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taintandviolent · 7 months

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feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage, and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin. “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…” He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…” You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz

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lovelettersforthedamned · 2 months

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hi hi hi hi i saw this post and i wanna see your take on it (with peter ofc like hurt/comfort) (https://www.tumblr.com/moonstruckme/730170525023862784/okay-hey-me-again-was-hoping-to-send-a-request?source=share) something similar happened to me a couple of weeks ago too.

So a couple of weeks ago i was planning like this whole big get together and was texting everyone and planning food, decorations and everything and the day of most people either canceled or just literally didnt show up and i didnt even get a text or anything, and i literally spent hours planning, like i went to TJMaxx, Marshalls and stuff like that to find cute decorations and everything, like i spent all of my own money on this. Since no one came i literally sat in my house all dolled up eating everything and watch tv cuz i was upset. THEN around like 11 at night i was on instagram (and im guessing one of them forgot to take me off their close friends) and i saw a story of basically everyone i invited to my party go to another persons party or something i wasnt invited to ig and none of them told me. Like if im being honest, if they couldnt come cuz of some other event i would have moved the date even tho i picked it first. but like, its so shitty cuz they are like my main friend group and its hard for me to mingle with people in general. I have been texting like dry responses and the group chat has been empty since and i have no idea what to do. - 🎀

That’s What Peter’s For

✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 0.8k

✮ warnings: one forehead kiss, hurt/comfort, mentions of food, angst.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main masterlist ⋆ peter parker masterlist

✮ gif by @spidey-stark

The TV in front of you flickered from frame to frame, each pixel reflecting a bright and blinding light into your dark living room. It’s late as you sit alone on the couch, eating the food you prepared for your friends going to waste due to your overplanning. Or maybe because they didn’t bother to show up.

As you mindlessly shovel food into your mouth, you think back on your trips to pick out decorations for this night. You went with Peter, and you spent too much, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friends to gawk at the effort you put in, you just wanted them to care.

When you were picking out an outfit for tonight, you tried on each variation, but to no avail, you weren’t satisfied. The bedroom looked like a warzone. Shirts and pants scattered along the floor, leaving little to no walking room. You couldn’t help but look forward to seeing everyone, the thought making you anxious for everyone to arrive.

Peter was out for the night doing his nightly activities, when the clock struck eight, signaling that your friends should be here at any moment. You were still perfecting some of the drinks when you checked the clock again, eight forty-five. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you walked over to your phone to double-check the time and also look for any ‘running late, sorry’ messages. And to your surprise, the time was correct, and no one had texted you.

Taking a seat on the couch, you looked for the digital invite you’d sent everyone to double-check check you got the date right. Maybe I’m the wrong one? Once you found it, you took a deep breath. The date is right.

You tried to find answers as you scrolled through social media. One of the people invited to your party posted a video of themselves dancing in a dimly lit club, the camera panned over to the rest of the group. You can feel your heart sink into your stomach as you realize that everyone you’ve invited was in that video posted five minutes ago.

Now it’s almost midnight, and you haven’t moved besides turning on the TV and reaching for the snacks on your coffee table. Thick tears roll down your face, taking your makeup with you. You texted one of them a few hours ago, simply asking when they would arrive at your place. And of course, you didn’t receive a response.

Too in your mind, you don’t even hear the front door open, revealing Peter quickly shoving his suit in his backpack. He was assuming that there would be other people filling in his apartment, causing him to change in the alley and rush up to meet you. A smile is on his face until he’s met with the sound of silence along with the muffled noise from whatever you are watching.

Then his eyes land on you. Walking over he can’t see your tear-stained cheeks yet as he asks, “Where is everyone, bug?” You sniffle, before turning your head to look at him, instantly breaking down in tears. “Woah,” he instantly sits next to you on the couch, pulling you in for a hug, “tell me what happened.” His tone suddenly turns stern, as he worries.

You look up at him, your skin smudged with a thick smear of black from the mascara you delicately applied just hours before. “Th–They…never showed up,” you take a shaky breath, “everyone ditched me for something else, Pete. And n–no one told me.”

Peter’s worry turned into anger. He was there for you through all of the planning, all of the grocery trips, and all of the outfit changes, and none of them cared to show. He knew that you needed him in this moment. You needed a warm embrace to pour your heart out. And that you did.

You sat and cried with Peter until you fell asleep, exhaustion taking over your body. When Peter felt your breathing even out beside him, he turned off the TV and carried you to your shared bedroom. Placing you down on the mattress, he walked back into the kitchen, quietly packing everything up, and cleaning the space. The last thing you needed to see tomorrow morning was the events of tonight.

You didn’t stir until you felt a cold cloth on your face, softly wiping at your skin. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just taking your makeup off,” he hushes, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. You relax under him. The feeling of someone looking after you makes you melt further into the mattress.

With Peter everything was alright, and you knew that he would be right at your side through all of it. That includes texting your friends a lengthy paragraph about the value of friendship.

✮ author's note: oh 🎀 anon, im so sorry you had to deal with this. i've been through something like this a few years back, and it is such a shitty feeling. you don't deserve friends that will push you aside for something they think is better. friendships do not work like that. they should have communicated with you about not making it, but the fact that they just ghosted you completely and tried to cover it up??? shady as hell. i'm always here to listen!!

don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support this if you liked it!! my asks/inbox is open, so send in requests if you'd like. ok, ily bye<333

#fluff #marvel #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker hurt/comfort

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harlowsbby · 1 year

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Bare wit me part 2

Love is so strange, one minute you’re head over hills for somebody and the next minute you’re crying your heart out and wondering what went wrong.

You getting cheated on wasn’t your fault but you couldn’t help but to blame yourself. Maybe you should’ve saw the signs sooner thinking back on times you’d leave Jack and Lilly alone flooded your mind, all those times they spent together they were sleeping with each other.

Maybe if you were a better girlfriend you wouldn’t have gotten cheated on, you weren’t so sure what it was or how to feel, your emotions were all in the wind you felt like you were going down and couldn’t get up.

“Y/N open the door please, you’ve been hiding in your room all day.” You’ve been staying with your friend Tae ever since you found out Jack was cheating on you, being alone would just take its tole on your mentally so staying with Tae was your best option.

“Let me be Tae please I don’t wanna see anybody ever again, I’m literally the joke of Atlanta right now.” Tae sighed and took out the spare key he had in his pocket before opening the door.

“How did you get in?”

“A spare key duh and I need you to get up and shower I’m not letting you lay around and feel depressed and sorry for yourself he isn’t worth it.”

Tae despised Lilly and Jack for what they did to you especially Lilly, you’ve all been best friends since elementary school he never thought Lilly would stoop so slow and sleep with someone’s man.

“I just hate the way I spent so much time and effort into a relationship that was failing Tae, this shit hurts so much. I was kept a secret for months and months and just to find out the reason why we couldn’t tell the world about us is because he was cheating on me with my so called best friend.”

“I understand your frustration and anger boo but sitting in this dark room all day and eating up all of my ice cream might I add, isn’t healthy.” Tae rubbed soothing circles on your back and you smiled.

“You’re right Tae thank you.”

“You’re welcome Y/N but seriously get up the charity event is tonight and you’re coming.” You groaned and tossed a pillow at Tae but smiled and got up and started the shower for you.

Every year around this holidays Atlanta always put together a charity event for those indeed, a lot of famous celebrities and influencers were invited and helped host the event and they even had musical guest, sadly this years music guest was Jack.

“Do I have to go? How about we both just stay in bed all day and watch movies.” You smiled nicely and even gave him your signature pout but Tae wasn’t falling for it.

“Nope you’re getting up and getting dressed and going, now get up you honestly smell like ten cans of bounce that ass.”

With the help of Tae you finally managed to get up and shower it felt good but the entire time all you thought about was Jack.

That night

“You slept with Lilly? Are you kidding me right now Jack.” You we’re a crying mess, you were sure people around were recording and ready to share them to all the known blogs but that was the last thing on your mind.

“Baby it was a mistake.”

“A mistake?!” Lilly stepped forward.

“You weren’t calling me a mistake just a few days ago, I wasn’t a mistake when you were fucking me after Y/N left to work.” Several gasp were heard from across the room.

“Really Jack? This whole time I was out here being faithful to you and doing nothing but loving and caring for you and towards you and you were out here cheating.”

“Please baby let’s talk about this somewhere more private.” He whispered and went to take your hand but you pulled your hand back and shook your head at him, tears stung your eyes.

“I hate you Jack I really and honestly hate you.”

“You don’t mean that Y/N.” Jack’s lip quivered and tried his best to mask his emotions but he couldn’t.

“I mean every word Jack. I hate you Jack and I hope you both rote in hell together.”

“Y/N are you done in there?! You’ve been showering for the past hour and it don’t take that long to wash some hair and your body.” Tae yelled from the other side of the door, you laughed and rolled your eyes. Turning off the water you grabbed the towel and dried yourself off before stepping out of the shower and opening the connected door.

“Yes Tae?”

“Uhh come on you have to get dressed and I need to do your hair” Tae was one of the best hairstylists in Atlanta, celebrities traveled to get their hair done by Tae and lucky for you he did your hair at no cost.

After you got dressed, Tae did your hair you smiled in approval at how well it looked. After Tae got ready the two of you got into the car he had ordered.

“Are you nervous?” You we’re nervous not because of the charity event but to see Jack again you knew he was currently in Atlanta and you were surprised you haven’t ran into him before tonight’s event.

“I’m nervous but as long as you’re there by my side everything should be okay.”

“Yeah so about that..”

“What are you talking about Tae?” Tae smiled at you sheepishly smile.

“I won’t be with you tonight like I will during certain times but I’ll be busy getting everything ready for the auction Y/N.”

“You promised you’d be with me all night Tae? Now I don’t wanna go I don’t wanna risk getting caught alone with Jack.”

“Just stay around where everyone else will be or sit at the table with Tuson and Ari.”

“Fine I’ll do that.” You pouted and sat back in your seat, you weren’t exactly thrilled that Tae wasn’t going to be with you for the night but as long as you stayed with Ari and Tuson you’d be good.

Once Tae and You arrived, cameras were immediately being shoved in your face.

“Y/N are all the rumors true? Did Jack Harlow cheat on you with your best friend.”

“Y/N over here?! Are you Jack Harlow’s mystery girl?!”

“Y/N, Y/N?!”

“Fuck I wish they’d leave us alone where the hell is security.”

