#that's all kinds of embarrassing right there
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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.
Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.
If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.
The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.
Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.
But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.
It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.
Almost every senior.
It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.
But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.
He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.
It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.
He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.
But actually sitting there is his own choice.
He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.
Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.
So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.
“Wanna sign?”
Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.
“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.
Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.
Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.
Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.
“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”
Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.
A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.
And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.
The bell rings.
Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.
Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.
But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—
“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.
It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.
Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.
“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”
Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.
Good luck, Steve.
—Eddie
Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.
Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.
And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.
He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it all together, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.
#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda#pre steddie#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
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mischievous streak | neuvilette
just another day of you pining over neuvilette and poor wriothesley has to hear all about it. (dw neuvilette makes an appearance!!)
fluff. crack. this one is so unserious.
0.7k words
“and when he said ‘oratrice oratrice mecanique d'analyse’ did you hear it, wrio?” you swooned, another day of fanning over the iudex of fountaine to your best friend, wriothesley.
“did you?” the duke replied increduosly, as if not really getting the reason why that was the part you’re fawning over. “oh and when he declared ‘guilty’ verdict with such conviction and charisma to that person, i wished that was me.” you went on, the conversation was most definitely one-sided.
“...you wished that you’re in a court and getting a ‘guilty’ verdict?” he blinked, not knowing how to react when the things you’re saying gets more insane as each day passed. “well not really, but i am certainly guilty. guilty for wanting to climb him like a-“
wriothesley cut you off with an exaggerated cough.
“you finish that sentence and i’m sending you to the authorities.” you crossed your arm, “you’re the authorities.” he sighed, “yes and i’m not above putting cuffs on you and throw you to one of the cell.”
you gasped, “you wouldn’t. you’d put me in jail because of love?”
“insanity is what you are, (y/n). seriously, just talk to him.” he picked up his cup of tea wanting to take another sip. “and what do i say, that i’ve been in love with him since forever and that i’d give him a limb in exchange for a date?”
“sure. or, you could say you want to get to know him a little better, and ask him out for some lunch?” he said, his pen not stopping on checking the piling documents on his table. “but that’s like super obvious!” you retorted.
“and saying you’d give him one of your limb isn’t...?” he gave you a side-eye before getting back to his paper. “hmm, fair point.” you tapped your chin with your finger. “but he doesn’t seem like the type who’d just go out with anyone, no? i don’t think i’ve ever seen him with someone,” you claimed, thinking back to all the times you passed him accidentally by remembering his schedules.
“you’re right, but i don’t think that’s by his choice though. i think some people just got really intimidated by the idea of casually hanging out with the iudex of fountaine.” he shrugged. “what?! that’s not fair, even though he’s really kind hearted?”
the man in front of you gave you a mocking smile. “yeah, and you’d know hm? since you hang out with him so much,” he teased. “i don’t like you, you’re attacking me for no reason.” you grumbled. wriothesley just chuckled good naturedly before you continued.
“gosh but seriously, he should have someone by his side, don’t you think? someone’s who’s supportive, who will stand by him no matter what. you know, someone like me? i would treat him so good. i would make him food all day, draw him a bubble bath-“
a cough cut you off, you’d think it’s wriothesley and his unwillingness to hear your sincerity about your feelings towards neuvilette, but when you see that his expression was just as startled, you shut your lips.
both of you turned your heads to the end of the stairs and there he is.
neuvilette.
yes, the very one you’ve been crushing on since forever, oh and did i mention you just said you’d draw him a bubble bath?
the tip of his ears was visibly rosy, as he looked like he tried so hard not to look embarrassed or even phased. “i was let in by the guard, i didn’t realize there is another guest.”
you closed your eyes, counting slowly to three because perhaps it would be able to turn back time, even just a little. wriothesley was just covering his mouth, and you’d bet the other limb you have that he’s currently trying his harderst to hold back a laugh.
this is a situation. a situation you need to diffuse fast with your quick thinking.
you turned to wriothesley. “that’s why i said duke, not only you don’t need to reduce my sentence, please don’t let me out from this jail forever. i would endanger the civilians. thank you for your time duke wriothesley, i am now going to go back to my cell.”
hearing that was just the last straw for your best friend, he laughed out loud. doubling over and all that as he clutched his stomach. after a solid two minutes of him just laughing and you facepalmed yourself, wriothesley gained his composure.
“neuvilette, meet (y/n), the all-over supervisor of the fortress of meropide.”
you glared at him before giving the long-haired man your sweetest smile.
“hello, it’s nice to finally see you down here in the flesh, monsieur neuvilette.” you nodded at him in which he replied with a slight smile. “likewise and please, just call me neuvilette.”
neuvilette gave wriothesley a document as he immediately skimmed through it. “i see, well there’s nothing here that i can give an input on better than (y/n), this is more of their expertise.” your head turned so quick as if you heard a blaring alarm. “then, i would appreciate your insight on this matter if you have the time,” neuvilette said as looked at you and there’s no way you could say no.
“of course! perhaps over lunch? it’s the right time, no?” you bounced back, now feeling excited than nervous. he chuckled at the enthusiasm as he agreed. “yes, you’re right. but perhaps you should know i’m not ready yet for someone to draw me a bubble bath after just one lunch.” he put his fist over his mouth, covering his smile. so turned out the iudex of fountaine has a mischievous streak in his personality after all.
that’s nice. not for your already beyond embarrassed state, though.
“wriothesley, just arrest me right now please.”
#genshin x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin fanfic#genshin fluff#neuvilette x reader#neuvilette x you#neuvilette fluff#wriothesley fluff
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That's My Man
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~500
Warnings: fluff
Summary: Spencer gets a haircut and you have a most pleasant reaction to it.
Square Filled: holidays (2023) for @cmbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
It’s been an entire month since you’ve seen your boyfriend but he’s back now. He spent Christmas and New Years with his mother back in Las Vegas while you stayed with your family in Virginia. You two are still so new that you haven’t had the chance to meet his family, and you weren't going to let your first meeting be the holidays.
If and when you’re going to do it, you want to do it right.
While the holidays might be over, the snow is still coming down in waves, making this a white winter. Snow is probably your favorite kind of weather because you get to create angels and snowmen and forts and anything else you want. You want to do that and go ice skating with Spencer tomorrow when the sun is out but for right now, you’re going to have a movie marathon.
He’s staying over for the entire weekend and you can’t be more excited than you are right now.
“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice comes from the front hallway. The door opens to face a solid wall fifteen feet from the door. To the left is the kitchen and to the right is the living room. “I’m here!”
You gave him a key pretty early on because you already knew he was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. It’s one of those things where you just know. You love him so much and you don’t want to waste any time with him.
“In here!” you call from the right. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the hook in front of him before closing and locking the door. He walks into the living room and you turn to greet him when a confused frown sits on your face. “Why are you wearing a beanie?”
Spencer hates hats. He doesn’t like the feel of them or how he looks in them. Why is he wearing a beanie? He hasn’t all winter.
“I don’t know. I liked how it looked on me.”
“Mmhmm.” You get up and walk over to him. “Now what’s the real reason?” He looks shy as if he’s embarrassed to tell you. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine. Just… don’t laugh, okay?”
“Okay.”
He takes off his beanie and your jaw practically drops to the floor. He messes with his hair to make it look good but you’re fixed on that the fact that he got a haircut. He doesn't have long curly hair anymore. It’s short and slightly spiked. There are longer pieces in the front but he’s cut it all off.
God fucking damn. He looks so goddamn fine.
“Please say something,” he sighs, unable to take the silence anymore.
“Oh, my God.” He lowers his head knowing you must hate it. “Look at my man!” He snaps his head up as a slight blush creeps up his neck. “Damn, you look so good! Is that Spencer Reid? My gorgeous man?”
“Okay, stop,” he smiles, blushing profusely. You jump into his arms and kiss his face all over, and he tips his head back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay!”
You pull away with a loving smile and keep your arms wrapped around his neck.
“You look very handsome.”
“Thank you,” he smiles.
Choosing you has got to be the best thing he could have ever done for himself.
x
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fiction#spencer reid fan fiction#spencer reid fan fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fluff#cm#cm fic#cm fanfiction#cm fanfic#cm fluff
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AHH UR SO RIGHT, fucking him over his bike, his pride and joy, while he gasps and moans while blubbering on how good u make him, how good it is.
AHHH him in leather too, he'd look so fine with a leather jacket bro omfg (≧▽≦) the way he'd tremble when you'd bite his neck, marking him up all from his neck to his shoulders as he tries to he quiet, embarrassed that he's feeling this good with you railing him over his precious bike
Maybe he's known as the "bad boy," the complete opposite of you,, and nobody would expect the two of you to even speak to each other,, but here the two of you are, both of you pretty much trembling from overstimulation and how good you're both feeling aahdbsksbdjs
It's such a good idea omfg ahdhshdbs ur brain is so good it's amazing
-pera
"in an open match, 【 pera 】 has invited WRIOTHESLEY to play . . .
dress for the slide
✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!wriothesley, modern au, sex against a motorcycle, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, dirty talk + teasing + lowk praise, lighthearted bickering (mid- and post-coitus), slight breeding kink, creaming, creampie, alluded aftercare .
A/N : i know it technically wasn't an invitation, but . . ye<3 + fun references of dad!wrio with sigewinne <33
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
Wriothesley is not an arrogant, prideful man. He is humble; he tips generously at restaurants, holds the door open for anybody coming up behind him, greets people—you especially—with a kind smile.
The scars marring his body, the thick leather of his jacket and pants, the spikes and chains worn like jewelry, accessories—it’s intimidating, sure, but on him, it’s hardly such.
Little children—they bound up to him, pulled as if by a magnet. It’s adorable, it’s endearing; and Wriothesley takes it all in stride, smiling that toothy grin of his and giving lollipops and candies from God-knows-where. (He’s got a pocket in his jacket just for sweets.
It’s why he always smells like sugar, beneath his frosty cologne.)
And speaking of children... Wriothesley is so good with ‘em. He holds custody over small Sigewinne, for crying out loud! She’s quite popular in school, too; while she's certainly a ball of sunshine on her own, her father certainly seals the deal for her—especially when he drops her off and picks her up in that hot ride of his:
a goddamn motorcycle.
Now, you’re not exactly an expert in the things: all you know is that it looks badass, and it makes Wriothesley all the more ruggedly handsome to you.
And, well.
It just so happens that, now, you’ve got this ruggedly handsome, sugar-frosted man all for the taking, spread out across the seat of that damn bike. He’s got his usual get-up on for when he rides—leather jacket, torn jeans, simple tee—, his hair a mussed up mess from where he took off his helmet. The helmet is resting precariously on the back seat, a support for Wriothesley’s body as you kiss him silly.
“Hah—wait, wait,” he’s pushing you back, breathless, his leather, fingerless gloves accentuating his fingertips, the short, bitten nails of his. His cheeks are tinged pink, and he looks good enough to eat—to devour.
You hum, tip your head to the side to nonverbally ask, What’s up? but Wriothesley’s twisting around just-so, just enough to grab his helmet. He passes it off to you—with, to your delight, shaking hands—, and asks, “Can you put this on the ground?” You raise a brow, taking it anyway to do as he asks, and he continues, sheepish. “I—ah, I don’t want it to fall.”
You laugh, then, corralling back up to him once the helmet’s safely deposited on the grass (and not the pavement, thank you. You’re not a monster, letting something as sexy and sleek as that helmet risk getting scratched up).
“Oh?” You lean back in, making like you’re about to kiss him again—kiss him proper, now, without worrying about the precarious balance of his beloved helmet—, but you dip down at the last second to press hot, searing kisses across his throat. “Why would it fall?” you continue, chuckling at the soft whimper that falls past his lips. “Unless you’re thinking about something naughty.”
He goes silent; the motorcycle rocks, just a little.
You pay it no mind, though. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you coo instead, lapping at the heavy thrum of his pulse. He groans, strong, leather-bound hands coming to wrap themselves around your biceps, yet he makes no other noise besides the quiet sounds of each exhale.
