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selarina · 1 year

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The Ken to whose Barbie?

-> Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Summary: He's supposed to be Ken this Halloween, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he looks the part. But you insist that he does. He's blonde, he’s literally named Ken, and he's just oh so very handsome.

Tags: halloween party, established relationship, fluff, smut, jealously, alcohol use, spit kink, oral sex (f!receiving), implied (m!receiving) oral sex, kisses on the feet, bath scene, aftercare, she/her pronouns used for reader, unedited

Word Count: 2.5k words

Author's Note: wanted to release this on Friday the 13th but I couldn't :/ Also, sorry the smut was quick. I was horny and then I got un-horny

Read on AO3

"Wow, don't you look... flamboyant."

Shoko walked towards him as Nanami barely smiled. He greets her with a small nod. In truth, he feels absolutely fucking ridiculous in this outfit of his. He's supposed to be Ken, as in Barbie's Ken, but he doesn't think he exactly looks the part.

But you argued he does. He's blonde, he's named Kento, and he's oh so very handsome. Your words, not his. And so, of course, he agreed, albeit his reluctance.

“How have you been, Shoko-san?” Nanami inquires, hoping to divert her attention from his incongruous appearance.

"I've been good," she says, Shoko extinguishes her cigarette against the stone wall with an insouciant flick, her gaze sweeping from his exposed chest to the opulent fur draping him. "Did you lose a bet or something?"

"I do not engage in wagers," he says. "It's imprudent," he remarks.

Shoko smiles, ever so slightly. It's been years and yet some things don't change. She may not have an intimate understanding of him, not really, but she did know he would never show up in such an outfit, or in fact, any halloween outfit.

"It’s because of her, isn’t it?" Shoko probes.

He feels another of wave of chill wind hit chest, noticing the lack of a cigarette in her hand. Maybe she threw it in the bin while he was looking away. He doesn't say anything.

Shoko's expression changes now, and she smiles. He can't think of the last time he's seen her smile. She brings a hand up, placing it on his shoulder. “She’s a nice girl.”

“She is,” is all he says before Shoko pulls out another cigarette, as she vanishes back into the door.

There’s so many words to describe you, Nanami thinks. Nice is one that stands true, but it only really scratches the surface.

There’s so many words to describe you. So, so many but he can barely think of any as you walk towards him.

You're adorned in a tiny pink and white dress, the edges of your skirt just about hitting your upper thighs. And you're walking towards him with a sweet sweet smile. You look pretty.

"You look beautiful," he manages to utter as you draw near.

You leave a soft peck against his cheeks, "Thank you. You look beautiful as well," you move back to give his outfit a look.

"So, now you're taunting me. All after begging me to wear this shitty costume," he says.

"I didn't beg," you frown with a squint. You didn't beg. All you did was call him handsome, and he conceded.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he says, as he holds out his hand for you, you stretch your hand out to loop yours into his.

Your free hand reaches for your phone, opening a QR code up, so the security could scan it.

"But you look handsome," you say as your hands shift from his forearms to his hand, as you pull him into the crux of the party. And so, he stops grumbling because as he's mentioned before — it's really all it takes from you.

The party scene is not quite what he expected, he was expecting chaos and sticky floor, but it's a bit lax and he can actually hear his thoughts out loud, even though he wishes nothing more than to turn them off now. Because you looks so fucking cute in your outfit, and every time you sit, your skirt rides up — just a little — to reveal your thighs, and he finds himself wishing he could just take you back home. He wants to leave.

No, he needs to leave.

Self restraint has always been one of Nanami's strong suits. But with you, it's always faded to dust.

His first kiss with you happened on a whim, it wasn't planned or anything. He saw you sitting outside on a park bench, on a normal forgettable park bench, and he thought you looked pretty. And so, he leaned in for a kiss.

He then met you days later for your third date, but he could barely let you get past your front door. The dinner reservation had gone to waste, but he just couldn't help himself, you looked too good in your dress.

"Let's leave," he says, bending down to whisper in your ears as you take a sip from your glass.

"What? No," you protest, a soft frown marring your features. "We just got here."

Mirroring your frown, he presses, "But I want to leave now."

He can't help but think about how unlike himself he sounds, he sounds like a child begging for a treat. You could sternly tell him you want to stay, and he'd listen, none too alike to a child.

"Hey," he hears a gruff voice from beside you.

It's a man, dressed in a military outfit, but neither of you know him, at least to his knowledge. He turns to look at you and he confirms the same because you're looking back at him with a similar expression.

"Can we help you?" you ask.

"I know you're dressed as Barbie," the man says. "But I think you're missing wings because you look like an angel."

Apart from the fact that the compliment is just too wordy. Nanami thinks he's pissed because this man has no etiquette, Nanami's hand had been clinging to your waist all night, so what made him think he could come over and hit on you?

But most of all, what pisses him off is that he's not wrong.

"Well, I'm Barbie and Barbie has a Ken so," you say, turning to him and he could swear your eyes twinkled just then.

The stranger persisted, with a chuckle, "Some Barbies have G.I. Joe boyfriends. You should ask my little sister."

Before you can respond, arms encircle your waist, pulling you close to Nanami. "Not this one." His words are curt and final, "Now, leave."

At that the G.I Joe guy's eyes widens, before he wordlessly takes his leave.

And that's all it takes from Nanami to take your glass from your hand before he leaves it on an unoccupied table with a loud clink. He guides your hand into his.

"We're leaving," he says plainly as you nod.

—

Your hands slide to Nanami's neck, and you pull. Your jaw flex as your mouths move. You're so used to his languid movements, that his quick movements leave you reeling.

His torso is completely flush against yours as he lifts you off the ground, still kissing you as he walks to close the front door shut.

Your ankles hook around his back, his hands slide down to grip the undersides of your bare thighs.

It doesn't take too long for him to drop you onto your bed, he quickly takes fur coat off, as he's coming back down to kiss you.

You taste like mint cranberry with a tinge of alcohol remnants around your lips, he thinks.

You cart your fingers through his undercut, before tugging on the roots of the hair above.

He parts away from you now, and this time he slows down. Not because he needs it, but because he doesn't always act this way, he's not always this harsh with his movements, he loves treating you with soft caresses and gentle grips, but there are times like this where you just bring out a different, more untamed side of him.

You take his headband off, as your hands stay on his hair, but this time you play with it, carding through. You know he's thinking, and you know what he's thinking about.

"Kento," you say, soft as a whisper.

He hums. "Are you jealous of the little G.I Joe man?"

Little.

"Why would I be jealous of him?" he asks, as though you've insulted him by implying so. He admits it pissed him off, he admits there is a strange, more concerning side of him that wishes he could keep you all to himself, that he could keep you away from eyes that could see your beauty, but truly, he doesn't worry about other people much. He has all his faith in you.

"It did annoy me," he says. He bends down, leaving a soft kiss forehead.

And that's the last of his softness for you today, he comes back up. "Open," he says, his thumb grazing over your chewed up bottom lip.

And you do, as you often do, your mouth opens, and your eyes stare up at him, wide and waiting with devotion he can only think of deserving at times like this.

Nanami purses his lips and hocks a glob of spit directly into your mouth, as you swallow.

He pushes your legs apart. He bends down, placing the softest kisses all around your neck, "You're so good to me," he says as you groan in tandem.

His hands move up and down, tracing inconsequential patterns before they go up to tug at the straps of your underwear before he pulls them down your legs.

