“Don’t stop.” König watches in amazement as you arch your back and tremble. Your pussy becomes so wet it's splashing as he rubs it. He feels on top of the world.
Instantly, a loud pitched moan leaves his throat. A stupid smile crosses his face as he eyes go slightly crossed. He cums deep inside of your pussy. As his body naturally falls forward you push him off to the side.
König lays on his back, on cloud nine. His pale eyes study your face and your body as you lay beside him.
“So,” your breathing is still heavy, “I’ll come by tomorrow and we can start working on my tutoring.”
He nods, willing to give you anything you ask for at this point. Mentally, he is not over the fact he just ate and fucked y/n, you, your pussy.
You stand from the bed and begin to get dressed. Your cunt hurts, König fucks like a mating bull. He’s a good fuck though, there is not denying that.
“Oh, and if you tell anyone, you’re dead.”
“I understand.” König watches you as you get dressed with hearts in his eyes. “What are we?”
You stop and look at him for a moment before letting out a small laugh and shaking your head.
158 notes · View notes
ozzgin · 3 days
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/ozzgin/751732947596541952/yanmonster-who-is-a-famous-author-of-human?source=share
Oh, oh, oh, what if he suddenly has a strange reader? Apparently, his ordinary readers are just as humanefucker as he is, and this is noticeable, but in this particular reader such interest is almost unnoticeable. But he's full of interesting observations and ideas about his stories and delicious, quirky, strangely specific and deep interactions with people. With them you can reflect on interactions with people and this is always interesting. And that’s how they start a kind of pen pal friendship. This unknown friend slowly thawed and began asking strange questions about monsters. And I didn’t come up with anything further, and as you guessed, this unknown friend was a human with a strange and quite possibly sexual interest in monster’s works. Monster, of course, does not know that he is corresponding with a human.
Scratch the hiking encounter, this is so much better! Bless you, anon. 😭 Monster Author Concept here.
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The human fan is obsessed with monster author’s works, but for completely opposite reasons. You like to self insert as the human protagonist.
So you begin to write him letters, praising his talent, and asking questions about the monsters featured in the books. Are they an accurate depiction? Is this how it really works with monster mating? The beastly writer, in return, is somewhat confused: he would’ve guessed you want to know more about the humans, not the plain, cardboard characters he threw in just for the sake of a spicy plot. What do you mean you want to know more about monsters in heat? Surely you know yourself better than he does.
And then, another peculiarity: you’re shockingly knowledgeable about human lore. He’ll occasionally try to prove you wrong, only to receive a flawless argument in the next letter. He’ll click his tongue in annoyance, envious of your creative endeavor. Where do you get your sources from? How do you come up with these ideas? He’s rather confident that hardly anyone in the monster realm can match his literature on the topic. He’s been researching humans for decades.
Who exactly are you? He insists on a meeting, curious to see this potential rival with his own eyes. Similarly, you’d like to confirm that he is indeed a monster as he claims.
You knock on the door to his office, and he demands to know who’s visiting.
“It’s the human you’ve been corresponding with”, you state with a cheeky grin.
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396 notes · View notes
livelaughlovesubs · 3 days
Note
Nini!! Guess who’s back from hibernation!! :D
Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve interacted on your page, I got busy with stuff :(
Anyways, incubus Fyodor and priest reader! (Yes, ik old request, wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t remember.) punishing Fyodor for becoming cocky bc you were not paying attention to him, he even went as far as threatening to go get fucked by someone else! (He was bluffing. He’s too addicted to your cock at that point) now he has to learn the consequences of his actions when he’s forced to cockwarm you with his mouth while you read the bible, not even sparing him a glance! You even made sure to chastise him so he wouldn’t try anything. Every time he tries even moving at bit, you grab his hair tightly and push in more of your dick, making his eye tear up as he grips onto your thighs desperately. By the time you finish Luke’s gospel, Fyodor is looking up at you pleadingly with drool dripping down his chin for you to finally use him. <3
- 🍮 ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"
Incubus Fyodor 3
Dom!reader x sub!fyodor
Warning: I’ll use dick - interpret it however you want, blow job, cockwarming, hierophilia - (incorrect) religious aspects, hair pulling, choking/ gagging, dacryphilia
🍮 anon!!! I missed you and your fyodor requests! I love that little bastard hehe. Also nope, I did not forget, cuz I freaking loved those ideas.
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Normally you were nice enough to satisfy his needs, he needed it to survive after all. But he was an incubus, his sex drive was way higher than what a normal human can handle. One of the reasons why incubi’s never settle down for only one partner. In your case, you forced him to stay here with you, as if he was your personal pet. To be honest, he was just your plaything after all. The pretext of cleansing him of his sins? A dirty thing like him can’t be redeemed, you didn’t believe in such things anyway. Rather, accepting and repenting for one’s sins, and that is something he has to want for himself. The most you could do was prevent him from being even more sinful. That alone would be of great help, since otherwise he would seduce other people and make them succumb to Asmodeus too.
Today you were busy reading when he came up to you. You knew what he wanted, but this time you ignored it, there were other things to take care of. At first he just stood there, staring at you, wondering why you were so carried away. He took a few glances at your book, it was the bible in the Old Testament. No wonder you seemed busy, that one’s difficult to understand. This wont stop him from desiring you though, so he kneeled down and crawled under your table, slowly settling down between your legs.
“Y/nnn~ I’m so hungry, can we please do it?” Fyodor asked, looking up at you with those pretty scarlet eyes. “Not now, maybe later.” That’s weird, normally you always agreed. “Can’t you read that damn book later?” “This is not a ‘damn’ book, I have to concentrate so be quiet please.” You answered him, eyes never leaving the paper in front of you, scanning one line after another. He pouted, furrowing his brows as he thought about what to do. “But I’m really hungry.” The incubi complained again, though to no avail. How stubborn you were. Fine, if that’s what you want. “Never mind, I’ll find someone else then.”
Fyodor turned his head around, about to get up to leave when he felt your hand on his head. Before he got the chance to question you about it, you yanked on his hair and made him arch his back. Now you were towering over him, pulling his head back by his raven black locks. “MhmMM-ahHHNHgG..?!” He moaned out, unable to bite back a smirk. “I wont allow you to defile other innocent souls.” You told him harshly, without an ounce of concern. The gaze you bore was cold, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. It wasn’t due to fear though. His face was red, eyes foggy and expression melting, no matter what you’d do to him he’d take it with no hesitation.
“Haaah…” you sighed, feeling a little annoyed with him, then you commanded, “Go to the drawer there on the left and bring me the box in there.” He looked at you with confusion, but did it anyway. Getting up to get the box you wanted, then returning to his previous position. The demon watched with curiosity as you opened it. There were many sex toys in it, most of them have been used on him already. You reached for the things you needed, afterwards you put the rest away. Fyodor was still kneeling between your legs while you prepared everything, his body filled up with anticipation. He knows exactly what those toys do, god he wanted you to abuse him with them.