Soon enough—because it seems Wriothesley truly is intent on keeping it zipped—, your mouth has landed on the softest, most tender part of his neck. You hone in on it like you’re some type of mosquito blood-sucker, lips wrapping around his skin and sucking, suckling, working your tongue over it until it blooms a pretty shade of purple.
You tire quick, though, of the lack of vocal reply from your lover. “You can’t tell me you haven’t fantasized about this already,” you murmur, suckling a new mark opposite of the first one you’ve set prominently, “about me, about me fucking you jus’ like this...” You slide your hands up from his side to cup his jaw, thumbing at the subtle stubble as he looks up at you with such icy-blue irises.
You don't expect Wriothesley to nod. “I do,” he adds on, to really fluster you.
“I—ah?” You hiccup, pause, bite at the side of his neck mere inches above your first mark. “Gimme the deets.”
(It’s fun, to be immature like this.)
He huffs above you, gentle laughter shaking you from where you suckle bruise after bruise after bruise, leaving him looking like he got mauled by a bear, or whatever. (Your possessive heart soars at seeing your claim spread across his skin, where even his jacket collar can't cover.
Everybody will know he's yours.)
“Stop talkin’ like that,” he grumbles—the effect lost by the way he laughs—, “you sound like a teenager.”
“A horny teenager.”
He barks out a true laugh at that, the sound spilling into a soft moan when you suck at the slight hollow of his throat, the area oversensitive because of the scars. “You're insufferable.”
“And hard,” you murmur, rolling your hips down into him. The motorcycle creaks at your movement, but, this time, it stays still—perfectly still. (You thank Wriothesley for the care he gave his bike, going as far as to invest in a good and proper kickstand.
He definitely didn't imagine this when buying that, though.)
It's time to up the ante, then (to really test the give of the product.)
“Lemme fulfill those dirty fantasies of yours, sweet thing,” you coo, suddenly dropping the pretense of light-hearted teasing and diving right on into adopting that tone of voice you know makes Wriothesley utterly helpless in his arousal.
Yet, “Sigewinne rides on this with me—” he tries to say.
“So?” You dip down, hot breath fanning against his lips. His eyes cross to follow your descent, trained on your mouth getting closer, closer. “I’ll clean it.
“Besides,” you continue, rubbing the tips of your noses together. His own breath tickles your face. “I want you to be reminded of this. Every time you go on a ride, you’re gonna be thinking about this—about me, about the way I ruined you right here, right on your precious lil’ bike.
“You’ll always be reminded of this.”
You don't expect the way he mutters, all breathless off of nothing but the pleasant ache across his neck from the hickeys and your dirty, dirty words—it’s a simple, a quiet but gruff, “Good.”
“Good?” You tip your head to the side.
Wriothesley only huffs again, pulling you closer with the hands he's moved to your shoulders. You swear you can feel the grooves of his gloves through your own shirt. “Good,” he repeats, easy confidence dripping from his voice. (You want him to drip with something else.) “I want to remember.”
And, really, the grin you give is downright ridiculous, this love-sick, dopey thing that has no place in such a charged environment; but Wriothesley shares it with you, your own private smiles, and then he's surging forward and pulling you down to meet him in a desperate kiss, one all tongues and teeth.
“Now quit talkin’,” he drawls, licking at the roof of your mouth, “and make g-good on that promise.”
“Promise?” You chuckle, dark, a play out of Wriothesley’s own book. It doesn't fit you, really—you, the epitome of a good boy, a handsome sonuvabitch who has grandmas tripping over themselves trying to marry off their granddaughters. (“Oh, isn't he charming, sweet Cecily?”
“Grandmama, I’m a lesbian.”)
“I didn't promise you anything, Wrio,” you coo, but your mouth and hands are hardly on the same wavelength; as you tease him with your words, dripping straight sin, your hands are unbuckling the heavy metal strung across his hips, thumbing down the fly ‘til you get your fingers wedged right between his thighs. “Maybe I should have you beg, hm? Beg to be ruined right now, right here on the same bike everybody sees you ride around town in.
“Oh,” you murmur, then, an idea springing to your mind as your fingertips press to the throb of his cock even through his briefs, “isn’t that an idea?” He whimpers, the sound so soft, so—so unbecoming, if you didn't know Wriothesley the way you do. “E’rybody’s gonna see you ridin’ this, and they're not gonna have a damn clue, are they? They're not gonna know the way you spread yourself so eagerly across her pretty seats—” you tease him by calling the bike a her, knowing how peculiar Wriothesley is about personifying the thing.
He nods, hips humping desperately into your fingers. The whole time, he's making these other soft sounds, and you're taken, over and over again, by how lucky you are to have such a strong man at your mercy. “Please,” he begs. “Quit talkin’, and fuck me.”
Snickering, you bump your palm against his mons, saying, “But you love it when I tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you.”
Unable to even deny it, he groans, deep and throaty. “I do,” he acquiesces while you take away your hand and help lift him enough to shimmy down his jeans and boxers both, “but I’d love it better if you'd do more than just talk.” You leave the fabrics bunched mid thigh as you stand him up proper and spin him around, pressing him gently into the leather upholstery.
It’s quick, after that, to curl over the heft of him, to nudge your fingers back down between his bare thighs to tease at this thick cock, his throbbing cunt. He's soaked, off so little, and it's easy, too, to slide in one, two, three, working him open in soft, gentle movements that stretch him without a biting burn.
“I’m ready,” he bemoans, shimmying his hips ‘til he bumps against your own erection, tenting at your own pants. “Fuck me!” His hips move, tantalizing, teasing, and you find, unsurprisingly, that pre-cum is seeping through the fabric of your boxers.
“Fine, fine,” you murmur, pressing your fingertips against his g-spot for the first time today, the spot swollen beneath your touch. He mewls, chasing the pleasure, and you give it to him readily as you dig your cock out from your fly, barely pushing your pants down enough to rest just past your balls.
Now that your cock’s out, you slide your fingers from his wet, loose heat. (It never ceases to amaze you, how loose a cunt he gets when he's sufficiently aroused. He opens so easily for you, sopping off of nothing but some words, some foreplay.)
No matter how wet he is, though, you're still careful to further slick him up with lubricant. You dip into him just-so, just enough to slather his hole and cock both in lube. He starts, slightly, at the starkness of something cold against where he's most hot, most sensitive. “Ah.”
Grinning devilishly against the nape of his neck, nosing down the high leather collar of his jacket, you drag out your fingers, terribly slow; and, only when you're sure Wriothesley is well aware of just where your hand is, you slather your own hard cock with the mess of lube and his slick.
“Ready?”
He huffs. “I’ve been ready, babydoll.”
You laugh at that, nudging your cockhead up and into his loose hole. The resistance is hardly evident—really, his body gives so easily for you—, your cockhead popping in in that perfectly saccharine way that always makes you groan low, makes Wriothesley whimper high in his throat.
“So open for me, babydoll,” you coo—his own word against him—, one hand dropping from his hip to brace against the seat of the bike. It hasn't gotten truly unsteady yet, but you always like to err on the side of caution when your beloved is involved. (Plus, you’re really not keen on having to buy a replacement bike for him.
A year’s salary alone probably couldn't buy a bike as souped up as his, the years Wriothesley put into the thing paying off beautifully in the long run. That damn bike's been around longer than you’ve been his boyfriend.)
Your cock slips in quick, easy, smooth, sliding right in down to the hilt, where you pause to let him adjust to your size. And, like clockwork, he shuffles his hips side to side against your one-hand hold and breathes out a low, whistling breath, says, “Okay.”
With that simple word—that small phrase, really—, you’re drawing your hips out slow n’ slick, the sound frankly obscene in the quiet around you. His bike doesn't so much as creak this time, either: it’s silent but swaying in time with your thrusts, barely noticeable and not at all that important, supporting the weight of you both and the heft of your next tender thrust.
Nosing at his sweat-damp hair, you drawl, “Look’it you, sweetheart, all open n’ pliant for me on my cock. You’re takin’ it so well, pretty thing right on your pretty bike.”
“Baby—” he starts to say something else, but he gets cut off with his own moan, your thick cock budding up against his g-spot. You feel him froth around where you're balls-deep in him, and you slide your hand from hip to mons.
“Want my hand, Wrio?” you ask, fingers brushing the mess of black curls sprouting from between his thighs.
He nods vehemently, his bangs splayed across his sweaty forehead. God, if anybody walked by, drove by—they’d get an eyeful of your Wriothesley, fucked silly and hot by your cock; they’d get their heart’s content of punked-out Wriothesley, leather gloves and leather jacket spread across leather upholstery, his accessorizing chains rattling off with each thrust.
But Wriothesley is yours and yours alone; you wouldn't dare share the sight with anybody else. As such, you curl yourself further over his stretch-out, prone body, breathing hotly against and moaning against the blushing shell of his ear.
“There we go,” you murmur, taking to circling the throbbing head of his cock with a gentle finger. He mewls into the air, his head almost limp on his shoulders. “There we go.”
“F-feels good,” he moans as he tips his head into yours. “So good.”
“Yeah?” you ask, rhetoric, switching from circling to stroking him, your pointer and middle finger lightly squeezed on either side of his straining erection, moving forwards n’ backwards in gentle undulations. You swear you can feel his heartbeat in each throb of his cock, driving you to give it to him better, sweeter. “I can feel you throb for me, sweet thing: are you already that close?”
No longer trusting his voice (which is a shame, really, considering how much you love to hear those ruined syllables pass from his lips), Wriothesley can only nod, letting his head loll even further forward ‘til he’s practically curved over the seat of the bike. You follow him all the way down: you, wrapped over his curled back; and him, head pillowed on his crossed arms. A shimmer of sweat makes itself known on the sleeves of his jacket, the leather of it catching the sun. He’s devolved to helpless moans.
While he trembles beneath you, around your cock, you hone in on that perfect angle—the angle of your fingers stroking him off, the angle of your cock bumping against the spots deep in his cunt that never fail to pull Wriothesley apart. “There we go,” you repeat, your own words coming out muddled with the pleasure threatening to pull you under, instead. “‘m gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up ‘til you can’t take anymore—y-you want that, baby? Want me to breed you while you cream my cock—”
“—yes!” His voice is shot to hell, this raspy thing that’s somehow thrice as gruff as normal and equally as hot, as absolutely, resolutely ruined. “Yes, yes! Breed me, w-wanna be bred...” He tapers off with a whimper, cunt beginning to tighten up around you as his orgasm threatens to pull him under with you—no longer just apart, but wholly wrapped in you, safe and protected.
“Cum for me, then—mm—, Wrio, Wriothesley—”
He whimpers, again, and you barely catch a whisper of your own name in the intelligible mess before you’re cumming, too, your cock pulsing with each involuntary squeeze of Wriothesley around you. Even as blood rushes through your ears, though, you’re whispering sweet words—nasty words, each one making him whimper n’ whine—, your fingers—long-trained, by now—keep up the gentle strokes of his cock until he’s too sensitive to go on. You withdraw them slowly, even as you’re still pumping him full with cum, even as his cock is still helplessly twitching and cunt still milking you for all you’re worth.
Coming down from your highs, then, is a slow, drawn out thing. You stay seated to the hilt, but you tease at the way his cunt’s spread open around the base of your cock, your fingers coming back covered in opaque white. He whines and weakly kicks his leg back, but you only laugh, bringing his cum up to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. You groan—more-so for show, to get a rise out of your boyfriend—at the taste, and he seems to finally find his voice at that.
“Quit it,” he says; and, damn, did you do a number on his voice. It seems to have dropped an octave, all syrupy-slow and gruff in that way he always gets post-coitus. “‘s nasty.”
“I’m nasty?” Laughing, you nuzzle your cheek against the back of his head, cat-like in your affections. “You begged for it.”
Wriothesley groans. When he attempts to lean up, you help by wrapping your hands around his abdomen—surely leaving a patch of saliva somewhere on either his tee or jacket—and prop your chin on his shoulder... all while you’re still balls-deep.
“Hi,” you say, grinning. You can feel his eye-roll.
But he says “hi” back anyway, letting his head fall back onto your own shoulder. He tilts his face towards you and meets your gaze with a satisfied sort of smile.
“Well?” you ask. “Did I live up to your fantasies?”
