#me: gets too high and gets distracted mid answering
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Summary: At your boyfriend Onyankopon's backyard pool, what could happen?
Onyankopon x Black Fem Reader SMUT
“girl I wanna handle you, put my hands up on you, baby…” you softly sang while scrolling through your boyfriend Onyankopon’s phone. you were in your own little world, lightly swaying in the water of his backyard pool as you queued up music. you were wearing a sparkly pink bikini that left very little to the imagination, Onya feared that during any little movement, your tits would spill out.
you and Onya hadn’t gone very far in your relationship, the most you’ve done so far was heated make-out sessions. you were a shy little thing when Onya first met you so he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. he opted to smoke a blunt to calm his nerves tonight, he asked if you wanted a hit but you said no.
instead of feeling relaxed, he became hyper-aware of your second lips slipping out of your bikini. he was trying his best to be respectful and not look but it was so hard, especially when you bent over to shake your ass, making waves in the water when your favourite songs came on.
you were taking sneak peeks at Onya as he smoked on the other side of the pool not wanting you to get a “second hand” high. but the herbal scent still wafted close. your man was so fine, he had a freshly done taper fade that exposed his chiselled jaw. his chest tattoo was on full display and his neck was decorated with a gold chain that held your initials in cursive with a little heart. the reflection of light off of the pool gave his dark skin a glowing hue.
you could feel yourself grow wetter in the pool, your fluid tainting your boyfriend's pool. you looked back down at the phone to distract yourself. but you couldn't help but want to relieve the feeling.
Onya watched you with the gaze of a hunter stalking its prey. he wanted to know what you tasted like, you always filled his nostrils with the sweet scent of cocoa butter. he imagined that you would taste no different.
“when you gon let me eat you out babygirl?” Onya’s husky voice echoed in the empty backyard. your eyes widened in shock at his blunt statement but the words went straight to your core. Onya shocked himself as well, he was thinking about it but he he wasn’t going to say it. you slowly turned around to look at your boyfriend seeing him put out the end of his blunt, he said it so he was gonna stand on it.
“Onya! what are you…” you stopped mid-sentence making eye contact with his red eyes. he was manspreading on the edge of the pool, his wet trunks sticking to his skin exposing his boner but he wasn’t ashamed. he followed your eyes smiling when he found what you were looking at. he jumped into the pool and slowly made his way over to you, holding eye contact till he got too close and you broke it. you looked to the side nervously, your lower stomach was doing flips.
“you ain’t hear what I said?” his usual deep voice sounded hoarse as he whispered in your ear. he pulled back to look at you, loving the way you were turning into putty without him even touching you. you guys were so close but so far, you backed into the wall when Onya came close but he had you trapped now. he let his question hang in the air waiting for your answer.
“I did” you whispered, still avoiding eye contact. he didn’t even have to touch you and you were already losing it. you wanted him so bad, but you were speechless. the tension was so thick it was suffocating.
“you gon let me have a taste?” he asked. you nodded your head, biting your lip. finally, given the green light he’s been looking for, Onya pounced on you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. he took your ass in his palms, groping you as he pulled you closer. you gasped into the kiss and he used the opportunity to slither his tongue into your mouth. you closed your eyes and wrapped your hands around his neck pulling him in deeper, feeling your tongues mould together.
the spicy taste of the weed was present in his mouth but there was an underlying sweetness of the honey candy he was always sucking. without breaking the kiss Onya grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you onto the ledge of the pool, situating him in between your legs as he stood tall in the pool. he took the chance to grind into you, feeling you melt into the kiss.
your boyfriend's tongue gently sucked on yours swallowing up your moans, it wasn't long till you were out of breath. he felt you pulling back but he grabbed you by the back of the neck so you couldn’t break this kiss. his other hand moved to play with the strings of your bikini at your hips, slowly untying them.
only when he started feeling you gasp for breath he pulled back, breaking the string of saliva between your lips. you looked up at him with blown-out pupils and the view went straight to his dick, your soft lips swollen, your perky nipples from the cool air, your brown skin glistening and the invisible locs that framed your sculpted face. you were perfect in his eyes.
Onya bit his big plump lips as he peeled your bikini off, he was salivating at the thought of finally seeing lil ma. but before he could reveal her you grabbed onto his strong arms and closed your legs.
“wait Onya!” he rolled his eyes but waited for you to speak. “we’re outside, what if one of your neighbours sees us?” you didn’t really care about his neighbours if you were being honest, you just wanted a second to breathe. you’ve never had a guy go down on you so you didn’t know what to expect and you were a little nervous.
Onya didn’t say anything as he got out of the pool beside you and walked over to the towels on the lawn chairs. you looked at his back in worry, did you make him mad? you watched silently as he walked back over to you with an intense burning in his eyes. he wrapped the towel over your wet body before picking you and your discarded bikini up.
you wrapped your legs around his waist shivering at the feeling of the cold night air against your exposed core and his hard-on rubbing against your stomach. he kicked open the glass door and hastily made his way across the living room and into his bedroom. he dropped you softly onto the bed, briefly exposing your lower half before you fixed the towel.
“is this better?” he looked deep into your eyes trying to sense any discomfort. you shuffled under the intensity of his gaze. Onyankopon was always such a gentleman, no matter how heated things got he never went further if you didn’t want to. but you were getting a bit frustrated, it’s not that you never wanted things to go further you just didn’t know how to initiate things.
“I need to hear you say yes baby,” he asked, sensing your hesitation. despite his demeanour, Onya was slowly losing it, he wanted you, no, he needed you. he was desperate to get a taste of you at this point if you said no he could see himself getting on his knees to beg.
“I want you, Onya,” you affirmed, holding his gaze. your boyfriend didn’t waste any more time. he dropped to his knees on the floor and grabbed you by the ankles to pull you toward the end of his king size bed. he was moving like a starved man, he made quick work of the towel and your bra leaving you exposed. but he couldn’t help but stare at you in awe, his beautiful girlfriend bare before him.
“stop staring, it’s embarrassing.” you lightly kicked his shoulder to get him out of his trance. he was staring at your naked body for so long you were starting to feel a little self-conscious. his gaze was intense, you could see the yearning in his deep brown eyes.
“you’re so beautiful, I can't help it.” he smiled up at you before he got to work. Onya grabbed the underneath of your thighs and pushed them up so they were out of the way. exposing your glistening two toned lips.
“shit, you ever touch yourself down here?” Onya hissed looking at your tiny hole. his dick jumped at the sight but he didn't think he would be able to fuck it tonight. it would be a tight fit. he would have to stretch you out and get you used to something smaller first, like his fingers.
“when I think about you,” you airly confessed. you looked up at the ceiling thinking of the countless nights after Onya dropped you home after hours of steamy makeout sessions that led to nothing. where his hands would ghost over your zipper unaware of your throbbing core desperate for his touch. how the thick material of his jeans prevented you from feeling his dick.
when you got home you would busy yourself playing with your little bud. imagining how Onya would fuck you, how he'd fill you up so well. on the days your dripping cunt miserably clenched around nothing, you would shove a finger or two to fulfil your fantasy of your boyfriend pounding into you.
“so you've been holding out on me?” Onya kept a steady hold on your plush thighs while he spread your lips with his right. he was able to witness the clear fluid gushing out of you. he dragged his forefinger around your hole collecting the liquid before pushing his middle finger past your tight muscle. “that's not very nice.”
“Onyaaa” you squealed out gripping the sheets.
“your fucking leaking babygirl” after giving you time to adjust he slowly inserted his ring finger. he loved the way your pink hole readily sucked him in, contrasting against your brown lips. “you a squirter? or you cream?”
“don't know” Onyankopon’s well-manicured fingers were prodding at spots your small fingers couldn’t reach. it had you twisting and turning in the sheets not knowing if you wanted to run away from the onslaught of pleasure or invite more.
“guess we'll both find out,” Onya loved how sensitive you were. when he pulled his fingers out your hips chased after. you let out airy moans and high-pitched mewls when he nudged your delicate spots.
Onyakopon looked up at you relishing in your beauty. your eyes were locked on him now but he could tell you were out of it. your brows were burrowing as you concentrated on the budding sensation on your lower abdomen.
you could feel him spreading you, he was doing a scissoring motion inside you. before you felt him slip a third finger into your dripping wet cunt. this felt way better than when you touched yourself alone.
now able to move his wrists more freely, Onyankopon started to curl his fingers against the roof of your core. goading out more of your translucent sap when he pushed in and out. the sounds of your wetness were mixing in with your moans.
his fingers were drenched. he was drooling just looking at it, he needed to have a taste. this time when he pulled out he removed his hands completely but it was replaced with a warm, wet feeling. you knew immediately that it was his tongue.
“mhmm,” your boyfriend let out a guttural moan at the taste of you. you were like a cold sweet lemonade after a long day of hard work in the sun, delicious. after he delivered a few kitten licks to your slit lapping up your slick he knew he was addicted and craved more.
“i'ma get it wet like a jacuzzi, and sex with me so amazing” rihanna’s song softly rang through the house from the speaker your boyfriend left playing outside due to his haste. but boy was it an understatement.
“ohmygod, Onya!” your hands found themselves on his head when he started suckling at your clit. you were grinding against his open mouth turning into putty from the mind-numbing pleasure.
“don’t stop, please!” you cried out even though he showed no signs of slowing or stopping. he licked from your hole to slit, sometimes dipping his wet muscle in to tongue-fuck you. the way you clenched around it was enough to tell him you were close.
“wasn't planning on it, just hold on for me ok baby?” Onya didn’t give you any time to process what he said before he inserted his fingers back into your soaking pussy. his lips still attached to your swollen nub giving you the best of both worlds. the onslaught of pleasure quickly had your legs begin to shake.
your hands locked into his short kinks grabbing at what you could. “m close, so close Onya” you were fiercely grinding into his face now. Onya loved it, you were using his face to get off like a fucking toy. your eyes were screwed shut as you focused on reaching your peak. you were so close you could taste it. “mhm mhm”
“can I cum Onya? pretty please?” Onyankopon thought it was cute that you thought you needed his permission to cum. even in your desperation, you were being such a good girl for him. so who was he to deny his sweet princess?
“uh huh” Onya didn’t bother to remove his lips to reply, busying himself with your clit while his fingers plunged into your throbbing cunt. the little vibration was enough to send you over the edge. and you plummeted hard.
“Onyaaa” you squealed out as the pleasure flooded your body. leaving your limbs trembling in its wake. “fuck fuck!” Onyankopon removed his mouth from your pulsating clit but focused on riding you through your orgasm with his fingers.
“shit, you do both” Onya ogled at his hands. when he pulled his fingers out they were covered in a creamy white paste. but still, a colourless liquid gushing out from your gaping hole. your empty whole was quivering at the loss of his fingers. your body let out little hiccups in attempt to calm itself.
“Onya…” you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend stuffing his fingers into his mouth. despite your previous orgasm, you felt yourself get wet again watching him lick and suck at the fingers he had shoved in you just a moment ago.
“I can't help myself, you just taste so good.”
#anime smut#aot smut#x black reader#aot x black reader#black reader smut#black y/n#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon smut#onyankopon x reader#black coded reader#fem reader#smut#aot x reader
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Fictober23 Prompt: 25 - "Do I look like I knew that?"
Fandom: DPxDC
Rating: T
Warnings: -
A/N: Edit - adjusted the last bit a little after rereading this during my break, so that it makes grammatically more sense...
There was no warning. The moment the Waynes had stepped into the main hall of this Gala they had not been prepared for what had been about to happen. The only sign they had gotten was Damian tensing for a split second before the youngest of them booked it across the hall.
Tim and Bruce instantly attempted damage control, distracting all the high society people that had noticed it, while Dick and Jason followed their youngest. Cass had already escaped the gala to the roof before they had set their first foot into the main hall.
But again, nothing could have prepared them for what was happening.
Damian not only had seen something that caused him to sprint across the room no, their Demon Brat had gone a step further and just tackled the kid of someone else over and was now wrestling with the other boy! Holding one of the daggers they must have missed to the other boy's neck.
Surprisingly, the other kid held himself pretty well against Damian. Jason and Dick spent a good five minutes just staring when they had found their youngest, only starting to move again when Vlad Master demanded answers from his child. The apparent guardian of the kid that was currently attempting to get a choke hold on Damian before getting flipped over the shoulder, the boy flipped mid air, landing on his feet.
Before Damian could lung at the other boy again Dick grabbed him, his arm wounding around Damians chest as he held onto his youngest brother that sent quite an impressive death glare towards the other kid that just returned the glare, not with the same intensity but clearly peeved had having gotten attacked out of nowhere.
"Daniel! Explain this instant! You promised me, one gala without a ruckus!" Master was clearly not amused, hopefully Bruce had some sort of peace offering ready. Not that the man needed it, Dick thought, remembering some of the reports he had seen the man on.
The boy, Daniel, turned his glare towards his guardian. "It's not my fault this time! HE attacked me first!" Jason snorted, clearly having heard out of that statement alone that Masters apparently also had a feral kid that attacked someone at a gala before.
"This is no excuse. I know you are still grieving but you can not attack my business partner's children. Wasn't it enough that you broke Andrews Mayors nose last week?"
"He deserved it, he hit a girl in a perverted way."
"Justin Gracer?"
"Made fun of my late parents' profession."
"Daniel."
"Fruitloop."
Dick watched how Masters pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly not happy with his charge. By now Damian seemed to have calmed down too from whatever idea he had gotten into his head. He was still glaring at the other kid but at least it appeared he wasn't going to attack anymore when he hissed at Dick to let go of him. He still kept a hand on his shoulder just in case.
"I am so sorry Mr. Master. It wasn't Daniel that started it. Damian, come on apologies." Dick cut in, causing the other two to pay attention and fully face them. That's when he noticed it. Daniel looked a whole lot like Damian. The older siblings shared a glance before Jason left to get the others, Tim and Bruce were still stuck doing damage control but it should only be a matter of time. What was the best way to bring it up to ask subtitle questions without appearing suspicious?
Dick was just about a question before Daniel apparently beat him to it. "Fruitloop, you did not attempt to clone me did you?"
"Little Badger, why would I do that? I already have guardianship over you."
Dick felt like he was missing something here but he also felt Daniam's shoulder tense below his hand. So that was why he had attacked. Damian thought another clone appeared. He really hoped what Masters and his Charge seid were just some ill timed joke. Otherwise the implications would be very worrisome.
"Mom and Dad didn't keep some other family relations secret did they?" Daniel then asked and Masters looked at them contemplatively. "Well Jack was estranged from the rest of his family while Maddie only had her sister Alicia and as far as I am aware you and Jasmine were their only children."
"Mr. Masters if you don't mind, would it be alright to do a DNA testing? You said Daniel's father was estranged from his family? It would be good to find out now if there is a relation." Dick ignored the glare Damian was sending him now, but this was his best excuse to get the others DNA to test if the other boy was really a clone or not. If he was then the League of Assassins must have done some serious brainwashing, and memory manipulation. This would also be the first clone of Damian that actually had a consciousness of his own.
"Doesn't explain why he attacked me…" he heard the other boy mutter as Master stared at them with narrowed eyes for a while before giving the boy by his side a contemplating look.
"Daniel has lost his family and friends in an incident recently. It would be good if we found any family he could connect with or help with his grief." The man then finally said after a moment before handing Dick a business card with a number to connect them before leading his boy away, leaving the gala for all they knew.