“We’re almost inside Tae don’t even worry about them let’s just go.” When the two of you finally made it inside you sighed in relief. You went from actually being a nobody to finally being a somebody but not in a good way.

“Well I’ll see you around Y/N just stay with Ari and Tuson and you’ll be okay.”

“Don’t take long Tae please, I don’t want to run into Jack without you by my side.” Tae gave you a reassuring smile and gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“I promise Y/N whenever I have the free time I’ll be back out here with you okay?”

“Okay Tae.” He gave you a side hug before going off to the back rooms to get everything together for the auctions.

You felt as if everyone was looking at you and laughing at you, and maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you but you felt like you were the center of attention. Walking past people you could’ve swore they said your name or something about Jack.

Ari had texted you and said her and Tuson would be at the table in a few minutes they were just getting you all some drinks.

“Y/N is that you?” Looking up you you smiled seeing Druski.

“Druski?! Long time no see how have things been.” Druski smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

“Things have been good shorty I can’t complain you know could’ve been records has been out here blowing up, rumor is could’ve been is the hottest recording label out right now.” Druski stated, the two of you immediately bursted out laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you Y/N, but how you been shorty? I kinda heard about Jack and You.” Of course Druski did, it seemed like the whole city of Atlanta knew about Jack and You.

“I’m doing better now Druski, I’m still hurt obviously but I’ll be okay and I’ll get over it.”

Druski hated that Jack cheated on you as well he stopped talking to Jack for a few days because honestly Druski never thought Jack was one of those type of guys but clearly Jack proved him wrong.

“Well as long as you’re growing and moving on that’s all that matters.”

“You’re right Dru, when is Jack supposed to be performing anyways?”

“Uhh” Druski checked his phone seeing it was now ten at night.

“He should be coming on in a few minutes actually.” As if on que here came the Dj announcing Jack.

“Atlanta!! I need you all to stand the fuck up right now and show some love to Jack Harlow!!” Everyone in the room started screaming like crazy and started recording Jack.

You sucked in your breath seeing how good he looked, he was wearing a regular pair of levi jeans and a striped blue and white shirt with a pair of new balance jeans. It was something basic but Jack always pulled off the most basic looks.

“What’s up Atlanta? Y’all ready to party.” The crowd screamed and Jack immediately started singing Dua Lipa, after awhile of singing and talking to the crowed he decided to slow things down a bit.

“This song right here it’s dedicated to someone really special she isn’t in my life anymore but if you’re in this room right now I hope you know I miss you so much.”

“Is he singing a song about you?” Ari’s voice came from behind you. Looking up at Druski he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t know he was doing this honestly Y/N.” Druski told you.

“Why would he sing a song about Y/N when he’s with Lilly?” Tuson asked which received him a slap to the head by Ari.

“Tuson shut up.”

You watched how Jack sat down on the stool that was given to him, he looked around the crowd before his eyes locked with yours.

“This is for you.” He spoke into the mic, the entire time Jack sang he never took his eyes off of you.

“I know you sick of being my little secret, I know you sick of being my favorite, I know you hate the fact that I’m famous.” He sang and stood up, he started making his way towards the direction you were in.

“I told my therapist about you, she always takes your side, ain’t nobody I love more I just need more time.” He started singing with more passion, he wanted you to know that he heard you and that he knew he made a mistake but wanted you two to give what you once had another chance.

“Hate the fact that you gotta wait, but you gon wait, cause you confident that we soulmates.” You smiled sadly thinking back at those late nights after some of his shows you’d lay on his chest and draw random shapes on his chest with your fingers and tell him that the two of you were soulmates and would be together forever.

“Y/N are you okay?” Druski asked, you didn’t even notice you had tears streaming down your face till you rubbed your cheeks and noticed your makeup was smearing.

“Uh I’m okay Druski I’ll be right back okay? I just need to freshen up.” You quickly hurried out of the room.

“Where did she go?” Jack asked Druski backstage.

“She went to the bathroom but I don’t think she’s taking you back Jack I mean what you did was fucked up, sleeping with her best friend? And then you brought Lilly here.”

“I don’t have the time for a lecture right now Druski, I have to get Y/N back.”

“Damn you Tae, I don’t even know why I came tonight, damn you Tae I should’ve stayed home and finished eating my ice cream.” You complained to yourself before leaning against on the of walls.

What were you doing honestly you knew you should’ve stayed home, you should’ve known Jack was going to pull some stuff of stunt like that.

“Y/N?” You never thought you’d hear that voice again turning around slowly you were now face to face with Jack.

“What do you want? Haven’t you caused me enough pain. Don’t you have some new girlfriend to entertain.” You spat at him.

“Look Lilly and me aren’t a thing all of that is fake we never got together. I wanted to see if you’d take me back Y/N.”

“Take you back? After all of the damaged you caused I don’t think so Jack.” You went to step away from him but he pushed you back into the corner gently, he raised both his hands and leaned them against the wall behind you, great now you were stuck.

“Give me one good reason why you won’t take me back Y/N.”

"I don't want a tainted love Jack, haven't you had enough?" Jack fucked up and you weren’t understanding what he didn’t get by that.

"Please Jack, please let me go you messed up things between us not me, you made that choice to sleep with Lilly." You cried out all you wanted was to go home you didn’t want to be here anymore.

You huffed and tried your best to avoid eye contact with him but he wasn't letting up.

"We aren't working out Jack it's over between us, please move l'm pretty sure your little girlfriend Lilly is waiting for you."

What you didn't know was that Lilly was hiding behind the corner listening to Jack and You, she peaked around the corner and glared seeing how dangerously close Jack was to you.

"Please Y/N I promise l've changed I realized I make a mistake sleeping with Lilly was the dumbest thing I’ve ever did.”

You weren’t even sure if you could trust him anymore what if he was lying to you again.

"I miss waking up to you in the morning, I miss hearing the sound of your soft snores in my ear whenever you'd lay on my chest." He smiled weakly as did you. If it was one thing Jack was good at it was changing the topic he loved saying things to make you feel better or make it seem like what he did wasn't as bad.

"I'm sorry Jack but I don't see us getting back together I can't get back together with a cheater, I trusted you, I trusted you with my heart and you broke it, Lilly and You."

While Jack and You were talking you didn’t notice that Lilly had snuck in she was on her way to use the bathroom but stopped when she heard people talking once she realized it was Jack and You she stayed hidden around the corner.

Lilly frowned she never meant to sleep with Jack the two of them were both drunk and one thing led to another and they kept an ongoing relationship for about five months. Lilly was in love with Jack and she wasn't about to let you take him away this time, not again.

"Can we start over Y/N? I promise baby please I promise I won't make those same mistakes again, Ineed you Y/N." You bit your lip nervously as you looked into Jack's eyes you weren't sure what to do or how to feel or what to even say.

We're you seriously about to take him back, after all of the things he put you through, you didn't feel like being his secret again and having to act like the two of you weren't a couple, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him.

“There’s a reason why I can’t take you back Jack.” You gulped were you really about to tell him something that would most likely ruin his friendship with someone close to him.

“I can’t take you back because.”

“Because what baby? What’s the reason.”

“I can’t take you back because I slept with Urban while we were together.”

taglist 💗

@moody4world @mortirolo @minkookie95

@hoodharlow @heavyhitterheaux @nattinatalia

@jackmans-poison @jackharloww

@jacksmoviestar @harlowthot

@awhoere4more

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n

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larxii · 5 months

Text

Eimiko fluff because i thought about it and i think it's cute so please enjoy

No warnings

(Also idk anything about tumblr i only write for fun and it's usually 12am-3am ideas)

I thought it'd be cute if Ei did something out of her comfort zone for Miko

A thoughtful Meal

Ei can't cook. That is common knowledge by now. Were it anyone else she'd decline and she had before when the traveller asked if she could make them a meal she simply responded, "I can take care of anything else, but not that."

Of course she had tried multiple times to cook which ended up in absolute failure- somehow burning not just the food but the bowls and chopsticks as well.. at times she'd simply give up for the day and try again when it crossed her mind.

Miko visited her often with little gifts (sugar, spice and everything nice) and would hang out for hours and hours. Sometimes they'd go on small little dates together and enjoy each other's company. Ei realized that it was never her who went our of her way to visit, and that she was never the one to bring gifts or ask to hang out. So much time meditating about eternity by herself she often forgot about her relationships with others, including her "friend". But this time she was determined to make an effort. After reading many cooking books and analyzing them a little too literally she got to work. Miko's favorite food was Kitsune Udon and according to the book it was only 25 minutes of work. It can't be that hard, right?

1 hour later.

The kitchen and the food could only be described as a mess. How she managed to ruin such a simple recipe is beyond celestia's knowledge but she had the plate in hand and tried to make it look as good as possible though it didn't really help make it any appetizing..

Ei had called Miko already and luckily she arrived just in time, after all the walk from Narukami shrine to inazuma city was a long one.

"It must be important if you made me walk all the way from Mt. Yougou to over here.", Miko huffed. "I would never make you walk that far if it wasn't important!", responded Ei quickly as her lover sat down on the miniature futon, looking up at Ei in curiosity due to her oddly jittery behaviour.

"Is everything alright, Ei?"

"Yes, Just wait right there"

It only took a few moments for Ei to come back with a bowl with Miko's favorite food- an incredibly butchered version of it. Miko blinked for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"-this is, ah.. what is this?"

"Kitsune udon"

...

"Did you make this?"

"Yes- do you like it?"

Miko was torn.. was Ei being a sweetheart or trying to kill her? The food did not look edible at all but she couldn't help but gaze at Ei's hopeful expression. Waiting for her girlfriend to taste it, to anyone else the staring would be unnerving but not to Miko. Miko sighed, saying her goodbye to the world in her head as she finally did taste the food Ei spent so long making for her. First bite was hard to swallow.. Miko's eyes welled up with tears and how bad the taste was- seriously how did this girl mess up so bad? Miko didn't want to potentially poison herself but the thought that Ei wanted to do something nice for her made her heart skip a beat.. it was sweet, very sweet.. too sweet. It made her happy, so happy. Miko decided to simply put her life on the line and eat the whole bowl. She swallowed the food and put the chopstick down.

"Did you like it?" Ei's voice was soft, curious. But with an underlying tone of insecurity

"It was- edible"

Ei's eyes lit up- it was edible! That's better than she's ever accomplished. The sight being too cute to Miko who had stood up to be besides her girl. Ei looked at her with a soft smile as Miko pressed herself closer.

"I can't believe you tried cooking for me, what made you want to do it, hm?"

"I thought it'd be nice to do something for you for a change.."