Nanami moves back from your body, your skirt is bunched up to your waist, and you sit upright as you stare down at him in all of your half-naked glory. It takes merely one look at your face— your lips ajar, your hair mussed, your stare hazy — for him to decide he should be on his knees for you.

His knees hit the ground, and his hands come to hold your oustered foot.

His lips come down to press a steady kiss to the arch of your foot as he maintains a painstakingly unwavering eye contact with your eyes.

Slowly, his kisses move higher. He presses the second one just past your ankles, his lips touching the flexing muscles of your calves. With his kiss, your muscles relax.

And then he moves even more higher to the sensitive skin behind your knees, it's ticklish almost so your toes curl to suppress the sensation. And then finally, he settles, he dedicates some time, stopping to leave more than a few kisses to your inner thighs.

Now as his face remains near your inner thighs, Nanami can’t resist, and he sucks twin hickeys onto each side of your thighs. His thumb coming to trace his work of art, as his eyes come back to find your eyes. His brown eyes entrapping you in place.

For a solid minute, Nanami can't do nothing but stare at your pretty cunt. You refuse to squirm but every time he does this, it makes you feel squeamish and seen, you feel the need to kick off and run away. His warm breath dances over the sensitive skin, and you squirm — just a little, begging for the return of his mouth.

He smears his mouth against your cunt with open mouth kisses. Wet trails of his spit glister in the wake of his lips. He uses his fingers to pinch at your hood until your clit peeks out for him.

“You're so good to me Kento baby,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” Nanami asks. He likes hearing it every time, he asks you over and over and over again, until it's all you can seems to say.

You nod eagerly, "Yeah," you say with a soft gulp.

His hand continued to toy with your clit, your hips bucking greedily against the anchor of his hands at your hips, begging for more pressure, more, more, more. And it's just like him to give you more and beyond.

He moves in again — his tongue to his nose both buried in between your legs, as he laps and sucks on until finally your thighs start to show its very first quiver.

With that he moves, focusing his attention on your clit, he is persistent and needy in the way he moves, like he's a starved and depraved little thing. It's so unlike his usual self, so you commit it to memory every chance you get.

The foot that was once laying limp on his shoulder, now clenches, drawing him closer and closer by the neck with every move he continues to make. He can tell you are going cum soon.

It's the part he commits to memory— the way your hips arc, humping to get what you need to fly over the edge, as your eyes are shut with pleasure.

And you come into his mouth at one consequential contact, he relishes that familiar tang as he laps it all up.

He wipes his mouth with one hand and he looks up to you, you look at him and a quiet moment passes by, he can hear a vehicle outside, making it's way across the road.

And then you break out into soft chuckles, it comes out restrained because you're just so out of breath.

You move to the ground, your hand hitting the ground beside him, you're still breathing heavily as you force him to take your place on the bed.

Your hands settle on his thighs, as you caress it his high from over his pants. You look up, as you reach for his belt. "Your turn now, Kento baby."

—

“Tell me why it annoyed you,” you murmur, punctuating your sentence with a small yawn.

The warmth of the bath makes him feel even more drowsy than he’s been feeling, but this feels too nice to wake up and make or even order dinner.

Nanami lies with his back propped in the bath, his knees are spread, sitting against the bathtub to fit your body. Your back lays warm and wet against his chest, and the crown of your head just below his chin. His hands hold your breasts in each palm, slowly caressing your nipples.

Maybe it's because he's feeling drowsy. Maybe it's because you've drained him of his all his energy tonight, but he speaks up. “I guess, I just want you all to myself sometimes."

"Of course, you do. I'm a catch," you say with a giggle.

Nanami tweaks your nipple, and you squeal. The water around him sloshes over the edge of the bathtub, drenching the mat as you move in his hold.

“You can be cocky sometimes,” Nanami says mournfully.

You laugh, and the vibration of your chest shifts your breasts in his hands. "I am yours though," you say. Sweet as you are, he feels like you have to say this to him, you have to reassure him constantly. He doesn’t think he could just know this, as blind faith or by the look in your eyes.

Nanami may look a man confident of his abilities and status, but with you, he thinks you could do so much better. You deserve more than half-truths, and repressed staggering feelings, and so he needs to hear it

"You are," he says. "I guess it's just odd then."

"It's not," your response is immediate. "I understand."

"You do?" he asks.

"Yeah, did you see the number of women looking at you today?" you say, and there's a hint of agitation there, and Nanami hates to admit it but it does something to him. To have this knowledge that you could even care that much for him.

"I didn't see them," he says moments later when you’re both in bed. You nestle in deeper against his chest, barely awake at all. I only see you.

"I know," you smile, and he feels it against his chest.

#genuinely hate the headers and the format of it all but this is the best i could do ://#nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader fluff

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nekomanager · 1 year

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.—001 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡ {𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐈}

one of TSUKISHIMA's university goals is to ruin the sassy student librarian and break all her rules; by the way, it's you

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, rivals to lovers, library sex, pussy eating, bantering (a repost from more than a year ago) PART ONE - TWO

University wasn’t easy especially when you also have library duties part-time and that one day with a classmate from Literature class made it even complicated.

Tsukishima Kei, a wallflower during lectures, handed you a book for return. You scanned the barcode. “Overdue, I didn’t see that from you.” He’s responsible, uptight and by-the-book. It seemed impossible.

Though you meant nothing, he didn’t feel quite right with your comment. “So what? Are you the librarian now?” He sharply replied, scanning the payment QR Code with his phone.

That just rubbed you the wrong way either. “Yes, I am.”

A smirk appeared on his face. “As far as I’m concerned,” he leaned forward over the desk and whispered mockingly, “You’re just a student assistant here.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of patience. With a stiff smile, you professionally reverted back, “Your business is already finish now, Tsukishima-san. You may now go. If you wish to stay, I advise that you remain quiet before I ask you to leave the hall.”

Tsukishima just shot daggers at you, pinning you with his eyes before he turned around and went his own way.

Ha! The slight victory made you grin and gave you the confidence to add another greeting his way, “See you in class, Tsukishima-san.”

See you in class, indeed. After that encounter in the library, it was as if he suddenly became active in recitation. Tsukishima constantly opposed your views every time you shared them in class. It had been weeks, no, months since it was the case. You even heard your classmate picking their sides, placing their bets on who between you and Tsukishima would win the day’s lecture.

And everytime he’d visit the library, he’d return and borrow tons of books at the same time as if he was pissing you off. You were sure as hell that he was doing it on purpose and that he’s timing it perfectly to when you were the one in the desk duty.

You rolled your eyes. Just when you were thinking of how much he annoyed the shit out of you, you saw him reading a book in one of the long tables. Guess what? He grabbed a mountain pile of books. You wouldn’t be shocked if he would place that in the returning cart any moment now since you’re the one in the clearing duty.

You leered, intentionally choosing the aisle near his table and giving him a dirty side eye as you passed by him. You knew he picked that up and just as you predicted, he placed the piles of book in the cart right when you were about to push it off. There were only 2 books in there but when Tsukishima dumped his stuff, there were like about 8 now. Looking at the call numbers, the books were even shelved in the farthest back of the hall.

Asshole! You grimaced at him and he grinned evilly at you. Begrudgingly, you headed to the very last shelf where Tsukishima got his books. You placed some of them back in until you realized that most of what he picked were too high for you to reach.

“You need help?” Tsukishima said with a smug expression as he returned a book in his hand at the top shelf only he could reach.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped.

“Returning a book. I forgot to place it in the cart.” You scoffed and he added, “You would find it hard to shelf it anyway.” His lips etched in a mocking smile as he eyed the remaining books in your cart.