A week later and after a lot of discussion in their Family. The Waynes and Masters meet for the DNA testing. Though the moment Masters and his charge met Bruce both froze, Bruce in his Brucie act blinked innocently at them and asked if anything was wrong.
"Fruitloop…"
"Don't be ridiculous Daniel. I never would have attempted what you appear to be implying."
The boy pointed in at Bruce as he faced his guardian. "Look at him and tell me they don't look alike! He is like a more fit version of Dad! Like he hadn't eaten a single one of mom fudges in years! You have to have an explanation for that!"
"And how would I do that?"
"I don't know! You're the fruitloop one that had cloning equipment in the basement! Who did you buy it from? Some old fruitloop? The one you bought it from, did they try to - i don't know - clone a celebrity for themselves! The papers you had with it clearly stated that it had been used successfully once. It was a second hand bought with super old technology when I demanded you destroy the stuff!"
"Daniel, do I look like I knew that? I never looked in these papers you speak of! I just bought it as a backup plan, that I never needed a little badger! Besides the only one I would have ever attempted to clone with that time frame would have been your mother! I didn't even know your father before college! "
"Why would you buy something without looking into the papers and instruction manuals you get with it?!"
"There was no need for! Why did you even look into that when you had me destroy it anyway?!"
The Waynes looked back and forth between Masters and his charge. The more these two continued to argue the more a sinking feeling started to form in everyone present. It was Tim though that voiced everyone's thoughts as he leaned over to Bruce whispering only one question. "Are we sure there never has been an attempt of someone trying to clone you? It sounds like there had been one, years ago…"
#fictober23#danny fenton#dp x dc#danny phantom#dpxdc#crossover#dcxdp#damian wayne#vlad master#bruce wayne#set before the start of the Dan-Timeline#before the timeline when really bad#Danny is a grieving feral gremlin#Vlad is just trying to help Danny#redemption Vlad#Jack was a discarded clone of Bruce#Danny is the son of a clone#the batfam first thought Danny was Damians clone#the batfam didn't know someone tried and apparently somewhat successfully clone Bruce#family relations are weird with clones#is Danny now also Bruce son or a cousin#I have no idea if any of this makes sense
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Andy bends you over his desk.
pairing: andy barber (defending jacob) x assistant fem!reader
summary: 1.9k words. andy reprimands you for wearing an inappropriate skirt at work.
rating: e; smut, barebacking, semi-public sex, some praise kink, boss-employee relationship, spanking
a/n: not the usual here but this idea got the best of me.
You consider your working relationship with Andy to be a friendly one. You talk about the weather, some sports, a restaurant opening in town. It’s light and fun and it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had, being his assistant.
Because of this, you care a lot about him on a deeper level, too, and it probably crosses into unprofessionalism, but it doesn’t hurt anyone since nobody knows you’re harboring a huge crush on him. And it makes sense! He’s so handsome, and so smart without being condescending, something you’re not used to. Your Hinge dates are downright depressing at times because you keep comparing everyone of them to your boss. You think to yourself, why can’t they be more like Andy?
It's only natural to daydream about him taking you out instead of those disappointing guys, and it’s harmless fun. There was the one time he caught you looking at him when you sat by his side in a meeting, your pen poised to take notes, and he winked at you. It made you feel all warm and giggly, your cheeks flushing as you pressed your lips together to smother your mirth.
You start buying new clothes, justifying them as work purchases, knowing you’re picking things you hope Andy will appreciate. The most daring is a short leather skirt with a slit that comes up mid-thigh, and you specifically choose to wear it on a day you know Andy plans to dedicate to being in the office, his paperwork having got away from him. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to grab his attention, and then you’ll open your app at the end of the day to find someone more realistic, more tangible, and then ride the high of confidence into the weekend. It’s a win-win situation.
You rise from your desk as he walks in, greeting him with coffee, and his eyes drop immediately to your legs when he picks up his Styrofoam cup. He blinks twice, his response delayed.
“Good morning.”
He glances at his watch, muttering a curse word before he departs. It’s not what you hoped for, but it’s not nothing, either. You get back to your computer and answer the phone. Andy doesn’t leave for a couple hours and when he reappears, he’s on his cell phone, distracted, barely looking at you.
Maybe he’s not a leg guy? Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re cute?
You try not to feel let down by this, plodding along, until he comes back a bit before noon, your eyes meeting as he passes through.
“Any messages?”
“Yes,” you reply, retrieving your notepad. “I told them you’d call them back. Also, your dentist keeps playing phone tag-”
He lets out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Uh, yeah. Please call Dr. Fisher back and apologize to her. I’m sure she’ll have a lot to say when I finally see her.”
“Plaque not top of your priorities?” you tease, sinking back into your chair, swivelling in it to face your monitor once more.
You catch his eyes following your movements, and you’re suddenly far more aware of your skin. You pick up the phone receiver.
“Just call her back, please,” he says, not matching your tone.
He sounds almost impatient with you, which has never happened before. You nod, going quiet. You do as you’re told, and the receptionist sighs on the other end of the line, rescheduling for you yet again.
“There’s a cancellation fee.”
“Yes, he is aware,” you reply. “And he sends his apologies.”
“Tell him it’s not good enough.”
You won’t do any such thing; he’d fire you for sticking your nose in his business like that. Frankly, it’s not up to anyone to pass judgement on Andy, knowing what he’d been through in the past few years. If his working life took over everything for him to cope with all the rest, that makes a lot of sense to you.
“Uh-huh.���
When you hang up, you sigh, glancing at the calendar. He doesn’t have many spaces for anything other than meetings. You hope he has some time for himself, even if it’s just a couple hours a day. You remind yourself it’s outside of your control, and more importantly, not relevant to you.
The phone rings and you glance at the digital display, seeing it’s Andy. You pick up.
“Yes?”
“I need to speak to you before you go to lunch.”
“Sure,” you reply, and you hang up, stomach suddenly full of knots.
With how he snapped at you earlier, you mind goes straight to the worst possible outcome – dismissal. It seems a little extreme, but he’s never been so… mean to you. But maybe you’re being paranoid, or maybe… maybe you’re being sensitive, and he didn’t snap at all. Still, he wasn’t warm as he usually was when he saw you. You thought he liked having you as his assistant.
You walk over to his door, wiping your sweaty hands on your skirt before opening it and slipping inside. Your head turned to shut it, you hear him say:
“Please lock that.”
You oblige, and then glance over to his desk, seeing him resting on the edge of it, arms crossed. His jaw tenses, his eyes falling to your skirt.
“What did you need, sir?” you ask, placing your hands behind your back.
“We’ve got an issue,” he says.
You swallow. “Oh? What’s happened?”
Sometimes a client is pricklier than others. Or something high profile comes through the firm and you have to be aware of press sniffing around. You don’t expect what comes out of Andy’s mouth next.
“It’s your skirt.”
“Oh, God,” you say, and you flush. “Yeah… it’s a little much. I’m sorry—”
He puts up a hand, but you keep going.
“I can go home and change, now, on my break. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No, that won’t do.”
Your heart sinks. He’s going to fire you over your outfit? That has to be discrimination. You gape.
“Andy…”
He pushes off his desk and you freeze. Andy strides right up to you and takes hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes boring into yours.
“You think you can wear something like that and there not be any consequences? I can practically see up your skirt.”
You can’t speak. Your heart hammers, her whole face and neck burning with shame.
He moves forward, hips on yours and you stumble backwards, his other hand grabbing your hip to steady you. Underneath the fear and humiliation, you know he’s getting you wet by touching you like this, as if he’s entitled to do so.
His thigh fits between your knees and he searches your face, eyes narrowing.
“Well? What have you got to say for yourself? You got my attention. Is that what you wanted?”
“I…” You gape some more, useless. “I-I did want that. I wanted you to look at me. But it’s not appropriate, I’m sorry…”
“No, it’s really not.”
He kisses you, hard, open-mouthed and hungry. You gasp, his tongue pressing into your mouth to tangle with yours. Your hands grip his shirt sleeves and you close your eyes, kissing him back, riding the wave. He still holds your face, but by your jaw, his lips moving down to kiss your neck, his short beard grazing your skin.
“Andy…”
You moan his name and he chuckles, pressing his hard-on against your thigh. He’s huge. You’d bet your life on that. His hands rove your body, squeezing your tits, your hips, your ass… you whimper as he sucks at your skin, grinding against you.
“Come here.”
You obey, tugged along to the desk. He pushes you in front of him, bending you at the waist.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you look over your shoulder at him, watching as he stares at your ass in the leather skirt.
He pushes it up, hand coming down with a sharp slap to your right ass cheek. Of course, you couldn’t just wear any underwear with this skirt – your thong is all that covers you there, and he grabs it, tugging it tight.
“Fuck…”
“Andy,” you say, and he looks at you, chest giving a heave.
“Can’t wander around in that tiny black skirt and then act surprised when I want to fuck you-”
You bite your lip, canting your hips at his words, your ass lifting. He spanks you again, and you hope no-one hears that, the two slaps, or your bitten off moans.
He glances down. “Spread your legs. Fuck… you’re so wet.”
He undoes his belt, then his fly, taking out his cock. He tugs on himself as you anticipate the stretch of him. You nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’re so cute when you’re needy.”
He takes hold of you by the neck, angling you for a filthy kiss, his other hand petting your behind, before slipping down between your cheeks to glide through your wetness. You moan into his mouth, his fingers spreading your arousal around, teasing your clit for a steady minute, and you’re whimpering for him.
“Did you wear this just for me?” he whispers, and you nod. He rocks his cock up against you. “Does that mean this is all mine now?”
He means your cunt. He plays with your clit, dips his fingers into you, riling you up. These are the consequences he was talking about.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s all yours.”
He fills you and you both gasp. He holds your shoulder, letting you fall forward onto his desk, rocking back and forth in shallow thrusts. The stretch makes you tremble, slick with want. Your nails scratch at the heavy wood when he picks up speed, hips hitting your ass, your thong stretched to the side.
You don’t know how much you can take, your feet lifting out of your shoes so you stand on tiptoes as he drives into you. All you can feel is how he stretches you to perfection, your mouth drooling from pleasure.
“Oh, fuck…”
Your thong snaps as his hands take hold of your hips, and he utterly wrecks you, skin slapping together as the world slips away. How are you meant to walk after this? Hang on – how are you meant to look Andy in the eye after this?
“Andy, Andy, Andy…”
You’re so close, you just need that little something, and you tense up, trying to muffle your moans in your arms… then you feel him find your clit again and rub, and you think you might burst into tears.
Your orgasm slams into you and your vision whitens, clenching around him as he fucks you through it.
“Good girl, that’s what I wanted,” he pants. “That’s what I wanted to feel.”
You feel something wet down your thighs and you realize you’ve squirted a little at the same time Andy does, and he huffs, close to the edge.
“Jesus, where have you been hiding?”
“Nowhere, I was at my desk,” you slur, and he laughs, breathless.
“You’re like a dream,” he praises, and then goes still, emptying into you. “So… fucking… cute.”
He sighs, hands coming up to pull you back, your next kisses more tender but still messy, the room reeking of sex now. You think of the carpets, the possible stains.
He keeps kissing you, stroking your cheek with his sweaty hand.
“After we clean up, do you wanna get some lunch together?” he whispers, and you nod, smiling lazily.
“I think we’re way past that, sir.”
His eyes sparkle with an unexpected fondness, before he kisses you again.
Thank you for reading! Let me know if you liked it. ❤️
#andy barber x reader#andy barber x y/n#andy barber x you#fem reader#chris evans fanfiction#andy barber#ficlet
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Mayhem At The Festival
word count: 630 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: Matsukawa x chubby!Reader (feat. Seijoh 4)
genre: fluff
warnings: none
request: I take a menu A with a soda and a matcha roll and sit next to Mattsun || fluffy school festival with crush Mattsun
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The Seijoh four’s laughter could be heard all the way down the corridor of Aoba Johsai High School. Well, not all of them. Between Makki gasping for air and clutching his stomach, Iwaizumi starting to wheeze, hanging off of Oikawa’s shoulder who was holding up his phone requesting a few cute poses, Mattsun did not have a good time.
To be fair, it was foolish of him to think his friends would not tease him for this - or that a picture of him wouldn’t be in the next issue of the school paper. Bemused he tugged at the skirt that barely came down to his mid-thigh and looked around the room of his classmates in more or less obvious and failed attempts to hide their howling laughter. And all of that just to help you out.
When you had come in that morning for the festival, everyone swarmed around you, asking with much concern how your arm ended up in a sling. You had quickly relayed the tale of your way to school and how some guy on a motorbike didn’t think it necessary to follow basic driving rules, having grazed you on your bicycle and sending you tumbling down an embankment.
Luckily it was nothing more serious, but a sprained wrist and elbow would definitely keep you from any possible manual labor today. Your shoulders slumped. You had been looking forward to the festival for weeks, especially when the sewing club revealed the costumes for the maid café. You swore you would wear the adorable uniform whenever you could because how often did a chubby girl with more curves than any roadmap find a maid costume tailored to her exact specifications. In your mind you had seen yourself gliding through the many guests of the little café attraction set up in classroom 3-2 and privately hoped that Issei would forget his duties with the volleyball team and come visit as well. In your imagination he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you and you would wow him with your dazzling smile and maid persona, laying it on extra thick just for him. But all that lovely daydreaming was shattered because someone ignored a red light.
Much to your surprise, however, Issei had broken the morose silence that followed your apology to the event coordinator and blurted out he would take your place.
No one took him seriously at first, of course, but when he didn’t join in the giggles and chuckles around the room, the class president had looked him up and down, squinted (possibly imagining him in the costume) and just nodded with a shrug.
After a good 15 minutes of more laughing and one joke after the other the students started to scatter, getting back to their original tasks. Mattsun sulked in a corner, shifting uncomfortably in the costume but brightened quite a bit when he spotted you coming over to him.
“Thank you so much.”, you said and he took a few seconds to answer, being too distracted by the blush on your cheeks.
“I’d say “no problem” but that would be a lie.”, he replied and you laughed.
“I can make it up to you!”, you said quickly.
“Oh yeah?”
You nodded, thinking he would probably want to be reimbursed for the physical and mental trauma ahead in his day.
“I could… do your homework for a week… or… take over during your cleaning duties once my arm heals or…”
“Go out with me?”
You gasped, then coughed violently at having swallowed too much air. He gave an embarrassed frown and pouted.
“Yes.”, you pressed out between coughs, “Yes, I’d love to.”
“Good.”, he beamed, “Then, my lady-”, he got into maid character, “may I pour you some water to soothe your throat?”
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a/n: I had the best time writing this silliness ^^ thank you so much for the request @makkir0ll - I hope you enjoyed it 🌟🫶🏻
#sunnys school lunches#mattsun x chubby reader#matsukawa issei x chubby reader#matsukawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#chubby reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#mattsun#matsukawa fluff#matsukawa issei x reader#issei matsukawa#hq matsukawa#matsukawa x reader#haikyuu matsukawa#matsukawa issei#haikyuu x curvy reader#hq fluff
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Pervert König part 2; he's just constantly trying to get away with staring and touching y/n, to the point where they try to have a quickie on a mission that almost goes wrong? Just an idea-
How kinky can he get?…
König x reader
Requested
Part 1, Part 2
After your little fiasco, he can’t help but try and get his hands on you any chance he gets… it nearly goes badly.