"Thank you for the food- next time go easy on the salt though"

"I'll.. i'll keep that in mind"

And with that Miko took her beloved's cheek and pulled her into a sweet little kiss on the lips. Miko's lips lingered before pulling away and smiling at her.

"Since i'm already here and it's late you wouldn't possibly make me walk all the way to the shrine at this hour, would you?"

°•+°•+°•+°•+°•°+°•+°

#eimiko #yae miko #raiden ei #genshin impact #yae miko x ei

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newt-and-salamander · 5 months

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Okay, time to go and overshare online because that's a very healthy coping mechanism and also impeccable internet safety.

Soooo, I had this job as a student assistant for 2.5 years. I worked for a professor (lets call him Mr. J.) and we got along quite well and I am very sure I carried out my tasks very efficiently and well. He repeatedly told me so.

Last year in January I received an offer as a student assistant for a different project (with Mrs. S), and also a different Professor (Mrs. Y) asked me if I would be interested to be her PhD student after I finished my degree. I was overjoyed because I was extremely interested in Mrs. Y's work and had meant to ask her myself but couldn't muster the courage. As Mrs. S worked in the same field, it was clear I would take her job as well.

So I talked to Mr. J and told him I would take a second job and I would need to lower my work load with him from 40 h/month to 30. He was ... not happy. I remember him literally saying "If Y wants to throw her hat into the ring, who am I to stop her", and in what I considered to be honest career advice, he told me not to go into her field as it was not very promising for a university career atm.

Fast-forward to June: It became clear to me that I wouldn't be able to work 60 h/month while writing my Master thesis starting in September, so I went to Mr J. and told him I would need to quit in autumn. It made sense, because the project I worked on with S was very much adjacent to the topic I chose for my thesis. Again, J was not overjoyed to hear this and told me it was "hard to find good people", but I took that as a compliment.

I finished all my tasks in time and I spent several hours in September showing my successor how to take over from me.

I then wrote a long email to J, thanking him for the 2.5 years we had worked together and everything he had taught me - because it was true, he had been a good boss and I had learned a lot and I knew he had made sure to give me interesting tasks. He had even sent me to a work trip to Paris to do some research in some archives there. I appreciated that a lot and I told him (and I had told him before), and wroteI regretted that I had to leave the job, but that I had had a great time. I also asked him if he could write me a employer's reference as it was pretty much my first proper job.

I didn't expect a bouquet of flowers or anything, but I thought he might write back with something like "thanks for your work, good luck with your thesis". All I got back then was a one liner saying he would write the reference.

I already had the feeling back then that he was sulking, but I brushed the thought away as him being very busy. I met him once on the corridor since then, where he very obviously had no time for me. And today I got the employer's reference, 3 months after I had asked him to write one.

It was a generic text about the university, then a list of my tasks which I provided and then 2 paragraphs, of which the first one said also the very generic things about my work behaviour, including 2 typos, and the whole second paragraph was dedicated to how I quit the job because I got another attractive offer and how he regrettet to let me go.

And ... I get it. These things are always very gerenic and maybe I'm reading too much into it. But tbh reading this, I feel very bad, because I think the only effort he put into it was to make sure I knew he was not happy about me leaving, and also this sounds like I left on a whim, while I told him 4 months prior. I am also very disappointed because he never once said thank you or good bye to me, and - as a person who is generally not very sure of herself - I think this letter understates my actual performance. All the time I thought I was overinterpreting his behaviour, but now I think it's safe to say that he's offended. And I don't understand why. I was only his student assistant. I think I did my job very reliably, but at the end of the day it still was scanning books for his seminars and going to archives to take photos of documents for him. I did not betray him in any personal way. I don't see why he would react in such a way. (And I can't stop thinking about the "throwing the hat into the ring" comment. If he felt I should in any way be more loyal (???) to him and IF he had maybe thought of offering me a PhD position, he could have done it then and there. I can't read his thoughts. I am suffering from impostor syndrom anyway, I don't think anyone would willingly want to take me on for a doctorate.)

Anyway, I'm confused and hurt and I wrote him an email asking very nicely to correct the typos. Let's see if that takes him 3 more months.

#also I have covid rn so maybe i'm a bit too emotional #and I just realised by working more than 10 h/week i might have tapped into my time for the cursed Wissenschaftszeitvertragsgesetz #and nobody told me #but let's not jump to conclusions i'm upset enough #and I can't stop wondering if I ACTUALLY did something wrong #rant #nobody will read this i hope #back to my master thesis #personal thoughts #uni

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hanshikha-life · 10 months

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My Prankster Brother

It was a sunny evening in the month of June. The bright light shone at my books and my pen was constantly being bitten while I brainstormed the answers of my homework questions. My mind went back and forth on the same question again and again. That’s strange. I’m generally really fast on working out my after school work, I thought. Maybe it was because I was working three times hard to be on par with ninth grade. “It was a sudden change this year”, I said to myself, “It’s the first time I went to school continuously without a summer break and maybe because of which I got a little stressed out”. As such thoughts fluttered through my head came out of nowhere my little sister. I tried my best to pay attention to her while my drowsy, dark-brown eyes couldn’t help closing. I was snoozing hard. Why had I gotten soo tired suddenly? After a good enough attempt to listen I heard two words, “upload google-classroom”. I gently took the jet black phone from her tender baby hands and uploaded her online quiz to the google classroom to be corrected. I had just glanced at the big, fat student copy as the phone rang loudly. “Buzz…buzz”. Hugh? I jerked. Now that sure woke me up from my great slumber. I took the phone from my sister again. To be exact I remember snatching it from her. Yes, I know I should have asked, but anyways. I swiped up the lock-screen and entered the password. The home page popped up in a few seconds as I scrolled down to see who was calling. Ahhh…It was my little, naughty cousin brother. I’d known him since he was two days old and we’d grown as thick as a rainforest ever since. We bonded over the physical time spent initially as kids and later bonded over the internet.

He’s been calling me since and two things happen everytime we e-meet. One, our time extends for hours together and two, we have so much fun that it becomes difficult to sleep the entire night. I always love spending time with him! However, this particular day I was skeptical about it. You see, he had been trying to reach for quite some time and everytime he did something kept coming up and I had to refuse his calls. It was studies, or games or sports or sometimes even meal times. I was making lame excuses for silly reasons because of which I was scared to pick the call up. Of Course, I didn’t mean it but I was just not able to make much time for him. This did bother me a little but I put it in the last cell of my brain. I had a lot of thoughts going on in my head when GASP I was back to reality again. There were two missed calls and I had to call back. I texted him to hold on and returned the phone to my sister. Allowing her to complete the work she was to do. I took the time and set things within myself right. Once my sister was done I stood up to myself and rang my brother. I had my mind all set to apologize incase I had to. I gripped the phone tightly and pushed it against my ears briskly. I took a deep breath and then said a small, sweet, “hello…How are you?”

A crazy voice came pounding out, “Ha..loo…Howwaa…re…yo…u”. I was astounded. When did this guy start having internet issues? It went on for ages together. At this point I gave up. How could someone living in such a big city ever be able to get so many WiFi issues. This was literally impossible. Like hearing a crackle person. “Ba..t…ha…w?”. Why was he doing this? It had been five minutes and it was still going on. Oh! Now I got it. Brothers are never hundred present in what they say. Maybe he was just acting all along. After soo much effort and million requests of teaching me how to do ‘breaking voice’ he started to become normal. Oh and by the way I wanted to know how to do that for real. It would be soo cool to do that in online school and trick all my classmates and teachers. I’ve been asking him to teach me ever since. Once he became a normal person he randomly started shouting to the core of his voice that he couldn’t hear me. He was screaming at the top of his voice. Probably the loudest time I ever heard him. To counter his screams I started texting him for another four minutes continually. I texted him in normal formal English, then shifted to informal, then texting language. I even texted in Telugu but heard no reply.

The call was still on and the milk white text on the top center showed that nine minutes had passed. I was very sure he was just acting off that he couldn’t hear me. He must be partying vividly just by the thought of me assuming that he couldn’t hear me and I was trying to reach out to him badly. Out of frustration I just cut the call and called him time and again. After he was sure he irritated me to his heart’s content because I did not pick his call up. After taking full revenge he spoke to me only at the exact time when I had to sit down for music class. So, now I had to cut the call and make a proper deal with him to e-meet up properly again.

What an amazing prank call it was! It was so much fun that day! I loved talking to him. It’s one of my favorite things to do!

In fact this blog is fully dedicated to him!!

#Brother

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downwiththeficness · 11 months

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Shadow and Veil-Chapter Seven

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction. Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed. You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen eyes. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Word Count:~3700

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist Read on AO3

Eva did not want to go to this stupid charity event. She didn’t want to get dressed and do her hair. She didn’t want to put on makeup. She didn’t want to smile politely while Myra made backhanded compliments. And, she certainly didn’t want to watch her husband strut around on a stage while the wealthy women of their town vied for his attention. Just existing seemed to be too much effort as of late and this party was going to take her far beyond her limits.

Since the night she killed Dr. Martin, Eva worked hard to get through one hour at a time. She focused her energy on keeping up appearances when all she wanted was to be far, far away from the large house, the designer clothes, the watchful eyes of Alexei. He hadn’t said anything to her about it, but she could feel him observing her whenever they were in a room together.

There was no telling what he saw. Eva could barely keep herself together enough to sit through dinner. She spent a lot of time crying in her closet with the door firmly shut and her face buried in a pillow. When her tears dried up, Eva stood, collected herself, and went back to whatever she had been doing prior to the breakdown.

She might have made the decision that she was going to escape her life, but actually following through on that decision felt daunting, at best. The money she stowed away was waiting for her, but what to do once she collected it? Where would she go? How would she carve out a new life, a new identity, so that she couldn’t be found? There was no doubt that Josh would come looking for her.

No.

He’d send Alexei. And, when he found Eva, she would be the person tied up in Josh’s lab. There would be no one there with enough mercy to kill her early.

Or.

Worse.

Josh would do what he occasionally promised to do if she stepped too far out of line. What he sometimes did when he left town for business. If that happened, Eva would be in a very different kind of hell. Even the thought of it had her rubbing away phantom pain around her wrist.

All of those worries had to be set aside when Eva pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the city’s largest event hall. Her hands on the wheel were tight enough that her knuckles protested. Eva kept taking long, deep breaths, hoping that it would be enough to get her to step out of the car. Each one failed. And failed. And failed. They failed until she thought she might hyperventilate.