He nods. “And more,” he adds; but then he’s pulling off of and away from your cock, leaving you no time to dwell on it. “I starkly remember you saying you would clean my bike.”
“I did.”
“Get to it then.”
You grumble, though, tugging him back into your with the bear hold you’ve got wrapped across his torso. “You and the bike,” you finally correct, “and you come first. C’mon.”
Whether or not you actually get to cleaning that leather upholstery, well... Wriothesley may be driving Sigewinne to school tomorrow while sitting on a barely-there, all-dried patch of his and your cum.
i got rlly carried away . . this was 3k words before i even knew it >< . . but: was this inbox from february? ye. does my pera anon still show their face? idk ! if ur still here, this is dedicated to u, honey <33 i know this may feel shallow of me, but i really do miss u guys when u disappear (；′⌒`)
#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】#ㅤ【 pera 】#i love adding in subtle stutters whenever the sub gets a bit too confident<3#reminds 'em that they're not all that (~￣³￣)~#male reader#x male reader#top reader#sub wriothesley#wriothesley smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#anddddd#sub genshin#genshin smut#genshin thirsts#since the og ask was just a thirst tbh . .#genshin x reader#genshin x you#trans nsft#also no. he did not give birth to sigewinne. she was adopted#!! the br//ding stops at the k/nk . .
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Turkish Delight
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Cory quickly realised he’d made a mistake.
He just couldn’t help it. Cory was enjoying an evening coffee at one of those small classic neighbourhood coffeehouses in Istanbul, the kind frequented mostly by aged locals, not young tourists like him. He felt and looked out of place, sure, but it was fine. Sitting at a far corner of the cosy establishment, no one bothered him and he bothered no one. It took him a little while, but Cory was just starting to feel at ease.
And then he entered. Clearly a regular, judging by the way he swaggered in and interacted with the owner and other customers. But he stood out among the others in that he wasn’t old like the rest of them; in fact, he and Cory seemed to be the only men under 40. He sat at a table at the other end of the place, placing him on Cory’s line of sight.
Cory was immediately captivated by this stranger, not fully understanding why. Maybe it was because the guy contrasted so strongly with himself. Not that Cory wasn’t attractive — of course he was — but something about the man transfixed him. “Fuck, he’s hot,” Cory thought. Maybe it was the gleaming light brown eyes to Cory’s own icy blue, or the meticulously-groomed heavy stubble the guy sported that accentuated his sharp jawline; maybe it was his athletic physique, his well-defined body betrayed by a shirt that was clearly a size too small, or maybe it was how hairy he was, the dark hair very conspicuously thickly covering his sturdy legs and arms offering a stark contrast to Cory’s blond hairs barely visible from a distance… Whatever the case, Cory just couldn’t take his eyes off that Turkish guy. He wanted him, to feel him, to taste him, and imagined all sorts of scenarios.
That’s when Cory realised: he was shamelessly ogling the man. Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the hairy hunk staring right back at him, completely emotionless. Shit. Flushed and embarrassed, Cory hurriedly paid for his coffee and left, all the while the man continuously and intently observed his every move. Just as he exited, the guy whom he mentally violated also got up to follow him.
His cheeks still ruddy and warm from the unfortunate encounter a while ago, Cory briskly made his way through the labyrinthine streets of the hilly city, desperate to return to his accommodation. The Turkish guy wasn’t too far behind him; Cory meanwhile sensed he was being pursued so he quickened his pace. In an attempt to throw him off the trail, Cory turned a corner into a quiet narrow alleyway flanked by an empty lot and vacant buildings.
Right then, a deep voice called out from behind Cory.
“Hey, you.”
Cory froze, his face drained of the redness. He stood in silence, not knowing whether to respond or run away. He was terrified and felt faint. Only the fresh cool evening maritime breeze kept him on his wobbly knees as he shuddered, half because of the chill, half because he feared what would happen next. Ultimately, after a tense while which felt like an eternity, Cory turned around to see the man approaching him. Although Cory still was scared, he weirdly felt an emergent sense of excitement as well.
Soon, Cory stood facing the Turk. A dimly-lit streetlight was the only source of illumination through which Cory could better appreciate the figure before him. He noticed how the guy was even more hirsute than he realised, with chest hair spilling over his too-tight shirt. Cory’s cock twitched.
“I saw you look earlier,” the guy drily said, maintaining intense eye contact with Cory.
“Ye… No! I mean, yeah, I was…” Cory stammered sheepishly. Fuck, why was he getting turned on all of a sudden?
“Like what you see?”
Cory gulped and nodded. His knees were about to give in when the hunk suddenly grabbed Cory by the shoulders with his hairy meaty hands and yanked him close to give him a forceful yet passionate sloppy kiss. Cory was taken aback and screamed internally, but at the same time, he liked what was happening. Wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t resist the surprising advances; he simply couldn’t resist. He reciprocated, their tongues roaming each other’s mouths. As the Turk continued to shove his tongue in him, Cory felt like putty — he’d let the guy do anything to him, he’d be happy to be used by this gorgeous hairy man in whatever way.
The man’s stubble scratched and tickled Cory’s soft skin around his lips moistened by the wet kisses. Cory felt strong itching sensations in the same area. He normally kept himself clean-shaven, mainly because he could only manage to grow some wispy hairs on his face. As the Turkish guy momentarily pulled away from the kiss though, the area around Cory’s mouth was substantially darker than it was just a minute ago, the beard growth process being accelerated. Cory ignored the itch and continued making out.
After a while of spit-heavy lip-locking, the Turk pulled down his shorts and grabbed Cory by the shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. Cory, at eye level with the guy’s cut 8-inch cock, was completely mesmerised by the sight and especially the scent; the pubes were so dense, they trapped and collected all the musky sweat and oozing precum. The smell was rather pungent but Cory didn’t mind at all. If anything, the odour had a simultaneously captivating and relaxing effect on him and he felt compelled to inhale it more.
Cory piggishly sniffed the ridiculously hairy crotch, even licking the beads of moisture off individual strands of pubes. While doing so, the hair on his temple grazed the guy’s leaking member, some of the precum sticking onto his blond hair. His hair absorbed the pre almost instantly and began to darken, the change in colour spreading from where the precum had been smeared. The hair on Cory’s scalp lost its sandy hue but retained its sheen, turning browner and darker as the pigmentation spread from the roots to the tips. His face still buried in the thick pubes, Cory felt the man jerk himself, squeezing out more pre from his throbbing cock. “Suck,” he commanded. Cory swiftly obliged.
Cory was dazed; the public setting, the man’s body and scent, his own eagerness… all that was happening was wilder than anything he’d ever dreamt of. After admiring the juicy rod bobbing up and down in front of him, Cory closed his eyes and got to work, savouring the taste of the musky cock with a faint taste of piss. He took the whole length in his mouth and down his throat, blowing to the best of his abilities. He eagerly lapped up the copious amounts of pre from the Turk’s slick pulsating member, coating his tongue.
The more he sucked and swallowed, the more hairs grew on his face. The itch intensified above and below Cory’s lips, little needle-like black hairs pushing out from his smooth skin and multiplying below his nose and on his chin. The beginnings of a luscious beard then steadily migrated outwards, short pointed hairs breaking out all over Cory’s cheeks and linking with his tapered sideburns. By now, Cory had grown a remarkable designer stubble which grew in thicker by the minute and slowly crept down his chin. At the same time, his face took on a slight tan, darkening independently of the hair growth that took over the whole lower half of his face. Cory’s jaw looked more rugged too, becoming more square and masculine.
Cory carried on blowing his new acquaintance, completely oblivious to the changes affecting him. “You like?” asked the man. “Mmhrrrgggmm,” Cory could only nod and let out a gurgled hum of approval to affirm. The Turkish guy then forcefully rammed his cock down Cory’s throat, making him gag. Just as he did, Cory’s Adam’s apple jutted out more prominently. He opened his wet eyes to look up at the hunk; as he blinked away the tears, his blue eyes lost their iciness as the colour shifted from a cold blue to a warmer mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold. With his new hazel eyes, Cory saw the guy with a smirk on his face for the first time.
Cory’s body continued to change. He felt bulkier, the clothes he wore starting to strain against the muscles growing on his formerly slim frame. He also felt so much warmer despite the breeze; he felt heat radiating all throughout his body from the pit of his stomach and was sweating profusely as a result. He also felt his whole body itching uncomfortably by now. Watching the Turk strip and bare his gloriously hairy body, Cory did the same — he certainly wasn’t as hairy as the guy. Yet. The hair growing on Cory’s face continued to travel down, prickly hairs sprouting on his neck, past his collarbones and on his chest. Cory initially only had a faint patch of barely-visible hair right at the centre of his chest, but as the hairs darkened and thickened, they fanned out towards his pits, forming whirling patterns around his nipples and covering his whole chest with stubbly black hair, like a freshly-mowed lawn. The prickly sensation migrated south to his midriff, a trail of nascent coarse hairs sprouting from his chest down to his navel and then his crotch. From there, the newly-formed treasure trail widened and began to spread outwards in all directions, hairs multiplying rapidly until Cory’s whole torso was blanketed in a field of short hair which connected his stubble and still-sparse pubes.
After a few minutes of Cory sucking, slurping and gagging on the fat Turkish cock, the guy made him stop. Cory reluctantly agreed. The guy then grabbed Cory by his wavy, shiny black hair and got him up back on his feet. Cory was in a state of utter bliss, drunk on pre and musk, drooling uncontrollably. The Turk lifted his arm, exposing his smelly pit completely covered in tangled wiry hairs. The dark hairs were so incredibly dense and tightly-spaced that Cory thought he was staring into the void. “Sniff and lick,” he told Cory. Who was Cory to say no? He stumbled forward, faceplanting right in the sweaty jungle of pit hairs. The pit musk was surely at least ten times as potent as the musk from crotch! The pungent scent was overwhelming; it burned Cory’s nostrils, and yet his cock throbbed even harder, dripping pre all over. What would have been torture felt more like heaven to Cory. He grunted as he took a deep whiff of the rank musk and licked the matted hairy mess soaking wet with sweat. It was absolutely acrid, and the sharp sourness also scalded his throat, making him cough. Cory was immobilised though, his head held in place in the Turk’s reeking hirsute pit; he let out muffled moans, struggling to breathe. Inhaling the musk and gulping down obscene quantities of rancid sweat accelerated Cory’s changes.
Cory’s body ached all over as he increased in size, growing a few inches and gaining muscle mass. His muscles pulsated and expanded; it really looked as if someone was blowing air into him. His chicken legs inflated to become sturdy trunks, with hard thighs and bulging calves. His arms too grew larger, the veins protruding, his forearms thickening along with his biceps and triceps which doubled in size. Cory’s shoulders and chest broadened, providing him with a more robust, rugged physique. His abs also became prominent, the tight muscles emerging with several popping sounds. Cory was granted a temporary reprieve from piggishly eating out the Turk’s pit, leaving him to gasp for fresh air. The guy then tugged sharply on Cory’s nipples, making him let out a simultaneous yelp and low moan. As if some mechanism had been activated, Cory’s pecs ballooned and jutted out forward, his nipples looking thicker, longer and juicier than the goose-pimple ones he had before. Along with his pecs, his ass also expanded; what was once fairly flat and sad-looking was now globular, the firm cheeks jiggling with every move.
Cory’s puppeteer shoved Cory back into his other, equally hairy and musky pit. With his face buried in the nasty armpit, Cory panted and grunted as the intoxicating scent continued to work its magic. Cory’s brows became wider and bushier. The stubble on his face grew darker and thicker, the hairs coarsening and lengthening as well as multiplying in greater numbers. Starting from under his nose, more hairs poked out to give him a moustache which covered his whole upper lip. The hairs on his chin grew out in all directions, growing unruly and tangling up as Cory rubbed his face in the Turk’s manly pit. His cheeks underwent the same treatment, thick beard hairs pushing out from the follicles and cascading down, following Cory’s rugged jawline and covering the entire area of his face below his nose, the new bushy growth connecting with the moustache and the hairs below his lips. The growth continued to give Cory an incredibly thick medium-length beard that he’d only ever dreamt of having, now coated with a layer of musky sweat and Cory’s own saliva owing to his ravenous worshipping of the Turkish man’s pits. The man held Cory firmly in place, as if to cure the scent onto him.