Reader uses callsign blue because I couldn’t think of anything else… I’m writing this at 2:37am where I am, cut me some slack
König has been relentless since you invited him to your room. Wondering hands and eyes becoming ceaseless when he thinks no one is looking. It doesn’t help that you’ve been left alone together, isolated on the roof of a building.
“How copy Blue?” Price’s voice calls through your comms, forcing you to remove one hand from the sniper rifle to answer. It unsteadies the gun slightly, but you manage.
“All clear up here Captain. Target not yet spotted.” Its a standard response that conveys everything anyone would need to know.
“Good. We’re still scouting on the ground, we’ll let you know if we see anything,” Price replies, talking about him and Gaz. Soap and Ghost were off somewhere else, but knowing the Lieutenant, everything would be fine.
“Mein schatz…” König mumbles. He’s laying on his stomach beside you, not paying attention to the gun he seemed so desperate to hold not even that long ago. “You look so pretty laid out like that…”
“Not now, the target could appear at any moment,” you shift slightly, pulling your snipers hood to adjust it. You can’t risk being seen by anyone who doesn’t already know you’re there, the mission is too high stakes.
König elects to ignore your hushed warning, placing his large palm on the back of your thigh. It rests just above your knee. For a moment, you think he’s going to leave it there, but then it starts to slide up your leg.
His gloves catch on the fabric slightly, causing it to bunch and pull as he moves his hands upwards. It’s driving you mad that you can’t push him away - a moment away from the scope could be the difference between making the shot and botching the mission.
“Just let me feel you mein schatz…? Please?” His voice is pathetic as he whispers out the plea. For a man so big, he sounds so small.
“König I can’t mess this shot up,” you growl. Nothing in you wants to tell him to stop but you have to anyway, so you settle for a compromise - or at least it seems that way to you.
“That wasn’t a no~” suddenly, his voice becomes a purr. His hand shifts, gripping the inside of your thigh and sliding up.
It takes him seconds before his fingers are at your core, two of them massaging your cunt through the fabric of your trousers. Everything in you has to fight to stop you from pushing back against him, grinding yourself into his fingers.
“Keep your eyes on the streets mein schatz,” König says, like he wasn’t practically begging for you to let him distract you just moments ago.
“I’m trying,” you hiss out through clenched teeth. He only chuckles in response, massaging your cunt in just the right way.
Barely any time passes before you can feel warmth growing between your legs. Your body is begging for him, to be touched properly, to grind back into his hand and forget about everything else.
Apparently, you don’t have to worry about it, as König is hoisting your hips up the best he can without shifting your head too much. You don’t get a chance to ask him what he’s doing as he reaches underneath you and undoes both your belt and your trousers.
“König I need-” you try in vain to get him to stop, a verbal slap in the wrist wouldn’t stop this man.
“I will be gentle.” Is all you get in response as he works your trousers down your thighs, letting them rest just below your knees. This gives you the chance to drop your hips again, giving you a steadier view down the scope and into the streets.
This peace doesn’t last long, however, as his hands starts groping and caressing your thigh again. He keeps it mid thigh for a moment, indulging in the softness and the warmth of your skin.
Soon enough, his hand is following the same pattern as before, sliding up your bare leg and towards your core. He takes a momentary detour, gripping the fat of your ass in his palm and giving it a firm squeeze. Part of you knew it would’ve been a rather loud slap had it not been for your current location.
Ultimately, König’s hand comes back to rest over your clothed cunt. His hand feels almost unnaturally warm, calloused fingers gently pressing against your warmth. He’s almost mimicking the same pattern he would pulse his fingers at if he were fucking you.
“It is so hard to keep my hands off of you~” König growls, his middle finger finding your clit through your panties. He rubs it, small, slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“I- I Can tell.” You readjust your rifle, shouldering it slightly differently. It’s a desperate, failed, attempt at distracting yourself from König’s ministrations.
“Shhh, concentrate,” he chuckles lowly, almost to himself. It feels like he’s making fun of you as he does.
You don’t get a chance to respond though, as König presses down on your clit in just the right way. Your body jumps slightly, tensing in pleasure for just a second before you relax again.
As much as you try to fight it down, anger bubbles up inside you. They couldn’t been the difference between making the shit and botching the mission.
“König I—” your body jolts again, this time with the sensation of the crotch of your panties being pulled aside.
König’s now ungloved fingers are pressing against your slick cunt. He slides them back and forth through your slick, gathering it up on his first and middle finger. You know exactly what he’s going to do and you don’t have the heart - or the chance - to stop him.
His fingers are slipping inside you before you can say anything. They slide in to the knuckle, completely buried inside you. Everything about him is so massive that even just a couple of his fingers provide you with an amazing stretch.
König only gives you a few seconds before she starts to curl his fingers into your sponges sweet spot. They’re slow, deliberate, *teasing* curls that are already causing heat to flood to your core.
It’s such a delicious feeling that you eyes start to unfocus . Pleasure starts to trickle through your body, staring at your stuffed cunt and spreading outwards. It’s a sensation that causes the rope in your belly to tighten a lot faster than you thought it would.
“König I’m… Fuck…” is the only words you can mumble out while still looking down your sniper’s scope.
“Don’t worry, cum for me~” König purrs, fingers continuing to work the same, perfect rhythm.
“Target in sight. Take the shot Blue.” Price’s voice suddenly crackles through your headphones just as you feel yourself reaching your peak.
“Yes… sir…” it takes everything in you not to stutter. König’s continued movements don’t help, but but some miracle, you take the shot and eliminate the target.
What you don’t realise is that König has not only stopped but also pulled his fingers out. The stress of the situation holds you from noticing until he’s pulling your trousers back up and you realise that you never came while he was finger fucking you.
“What? That’s not fair!” You whisper shout, already staring to move towards the exit.
“I was distracting you mein schatz, you said you needed to be concentrating.”
“…fuck.”
#fanfic#fanfiction#x reader#nsft fanfic#cod mw2#cod mw22#konig x y/n#perv König#könig x reader#part 2 baby#part 2 is here!
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Blue Butterflies
The Media The Maze Runner AU
Character Newt
Couple Newt X Reader
Rating SMUT AF
I sat on the sofa playing video games online with the guys, my jeans a little tight but I didn't wanna be a dick and take them off, my orange Schrodinger shirt and my white button down over it, controller in hand, headset over my ears listening to the sounds of the game, and everyone yelling,
"You have to crouch thomas. Crouch. it's one button you idiot." Gally yelled,
"I keep telling you that button is sticky on this controller!" Tommy answered,
"Then use Teresa's controller so we can finish the damn map!" Ben yelled,
"I'm not using hers, it's pink," He answered,
"Who cares if it's pink! the button works just swap controllers," Minho complained,
"Her's is worse her buttons are all stiff because she only uses it to play animal crossing."
"I swear to god Thomas I will come over there and shove an AK up your ass if you don't pick a controller and finish this damn map already I got wings smoking man!" Fry yelled,
I laughed a little at the chaos as we continued with the map, for a little longer, until something caught my eye.
Y/n came out of her room, not sure what she had been up to. But I was distracted by her as she walked to the kitchen, barefoot, bare legs, in a white long-sleeve crop top with some cute cats all over it, and a blue and yellow plaid suspender skirt, her hair up in a ponytail as she went to make herself some tea.
My roommate, and... I admit I had a bit of a crush on her.
I mean my crush isn't helped when she walks around out flat dressed like that...
"Hey, newt?" I heard Minho ask which brought me back into the game or well half into the game and half on her little skirt as it barely reached her mid-thigh,
"Yeah? Yeah sorry I'm here." I answered,
"Let me guess Y/n just walked in the room?" Ben laughed,
I was sheepish turning my volume down in case she heard through my headphones, "Yeah..."
"We know." Gally sighed,
"We all know," Fry sighed,
"Yeah We can hear you biting your lip through the mic." Minho laughed, "How does she look?"
I couldn't help looking as she turned to lean on the counter with her tea giving me a faint smile,
"Umm..." I couldn't help but whine,
"I swear to god newt if you're jerking off right now I will get in my car, come over there and punch to in the dick," Gally warned,
"Ohh slim it!" I complained getting on with the game, I did try and force her from my mind but that wasn't easy,
I Caught a glimpse as she bent over to look in the pantry for a snack, and I saw them.
Little white cotton panties with little printed blue butterflies, and blue lace around the edges.
My jaw dropped to my feet, my eyebrows high, my eyes wide. My heart pounding, my blood was racing, and my breath was sharp and jagged.
I died in my game but- I didn't care! I never wanted to look away!
Everyone was yelling at me but I couldn't even hear them.
As she picked a snack and stood up I quickly shook myself out of it and headed everyone yelling.
"Sorry sorry guys I uhhh.... I think my Wi-Fi lagged out." I told them, "I think I'm gonna get some dinner now maybe I'll come back on in a bit."
"Yeah yeah, we believe you" Minho laughed,
So I shut the game down and took my headphones off trying to keep my head straight.
"Hi newt," Y/n smiled leaning on the counter top eating some popcorn.
"Hi Y/n."
"You okay?"
"Yep. yep. Fine."
"You sure?" She asked,
"Yeah."
"Alright," she shrugged coming to sit beside me on the sofa, "You're not going for dinner yet."
"No, I just uhh just got sick of playing."
"Fair enough, So what you gonna do with your afternoon?"
"Y/n can I say something!"
"Uhhh... sure Newt what's up?"
"Please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not promising that and you know it,"
"Please don't be... too mad at me."
"What is it."
"I saw your panties!"
"oh." She said,
I mentally prepared to be murdered but
"Alright," She said returning to snacking on her popcorn and watching the tv,
"Uhh... I don't know if you heard me, I saw your panties."
"Yep Heard you." She nodded,
"... Why aren't you killing me? Aren't you mad at me?"
"Not really no." She said, "Do you want me to be mad at you newt?"
"... Kinda."
"Why?"
"Becuase I was being a perv, I was being weird, and gross, and awful, and I saw your panties!"
"Yeah? newt you're my roommate. We live together. We share a bathroom. I couldn't care less if you see my panties."
"You... you... Really?"
"Yeah, I go out like this why would I care if you see me like this."
"You- You go out dressed like this!"
"Well, I add shoes."
"You go out like this! And people don't... stare at you?"
"People stare at me no matter what I do, might as well do what I wanna do."
"But What if it makes people.. you know."
"That's their problem."
"You really don't care?"
"Not really no."
"Oh." I nodded, "I see..."
"You want me to care?"
"No no, I guess I'm happy you don't care, it's just... kinda strange. So... You ready don't care I saw your panties?"
"Nope."
"Then... Could I see them again?"
She glared a moment but I stayed still "Alright" She shrugged
"Really!"
"Yeah?"
"You're fine with this?"
"Yes newt."
"Okay!" I smiled not wanting to argue with her
she smiled lifting her skirt to show her little cotton panties with blue lace on the hems and the cotton printed with little blue butterflies
"oooohhh my god..." I gasped, unable to even blink
"Happy newtie?" she asked setting her skirt back and kissing my cheek,
"MHM!" I nodded almost whining,
"Good," She smiled eating her popcorn again,
"Can uhhhhh... can we make out?"
"Why?" She asked
"Why else because I'm literally going insane right now! Please y/n!"
She rolled her eyes set her popcorn down and opened her arms, I didn't waste time I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, she kissed me back out kisses quickly turning into an intense make-out, we kissed for what felt like hours and hours but I didn't care all I wanted was her lips, and those cute little panties. After a while I couldn't resist, my hands slipping down to stroke up her thighs and under her skirt I stopped before I fully slipped under her skirt and she nodded in our kisses, so I smirked and held her hips making her stand between my legs kissing her stomach as my hands slipped up to stroke the soft cotton of her panties,
"Newt, you really are excited about my butterflies aren't you?"
"I adore your butterflies Love," I told her between kisses as I stroked the soft lace on her panties before I gripped them and tugged them down her legs kissing her thighs once I tugged them down my kiss getting higher as I tugged her panties lower, my head pushing up her skirt until I was just a single kiss from her-
"Newt!" She said grabbing my hair to push me back
"Ohh uhh sorry... guess I uhh I got a little-"
"It's alright," She smiled moving back and hiding herself under her cute little skirt, and I had to admit it only made me worse knowing she had nothing under it, She took her panties off her legs and balled them up before setting them in my hand, "My room. Five minutes." She smirked kissing my head before she walked to her room intentionally shaking her hips as she went,
"COMING!" I yelled shutting her panties in my pocket and bolting across the apartment after her.
#tbs imagine#tbs imagines#thomas sangster imagine#thomasbrodiesangster#thomas brodie sangster imagine#thomas sangster#thomas brodie sangster#tbs#tbs smut#thomas brodie sangster smut#newt#tmr newt smut#tmr newt imagine#newt imagines#newt imagine#tmr newt imagines#tmr newt au#newt au#the maze runner#mazerunner#the maze runner newt
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Flashback dream (or anything about the INtSA universe 🥺) for the tag game
🥺🥺🥺 of course!!
Okay, so. This one is titled "mini-fic", but I titled that when I still thought it'd be, like, a one-shot under 5k. Right now it's sitting at 25k and 3 chapters instead, so as you can see it kind of got away from me.
In summary, Enjolras wakes up in his high school bedroom, somehow transported back a decade. He doesn't understand why or how this is happening, and has to work out how to wake himself up from this weird, hyper-realistic dream he's stuck in, all the while living through the last few days before Grantaire left the ABC.
An excerpt is below!
Unfortunately, when he gets to the hall outside Ms. Houcheloup’s classroom, the only person there is Combeferre. Enjolras remembers a moment too late that his own bus is one of the earliest to get to school. Since Grantaire drives, he supposes he’d been hoping he’d get here early, if he’d found himself in the same situation as Enjolras had this morning.
He must not do a good job of hiding how he deflates to only find Combeferre, because Combeferre, who’d looked up to wave at him, stops mid gesture and frowns.
“Good morning,” he says, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger, “Am I not who you wanted to see?”
Enjolras feels his stomach sink just a little more at the fact that Combeferre is acting how he should. That’s one person not currently not experiencing reality the way he is. Fantastic.
“I—Sorry,” Enjolras apologizes, moving to lean against the same wall as Combeferre, hands absently playing with the strap of his bag, “I need to talk to Grantaire. I was hoping he’d be here.”
“...Why?” Combeferre asks, dubious, but clearly trying to hide the extent of his confusion.
“Why what?” Enjolras asks.
“Why do you want to talk to Grantaire, and why did you think he would be here?” Combeferre clarifies, raising his eyebrows.
He doesn’t really have a good answer to either of those questions. Not if Combeferre doesn’t remember the last decade. Enjolras mentally kicks himself, and looks down the hall as a distraction, as if Grantaire will just materialize there if he wills it.
“Did he do something?” Combeferre asks, suddenly sounding concerned and a little resigned, like a parent who knows he’s going to have to pull over to stop his kids from fighting.
“No,” Enjolras replies, perhaps a little too quickly, half defensive, for Grantaire’s sake, and half panicked. He swallows, reminding himself to act as normally as possible, “He didn’t do anything. I just need to ask him something.”
Combeferre’s eyebrows just go higher at that.
“Well…I doubt he’ll even get here before the bell,” he says, slowly, “He’s been late all week. You might just have to wait until the meeting this afternoon.”
Enjolras sighs, and lets his head thunk back against the wall behind him, frustrated.