Scoffing, you kicked a ladder in front you. “I was just starting.” You picked up some of the books, stepped into the third level of the ladder and shelved them. Halfway though, you felt his eyes on you. Your gaze traveled to where he was looking and you noticed that your skirt rode up, revealing your garter belt.

“Pervert,” you reprimanded him and went down the ladder.

He immediately snapped away. “Who wears that in school?” Okay, he must admit it’s not the best comeback ever.

What? It’s not like you were wearing anything scandalous. It was just a simple pencil skirt and it’s unintentional that it rode up your thighs. “That doesn’t mean you should look, asshole.”

He huffed and rebutted, “As if there’s something to look at.”“Then why are you looking?” You said, walking past him and pushing a book back in the shelf harder than you intended.

You were surprised when you were grabbed by your elbow, pulling you away from the books that fell from above you.

“Careful,” he warned. Your gazes held each other. His eyes were now filled with concern. Genuine concern. You gulped as you heard your heart beat in your chest. You would be lying if you’d say his rebuttals in class made him less sexy. In fact, it made his snarky ass more attractive.

He scanned you from head to toe. Your clothes bothered him a lot, pulling off that sexy librarian look that never failed to give him fantasies every night.

“You only wear that kind of attire every Thursday.” He chided in as if catching you. In return, you stepped backward, feeling cornered by his height and inquisition.

“Why are you here only every Thursday?” You dared as he stepped forward closing you in. Your back hit the shelf as he towered over you. His eyes studied your pretty lashes and hopeful, needy, eyes. Yours probed his orbs, now showing vulnerability near your presence, losing control over his urges.

You wanted to push him away, but you also wanted him to pull you close. With how petty you acted around each other, he might just laugh at you in complete rejection. You poor little midget was actually attracted to him all this time. You’re hopeless and horny for him, it’s pathetic.

He was equally pathetic too. He couldn’t resist his bulging cock as he saw your lacy bra underneath that long-sleeved dress shirt you wore. And that sassy mouth of yours…the things he wanted to do whenever you open them to spit another off-handed comment his way. Fuck! Just fuck!

You were both breathing heavily and you noticed the way your chest rose and fell against him. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling heat in between. It was unbearable. You needed more. You couldn’t take it anymore and so was he when he smashed his lips against yours. Your mouth opened willingly and his tongue didn’t hesitate to explore. Your hand flew to his head, lacing your fingers around his strands. His hands roamed all over your body not getting enough of you.

He bit your lower-lip, smirking against it as he had been desiring to do that ever since you got into his head. You moaned and it gave him confidence to tease you, running a hand under your skirt and lightly tracing the edge of your stockings. He caressed your thigh and you leaned your head back as his fingers began reaching your pussy.

Tsukishima groaned. “You're so inappropriate.”

You moaned in a begging tone.

He smiled, disbelieving that the smartass Y/N whom he thought hated his guts with all her life was now begging him for more and that prompted all forms of logical reasoning to leave his brain.

He picked up a book from the clearing cart and pressed it against your pussy, rubbing the hard corner against where he thought your clit was to give you pleasure. “Oh, god…” You breathed out. It felt too good. You couldn’t help but hold his wrist with both of your hands, guiding him to the right pressure and tempo as you rocked your hips, using the book for stimulation.

“I never thought you love books this much.” He teased.

You scoffed. “What can I do? Mhmn~“ You panted. “This is all you got.”

A different surge of pride came over him after that sassy remark, which made him drop the book and had him on his knees. He pulled your skirt up and your panties down, inhaling deeply as he came face to face with your sopping wet cunt. His thumb massaged your slit before hooking your leg over his shoulder and digging in to eat you out.

Come to think of it, the signages said, Strictly No Eating, but it’s too late now. He was already overcome with lust and the taste of your delicious pussy so soft against his lips and tongue. He circled against your clit while sipping your arousal. You bit the back of your hand trying to cover your noises. Tsukki pictured the big Remain Quiet library sign in his head. Yes, he’s gonna have you break all the fucking library rules. He’d make sure you’d be making all sorts of noises in a while.

“Please…please..” You heaved, leaning your head back on the shelf as you grabbed a fistful of his strands and rode his face. His glasses now misty with the heat of your pussy and his breathing. His tongue started lapping rapidly.

You were losing your mind already and you could feel your orgasm approaching. Tsukki knew that, but he wasn’t done with you yet not until he's inches deep inside you and his dick was the only thing in your mind. The perfect payback for all the sleepless nights you gave him with nothing but desires on how your pussy would fucking feel, clenching him tight.

He pulled back and you whined a complain. You should’ve known he’d do this right when you were aching and desperate for him.

Cupping your cheek, he drew your lips in for a kiss. You melt like you were pleading more of him in your arms. Feeling his erection rubbing against your stomach, you broke the kiss and looked down at his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips at the sight of his hard-on. “Looks like you need a hand.”

—♡ send 💦 if you want to be tagged in PART 2

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

#tsukishima smut #tsukki smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 6 months

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Revolving Around You

Beefy!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your ex, Wanda Maximoff, invites you to her wedding. You have no reason to go, but find a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, alcohol consumption, and smoking weed

A/N: I really just wanted to write some Natasha fluff and I used the prompt [ wedding ] our muses are sat at the same table at a wedding for a mutual friend

You stared down at the invitation you had received from your long since ex, Wanda Maximoff, she'd be getting married soon. You really didn't talk much with Wanda anymore not since she got together with Vision, but when you did meet up and talk everything was fine.

You weren't expecting this though. Not this soon anyways as you stared down in shock at the lovely scarlet invite to their Spring wedding two months from now. Should you go? She sent the invite so obviously she wants you there, right? You grabbed your phone, scanning the QR code on the invite. It brought you to a page themed in such a way you could only assume it was their wedding theme. You checked off the box to RSVP. You held your breath after hitting send and even once the confirmation came through. Now you had to go through with it.

The ceremony was beautiful. Outside in the blossoming flower fields and apple trees of a rented out pasture. It honestly was a beautiful sight to behold. You'd gone wearing a light blue dress that fell at your mid thigh and a matching pair of open toed heels. Your hair in a half updo of a bun, the rest falling gracefully over your shoulders.

The reception itself was held in a renovated barn on the property. The table you were sitting at you knew no one. Well you didn't know anyone really at the wedding. You knew Wanda, Pietro, Vision, and the parents.

As everyone found their seats a raspy voice called out, “Looks like you're my seat mate for the next however many hours Wanda decides this reception should last.” Your head turned to see a red head, her hair in various braids. She wore a fitting suit that did absolutely nothing to hide all the muscles beneath the fabric. You could see her ear was covered in piercings along with her eyebrow and septum from the profile view you were currently getting. You couldn't help, but stare at the beauty sitting next to you. As you went to respond to the red head, she was shrugging off the suit jacket. The button up and tie she wore were almost the same as your dress. In fact if anyone were to give a quick glance they probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference. She hung the jacket on the chair. Turning towards you and as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the double sleeves of tattoos on her arms.

“Wow…they're beautiful…” you meant to keep that thought in your head, but it slipped past your lips. A blush adorning your face as you turned away to hide.

“Well thank you pretty girl.” She leaned onto the table, all her attention on you as you downed your drink, suddenly feeling like you couldn't swallow. A chuckle falling past the redhead's lips. “I'm Natasha by the way, what's your name? Though I'll probably stick to calling you pretty girl with a reaction like that.” You looked over to see her smirking, another blush coming to your cheeks.