This second explosion of hair travelled down Cory’s heaving body. Where the first wave of hair growth resulted in hairs which looked trimmed, the wiry, curly growth this time gave him a natural look, the hirsuteness of a man who had never shaved in his life, possibly unable to, due to how densely and much the hair grew. Coarse hairs burrowed their way out of Cory’s shoulders, leaving a forest of curly fur surrounding his neck, and flowed down his swollen upper arms and to his forearms, forming whirls and wave-like patterns, the wild, dense growth of black hair obscuring the view of the skin underneath — his arms looked as if they were wrapped in steel wool. Cory’s hands cracked and popped as they grew meatier and burlier, his fingers rough and calloused and speckled with thick hairs, giving him an almost beastly appearance.
The rapid growth of hair continued unabated, Cory feeling an intense itch under his arms. Soon, dark pinpricks appeared in his shaven pits, increasing exponentially. From those black dots, long wiry hairs shot out, growing thicker and longer, seemingly watered and fed by the sweat that had accumulated in his pits all this time. Radiating from the centre of the pits, the hairs blanketed a larger area, connecting with the hairs on Cory’s chest. Much like the Turk’s pits, Cory’s pit hair grew unwieldy and matted, the strands twisted and twirled from both the growth and the dampness. The moisture trapped under the massive tufts of pit hair emanated a smell. Indeed, accompanying the growing hairs was a stink, the same kind of rank smell that Cory had been inhaling for some time now, which grew increasingly more powerful as the fur grew in. Cory’s chest hair also began to lengthen at the same time, the hairs coiling out and curling and bunching up. Any remaining empty space was filled with thick wiry hair springing out in rapid succession. The amount of hair was grotesque; the eruption of wiry black hairs created a rug of fur on Cory’s toned body, completely enveloping his torso such that his pecs and abs were hardly visible at all, only his engorged nipples barely poking out from the dense field of hair.
Together with the massive hair growth and coupled with the increased pigmentation in his hairs, the light tan which had developed on his face also migrated down. Cory’s pale complexion on his face was already completely replaced by a natural tan, a light sun-kissed brown. The colour seeped down his neck, his back, his shoulders, like someone had dumped a bucket of oil on Cory. The dim orange streetlight made his tan appear darker, what little bits of skin peeking out through the dense hair glistening with the light reflecting off the sweat. Soon, all of Cory’s skin was a luscious earthy tone, not that much of it was visible under all the fur carpeting his whole body.
Cory’s raunchy pit sweat guzzling was interrupted when the Turk made him turn around and stand facing the wall of the vacant building. “Ass out,” the guy ordered. Cory immediately obeyed, panting like a dog that’s had too much sun. He was excited by the prospect of getting railed by this hot Turkish hunk, not having realised all the changes that affected him. Beads of precum dribbled out of Cory’s aching cock, which in the meantime had also darkened to match the rest of his complexion. His balls, larger than before, also churned. Cory felt the Turk holding him from behind, grinding his wet slick cock against Cory’s ass crack filling with hair. “Ready?” asked the man. “Fuck yes,” Cory responded. The guy spat right onto Cory’s tight puckering hole. Wiry black hairs blossomed around the pink ring, spreading out alongside the hairs growing on his crack. The light dusting of hair on his bouncy glutes was swiftly overtaken by curly dark hairs.
The Turk slowly inserted his cock lubed up with Cory’s saliva and his own precum into Cory’s inviting hairy hole, making Cory emit low moans and animalistic grunts sounding deeper than the previous ones. The man thrust in and out of Cory in a rhythmic fashion, Cory’s hole wrapping around his cock, basically milking him of his pre. With every thrust and pound and depositing of the Turkish guy’s precum in him, Cory changed further. His furry mounds ballooned even more. Pound. Fuzz grew in from the area of his coccyx and crept up the entire length of his spine, connecting with the thick curly hairs on his shoulders. Pound. The same fuzz then fanned out from the backbone, coating the lower back and colonising the previously hairless area of the shoulder blades. Pound. The wispy hairs on his whole back turned darker, growing longer and thicker, thousands of individual strands unfurling as they burrowed out of Cory’s smooth skin with great strength, leaving him with an impenetrable pelt of fur on his back. Pound. The wiry hairs erupted in greater quantities on his legs and snaked down, growing all over and wrapping around his thighs and calves and shins. Pound. The midnight black hairs on Cory’s legs thickened considerably that they were now visible from a distance, in stark contrast to before when he still had barely-visible light hairs against his pale white skin.
The pounding increased in speed, the Turk’s hairy low-hanging golf ball-sized balls slamming and smacking sonorously against Cory’s voluptuous hairy ass, also making his balls increase in size to those of tennis balls. Each frenzied slap caused Cory’s bush to fill in and spread beyond its confines at the base of his penis. He had previously kept his crotch trimmed, but that was history now; his pubes more closely resembled black fur due to how dense and tightly-packed it was. It was impossible to see the skin underneath the bush which had basically spread to the navel and also around Cory’s hips, even having crawled a little bit up his shaft. The wild, unkempt matted fur on his groin, much like the coarse tufts of hair under his arms, collected both musk and moisture, rendering it damp and especially pungent. It was only this time that Cory realised how much he reeked, with his arms outstretched to prop himself against the wall as he was fucked by his dream man. He didn’t care that he stunk; no, it turned him on, even. His dick responded accordingly, pulsating painfully — as the Turkish guy continued to thrust rigorously, Cory’s leaking cock grew larger incrementally, as did his balls which were engulfed in wiry hairs, and Cory produced more and more pre which trickled down his shaft and onto his extremely tangled mess of a bush, stinking it up even more.
Very little of Cory as he once was at the coffeehouse remained. At this point, he resembled an extremely hairy, beefy Turkish man, handsome and masculine, oozing testosterone out of every pore, blessed with the perfect manly genes such that luscious fur carpeted his body front and back, head to toe. After a few more thrusts and plunging and poking, the Turk erupted with one drawn-out growl and heavy panting and flooded Cory’s insides with his hot, sticky seed, depositing load after load in him. On Cory’s part, he too was close to cumming. As his cock reached a fully erect length of at least 9 inches, his foreskin retracted down his pulsing shaft and vanished altogether, leaving him with a newly-cut slab of meat. Cory blasted — hands-free — at the same time as the other Turk, leaving a puddle of splooge on the ground and painting a fair bit of the wall he propped himself up against. As he came, so came out the last vestiges of his former whiteness, his balls now filling and churning with Turkish cum.
The guy pulled out of Cory with a shlorp, cum dribbling out of Cory’s manhandled hairy hole and clinging onto the thick curly hairs on Cory’s ass and legs. Both men were breathing heavily, completely spent. They momentarily stood in silence punctuated by the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional evening breeze. The other Turkish man, now slightly smaller in build than Cory, pulled Cory close for a kiss, gently and tenderly this time, not minding the pre and drool that had stuck and dried onto Cory’s majestic bushy beard.
“What’s your name?” the guy asked, thumbing Cory’s still-hard protruding nipples. Cory opened his mouth to respond but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he didn’t remember his name — what was his name? What a strange thing to forget! He knew it started with a C… no! It wasn’t a C, silly him. It started with a K, of course, and there was an R in there. K… Kor…? Ker…
“Kerem,” he finally answered. Yes, Kerem; that was his name, the name that he’d obviously had all his life. He’d always lived in Istanbul, hadn’t he? He liked the sea and the hills, his native culture, and the men, especially the men — those hirsute and masculine like him, of course — how happy is he who calls himself a Turk!
“I’m Semih,” said the other man who had followed Kerem all the way from the coffeehouse in the hopes of having fun with him. He certainly did get lucky, even out in public like this. “Evimde bir kez daha?”
“Peki, kanka.” Kerem was so ready for round two with Semih.
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Hi all, decided to upload something original for a change. Kudos to @hairyjocktf for the encouragement!
#male transformation#male tf#race change#racial change#turkish tf#hair growth#hairy tf#reality change#musk tf#my writing
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Oml I love your writing, I just binged all the Sam fics! I saw you take requests for Harvey 👀 any chance for a “confidential check up?”
Hello, dear anon!~ Thank you so much for both the compliment and request. This was my first time writing a full-blown Harvey fic - and I hope I did suffice :D
Thanks for your request, and thank you so much for your time and love! <3
ᴀ/ɴ: as I said, this is my first time writing a Harvey fic and I am still sick, so I hope it will suffice!!
PS: I hid two Easter eggs this time. >:)
PPS: maybe 2,5, one being a slight nod at @sashiavi >:))
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Harvey (SDV) x afab!reader
ᴡᴄ: 4194 words
ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: medical misconduct, unprotected sex, light nipple play, seductive reader, Harvey's a little insecure.
☾ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ☽
A secret that you'd never share? Simple and carnal, your secret was. Primitive, even. You had only made the appointment with Doctor Harvey to finally wrap the man around your finger.
You had tried it fair and square at first, you seriously had! Coming by whenever he had time, bringing him little gifts you were sure he'd like; trying to engage him in conversation.
However, Harvey always seemed so busy, so professional. Telling you to take care and stay healthy and giving you advice on how you achieve just that. Always looking out for you, always gentle in his words and behavior. And by Yoba, it made you want to break him even more.
Also, what better way was there to implement your plan than to catch the little lamb where it felt the safest and most confident? Of course, it was a little unfair, pretending you needed his help and skills to treat an injury, but then again you did. Just not in the way Harvey would expect. He had loads of chances to get the hint, but nothing had worked. Not even when you had fished out the shortest skirt possible out of your closet and wore it with a top that left barely anything to one's imagination, accidentally falling on your knees right in front of Harvey, showing off those lace panties of yours. No, that hadn't worked either. Harvey had let out a gasp that made you believe you had finally done something to him, just to rush to your side and ask if you were okay. If you needed help, if you were dizzy. Fuck did you want to cry out that you were dizzy for him, his touch. Instead, you gave him a sweet smile, fluttering your lashes at him as you told him no, you were fine. But thank you so much, Harvey!
You had scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the farm with your head hanging, and that was the point you decided it would probably need to be all or nothing.
“So, what brings you here today? Maru only noted that you requested to see me. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?” Harvey asked, scooting closer on his rolling chair. You were already propped up on the table, smiling sweetly at Harvey.
You had picked out an excellent outfit for the day, if you were allowed to say so. A blouse that was easy to open up and discard, and a skirt that seemed modest enough yet was nothing but of the mere purpose of covering up your lack of panties. And you were hurting. Terribly so, even. For him.
“Nono, Doc. I just, you know. I've been feeling some kind of way. Under the weather, you might say.” You leaned forward a bit now, running your fingers through your hair before twirling a strand around your finger. You were met with a pair of green-brown eyes, so full of consideration and empathy. It made you want to just sit on his face and make him spill all of his care onto your sweet pussy until you could feel it in every part of your body.
“I see! And how does that show? Do you have a headache? Do you feel more tired than usual?”
So sweet and caring, Doctor Harvey. Too cute to not bite.
You let out a sigh as if you were contemplating, biting around on your lower lip. “No, that's not it. I don't know how to describe it, it's…embarrassing.”
The doctor looked up at you again, putting away his notepad now. He gave you a sweet, genuine smile. A hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe, confidential space; nothing will leave these walls.”
Go on, little lamb. Step right into the trap.
You leaned back a bit, pushing out your chest now. “Well, it's my chest. It's been so…so tender lately.”
A hum. That's all you got. A hum. Or so you thought. Because if you looked closely, you could see more. His moustache was twitching as his eyes flickered down to your breasts. Harvey was a professional, though. He quickly cleared his throat, nodding at you.
“Alright, I will glad- I would be happy- let's take a look, shall we?”
It took a lot from you to not break out in a grin; having the man break out in a stutter like that? It definitely was a step forward.
“Yes, please.” You needed to pretend to be innocent now - you didn't want to scare him away, after all.