If Combeferre finds it strange, he doesn’t press him, and Enjolras appreciates it, taking a moment to just think, and then gather himself.
If this dream were normal, this is where he’d probably zoom ahead to the action, but apparently he’s not that lucky. He feels every minute of the morning wait, chatting idly with Combeferre and figuring out his class schedule as subtly as he can as their other friends slowly filter in, and the hall gets more crowded before the first bell.
It’s weird seeing all the people outside of the ABC that he didn’t keep in contact with after high school. He recognizes the faces, but doesn’t remember the names, aside from a few exceptions. There’s just, ‘that boy I had to do a group project with’, ‘that nice girl that gave me candy for Valentines day, once’, ‘the homophobe’, faces with memories but no names.
When he’s not quietly people-watching, or chatting with friends as they roll up, tired but talkative, he’s checking his phone’s clock and looking down the hallway in the direction he knows Grantaire will come, if his memory is to be trusted.
“What’s up with him?” he hears Courfeyrac murmur to Combeferre after Enjolras looks up, then sighs, seeing it’s only Marius turning the corner and heading towards them.
“He’s waiting for Grantaire,” Combeferre says, keeping his voice low.
“...Why? What'd he do this time?” Courfeyrac asks, and Enjolras turns to them, his face pinched in frustration.
“I’m right here, Courf, you could just ask me,” he says, trying not to snap. Courf just smiles, holding up his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, sorry, you just seemed out of it,” he replies, “Weird morning?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Enjolras mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, then pinching the bridge of his nose. Combeferre and Courfeyrac just glance at each other, eyebrows raised, but apparently decide to drop it a moment later, when Courf perks up again, looking down the hallway.
“Hey, R!” he calls, waving, and glancing at Enjolras, whose head immediately shoots up again, intent on the end of the hall.
The hallway is bustling now; they’re only maybe a minute away from the bell ringing, so it’s packed with students getting where they’re going, and chatting with friends, or pulling things from some lockers on the other side of the hall.
It takes Enjolras a few seconds to find Grantaire in the sea of people, not just because it’s packed, but because he’d looked out expecting to find R as he knows him, not R as he used to be.
When his eyes finally find him, he has to do a double take. It’s not that he doesn’t remember how Grantaire used to look. It’s just startling to see so clearly how much of a change there’s been over the last decade.
The Grantaire he knows still dresses down most of the time, but his clothes fit him decently enough, and he holds himself with a reserved kind of confidence.
It’s jarring to see him like this again: tired, and slouchy, in clothes that don’t fit right. There’s a hunched-in quality to the way he stands, accentuated by the fact that his worn green jacket is at least two sizes too big. Grantaire’s unkempt hair springs out from the edge of a grey beanie, and heavy bags stick purple under his eyes.
He looks exhausted. A bone-deep kind of tired from days or weeks of insomnia, as Enjolras now knows.
Grantaire looks up when Courfeyrac calls out, sticking on a lazy smile and waving back.
He starts to walk to where Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta are huddled, sitting in a pile against the wall, either not noticing or ignoring on purpose the way Enjolras is staring.
#longer excerpt this time because context is hard LMAO#asks#tag game#exr#fanfiction#les mis#this one is like 10% away from being done it's just that that last 10% is also the hardest#because I left the hard stuff for last as one does#thank u pumpkin for beta-ing it though you're lovely 🥺🥺🥺#INtSA
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A Cosmos in the Sand
Raven stared hard at her kidnappers.
The one who forcefully dragged her from her room – she knew his name was Damyan from previous visions – was busy preparing the camel.
His companion, who had met them outside of the city walls, stared at her with his mouth agape. “I can’t believe you really did it,” the shocked male said.
“I told you I would,” was Damyan’s mumbled reply.
“But I thought you were going to kill her,” the black-haired, blue-eyed man said.
Raven frowned.
“New plan,” Damyan said. “Slaede is too well guarded. We need to draw him out.”
“So, you stole his sorceress?”
“Yes,” Damyan answered. He turned his turquoise eyes to Raven. “Get on the camel,” he ordered.
Raven glared at him, refusing to move even an inch.
“Maybe she doesn’t understand you.”
“Quiet, Jhon,” Damyan said with an eye roll. “Either you get on the camel, or I put you on the camel.”
“Why should I make it easy for you?” Raven asked, ignoring his beautiful stare. “Aren’t you going to kill me eventually?”
“Yes,” Damyan answered with a tight grin. “Now, you can either ride Aelfred or be dragged behind Aelfred.”
Raven huffed and eyed the iolite jewel – the one weakness of sorceresses like herself – around his neck. Hadn’t Slaede confiscated all iolite in the area?
“Well?” Damyan growled impatiently.
“Fine,” Raven mumbled, clenching her fists.
“Why does she get to ride Aelfred?” Jhon complained as Raven climbed onto the camel’s back. “I don’t want to walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jhon,” Damyan answered as he swung his leg over the camel, sitting directly behind Raven.
Raven felt heat come to her cheeks as his muscular chest pressed against her back.
“Comfortable?” a hot voice whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Does it matter?” Raven shot back.
“No.”
Raven fought another shiver that ran down her spine. She was mature enough to admit to herself that Damyan was pleasant to look upon. Dark tan skin, green eyes with flecks of gold, strong rough hands, muscular chest - “Woah!” Raven gasped as the camel stood suddenly.
“Careful, sorceress.” Raven heard mocking in Damyan’s voice. He tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her flush against him.
“We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we?” he whispered again.
This time, Raven did shudder.
Damyan tried not to get distracted by the beautiful woman sitting directly in front of him, but he couldn’t help it. She smelled so good. He was so used to the disgusting odor of men; he had forgotten that fancy people could afford things like perfumes and myrrh. But he wouldn’t get distracted by her smell or hair or eyes or body. Her body, he thought. Thank the gods she was no longer wet. The piece of cloth covering her did little to hide what he’d already seen!
Damyan shook his head. He needed to control his lust. He had a job to do. And thinking about kissing the soft lips of the sorceress was not the job. They were in the middle of a war, dammit! He turned to look at Jhon, who was giving him a knowing smile. “Shut up,” Damyan whispered.
“I didn’t say anything,” the sorceress answered, her voice laced with annoyance.
“I wasn’t speaking to you!” Damyan snapped. He felt her body stiffen in front of him.
“Well,” Jhon spoke smugly, “I didn’t say anything, either. You must be hearing things. Again,” he smiled up at the sorceress. “Too many hits to the head.” Raven chuckled, and Damyan felt the vibrations everywhere.
Dear gods, he thought with an eye roll, this is going to be a long journey.
Slaede drummed his fingers on his throne, quietly seething as he listened to the guard’s report.
“It seems that she is no longer in the city,” the guard finished. “Your Highness?” the guard’s voice shook.
Slaede nodded for him to continue.
“Do you…do you think she went willingly?”
Slaede stilled, his fingers frozen in mid-air as his mind rushed back to that night in the tent - the night an attempt had been made on his life. Had Raven seen this coming? Is that why she was so adamant about keeping his would-be-assassin alive?
Slaede’s jaw tightened. He should have killed that Shadow assassin that night. But no, he just had to get sentimental and show Raven favor. After all, Raven was his favorite and most competent sorceress. Slaede had only lost one battle because of her foolishness. A lesson from his son after that single failure had been enough to ensure she had never made such a mistake again.
But what if she had gone willingly?
Slaede frowned. Maybe he should have rewarded her more. In truth, allowing Raven to live in luxury while her people suffered in the dungeons below may not have been prudent. Still…just in case.
Slaede rose from his throne. “Bring Captain Rickus to me,” Slaede ordered.
The guard bowed low before scurrying away.
Slaede walked to the nearest window and looked out at his empire. All who served him lived in luxury. They didn’t starve; he never left them wanting; his people were lucky. Maybe it was time he reminded Raven of that fact.
“Bring her sister, Maya, to me,” he commanded a nearby guard. Raven’s family still had their uses.
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14229422/1/A-Cosmos-In-The-Sand-The-Scorpion-King
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Live to Serve (You) | Part 6
What followed was by far the most conflicting year of Steve Harrington’s life. On the one hand, he knew exactly what the touch of a woman felt like, it was nice, almost addictive, mind-numbingly good enough to just sink into and let his worries wash away for an evening, but on the other, Eddie seemed to hate him out of nowhere.
Probably for the best that he had all those pretty distractions to keep him busy because otherwise he might have just fallen into a spiralling depression because Eddie wouldn’t talk to him.
He’d be cordial and polite, he’d be respectful with titles, he’d never disrespect the crown, but gone were the lazy days in the library where Eddie would read to him in silly voices, gone were the adventures out in the fields chasing each other on horse back until the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, gone were the mornings where he’d wake to Eddie’s fingers in his hair, dull fingernails dragging a light pressure across his scalp, his deep velvety voice cooing his name to gently rouse him from slumber.
It felt like he’d lost a limb and every day dragged a little more than the one before it, sometimes, when he didn’t have company, he’d sit in bed until the earliest of hours just before the sun began its ascent, unable to sleep, pondering the whys with a deeply seated misery building in his chest because he knew Eddie had pulled away from him, had pulled so far out of reach that he couldn’t pin him down long enough to get an answer out of him as to why.
He was like smoke, slipping through his fingers and his mother only ever gave him a look of deep sympathy and sorrow whenever he asked for her help. An expression followed by a gentle “there’s nothing I can do, Steven… only you can mend this.”
“But how?” He’d ask, desperate for answers and she’d say the most frustrating thing possible in that moment,
“You must talk to him.” As if it were that easy. As if he hadn’t been trying to do that since that first day, since the morning after his eighteenth birthday when everything had changed out of nowhere.
So he tried other options. The maids, he’d fooled around with a few of them, always fun and eager to please, but none were more useful to him than Robin Buckley. One of the maids usually found taking care of the library, keeping it clean, keeping the books organized and in good condition, she knew Eddie! She didn’t respond to his attempts at flirting though, staring at him with an unimpressed expression that had him quickly floundering for another tactic.
She did take pity on him though, a hand held up to stop his fumbled attempt at saving face mid-way through his attempt “can I help you with something, your highness?” She asked, simple, straight to the point and the start to a brand-new friendship that made his Eddie problems just a little easier to bear. He had someone on his side, someone who could get to Eddie, someone who could try and plant the idea of forgiveness into his brain for a crime Steve didn’t know he’d committed.
She wouldn’t tell him why though. “I’m sorry, Steve” she’d shrug her shoulders “some things have to come from the person themselves, it’d never be right of me to tell you what’s going on with him no matter whether it’d help fix things quicker or not. It’s got to come from him.”
“That’s just… fine.” Awful. That was awful, and unfair, and cruel, and… honestly Steve loved her a little bit for it. She was on his side, but it seemed like she was still protecting Eddie.
“I might be able to get you alone together though.” And there was his chance.
It was one of the many guest rooms. It’d taken far too long for Robin to take pity on him to make this happen, far too long with her having servant solidarity to help him just enough to get him this one on one, but there Eddie was.
Nineteen years of age to his own eighteen, yelling at the door because Robin had locked it behind him leaving them all on their own in a room nobody used. At least the maids kept it maintained, the beds were always dressed in fresh linens and the fireplace was always stocked with dried logs for burning just in case a traveller came calling in need. The palace was large, with far too many rooms for a one child royal family.
There was always room for people in need. Always.
“Oh, I’m going to kill her, I’m going to kill her, bury her body in an unmarked grave in the woods, then dance on it.” Excessive, Steve thought, trying to keep the fond smile that threatened to grace his lips at bay. Gods he missed Eddie. He missed him so much.
He couldn’t get lost in fondness though, he had a mission to execute. “Uh-huh, and why are you so against being locked in a room with me? What have I done exactly?” He wished Eddie would just tell him, wished it hadn’t come to being locked in a room with the guy, but… drastic measures.
“I’d be against being locked in a room with anyone against my will” Eddie bit back “you’re not special, your highness.” Steve wished he could say he didn’t wince, but he did. Eddie had a sharp tongue, and he wasn’t afraid to use it, even against him.
“That’s another thing, this your highness crap, where the hell has that come from?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, a feeble attempt to make himself feel stronger in the face of an angry Eddie “and the morning thing, which by the way, what the hell? You don’t even help me with my clothes anymore! Just breakfast’s ready and you’re gone! You know I hate breakfast first thing! And my mother hates my fashion sense!” Feeble, totally feeble things to throw at the other man but— he missed the smallest of things.
Everything Eddie had perfected over the years had been ripped away from him in one go, he missed things he hadn’t even known he could miss.
“You’re eighteen years old, Steven” another wince, eyes dipping to the floor, Steven, it’d been Steve since the day they met, how had things changed so much? “You should be able to dress yourself and manage your own breakfast schedule by now.”
“Steven? What the—okay. Okay, clearly I’ve done something wrong, so if you could just tell me, because I’ve wracked my brain and cannot for the life of me figure out what I could have done, I can fix it and get my stupid friend back.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Oh my God, Eddie. Please. Please just tell me what I’ve done, I want my best friend back, and I don’t know how to get you back so can you please just tell me?”
“This isn’t something you can fix, Steve.” At least it was Steve again, small miracles. “It’s… it’s just got to be this way, alright?” Nope.
“No, not alright, this isn’t alright, I did something, I know I did something, or I’m doing something cause you’d have forgiven me by now if I’d only done it once so… just tell me and I’ll stop.” Eddie just looked at him, his brows furrowed with… something, not anger, not irritation… something else, something that hurt Steve’s heart just to think about. Something that hurt him to think he’d caused it, but he couldn’t quit now. “You’re not getting out of this room until you tell me so you might as well just tell me.”
“You’re such a brat, Steve.”
“I’m royalty, it comes with the territory. This all started after my birthday, after that stupid hunt, did someone say something? Did I drink too much and say something to you?” No, no he didn’t, he knew he didn’t, he’d been sober all night and Eddie had been entertaining guests with the lute, god he’d been so pretty that night, he missed him, god he missed him— there had to be something. “Cause I dunno what I said but—”
“You didn’t say anything, Steve. You haven’t done anything wrong” Steve frowned in confusion and doubt “don’t—don’t look at me like that, you haven’t. This… what I’m doing? I’m doing it for me. I’m doing it to protect myself.” Protect himself? What in the world would he have to protect himself from? “And yes, it might suck for you that you now have to dress yourself but… it’s best if you just allow me to keep my distance.” Ugh, he didn’t get it, it wasn’t about the shallow small things, it was everything else!
“This isn’t about dressing myself, Eddie, Lord almighty, I’m—I want my friend back, I want to go riding with you” he missed the spectacular view of Eddie’s hair loose and beautiful, flowing in the wind as they rode through the fields, chasing each other on horseback, missed the way the sunlight caught the happiness that made his eyes glow in the summer sun “and listen to you read” he missed the voices, missed the way he’d turn boring words on a page into a theatrical masterpiece where if Steve just closed his eyes he could picture the people the voices belonged to in his minds eye. “I want to take you on hunts with me cause it’s shit out there without you” a privilege he’d not yet gotten, Eddie never having joined him on a hunt but… the idea of getting to share a tent, watching Eddie make shadow animals on the fabric walls using the lantern as his only source of light, coming up with stories to match how they moved in the light, he wanted it, he wanted it so badly. “I want to be able to tell you about life things, I want to watch you lace up my tunic cause I can’t do it myself” and getting to see Eddie’s eyes through thick lashes so close, god… it made his chest tight and his mouth dry and— “it’s always too tight, or too loose…” he licked his lips to dampen the drying skin “I just want you back and I don’t know how to do that so please, tell me how.”