“Y/N…” you spoke quietly, but Natasha heard and tested it on her tongue,

“Y/N…hmmm I think that's a beautiful name that suits a pretty girl like you.”

A few hours into the reception you and Natasha are talking as if you've known each other your whole lives. Once the dance floor opens up after the first dance, Natasha holds out her hand. “Care to dance, pretty girl?” Her sultry voice finds your ears, sending a shiver through you. You don't speak a word, instead opting to just set your hand in hers. The way her hand held yours felt perfect, it felt right.

Her hand in yours, the other holding your waist as yours sat on her shoulder. She led the dance of you two and everything around you faded away. It was only Natasha. All you wanted to do was lean in and kiss the redhead, but you controlled yourself even though your head was swimming from the alcohol you've been consuming.

“You're, like, really handsome and beautiful.” You blurt out making her chuckle.

“Well pretty girl now that we've both said what we think about each other's appearance maybe we could go on a date outside of this wedding?” She offers cocking the pierced brow at you.

“Where do you live?” you slurred, looking up at her.

“New York.” Your eyes lit up, getting up closer to her face.

“Me too!” She smiled, leading you two outside the reception hall. Grabbing her jacket on the way out, setting it on your shoulders. The air had gotten cold now that the sun was down, but a bonfire was being lit by Vision's brother Tony and Wanda's brother Pietro.

You wanted to go over and get a seat, but Natasha had you against the wall. She wasn't holding you there, but she towered over you as she pulled you closer.

“Are you cold?” She asked in a low voice.

“Only a little. Your jacket is helping and your body heat...” Your voice trails off as you wrap your arms around her waist. You looked up at the redhead who took a hand to your cheek. Her thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I could warm you up a bit more if you’d like?” You bit the inside of your lip, nodding your head as she pulled you against her, lifting you onto your tip toes as your lips brushed together. “Is this okay?” You didn’t answer verbally as you leaned up further to press your lips into hers. Your hands fisting her shirt and you were sure you wrinkled the fabric, but neither of you could bring yourself to care as you went from a simple kiss to her tongue swiping across your lip asking for entrance. When you opened your mouth for her and her tongue made its way into your mouth you realized she had a tongue piercing too, making you moan into her. She pulled you closer and didn’t pull away until you both were desperate for air.

She looked down at you with a satisfied smile. You knew you probably looked a bit hazy, the alcohol still swimming in your brain. You were normally much more reserved than this, but with everything that was happening you would have let Natasha take you right here in front of everyone and not cared one bit. Instead the two of you shared a handful of slow soft kisses as little whimpers and moans escaped you. It had been too long and you wanted her so badly, but one of your major rules was no sex on the first date and this wasn’t even a first date. This is a first meeting.

After Natasha had her fill with kissing you she pulled out a joint, flicking a lighter to it until you saw the paper start to burn, red glowing as she inhaled. As she exhaled she looked up towards the sky. You watched the cloud of smoke leave her lips, your jaw slack as you watched feeling a dampness pool between your thighs.

When Pietro came over he handed you a drink and asked if he could take a hit from Natasha who didn't mind as the two caught up. You stood there in awe, downing your drink, as the two went back and forth with the joint and with conversation.

Eventually the three of you made your way over to the bonfire. Wanda sat on Vision's lap as stories were told amongst friends and family. Natasha had sat down and practically mirrored Wanda when she pulled you to sit on her lap. You bit the inside of your lip as she held you against her, carrying on in her conversations. Your eye caught Wanda's, a knowing smirk on her face making you huff and look down.

“What's wrong pretty girl?” You felt Natasha's cheek press against your arm.

“Nothing…” you tried to lie, but she gripped your hip tight. A moan wanting to rip through you. “W-Wanda was looking…” you quietly admitted.

“Didn't the two of you date for a bit?” You nodded in response. “I'm surprised she let you go for someone like him.” Your head turned to face her. “Wanda's my best friend, but I think she's stupid for letting you go.” You felt your whole body go hot and a puddle between your thighs.

“T-thanks Natasha.” You spoke shyly, turning yourself more into her, burying your face against her. The alcohol was wearing off and you were getting tired without more being added into your system.

“Get comfy sweetie. I'm gonna keep talking with my friends.” Natasha's hand found your back, pulling you close. Her other arm hooking around your thighs to hold you there. You smiled against her. You thought this whole thing would be disastrous seeing your ex getting married, but meeting Natasha and getting to spend the whole evening together. Getting to kiss her and her just holding you in her arms. You hadn’t felt this happy or this secure in...you couldn’t even remember how long. You slowly fell asleep against her chest, listening to her heart beat, the sounds of people talking and the bonfire crackling.

#ley speaks #ley writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fluff #beefy!nat #beefy!natasha #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

Text

It was all downhill after the Cuecat

Sometime in 2001, I walked into a Radio Shack on San Francisco’s Market Street and asked for a Cuecat: a handheld barcode scanner that looked a bit like a cat and a bit like a sex toy. The clerk handed one over to me and I left, feeling a little giddy. I didn’t have to pay a cent.

The Cuecat was a good idea and a terrible idea. The good idea was to widely distribute barcode scanners to computer owners, along with software that could read and decode barcodes; the company’s marketing plan called for magazines and newspapers to print barcodes alongside ads and articles, so readers could scan them and be taken to the digital edition. To get the Cuecat into widespread use, the company raised millions in the capital markets, then mass-manufactured these things and gave them away for free at Radio Shacks around the country. Every Wired and Forbes subscriber got one in the mail!

That was the good idea (it’s basically a prototype for today’s QR-codes). The terrible idea was that this gadget would spy on you. Also, it would only work with special barcodes that had to be licensed from the manufacturer. Also, it would only work on Windows.

https://web.archive.org/web/20001017162623/http://www.businessweek.com/bwdaily/dnflash/sep2000/nf20000928_029.htm

But the manufacturer didn’t have the last word! Not at all. A couple of enterprising hardware hackers — Pierre-Philippe Coupard and Michael Rothwell — tore down a Cuecat, dumped its ROM, and produced their own driver for it — a surveillance-free driver that worked with any barcode. You could use it to scan the UPCs on your books or CDs or DVDs to create a catalog of your media; you could use it to scan UPCs on your groceries to make a shopping list. You could do any and every one of these things, because the Cuecat was yours.

Cuecat’s manufacturer, Digital Convergence, did not like this at all. They sent out legal demand letters and even shut down some of the repositories that were hosting alternative Cuecat firmware. They changed the license agreement that came with the Cuecat software CD to prohibit reverse-engineering.

http://www.cexx.org/cuecat.htm

It didn’t matter, both as a practical matter and as a matter of law. As a practical matter, the (ahem) cat was out of the bag: there were so many web-hosting companies back then, and people mirrored the code to so many of them, the company would have its hands full chasing them all down and intimidating them into removing the code.

Then there was the law: how could you impose license terms on a gift? How could someone be bound by license terms on a CD that they simply threw away without ever opening it, much less putting it in their computer?

https://slashdot.org/story/00/09/18/1129226/digital-convergence-changes-eula-and-gets-cracked

In the end, Cuecat folded and sold off its remaining inventory. The early 2000s were not a good time to be a tech company, much less a tech company whose business model required millions of people to meekly accept a bad bargain.

Back then, tech users didn’t feel any obligation to please tech companies’ shareholders: if they backed a stupid business, that was their problem, not ours. Venture capitalists were capitalists — if they wanted us give to them according to their need and take from them according to their ability, they should be venture communists.