First thing you did was take the cockring and bring it to the base of his cock, it was to keep him obedient. You can’t have him squirting around his filthy essence. He squirmed when you grabbed him by the shaft as you used it on him, it looked so romantic~ That was all it took to get him hard. Then you pulled on his hair again, making him face your abdomen and dick. “Keep it in your mouth, you can’t move until I’m done, understood?” Instead of making him cockwarm you with his hole, you wanted him to use his mouth. It’s because he talks too much, you couldn’t think when he keeps babbling nonsense.
Just as you guessed, he happily took all of you inside his throat, gagging a little at the length. Forget about talking, he can barely breath with how deep it was in his throat. A bulge could be seen on his neck, right there where his Adam’s apple is. “Good boy.” You said, now stroking his head gently, as if he was really your pet. How he loved it, chocking on your dick like this, tears were on the verge of spilling. The reason why your fingers were still tangled with his locks was to prevent him from moving, since this was a punishment. That’s why every time he bobbed his head, intentionally or not, you’d force his face down further, until his nose hit your pelvis. Poor boy gagged and choked so prettily whenever you’d die that, letting out sweet moans akin to an angels singing,“guUHH..! Uh-hm,,.mHMmnGH..”
At first he was pretty enthusiastic about it, after ten minutes he got bored and needy. This only continued to the point he started crying. He was so desperate for any friction he could get, since he couldn’t even touch himself. Well, he could, but it’s not like he can cum anyways. Drool was running down his chin while tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving behind a shiny trail. His hands were bawled into fists while his tail wagged around like crazy. The look he had in his eyes were so hot, looking up at you all submissive while his pupils turned into hearts. Internally, fyodor was begging for you to finally pay attention to him, or finish reading that book soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.
This was pure torture, was what he thought after not 30 minutes, but an entire hour passed. His head felt light, and his body twitched everywhere. Just a single touch from you would cause him to yelp that’s how sensitive he became. Quiet sobs could be heard from him while melting expression plagued his features. You weren’t exactly done yet with your reading, but seeing how pitiful he looked, you just had to help him. Putting the bible aside and caressing his ruined face, “you’ve been pretty good for the past hour, want to have your meal now?” As soon as he heard that he started choking on it again, the surprise and excitement caused him to inhale too fast. Only difference was, this time you let him pull his head back. “AhHh..! Cough- uh-urGHh..ahh, ye-yes!! I want it, p- guUHH.. pleaseee..” Suddenly he started sobbing intensely again, he also stuck his tongue out after pleading with you so obediently. Right, such a good boy, it is time for him to get his blessing.
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aerinaga · 2 days
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ocean eyes pt. 1
paige bueckers x reader series
synopsis: your family tagging you along as chauffeurs with the divisions of the uconn basketball team won’t be that bad right? having to be stuck in disturbing (yet so tempting) tension with a blondie from the wbb team won’t make this 3-day trip go downhill…maybe?
warnings: none
your younger brother, nathan, is part of the uconn basketball team. he’s a sophomore at uconn, and he’s been doing great there. he tags you along during their games, even on their little parties, even with the uconn wbb team.
the women’s division in basketball is way more popular than what you thought. in fact, it’s way more popular than the mens team. you always laugh at the thought that the women’s team get way more girls than they do.
as the year is ending and summer is starting, all coaches in the basketball field have decided to go on a trip. this is gonna be the biggest trip ever, knowing that both men and womens division will be there.
your parents volunteered to chauffeur an extra vehicle. but being the independent you, you decided to take your own car too. you offered to be a chauffeur as well. you got caught up on your nerves since you would be meeting new people, but who knows? you might end up making good friends with the girls.
PRESENT TIME
it was 6am, everyone was gathered at uconn. cars were ready, luggages were everywhere, girls, and guys everywhere. your mind was still foggy, not being used to this early morning.
the coaches and parents were assigning the seating arrangements for the car rides. as you look at the list, paige bueckers is assigned to your car. her. you saw her often, at your brothers games. the both of you never really talked, only hi’s and heys at each other when your family greeted her.
there was always this tension between the both of you. the tension in where your lips might just crash at each other. besides the point, she is beautiful. you do have a thing for girls here and there, but she makes you so gay.
you can feel her piercing gaze at you. you can’t help but look back, her ocean eyes too beautiful to resist. you open your trunk for her to put your luggage in. kk, azzi, and ice were also joining in your car. you knew them well enough, excited for whats coming in the next days.
paige immediately took shotgun, connecting her phone to the aux because she claims that “she has the best music taste.” well what if she tasted good too?
it’s been 2 hours on the road, all 3 girls at the back were fast asleep. paige was awake, looking at the road ahead of her as the sun rises.
“do you wanna switch? i can drive too, we can pull up to the side.” paige talks to you quietly, not wanting to wake up the people at the back.
“no it’s okay, just keep the aux going. you do have good music taste like what people say.” you chuckle lightly, giving her a small smile as you look at her swiftly.
“i mean, it’s me. i have all kinds of music.” she shrugs her shoulders (🤷‍♀️).
you hum at her as an approval, focusing your attention on the road.
a few moments later, you hear her mumble something.
“what did you say? is there something wrong, p?” you don’t know how you got that nickname, instincts you guess.
“hmm nothing, you look pretty even if i can tell you’re tired. not used to waking up early huh?”
you blush at her comment, trying to keep in your smile.
after 4 hours on the road, the teams arrived at the resort. it was a beach resort, the sand was white, water was clear, the breeze just felt like summer. the coaches booked two villas, one for the men and the other for the women.
you don’t know how you ended up in a room with paige. well…at least the bed is a queen sized bed…? fuck.
you were in the room when paige suddenly walks in. you turn to look back at her, and you see her smirking.
“what? i didn’t choose this arrangement” you huff, feeling teased by paige. paige laughs, putting her luggage down to go closer to you.
she walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist.
“maybe you just can’t resist me, baby.” she whispers.
“or maybe, YOU can’t resist me, p.” you move your face closer to hers.
the space between the both of you is so little, lips so close to touching each other.
before you could do anything, kk barges in the room.
a/n: HALUUU 😙 send me in messages and tell me how you like it! send requests too.
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madlori · 2 days
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If the only thing you can lord over buddie is that bucktommy is canon, then you really didn't care at all about the ship.
7 seasons of being a family unit, being there for each other, having each other's back but hey! Here comes another underdeveloped love interest, but since it's a man this time, you don't care about Buck being stuck in the same hamster wheel, again, because he's kissing a man and that's hot 🙄
Also for all your doom and gloom about buddie not happening, do remember that Tommy/Eddie was an idea in Tim's mind at first, so Eddie can be read as queer, even if it's not in canon yet.