Eva kept squeezing the wheel in her hands. Her jaw hurt from clenching so tight. She felt tears threaten to fall at the corner of her eyes.

“Stop it,” she demanded, aloud. “Stop it right now.”

Her body, thankfully, obeyed. The heart in her chest slowed and her eyes blinked away the tears. She began to breathe normally again.

“We’re going to get out of this. We just need to keep doing what they want until we can make our move.” Eva said to herself, “Now, get out of the car.”

She got out of the car.

Squaring her shoulders, Eva walked to the recreation center and stepped inside. It smelled faintly musty, a remnant from the basketball games played throughout the year. A table was sitting near the entrance with one of the event coordinators on standby to check the tickets.

Eva pulled the slim paper from her purse and presented it to a woman with curtain bangs and too much eyeliner. Her name tag read ‘Claire’.

“Mrs. Moore,” she breathed, “We’re so happy to have you here.”

Eva nodded, “I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

Pleased, Claire handed her a tri-fold brochure, “There’s all the information. If you have questions, feel free to ask.”

Eva thanked Claire and turned to enter the event room. There were streamers everywhere, crepe paper hanging from every available surface. In soft pinks and blues, it looked like a senior prom, not a county wide charity event for children—not that Eva had ever attended a prom. She’d been married almost four years by the time she would have been able to go, and Josh wasn’t about to accompany her to a dance at a school she hadn’t attended since she was fourteen.

Spotting a bar at the far end of the room, Eva bee lined for it. On the way, she was caught by Peggy.

“Eva! You look wonderful,” she gushed.

Eva smiled, “Thank you. You look lovely, too.”

Peggy was dressed in a long skirt dotted with pale lavender flowers. The neckline was ruffled lace to match the hem. Her hair had about three cans of hairspray holding it together, which possibly made her a fire hazard. And yet, taken together, Eva found her endearing.

“Thank you!” Peggy replied with a grin, “Don’t you just love the decorations?”

Eva struggled with how she should respond, settling on, “You certainly put a lot of effort into this.”

“We did,” she confirmed with a sharp nod, “though Myra had a lot of say in the matter. She’s very strong-headed.”

Eva allowed herself a genuine smile, “Yes, she is.”

With a conspiratorial look, Peggy murmured, “I would have gone a different way, but what Myra wants, she gets.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eva said carefully, unsure if Peggy was trying to draw her into a bitching contest about her mother in law.

Peggy sighed, “She has excellent taste, for sure. And, she’s managed to get three large donations for our raffle, so I guess she gets to have a little say in how things look.”

Humming, Eva glanced at the bar longingly. She could really, really use a drink.

Peggy noted another woman across the floor and waved at her, “Excuse me, this is one of our whales for the night.”

Eva watched Peggy scurry off to schmooze with the woman in the hopes of getting a bigger donation. What was it like to have nothing but this little charity event to worry about? What was it like to only exist in the present instead of being stretched, paper thin, into the past and future. Eva envied Peggy, flammable hair and all.

Sliding onto a bar stool, Eva settled in for the long haul. She wouldn’t move from this spot if she could help it. This room might be the last place in the world she wanted to be, but at least there was booze. She could get through a hell of a lot if she had enough alcohol.

Even though her back was turned, Eva could hear when Myra walked into the room. The volume of the voices dimmed noticeably. In the lull, Myra’s soft southern accent enthusiastically greeted some of their guests. Her quiet compliments and feigned surprised at how ‘lovely’ everything looked rose above the din of conversation.

Eva didn’t turn around, her attention on a bar tender who looked barely old enough to be serving liquor. To be fair, she was barely old enough to be drinking it. He greeted her warmly and ask for her order. The options were limited to wine, cocktails, and beer. Eva asked for a glass of red and watched as her drink was poured with very little ceremony.

Eva took the glass that was offered to her and turned a bit on the stool so that she could watch the crowd. The room was filling up. People that she knew and some that she didn’t wandering around talking about the décor, the possible prizes to be won, the little finger foods that were being passed around by waiters in crisp white uniforms.

It was the picture of normalcy and Eva could not feel more estranged from it.

Just as the cake walk was beginning on the stage, Myra noticed her. Eva hid her grimace behind the rim of her glass as her mother in law walked her way. Myra was wearing a fashionable blouse and skirt set that shimmered faintly as she moved. Her path weaved through the crowd with a kind of confidence that made other people step out of her way.

Eva set her wine down and smiled at Myra, “It looks like the event is going well. I’ve heard good things about the decorations.”

“Of course you have,” Myra replied, smug. “I ordered them all the way from the capitol two months ago. When they arrived, they were in these horrid little boxes that took ages to open.” She sighed, “But, I suppose it was worth the effort.”

Nodding gently, Eva pretended to look around at the results of Myra’s efforts. Or, more accurately, the results of Myra’s supervision and the efforts of the people who she got to do the actual work.

“Speaking of effort,” Myra went on with the distinctive drawl of disapproval, “you could have put a bit more into your appearance today. This is an important event.”

Eva looked down at the plain black dress she was wearing. Sleeveless, with a hemline that brushed her knees, it paired nicely with the drop pearl earrings she was wearing and the patent leather pumps on her feet.

Feeling spiteful, she replied, “Josh picked it out.”

He did pick it out. Months ago. From a catalogue. Eva’s choice to wear it was more a matter of convenience than any sense of style. The dress she wanted to wear was still at the cleaners, forgotten in the midst of Eva’s moral crisis. But, Myra didn’t need to know that.

“Ah,” Myra breathed, tempering her disdain, “Well, you can’t fault him for that. Men rarely understand a dress code. You, however, I would expect more from.”

Eva felt a thin wire of steel slide through her spine one vertebrae at a time, “Absolutely. I suppose a little fashion faux pas is a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the happiness of my husband.”

Myra didn’t miss a beat, “Really, Eva, you would think by now that you would have learned that sometimes what makes our husbands happy is what we tell them makes them happy.”

Eva couldn’t think of any way to return that volley without outright arguing with Myra, so she simply said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yes,” Myra said as her eyes turned towards the crowd, “Well, I see that Mr. Olsen and his wife are here.”

And, with that, Myra walked away.

Eva rolled her eyes and went back to watching the cake walk. People sauntered in a slow circle while music played, cakes placed at strategic locations within the perimeter. She found her lips pulling to a smile when one or two of the participants slowed around the cakes they wanted, sighing in defeat as the music continued to play.

A few bars later, the sound system cut off and cheers of triumph mixed together with groans of disappointment. The winners got their prize and the kids got their donations.

Everyone was happy.

At the door, people continued to wander in. Some of them were holding raffle tickets, most were looking around in excitement. Eva realized that none of the people in the room were children. The whole event was supposed to be about funding treatment for sick kids and not a one of those kids was present.

Her confusion was cut off when Josh walked in, teeth flashing in a wide grin. He was wearing a blue plaid suit that stuck out among the more demure color palette around him. As he walked around, people stopped to talk with him and he met each and every one of them with a warm handshake.

She could feel her mouth turning down in a frown. He was so good at it: talking to people he didn’t know, complimenting the wives of the people he did. Making others like him so much that they didn’t see the monster beneath.

Sickened by the sight of him, Eva spun around and focused on her wine. It was nothing special—she had better at the house—but it would eventually dull the ache of disgust in her chest and that was enough for her. She finished one glass and was just starting in on the second when the lights dimmed.

Looking over her shoulder, Eva caught the emcee striding onto the stage, heard him announce that the bachelor’s auction would be starting soon. She almost scoffed, barely caught herself before she remembered that there were people in the room that might see her. A quick glance around told her that her disdain had gone unnoticed.

She should at least try to put on a show. Just in case.

Settling into a relaxed pose, Eva pretended to listen to the emcee as he explained the rules. She laughed at all the appropriate times and smiled at the cheeky little grin he gave when he talked about the ‘date’. If Eva were there by herself, if Josh and Myra were far away, she might be entertained by the way the contestants were all standing awkwardly in the back, by the way the ladies in the room were already sizing them up.

Eva blinked rapidly as a scent teased her nose. There were a lot of people in the room, a lot of perfumes and colognes that made it difficult to home in on one in particular. She would have dismissed it as a figment of her imagination if it didn’t get steadily stronger.

Tobacco and vetiver.

She hadn’t thought about him in days—too wrapped up in her own bullshit to remember that there was a big fucking problem that she hadn’t yet dealt with. And now every breath she drew was dripping in him.

Someone sat down at on the stool next to her and Eva’s eyes closed against the knowledge of who it was. She should get up and move closer to the stage. She should put in a bigger effort to support her husband.

Eva didn’t move.

Knowing that it was a bad idea, she turned away from the emcee and his jokes, ostensibly to order another glass of wine. To her left, a man sat with his forearms leaned on the bar. Tan skin led to wide palms that led to surprisingly fine-boned fingers.

The bartender set down Eva’s glass and addressed the newcomer, “What’ll you have?”

“A beer,” he intoned, “please.”

For fuck’s sake, Claire, are you letting everyone in? Eva thought, unkindly.

The hair on her arms stood up at the sound of his voice. Gone was the sardonic tone, the bluster. Eva glanced at him. He was wearing a simple button up shirt and slacks, looked nothing like the last time she’d seen him. Sitting beside her was once again the man on the sidewalk.

“What are you doing here?” Eva asked, too curious to keep her mouth shut.

He wasn’t looking at her when he replied, “Seems like the whole city is here. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t live here.”

“I do now.”

“For how long?” Her voice was terse, angry. “Your...business arrangement is taken care of.”

He laughed softly, “Not quite.”

The bartender placed a beer on the bar and rightly read the tension between them. He quickly busied himself with cleaning glasses that were already spotless.

Eva cut a look at him, “What does that mean?”

Whatever he might have said was cut off by the sound of applause as the bidding started. Eva ran a hand over her face as if to physically swipe away her frustration. She didn’t have the luxury of making a scene at the moment.

“Is this what Americans do for entertainment?”

Eva’s mouth opened, her answer stalling as she caught the amusement in his expression, “Um, no?”

He eyed the crowd, “They are enjoying themselves.”

She couldn’t say that he was wrong. People were laughing and jeering as the bids were made, money waving in well manicured hands. They looked like they were having all kinds of fun.

“Yeah, I guess they are.”

He looked at her carefully, “And, you’re sitting here.”

Eva met his glance, “I am.”

“Why?”

She drank from her glass, uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare. He let the silence hang while the next bachelor was called to the stage.