Last August, philosopher and Centre for Technomoral Futures director Shannon Vallor tweeted, “The saddest thing for me about modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance is how it has just slowly killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech. Every product Meta or Amazon announces makes the future seem bleaker and grayer.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559659655097376768

She went on: “I don’t think it’s just my nostalgia, is it? There’s no longer anything being promised to us by tech companies that we actually need or asked for. Just more monitoring, more nudging, more draining of our data, our time, our joy.”

https://twitter.com/ShannonVallor/status/1559663985821106177

Today on Tumblr, @wilwheaton responded: “[T]here is very much no longer a feeling of ‘How can this change/improve my life?’ and a constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity in a world that demands I have this thing to operate.’”

https://wilwheaton.tumblr.com/post/698603648058556416/cory-doctorow-if-you-see-this-and-have-thoughts

Wil finished with, “Cory Doctorow, if you see this and have thoughts, I would LOVE to hear them.”

I’ve got thoughts. I think this all comes back to the Cuecat.

When the Cuecat launched, it was a mixed bag. That’s generally true of technology — or, indeed, any product or service. No matter how many variations a corporation offers, they can never anticipate all the ways that you will want or need to use their technology. This is especially true for the users the company values the least — poor people, people in the global south, women, sex workers, etc.

That’s what makes the phrase “So easy your mom can use it” particularly awful “Moms” are the kinds of people whose priorities and difficulties are absent from the room when tech designers gather to plan their next product. The needs of “moms” are mostly met by mastering, configuring and adapting technology, because tech doesn’t work out of the box for them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/19/the-weakest-link/#moms-are-ninjas

(As an alternative, I advocate for “so easy your boss can use it,” because your boss gets to call up the IT department and shout, “I don’t care what it takes, just make it work!” Your boss can solve problems through raw exercise of authority, without recourse to ingenuity.)

Technology can’t be understood separately from technology users. This is the key insight in Donald Norman’s 2004 book Emotional Design, which argued that the ground state of all technology is broken, and the overarching task of tech users is to troubleshoot the things they use:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#cuckoos-egg

Troubleshooting is both an art and a science: it requires both a methodical approach and creative leaps. The great crisis of troubleshooting is that the more frustrated and angry you are, the harder it is to be methodical or creative. Anger turns attention into a narrow tunnel of brittle movements and thinking.

In Emotional Design, Norman argues that technology should be beautiful and charming, because when you like a technology that has stopped working, you are able to troubleshoot it in an expansive, creative, way. Emotional Design was not merely remarkable for what it said, but for who said it.

Donald Norman, after all, was the author of the hugely influential 1998 classic The Design of Everyday Things, which counseled engineers and designers to put function over form — to design things that work well, even if that meant stripping away ornament and sidelining aesthetics.

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/don-norman/the-design-of-everyday-things/9780465050659/

With Emotional Design, Norman argued that aesthetics were functional, because aesthetics primed users to fix the oversights and errors and blind spots of designers. It was a manifesto for competence and humility.

And yet, as digital technology has permeated deeper into our lives, it has grown less configurable, not more. Companies today succeed where Cuecat failed. Consolidation in the online world means that if you remove a link from one search engine and four social media sites, the material in question vanishes for 99% of internet users.

It’s even worse for apps: anyone who succeeds in removing an app from two app stores essentially banishes it from the world. One mobile platform uses technological and legal countermeasures to make it virtually impossible to sideload an app; the other one relies on strong-arm tactics and deceptive warnings to do so.

That means that when a modern Coupard and Rothwell decides to unfuck some piece of technology — to excise the surveillance and proprietary media requirements, leaving behind the welcome functionality — they can only do so with the sufferance of the manufacturer. If the manufacturer doesn’t like an add-on, mod, plug-in or overlay, they can use copyright takedowns, anticircumvention law, patent threats, trademark threats, cybersecurity law, contract law and other “IP” to simply banish the offending code:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Many of these laws carry dire penalties. For example, distributing a tool that bypasses an “access control” so that you can change the software on a gadget (say, to make your printer accept third-party ink) is a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA, punishable by a $500k fine and a 5-year prison sentence.

If Cuecat’s manufacturers had simply skinned their firmware with a thin scrim of DRM, they could have threatened Coupard and Rothwell with prison sentences. The developments in “IP” over the two decades since the Cuecat have conjured up a new body of de facto law that Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business model.”

Once we gave companies the power to literally criminalize the reconfiguration of their products, everything changed. In the Cuecat era, a corporate meeting to plan a product that acted against its users’ interests had to ask, “How will we sweeten the pot and/or obfuscate our code so that our users don’t remove the anti-features we’re planning to harm them with?”

But in a world of Felony Contempt of Business Model, that discussion changes to “Given that we can literally imprison anyone who helps our users get more out of this product, how can we punish users who are disloyal enough to simply quit our service or switch away from our product?”

That is, “how can we raise the switching costs of our products so that users who are angry at us keep using our products?” When Facebook was planning its photos product, they deliberately designed it to tempt users into making it the sole repository of their family photos, in order to hold those photos ransom to keep Facebook users from quitting for G+:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

Companies claim that their lock-in strategies are about protecting their users: “Move into our walled garden, for it is a fortress, whose battlements bristle with fearsome warriors who will defend you from the bandits who roam the countryside”:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

But this “feudal security” offers a terrible temptation to the lords of these fortresses, because once you are inside those walls, the fortress can easily be converted to a prison: these companies can abuse you with impunity, for so long as the cost of the abuse is less than the cost of the things you must give up when you leave.

The tale that companies block you from overriding their decisions is for your own good was always dubious, because companies simply can’t anticipate all the ways their products will fail you. No design team knows as much about your moment-to-moment struggles as you do.

But even where companies are sincere in their desire to be the most benevolent of dictators, the gun on the mantelpiece in Act I is destined to go off by Act III: eventually, the temptation to profit by hurting you will overpower whatever “corporate ethics” once stayed the hand of the techno-feudalist who rules over your fortress. Under feudal security, you are one lapse in corporate leadership from your protector turning into your tormentor.

When Apple launched the Ipad 12 years ago, I published an editorial entitled “Why I won’t buy an iPad (and think you shouldn’t, either),” in which I predicted that app stores would inevitable be turned against users:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Today, Apple bans apps if they “use…a third-party service” unless they “are specifically permitted to do so under the service’s terms of use.” In other words, Apple specifically prohibits developers from offering tools that displease other companies’ shareholders, no matter whether this pleases Apple customers:

https://developer.apple.com/app-store/review/guidelines/#intellectual-property

Note that clause 5.2.2 of Apple’s developer agreement doesn’t say “You mustn’t violate a legally enforceable term of service.” It just says, “Thou shalt not violate a EULA.” EULAs are garbage-novellas of impenetrable legalese, larded with unenforceable and unconscionable terms.

Apple sometimes will displease other companies on your behalf. For example, it instituted a one-click anti-tracking setting for Ios that cost Facebook $10 billion in a matter of months:

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/02/02/facebook-says-apple-ios-privacy-change-will-cost-10-billion-this-year.html

But Apple also has big plans to expand its margins by growing its own advertising network. When Apple customers choose ad-blockers that block Apple’s ads, will Apple permit it?

https://www.wired.com/story/apple-is-an-ad-company-now/

The problem with app stores isn’t whether your computing experience is “curated” — that is, whether entities you trust can produce collections of software they vouch for. The problem is when you can’t choose someone else — when leaving a platform involves high switching costs, whether that’s having to replace hardware, buy new media, or say goodbye to your friends, customers, community or family.