I guess you don't place much value on them being a family unit and always there for each other, and having each other's back...all of which is still true and will continue to BE true. But it's only important to you as a prelude to them kissing, right? It has no value in and of itself. I love their relationship. I love what they are to each other. But YOU are making me not want to see it, because every time they turn to each other, lean on each other, support each other, we have to listen to you shrieking BUDDIE CANON CONFIRMED or whatever, because to a certain genre of shipper (not all buddie shippers, etc) any interaction or feeling they have with each other exists only in service to the ship.
I swear to god, I'm gonna banish the phrase "hamster wheel" from y'all's mouths until I get an actual definition as to what you think it means, because from where I sit, to you it just means "he's with someone who's not Eddie." To me, it means that Buck continually fell bass-ackwards into relationships that weren't right for him, looking for something he wasn't even sure what it was. And heyyyyy, he's currently in a relationship that he actively chose and fought for, having learned something new and important about himself, with someone who makes him giddy and excited in a way we have never seen him be, who the people around him can see gives him contentment. But none of that matters, because it's not Eddie, and that is by definition his only appropriate partner, so he must still be on that hamster wheel. Also if we're going by creator intent here, Tim's said he wrote this relationship specifically to reflect Buck being off of it.
As for underdeveloped love interest? I wrote an entire ass essay about how MUCH we know about Tommy, and it's reams compared to anything we've ever known about Buck's girlfriends OR Eddie's current girlfriend who does not even have a last name. Tommy has been introduced in a way that integrates him with the 118, with multiple interests, a character arc of his own from his first appearance, a set of motivations and emotional arcs that are NOT about Buck, and something to actually offer in a relationship besides existing. Anyone saying he's underdeveloped is determined to read him as such, especially for the limited amount of time we've had him.
And I never said Eddie couldn't be read as queer. He can EASILY be read as queer. I said he WOULDN'T be. Those are two different things. If Tommy and Eddie had gotten together (which I give no more narrative weight to than Maddie and Eddie getting together, which was also a gleam in the eye at one point) I'd equally be saying that Buck would never be queer.
It's hilarious to me that I'm being accused of liking a ship because it's hot (it is, and I do, and that's...fine? there's nothing bad about that?) as if people enjoy Buddie because of the amorphous purity of it all and not at ALL because it's hot (it is and you should say so).
If my thoughts about this are so upsetting to you, just block me, dude. I promise I won't take it personally.
Also, just...learn to enjoy a ship whether it's canon or not. I've done it, we've all done it. It's not that hard, especially THIS ship, which has so much good stuff to it regardless of whether there's romance or not. Those of us who like Buck with Tommy are not taking away from you enjoying Buddie, or anyone doing so. It's not like...the State of Buddie will lose congressional representation if the population falls below a certain level. The existence of another ship does not affect yours.
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ot3 · 9 hours
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i find it interesting how many people are reblogging that favorite media format for storytelling poll and saying video games. theres definitely some interesting storytelling stuff you can Only do with video games but also i feel like as a whole video games as a medium do not live up to their potential to functionally tell stories. mostly due to the way that keeping tight reigns on a narrative to tell something coherent and focused is very often sacrificed in favor of more player freedom.
of course these aren't always mutually exclusive things. the gold standard for narrative writing in video games is disco elysium, i don't think you could convince me anyone has done it better yet. and that game has a ton of player freedom! but it has that freedom within an incredibly narrow scope - you are investigating One murder case in One very small town. but for the most part i think even the games that are most universally praised for their storytelling would pale in comparison to the narrative chops of other more traditional media formats handling the same themes or subject matter.
i guess its really a high risk high reward medium where its ability for innovative storytelling that's much harder to land makes the stuff that does land all the more impressive and impactful
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Stricken 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, ostricization,and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you were scarred by a storm years ago and its bringer has come to upheave your life once more.
Characters: God of War!Thor
Note: I did this finally.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You always know when a storm's coming. The hairs on your arms stand and your skin burns hot. The smell of rain is tinted by another scent. That of burning flesh and ash. Your scars raze as if struck again and for a moment, you cannot hear or see. 
Slowly, the scent of rain returns to you and the noise of the patter, sometimes more a hammering, as if to remind you of its bearer. The thunder is his war cry. The lightning his wrath. You do wonder why then it should’ve come down on you. 
You keep your hood up, your chin low. Though you hide, the villagers know who you are, they know of your misfortune. The calamity wrought into your flesh in veined scars. Your face is marked with the storm, zigzagged with lines as your left eye is struck blind and white. 
Yet it isn’t your name they whisper as you stop at a stall to buy grain. It is his. The Prince of Asgard. The might God of Thunder. The monster who made you like this. 
The air is thick, roiling with unspent moisture, and the clouds threatening in a grey ripple. You should have come yesterday. You should not have waited so long.  
You trade your coin and move on, gathering the small rations you can afford. You’ll return to your hovel, gather what you can from the garden, and check the traps for rabbits. It should get you through, though the frost does eat away at your harvest.  
As you have it, between the chirping of your disfigurement, there is worse creeping from the north. The snows have fallen heavy and whole lakes have frozen to the silt. You do not believe all you hear but you know better than to disregard the nip in the air. 
Your basket remains like but you’ve spent your limit. Your cloak shifts with your movement and you shrink lower as you near the group of adolescents feigning at battle with sticks. Their audience glimpses your passing and you hear their voices mingle with laughter. 
“It’s that crone. The burnt one,” comes a bit louder than is meant. 
You don’t stop. You don’t show that you’ve heard it. There is nothing to be said.  
“Cursed, by Thor’s hammer,” another chortles, “it is said he was forging and struck the blade too hard. In his wrath, he sent a storm. A mongrel like her drew it upon herself, broken like the sword.” 
Certainly, that too is a story to be met with skepticism. One cannot guess at what the gods do in Asgard nor why they bring only misery and chaos to Midgard. You cannot disagree that the storm was no favour to you. A curse, certainly, though the meaning can never be known. 
You move along, leaving behind their whispers and their sneers. Off to your solace, to your safe. Out of the path of any wandering soul or any blowing storm.  
A storm rages without. Water swirls and batters your small abode, built against the wall of a cave on a carpet of peat. You cover your ears as the winds whistle and wail. You quake beneath your cloak, eyes locked shut as you cower away from the tempest so much as your own memories. 
The blinding white flash and the scalding hot pain. Your fingers creep up to your chin and feel the rigged scars. You can never forget, no matter how you try. You can never be as you were. You are marked, you are damaged, and as the villagers have it on their tongues, broken. 
Even your family would not have you. You remember your mother’s wail as your father drove you off like some beast. ‘The gods have smited you themselves. You cannot remain or you will wreck ruin upon us all.’ 