Then, “I see rings on the hands of most of those men. Their wives aren’t upset that they are being sold?”

Eva couldn’t help the way she laughed at his honest question, “Its just pretend. They pay to go on an outing with one of the men, but its not real.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

“The money helps with buying medicine for sick kids. All of that is just a game they play so they can have a little fun with the donation.”

There was a pause, followed by, “You’re not playing the game.”

Eva, who had been watching a middle aged woman holler at the emcee to make sure he saw her bid, whipped her head around and stared at him, “No. I’m not playing the game, Mr. Jimenez.”

He flinched.

Good.

Eva sipped her wine, wishing that she had feigned sick so that she wouldn’t be sitting on that stupid barstool next to a man whose smell was so at odds with his actions that she couldn’t make heads or tails of him.

“Why are you here?”

He hesitated a beat, “When you want to know what kind of people you’re dealing with, put them in a room full of money.”

Eva shot him a look, then quickly dropped her eyes to her half empty glass.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Her voice was too high pitched to be innocent and she could feel an embarrassed heat creep up her neck.

“No,” he countered, “that wasn’t nothing.”

Eva shook her head, “It was just an inside thought.”

Oh, my God. Why did you say that? Eva chided herself. She hadn’t talked about inside thoughts since—anyway, she shouldn’t have said it.

“What is an inside thought?”

He had to ask. Of course he had to ask. It didn’t make sense for him not to ask.

Eva shook her head, looking anywhere but at the man beside her.

Leaning into her space, his voice dropped low, “Tell me, what is it?”

Against her will, Eva found herself saying, “Its a thought that should probably be kept inside—you know, inside.”

He lifted his brows, non-verbally asking for more.

She struggled to form the thought into something coherent, “Its not something you should say in polite company.”

Mouth lifting in half a smile, he joked, “I don’t know that I am polite company.”

There was a challenge in that statement that was reflected in his eyes. Eva let that challenge hold for as long as she could before she sighed and picked up her glass, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with until you’re in a room full of money and a gun. That was the thought. Happy?”

He surprised her by leaning back a little and saying, “Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re right.”

She frowned, “I’m what?”

The glass in his hand tipped back and he took a long pull, “You’re right. You don’t know who you’re dealing with until you have motive and a weapon.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “You sound like a cop.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t let my men hear you say that.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

The emcee announced the next bachelor and Eva’s ear caught on Josh’s name. Accomplished businessman. Proud member of the Masons. Board certified medical doctor—careful ladies, he’s married! She smiled awkwardly as eyes turned towards her, blew Josh a good natured kiss just for show. He caught it mid-air and stowed it away in his breast pocket for safekeeping.

More pretending.

The attention of the crowd returned to the stage and Eva felt safe enough to turn back to her drink. She drained the glass and signaled the bartender for another.

“So you are playing the game.”

Eva leveled a baleful look at him, “Don’t pretend you’re not.”

“I at least admit it from time to time.”

“I’m not—,” she took a calming breath, “Surviving is not a game.”

Eva had no idea why she was admitting that to him. She had no idea why she was letting him draw her out. It had to be something about the way his scent called to her, the way it made her feel cosseted and safe. Yes. It was his scent. That’s all it was.

This is dangerous.

“No,” he whispered, “its not.”

Josh’s ending bid was two hundred dollars, an amount that he seemed proud to have garnered. Eva didn’t even bother to figure out who had won. She simply smiled and pretended that she was happy for him.

The next bachelor was called up. Mr. Dorset was one of the new pharmacists in the parish. Ardent hadn’t yet pulled him into the fold, but Eva knew it was only a matter of time. Josh would work his magic eventually.

Young, good looking, and shy. His shoulders rose up a little bit at the wolf whistle he earned from someone who might have been drinking a bit too much.

Beside her, Mr. Jimenez threw back the rest of his beer. He paid the bartender with a crisp one hundred dollar bill—no change.

Turning to Eva, he said, “I lied. You don’t know someone until you’re standing between someone the thing they can’t live without.”

What the fuck does that mean?

Eva watched him stride away, his broad shoulders maneuvering through the crowd easier than Myra’s confident stride. As he disappeared, she felt something inside her come unmoored. The whole conversation felt like it had never happened, like it had been a dream.

But, it was real.

It happened.

Sniffing, Eva blinked rapidly and folded her irrational panic up into a little envelope to be opened later. She turned to see that Mr. Dorset’s winning bid was five hundred dollars. He smiled and blushed and dipped his chin, waving his thanks to Peggy.

Behind him, Josh pushed his hands into his pockets. He was smiling, but his expression was carved in stone.

Eva felt her stomach drop. She paid the bartender and slid from her seat. Walking along the perimeter, Eva took her place next to her husband. She made small talk and little jokes to keep everyone from noticing how quiet her husband had become. When his hand encircled her wrist, squeezing tightly, she played pretend that it didn’t hurt.

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #AU #a/b/o dynamics #maurice compte

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nimbus-cloud · 2 months

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Nothing reminds me more that everyone is too busy, too burnt out, too tired than when I try to organize anything with a group.

And as much as I'm trying to give people grace about their personal life... it does eventually get extremely frustrating for me because I end up with 95% of the work and emotional labor.

Twice now, I've organized group gift projects for someone, that presumably WE ALL LIKE, and it is an absolute nightmare trying to get people to contribute the bare minimum (AFTER they enthusiastically said they were interested and wanted to be involved). Like, I do all the organizing! I do all the planning! I do the packing, the ordering, the logistics, whatever it takes! All I need from most everyone else usually is just... an opinion. Or even just confirmation that they're NOT interested in participating.

I wanted to make a group gift for a retiring director, and since we all worked for her and since we all profess to like her, I got buy-in from literally every other manager that they were interested in putting together a nice present for her last year as Director. A nice scrapbook project with photos and letters, and everyone just had to give their photos and letters to me, and I would make the scrapbook. I would compile it all. I would do the giftwrap, whatever. And even with a group chat going for NINE months, we are now one month away from the deadline of The Gift Must Be Given and I have nothing. Nobody gave me anything. I pinged them repeatedly for months and now it is too late for me to make anything, so I have to pivot to us all just buying something from a list and making a gift basket.

There are like 12 people involved and absolutely nobody gave me anything to work with. Even though they all loved the idea nine months ago. And even had suggestions! And now I have nothing. And now I've linked a gift list and my paypal address for the indecisive folks or the ones who want to contribute a portion to something bigger, and even still, only about half the people have actually replied.

I am still the one who has to put it all together. I am still the one who spent the hours finding a basket and gift wrapping and spent an hour writing a heartfelt letter. And all they have to do is buy something and let me know what they bought so that I know to expect it in the mail.

Probably half of them will forget to actually write something into a card.

This is also... the second time I've tried to organize a group present and the first time went... just as annoyingly.

And it makes me sad because it's supposed to be this project of positivity. It's supposed to be this nice thing that we all pitch in to for someone we all care about. And I tried to make it as frictionless as possible. As low effort as possible. It was my idea, so I took on the burden of organizing and arranging and pinging people in 3 different chats. And the fact that people STILL just leave me on Read for over a week makes me feel like nobody cares. Why am I trying so hard? And then at the end of all this, if we have anything at all to give her, it'll be presented as something "from all of us" even though 99% of the labor will have been mine.

It's supposed to be a nice thing, and I'm just left feeling bitter about it all.

#personal #venting #I know this all comes from a place of privilege

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littleflowerblogspot · 5 months

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How to Improve Your Skills in Super Smash Bros Ultimate

A quite literal guide to improve skill and longevity while playing Super Smash Bros Ultimate. *Based on a true story and real observations*

The Beginning

It all started at the beginning of this year. My friend group has played lots of games together to include Mario Kart, Overcooked, Jackbox, and various other card games. But something felt different when our friend Myles took out his Switch and offered up the idea to play Super Smash Bros. There are five of us, including Myles, but only he truly knew the complexities of the game. Clouded by the little experience we’ve had from previous instances in our past, we all decided to play. It went, as any experienced Smash player could guess,…horribly. We all died swiftly. Myles being the last man standing with a full stock of lives left.

I don’t take too kindly to losing and after a few rounds of what felt like endless and inevitable defeat. I gave up. I could feel the true effort that it would take to even try to beat someone with so much more experience than me. So instead of learning the game myself, I decided to sit back and watch my friends dawn on the adventure to hone their skills.

From these observations my friends fulfilled these 4 Smash player archetypes…

The Emperor

Myles represents the Emperor. In the friend group's eyes he was not only the best but the best you could ever get. Definitely an older brother vibe. While playing against him it seemed as though he knew our every move and knew exactly what to do to win. 1 against 3 looked like a fun skip through the park for him. When questioning him on why he was so good all he could answer was time and practice. He had been playing Smash for a while, accumulating over 600 hours played, and has basically memorized every character and their preset moves, powers, and quirks. He served as a true inspiration for the rest of my friends to improve their skills.

The Knight

Ryan represents the Knight. While highly enthused at first, Ryan quickly grew to despise the game. Figuring that inorder for the game to actually be fun and enjoyable you’d have to put in a significant amount of time and effort to learn the characters, the moves, and to be able to predict other players' attacks and counter attacks. While stating his dislike for the game, he used that distaste as a sort of inspiration to get better at the game. Outside of the group he spent his time trying out different characters with different presets against countless CPU’s to see what felt right to him. After months of practice and play, his hard work has paid off being able to beat Myles (with or without the help of the others) almost every 2 games.

The Magician

Adam represents the Magician. This is everyone's younger brother, just there to fuck around and have fun. Spamming and making a joke around every combo. There are no tactics to how he plays, but if there was he would strategically be playing as unpredictable as possible. This ensures that other players don’t properly know how to play against his moves because he's not using any typical combos. Yet this isn't what he's doing, he's just playing around purposefully being annoying. But still after months of constant playing I saw that he also improved, though in a way that almost seemed magic. He started winning just enough games to actually quantify being significantly better than terrible.

The Fool

This was me, this is you, and it’s also what my friend Max represents. After all this time we are just as confused, losing half of our lives to falling off the map, losing our placement on the screen, and used as a shield for other more experienced players. Sadly we have to realize that sometimes it's ok and come to terms with the fact that maybe not every game is for us.

The End

In the end there is only one clear and guaranteed way of improving your skills in Super Smash Bros Ultimate. And that is…time. Well lots of time and lots of effort. It's not just gonna magically click for you, like every other great game and every other craft or skill it takes time, effort, and practice to become skilled. And for a game as large and customizable as Smash expect at least 5 months of almost daily play in order to beat a Lv. 9 CPU.