Your fingers were quick to unbutton your shirt and your upper body was already bare before the doctor could even properly turn back to you. For a moment, his motions seemingly stuttered to a halt, his hands still clasped together from rubbing the disinfectant on them.
His moustache twitched again as he approached you, taking a seat on the chair again.
“Alright, my hands might be a little cold from the disinfectant, but I should be quick.”
Fuck, you hoped that he wouldn't be. You gave him a nod and what you hoped to be a shy smile, pushing your chest towards him a little.
And then, finally…Fucking finally you felt tender fingers on the soft skin of your breasts. It left you breathless for a moment, helpless as he traced the curves of your tits so expertly.
The moan falling from your lips really wasn't an accident, but Harvey, dear sweet Harvey, decided to let you off the hook. Ever the gentleman, wasn't he?
“Did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes flickering up to you, gently squeezing the flesh again. This time you looked straight into his eyes as you moaned, licking your lips. “No, it just…tingles,” you grinned, eyes following Harvey's dropping hands with dismay.
“Well, I did not find any lumps or irritations that could explain the tenderness. Did any lifestyle changes happen? Or perhaps a new medication?”
Pretending to be thinking, you swung your legs back and forth. One of your feet got in contact with his shin, slowly tracing upwards only to slide down again.
The man’s face was stoic, eyes trained on your face with a stern look.
Yet again, the twitching of his moustache betrayed him.
The thought that you hadn't responded yet reeled you in a little: “No…Well. Maybe kind of? You know…I've been having, well. Thoughts about someone. Thoughts about them touching me, wanting me,” you began, your foot wandering to his knee.
“Could that be it?”
A blush had spread on his cheeks now, and Yoba did you love to see it. He picked up the notepad and quickly jotted something down, then nodded.
“I assume that could be it-”
“And what do I do about it, Doctor? It hurts, after all.”
Immediately, his attention is back on you completely. “Hurts? Where?”
A vague pointing to your body made Harvey's hand reach out, touching your stomach. “Here?”
You shook your head, letting your foot wander down again. “Lower.”
His brows furrowed now and he let his hand slide towards your abdomen. “Here? Are they cramps?”
Again, you shook your head.
“Lower.”
He was hesitating now, looking up at you with an uncertainty you had never seen before, and it felt like another small victory.
“Could you…uh. Point me to where it hurts?”
Click - the trap was snapping shut.
It didn't need many words; you opened up your legs without an ounce of hesitation, revealing your cunt, all wet and ready for the doctor. “There.”
Harvey swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. Words that wouldn't have him lose his license. It wasn't like he hadn't seen genitals before - much more than one would expect from a small town like this - and he had never been affected. So why was his throat dry now? Why was his heart pounding like this?
“It's getting like this whenever I see handsome men like you, what could that be?”
“It’s getting like…what?” by now he was thankful that he was able to get some words out with his head feeling as light as it did right now.
“I dunno…wet?”
His eyes went straight back to your pussy, staring at it. You were wet. And you looked delicious. But he was a doctor. A professional. He had done so much to be where he was right now!
“Oh! That…uh. That…it- well. It stems from attraction. It's so..so sexual intercourse can happen more easily, you see. All natural. There's no need to worry at all.”
He was pulling back, this damn professional. Even though you could see that you were getting to him. “But…isn't there a remedy?”
Harvey wanted to just sink into the ground. His head still felt light, and he could feel his pants tighten - he had been mesmerized by you ever since you had introduced yourself. And of course, he had noticed your attempts to catch his attention - he wasn't stupid, after all. Yet Harvey had promised himself. Promised himself to not get too involved anymore. And now you were here. Exposed, and seemingly ready for him. So close but- he had to be strong. Be a doctor.
“Well, for one…You could do some self-care. Masturbation is quite healthy for the human body and mind.”
Like hell he'd recommend you to have sex with someone else, not even someone like him could be so professional. You called him handsome after all, for crying out loud!
“Oh! And…how does that work?”
Your patience was running thin now, but you felt like you were so close to having him where you wanted him, despite him being so oblivious. His face was motionless now as he stared at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He was obviously looking for words.
“I-”
“Come on, Doctor Harvey. You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” You cooed, interrupting the clouding thoughts before they could really rain on him.
“But- that is the thing. I am your Doctor-”
You didn't answer him right away, your hand wandering to your clit first, giving it a gentle flick.
“And what if you prescribed yourself to be my remedy? I think you're the only thing that can help me,” you moaned.
The groan coming from his direction certainly wasn't professional anymore. A hand, now warmer than before, settled on your thigh. “You said it hurts here?”
Before you could look where his finger was pointing you could feel the pad of it trace through your wet folds.
“Exactly,” you breathed, spreading your legs a little further.
“I can't see much,” he murmured, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “I'd need to clean you up first before I run some more tests...is that okay with you?”
The bobbing of your head was enough for Harvey to finally break down.
He leaned forward faster than he would have guessed from himself, his fingers spreading your folds, and by Yoba, you were wet. All the more reason to examine you closely, wasn’t it? Keeping you healthy wasn’t bad, after all. It was his job. And if that was what it took, he would oblige – for the sake of medicine, of course. Not because of his throbbing cock and the desperate need to taste you on his tongue; not because he was salivating from the thought alone.
His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth, a sliver of hesitation lingering in the air. He could see your hole contract when you thought him close, he could see the shivers making the muscles of your thighs twitch whenever his hot breath hit the wetness of your cunt, and yet…wasn’t this wrong? Had he somehow taken advantage of you?
“Harvey, fuck, please?” A small rock of your hips followed your words. Urging him closer. He could smell you now, and holy life, did you smell good. Lured him right into taking a deep whiff, as if he didn’t know he would get drunk on you immediately. Yet he did know and he willingly took another deep inhale. The impatient whine above him caused his eyes to flicker up to your face. You looked down at him, your lower lip tugged between your sets of pearly whites. No words needed to be spoken, and yet Harvey still followed your order.
His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth; eyes glued to your face. He wanted to see how you would react to that first contact, wanted to see if you felt as hot as he did right now. His pants were really straining against his aching erection, his zipper pressing against the shaft through his boxers. He was pretty sure those were wet too by now, with all the pre-cum he had been leaking. He finally pressed the muscle against your entrance, licking a flat, thick line upwards. And he took his time doing it; so much so that it had your toes curl and your thighs close in around his head. The brunet was quick to react, though, one hand holding your leg open, while the other busied itself with spreading open your pussy for his hungry tongue. His licking had become faster now, but precise enough to avoid your clit. He was, after all, only cleaning you up now, wasn’t he? Still, that didn’t mean that his hot tongue licking up whatever you gave him didn’t make you moan for him. How long had you been thinking about this? Having Harvey between your legs, in any which way he would have offered? Too long. And now he finally had his head buried between your thighs, licking and sucking you up like a starved man offered a meal after ages of going hungry. His tongue licked up and down, from one side to the other, but he still ignored your hardening clit with apparently the same professionalism he had ignored your advances before.
He gave your lips a light suck, then sunk his tongue deep inside of you. A groan left his glistening lips, eyes shut tight while he lapped at your walls eagerly, trying to get as much of you as possible into his mouth. “Harvey, oh fuck, right there,” you breathed, hand flying in his hair to hold onto the strands between your fingers tightly, giving a tug that was harder than you had intended it to be. But that only seemed to spur the male on more, his face burying deeper, tongue and lips working in unison now. And by Yoba, he had never tasted anything this good; so sweet, so…you; and you were addictive.
Your hips bucked upwards for him, if to grant him easier access or just because you couldn’t keep them down anymore, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care, either. Harvey’s moustache rubbed against you in a way that made your head spin, his lips sucking on you while he circled his tongue within you made your whole body tense. Even when pussy-drunk he seemed incredibly precise, knowing just where to brush past, when to suck and when to lick.
You weren’t able to do much anymore, just hold onto his hair and wait for the sweet, sweet release to wash over you and in turn, Harvey’s tongue.
It was close; you could feel it in the ripple down your spine, in the way you clenched around him, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, too. You were dangerously close to the edge, and one well-placed flick would push you over. You were ready for it; the string of moans that left your lips were dirty, raw, carrying all the words you couldn’t form anymore.
You awaited the feeling of your orgasm crashing over you, not to suddenly feel empty and cold after being engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. But Harvey was standing now, his face wet and his glasses fogged up from the heat that had reached the cool surface, and yet you knew that he was staring right at you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t trust your vocal cords just yet, so all you did was letting out a confused hum, to which the brunet in front of you smiled.
“You are all clean now- I believe you are ready for further tests.”
Fuck, you were. More than that. By now, you really felt an ache in your body, and the only remedy was there, right in front of you, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking, enough so for you to lean forward, popping the button open for him. The doctor let out an awkward laugh, moustache twitching from the embarrassed rumble that went through him. “Sorry,” he whispered but quickly switched gears when you pressed a kiss to his lips. The taste of you mixed with his spit made you whimper, the appetite for him only growing within you. You wanted to help him tug down his boxers as well, but instead of fabric, you were met with the soft skin that had been hidden beneath until now. Your throat went dry; you just had to pull away and look at him. He was big, tip coated in a layer of pre-cum, his shaft girthy.
“Harvey, please,” you stammered, leaning back on the table so he could lean over you more easily.
The brunet followed you like a well-behaved lamb, leaning in again to kiss you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, slowly pushing forward. The stretch the head of his penis caused made your eyes roll back, excitement for the rest of his girth stretching you bubbling inside of you.
Harvey, ever the gentleman, took it slow. Rutting inside of you, centimetre after centimetre, eyes fixed on your face for any signs of pain and discomfort. He brushed your hair to the side to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him, and holy Yoba, did he ever feel anything like this before?
You had to admit, at first, the stretch did hurt a little, but with both him being so tender with you, so gentle, the pain quickly turned into a cloud of lust and despair. You wanted him, and you weren’t afraid to show him anymore. “Harvey, oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”
A twitch, and then a shove that made him bottom out inside of you. A groan from him bled into the moan that tore from you, but that didn’t make Harvey pause. Not anymore.
His thrusts were shaky, unsure at first. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? His eyes searched yours as if to ask for approval, as if to make sure he was doing this right, and it made your heart swell within your chest.
“You are so good to me, Harv,” you whispered, shamelessly letting your moans slip for him. The brunet’s eyes lit up, and he pushed his hips forward faster, more eagerly now.
Smiling to yourself, you let your head lull back. Harvey’s dick felt so good within you, filling you out with clumsy thrusts that steadied the more confidence he felt. Your back arched in as the brunet found a rhythm that seemingly fitted both your tastes; fast strokes that reached deep within you. The little grunts that left his slightly swollen hips only added fuel to the fire, only made you want him more.
Your legs hooked around his soft hips as he fucked into you with quick thrusts, body working with him to get him to go harder, more ruthless. Lucky for you, Harvey was a quick learner. Dick now fucking into you harder, red tip still pounding as deep as he could go.
The man’s face was a mix of pleasure and astonishment as if he wasn’t able to believe this was really happening to him. You just felt so damn good around him, walls clinging to his hot cock, sucking him off with each thrust. If he had a say in it, he would have never left your sweet pussy again, keeping his dick buried inside of you, thrusting into you whenever he deemed fit.
The moans and whines of his name that filled the examination room made his vision blur; his balls incredibly tight all of a sudden.
“Harveeey,” you gasped out, your hand reaching for his in an attempt to hold onto something again, fingers gently brushing along his knuckles before intertwining. The brunet above you was panting now, his hips never stilling as he fucked into you. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on your face anymore; they had fallen onto your tits that were bouncing oh so nicely for him with each of his thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself; it was too tempting – his head dipped down, teeth catching one of your pretty pink nipples, nibbling on it just to suck it into his mouth moments later.
You could feel the feeling start to grow inside of you again, your orgasm approaching you, even though you didn’t want this to stop yet. You didn’t want this to end just now, now that he was filling you up so perfectly, cock sliding against your squishy walls with such ease; you didn’t want his balls slapping against your wet cunt to stop just yet, you wanted, no, needed, more.