Days of walking and tears, like the very storm that scarred you, a haze through which you trod until you could go no more. Until your head would split and the burnt flesh began to weep. A woman found you on the forest floor, rotting away from the corruption spreading through you. 
You don’t remember much of her. Only her touch and how she healed you. She bid you off with the cloak you wear and some food for your travels. Then you were alone and thus you remain. Not even the thieves will steal from you, nor the criminals darken your door. A curse is worth no piece of gold, no drop of blood. 
The pounding of rain relents. A chill creeps beneath the slats of your door and seep into the walls. You fill the earth with what kindling you have, the clay chimney puffing smoke up through the center of the roof. You hold your hands out to warm but find little comfort. 
You settle on your side beneath your cloak and stare into the flames. You shiver. It’s cold. Very cold. Typically, the rain chases away the chill but this is different. You can feel it in the ground. You curl up tight, clinging to your warmth, let your eyes close. Sleep comes but for lack of and not peacefully. 
Your dreams are a maelstrom. There a flames and ice, one after the other, sometimes together. Sharp pointed shards frozen and hanging, then licking tendrils of heat from below. You are lost in the land of sleep, tortured by a world built of your own fears and follies. 
You wake stiff and frigid. The fire has gone out. Not even smoke remains in the pile of ash. You move carefully, bones aching, scars tingling. You touch the hard ridging along your cheek and your fingers pulse from the cold. You can see your breath. 
How can it be? It was sunny before the rain. You get your feet under you and stand with a groan. Near the door, a strange dusting of white powders around the door, flecking in from beneath and around the edges. Snow? 
Were the tales true after all? You wince as suddenly your scars singe and sting. Ow. You recoil and cover your face with your hands, hissing and wheezing through the pain. It hurts terribly. Worse than even the first strike.  
You pull your hands away as your eyes water and you blink through your tears. You can see, at least in your good eye. There is no lightning, it is only in your mind. You shakily turn and search around. You cry out again as the agony surges once more in your head. 
Why? 
Your legs quake. Something is amiss. The frost has come and this meagre hut cannot withstand it. You take your rucksack and put what you can carry into it. Your water skin is strung across your chest and your pack upon your back. You wrap your boots with rags and your hands too. You haven’t the clothing for the cold but you will need to find something. Perhaps skin a hare or two. 
The door blows inward almost as soon as you touch it, another gust nearly bowling you over. You sway with the wind and cling to the crooked doorframe. You shove yourself out, just as quickly flattened to the wall by a flurry of snow. It dusts your face coldly and you pull up your neck scarf over your nose and pull your hood into place. 
You set off, hunched, reaching with your arms as you lift your knees over the treacherous heaps. You keep close to the rock wall. The thought of turning back stops you but it seems as foolish an idea. The hovel cannot hold for much longer. You need to get to the mouth of the cave and chance a sleeping bear within. 
You sidle along, slowed by the snow and the wind, the former soaking through your clothing as the latter whips around your hood. Suddenly, a roll of thunder, like war drums, churns in the air. The word dims and the furor sounds again; louder, closer. 
You cry out and lift an arm to shield yourself instinctively. You curl your hand into the rockface and holler even louder, closing your eyes as your memory summons another storm. No, it cannot be. Not again.  
A deafening boom shakes the ground and knocks you to your knees. You crawl along, keeping low near the ragged stone, those hidden beneath the snow jabbing against your palms. You whimper and whine, blinded by the thickening curtain all around you. 
Yet you never heard of the god raining down snow upon the lands. Only the slaking rains and the hot violence of his bolts. Never this. What sword has he broken this time? Perhaps it was his very own hammer.
The thunder overhead continues its horrid thrum as more pulses in the earth. Boom, boom, boom. You feel it beneath your hands. Your knees come down clumsily as you scramble through the piling powder. You open your eyes and still cannot see. The world is smudge in gray white and black, the sky flashing and darkening from one moment to the next. 
You cry out again as your scars burn. You push yourself back on your heels and grasp your face as you shriek. It hurts! So bad! Your eyes well and flow over. Your body trembles and collapses. You writhe in the snow, contorting with the agony as your flesh feels as if it is splitting. 
Beneath the incessant pounding comes a rocky noise. Like laughter it curdles in the air and chases after you like the steady boom, boom, boom. Closer and closer, louder and louder, the earth quakes in tandem with the cacophony. 
“I’ve found another,” the deep voice scoffs and snickers, “ah, Heimdall, you must see this--” 
The craterous voice halts and the air still. The snow drifts but the wind stops and the thunder relents, the world seeming to hum. You scratch at your face as the flames grow unbearable. You must be alight. It can be the only reason for such pain. 
The large figure, a blurry silhouette in your skewed vision, looms like a mountain. He steps over you, sliding a foot between you and the cave wall and flips you onto your back. You stare up at the sky, rolling in sheets of grey and black, the dark figure standing above, blotting out the clouds. You sob and plead. 
“Make it stop!” You beg as your hood falls back, “kill me! Kill me! It hurts.” 
He bends as your eyes roll back and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He pulls you half off the ground, not a single grunt for the effort. You feel whoever, whatever it is, looking down at you; upon you. A rattle rises in his gritty throat. 
“And what are you?” He breathes. 
You feel another surge and babble, reining in your wild eyes as you quiver uncontrollably. You make yourself look at him. You shudder and shake your head. Shaggy red hair, a braided beard, and eyes so blue they jolt you. Ink marks one side of his broad face as he wears fur upon his soldiers beneath emblems of the godly lands. 
“It hurts...” you rasp, “I am dying.” 
“You...” he grabs your chin, holding you by your shoulder. His thumb extends up your face to touch the scars and you let out a shrill howl as the agony piques. You latch onto his thick arm and thrash. 
“It buuuuuuuurrnssssssssss,” you scream as your spine arches. 
“Hmm,” he hums and throws you into the snow. You continue your desperate wriggling, the fire softening but not leaving you completely, “Heimdall!” He calls out like a war horn, “get your skinny ass over here!” 
There’s a tinkle of coy laughter and lighter footsteps that land on the boulder above. Your eyes drift over and you see another shadow, this one hazier but smaller. A dusting of snow flies up beside you as the other man lands beside you. No, not a man. 
Heimdall? Son of Odin. 
“Oh, Thor, what trouble have you found--” 
“Another one,” the other growls. Not the other, Thor. The God of Thunder. The beast who marked you. “Father says they all must come.” 
“This one?” Heimdall muses as his voice spikes with humour, “why look at her. Pathetic—wait a moment... brother, is this your handiwork?” He squats to see you closer and snickers again, “why how very peculiar.” 
“Bring her,” Thor barks and spins on his heel, swinging his hammer, “we haven’t time--” 
“You bring her, brother. As you say, you are so much stronger--” 
“Just do it!” Thor snarls and a peel of thunder breaks through the clouds. “I need ale.” 