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lovecolibri · 10 months

Note

SaL anon here my friend, saying hi after a long absence!! I don't know why this summer is kicking my ass so much, I've been in a rut of absolute apathy about everything, including putting in the effort to rewatch my comfort shows. But things are getting better and sometimes its the small things that get you back up (for me specifically its the return of Puppet History, an absolute gem I highly recommend).

Anywho hope the summer is going well for you despite the summer and global warming of it all. Don't know about you but I'm still pretty bitter about 911 and really the way so many of the shows we've enjoyed were mishandled so badly. And with the writers and actors (very rightfully) on strike it could be awhile before we get any sort of idea what's going to happen in s7 so I figure we've got time to get some of that bitterness out through some salty competitions. So to start which series finale had the worse ending, RNM or 911 (I know 911 isn't over but its over on fox so it kinda counts)? A lengthy justification of your choice is encouraged!!

Hello friend! I got this while I was out of town at a concert with my mom so I'm just getting around to this today. I also thought this summer was going to be Super Chill and Time To Catch Up On Things but we have been weirdly SO BUSY every weekend and had numerous unexpected Things happen (the fridge went out, thought it was fixed, it went out again, one of the cats had to go to the emergency vet an hour away and is now on new special food forever etc) and it's not slowing down any time soon! Sorry you're in your apathy rut era, I was absolutely there too recently so I know what that's like! I hope you can find some joy again soon! (I know everyone else Hates Summer, but I love not being cold all the time and heat and sunshine are what give me life so I'm currently on a slightly more energized kick which I'm going to try and use to Get Some Shit Done in regards to home improvement and self-care.)

I haven't ever watched Puppet History but it sounds delightful and with the strikes going on (take 'em down WAG/SAG AFTRA!) I'm sure I will be finding time to watch all the things I never got around to. I'm currently nearly finished with Resident Alien which has been a delight, and me and my mom are watching White Collar which has been a lot of fun for us.

Okay, now time for The Salt Mine.

It's funny that you bring up the RNM finale because I JUST saw a post the other day of Malex comparison kisses but the one they used from the finale is a wide shot and LITERALLY the main color focus drawing the eye in the shot is that goddamn fucking red dress under the bright lights of the bar, and only then, second, is the pink light Malex is under while in the darker, shadowed part of the bar. Sooooo I've been feeling salty about that for daaaaays.

It's a tough call to pit these two against each other because 911 literally shoved Buck and Eddie into "endgame" relationships with random characters they have zero chemistry with and that we know next to nothing about (Marisol) or everything we know is Not Great (Natalia). They really thought this was the end of the show and would rather waste time on these side characters and forcing these relationships rather than focus on the firefam and found family of it all and showing the core cast of characters TOGETHER as a FAMILY in the end. They rushed through the emergency and the feels we SHOULD have spent time on with everyone being hurt and seeing the firefam worry about and fight to rescue each other, all so KR could have time to (poorly) wrap up the 7000 plotlines she made for Buck because she apparently doesn't like or care about any of the other characters and only cares about Buck insofar as she can make jokes about his junk and sex life and how she can use his character to insert new ones she wants to have instead of using the characters she already has. However, despite all that mess, there WERE some good moments in the finale for the firefam and the bridge collapse was good, if too short to do what it was intended to do. 911's practical effects have ALWAYS been a highlight of the show and one of the things that makes it great so it was good to see some effort put into that side of the show again.

But, even with all the missteps of the 911 finale, RNM fumbled the ball on literally EVERYTHING in their finale. There was a Malex wedding, but it focused entirely on Michael and we didn't get to see Alex's POV on anything (not even anything about being on death's doorstep and magically being healed which happened entirely off screen and we didn't get to hear from Alex about it at all) except how he was perfectly happy having NONE of his family there for the wedding because god forbid m*ria be uncomfortable for 5 seconds because everything is about HER and how SHE feels 🙄🙄🙄 We got more focus on m*ria than we did Alex at his own goddamn wedding! And aside from that whole mess, the finale also separated Max and Liz, the supposed main couple of the show! The show ended forever with the lead in tears as Max goes to an alien planet for who knows how long! WTF kind of ending is that?! The show really made it hard to root for Max and Liz because the writing for them was just...not what it needed to be, but Jeanine and NDP had great chemistry and when they let them be in love they had some GREAT moments. I just wanted to root for them more but they constantly put them on opposite sides of every little thing they came across so they were never really able to work TOGETHER on anything and it was frustrating. Even so, I wanted a better ending for them after seasons of fighting and being so on again/off again the whole time. Jeanine especially got screwed over in what SHOULD have been Liz's show and I hate that being left behind was her ending. And that's not even going into all the plotholes and storylines the show just half-assed or flat out didn't address, and things that got dropped along the way and never explained. I know I say it A Lot about 911, but good god, the RNM cast, characters, and the base storylines they started the show with deserved SO much better than what they got consistently from the s1 finale through the end of the show.

Despite all of 911s flaws and faults, I still think they can come back from it all if they go back to the formula used in the early seasons for pacing and storyline distribution and focus on the firefam as a unit together, and given that the issues brought up by fans were pretty similar across all platforms and mirrored oftentimes by professional reviews, there's some hope for change moving forward on a new network. If RNM had been given another season I'm sure they still would not have resolved any of the plotholes and would probably have just made them worse while creating new ones 🤷🏻‍♀️

So I have to go with RNM for having the worst finale but damn if 911 didn't give it a run for it's money!

I was good hearing from you my friend! I had high hopes to work on my Countdowns fic this summer but I just have not had a weekend to myself! My niece will be visiting this whole week and my nephew is due to arrive in August but may come earlier, plus I'm working on getting out of town for some shows (and out of state if I can swing it to see Ed Sheeran), and working on some remodel work in my bedroom so we'll see when things start to slow down if I have any brain power left to write, much less do any of the other craft projects I have pending! I am confident I will get the baby blanket I'm working on done in time but everything else is up in the air. Remember when summer was time to relax? Anyway, I am ALWAYS here for your salty thoughts or anything else you wanna talk about. In the meantime, lets all manifest a good outcome for the striking workers!

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #roswell nm #roswell nm my behated #still and forever salty

0 notes

sentinelpri · 3 years

Text

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features.

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned.

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face.

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick.

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence.

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

#tfa #transformers animated #transformers #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime x reader #tfa ratchet #ratchet #fanfiction #request #requests

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

Dolls AU: Swap Day

It was a great plan. In theory.

Chaton had been with Marinette since he was created. And Littlebug had literally been made for Adrien.

And while they had many days where they spent time together all four of them, or both dolls went with one of the two heroes, usually they found themselves falling back to that routine.

It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t care about Littlebug. Or that Adrien didn’t care about Chaton. They both did care, and very much in fact! But they had spent so long with one doll each and had gotten used to it, that it hadn’t really struck them to spend some individual time with the other doll.

That was why they would be doing this now.

This weekend, they would each be spending a day with the other’s doll for bonding time! Adrien was excited. Marinette was nervously anticipating. Tikki was worried. And Plagg was...well...Plagg, so other than making sure to stockpile cheese and a place to hide from what he deemed the “sappiness”, he didn’t care.

And thus, they planned for a free full day of bonding and fun! Guaranteed!

______________________

Littlebug was not having a good time.

It wasn’t Mama’s fault. Mama was wonderful. She didn’t want her or anyone to think otherwise.

But…

She wasn’t often away from Papa.

And she certainly wasn’t away from Chaton AND Papa.

She couldn’t help but think about them. And worry. Were they okay? Were they having fun? Was Papa’s Father needing another night in the big trash bin again?

She looked out the window at the stormy dark skies and her own sad reflection. She was trying not to think about them, but couldn’t not think about them. And the raininess was only making it worse since the two left in the wet and ickiness and she couldn’t go with them to protect them or make them feel better. It was making her sad and worried.

Marinette, for her part, was also worried. This bonding day wasn’t really off to a great start. First with the rainstorm, which made the day somewhat dreary and kept them from being able to spend time outside. Then with Littlebug seeming rather distant.

She bit her lip, feeling uncertain. She glanced to Tikki in hopes of some suggestion, but even the kwami didn’t seem to have any ideas as she simply shrugged.

Littlebug only continued to look out the window, almost wistfully.

“Hey, Littlebug.” Marinette said as she approached the doll. “Are you feeling all right?”

A moment passed as Littlebug thought it over before she looked up at Marinette with a frown.

“I guess you miss Adrien and Chaton, too, huh?” Marinette ventured.

The doll nodded.

“Well, you and I can spend the day together doing just about anything—within reason, of course.” Marinette smiled. “So how would you like it if we made something for them that you could give when we see them next? Would that make you feel better?”

Littlebug paused at that, looking up at Marinette in surprise and a bit of enthusiasm.

Really? Would it be okay?

“Of course!” Marinette replied. “This is your day with me. If you want to make something, we certainly can do that!”

This seemed to brighten Littlebug’s mood as she nodded eagerly.

The hope was that she could spend time with Littlebug that was just between them. But for now, Littlebug was still focused on Adrien and Chaton.

At the very least, they could turn that focus into something productive!

So Marinette showed Littlebug some of her crochet supplies and helped her learn some basic stitching. Littlebug took to it quite happily...at least at first.

But Littlebug was getting frustrated with each mistake she made.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Marinette assured her.

Littlebug frowned up at her, clearly unimpressed.

Because it had to be perfect! It’s for Papa!

Marinette smiled. Littlebug was so much like herself. They both had that same sense of determination and perfectionist tendencies.

...given Marinette’s issues, it’d probably be best to nip that in the bud.

“He’ll love anything you make.”

Littlebug pouted. It seemed she still wasn’t convinced.

Marinette hugged her. “You know, there may be mistakes in what you make, but those are just indicators that it was made by you with love.” She gave Littlebug a squeeze. “Adrien will see that. And it’ll matter all the more to him because you made it for him out of love.”

Littlebug stared up at Marinette as if in awe. Her eyes almost seemed to shine.

“Adrien doesn’t get many things. So he appreciates what he’s given. The little mistakes show the effort you put into your gifts and that you were thinking of him.

Okay.

Littlebug nodded resolutely, determined to see this through.

Then she would be sure to make tons of mistakes to let Papa know she loved him!

“Wait—that’s not what I meant!” Marinette cried.

Tikki giggled.

Still, it made Littlebug feel more at ease and the two worked together on their projects in easy companionship.