When a company can leverage its claims to protecting you to protect itself from you — from choices you might make that ultimately undermine its shareholders interests, even if they protect your own interests — it would be pretty goddamned naive to expect it to do otherwise.

More and more of our tools are now digital tools, whether we’re talking about social media or cars, tractors or games consoles, toothbrushes or ovens:

https://www.hln.be/economie/gentse-foodboxleverancier-mealhero-failliet-klanten-weten-van-niets~a3139f52/

And more and more, those digital tools look more like apps than Cuecats, with companies leveraging “IP” to let them control who can compete with them — and how. Indeed, browsers are becoming more app-like, rather than the other way around.

Back in 2017, the W3C took the unprecedented step of publishing a DRM standard despite this standard not having anything like the consensus that is the norm for W3C publications, and the W3C rejected a proposal to protect people who reverse-engineered that standard to add accessibility features or correct privacy defects:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

And while we’re seeing remarkable progress on Right to Repair and other policies that allow the users of technology to override the choices of vendors, there’s another strong regulatory current that embraces companies’ ability to control their users, in the hopes that these big companies will police their users to prevent bad stuff, from controversial measures like filtering for copyright infringement to more widely supported ideas like blocking child sex abuse material (CSAM, AKA “child porn”).

There are two problems with this. First, if we tell companies they must control their users (that is, block them from running plugins, mods, skins, filters, etc) then we can’t tell them that they must not control their users. It comes down to whether you want to make Mark Zuckerberg better at his job, or whether you want to abolish the job of “Mark Zuckerberg.”

https://doctorow.medium.com/unspeakable-8c7bbd4974bc

Then there’s the other problem — the gun on the mantelpiece problem. If we give big companies the power to control their users, they will face enormous internal pressure to abuse that power. This isn’t a hypothetical risk: Facebook’s top executives stand accused of accepting bribes from Onlyfans in exchange for adding performers who left Onlyfans to a terrorist watchlist, which meant they couldn’t use other platforms:

https://gizmodo.com/clegg-meta-executives-identified-in-onlyfans-bribery-su-1849649270

I’m not a fan of terrorist watchlists, for obvious reasons. But letting Facebook manage the terrorist watchlist was clearly a mistake. But Facebook’s status as a “trusted reporter” grows directly out of Facebook’s good work on moderation. The lesson is the same as the one with Apple and the ads — just because the company sometimes acts in our interests, it doesn’t follow that we should always trust them to do so.

Back to Shannon Vallor’s question about the origins of “modern tech’s long spiral into user manipulation and surveillance” and how that “killed off the joy that people like me used to feel about new tech”; and Wil Wheaton’s “constant dread of ‘How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity.”

Tech leaders didn’t get stupider or crueler since those halcyon days. The tech industry was and is filled with people who made their bones building weapons of mass destruction for the military-industrial complex; IBM, the company that gave us the PC, built the tabulating machines for Nazi concentration camps:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_and_the_Holocaust

We didn’t replace tech investors and leaders with worse people — we have the same kinds of people but we let them get away with more. We let them buy up all their competitors. We let them use the law to lock out competitors they couldn’t buy, including those who would offer their customers tools to lower their switching costs and block abusive anti-features.

We decided to create “Felony Contempt of Business Model,” and let the creators of the next Cuecat reach beyond the walls of their corporate headquarters and into the homes of their customers, the offices of their competitors, and the handful of giant tech sites that control our online discourse, to reach into those places and strangle anything that interfered with their commercial desires.

That’s why plans to impose interoperability on tech giants are so exciting — because the problem with Facebook isn’t “the people I want to speak to are all gathered in one convenient place,” no more than the problem with app stores isn’t “these companies generally have good judgment about which apps I want to use.”

The problem is that when those companies don’t have your back, you have to pay a blisteringly high price to leave their walled gardens. That’s where interop comes in. Think of how an interoperable Facebook could let you leave behind Zuckerberg’s dominion without forswearing access to the people who matter to you:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Cuecats were cool. The people who made them were assholes. Interop meant that you could get the cool gadget and tell the assholes to fuck off. We have lost the ability to do so, little by little, for decades, and that’s why a new technology that seems cool no longer excites. That’s why we feel dread — because we know that a cool technology is just bait to lure us into a prison that masquerades as a fortress.

Image: Jerry Whiting (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:CueCat_barcode_scanner.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[Image ID: A Cuecat scanner with a bundled cable and PS/2 adapter; it resembles a plastic cat and also, slightly, a sex toy. It is posed on a Matrix movie 'code waterfall' background and limned by a green 'supernova' light effect.]

#pluralistic

7K notes · View notes

fullsandwichmiracle · 1 month

Note

friends with benefits but joost is a bit toxic 🙏🙏🙏

You only call me when it's half past five

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description:Y/N and Joost had been in a friends-with-benefits relationship for a while, but when Y/N saw him kiss someone else right in front of her, a wave of jealousy hit her hard. Feeling hurt and frustrated, she stormed out, seeking solace in the arms of another. Though the stranger’s affection offered temporary relief, it couldn’t compare to the magnetic pull Joost had on her.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cigarettes, angst, rpf

Word count: 3 k +

You were nestled in bed, engrossed in your favorite show, when your phone suddenly lit up. It was Joost. With a sigh, you paused the show and grabbed the phone.

"Hey, Joost. What's up?" you answered, curious about the late-night call.

"Hi Y/N, what are you up to?" Joost's voice came through, noticeably slurred and tipsy.

"I'm just relaxing in bed, watching some TV. What's going on with you?" you replied.

"I'm at this wild party at a friend's place," Joost said, his excitement palpable even through the phone. "You should totally come."

A grin spread across your face. "You know I can't resist a good party. And my FOMO is off the charts. Send me the address, and I'm there."

Joost chuckled, knowing he had you hooked. "I knew you'd say that. I'll text you the details right now."

He hung up before you could say anything more. With a sigh, you pressed play on your show again before you swung your legs out of bed to get ready for the party.

Opting for a casual look, you chose a black tube top and a flowy long white skirt that was slightly see-through in certain lighting. It was just a random house party, after all, but you still wanted to look effortlessly stylish. Your phone lit up again, this time with a text from Joost containing the address of the party.

Turning off the TV, you rummaged for drinks to bring along. You found a shot and downed it immediately, not wanting to show up completely sober. You grabbed a few more shots and a variety of canned drinks and put them in a bag, ready for the party.

You picked up your phone, took a selfie as you downed another shot, and sent it to Joost with the text, “Ready!”

With a buzz of excitement, you gathered your drinks and slipped on a pair of comfortable shoes. After a final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

The party wasn't far away, so you decided to walk to the nearest electric scooter. The cool night air felt refreshing as you approached the row of scooters, selecting one and scanning the QR code to unlock it.

With a slight thrill, you hopped on and zipped through the streets, the city lights blurring around you. The anticipation of the party mixed with the freedom of the ride made you feel alive.

As you approached the house, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, guiding you to your destination. You parked the scooter nearby and walked up to the front door. Out of courtesy, you knocked before stepping inside. The house was crowded, but every face was familiar.

You searched the kitchen for a spot to set down your drinks, and as you closed the fridge and popped open a can, you caught sight of Joost guiding a girl toward another room. Although you and Joost had a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement and nothing exclusive, it still stung to see him with someone else, especially tonight. You couldn’t help but wonder why he’d invite you to the party only to focus his attention elsewhere.