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drdemonprince · 2 days
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all the recent talk about not voting has me a bit worried, for lack of a better word.
on one hand, yes so much yes, stop throwing all your time and energy in the insatiable maw of electoral politics, 5/5, no notes.
but on the other hand, where does that time and energy go then? despite lots of talk about mutual aid it doesn't seem to progress much beyond the abstract (at least in the various leftist groups/communities/etc. in my neck of the woods). it's held up as an ideal and great big important thing, but when there's shit that needs doing, it's *crickets*.
maybe it's because so much mutual aid is care work and thus, and i very much disagree with even though i care not for the label, not real activism i guess? like, a while ago a disabled comrade had ran into housing issues because of their illness, so we rustled up some folks to help clean and unfuck their home. which, yet again, were the same (also disabled) people that always show for those things.
coming of four years and counting of pandemic, that's been a consistent pattern. at a time where mutual aid was so needed, such a vacuum left by a state that didn't and/or wanted to do shit, it still fell on the shoulders of disabled people to do all the actual work while the rest just talked about abstract shit. or, to name another thing, diy hrt initiative where it's just a bunch of poor ass trans people scrounging up money to pay for supplies for trans people who have fuck all access, while the rest debates in the abstract about a more better system or whether it's even something they need to concern themselves about.
and like, yes, not pissing away your energy pleading with assholes who don't give a fuck about you is good, but it should only be the start. it sometimes feels like the big plan is: 1) not vote, 2) ???, 3) glorious anarchism/communism/mutual-aidism. i'm not arguing that they need to have it all worked out, but with so much shit that needs doing in the here and now i get a little worried. because that's going to take real work, not talk, and they're not putting in any of it.
I mean, most people won't do (what gets viewed as) "real activism" either. They don't go to protests, smash windows, call jails to check on the status of incarcerated people, cut supply lines, or anything else. And they don't vote either.
We live in a highly individualistic, atomized society filled with people who have been conditioned into an abiding self-interested apathy, and everyone is overworked and broke as shit and juggling a bunch of disabilities while not having any experience with building genuine community and lacking most of the infrastructural and social tools to do so. The number of people who are avowed leftists is vanishingly small, and among them the people who actually walk the talk or have the education and community ties to even be able to is even smaller. Not disagreeing with your read of the situations you're dealing with here, just putting them within the broader context of many very similar problems that I see touch every single aspect of organizing today. even like the most tepid liberal get out the vote kind of organizing is plagued by this, and of course that is by design.
What gives me hope in the present moment is just how many people are completely fucking done with the prevailing system, and how many are refusing to play along with its rules. A lot of the people who aren't voting are not leftists. At least not yet. Just like many of the people who are quiet quitting and half-assing it at work or just vibing on unemployment for as long as they can are not communists. But they do know that the system is bunk and is failing them, and they are refusing to be compliant within it any longer. I believe that a lot of people's better natures do get inspired during a moment of collapse. I also think there is a profound rot at the heart of settler-colonial states that fills them with people who do not recognize themselves as having any responsibility to others. That's all the more reason for such an empire to fall.
I think you're right to worry for the future, though I don't think the reason to be worried is as simple as people not people caring about disabled folks, or any other group. I always wonder who the mythical abled people are who are abnegating their duty in such an understanding of the world. I sure haven't met any of them. I only meet people who are also disabled and don't realize it.
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I'm tired of seeing the Colin slander.
Like y'all are complaining that Colin isn't mature. Yeah that's his character arc, growing up. And guess what in the show he is in his early 20s a time when people grow and learn more about themselves. Part of Colin's journey is being uncomfortable being himself bc Society keeps saying himself is wrong so he acts more like his brothers and friends and finds no fulfillment in that.
Stop complaining about him being slow to pick up on Pen liking him or him liking her. It's common for people to not realize they have feelings for someone and need something like a kiss for them to figure it out. From personal experience there were plenty of times people have flirted with me and I didn't realize it until a day later. Also how was he supposed to know that Pen liked him when she never said anything and she always treated him the same as always.
Stop complaining about Colin's fboy era when Anthony, Simon, and Benedict act that way too. Especially Simon and Anthony who definitely visited brothels before they realized their feelings.
Stop saying Colin needs to do more to grovel and show love for Pen. A) he just figured out his feelings for her B) have you forgotten about all their previous interactions in this show C) the bad thing he has done is say he would never court Pen, which Pen confronted him about and he felt bad about it. Compare this to what Simon pulled in S1 Colin is a saint D) see paragraph 2 E) the carriage scene
It's ok to not like a character bc you don't vibe with them. It feels like people are grasping at straws so they can find a reason to not like Colin.
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It has to happen because you made the rules
Hi babyyyy
I hope you’re not procrastinating
I feel like you are
Lemme tell you this then
STOP PROCRASTINATING STOP BEING LAZY
Dude you’re literally just laying down
How much lazier could getting in the void state get?
You’re “trying”
You’re asking “how”
There’s only so many “how’s” before you realize
There’s no more information to pile up
How about you just lay down
Forget everything your desires included
Just chill
My baby you’re too cute to be stressed
Stop doing that
Yo you don’t get this stressed to go to sleep do you?
I’m confused
So you can say dream
Sleep
Disassociate
Fantasize etc
You mean to tell me you can do ALL THESE THINGS THAT MAKE YOU FORGET ABOUT YOUR 3D
But you can’t get in the void?
Yeah that’s right
You can’t
Why?
Cuz you assumed it
This is your life bitch
So why are you fighting against yourself?
You’re the one who discovered this
You’re the one who has been here since the beginning of YOUR time(birth)
You’re the one who’s gonna be in YOUR life forever
And YOU discovered the void and LOA
So if anything
Your self concept should be sky high
Cuz you’re that bitch
And you’ll always be
Nobody is above you
We are all baddies
We are all god
We are all powerful
All you’re doing
Is what I always tell you
On my other posts
Lay down
Use a method or don’t
It’s up to you
Use a subliminal or don’t
Your choice
But vibe
Literally don’t even think of your desires and don’t think of the void as a place
It’s not a place
It’s an experience
You dream
Not a place but an experience
Everything you’re doing
Even right now is an experience
Your home is a place
But you living in it and doing things in it
Is experiencing it
Experience is not equivalent to a place because places like homes restaurants etc are just places
Experiences would be whatever happens IN those places but it’s got nothing to do with the buildings
It’s what YOU are doing that creates the experience you had/have
It’s the energy that you have your awareness
Like you could see a house
Cool
By creating memories IN that house
You experienced living in it
That creates such experiences
I know it sounds confusing but let me break it down
The void is not a place
It’s an experience
Because when you’re openly willing to experience something you’re unconsciously giving yourself freedom and power and control to do that thing
Like I said
OPENLY experiencing
Because I know we all “experienced”(I’m tired of using this word now lol) some things that weren’t good
But guess what
You still hold the power to change those “experiences”
The void is inside of you
You can’t “go” there
You become aware of it and you experience it
It’s not a house
It’s not the bakery
It’s you
Your desires were yours the moment you said that you wanted it so there’s no need to worry or constantly try to get in the void only to get your desires if that’s your only goal
You’re cooked
Because why as a god
Are you so desperate to get your desires?