“I can’t…”
“Why?” He felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but he couldn’t stop now, not when he was so close.
“Because it’s not fair! I can’t— I can’t justify it in any way that you’ll understand, in any way that’ll make what I’m doing sound fair to you because it’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything wrong, it’s me, it’s all me, I’m only human and it hurts so I’m protecting myself, please just let me protect myself, just… just call me selfish, or irrational, be mad at me for pushing you away for a bad reason, just… just let me go.”
“Not until I know what the reason is.”
“Ngghh, why? Why do you have to know?”
“Because you JUST said it’s hurting you…” he stepped closer, he knew this was like cornering a wild animal, but he needed to be closer, he’d spent years being held at arms-length and Eddie was right there, his resolve clearly crumbling bit by bit, just a little more, a little more. He’d been complacent for too long, he refused to let Eddie go again “I don’t want to hurt you, Eddie… I don’t want to be the one causing you pain, I don’t know what it is, but… if you tell me, I can fix it… I can make it better again, I can have my best friend back…”
“You can’t fix It, I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say it to get it through your skull, but you can’t.”
“I can try!”
“I wouldn’t ask you to! That wouldn’t be fair!”
“You’re being difficult.”
“You locked me in a room against my will and interrogated me, difficult is the LEAST I can do!”
“Ugh, will you just tell me, please?!”
“No!”
“Why?!”
“Because—Because—!” Something in his friend seemed to snap. He was close, so close, close enough to see the frayed edges of his last vestiges of patience and then it was gone, patience expired, however he didn’t choose violence, there was nothing violent in Eddie’s movements, even the grip of his hands on Steve’s jaw were surprisingly gentle even for the abrupt way he grabbed him.
And then lips. Soft, oh so impossibly soft lips, closed the short distance between them, it took Steve all of a second to catch up. Even if he hadn’t quite figured out what was going on, instinct alone told him to press that boy up against something firm and take his breath away, it was what he wanted, what Eddie apparently wanted and Steve would have given him anything within his power to do so, and as a prince that was unsurprisingly a vast amount of things, so if all he asked for was this, if the only request he had was to be consumed by a mutual want, then Steve would gladly give in.
It was messy, uncoordinated, but Steve made quick work of showing him everything he’d learned, taught through show, how to move his lips, how to lose himself in the hot slide of tongue across tongue. He took Eddie’s jaw within his hands just to gently coax him into the correct angle never once breaking the kiss to do it, only when Eddie’s hands left his own jaw to melt around his neck well, only then did he part from him, a white-hot lance of fire surging through his gut as Eddie tried in vain to chase, his cheeks flushed a warm beautiful pink, lips bruised and shining slick with spit, his pupils blown in a darkened want but eyes wide as though lust and panic fought in his mind for what he ought to be feeling.
“Wh-what...?” Steve breathed, lips still brushing those bruised, spit slicked, plump lips as he spoke “you...” he really didn’t need to ask questions, Eddie clearly wasn’t about to answer them if the building panic seemed to be overtaking the want, Steve didn’t ask any further questions, instead merely groaned out a soft “God, why didn’t you do this years ago?” Before reclaiming the lips he’d dreamed of for years.
Maybe he was being greedy, maybe he was rushing things by allowing his hands to dive for clothes, to fumble with the hem of Eddie’s shirt untucking it from his trousers just to feel the skin of his slender waist within his hands and pulling him closer, hips flushed to hips, maybe he was rushing what they’d have all the time in the world to explore but Steve had years upon years of desire, often repressed, often pushed down, bottled up, and hidden away but Eddie was there, his arms around Steve’s neck, fingers splayed into his hair, breaking the kiss to groan sweet music into the air around them, his head pressed back against the door with nowhere else to go.
Could anyone blame him for rushing?
Steve wasn’t deterred by the broken kiss, there was still so much skin to taste, a perfectly pristine, smooth column of pale skin beneath the cut of Eddie’s jaw just begging to be beautifully mottled with dark, colourful bruises born of desire and it was during the creation of one such beautiful bloom of colour that Eddie managed to gasp “S-Steve...” as his hands feebly gripped broad shoulders, Steve hadn’t even realised they’d left his hair. “Steve… I’ve never—w-we shou—” lord above, never. Never, not even once, his best friend, the boy he’d loved since before he knew what love looked like, had never even attempted to allow himself to be touched.
His mouth watered.
“Shhh” Steve shushed against Eddie’s neck, thumbs gently massaging circles into the dips of Eddie’s hips, “I’ve got you, you’ve looked after me for so long, Eddie... let me—let me take care of you for once.” So many things he wanted to try, so many things he’d had done to him.
So many pleasures Eddie deserved to receive.
He’d never just sat there and taken any of it, enjoyed, yes, greatly enjoyed but he’d learned too, he’d taken their attentions as lessons to be learned and while he’d never been an exceptionally gifted study, that was a subject he excelled at. He knew what he liked, knew how painted lips and talented tongues had reduced him to mush with nought but a saliva slick slide and just enough suction in a bid to impress him.
Not that he needed extra effort to impress. He’d lasted almost all of twenty goddamn seconds the first time, but as he dropped to his knees, not a position a prince should ever really find himself, but a position that still felt so right to be in in that particular moment, so he really didn’t care how long Eddie lasted.
They had all the time in the world, and lots to make up for.
Part: End
#PirateWrites#Live to serve (You)#ficlet#Medieval AU#yay Steve's POV#okay so#i know i said this'd be the end#but... this got longer than expected#so NEXT one will be the end lmao
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OC In Fifteen Tag!
Thanks for the Tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!
I'll go with some lines from Kyran Mavven (Of Starlight and Beasts), Raiden (Jade Ruins), and Sam Delaways (Enchanted Illusions)!
Kyran Mavven
"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me." *death glares at Masen from across the tavern with the wrath of a thousand suns.* [Masen sees him, and strides up to him for the whole tavern to see, speaking with an angry smirk "Hello, brother."]
"If I get to blow something up then... yes. The answer is yes. And it will always be yes."
[To Bastien] "... You're not as wretched as I'd expected, for an Eclipsed soldier, that is. You're... pretty okay." [Cue awkward pat on the shoulder before walking off]
"I haven't worked on a team for a while now. I wasn't expecting my next experience with this to be with this little bunch of dimwits, but I'll take what I can get."
"They're trying to kill us, aren't they." [Corah chuckles awkwardly drily, clearly lying "No, not at all! What made you come up with that?"] "First, most people we meet since you came around are actively trying to kill us. Secondly, and most evident - they've literally just stabbed you!
+ Bonus: "If you touch my glasses or my goggles again I will bite you."
Raiden
6. "Because I know how to put up a show - why do you think my fights in the arena have such a crowded audience? - while you almost stumbled yourself to death twice since we first met. By yourself. That's why I'm in charge of the distraction, and you're in charge of all the rest."
7. "Hold on just a minute! I'm far too glorious to trudge through that muck, oh, no way in the Hells! We're figuring out another way around this or I swear to the Spirits that will leave you behind -" [Gets thrown in the bog regardless, mid-tantrum]
8. "So we're working with the Daggerfangs now? Literal assassins and thugs?" Raiden looks between Solei and Nevan with a bitter laugh "Oh, okay! Here go my hopes at living past 25 then. But carry on, enlighten me with your plans."
9. "Just because I like to annoy you doesn't mean you're not my friend, Solei. Now, can you not be such a killjoy and just let me help you, or is that too difficult for your 'high royalness'?"
10. "Oh, it's not me you've gotta worried about. I'm all tied up!" He smiles, holding up his tied wrists with a near-hysteric laugh and a dangerous tone "You pissed off Jinn - you're more fucked than I could ever make you be. And I suggest you run off now, 'cause she's coming up behind you at a really remarkable speed."
Sam Delaways
11. "That's a good idea alright. If you two intend on being dead in a week that is!"
12. "...Yeah, this city ain't for the faint of heart - you gotta fight through it, or else it will consume you, and that never has a good ending."
13. "You don't say? Here I was thinking the whole 'drenched in blood and viscera, glowing pitch black eyes' was just a style choice of his - of course, I knew he was a necromancer! I just didn't know he was that necromancer, that bit is new."
14. "The constabulary here are more corrupt than the crooks. If you walk up to them with that bunch of evidence against the Mayor, I guarantee ya that you two will be the ones walking out of that station with cuffs and a noose waiting for you in the docks. We need 'ta make an actual plan to go about this."
15. "I want chocolate cake." [Harriet and Augustus turn to him, baffled, given that this is the wreckage of one of their most recent escapades gone wrong. Augustus speaks up "You do know that we almost died just now -"] "That's precisely why I want that cake. Now, shut up, and lemme just enjoy this ride for a while, fancypants, I got a headache."
Tagging (gently, no pressure): @lassiesandiego, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @rickie-the-storyteller, @crowandmoonwriting, @sam-gladee, @writernopall, @oh-no-another-ideaa, @hrmkingizzy, @jasperygrace, @tabswrites, @littleladymab, @starlit-hopes-and-dreamss, @tabswrites @i-can-even-burn-salad, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and @blind-the-winds
#wip of starlight and beasts#wip jade ruins#wip enchanted illusions#oc in fifteen#writing#writeblr#writers#writerblr#writers on tumblr#my writing#character writing#my characters#my wips
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(Answering @badwolfwho1's questions for this character ask game; four of four.)
Willow
5 What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them
youtube
(Honestly, this was a surprisingly hard question to answer and I don't really know if I think this song fits Willow at all or I just subconciously gave up and picked a song I liked. It's a good song though?)
12 What's a headcanon you have for this character?
Not exactly a fully developed headcanon (so much as it is a stubborn refusal to accept a fictional character I like is not actually Just Like Me) but ... I'm rewatching early Season 4 now and it is honestly so hard to persuade myself that Willow would be content to sit in this (objectively not very good!) pysch class (where they are teaching Jung and Freud as fact!) when the show had previously established her as somebody who was hacking into government computers for fun before she ever met Buffy, and who talks about liking math, and who regularly competed in her school's science fair, and started work on trying to rebuild Ted the robot when she was a teenager, and who was headhunted by a company that was not quite explicitly mid-1990s Microsoft, and who taught her high school computer class while a high school student. Let Willow be computer science student you wrote her as, you cowards!
Yes, later in the season the show will use Willow "not being as interested in computers any more" as a(n honestly not very coherent) metaphor for her coming out as a lesbian, but we aren't at that point yet! (And besides, why would getting into magic make Willow more interested in outdated pop pysch? As opposed to, say, quantum mechanics or category theory or anything else that more closely resembles the show's take on magic?) We haven't even met Tara! It feels very obvious to me that the writers just want Willow to go to classes with Buffy and don't particularly care that the character they created in the first three seasons wouldn't want to go to those classes.
At least, Willow wouldn't want to go to those classes unless her best friend was also going. (And, actually, why is Buffy apparently majoring in pysch now, anyway? What happened to her previously established love of English literature? I know the writers bring that up again next season; it feels a bit pointless they ignore it now.)
So my current headcanon is that Willow is going to a bunch of computing and math classes this semester (or at least she will be until gets distracted by magic/Tara), on top of Maggie Walsh's pysch classes, she just pretends she isn't because she doesn't want Buffy to think she's showing off by taking such a high course load. Whenever there's a college scene with Buffy present and not Willow, I assume Willow is somewhere off-screen learning about the axioms of Zermelo Fraenkel set theory or about assembly language or about crystal oscillators or ... you know, something I would she would actually care about.
13 What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?
Willow started using the internet in the mid- to late 90s, which I think would have had a big impact on the sorts of symbols she’d use. That’s a bit too early for emoji, I think: I don’t see Willow using them. I can see Willow using the old classic of :/ a lot though (especially if she also introduced Xander to IRC at some point)
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Early MCYTblr Interviews: mcyt-quotes
today's interviewee is mcyt-quotes, one of the first MCYT quotes blogs, member of MCYTblr since SMPLive, and winner of the first MCYTblr elections! below is a transcript of their questions and answers.
Q: To begin with, what was your overall MCYTblr experience like? Does anything particularly stick out to you?
A: it was fun, by and large. a good outlet for me to talk with likeminded people, and a good distraction to get me through my senior years of high school. i’ve been a public figure in a few online fandom spaces, now, and i think what stood out the most in the mcytblr space is the fact that some of the larger blogs were almost treated like mini-content creators themselves ? i got fanart a few times, especially through the whole election fiasco, and i remember there being incorrect quote blogs etc that i would pop up on now and then. i’ve never seen it happen on that scale before - it was odd, but fun in its own way. defiantly gave early-mid MCYTblr its own personality
Q: Speaking of the elections, do you remember what it was like to run in them? I remember that you won, but I'm interested to hear what it was like from your point of view.
A: ahahaha that was an experience. i fully signed up as a joke - i wasn’t very active on discord or very close with many of the other blogs, and i didn’t realise that my follower count was on the higher end of the spectrum, so i didn’t think i had a chance. just wanted to muck around and procrastinate studying for my final exams. things sorta spiralled though - i got hooked up with two bloody fantastic vice candidates (@the-royal-bat-snake and @sosigshoney) who did literally everything, and i also underestimated MCYTblr’s tendency to do it for the bit. i remember my campaign being something to the effect of promising a militia of arsonists, kitten genocide, cannibalism generally, and a total removal of free speech and thought ? and then i was elected and i was like ah fuck, i don’t have time for this. and then suddenly i was in the middle of some vast RP conspiracy that i was mostly asleep through, being Aussie, and very lost
Q: You mentioned that in the MCYT fandom, blogs were treated like smaller content creators-- how was that different from your other fandom experiences, out of curiosity?
A: so that sort of environment has popped up in other fandom spaces that i’ve been in - most obvious would be (and i want no judgement) the instagram DC and Marvel comics community, where i spent a few years running a large page. there were definitely elements of it - pages would get memes dedicated to them, etc. but lore ? i’ve never seen that before. i think it might be something about the nature of MCYT - aspects of the fandom, especially post Dream SMP (when this behaviour became most common) was built on mythologising people. not in the sense of worshipping them, but more so in the sense of fitting them into fictional narratives, just like the Dream SMP. and the blog owners themselves were primed to happily accept RP scenarios (something which has historically been seen as ‘cringe’), particularly those which blend absurdism and emotion. so the prison blogs, the election and subsequent RP, the penis SMP, the incorrect quotes blogs dedicated to fandom blogs (literally fandom-ception) came pretty naturally
idk, with more and time and reflection there’s probably something interesting there - Dream SMP was pretty unique in it’s time, and tumblr (especially post 2012) is a unique platform, so it makes sense they combined like that
Q: That makes me wonder, too-- it hasn't come up much before this, but I think it's an important aspect to examine: Do you think that large numbers of people (especially younger ones) being quarantined contributed to the intense/fast-paced fandom?