“I wonder how the boys are doing…”

Littlebug looked up at that. She tilted her head in curiosity.

Marinette smiled down at Littlebug.

“I’m sure they’re okay.”

Littlebug smiled back up at her and nodded.

________________________

Adrien was not okay.

“Chaton! Chaton, buddy? Where are you?”

It was his day to spend one on one time with Chaton, but sure enough, his ever-dreaded schedule had inconveniently intervened at the worst time, dragging him away from his room and from Chaton for over an hour. Now that he returned, Chaton was nowhere to be seen. It hadn’t even been an hour since Marinette had entrusted him to her care and he had lost him.

Marinette was going to kill him.

“Kid?” Plagg questioned after having watched Adrien tearing up his room for a good 15 minutes.

“I messed up, Plagg. I completely messed up!” Adrien moaned as he slumped onto his bed. “Now I can’t find Chaton! He could be anywhere!”

He gasped, starting to panic.

“What if he got out? What if he’s outside? It’s RAINING outside, Plagg!”

“I can see that.”

“What if he thought I abandoned him and left?! What if he’s all alone? WHAT IF SOMEONE KIDNAPPED HIM?!”

“Kid.”

“What do I do?! Where do I even start looking?!”

“Kid.”

“What if he’s hurt? Or scared? Oh my god, Plagg, what if he’s injured and crying and needing me to find him?!”

“ADRIEN!”

Adrien spun around immediately to see a floating and very unimpressed Plagg staring flatly at him.

“What?!”

“It’s raining.”

Adrien blinked. “Okay?”

Plagg sighed. “Where do little kitties like to go when it rains?”

Adrien frowned at that. “I don’t know…someplace dark and dry?”

Plagg sighed and rolled his eyes.

“When it’s wet and humid and I don’t feel well, where do I like to go?”

Adrien thought for a moment. “Well, you go to my sock draw...oh.”

He stood and headed for his drawer, which he only now noticed was slightly open. Not all the way, but just enough to provide some cover.

And sure enough, there laid a particularly tired Chaton nestled among Adrien’s socks.

________________________

Chaton didn’t like rainy days.

They were icky. They smelled bad and came with a dampness that got everywhere. Especially when he had to go out in the rain for any length of time. It was as if the mugginess clung to him even once he was inside. It was bad and it made him feel bad. Like he was smothered in a wetness that wasn’t really wet and he couldn’t wipe away.

It hadn’t helped that he and Papa had to go out in the rain to get from Mama’s home to Papa’s house. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t stay completely dry. And the rain just seemed to follow them.

When they had gotten to Papa’s room, they both worked to dry off. Even so, the unpleasant feeling remained.

His day with Papa had just started and Chaton was already not happy.

Then the Cold Lady called. Papa had to leave, so it was just Chaton and the ickiness.

Normally, he would have played and waited.

But it was wet. It was wet and miserable and Chaton was miserable and now he was alone.

Papa was gone and even Kitty was gone, too.

That just left Chaton to find some comfort for himself. A nice dry place. A place that can take the ickiness away.

He couldn’t go to the Fort. Littlebug and the King and Queen weren’t there and he didn’t want to get the walls damp or icky.

The bed might work, but it was too big and open. It just wasn’t enough.

He missed Mama. When it was rainy and icky, he could lay on her lap and she would pet him till he felt better.

He wanted to curl up. He wanted a dry small comforting place. Like his bed. Or his Box. But those were at Mama’s home and he was here.

There was only one place he could think of.

It took some effort to pull out the drawer. Chaton was tired by the end and he had only managed to pull it out maybe a third of the way. Fortunately, it was enough for him to slip inside. He’d gotten through thinner openings and hidden in smaller boxes before.

If I fits I sits, Mama had said.

He didn’t know what it meant, but if it got him where he wanted to be, it was good enough.

He was able to climb up and over, landing inside the drawer and on top of the soft sockies. They were smaller than the bedsheets and able to be moved much more easily, so he curled up and shuffled around until a little nest of sockies buffered him on all sides to protect him from the ickiness outside.

It wasn’t as good as Mama’s home. But it was comforting.

Chaton slept.

Suddenly there was noise.

Footsteps.

Papa’s voice. He sounded upset. Chaton felt bad and wanted to check on him, but that required moving.

It came closer.

Then it went away.

Then there were sounds outside his hiding place. Sounds of things being moved or shuffled around.

Footsteps came back.

Suddenly there were hands.

Warm hands.

Hands that were trying to take him from his nice dry place.

Nooooo

Wet. Icky. Rainy. Sleepy. Cold.

Cold.

Warm hands. Cold everything else.

He didn’t like it.

He fussed.

“Hang on a second.”

But it was icky!

A sound of cloth moving.

The hands were putting him down. The warm hands. The only warm and dry thing! He clutched them desperately.

Suddenly—soft below him. Warm everywhere else.

He opened his eyes. Pillow below him. Soft fluffy nice feeling. Blankets hanging around him. Enclosing him in warm dry comfy-ness.

Chaton sighed in contentment and nuzzled into the nest of pillows and blankets, surrounded by even more blankets to keep out the icky feeling. He was feeling sleepy now—but a good sleepy! Not the icky sleepy. What was this? What had Papa done?

Adrien knelt in the enclosed space, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There we go! One blanket fort for a rainy day! What do you think, Chaton?”

He liked it.

Chaton purred.

Papa curled up next to him inside the enclosure.

“The storm should pass in an hour or two. I think we can do with a nap until then.”

Chaton liked that idea.

The warmth before was nice but this was better.

Then Papa started to purr.

Chaton shifted to get closer to the vibrations. It was nice. Soothing.

Papa’s arm curled around him, making Chaton feel even more nice and good sleepy.

“I don’t know why you were panicking so much, kid. Cats are easy to please.”

“I just don’t want to mess up, Plagg.”

Papa was silly. He wasn’t messing up at all.

Chaton loved Papa bunches. Bunches and bunches!

Before he completely nodded off, Chaton’s tail curled over Papa’s arm.

In a couple hours, they could play. But for now, Chaton liked spending his time with Papa just fine like this.

#ml fic #ml fluff #dolls au #littlebug and chaton noir #littlebug #chaton noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #plagg #Tikki

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

a nice break

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3k

keigo really is just such a good boy for you, isn't he?

warnings: peggings, strap ons, wing kink, praise kink, spit kink, sub hawks, soft hawks, light religious imagery in the literal imagery, aftercare

enjoy some subby hawks pegging ;^)))

||||||||||||||

Keigo had the prettiest voice.

Fuck whatever ‘bird of prey’ act he put on, the man was a songbird like no other. Perhaps not always, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get him to sing either. Unabashed pleasure would send Keigo into fits of cries and lamentations.

“Oh fuck, please—!” Keigo’s voice broke above you. He was straining so hard to keep any semblance of usual composure despite his wrecked state. It wasn’t like it was doing him much good with how beyond fucked out he was, but you appreciated the effort.

How long had you had him bouncing on your strap? Long enough that he had begged you to let him rest, his wobbly legs growing weak despite their tone and muscle. Yet, not long enough to award him a moment of respite. You had rolled your hips up, jamming your metaphorical thick cock against his prostate as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Keigo’s face had grown bright red, freckles dimming with the flush of his cheeks. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, drool escaping from the corners of his lips. He occasionally tried to wipe up the bodily filth on his face, but the action only served to make him even more of a mess. Keigo didn’t mean to, but his subtle, cute actions just debauched him more.

Keigo had a tendency to be a brat. That was just his private personality. Effortlessly laid back charm was a face he wore incredibly well for the public, but in the solace of his penthouse apartment, the man was a raging devil.

He typically took the lead on things. Throwing you up over tables and counters with the help of his wings, fucking you stupid without a second thought.

You loved it. Immensely.

Nothing made you soak yourself more than being on your knees for Keigo just before he would fuck your face in earnest, cooing and praising about how well you took his cock. He loved to see you sloppy for him, demanding and pushing and pulling you whatever way suited his pleasure (and yours as well, of course.)

But you also loved seeing Keigo sloppy. You relished getting to break him down, picking at his crafted facade with personal pleasures you made all for him, and you made sure to tell him so.

Keigo loved to praise you, any time, not just in bed. He’d tell you what a good girl you were while spanking his hand on your backside for the umpteenth time, you teary-eyed and half-sobbing. He’d coo about how beautiful you were while he fucked you into yet another orgasm with his crooked fingers. He’d smooth you over and tell you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, as you cuddled into each other, fucked out, boneless and brainless. He’d come up behind you while you cooked dinner, kissing at your neck and whispering about how kind of partner you were. He’d grab your hand in public to lay gentle kisses over your knuckles, speaking lowly about how he cherished you and the time you were able to spend together.

It took you a while into your relationship to realize that Keigo also fed off praise. He showered you with love and compliments and craved receiving similar affections.

And, you weren’t one to deny him.

“Come on, Kei’, you can do it, you’re such a good boy,” You crooned, pushing your hips to press the thick dildo deeper in him.

Keigo sputtered, his hands flying to your chest for purchase, lip wobbling. His eyes flicked to meet your own, widened and pleading.

You just smirked.

“Keep going if you want to come.”

He cried out, lowering his head and wiping at the different smears of fluid that wetted his face. Slowly, he raised himself up, thighs trembling with exertion and exhaustion.

You tucked your arms behind your head, truly getting off on the beautiful sight before you.

Keigo looked god-like most of the time, all feathered and blood-colored. He was sculpted like a marble statue; sometimes, you felt unfit of touching him. Yet, you debauching him was one of your favorite acts. Turning Keigo into some defiled deity riding the silicone cock of a mortal, divine, crimson wings a backdrop to ambrosian pleasures that only the two of you knew. Despite how bratty he was, he loved falling apart while you fucked his cute little hole numb.

Keigo rode your cock so well, he knew it, you told him so. Despite how much his body ached and how he was chasing orgasm but never catching it, he tried really, really hard to make you happy. You could see it in the way how each of his actions was followed by an expectant look, delivered to you with puffy, kiss-bruised lips.

Who would’ve thought Hawks was a crybaby when getting fucked so well?

Below him, you smiled, languidly playing with your own sex while drowning in Keigo’s image. Your own slick coated your thighs, wetting your puffy clit as you stroked yourself slowly to Keigo’s display.