Chill bro
Your subconscious knows you better than you do
Because it developed way faster than you it makes up 95% of our brain power
You come out the womb already knowing how to cry
How to blink
Etc
Yes you eventually learn to walk crawl etc
Why
Because it was embedded into your subconscious mind in how to do that
You can still walk
And you’re how old? Think about it
Your subconscious mind IS THAT powerful it remembers everything you learned as a baby
It remembers things you don’t
Like mastering the void as a newborn
Who knows how many times we’ve probably accidentally gotten in the void as a little baby
I’ve heard stories about people saying they had to get in the void as a CHILD! But they didn’t know what it was
It’s meant to happen
You discovered the void
Not by accident
Although we can all enter everyday me in the world is capable what makes you special is that
YOU know you can
Others don’t
You discovered it for a reason
It’s meant to be
Things that are meant for you
A apart of you and it can never be APART from you
The void is kinda like your soulmate
It’s gonna always be there
It’s always been with you
Will always be
And no matter how much you procrastinate complain overcomplicate stress over nothing
You’re still gonna enter the void
Why
Because this was your first experience
You’re a pro at this already
You’ve been unconsciously doing this since your mothers womb
If you do something repeatedly on accident you can do it on purpose
Good day
Much love 🩵🩵
P.S Everyone has different opinions on what the void is
Or how they enter
This is mine only flow with what you resonate with
I love you Good Luck Queens!!!!
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amuyyi · 1 day
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y/n + her plants .
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synopsis; just 3 little drabbles of y/n being the only extrovert and obsessed with plants.
trope; le sserafim x 6th member!reader, platonic , just silly poorly written stuff
wc; 2.0k
cw; none
a/n; im ngl this is just a self indulgent self insert of the author. i love female friendships! also i was half asleep writing this, but i really like the 2nd clip idk it makes me giggle a little :3 i had planned to write more, but i got tired soooo... also did not spellcheck at the end zzz please read my other works if u actually want decently written stuff
Clip 1: 
It was your turn to turn in a vlog for the week, and you decided to utilize this time to do a room tour. You grin into the camera as you make your way to you and Yunjin’s shared bedroom, opening the door and showing the interior to the camera. It was a spacious room, with posters and photographs plastered all along the walls alongside other decor such as string lights, unique shaped mirrors, and endless figurines and trinkets lined on the shelves. One of the most prominent features of the room though was the amount of pure green all throughout. There were plants quite literally everywhere. On the windowsill, hanging off the ceiling, held up on the wall, on the floor, the tables, the shelves. It felt like just about any free space was touched by mother nature herself.
You grin sheepishly as you explain, “Not many people know this– well I guess now many people will know this, but I am a super big plant person!”
The camera slowly pans over all of the plants as well as some of Yunjin’s belongings, including her guitar, glasses, and some smiski’s you two co-parent. “Thankfully Yunjin doesn’t mind me hogging up some space for my babies, and I pay her back in smiski figurines!!” Grabbing hold of a little green man on the table that was struggling to put on a sweater, you shove its face into the camera as you giggle, “I think this one's my favorite, me and Yunjin are still trying to come up with a name for him.”
You look around, trying to figure out which plant to showcase first before you catch sight of one particular plant you enjoy. “Oh! I want to show you guys my favorite pot…” The camera pans to a comically large and rather beat up leather boot, which humbly held home to a mini monstera within its space. 
“It was a random shoe I found near a river during filming one time. Viney here seems to enjoy it,” You grin, accidentally letting it slip that you name every single one of your plants as well as touch random garbage you find outside before you showcase another “pot,”  being a mug that had the words “Live Laugh Love” plastered boldly on the side as you snicker, “this one just makes me laugh. Jen hates it, but I don’t think she can recognize the beauty in irony.”
You let out a sigh as you make your way towards your bed, plopping down onto it as you speak. “Y’know, I personally believe I’m a great candidate to collaborate on a show with Chuu, Tsuki, and Yuqi sunbaenim,” the ramble starts, completely derailing from the original topic of plants as you speak. Your tone is lighthearted and playful, but you’re being completely serious as you continue, “I want to do a bunch of random jobs and harass random people on the street!! I’m perfectly capable of doing that! I’d do that even if I wasn’t getting paid!” 
You start to laugh, realizing how ridiculous you started to sound, but you didn’t care, you pressed the topic on. “If I weren't an idol I’d make a great farmer! Why haven’t I gotten invited to be a farmer with Chuu sunbaenim??” An endless string of various other jobs as well as explanations behind why you would qualify for every one of them begins to spew out of your mouth. You were always a major talker, and quite literally had no filter nor shame when it came to what you had to say. More often than not, you were leading conversations at social events if Chaewon hadn’t already beat you to it– and having alone time with your own thoughts and a camera to record it all was a recipe for disaster.
At the end of your rant, you find yourself slightly winded before making direct eye contact with the camera, pointing your finger directly into it as you announce, “If any TV company is out there watching this right now, this is my application to be a guest on one of your shows! Any job will do, I’ll do it! But just know I’ll leave you farmers in the dust if you put me out in the fields. Watch your back.”
As a last “threat” to broadcasters all around the world, you threateningly do a “I’m watching you” gesture with your hand before placing your hand over the camera, ending the vlog.
Clip 2:
Eunchae spins around the dorm building, giving the viewers on the livestream a living room tour as she looks around, coming up with random things to showcase on the spot. So far, she’s shown off the inside of the fridge, their oven, and underneath the couch. The young girl’s eyebrows furrow as she contemplates what to show fearnots next, her eyes landing on your precious arrangement of houseplants that you lovingly arranged in front of the balcony door. Eunchae clears her throat dramatically as she turns the camera towards your plants, squatting down next to them as she makes sure the audience can see both her and them within the frame.
“As you guys can see here, we have y/n’s plants… She's COVERED the apartment full of them, Chaewon unnie has to scold her every time she brings one home.” She giggles into the camera before shaking her head, “I’m convinced she loves those things more than us…” 
Faint rustling could be heard within the background, and Eunchae turns her head, opening her mouth as if to call out to whoever was home, but she pauses.An imaginary light bulb goes off in her head as Eunchae gasps, looking straight into the camera as she grins mischievously. “I have an idea… Watch this!” She scrambles onto the floor, laying flat on her stomach on top of the floor tile as she props her phone up against the wall hidden behind a stool. The camera perfectly showcases the plants, the living room, and the curtains covering the screen door. 