You trailed behind, observing Joost lead her into the heart of a lively dancing crowd. Instead of joining them, you headed toward a nearby couch where a group was engaged in a drinking game. You plopped down and asked, “Mind if I join in?”

As you joined the drinking game, the laughter and lightheartedness of the group momentarily distracted you from Joost and the mystery girl. But your eyes kept drifting back to them, watching as they swayed together in the dimly lit living room. You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, reminding yourself that you and Joost weren’t exclusive. Still, something about the situation didn't sit right with you.

A few rounds later, after downing more than a couple of shots, you decided you’d had enough of the silent torture. You weren't the type to just sit back and let things fester. Gathering your courage, you stood up, excused yourself from the group, and made your way through the crowd toward Joost.

You found him leaning against the wall, his arm draped lazily over the girl’s shoulders as they talked in hushed tones, their faces close. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached, but you steadied yourself, determined to confront him.

“Joost,” you called out, loud enough to be heard over the music. His head turned slightly in your direction, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

He smirked, but instead of acknowledging you, he turned back to the girl and said something that made her giggle. Irritation flared inside you. You stepped closer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Joost,” you repeated, your tone firmer this time.

Finally, he glanced at you, his smirk still plastered on his face. “Hey, Y/N. Having fun?”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure. “What’s going on? You invited me here, but it seems like you’re more interested in... other things.”

Joost raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. He glanced at the girl beside him, then back at you. “Oh, come on, Y/N. We’re just having a little fun. No need to get all serious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, Joost leaned in and kissed the girl right in front of you. It wasn’t just a peck either—it was a deliberate, slow kiss, meant to provoke.

Your heart sank as you watched them, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. Joost had always been playful, but this was different. He was doing it on purpose, knowing it would get under your skin. And it worked.

As they pulled apart, Joost looked at you again, his eyes gleaming with a teasing challenge. “Don’t be mad, Y/N. You know we aren't exclusive”

The girl glanced at you, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t move away from Joost. Instead, she stood there, almost as if she were waiting to see how you’d react.

You felt a burning need to say something, to do something, but a part of you hesitated. This wasn’t what you’d signed up for. The casual nature of your relationship with Joost had always been comfortable, but now it felt like he was pushing boundaries just to see how far he could go.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know, Joost, this is just cruel.”

Joost’s smirk faded slightly, as if your words had hit a nerve. But before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked away, pushing through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere was better than standing there, feeling humiliated.

You found yourself outside on the porch, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks. You leaned against the railing, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you felt a presence beside you. You looked up to see one of the guys from the drinking game, his expression concerned.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air.”

He nodded, leaning on the railing beside you. “Joost can be a real jerk sometimes. Don’t let him get to you.”

His words brought a surprising sense of comfort, easing the tension that had been building all night.

"Want a cigarette?" he asked, pulling out a pack and offering it to you as he took one for himself.

You nodded, taking one from the box and placing it between your lips.

He lit his cigarette first, the flame briefly illuminating his face, then leaned in to light yours. The warmth of the lighter’s flame brushed against your skin, and your eyes met his for a moment longer than you expected. There was something in his gaze, something playful and inviting, that made the tension in your chest ease just a bit more.

As you both exhaled that first drag, the smoke curled up into the night air, mixing with the muted sounds of the party behind you. You took another drag, feeling the calm slowly settle in.

“So,” he began with a teasing grin, “do you always make such dramatic exits at parties, or is tonight a special occasion?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you leaned back against the porch railing. “Only when the party’s worth it,” you replied, smirking. “Though I needed a good reason to escape that mess inside.”

He laughed, a warm sound that seemed to wrap around you. “Well, if you’re looking for an escape, I’m pretty good at keeping people distracted.” He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? And what kind of tricks are we talking about?”

He took a slow drag, his eyes never leaving yours. “I could start with some bad jokes, move on to charming conversation, and maybe—just maybe—end with something more interesting.” His gaze dipped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes, the suggestion clear.

You felt your pulse quicken, the playful tension between you growing. “Bad jokes, huh?” you teased, trying to ignore the way his attention was making your heart race. “You must be a real pro.”

“Only when I’m inspired,” he shot back, his grin widening.

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the crackling of your cigarettes. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it easy to forget the mess with Joost inside.

Before you could think too much about it, you took a step closer, closing the small gap between you. “Well,” you said, your voice a little softer, “maybe you can show me one of those tricks right now.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His eyes flickered with interest as he leaned in, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you on that porch. You could feel his breath against your lips, the anticipation crackling in the air. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was warm and gentle at first, testing the waters, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hand moving to the back of his neck. His free hand found your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, everything else vanished—the noise from the party, the tension from earlier, even the lingering thoughts of Joost. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours and the way he was holding you as if he didn’t want to let go.

But the moment was shattered when the door to the house swung open. You broke the kiss and pulled away, feeling the heat of the moment, but as soon as Joost’s voice cut through the air, your heart sank. You looked over the guy’s shoulder to see Joost standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something that made your stomach twist with uncertainty.

“Y/N,” Joost said, his voice cool and controlled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He stepped onto the porch, his eyes drifting lazily between you and the guy beside you, who still had his hand on your waist. “Didn’t think you’d move on so quickly. Guess I underestimated you.”

The comment was sharp, laced with a mocking edge that sent a wave of irritation through you. You stepped back, putting some distance between yourself and the guy, who was now looking at Joost with a raised eyebrow, clearly sizing him up. But it wasn’t the guy beside you that had your attention—it was Joost and the way he was looking at you, like he was toying with you.

“Joost,” you started, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “What do you want?”

He chuckled, a low, almost condescending sound, as he took a step closer, completely ignoring the other guy. “I just came out to get some air, but it looks like I walked in on something... interesting.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “So, is this what you do now? Kiss random guys at parties?”

You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “And what about you?” you shot back. “You were the one all over that girl inside, or did you forget?”

Joost’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Oh, I didn’t forget. But I wasn’t expecting you to get so jealous. I mean, it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, right?”

The words stung, and Joost knew it. He was pushing your buttons, testing how far he could go. The guy beside you, sensing the tension, took a step back, clearly realizing this was between you and Joost.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “Why did you even invite me here, Joost? To play games? To mess with my head?”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do. I like keeping things interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, refusing to back down. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something more genuine as he closed the distance between you. “But you like it, don’t you? You like that I keep you guessing.”

He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming. Part of you wanted to push him away, to walk back into the house and leave him standing there. But another part of you—the part that had always been drawn to his teasing, his unpredictability—couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“You know,” Joost continued, his voice low as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re not the only one who gets jealous. Seeing you with him...” He nodded slightly toward the guy who was now leaning against the porch railing, watching the interaction unfold. “It made me realize something.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And what’s that?”

“That I don’t like sharing,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as his fingers trailed down your cheek. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. He leaned in closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth from yours, his teasing smirk still in place.

“You like being teased, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Admit it, Y/N. You love it when I push your buttons.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, Joost closed the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both demanding and intoxicating. This kiss was different from the one you’d shared with the other guy—it was filled with a fiery possessiveness, as if Joost was staking his claim.

Despite yourself, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. It was infuriating how easily he could get under your skin, how much you craved this dangerous dance between you two.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing heavily. “See?” he whispered, his voice a mix of arrogance and affection. “You can’t resist me.”

You bit your lip, trying to regain some control. “You’re such a jerk,” you muttered, but your words lacked conviction.