As if hearing your thoughts, Harvey picked up his pace just a little more, his mouth switching to the other nipple to pay it the same amount of attention. The squelching sound of the wetness between your legs was to die for, just like the feeling of his orgasm hot in his veins.
You just felt so deliciously good, better than any neat whiskey ever could have, and it made him go crazy. He felt hot, he felt like he was just about close enough to heaven to feel it, but not quite there. The bucking of his hips grew more desperate as he chased his orgasm, going hard and deep inside of you while his mouth busied itself leaving hickeys on your bouncing tits. The insecurity from before had vanished, and the groans, the begs, the whines, the praise, all coming from you was enough to keep it away.
“Harvey, I am- fuck, I am so close-“
He would have answered, had he been able to. But he had basically gone mute, aside from the whimpers and groans, as well as high-pitched moans that dared to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he just nodded at you and did his best to pick up the pace some more. It was just so hard with you sucking around him so nicely, drooling all over his dick. So hard to focus when he could feel you shake beneath him, making his body ache for the final push.
The bite to your tit he gave you, combined with his deepest thrust yet was enough for you. You squeezed his hand tightly, your toes curling and your back arching in as finally allowed the release to flow over you. You cried out his name, your sweet, pretty cunt spasming around poor Harvey, who was, admittedly, both absolutely pussy-drunk and empty-minded.
His breathing now came in forceful, laboured pushes, and if he had ever heard a patient breathe like that, he would have sent them straight to bed and run endless tests on them. But this – this was nothing but the sheer hunger for one person.
He suddenly slammed forward once more, his back arching in as he moaned out your name loudly, penis twitching as he came inside of you, cum painting your walls white. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to not lose focus, his mouth hanging open as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs were quivering with each thrust that sent shocks up your spine from the overstimulation that slowly started to nag at you.
Panting, the brunet tried to keep himself from crashing down on top of you, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes were still hazy as they took in your fucked-out expression. You looked ruined but also completely…satisfied.
Your hand was still shaky as you reached up to let it run down his flushed cheek, a smile on your lips. “That definitely helped, Harv,” you whispered, voice slightly more hoarse than it had been that morning.
Harvey cleared his throat, and after a moment or maybe two – maybe also three, he just felt so good inside of you – pulled out of you, shaky legs carrying him over to the sink where he wettened some paper towels to clean you up.
“I am glad I was able to help.”
Disappointment settled in your stomach. Was that it? Did he just go back to his professional self like the table beneath you wasn’t drenched in your wetness and his cum?
“But I need to run a few more tests. I think home visits would be best; I’d need different surfaces and times.”
Click. Two lambs had fallen for the trap
#sdv#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley farmer#stardew valley smut#sdv fanfic#fanfic#smut#sdv harvey#sdv harvey x reader#sdv harvey x farmer#stardew valley harvey#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley x farmer#harvey x farmer
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Changbin + Choking
CW: Choking (obviously), Slight dom Changbin, praise, thigh riding
WC: 650
Thinking abt asking Changbin to choke you for the first time…
“You want me to what?”
“You know, choke me? If you’re okay with it, I mean… but I just thought it would be hot.”
“But what if I hurt you baby?” He looks up at you for a second, concern washing over his features.
“I kind of… want you to?” He looks at you with wide eyes, but you interrupt him before he can speak. “Okay well, it’s more like, really hot to think that you *could* hurt me, you know? Like you have these really big and sexy muscles, you’re really strong so you can like, hold me in place and squeeze my throat without really hurting me, but I’ll feel it, right? Like, you’re the one that has all that power over me, you’re the one in control,” you say. You know you’re rambling, but when you look up your boyfriend has a pained expression on his face.
“Mhmm,” is all he says, but it sounds more like a squeak.
“Bin… you okay?”
“Am I okay… yeah yeah yeah yeah, I’m fine!” He says all too quickly. “I’m so fine. I’m really good, actually, I’m–”
“Bin.”
He takes a deep breath and looks at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “Fine, baby. That was just so hot, I don’t know. I’m just embarrassed about how that made me feel. Why don’t you come here, yeah? And I can show you?”
He pulls you into where he’s sitting on the couch, his hands on your hips as he guides you down. As you start to straddle him he tsks, picking you up and placing you right where he wants you–His thigh.
“Wait, Bin… I want you–”
“Shh,” he interrupts. “You’re gonna be okay. Can you show me how badly you want me? Need you to get off on my thigh first.”
You hesitate for a second but when his hand wraps around your throat you gasp. Your hips start moving back and forth on his clothed thigh before you can even think further.
“Fuck, baby. Just like that. You like my muscles that much? Need you to show me how good my thigh is making you feel.”
The hand on your throat squeezes just a little bit and when you let out a delicious moan your boyfriend lets out his own breathy sigh in return. He looks just as utterly wrecked, eyes dark and lips parted and hair messed up and sticking out in the wrong places–all from the simple actions of you grinding against his thigh, your clothed clit rubbing deliciously against the material.
You get worked up way too fast until your hips sputter, losing your rhythm. Before you realize, you’re rocking back and forth at that same speed, and you realize that Changbin is pushing and pulling you onto his thigh by the grip on your throat. His grip is sturdy but not bruising, though the way he manhandles you by the most vulnerable part of your body with all of the control in the world makes your head spin. You let your body still, him now doing most of the work for you.
“Fuck, close…” you warn.
You feel him flex his thigh underneath you, the muscles contracting against your clothed core. He drags your body against the fabric even harder, the pressure building up even more.
“You look so good like this,” he breathes. “God baby, cum for me. Let me make you finish all over me so I can fuck you on my cock.”
Your thighs shake as you finish and he helps you ride out your release before he lets go of your neck. You slump forward into him, catching your breath as he cradles your head into him, stroking your hair.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay baby? Want me to choke you while you ride my cock?”
***
Masterlist Recs
#skz#skz smut#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#kpop smut#kpop x reader#changbin#seo changbin#changbin x reader#changbin stray kids#skz hard thoughts#seo changbin x reader#changbin smut#changbin imagines#changbin x you#skz drabbles
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Ill be honest I don't really understand the big deal. Your friend is within her right to have two slices. Sometimes one would like some extra blueberry tart because one deeply enjoys blueberry tart and while I think human beings owe a lot to each other I feel that judging a friend for having extra blueberry tart when no one in the restaurant is actually going hungry is a bit of an overreaction.
That's fine, we disagree! It happens. No one was going hungry but we were sitting by the entrance and kept hearing people walk in and see the desserts and go like oh great! and I didn't want these people to be disappointed. Also I think my friend would have been annoyed if she hadn't been able to have any tart because other people ordered two pieces each, but well. It's not a big deal which is why I said I felt embarrassed for being so bothered and sounding rigid about this. To me "Sometimes one would like some extra blueberry tart" is selfish when it means others won't get any at all, but I'm aware you don't really owe anything to strangers in a restaurant and no one ever died from a dessert shortage. I think it's the kind of very small no-stakes issue that might lead to disproportionate differences of opinion.
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Little Pinch
nurse!marcus pike x f!reader
she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.
wordcount | 3.3K
content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls
a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless
..........................................................................
Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed.
It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, let’s try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. It’s embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesn’t go offline again.
The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly won’t help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why can’t she be like that? Why can’t she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat.
If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadn’t responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right.
“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and that’s probably why he’s so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now she’s supposed to answer it.
“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more.
“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label.
“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.
“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesn’t seem to presently be working.
“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because he’s just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything that’s called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort.
“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”
“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.
“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”
“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself.
“Do you live around here?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.”
“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.
“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?”
“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.”
“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”
“Do you have a golden retriever?”
“What?”
“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now.
“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever.
“Great name.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?
“Alright, that’s the last one.”
“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.
“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer.
“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous and–
“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldn’t, but it kind of works.
“You feeling okay?”
“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away.
“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?”
“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“That you had to deal with that.”
“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”
“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.”
“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.”
“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while you’re at it.
“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again.
…
“Yes, this is she speaking.” This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor.
“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?”
“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs.
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.
“Marcus, right?” Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, she’s a goner.
“How have you been since we– you, well–”
“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her.
“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places.
“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”
“No?”
“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”
“I was not nervous.”
“You weren’t?”
“Nope.”
“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”
“What thing?”
“The pretty thing.”
“Yep.” Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier.
“So, you do live around here then?”
“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”
“I do.”
“Nice, nice.”
“Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Wow.”
“What? I’m making conversation.”
“You’re still not very good at it.”
“I’ll keep working on it for you.”
“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”
“What kind do you think I get?”
“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”
“Somehow I feel insulted.”
“Well.”
“You’re not even right either.”
“No? What do you get then?” He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust.
“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”
“What? It’s a classic.”
“Actually, you know what, that tracks.”
“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured.
“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”
“Yeah, we’re not bad.”
“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”
“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers.
“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?”
“I might be free on Saturday.”
“I might also be free on Saturday.”
“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”
“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that.
“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesn’t think twice about nodding again.
“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest.
“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.
“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.”
“Kinda weird, you know.”
“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”
“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”
“So, Saturday?”
“Looking forward to it, Marcus.”
#marcus pike#marcus pike fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike fic#marcus pike au#marcus pike angst#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you
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List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother
(If they did kiss though is another story)
Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3
Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.
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Last updated: April 26th, 2024
Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.
Various
572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)
JJK official fanbook
"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto.
A: Bangs."
"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover?
A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."
"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design?
A: Bangs"
One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.
The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)
Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)
Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan
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Jujutsu Kaisen 0
Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa
Gojo stating in 0 that
"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."
Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)
Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because
"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."
This sunset scene
Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]
The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation
The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name
Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime
Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines
"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."
"But to Gojo Satoru, he was ——
'————, ————'
'...ha.'
When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before.
'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.'
December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."
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Season 1
JJK Juju stroll
"Q: What kind of person is your type?"
Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."
yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀
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Season 2
Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)
THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??
They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???
Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3
Part 1 / volume 8 - 9
The intro for season 2 part 1
"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"
"In such a color as if it were a silent love"
"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"
The outro for season 2 part 1:
"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"
"It only exists here I want to touch you"
The fish in the outro
The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]
The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.
The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.
[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]
Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once
When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says
"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."
Part 2 / volume 11
This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)
Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning
Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.
"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body?
A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."
Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)
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Volume 26
The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.
Chapter 236
Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with
"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"
These lines
Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)
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There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD
If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)
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what if buck dips tommy while they're dancing and tommy loses his mind
PLEASE HE'S GONNA BE SO FLUSHED AND SHOCKED AND EMBARRASSED HE'S NOT EVEN GONNA KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIMSELF. LIKE GOD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! when is the last time tommy has been properly wooed oh my god like yeah buck is like a baby duck the first couple weeks obviously but we've SEEN boyfriend buck in action with abby and tommy isn't going to know what HIT HIM. because he resigned himself (not in a bad way) to being the one to kind of like take the lead on everything and he's fine with that because he really, really likes buck. WAY more than he expected to. and he's cute and charming and fucking adorable so whatever. but when buck gets his sea legs under him and starts wooing tommy back??? and they're dancing together at the wedding and he's being so so attentive and affectionate and flirty because his boyfriend was just a big damn hero and saved the whole thing and holy hell if he's not into that. when he kisses tommy and dips him and tommy just stares up at him with his cheeks all red because holy shit he knew evan was cute but right now he's like. he's hot and in command of his body and the situation and tommy kind of wants to eat him a little bit because now he's the one who feeling all giggly and shy and stupid and just aaaaahhhh !!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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I'm in love with the idea that Adam loves animals.
Adam and Angel are just sitting on the couch in the lobby, and Angel starts asking him about Eden and Lucifer is eavesdropping.
"You mean besides having to do shit all? Eden was great , cozy, and always smelled nice." Adam said as he pictured the garden in his mind. He could never forget it.
"You named all the animals right? Did you have a favorite?"
Adam thought about it, that was kind of a loaded question, he loved all the animals in the garden. "Shit, I don't know man. They were all pretty fucking great. Though if I had to pick....." One did come to mind and he flushed. "Nah, nevermind."
Angel sat up more and even Lucifer was intrigued. He didn't even know the answer to this. "Oh come on, now you gotta tell me. I'll be your best friend!"