[ynniez] – oh no… [huhjin001] – this is going to be good [2ningz] - 🥸🥸🥸
The giggles can't seem to stop as Eunchae hops onto her feet and immediately dashes behind the curtains, pressing her finger up to her lips towards the camera in a “shh…!” motion before she disappears. 
“Eunchae?” your voice rings out as you return to your living quarters, grocery bags in hand as the camera perfectly captures your entrance. You don’t think much of the silence that follows as you place the bags down, making your way over to your plants with a grin.
 “Hello my lovelies~” You say to your plants, squatting down to examine them individually before grabbing hold of the watering can nearby. As you lift up the can, Eunchae suddenly bursts through the curtains, exclaiming “BOO!” as loud as possible, resulting in you screaming at a decibel twice as high. 
Unfortunately for the maknae, she had failed to foresee the possibility of you watering your plants at this exact moment– resulting in you blindly chucking 90% of the water inside the can towards the culprit in a panic. Eunchae stands there frozen, oversized sweatshirt and hair absolutely soaked with her mouth agape as she stares at you in complete shock. 
“What THE FU– EUNCHAE??” You yell out, watching the younger girl simply freeze in front of you like a wet cat. You switch to English for just one moment, simply saying, “Girl…” as you clutch your hand over your heart, trying to steady the rapid beating.
Eunchae’s shocked expression shifts into one of glee as her mouth still remains open, now smiling as her body rotates to where the phone hid, silently pointing in the general direction of the camera as she tries not to burst out into laughter on the spot.
You stare at her in complete confusion before following her finger, eyes finally landing on the livestream as your eyes widen, suddenly feeling very exposed in her own home. “No way you just got all of that on camera…”
Eunchae finally allows the laughter to flow, as she suddenly spreads her arms out, inching her way towards you. “You did this to me, unnie!!!” She roars, making attempts to trap you in a hug as you scream, running offscreen as the live abruptly ends.
Clip 3:
You’re seen with your face comically close to the camera, a habit that soon became a signature of your livestreams as you watch the viewers and comments roll in. You glaze over them before flipping the camera around, showing Sakura within the kitchen, wearing a pink apron and plastic gloves as she cuts up some vegetables. “Hi everyone!! Today, Kkura unnie and I are making omelets for the girls with microgreens I’ve grown MYSELF in OUR apartment!!” You loudly exclaim, shoving the camera close to the cutting board as Sakura rolls her eyes, chuckling at the sight as you eventually point the camera elsewhere.
“You did a very good job growing these y/n-nnie. They look great.” The comment from the older girl made you shy, and you flip the camera back to your face as you place a hand on your cheek, “hehe, thank you Kkura-unnie~” you coo, shifting your gaze back to the viewers before sighing.
“I grew all kinds of stuff in here, like basil, arugula, cilantro, kale…” You trail off, counting the number of edible plants you’ve grown on your finger before continuing, “but I could make so much more if I had a full blown garden!!” You whine, and Sakura could be seen in the background rolling her eyes, playfully commenting, “not this again…”
You dramatically lean on Sakura’s back with your own despite her already being hunched over while chopping as you sigh even louder this time, “I’m serious unnie!! The stuff I could grow for you guys.. You would have a whole salad in one place!!”
Leaving the older member to her task, you place the camera down before grabbing some eggs and cracking them into a bowl, impressively doing so with only one hand each as the comments complimented your skill.
[makna33] – master chef y/n?? [nay00n1] – girl what cant u do…
A laugh escapes your lips as you beat the eggs, “guys, its not that impressive. Besides, I don’t cook nearly as often or as well as Kkura-unnie.” The compliment garners a small smile from the other girl seen in the corner of the screen as you continue on, “anyways, if I had my own garden in the building, I would graft the best tomatoes ever… I’d be real life Frankenstien creating the perfect tomato!” You start, knowing that most likely nobody would actually care for your facts, but you shared anyways, this was YOUR live after all.
“Oh! We’re also using my basil today in one of the omelets. Guys, if you’re ever growing your own basil at home, make sure to pinch off the flowers! It makes it tastier!!” You point the chopsticks you used to whisk the egg at your phone camera, and some of the yolk is thrown onto the screen as your eyes widen, looking back at Sakura to make sure she didn't see what you just did. 
You quickly wipe off the gunk before returning to your kitchen duties as if nothing happened, “These eggs are gonna be so good… Though, I did have a pretty bad mealybug problem with the greens at some point… Do you guys know what those are? They’re like these little white dusty bugs that suck the sap out of your plants if you don’t do anything about them. I had SO MANY. But I refused to give up on em and now they're critter free!”
“Yah! Y/n! Don’t talk about the bugs in your plants!! The girls won’t want to eat it then!” Sakura scolds, playfully kicking your side with her leg as she focuses on frying the eggs.
You giggle as you look into the camera, “oops– don’t tell them that there used to be bugs in their food.” 
“WHAT?!”
The sound of Kazuha and Chaewon’s shrill voice rings out in the live, and you immediately slam your phone down, giving the viewers a black screen before the live ends.
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siythn · 1 day
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Cruel Summer (feat. Megumi Fushiguro) [Limited Edition CD]
MEGUMIXREADER! It seemed like summer just brought the both of you together somehow. Although, you and Megumi had always been kind of attached. Maybe it was the hot summer days, or the secrecy of your relationship. One thing was for sure, you wouldn't mind it being longer than a summer fling. ❝AND I SNUCK THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE, EVERY NIGHT THAT SUMMER JUST TO SEAL MY FATE❞ (LOVER MASTERLIST)
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The mission had been brutal, it’s obvious by the bags starting to appear under your eyes. As you and Megumi walked back to Jujutsu Tech, you couldn't help but notice the deep frown etched on his face, his brow furrowed in that all-too-familiar expression of annoyance.
"What's so funny?" he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
You stifled another giggle, trying to compose yourself but failing miserably. "It's just. . .you look like you ate something sour. I can't take you seriously when you're making that face."
Megumi's frown deepened, as if to convince you to feel sorry for him. The glint of amusement in his eyes spoke louder. "I'm injured, you know. A little sympathy wouldn't hurt."
You nudged his shoulder playfully. "Oh, poor Megumi. Should I get you some candy to cheer you up?"
He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile. "You're impossible."
Unable to contain your laughter, you burst out giggling, slightly turning away from him to hide your face; trying to stop the attack. "And you're grumpy. It's a perfect match."
Without warning, Megumi shoved your shoulder lightly, causing you to stumble forwards. "Hey!" you exclaimed, still laughing. "What was that for?"
"For being a pain," he shot back, but his tone was light, and you could see the humor caught in the corner wrinkles of his eyes. He slowed his pace, letting you catch up, and you walked side by side in comfortable silence for a few moments.