A: oh absolutely. it was pretty crazy to watch as a (semi) outsider. i joined the fandom in 2019, when it was Very small on tumblr - there maybe three other blogs i could follow who were MCYT related ? and then Covid hit and it bloody exploded. as i’ve mentioned, i was in my final year of high school, plus my town was only quarantined for a small period of time, so i didn’t really get that classic quarantine experience of having nothing to do. but christ, you could tell that so many people were spending practically their whole lives living through MCYT. and i don’t think that was a bad thing - it was clearly a great experience for a lot of people. but that’s why you had things popping up like the high school au blog dedicated to other MCYTblr blogs (where i think i was actually used as some evil class president or something ?? idk), which you would Not have seen in any other environment, i reckon
and i cannot stress your fast paced comment enough - every time i woke up it felt like heaps of astronomical events had happened in the few hours of USA timezone that had passed
it was fun - i felt like a long suffering older cousin at some points, but i don’t mind. that’s part of why i leaned into the election RP - if i could be as evil as possible, i gave them something to have fun with
Q: Now that you mention it, it's really interesting how that played out almost exactly as it did in the DSMP itself! A less-invested party coming in with a cartoonishly evil plan and winning the election to be played off of in roleplay, it's amazing how it worked out like that.
A: ahaha and it wasn’t lost on people at the time !! i was known for quite a while afterwards as a Schlatt-kinnie, which i was happy to lean into. a lot of the plot after that was lost on me - it was my two vice’s that i mentioned before and the rest of the cabinet which really carried things, and i would just pop in whenever i happened to be awake to endorse kitten genocide or something like that then go back to studying. but i’m pretty sure it did continue to trace the DSMP for a while afterwards - i banned the cult party [silverfish2020], so they were pretty quick to form a rebellion group, while i just continued to make worse and worse decisions. to be honest, though, it eventually spiralled out of control - i was taking it so laissez-faire that i forgot some people were genuinely invested, and while i forget details i definitely genuinely pissed a few people off at some point. i remember pretty vividly at one point someone made a post where they said they were worried i was going to doxx them or something like that (?) and i was like damn, this shits more serious than i thought it was. so i arranged to have my character assassinated and noped out - i couldn’t tell you what happened after that (or, frankly, before it). honestly, if you’re interested in niche fandom history though there’s probably something interesting in what went down - worth looking into if you’re bored
Q: Do you remember any other 'Big MCYTblr events'? It's alright if you don't remember what happened during them-- if you can't recall, I'll use them to ask around for people who participated!
A: i don’t rlly remember any other events…i know they happened, but i really had no interest in getting involved beyond answering whatever asks i would get about them. the election from memory was the first Big one (unless prom was first ? idk they were close together) and after that i was very happy to let Quotes as a character die, and i mostly ignored them
plus, it was about that time i started leaving the fandom - maybe a month or so later. by that point the community was Big, and moving fast, and a lot of drama had begun to leak in. you’ve covered some of the controversial blogs etc, and while i didn’t care about them personally they were indicative that the fandom space was different. combine that with me moving out of home and starting university, and i pretty much shut the blog down
Q: What led you to create the mcyt-quotes blog in the first place?
A: ummm i reckon just to have somewhere to talk about minecraft monday. there wasn’t a very dedicated fan base, and fuck knows i wasn’t gonna be talking about minecraft irl in a public aussie high school (i don’t have a death wish) so it just gave me somewhere to collect my thoughts. nothing interesting 🤷♀️
Q: Now that you mention it-- what are some of your most memorable moments from Minecraft Monday, whether from creators or the fandom?
A: ahhhhh there were some good ones. the fandom was deeply toxic during minecraft monday, but in a fun way - it felt sorta like following a sport more than anything. a niche reference here, but it felt the same as being a fan of australia’s soccer leagues - everyone hates each other, the organisers are greedy pricks who have no idea what’s going on, and there’s a new, entirely avoidable catastrophe happening every week. i think top moments include: the /top incident, where the fandom was divided after a scandal where Techno used an exploit to beat Vikkstar in an arena game; the a6d beef, where a6d was banned for not having enough viewers and then snuck back in and got into twitter drama with Keemstar; the week were Carson tried to sabotage Techno, leading to some of the most awkward moments possible and resulting in a lot of hate for the guy when he was otherwise still popular; week 7, where literally everything that could be broken was broken; James Charles getting adopted by the Minecraft community after his first cancelling but before everything that went down afterwards; and week 14, where a hacker griefed the arena, destroyed the event, and then accidentally doxxed himself while streaming it all. a fitting end
the main outlet for MCYT back then was actually reddit - there was a very active MCM subreddit which had a ton of statistics etc. the fandom was very into statistics back then, and actually analysing who would be a threat. that increased even more when serious esports players were added to the mix, like XQC and T1yler. they brought the toxic sweaty gamer energy to the competition, and the MC youtubers generally found them hilarious
it’s actually funny how much the vibe of the fandom changes depending on what’s most popular - MCM felt like sports fans, SMPEarth felt like historians, and DSMP was a giant role play arena
Q: Were you a part of the subreddit? (And, if so-- was it any different from MCYT Tumblr?)
A: yeah, i was crazy active on that subreddit !! i was always rooting for either Techno, Schlatt, or James Charles - Techno because he permanently dominated, Schlatt cause i was a casual SMPLive fan, and JC for the meme - and because at the time he was pretty widely accepted, since people loved that he genuinely seemed to get into the competition. funnily, the only time i’ve seen this competitive energy recreated was in the Techno vs Dream duel (which i also got way too competitive about). MCM was the first serious introduction of old school MC youtubers to the new generation - it was fun seeing all the classics slowly come around to Techno when they realised he wasn’t a sweat he was just good, or seeing them try to navigate conversations with the SMPLive gang when the old guard was still trying to be family friendly. the best week was actually Week 14, when a collection of old MCYTbers and new MCYTbers (and James Charles) decided fuck it and went to play on Hypixel for a few hours. it was great. i was also, later, very active on the SMPEarth wiki (the main hub for the fandom in those days) - that place is a gem to this day, and i’m not just saying that because i wrote far too much of it
Q: As time went on, did you see the culture of the fandom shift? What was it like to watch?
A: it shifted a Lot between different phases. even the demographic changed, at different points. you would be hard pressed to imagine that the fans of SMPLive were the same as DSMP, even though there was overlap in creators. even something more recent, like SMPEarth to DSMP - totally different vibe. you can see aspects that influenced each other, though - for example, the SMPE fandom’s obsession with making flags for different factions and putting factions at war with each other absolutely led into the establishment of L’Manburg. then Eret had his betrayal moment, and it turned from SMPE style war roleplay (which you would have on SMPLive, even, for example with the Stal conflict) to actual personal role play, where there were characters separate from the content creators. that division had never been identified before. that was when u started to see a lot of the mainstay parts of today’s fandom pop up - e.g. the c! vs cc! shorthand, or the constant division of content creators onto duos or other groups, and (of course) the shipping debates started up. they had always been there, especially in the Dream side of the fandom (which evolved spiritually from the Skeppy side, imo, which had similar debates) but they Really blew up with DSMP
that’s sort of when i stepped out - nothing against that style of fandom, it’s just not for me
Q: I've heard a lot of people who were in 2019-2020 MCYTblr say that the fandom was a lot more close-knit during that time-- was that your experience of it, too?
A: very much so. it was inevitable, we were a small bunch. i wouldn’t go so far as to say that everyone knew everyone, but everyone definitely had a mutual friend. i mean, hell, even connections to the creators were common - a lot of people on stuff like love or host were fans themselves. of course, looking back at the way that power was abused by certain creators paints it in a different light, but at the time it was fun
Q: Are there any fandom in-jokes, copypastas, running bits, or anything similar that you can remember from your time in the fandom?
A: too many to name. most of them id get in my inbox and just be confused, tbh, like the Kroger anon or some of the kinnies. i’ll try to go through some pre-DSMP era ones from the top of my head. the Hey Wilbur copypasta was cursed, as was SMPRompa (which i actually read the first couple chapters of, out of morbid curiosity. it was an experience). Stal, of course, was iconic in its time, as was the cuck shed. there was Keemstar being referred to as a gnome, his beef with the Skeppy gang, the ‘I could kiss you’ incident, ‘Hey Technoblade’. Jschlatt’s love or host bit where he was a closeted, deeply christian man made the rounds. Technoplane, of course. the Carson crying meme, and Gumball killing James Charles. Petezahutt dropping MCM to spite Keemstar, and Keemstar lying about it. ‘Preston is rusty’ was a classic MCM era meme, after the two fucking dominated. the sheer amount of times MCM got hacked was a bit of an in-joke, as was who actually won week 7 (to this day we didn’t know)
Q: Alright, and last one! Is there anything else you can remember/want archived, or any comments about MCYTblr as a whole?
A: ummmm i don’t think so ! i’ve said pretty much everything that immediately comes to mind. definitely an interesting fandom - one of the most unique i’ve seen. i appreciate your account a lot ! it’s funny to see old posts pop up again
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what about bob with a hippie stoner reader?
LISTEN ive had this in my inbox for a while because i wANTED to be high while i wrote it but i kept forgetting 😭 anyway as a stoner myself i LOVE this idea
Bob x Stoner Reader
~ Bob was a smoker but then he quit. He didn’t smoke weed tho he smoked actual cigarettes. Your the first time he smoked weed
~Probably a paranoid high. He’s lookin around while goin “Punkin, they’re all lookin at me….. all the people i’ve killed…. THEY WONT GO AWAY GETOUTOFMYHEADGETOUTOFMYHEADGETOUTOFMYHEADGETOUTOFMYHEADGETOUTOFMYHEADGETOUTOFMYHEAD-“
~Please take care of him he canNOT control himself.
~If you distract Bob from his paranoia, he’s actually pretty chill. He definitely moves a LOT slower and has a slower reaction time.
~Bob’s also incredibly honest when he’s high, ask him anything and he will answer you in extreme detail.
~LOVES to wake and bake with you, best part of his day
~Bob loves a good ol' joint, you gotta teach him how to use bongs and pipes :/
~Can't roll lolz
~Bob loves it when you inhale, kiss him, and then release the smoke into his mouth mid-kiss he thinks its so hot (i THINK its called shotgunning but im not sure)
~If Bob's high enough, he'll get tired and force you to cuddle him to sleep. Oh your not tired at all?? Too bad it's bed time.
#bob velseb#bob velseb x reader#spooky month tender treats bob#spooky month tender treats#spooky month bob#spooky month#spookussy
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here to stay (Rhett Abbott x OC)
Summary: a first date for our lovers
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC (Tessa Abernathy)
Word Count: 5203
Warnings: supporting oc characters, a little first date awkwardness, rhett is dyslexic, EXPLICET SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (slight hand kink, a very hot makeout, vaginal fingering, description of rhett's monster dong)
THREE | FOUR | FIVE
✎……likes are great but comments/reblogs are even better!
✎……ty @newlibrary for looking this over for me
✎……masterlist on pinned
Tessa rummaged through her closet looking for something to wear. It had been even longer since the last time she went on a date. At this point, she couldn’t even remember who it was with, where they went, or what they did. And that wasn’t a good sign. It felt nearly like an omen. That she was doomed to repeat the cycle of dating and forgetting until she turned old and grey.
She released a harsh sigh as she pushed a few hangers around.
That was not to say she didn’t like Rhett. She did. He was kind and gentle and caring in a way that surprised her. His little smiles and big blue eyes like the ocean intrigued her. And so did those hands, big and veiny and calloused from years of work and riding. He felt like cloudy autumn days where you got to stay inside and curl up under a blanket — watch the rain on the windows. She wanted to stay and watch the rain forever if he let her.
But she didn’t want to hold out hope. He would turn out just like the rest. Eventually, her schedule and her priorities would just be too much. And he would leave. And she would forget.
“Are you goin’ somewhere?” a voice asked from the doorway to her bedroom.
Tessa jumped, a hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart as she gave her intruder a look. Jace just grinned back as he stepped further into the room.
“What’re you doin’ up here, bud?” she asked but didn’t stop him as he wandered over to her vanity and took a seat.
He didn’t look at her as he fiddled with the makeup products she left out. “They’re playing X-Box…Won’t let me have a turn cause I’m too little.”
Tessa frowned. She knew if she just sent him back downstairs, with her go ahead to tell the other boys to let him play, he would get ridiculed. It was hard being so much younger than everyone else in the house, especially when the oldest was seventeen. So, she allowed him to stay, going back to her idle pushing and shoving of various clothing items until something spoke to her.
“You goin’ on a date?” he asked.
When she looked back over her shoulder at him, he was making a pyramid out of her eyeshadow pallets.
“What makes you think that?” she questioned back.
“You’re wearin’ makeup,” he replied matter of factly, “And you’ve been lookin’ through your dresses for like three minutes.”
Tessa turned to look at him with a hand on her hip. “Good grief, how long were you standin’ there?”
Jace only smiled. “So’re you goin’ on a date or not?”
“Yes, I…Am.” She pointed a finger at him. “But don’t tell everyone else.”
Jace held up his pinky finger, face deadly serious for a nine-year-old. She crossed the room, equally serious as she hooked her pinky with his.
“Promise,” he answered, then he looked around her at her closet with his little brows scrunched up. “The blue one looks pretty.”
Letting go of his pinky, Tessa took the few steps back and pulled out the dress in question. She forgot how much she liked that dress. Pale blue with little white spots, a high neckline and reaching her mid-calf. Not to mention the slit up the side of the dress that nearly went all the way up her thigh. Jace nodded enthusiastically as she held it up.
“Alright, decision made.”
Rhett pulled up in front of the house a few minutes after six. Tessa was already out on the porch, not wanting to make a fuss when she left and be a distraction to the precarious social balance of the house. She waved as he came around the front of the truck, that little smile gracing his face.
He looked nice. Black jean button up, the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a dark wash pant. Nothing fancy, but it was clear he put some effort into his appearance. The thought made a blush bloom on her cheeks as she stepped down from the porch. And her blush only grew when she spotted the wildflowers in his hand, getting spun nervously between his forefinger and thumb.
“Hey,” she greeted him softly as she came to a stop at the end of the path up to the curb.
“Hi,” he replied, grin never leaving his face as he just looked at her for a moment, then he seemed to remember himself with a cough. “Er — You look…Really pretty.”
“Thank you.”
She looked down at the dress Jace picked out that she paired with a sweater and a pair of white sneakers that weren’t too battered. Standing in front of him now, she wondered if she shouldn’t have worn something else. But she couldn’t focus on it for long when he was looking at her in a way she only saw in movies.
“Here — these’re for you.” He held out the flowers, three little black-eyed suzannes. “Saw’em on the side’a the road as I was drivin’ in. Reminded me’a you.”
Tessa felt butterflies come alive in her stomach as she gingerly took the flowers from him. Butterflies and sunshine and the tang of sheer affection. He picked them himself. He went out of his way to get them. Just because they reminded him of her. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her and she felt tears prick at her eyes and they were only a few seconds into this date.
“I love them,” she spoke genuinely, looking up into his unsure and open face. “Thank you.”
He looked away from her and nodded, his cheeks a light shade of pink.
“Come on. Bet you’re starvin’.” Rhett nodded back towards the truck before he turned and opened the passenger side door.
“I am,” she agreed as she moved past him, “Where ya takin’ me?”
With her hand held gently in his own, he helped her up onto the step bar and inside the truck. It left something like electricity crackling in her palm.
“Uh — “ He paused, leaning against the open truck door. “El Ranchero?”
“Mm, sounds good,” she hummed and he smiled.
Tessa looked down at the flowers held delicately in her lap after he shut the door. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them though. In her purse, they would get crushed. And she couldn’t just hold them all night. So instead, she knotted the stems together as best she could then tucked them behind her ear. When Rhett climbed into the truck, she looked over at him with a smile and he huffed out a laugh.