"You are my best friend."
"I'll be bester?"
Adam sighed. "Fine, but you gotta promise not to fucking laugh."
"I swear!" Angel beamed.
"The little yellow pond ducks. They were one of the first in the garden and so damn cute. Then they had babies! They were so small and fluffy. I remember they all came over to me and claimed all over me. It tickled." Adam smiled fondly at the memory, that had been a wonderful day.
Lucifer remembered that day, that was also the day he fell in love with two things. Adam and ducks. Adam had been so happy and was so carefree, it looked like he belonged there in that moment.
"I remember when Luci-" Adam clamped his mouth shut.
Angel raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"
Okay, now it got embarrassing. "Lucifer came over and we started playing with the ducks together. He scooped one up and placed it on my head. The little fucker took a shit."
Angel howled with laughter holding his stomach. "Oh my fucking god, you had duck shit in your hair!?"
Adam scowled and playfully rolled his eyes. "Yeah, try washing your fucking hair before shampoo was invented asshole. Not fun. Lucifer actually had to help get it all out."
Lucifer cringed at the memory. Yes he had to get that out of Adams hair, not a fun time.
"Do you still like yellow ducks?" Angel asked.
"I do. They had them up in heaven and I fed them by the center fountain. There are no yellow ducks in Hell." Adam said, his voice taking on a sad edge. You never realize how much the little things mean until they're gone. "I'm gonna hit it. See you tomorrow?"
"Night man." Angel and Adam fist bumped and Adam walked out of the room down the hall to his.
Adam sat down on his bed and almost missed the little box in his night stand. He opened it with caution but was stunned when he saw what was inside.
A little rubber yellow duck that looked like him, hair, horns and all.
He smiled at the little duck and placed it beside his alarm clock. "Thanks Luci."
Outside his door, Lucifer listened and walked away knowing his gift made his sinner happy. "You're welcome, my Adam."
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speak nowww
Slytherin Boys as Speak Now Songs
*in perspective of their relationship with you AND their personality. and why*
here's speak now (tv ofc), 1989 is on the way; which taylor swift album should i do next?
(mattheo riddle, draco malfoy, theo nott, lorenzo berkshire)
slytherin boys masterlist nav
mattheo riddle as Better Than Revenge
best lyric(s) - "she should keep in mind there is nothing I do better than revenge" + "she underestimated just who she was stealing from"
explanation - so, as stated in ttpd version (here), mattheo has a lot of pent up frustration and anger. so he's really good at getting back at people. especially when he gets into a relationship with a partner he really cares about and they ask him not to be mean or attack people for no reason. then he has to channel all his efforts into just getting back at people who bother him. (even though sometimes bothering him is just looking at him even slightly sideways).
w/ his partner - with his partner, mattheo has absolutely no regrets or qualms about being an absolute menace to society. since he began dating them, he's been much less volatile than his normal self, but whenever people get a little too cocky and do absolutely anything at or to you, all bets are off. then mattheo feels that its necessary to step up and remind people that he's still the dark lord's son and he will be the dark lord's son if he has to.
draco malfoy as Speak Now
best lyric(s) - "don't say yes, run away now, ill meet you when you're out" + "horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you"
explanation - I feel like draco is the kind of guy who would totally 1000% crash your wedding if you were ever marrying someone other than him. (*I just read this theo fic abt him crashing readers wedding, ill try and find it and link it here*) But anyways, he would totally crash your wedding. like at first he would feel really bad for even thinking about it but then he would legit just stroll into the chapel like "you can't marry him, you're supposed to marry me" even if he like never mentioned anything about his feelings for you. he mentioned them in his way aka glaring at you slightly less intense than he does everyone else. how could you not notice that he was in love with you?
w a partner - def more silly and cute than anything, but i like to think that when you first started dating (esp if youre a gryff or a huffle) draco would make it his personal mission to embarrass the hell out of you by saying the most out of pocket things in front of like the other slytherins or just in the middle of class as loudly as possible. he just likes to see the little blush on your cheeks whenever he says something that he most definitely should not be saying out loud.
theodore nott as Electric Touch
best lyric(s) - "all I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life" + "I'm tryin hard not to look like I'm trying"
explanation - theo is that guy thats scared of commitment. (sorry to all the theo girlies me included but we gotta admit it at some point). it's not that he doesn't care about his partner, it's just that he's terrified of commitment. there's way too much that could go wrong. he learned very early on that you could do everything right, love someone completely, treat them wonderfully, and then they could just die. but bc his mother passed at such a young age he has a very distorted point of view on this because in his head, he's like but what if they just die???
w/ a partner - that being said, when theo finds that person that's like the one for him, he wants to commit so bad. and he puts all of his effort into it, like he'll call you his girlfriend, he'll spend an exorbitant amount of money on you, he'll even buy you a damn ring, but he won't let you get emotionally close to him. and it kind of freaks him out when he finds himself wanting you to know him in that way. when you finally confront him about one day and he's like, what if you just like died?? and you're just sitting there across from him like '...'
theo, wtf? i'm not just gonna like keel over one day.
after that he kind of lets you in a little and after a few months when he's sure you're not just gonna suddenly fall over, then he's completely fine and continues on like nothing ever happened. (its a little amusing in the hindsight of it all)
lorenzo berkshire as Dear John
best lyric(s) - "don't you think 19's too young to be played by your dark twisted games" + "cause you burned them out, but I took your matches before fire could catch me"
explanation - I don't think it's really talked about enough how much emotional support that enzo needs. his own family aside, he still grew up around death eaters and that surely cannot be healthy for a guy. so when he finally is an adult, i like to think that he looked into some kind of therapy option wizard, muggle, or otherwise. i think that he probably also struggled a little with the friends that he lost during the entire ordeal that he wishes he could've saved (almost like survivor's guilt)
w a partner - so when it comes to a partner, i really think that he needs someone who sees him. that's really important to him that he's with someone that he could just let go with and not have to worry about always being either grinning or stonefaced. He'd like to be able to feel his entire range of emotions without hindrance and he's only really gonna feel safe to do that with a partner.
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4.25.24
wc 960
taglist
@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess
#slytherin boys#theodore nott#slytherin#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#slytherin boys x reader#draco malfoy#lorenzo berkshire#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#enzo berkshire#enzo berkshire x reader#draco malfoy x reader
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Requested by: @kwo22
can you do one with Sakura with a s/o who just compliments him randomly at times and he gets all blushy ykk? Love ur writing for windbreaker !!!!!! <3
There are so many blushy Sakura panels in the manga. I adore all of them.
Haruka Sakura x reader
Randomly complimenting him and using pickup lines.
Even before your relationship with Haruka, you knew he was so, so, so easy to fluster. His blushing face quickly became one of your favourite features in the man. You thought he didn't like it in the beginning always yelling and awkwardly telling you not to embarrass him. Surprisingly, he didn't mind when you complimented him, even seeking out your praises whenever the possibility for one arrived.
Everyone in Bofurin was aware, that when you were near your boyfriend his face would be red most of the time. You just knew what to do to make him this way. Were you bad for using it for your entertainment? Maybe. But he loved you either way so..
"Your hair and eyes have been always bi-colour and you will always be-mine." You said to him once, while you walked to school.
"What?" He looked at you confused trying to understand what you meant.
You sighed deeply before turning to him.
"You know bi-colour, be-mine." You pointed first at his hair and then at you.
Another minute passed before his cheeks and ears burned red and he spluttered some things you couldn't understand turning away from you. You, however, laughed at his reaction and grabbed his hand before pulling him towards the school.
Haruka wasn't aware that it was the first of many pick-up lines you'd use on him just to get a reaction, you so loved.
The next one was when he'd just beat down some guys, while you were watching from the sidelines. You cheered him on throughout the fight and as the last guy fell down you bounced up to him.
"Oh wow, that last punch was something." You complimented trying to imitate your boyfriend.
He puffed out his chest his face slightly pink from the fight and, mostly, the praise. The smile on your face turned to a smirk as you brought your finger to your lips humming in thought.
"Is your dad a boxer?" You asked him your grin starting to show as you knew what you'd say next, while he wasn't aware what he got himself into.
"What no! You know well enough that-"
"Because you're a knockout!" You cut him off quickly sending a wink and finger guns in his direction.
He stared at you his face reddening but he was too stunned to speak.
"Ah, you prefer knight in shining armour more, huh?" You teased him and instantly tried to evade the light slaps he sent into your arm to make you stop.
He ran after you yelling for you to stop while you ran away laughing and arguing you would never, because you knew he secretly loved it.
Haruka knew your intentions pretty well when it came to these random compliments and pick-up lines. He thought that with time passing he would get used to them and they wouldn't have that kind of effect on him anymore. Oh how wrong he was.
Collecting Haruka from Bofurin you gave him some snacks you collected on your way. He thanked you but when he saw you looking left and right carefully, he followed your gaze before asking.
"What is it?"
"Be careful the police may be on to you." You whispered to him and he looked at you appalled.
"Why? I didn't do shit."
"For stealing my heart." You said swiftly kissing his cheek.
His face was once again bright red and a frown appeared on his face.
He just couldn't believe that instead of him handling the situations like that better it was you who got better at acting and tricking him.
"You're an idiot." He said munching on the chocolate you gave him, pretty much still flustered by you.
"But I'm your idiot." Your words made him choke on the thing and you helped him before erupting into belly laughter.
Haruka was still blushing no matter how many times you exposed him to your affectionate words. He finally came to realize that you just had that effect on him and he didn't mind it that much anymore.
Tags: @misticbullet
#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker#haruka sakura x reader
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Hii,do you mind if you make an scene where you and furina or any other characters fight and you ended up taking their cuddling privilege through the rest of the day? Thanks!!
Them taking away your cuddle privileges after a fight
characters: Furina / Nilou x gn!reader (separate)
warnings: none
a/n: ....you know... reading through the request one last time before posting this, it looks like I may have misunderstood smth *slightly*.
I hope this is still fine! If you want me to write reader taking away their cuddling priviledges after all just request it again and I'll try to write it someday!
Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Furina
“I’m nowhere clingy!”
You’d have to be either deaf, stupid or oblivious to an unhealthy degree to miss your cuddling privileges being revoked. Furina had not exactly been subtle when openly declaring it after all. And while she may not have mentioned cuddling specifically, not trusting herself to not blush like a little kid at just the mention of it, you felt confident in saying that she had delivered her message well enough for even the most tone-deaf idiot to understand.
And yet, the exact same accusation that you had half-jokingly thrown her way and that she had taken such great offense to, turned the next few days into some of the best entertainment you had experienced in recent memory.
Seeing an former Archon act dignified while at the same time having to fight the obvious urge to hug you the moment you were behind closed doors, only to then turn around and act like her embargo on hugging and cuddling was punishing you, was funnier than any comedy a human could possibly ever pen.
“So… about our argument a few days ago.” Furina spoke up the moment you returned to the table with your cooking, forcing you to fight off the grin that was threatening to pop-up on your face.
“So, about our argument a few days ago”, you repeated her words, intentionally ending on a high note to leave her waiting for your next words, only to continue to set up the table in silence.
“Are you- I-” she eventually stuttered out, only to stop herself before she could embarrass herself further. Her cheeks glowing slightly red as she tried to regain her composure.
“Who knows, if you were to apologize for your groundless accusations a few days back right now, I might just forgive you”, Furina graciously offered with closed eyes, avoiding to look at you in the process.
All the better for you, or she might have noticed the wide grin that had finally broken out on your face. For a moment you considered her ‘offer’.
Sure, you missed cuddling on the couch as well and weren’t exactly the biggest fan of keeping up these kind of games…. and yet seeing her continue to needlessly die on this hill that so obviously harmed her more than you was very amusing.
“Wow, really? That seems very nice of you”, you mused with a smile while filling her plate with a portion before doing the same for yours and sitting down opposite of her. “Bon Appetit!”
“Oh come on. Stop being so stubborn! I’ve even given you such a good opportunity to apologize!” Furina's dignified act crumbled right before your eyes as she started to sound more and more desperate. You could practically hear her begging you to be the bigger person, and yet being small felt surprisingly great.