As you entered the nursery at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi's steps became more deliberate, you quickly picked on the limp every two steps. Concern replaced your laughter as you saw the extent of his injuries, before it came to a stop. "Come on," you said gently, guiding him to a comfortable chair. "Let's get you patched up."
Megumi sat with stillness on the padded chair, wincing slightly as he shrugged off his bloodstained jacket. "You don't have to do this, you know," he muttered, eyes flicking to the side as he watched you gather the first aid supplies. Despite his words that came off in embarrassment, it was clear he was appreciative of the act.
You smiled, unfazed. "Someone has to take care of you, and it's certainly not going to be you." You knelt beside him, carefully dabbing at the gash on his arm with antiseptic. "Hold still."
He hissed slightly at the sting, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, come on, Megumi. You've faced curses that would make most people faint, and you're flinching at a little alcohol?"
"Maybe I just like the attention," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips. His dark hair fell into his eyes, but even through the strands, you could see the mischief he carried within himself.
Rolling your eyes, you began wrapping the bandage around his arm, deliberately pulling it a tad too tight. He cringed, making you grin up at him. "Oops, sorry about that. Guess I'm just nervous being so close to a big, tough sorcerer like you."
Megumi's smirk widened. "Oh, really? Because it seems to me you're taking advantage of my weakened state."
You shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I am. Someone has to keep you in check."
As you finished securing the bandage, you gave his arm a gentle pat. "There, all done. Now, let's see if we can get rid of that pain." Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his bandaged arm, looking up at him with a tease in your eye. "Better?"
Megumi's gaze softened, and in a swift movement, he reached out, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Not quite," he murmured before capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.
Caught off guard, you felt your heart race, a deep warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the hot summer day. As you kissed him back, you couldn't help but smile, breaking away just enough to whisper, "People are going to see us." You cast a quick glance around, but the nursery seemed as deserted as ever. But still, that itchy feeling of paranoia gnawed at your mind.
You can’t really place when you officially started to like the black-haired male. It just sort of came to you one hot day in July, watching him train with his divine dogs. As odd of a sight it was, you couldn’t help the admiration in your stare.
It wasn’t long before Megumi picked it up. While the both of you shared a meal, you slipped up and confessed. One look from him confirmed your feelings, and the both of you accepted the terms of this new relationship. The both of you sworn to keep it hidden, although. Plus, it made your skin crawl to think of Yuji and Nobara pestering the both of you about it.
You couldn’t help but like the secrecy, moments like these made it more exciting to experience young love. It was obvious Megumi probably liked it more.
"Let them," Megumi replied, his voice low and firm, pulling you back into another kiss. This time, you let yourself let go the moment, forgetting the thoughts that intruded your mind. His lips were soft but insistent, and you melted into the embrace.
When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart. The reason why the both of you ending up in the nursery long forgotten. The golden sunlight filtered through the shutters of the window above, casting a warm glow on Megumi's features. His usually stoic expression was softened by the tender moment, his dark eyes holding an emotion you’ve had the chance to see with this new profound relationship.
"You're really something, you know that?" you said softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
He smiled, a rare genuine smile that not many had the privilege to say they see everyday, it made your heart skip a beat. "I could say the same about you."
For a moment, you both just stared at each other, time not seeming to bother the both of you. The sunlight highlighted the contours of his face, making his eyes appear even more intense. You felt a giggle bubble up inside you, unable to contain the joy of the moment.
Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a soft laugh. "We're a mess, aren't we?"
Megumi chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." He wrapped an arm snug around your waist, holding you close.
As you sat there together, the sun setting and casting long shadows across the garden, you couldn’t find the motivation to care if the both of you got caught. As long as you were here, wrapped in his arms, what would really hurt you?
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BONUS SCENE: The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the Jujutsu Tech pool. It wasn’t used much, but when it was, it had always been a field day.
Clearly that reflected on you and Megumi sitting on the pool's edge, thoroughly exhausted from your splash fight and playful wrestling in the water. Both of you were soaked, bathing suits clinging to your bodies, but the laughter and joy in your faces made the discomfort worth it.
A half-eaten watermelon slice lays on a plate between you, the perfect refreshment after the exertion. You picked up the watermelon, the sticky juice already running down your fingers, and took a bite before offering it to Megumi. "Your turn," you said, squealing when the juice started to drip onto your lap.
Megumi leaned in, taking a big bite and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is a mess," he muttered, but the gaze he held with the fruit clearly suggested he wanted more. He leaned down one more time to finish it off.
"You think?" you replied with a laugh. "It's worth it, though."
Megumi picked up another full slice, holding it up to your lips. "Here, let me."
You leaned forward, taking a bite and trying not to laugh as more juice dribbled down your chin. "You're terrible at this," you teased, your eyes meeting his as you leaned up to continue chewing.
Just as Megumi was about to feed you another bite, you both froze. The sound of footsteps approaching quickly gave you no time to act, and you turned to see Yuji standing at the edge of the pool, his mouth agape. You slowly wipe your face in shock.
"Uh, hey," Yuji said, his eyes wide with realization. "Am I interrupting something?"
You and Megumi exchanged a glance. The both of you knew there was no getting out of this, especially with how close the two of you were. Megumi cleared his throat, his usual stoic demeanor faltering. "It's not what it looks like," he began, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.
Yuji's eyes lit up with understanding, and he broke into a wide grin. "Oh, I see! You two are dating!" His excitement was palpable, and you could see the gears turning in his head as he connected the dots.
You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. "Well, I guess the secret's out," you said, looking at Megumi with amusement.
Megumi sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is." He puts down eaten slice of watermelon before intertwining your fingers.
Yuji's grin only widened. "That's awesome! I had no idea. You guys make a great couple."
"Thanks, Yuji," you said, still chuckling. "Just maybe keep it on the down-low for now, okay?"
"Of course," Yuji agreed, his excitement undimmed. "But seriously, this is great. I'm happy for you guys."
Yuji spent one last on gaze the both of you one last glance before walking away, leaving you and Megumi to your watermelon and your quiet moment by the pool. With a moment of silence, you felt a warm glow of contentment. You leaned your head on Megumi's shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness.
”He’s not gonna keep his mouth shut, is he?" you murmured, echoing your earlier words.
Megumi chuckled softly, his arm wrapping around you. "Probably not."
You smiled, the sun setting behind you and casting long shadows over the pool. In that moment, everything felt okay. Just right, in your words.
Is what you would’ve said before you heard the heavy steps of running and the shouts of Nobara quickly approaching, Yujis screaming echoing down the halls. In the corner of your eye, you glance at Megumi, conveying the message in the stare.
“It’s fine, let her see.”
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hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.
if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3
/p
(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O
Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.
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Engineer:
- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.
- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.
- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.
- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.
- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.
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Sniper:
- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.
- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.
- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”
- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.
- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)
- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.
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Medic:
- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.
- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?
- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!
- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!
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