“God, you’re adorable,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, but she still heard him.
It still made a heat fill what felt like her entire face as she tucked her lips between her teeth and smiled down into her lap.
The drive over to the restaurant was short, but filled with conversation. They spoke idly about how their weeks went and what they planned to do now that the weekend was finally here. Tessa explained the Christmas charity drive she started planning that week. And Rhett talked about how the Abbott Ranch was working on storing hay for the winter, and how he was signed up for a rodeo passing through the county here in a couple weeks.
They parked near the courthouse and Rhett opened her door for her, helping her down from the truck with a steady hand. She didn’t want him to let go, so warm and comforting to her nerves that were starting to creep in. And it seemed that he didn’t either with the way he reluctantly let go of her much smaller hand and coughed into his fist.
El Ranchero was probably the nicest restaurant in Wabang. Authentic Mexican food, mostly covered in cheese, with margarita glasses as big as your head and TVs bolted into the walls showing various sports games. And on Friday night the place was packed. The small lobby just inside the front door filled to overflowing with couples and families waiting to be seated.
Rhett took the lead, sliding past people with muttered apologies and Tessa following closely behind. When they made it to the hostess, she looked frazzled, but she still smiled brilliantly at them.
“Hi, how many?” she asked as Rhett came to a stop in front of the podium.
“Uh, just two,” he replied.
She didn’t even glance down at her chart before she answered, that practiced sympathy in her tone, “That’s gonna be about an hour wait.”
“An hour?” Rhett muttered, looking over at Tessa with a furrowed brow. “I…”
His cheeks were pinked, eyes questioning. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before she turned back to the hostess. “Thank you. Think we’ll parce out our other options.”
Then they pushed their way through the crowd and back outside. As soon as they were in the chilled air, sunset painting the sky, Rhett let go of her hand and pushed his own through his long locks.
“Shit, m’sorry. I — I should’ve made a reservation, I guess.”
“S’okay,” she assured with a smile. “We can just go to Moe’s? If that sounds good.”
“The diner?” he questioned, sounding unsure.
Tessa shrugged. “They serve all-day breakfast — and honestly pancakes sound delicious right now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Moe’s Diner was only a block away, across the street from the bank. It wasn’t exactly first date material. But in Wabang they were short on options. Rhett and Tessa walked close to each other’s sides. Her shoulder brushing his arm with every step. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and she was grateful for it.
“You still have my flannel, ya know,” he commented as they walked.
“Shit.” She slapped a palm to her forehead, then checked to make sure the flowers were still safe behind her ear. “I meant to grab it, too. S’on my vanity and everythin’!”
“Keep it. Looks better on you, anyway,” he said in his quiet way and it made her blush.
Rhett opened the entrance to Moe’s and gestured for her to go in first, and he followed close behind her with a wide palm pressed into her back. A heat pooled in her lower belly at the contact that she tried to tamper down. But she couldn’t help but focus on his hand, gentle and warm, as they walked between the counter and a few empty booths.
There was barely anyone inside. Just a few old cowboys and the diner staff. They practically had their choice of seats. And Rhett guided them, hand still low on her spine, to a booth in the far back corner.
Tessa slid across the blue leather into the seat facing the window, while Rhett took the seat across from her with a small smile. A waitress came by with the menus and asked what they wanted to drink. Tessa ordered a decaf coffee, Rhett got a sweet tea.
While she opened up her menu to search for the pancakes, Rhett asked, “So’d Wyatt go to school today?”
“He did,” she replied, “For the whole time, even. But that’s mostly ‘cause if he skips one more time the cops are gonna have to get involved.”
“He ever tell ya why?”
She found the pancakes and marked what she wanted with her pointer finger, then she fully looked up at Rhett with her lips pursed. “No. Mostly just shrugs when we ask.”
Rhett grunted, brows furrowed as he fiddled with the edge of his menu. She couldn’t help but watch him as he thought, as he worked his tongue between his teeth and cheek. The sunset brilliant shades of orange and pink in the window behind him. He wasn’t the same boy that she would admire from across the high school halls anymore. That she would watch fool around with Walker and all of those sons of cowboys, always too nervous to say anything. He was a little more rough around the edges now, a little more reserved, but she could still see what she saw back then: a good heart.
The waitress came with their drinks and took their dinner order. Tessa got the strawberry topped pancakes and Rhett ordered a burger. And when she was gone, he looked at Tessa completely now. Eyes big and blue and lit by the last light of day as a smile ticked up the corner of his mouth. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“I skipped a lot at that age,” he said, eyes focused back down at the table — at the straw wrapper he was folding up with deft fingers.
Her eyebrows raised. “You did?”
“Yeah — just…Whole thing made me feel like an idiot. So I’d just leave.” He shrugged and relaxed back into the booth. “Didn’t find out till later m’dyslexic. That explained a lot.”
Tessa thought back to all the times she tried to help Wyatt with his homework since the school year started. How he seemed to read slowly and get frustrated easily by the task. How words in his short essays would be spelled wrong, but then correctly a few sentences later. Then just in regular conversation, Wyatt sometimes would struggle to find the word he wanted to use — often leaving him in the dust in conversations with the other boys. It made perfect sense, and Tessa nearly wanted to smack herself for not seeing it sooner.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, reaching for her purse and pulling out the small notebook she kept inside.
Rhett chuckled. “What?”
“Um — “ She quickly flipped to a blank page and jotted down all the signs quickly, handwriting sloppy and barely legible but it would do. “ — I think ya just solved Wyatt’s puzzle.”
“His puzzle?”
She nodded with a small smile, closing the notebook and putting it back in her purse. “I…I like to think of each boy as a puzzle. Unique in their design. A few pieces are missin’, but they’re there — just gotta…Be willin’ to look for ‘em and put ‘em where they go so they can live their best lives.”
Rhett just looked at her for a moment, and she cocked her head to one side as she watched him back. She wrapped her hands around her warm mug and took a sip. A small chuckle slipped past his lips as he shook his head gently, blue eyes slipping to focus on the table top.
“Do I got a puzzle?” he asked quietly.
“‘Course you do,” she replied with a shrug, “Everybody does.”
“Ya solved it yet?”
“Still workin’ on it,” she chuckled back and he laughed quietly.
Their food came and they ate while they talked. About high school, about what they’ve been up to the past six years, about what other people they went to high school with have been up to. How Laney and Walker were probably going to end up married and miserable and finally divorced. How Rhett watched his dad win the Amelia County Rodeo when he was just a kid and that started him on his path to being a bull rider. How he thought it would get him out of Wabang and off his family ranch, but neither of those things seemed to work out for him. How Tessa was glad he was still around. How she managed to balance working at her family’s horse ranch, volunteering at the Boy’s Home, and getting her degree online. How Trevor Tillerson was still such a jackass after all this time.
Rhett laughed around the last bite of his burger, fingers picking at his last few fries before he chuckled out, “God, why’d I never notice you in high school?”
“Ya had your eyes on somebody else,” she said simply.
His cheeks turned pink. They both knew exactly who she was talking about, she didn’t have to say it. Maria Olivares was the only girl Rhett ever cared about during those days. And Maria knew it too, even if she had a boyfriend. Tessa’s friend group never liked her much, and while Tessa herself tried to keep an open mind about the girl, she had to agree there was something off about her. It didn’t matter now. She was out of Wabang. Off at gradschool, learning to be a vet. There was no chance she was ever coming back.
“I did try though,” Tessa went on, leaning her elbows on the table with a smile. “Considerin’ I had a huge crush on ya sophomore year.”
“Seriously?” he questioned, eyes sparkling with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Oh, yeah. It was kinda embarrassin’ honestly.” She looked down at her crossed arms, a heat in her cheeks.
“D’you, uh…D’you still have a crush on me now?” he asked quietly.
Tessa looked up at him. Shy little smile. The sky now dark, lit by street lamps, behind him. The neon from outside the building shown on his face in lines of muted pink. There was something so very earnest about Rhett Abbott. Honest and rough. Like midnight rain. And even if it scared her, even if she wondered if her heart would get broken, she wanted to live in that rain for just a little bit longer.
“Mm — maybe a little one,” she finally hummed and his smile only grew.
Rhett paid for dinner with the waitress smiling at them knowingly. The old cowboys tipped their stetsons at them as they walked out, like they knew something too, and it made Tessa feel warm all over.
As they walked back to the truck, Rhett asked, “Uh — the drive-in’s playin’ their last movie of the season t’night. Some spaghetti western. Would ya wanna maybe…?”
“I’d love to — “ She looked down at herself, arms already wrapped around her middle tight to try and stave off the cold. “I might just freeze, though.”
“I — I’ve got blankets,” he said.
“Oh, so this was your plan all along?”
He chuckled, pushing a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda.”
“I like your plan,” she told him honestly and he smiled down at her before taking her hand.
His hand was so warm and so much bigger than her own. Calloused along the edges of his palms and the tips of his fingers. He threaded his fingers through her own and she could barely grasp the whole thing. His thumb moved over the back of her hand as he pulled her in to walk closer to his side. And she tried not to think about that big hand on other parts of her body. Her hip. Her throat. Between her thighs. She felt her cunt throb at the thought.
Jesus Christ.
She knew it had been a while since she got laid, but she didn’t think it had been so long that just holding hands with a guy would make her this turned on. But there she was, consumed with anything but pure thoughts as they walked up to the passenger side of his truck.
Rhett tugged her to a stop just before she reached out to pull the door open. She turned to face him, brow furrowed in confusion. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he looked down at her. Releasing her hand, he played with her fingers instead and it forced an eruption of butterflies to go off in her stomach.
Like some asteroid falling into orbit, she drifted closer to him.
“I — I really wanna kiss you,” he admitted quietly, eyes squinted in the overhead light of the street lamp.
Tessa couldn’t think of what to say, all words like a dream forgotten by morning. But she knew what she wanted, so she found herself nodding.
“Yeah?” he chuckled, pulling her closer until her chest was nearly flush with his own. “You want that?”
She just kept nodding, she couldn’t stop. Rhett smiled as he cupped her cheek in his free palm, forcing her head to still. Then he bent down and pressed his lips to her own.
It was more gentle than she ever thought he could be. Lips moving slow and tender, his thumb brushing up against the apple of her cheek. And shorter than she wanted it to be. As he pulled away, she chased his lips with a soft gasp that made him smirk.
“Come on,” he nodded his head towards the truck, thumb still tracing just beneath her eye. “We’ll miss the movie.”
By the time they paid and pulled into a spot, the Starlite Drive-In was nearly full. They didn’t have a great view of the screen made from sheets of plywood painted white, but that was okay. Kids screamed and ran around closer to the screen where a big patch of grass was located. People chatted in their lawn chairs and teenagers wandered back to the concessions building giggling amongst themselves.
Rhett did have some blankets thrown into the bed of his truck. A few old quilts and an afghan. He made quick work of spreading one of the quilts out in the bed. Don’t wanna ruin your pretty dress, he said, as he hopped up onto the tailgate to straighten it out. Then he offered his hand to pull her up into the truck. She took it gratefully, the other hand holding up the skirt of her dress so it wasn’t in the way.
They leaned back against the cab, shoulder to shoulder, just in time for the movie to start.
It was one of those movies old enough that stylized credits rolled first, some brassy western tune playing overtop. Tessa layered another quilt and the afghan over their laps with a shiver. Rhett chuckled as he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her in tight against his side. He was warm in stark contrast to the chilled air of early November and she burrowed into his side without a care in the world. Arms tucked into her chest.
“God, it’s cold,” she muttered.
“M’sorry,” he mumbled back, then after a long pause he added, “I can take ya home, if ya — “
She didn’t let him finish. “No. I wanna stay…With you.”
“Okay.”
And she did warm up eventually, in no small part to the way Rhett was lighting a fire beneath her skin. She had to wonder if he was doing it intentionally. If he knew just what he was doing with that hand draped over her shoulder. The movie had started, characters were being established and the plot was in motion, but she didn’t have a clue what was going on. Every cell in her body seemed specifically attuned to the way his fingers danced along her collarbone. Skimmed up the side of her neck. Moved down her bicep and back up in the most delicate pattern.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him slip his free hand beneath the blankets in their laps. And not a moment later, she felt that hand slide into the slit of her dress to touch her bare thigh. It made her jump, but she made no move to stop him as his rough palm nearly encompassed her leg. Tessa craned her head to look up at him. His blue gaze was focused on the screen, illuminated by it, but she really hoped he was just as distracted as she was. Her mouth felt dry as she opened it to speak, to say something, anything to express the want that simmered in her veins.
“R-Rhett?” she whispered and he turned to look at her instantly. “I — I really wanna kiss you again…”
He smirked down at her. “You want that?”
“I do.” She nodded, already leaning into him. “Please.”
That little smile didn’t leave his face as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers again. It was still just as gentle, just as sweet. But with a slight tilt of her head and a deep intake of breath, it was more. Rhett’s hand slipped from her shoulder to hold the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, as the kiss deepened. He slipped his tongue past her lips with a soft groan, exploring languidly and meeting no resistance.
As they kissed and licked and bit at each other’s lips, Rhett hooked one big hand around the inside of her knee and lifted her leg up. His hands were rough, calloused, warm. A gasp slipped out of her when his thumb brushed across her knee. Then he put his thigh beneath her own and settled her leg back down across his own beneath the blankets. Leaving her legs spread for him. He pecked her on the lips once, twice, a soft noise spilling out of her as his fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh.
“This okay?” he questioned softly against her swollen lips.
“Y-yeah. S’okay,” she whispered back.
Surging up, she captured him in another kiss, less slow and more needy as she gripped at his shirt and pushed her own tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sweet tea and the lingering hints of chewing tobacco. He took his time, hand moving inch by inch up the length of her leg. But when the very tips of his fingers touched the edge of her cotton panties, traced where the fabric met with her thigh, she pulled away from him with a gasp.
“Rhett,” she whispered, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt.
“You tell me t’stop and we’ll stop,” he replied, hand completely still and ready to retreat at her word.
Tessa shook her head. “No.”
“No what, sunshine?” he questioned, the nickname flooding her with a newfound warmth, as he bumped his nose with hers. “Gotta use your words.”
“Don’t stop, please.”
He started tracing the edge of her panties once more as he kissed her softly, almost reverently. Like it was the last time. She didn’t want it to be the last time. Then he brushed the back of one finger over her still clothed slit and she whined quietly, suddenly acutely aware of all the people around. And Rhett grunted low in his throat at finding her soaked through. Then he pushed her underwear to the side and parted her swollen lips.
“Fuck, you’re drippin’,” he mumbled as she fell back against the cab of the truck, her chest heaving as he swiped two fingers through her folds.
Pressing fervent kisses into her cheek and jaw, Rhett found her clit with ease and began to circle it with the perfect amount of pressure. Her mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, knowing that if they were anywhere else she would be a moaning, whimpering mess. But they were in public, the cowboys were having a shootout in some saloon on screen, and she could hear the distant giggles of children over the blood rushing in her ears.
Were they seriously doing this? Was Rhett Abbott about to finger her on their first date at the drive-in? As he slipped one finger inside, the only thing she could think was yes, yes, yes, yes.
“That feel good, sunshine?” he whispered, biting at her earlobe.