And yet you eventually- FINALLY gave in, much to the relief of the person sitting in front of you. “I am so sorry for calling you clingy Furina. I now see that I was clearly in the wrong and the one actually fitting the description of ‘clingy’ was in fact me”, your apology came out with a… healthy amount of sarcasm, and yet it was more than enough for her.
“...I’ll forgive you. Since you were nice enough to cook for me today”, she declared.
“I know I might be overplaying my hand here, but would you be so kind as to indulge me in a bit of cuddling later on? I’ve simply had to go on without it for far too long.”
“YES- Sure”, Furina immediately jumped at your offer before quickly switching back to her usual act, a wide smile plastered on her face nonetheless as she looked down at the food in front of her.
“It looks delicious, bon appetit!”
Nilou
While the two of you seemed to have quickly moved past your argument, spending time together as if nothing had happened and avoiding to even mention the subject again, it quickly dawned on you that while you had hoped this to be one of those arguments noone had to explicitly apologize for and that was simply forgotten the next day, the other party involved seemingly was of a different opinion.
Not that Nilou said anything, she greeted you with the same sweet smile before chatting and going on small walks through the bazaar with you in the same manner as on any day of the week. And yet, whenever you as much as tried to initiate any kind of physical contact, no matter if hand-holding or hugging and cuddling, she’d dodge as easily as she breathed. At first it seemed like nothing but a coincidence, but after the dozenth time even you realized something was wrong.
What followed was a days-long standoff. Both of you trying to make the other one crack before yourself, while retaining your sweet and unbothered facade, and while there were moments where you could have sworn to nearly see Nilou instinctively grab your hand, she always managed to stop herself before anything happened.
And while you certainly could have continued with the act for weeks to come, you eventually decided to be the bigger person. For the sake of putting this childish game of chicken behind, of course. And for no other reasons.
“Sure Nilou. You win”, you disrupted the silence that existed between the two of you while Nilou was in the process of adjusting her stage, her movement grinding to a halt as she began staring at you in confusion.
“I wasn’t aware we were playing something. Did you have fun?”
‘Not aware’ your a-
“Mhm, I am sorry about the argument”, you cut off your thoughts, immediately earning yourself a tilt of her head. After all this time you knew her clueless act to be nothing but an act and yet, when she looked at you like this you nearly found yourself doubting it all over again.
“Oh that? That was a whole week ago, did it still bother you all this time?”, she asked before finally finishing putting down the pot of flowers, quickly making her way down from the stage to join you and shooting you a sweet smile. “Don’t worry, I forgive you. I also didn’t mean everything I’ve said.”
If Nilou hadn’t suddenly grabbed your hand and started pulling you along her daily routine, you might have almost rolled your eyes, instead you found yourself thanking Lesser Lord Kusanali that you were indeed correct about your theory.
Bye Bye childish standoff, welcome back cuddling privileges.
#nilou x reader#nilou x you#nilou imagines#furina x you#furina x y/n#furina x reader#furina imagines
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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗
Percy Jackson x Fem!ReaderSynopsis: you and Percy make up, and head out to the beach together !!
Warning(s): cursing
Word Count: 1911
A/N: Percy and the beach, yummyyyy😋
╰➤ MASTERLIST pt6
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
If there was one word to describe how Percy felt, it was stupid. He'd completely messed things up with you, and now he felt like shit. He was currently having lunch with Jason, Leo and Charles, whilst complaining about his problems to them.
"Dude, whats she saying about me," he asked.
"That your an asshole," Leo said.
"And some other words we don't feel comfortable repeating," Charles added.
"And how did you manage to mess it up that bad," Jason chuckled and Percy just groaned.
"She was drunk, what was I supposed to do??"
"Dude, she's embarrassed. She tried kissing you and you sat there like a deer in headlights," Leo stated like it was the obviously. It kinda was to be fair.
"Well if we want to get technical," Percy held up his finger like he was about to make a point. "We were technically behind the headlights, not in them."
"But if I smacked the shit out of you, suddenly I'm a villain," Leo held his hands up in surrender, and Percy just glared at him.
"Dude, just try apologizing or something," Charles pleaded. At the end of the day, if Percy doesn't make it work with you, then Charles has no Silena.
"Yeah, but um, there's just one more thing I have to take care of then," Percy stood up and walked over to where Luke was sitting with his friends. "Yo, Luke."
He called out and Luke stood up with Percy, moving to speak in private. "Whats up, not here for more money are you?"
"No, the opposite actually," Luke looked at Percy confused. "I don't want you to pay me anymore, I'm done."
"What do you mean you're done?? I haven't taken Silena out yet."
"I don't care, I'm out, do what you want with Silena, but our deal is off. And if she likes you, then your already set anyways," Percy waved off a complaining Luke and went to go find you.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
"Guys are dicks and I hate them," you complained to Piper.
"You just noticed?"
You glared and she just made a face at you. "But seriously, what is his problem??"
"I could probably help you if you ever, you know, told me the problem."
You were kind of embarrassed about it but said it anyways. "It's just, after all these days of trying to take me out, I go in to kiss him and he just sits there?? Like what the hell is that???"
"Weren't you totally wasted? And he like, wasn't?" You slowly nodded. "Don't you realize while you were taking shots on shots he stayed sober and followed you around, and even took you home once he noticed how drunk you got. Of course he didn't kiss you, that'd be, you know, weird??"
You just rolled your eyes. You're a stubborn woman to say the least, so you didn't want to admit she was right. "Whatever."
She chuckled as you both parted ways. You were walking towards the bathroom before class, when you suddenly felt someone pull you by the arm. Before you even had the time to scream you were in janitors closet.
"Who the fuck do you think you are," you turned around and saw Percy standing in front of you. "Oh my fucking god."
You face palmed as Percy started. "Hi."
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
"Really? Because if that's it, I'll be on my way then," you tried to shove him out the way and leave, but he was stronger than he looked. Actually, he did look kind of strong, but that was besides the point.
"I mean it. I didn't want to embarrass you but you were literally wrecked, and I thought you'd hate me if I did anything. Guess either way you would've just hated me or something, I don't know. But look, I'm sorry."
You appreciated the apology, you supposed. "I don't hate you," you said lowly.
"Hmm," you were about to repeat yourself when you saw that smug look on his face, letting you know he definitely did in fact, hear you.
"Don't push your luck, Jackson," you pointed in his face.
"είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις."
"I'll figure out Greek one day, just you wait. I'll find out all the mean things you've been saying to my face," you laughed.
"I'm not insulting you. In fact, I never was."
"Well.. what are you saying then," you asked, and Percy just stared down at you, wondering whether what he was thinking would be a good idea or not. He decided to just stop thinking about it as he held your face and just kissed you.
When he pulled away, all he said was, "Like I said, nothing mean."
He went to walk out but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving. "Percy.. are you busy later?"
"I may or may not have detention after school," You raised your eyebrow. "I just didn't want to got to math. Shucks."
"Yeah, shucks." It got quiet. "I'll see you later though, right?"
"Right," he smiled, this time letting you through the door. When he followed behind you, he tried ignoring Leo peering out from the end of the hallway as he made his way to class.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
As fast as the school day started, now it was over. Well, not for Percy, who was currently stuck in detention, how fun. Percy was supposed to be writing an essay about why he was in detention and what he could do in the future to prevent him from coming back, but he was just drawing dicks all over his paper, chuckling to himself.
"No noises," the detention supervisor, or soccer coach, shouted out. Percy rolled his eyes, then he heard the door opening, and saw you walking through.
"Hey coach," you greeted as you walked toward the front of the room.
"Sorry Y/N but I'm a little busy," he huffed out as he turned his back towards the class and shuffled through some papers. As he did so, you turned over to Percy, signaling him. to make it over to the window by where the coach was currently facing. Outside the window was a ledge Percy could climb down from, giving him a release from detention. Except you may of whispered to loud, catching the attention of your coach.
"Well, um. I'm just here to talk about some strategies for next game," you said. Thinking of lies on the spot were actually kind of hard.
"And um, what is that?" He was now facing away the window, and Percy was slowly making his way towards it.
"I'm just giving you an idea, something off of what you told us. You know, the diversion plan."
"I taught you that," he questioned as he began to look around the room, but you stopped him by grabbing his face, before he notice Percy, or the lack of Percy.
"Yes you did. Basically we need to be there," you turned his head slightly one way, "Then making the other team turn the other way," you turned his head again and this time letting go.
"And how would we make them turn-" Percy made too much noise when opening the window. "What-"
So you used your last idea, "Like this!"
You lifted up your top, no bra. Whoops! Hey, it worked, except Percy almost stopped before coming back to his senses and leaving through the window, finally. "Well, thank you for your time, it was duly appreciated."
You held your head down and laughed as you left the cheering classroom (yes, you have nice boobs, don't even girl), running to catch Percy outside. By the time you reached the front of the school, you were out of breathe. You saw Percy sitting down on the steps as you took a seat next to him.
"Nice 'diversion,'" he joked, caused you to softly punch his arm.
"What? Thinking on the fly is hard."
"S your best idea was to flash your tits to your coach?"
"You know what, if you want to stay here you go do that," you joked as you walked toward your car. Percy just laughed as he followed you.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
"Parlez-vous anglais," Charles read from his book, and Silena repeated back. They were practicing pronunciation as Charles spoke and Silena repeated.
"Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir," Silena spoke up, somewhat agitated.
"What," he started flipping through his textbook. "I don't remember reading that."
Silena just rolled her eyes and walked off, leaving behind a very confused Charles.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
'ugh why can't boys take hints'
You laughed at your phone as Silena complained about Charles. Right now you were waiting downstairs in your car while Percy ran up into his apartment to grab a pair of swim trunks. After sneaking him out, you guys spent about an hour an half just driving around, doing nothing in particular. As the sun started to go down, Percy got the idea to eat down by the beach.
You were knocked out of your laughter when Percy banged your window.
"Hey there," he said as he sat back into the passenger seat. You just started driving back to your place for your own swimsuit, thankfully your dad was home to stop you. You grabbed a purple bikini and ran back to your car. "Finally, I'm starving."
"Yeah yeah, slow it down bigback you'll be fine,' you clapped back. You guys made your way to the closest dominos and bought a pepperoni pizza and some cinnamon bread twist (Percy's Treat!!). The smell alone made you want to salivate.
Finally making your way down to the basically empty beach, you laid down a towel as Percy placed the food down. You were both talking and laughing as you watched the sun set into the horizon. You both laid back and watched the sky fade as Percy turned toward you.
"Can I ask you something," he asked.
"Yeah?"
"How come.." he paused, as if trying to find the right words. "you know, you act the way you do?"
"Why I act like this?"
"Not in a bad way of course, but you aren't the friendliest at first, you know. Well yeah you know."
You chuckled, "I don't like doing what people want of me, or expect of me. Being like everyone else is so boring. Why live up to their expectations instead of my own."
"Makes sense, I supposed."
"He supposes," he rolled his eyes and chuckled.
"Can I ask you a question now?"
"Go ahead."
"What happened those eight months you went missing?"
He was quiet and you didn't know if you had taken it too far. "I don't know. Its like I was just asleep and woke up with.."
You tilted your head as he sat up and lifted his shirt. He was covered in scars. "Woke up with these," he finished.
You sat up close to him, and without even realizing it you started tracing them with your fingers. "Sorry, that must've been terrifying."
"Yeah, but it's okay, I guess. Not like I know what happened anyways," he grabbed your hand and held it. You looked up at him, and even in the moonlight, those sea-green eyes still sparked like the sun was beaming. And this time, you were the one who leaned in and kissed him. This really did make up for Friday night, huh.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
✰είσαι πολύ όμορφη όταν δεν με θέλεις να πεθάνω, ξέρεις - you're very beautiful when you don't want me to die, you know
✰Parlez-vous anglais - Do you speak English
✰Est-ce que tu vas un jour me lever et m'inviter à sortir - Are you ever going to stand up and ask me out
✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 @that1nerd-20
(just lemme know if you wanna be added)
#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#percy jackson pjo#percy pjo#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#silena pjo#silena beauregard#charles pjo#charles beckendorf#charlena
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