His cock was swollen, bright red, and weeping preek. The ring at its base was wet with lube, tightly holding Keigo back from any sort of proper satisfaction. All the while, his cock was so much more sensitive, not to mention how you’d been teasing him for what felt like hours. You wondered if Keigo felt edged or overstimulated. You could only hope that it was both.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, moaning with Keigo in tandem. He wailed, voice shattering into pleads and begs for “more, please, more!” as you fucked his cock with your hand. He was so slicked and hot, weeping for release in more ways than one.

You removed your fingers from your own sex, frowning.

The slick covered fingers pressed at Keigo’s parted lips. He opened his mouth for you, letting you fuck his mouth with the digits, pressing gently on his tongue and the back of his throat. You felt the vibrations of his suppressed cries so well, it made your cunt ache.

“Good boys don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?” You taunted, pressing harder and pumping your hand faster around Keigo’s cock.

Keigo screamed against your fingers, sweaty locks falling over his eyes as he shook his head. With all of his hero-refined skills, his thin hips couldn’t figure out how to both fuck down on the strap and fuck into your hand. The infuriating amount of stimulation without a thread of relief made tears leak from Keigo’s eyes anew, running rivers down his cheeks and drip onto your torso.

“Aw, baby, why are you crying?” You loved teasing Keigo like this. He’d never let you do this shit to him unless he was this fucked out. You knew he liked it too, based on how the degradation made his cock throb in your grip.

You squeezed, rubbing a thumb at its leaky head. Keigo sobbed around your fingers, “Pweaze! ”

“Pweaze’? ‘Pweaze’ what, baby? Use your words.” You sneered, watching spittle drip from his mouth onto your lap. To taunt him even more, you pressed your drenched fingers onto the back of his tongue as he tried to speak. Unintelligible, garbled syllables were all he could produce beyond chest sobs.

He just looked at you helplessly, nails digging into your sides.

You relented, removing your fingers and wiping them onto Keigo’s swollen dick, still pumping it slowly.

“Please, let me come, please!” Keigo’s voice curled so well when he begged. You fucked up into him sharply, Keigo’s hands clawing into your ribs as he screamed in white-hot pleasure. His spent thighs trembled around your own, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion.

You ran a hand through his hair, feeling the layer of thin sweat and boiling heat. He leaned into your touch immediately, doughy and glassy-eyed.

Keigo was art, sculpted all for you. Any bits of his public, bastardseque persona had been ground away with pleasure and coaxing. He had fallen apart for you, gently pleading for release like it was a hymn to his god.

You crooked a smile.

“I don’t know, baby. Have been good enough to come?” You hummed, grinning smugly as Keigo’s expression fell. His lips moved in horror as he began blubbering, fucking himself again on the strap, harder, faster, and with more vigor than before.

“I have b-been, I’ve been good!” Keigo sobbed, rubbed at his eyes as one of his legs gave out no a particularly rough thrust. Your hand slid up to support the spent muscles, knowing he was beginning to reach his limits.

“Tell me how and you can come, Keigo,” You said his name so sweetly, you felt another flood of pre dribbled sticky from his cock, “Tell me how you’re such a good boy, for me, Keigo.”

He shook his head, breathing harshly, but still managing to fuck himself half-heartedly. He bit his lip as he looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, wings fluttering at his back.

It gave you an idea.

You’d pay for it later, but that was a future problem.

All contact with Keigo’s cock and body went away, holding your hands on your chest, slowly rolling your hips and strap into Keigo’s tight hole.

You stilled for just a moment, drinking him in.

Your hands shot out, just brushing against Keigo’s sides before burying themselves at the tender roots of his wings.

“F-Fuck!” Keigo wailed, bowing his back and falling against your chest, unable to hold himself upright.

You adjusted your legs, allowing yourself to still fuck into Keigo. Even better, this position perfectly allowed you to ram his most sensitive spot, sobs and cries muffled into the skin of your chest. He pawed at one of your tits half-heartedly, but you knew he didn’t really have it in him.

Pleads and cries for mercy spilled from his lips as you massaged at the base of his wings. The downy feathers were petal-soft, all the betters for rubbing deep into as Keigo twitched and wailed.

“Just tell me why you’re a good boy, Keigo, you’re so close,” You encouraged him, shifting so that his head was pressed into your neck. You felt his cock, hard and hot against your stomach. With this position, Keigo could rest his body to some degree. But, it provided an absolutely obscene amount of friction that would be damn-near brutal mentally.

His wings splayed out above the two of you, cocooning you in vibrant reds and scarlets as you thumbed at individual feathers. Keigo finally found his voice as you dragged the strap back from his hole.

“I-I ate your pussy really good,” Keigo’s voice was high, stumbling on his words.

You hummed appreciatively, scrapping your nails down thin bones of his wings. He arched against you, hands flying your hair and pulling. He broke into bawling, tears wetting your neck and the sheets beneath you.

You fucking loved it.

“I l-let you sit on my face, and let you fuck- ME!” Keigo howled as you dug into his feathers, tsking lightly.

“Up, baby. Sit up for me,” You commanded, though softly. Keigo slowly righted himself, shaking like a leaf. You could tell by the way he shifted his hips that he was more than a bit sore and overworked. Not to mention that his cock was turning darker red and bulging hotly by the minute.

“Those are all good things you did, but that’s not why you’re a good boy,” You trailed one of your hands down one of the lovely curves of his lower back, cupping his ass and squeezing.

He sputtered, shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, “Please, I’m sorry, just let me—”

You’d done this song and dance enough with Keigo to know the way to really get to his cock. After so much mental conditioning and training, parts of him were still left raw. To touch and stroke them just right was an art you had taken upon yourself to master and perfect. You’d do anything for Keigo, anything to help him chase pleasures that could be too fragile or fear-filled to voice.

“Keigo, you’re a good boy because you’re you,” You massaged at his aching, sore parts with warm hands. “You’re such a good boy for me, Kei’. You ride me so well. Can you just a little more?”

If Keigo hadn’t been fully crying, he was now.

He tearfully nodded, bouncing himself on the strap again, sending loud moans far and wide.

You helped him along, rolling your hips, “You’re such a sweet boy, Kei’. You sound so pretty when you wreck yourself for me.”

He keened.

The hand that wasn’t helping to hold him up went to palm at the head of his cock, “You are so sweet and so beautiful when you’re fucked out like this. All stupid for me, right, Kei’?”

You trailed a finger up his shaft as he drooled, eyes struggling to focus, “So good at listening and following my rules. Do you like being a good boy?”

He was fucked too silly to manage anything other than a nod.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You pumped his cock with your slick hand, almost mockingly.

“PLEASE!” Keigo screamed, nails breaking the skin of your breasts, but you could hardly care. His head bent forward as a mix of his tears, snot, and spit dripped between the two of you.

Keigo really did deserve it. You relented.

Your fingers dipped slipped the cock ring off in one motion, grabbing his face by the cheeks with the other hand, “Then, come for me, baby.”

And he did.

Keigo fucked himself down on the strap one final time before screaming in divine rapture.

He collapsed on top of you, crying out and curling into you as his cock sprayed your chests and thighs. Thick spurts of creamy cum dripped between the two of your bodies as Keigo rode out his orgasm, your hand still on his cock, milking him for all he had. Any words he tried to babble out were broken and meaningless, only serving to help Keigo release his pent up need for relief now that it was finally squashed.

You kept your hand wrapped around his cock, rolling your wrist from base to hip as Keigo rattled on top of your own sweaty frame.

He sniffled, pressing into your neck and weakly pushing your hand, “T-too much.”

You released him easily, shushing Keigo when he tried to move or assist you. You carefully slipped from his tight, lube-slicked hole and undid the harness of the strap on. Your own hips ached from exertion, skin bruised by the biting of the straps, but you were sure it was nothing compared to Keigo’s full-body ache. You’d had him every which way throughout the course of the night, you were sure he wouldn’t be standing correctly for a few days. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

You fell back with Keigo, pulling him to your chest. His head fell against you as his wings spread haphazardly and unsupported. For a moment, you worried he’d passed out, but a short groan and gentle squeeze proved you otherwise.

You set upon his trembling form with all the love you could show him.

“Oh, Keigo,” You peppered his forehead and hair with kisses as he hid his face at your sternum. “You did so well, you took me so, so well, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much, 'Kei.”

He nuzzled into you, making small noises with not much sense to them. You gave him a sympathetic smile, rubbing circles into his lower back, “Would you like some water, baby? Or do you want to wait a little longer?”

Keigo shook his head, weakly kissing the top of your breasts, “N-now, please.”

You grabbed a bottle on the nightstand, pre-chilled in preparation for the inevitable outcome. Keigo slowly rose when you offered the bottle to him, hardly going far before downing mo of the liquid in a few gulps. It was obvious he needed it with the harsh flush of his face and the sweat growing cold on his skin.

He passed the bottle back to you, nestling back into you as he did. His wings quivered as they covered your forms, plumage soft and twitching as Keigo sweetly came down from his overstimulation and mushy mental state.

You set upon him with more sweet kisses and enough praise to drown a man with an ego smaller than Keigo’s. It was all gentle, coaxing him from his mental fog with lots of obvious love and attention. Keigo didn’t fall into submissive headspaces easily and that made it all the more imperative to be deliberate and ginger with helping him out.

You started blowing and leaving kisses around his ears, making him jolt and giggle at you. It was something high and airy, a side only you got to see. You loved how it sounded and felt so close to you.

Keigo gently cupped your face, returning your affections, albeit weaker. With his sagging eyelids, he was clearly spent.

“Was all that okay? I know it was intense,” You asked, pressing into Keigo’s gesture. You needed a bit of extra attention too, and Keigo was more than willing to lavish you the best he could in his state.

All gooey himself, Keigo shook his head, wrapping his arms and legs around you in a tight embrace, “Very good. Still kinda fucked out though.”

“I can tell,” You laughed. You kissed into his honeyed hair, tangling your fingers to the scalp to massage and work any tension out of his neck. “Take all the time you need. I’m right here.”

Keigo purred around you, breaths evening out and slowing.

You silently slipped from the bed, running to the bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean him. When you re-entered the dimly lit room, Keigo was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and finishing his water.

Keigo cracked you a smile, as you came back to kneel on the bed. His voice was hoarse with its prior activities and expletives, “You know, I’m gonna get you back for all of that. Even worse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I look forward to it.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of Keigo’s mouth, urging him down to the sheets.

He didn’t fight you, but you were sure he would.

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #takami x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks reader insert #reader insert #hawks smut #mha smut #mha #bnha #takami keigo x y/n #i tried to write smut without a bunch of lead up i rlly did #soft hawks #sub hawks #sub takami keigo #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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