His finger crooked against the spongey spot inside she could never reach as his thumb rubbed circles into her clit. It was warmth and electricity and spring sunshine and midnight rain all at once. One hand had a death grip on his thigh, the other clutched his forearm leading down between her thighs on top of the blankets.
A soft keen slipped out of her throat just before the words could get out, “Yes, Rhett…So good.”
“That’s it, want ya t’feel good.” He pumped his finger slowly until he could fit another. The stretch only hurt for a moment, his digits so much thicker than her own, but then it was nothing but white hot pleasure as he curled them against her walls. “There ya go — that’s my girl. Takin’ my fingers so well.”
My girl, my girl, my girl — the words rattled around her emptied head like flies caught in a jar.
He kissed and licked and sucked at her neck and shoulder, his other arm holding her tight to him as he worked her over like he had been doing it for years. Like he knew exactly where to touch, exactly what speed she liked, exactly what motions made her writhe and spots dance in her vision.
All too soon, she could feel it coming. Building and building in the pit of her very being as Rhett curled his fingers just so and pushed hard into her clit.
She turned her head to meet him in a sloppy kiss then whispered, “I — I’m gonna…”
“Just let go for me, sunshine.”
Her moan was probably a little too loud but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she came. Hips grinding against his hand as he worked her through it with slow touches. Rhett kept his fingers inside during the initial come down, as she panted and leaned her head back against the window of the truck cab. Then he pulled them out slowly, murmuring an apology at her pained hiss.
“Okay?” he asked her gently as he fixed the flowers somehow still tucked behind her ear.
“Yeah — okay.”
He urged her to rest her head against his shoulder and she went willingly. Heart still hammering in her chest and mind reeling over what just happened. She couldn’t help but laugh quietly to herself.
Holy shit.
Rhett kissed the top of her head and she looked up at him in time to watch him suck the fingers that were once inside her clean. Watch his eyelids flutter and listen to the soft moan he released at her juices on his tongue. For a moment, all she could think about was his face between her thighs. Getting a real taste.
He was probably expecting something in return. He just got her off and there was no doubt he was rock hard in his Wranglers. Tessa swallowed down her sudden apprehension as she moved her hand up his jean clad thigh and over his crotch. She was right, he was hard — straining against his pants. The outline of him was thick and long beneath the palm of her hand. He grunted in her ear and it was nearly sinful in its desire.
But then he grabbed her hand and pulled it away.
Looking up at him with wide eyes she opened her mouth to start apologizing, to say whatever it was he wanted to hear. But he was already shaking his head, letting go of her hand to cup her cheek.
“M’alright. This’s about you. I — I just wanted t’make you feel good,” he told her in his quiet, earnest way.
A shaky laugh slipped past her lips as she put her hand over his. “Mission accomplished, Abbott.”
He laughed quietly, bumping his forehead against her own. Then he kissed her again. Soft and sweet. Then again, and again. Before he dropped his hand from her face and turned back to the movie that was now complete nonsense to them both.
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#oc: tessa abernathy#fic: here to stay#fd: outer range#outer range x oc#outer range imagine#outer range fanfiction#outer range fanfic#outer range fic#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x oc#rhett abbott imagine#rhett abbott fanfiction#rhett abbott fanfic#rhett abbott fic#fic update
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Shock and Delight
Chapter 4
Gif by @joncons
After the first two dances with Lyonel end, Aemma finds welcome refuge in her obnoxiously large family to avoid having to dance with him again.
She dances with Jace, with Cousins Daemion and Daeron, Uncle Malentine, Cousin Rogar, Uncle Malentine's sons with his Summer Islander wife and then Daemon who offers to kill Hightower for her.
When she sees Lyonel approach her, she runs for the nearest exit.
The princess is too busy looking behind her to see where she’s going and collides with a taller man and his punch cup near the door.
“Fuck.” Both mutter quietly as they assess the damage while Aemma tries to see if Lyonel is still following her.
“I am so sorry for this---” to Aemma’s horror she looks up to see it is none other than Aemond. The one half-uncle who truly has a reason to hate them.
Especially her and Luke. Luke for taking his eye, Aemma for speaking nothing but the whole truth when asked by the king.
Luke had kept his eye because it was done in self-defense. The queen refused to believe Aemond was not blameless in the situation and had attacked mother while calling Aemma a conniving little snake even though Aemma was fucking eleven.
After that and mother’s ill-timed elopement with Daemon ---some scant two moons after father was murdered in Spicetown by Qarl--- they learned to enjoy the uneasy peace brought on by her banishment.
That had been seven years ago and the look in his eye when he saw them arrive yesterday told her he hadn’t forgiven them for the loss of his eye and the humiliation of his mother.
Out of all the men here, she just had to crash into him.
“Are you that desperate for my attention?” he asks immediately getting the wrong idea about her.
“Believe me, you are the last man I could ever set my cap on.” Aemma answered as they retreated to the hall where servants had come to their rescue.
When Lyonel comes to her ‘rescue’, she amends it. “Second to last man.”
“Hightower.” Aemond stares the man down and stops him mid-track when he tries to get handsy with her again. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your grubby paws off my niece.”
There is more contempt on Hightower than on niece, Aemma supposed that was a good sign.
“I was only trying to help, Targaryen. Your mother was so kind as to ask me to ensure her Diamond was in good hands.” He said in his defense.
“Of course, she would.” Aemma grumbled low enough to be unintelligible.
“What was that, your highness?” Lyonel asks, thinking she was speaking to him.
“The princess said she was cold.” Aemond lies for her, confusing her further.
He hates them, why is he helping her?
The dress was ruined, his doublet as well, but it gives the both of them a chance to escape that hell.
His eye was hurting like hell and the wine and ale weren’t cutting it. Aemond’s tried not depend too much on the opium pipe and the hashish from Dorne but he needs it if he wants to get some fucking rest.
“Thank you.” Aemma said quietly as they waited for her mother or brother to escort her to their wing of the castle.
He could do it, but something tells him Rhaenyra intends to push him into courting Aemma.
As much as he loathed the part she played in denying him justice, even he wouldn’t be so cruel as to let her suffer Lyonel’s presence if he could help it.
It was odd to see her look so uncomfortable with the attention she received. Here she seemed to relax under the shawl brought to her by a servant girl and yet in the ball she looked like she wanted to run.
“I thought being the diamond is the dream of all young women.” Aemond isn’t sure what possessed him to make conversation with her, perhaps it was the boredom and the need for a distraction to keep his pain at bay.
“To those who are into that sort of thing, perhaps. It is a flattering thing, but I could do with less attention.” She admits with a sheepish look.
The future ruler of Westeros hates attention, while her usurper loves it, the irony is enough to make him scoff. Something she takes as him not believing her words.
“My suitors only see me as a crown they could have, now your mother has named me the prized sow of the market. I have become a trophy they desire and stopped being seen as a person.” She looks away thinking he is lending an unsympathetic ear.
And sure, while his mother was still envious of people getting married by choice, Aemond knows the hell it is to be trapped in a marriage arranged for bad reasons.
He'd seen how horrible it was for Aegon and Helaena until they found out why Rhaenyra and Laenor had Harwin for when they both fell in love with Elissa Piper.
“I hate dancing, but I have been told that I am rather good at it. If you need a name in your dance card to keep Lyonel away, you have my permission to add mine.” The prince said quietly and took his leave as he heard his sister’s voice as she wrangled her blended family into leaving.
That night with the help of the opium he smokes for the pain, he dreams he is dancing with her.
The next morning he orders the bill for his damaged doublet to be charged to Lyonel Hightower, but not before he adds Aemma’s ruined dress onto it.
As if by magic, The Morning Scandal appears at the door of every family in court. It circulates through Kingslanding by late morning and by evening everyone knows Aemma Velaryon was named the Diamond, Lady Myrielle Peake was not the only one who fainted, ostrich feathers are no longer in style and that an excessive use of green is gauche.
There is an entry about Daeron where the writer comments on his first appearance in court since he was sent away, but he is not insulted by the insinuation that he was sent away because he didn’t look Targaryen.
No, he is insulted at how freely this crazy writer talks about other’s business on it. And maybe a little insulted on his mother’s behalf, she did try very hard on the ball.
“Do you think she’s a Black?” Aemond asked looking rather calm despite the whole shit about his punch ending up on his green doublet and Aemma’s dress and hair because Lyonel couldn’t understand he was being rejected.
His rooms smelled of smoke last night, perhaps he’s returned to his opium again. A shame, he had promised his mother he would quit it for good.
“No, it calls Rhaenyra’s coordinating the twins’ clothing as cute but annoying. She writes the twins are lacking individuality despite being fraternal and that while Aemma is shining as bright as a star thanks to mother, the brightest star is always the first to burn out.” Aegon shook his head as he read over Helaena’s shoulder.
“How do you know the writer is a she?” the five and ten year old prince asked his eldest brother.
“I can recognize a woman by her writing, my dear little brother.” The twenty-year old prince said so confidently Daeron found himself believing him.
“Issue number ten, she calls herself a bitch.” Helaena answered not taking her eyes off her the paper while eating a strawberry from mother’s untouched plate.
“Something must be done about her, whoever she is.” Mother comes into the dining room wearing ---for the first time in Daeron’s memory--- something other than a shade of green.
None of his siblings agree with her, having fallen to the fad of enjoying the concept of free speech.
“If you allow me, mother, I can find this madwoman for you.” Daeron feels himself swell with confidence at her approving smile.
“Oh, trust me, once you find her you won’t be able to let her go, my sweet summer child.” Helaena giggles with her nonsense throwing him off so badly he gets tongue-tied when Aemond tells him it wasn’t worth entering society so early.
#aemma velaryon#aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc#shock and delight fic#aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader#aemond targaryen x oc#daeron targaryen x rhaena targaryen#ewan mitchell
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A Weekend at Dieter's
(Dieter x horror loving female)
Summary: you spend your first weekend at Dieters place
Warnings: Dieter is an adorable chaotic puppy, saucy suggestions, lots of fluffy goodness
I actually found a place in Sherman Oaks to act as inspiration! Check it out here and here
Also check out my masterlist here
Friday afternoon:
Dieter Bravo was excited. He was rarely excited about anything, but he was excited about this: you were going to be spending the weekend at his place for the first time.
You hadn’t seen each other for almost two weeks and Dieter was missing you terribly. You were lucky to be having an easy Friday, so you’d be heading over after work and picking up supplies along the way, suspecting that his kitchen wasn’t that well equipped. And you were right.
Dieter bought the mid-century bungalow after his first big role. He bought the place because it was quiet and out of the way of any nosey and noisy neighbours, plus it had a spectacular view.
He furnished it like a typical bachelor pad, only ever living on his bed or couch. It was only him living here, so why bother?
It wasn’t until he got his first Oscar nomination did people take an interest in him. A high-end home-style magazine was wanting to do an article about him and his dwelling. They sent people in to tidy the place up and furnish it like a celebrity display home. Years later, it was still a display home as nobody asked for any of the stuff back. Probably, he never answered his phone.
He spent the entire day cleaning which meant moving all his random stuff into what’s supposed to be the spare room but became his room of randomness. He then cleaned away all the dust that had accumulated on the untouched furniture. Then he had a nap on his now decluttered couch.
Now, the hour of your arrival was approaching. Dieter was perched on a chair by the front window, perking up whenever he thought he saw your car, but then deflating when it wasn’t.
Finally, you were here. Dieter bounded out of the house like an excited puppy that forgot how big its feet were and wrapped himself around you.
“Hi”
You muffled back a reply.
He finally unwrapped himself from you and was ready to drag you inside.
“Dieter, my stuff…”
He bounded back over to your car, hastily grabbed everything that was inside your opened boot of the car and bounded into the house. After closing the boot and getting the rest of the stuff from your passenger side, you followed your obviously excited boyfriend inside.
For a man who dressed like a homeless man, he had surprisingly good taste. It looked exactly like the magazine article Debbie showed you. It was clean but there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It didn’t exactly feel like Dieter.
“Okay quick tour: living room, kitchen, now let me show you the bedroom…”
He had a firm grip of your hand and started to lead you there, but you were busy looking at the rest of the place.
“Oh wow, a fireplace!” you were looking at the living room.
“There’s also one in the bedroom if you wanted to…”
But you were already heading to the door that led outside.
“What’s outside?”
He seemed frustrated that you seemed to be more interested in actually seeing the place, it can all be done later.
“It’s a pool” he mumbled out.
“It’s a lovely view!”
He was already looking at a lovely view. He was drooling at the thought of having you on every clean surface at least once, twice if it was comfortable. But you seemed to be too distracted with practical things like looking at the place.
“What’s that?” you were pointing at a small shed off to the side of the pool.
“It’s a guest house which is now my studio. Can we…?”
But you’d already headed over there, so now he had to show you. He grumpily opened the door to show you the artwork on display.
“These are so good!” you were looking at the pieces in fascination.
“If you want to pose for one, we could go to the bedroom and…”
“You’re so talented” then you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as you headed out the door and back into the house. He followed in horny hopefulness.
“You know we haven’t looked at the bedroom yet…”
“I need to get to the kitchen first.”
Well, if you wanted the first place to be the kitchen, he wasn’t going to complain. But you seemed preoccupied with the supplies you brought that Dieter didn’t quite remember bringing in in his excitement. You ignored his horny pout as you were looking through drawers and cupboards and putting things away in his almost empty fridge.
“Honey cakes?”
“Yes, Dieter?”
“What are you doing?”
You smirked as you knew he was looking at you wish those puppy dog eyes which you happened to be immune to.
“I’m stocking up the kitchen.”
“Why?”
“Because I suspected there would be nothing in this kitchen and I can’t survive the weekend on snacks alone.”
He sidled up to you. “I’m a snack. You can have as much of me as you want.”
You patted him on the chest, “I know you are. But, if you’re planning what I think you’re planning, then we’ll need sustenance. I want to make sure you eat well.”
“I know what I’ll be eating first.”
At this, he picked you up, flung you over his broad shoulder and marched towards the bedroom.
You could make dinner later.
Sunday morning:
Dieter snorted slightly as the sunlight streamed through his eyelids. He patted around the bed, not feeling your lovely soft body. He finally opened his eyes, finding you gone, then looked under the bed covers hoping you were hiding but then still gone.
He gave a whine only a sad puppy would make, and he slunk out of bed to try and find you.
His face brightened as soon as he saw you in the kitchen and immediately bounded over and wrapped himself around you.
“Morning Dieter”
He mumbled a reply to the back of your neck. “You weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry, I’m making breakfast.”
“You’re always sensible.”
“Someone has to be.”
He remained hugging you for a while longer.
“Stay with me.”
“Tonight? I can’t, I have work tomorrow.”
“I mean forever.”
You turned around so you could look at him in the face. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
He nodded, looking completely serious.
“I spend one weekend with you and now you want me to live with you?”
“Yup”
“But what about my place? My lease isn’t up yet.”
“I’ll pay the deposit or whatsit.”
You looked him in the eye, “Are you serious?”
He held your face in his soft hands. “I have never been more serious about anything in my life.”
Your eyes filled with tears as you nodded, “Okay, let’s do it!”
He smiled even more than he could and hugged you with as much love as he could with all the happiness he was feeling.
“Now, can you please put some clothes on?”
#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#the bubble netflix#the bubble#dieter bravo fanfic#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter fanfic#dieter x reader#dieter bravo#love of horror fanfic#love of horror#dieter x honey cakes
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