Joost chuckled softly, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before pulling away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours. “Maybe, I am” he agreed, “but you like it”

Just as you were about to respond, the other guy cleared his throat, reminding you both that he was still there. Joost glanced over, his smirk returning as he gave the guy a mocking nod. “Thanks for keeping her company. I’ll take it from here.”

The guy rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, instead giving you a small, understanding smile before turning to head back inside, leaving you and Joost alone on the porch.

As the door closed behind the other guy, the night air seemed to grow still around you and Joost. The intensity of the moment hung heavy between you, and you could feel Joost’s gaze on you, sharp and possessive. He didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin.

He leaned down, his lips trailing along your neck, sending a shiver through your body. A soft whimper escaped your lips; you were powerless against him, and he knew it. He had you wrapped around his finger, completely at his mercy. You wanted something real, a relationship that meant more, but deep down, you knew he saw you as nothing more than his toy, something he could enjoy on his terms, whenever he pleased.

As his lips continued to explore your neck, each kiss igniting sparks under your skin, you felt the bittersweet ache in your chest intensify. You were caught between the intoxicating pull of his touch and the painful truth that settled in your mind: you were just a fleeting pleasure for him, a secret indulgence.

Joost’s hands roamed over your body with a practiced ease, every movement claiming more of you, making it harder to remember why you wanted something more. His teeth grazed your skin, drawing another helpless whimper from you, and a low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with arrogance. “You like being my toy”

You couldn’t deny it. The way he made you feel, the way he dominated every part of you, was intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more—more than just stolen moments and empty promises. You wanted to be more than just his plaything.

But as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, you felt your resolve waver. It was so easy to give in, to let yourself be swept away by the heat of the moment, to forget everything else.

Yet, deep down, the truth gnawed at you. This was all he was willing to offer, and as much as it hurt, you knew you were powerless to change it. The thought stung, but the way he held you, the way he touched you, made it so hard to resist. You were trapped in a dangerous game, one that left you longing for more even as you knew you’d never have it.

Joost pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a possessive growl, as if daring you to deny it.

And despite everything, despite the yearning for something real, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Instead, you nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “Yes, I’m yours.”

But even as the words left your lips, you knew they carried a weight that neither of you fully acknowledged—a truth buried beneath the surface of a relationship that was anything but simple.

#joost fanfic #joost fanfiction #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein imagine #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost smut #joost klein x you #joost x reader #rpf

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planetkiimchi · 3 months

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the first drops of rain | k.mg

summary — mingyu's your first love. your first date with him could be described as fairytale like, at least until it begins raining. even then, maybe the rain is a paid actor, teaching you to slow down in your fast-paced student life.

featuring: mingyu x gn!reader, highschool au

word count: 2729 words

a/n: first seventeen work! kinda thought my first svt work would be seokmin or minghao but HAHA we’re here instead with a mingyu work. it’s based off a very precious memory of mine, and i felt like mingyu’s personality was the most similar to the guy i went out with <3

mingyu: we’re meeting at the start of the trail at 9, right?

You react to his message with a thumbs up, pulling up your shoes and glancing outside. The start of the trail is only a few hundred metres away from your house, so you’re not in a rush.

Mingyu asked you out on this date a few months ago, but you were overseas during the winter break, and weren’t able to go out with him. After a few months of discussing where to go, you finally settled on going cycling with him.

The sun rose quite a while ago, and the temperature is rather warm, but you figure that it’ll all be fine.

You check the time again and head downstairs, cycling over to the subway station to meet Mingyu.

You’re a few minutes late, so you expect to see Mingyu waiting there when you arrive, an apology already on the tip of your tongue, but you’re surprised when he’s not.

In fact, you have to wait another ten minutes before he finally arrives, a little out of breath and completely lost, without a bicycle. He smiles sheepishly at you, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He mumbles a “sorry”, curly hair falling in his eyes as he looks earnestly at you, shoulders raised in his nervousness.

Your annoyance at his tardiness dissipates once you see him in this state, genuinely apologetic and well-meaning. You let a soft sigh escape your lips. It’s okay.

Mingyu raises his phone and hesitantly says he needs to pick up his bike.

You’re about to reply when an old lady comes up to you, one hand clutching her grocery stroller. She politely asks if you know where the Flower Market is?

You nod. It’s right next to your apartment block, and you often go there to buy groceries yourself. You point the lady in the direction of the market, turning back to Mingyu.

Once again, before you can speak, Mingyu jerks his head at the stairs that the old lady has to climb up to get out of the subway station and onto the pavement. She lifts up the grocery stroller, and you rush to help her with it.

She smiles at you. Thank you.

You smile back. No problem.

Tilting your head towards the stairs, you beckon Mingyu to follow. The bicycles are located at the lowest level of the apartment block directly opposite yours, so you’re heading in the same direction as the lady anyway.

Once you’ve helped the old lady get her stroller up to the top of the stairs, you wave goodbye to her, prepared to head back down the flight of stairs to get your bicycle.

Fortunately for you, you don’t have to. Mingyu holds your bicycle in his hands, setting it down at the top of the stairs, and your heart warms, just a little.

It takes a longer time to figure out how the bike sharing system works than you thought it would. Mingyu scans the QR code on the back of the bicycle, frowning as he navigates the app, trying to figure out how the payment works. You stand to the side, holding on to your bicycle’s handlebars, watching his eyebrows knit themselves into a knot, before the wrinkles in his forehead slowly iron out when he finally gets the app to work.

All set? you ask.

Mingyu nods. All set.

You climb onto your bicycle, eager to head off, and Mingyu follows behind.

With the sun beating down on your backs, the two of you start off on the trail, figuring out a pace that works for both of you. You haven’t cycled in a long time, and you can’t go too slow, or you’ll be too unsteady for both of you to ride side-by-side on the narrow path.

The greenery on both sides of the trail helps to keep the temperature down, and you’re grateful for the shade it provides in the heat of summer. Next to you, Mingyu asks how school has been. You reply with one of those blasé “school is good” type of answers, but he doesn’t accept that.

Mingyu keeps prodding.

And, with your feet pedalling hard underneath you and the glare of the blue sky overhead, you find yourself opening up.

It’s started drizzling slightly when you reach the bicycle racks, so you chain your bicycles up and head to the nearby subway station to seek shelter. While you’re standing there, you ask Mingyu where he wants to go.

Originally, you wanted to go to watch a movie, but since the date was so impromptu, you didn’t check the movie timings out beforehand, so now you realise that none of the timings are convenient for you.

It’s fine, Mingyu insists. He’ll figure something out.

It doesn’t take long before he’s dragging you down another path you didn’t notice earlier, one that leads to a train station that’s no longer in use. Two carriages of the trains are left on the tracks as a memorial to the old train station, and despite the red tape covering the doors, Mingyu climbs up into the carriage.

You’re standing on the edges of the train tracks, watching him grin at you from inside. He leaps from the seat with a yelp, almost knocking his head, and he quickly exits the carriage.

What’s wrong? you ask.

He lifts his hand to show you that the seat was wet.

You laugh whole-heartedly and he pouts, but the joy in his eyes betrays him. His poorly-concealed excitement only grows when he looks ahead to see a bridge, breaking out into a run towards it.

You attempt to follow him, still balancing on the edges of the train tracks, quickly giving up when he doesn’t show any signs of waiting for you.

He turns around at the start of the bridge, and you grin at him as you step up onto the train tracks. He steps onto the edge next to yours, your feet moving in sync along those parallel metal lines drawn across the wooden tiles, his arms waving wildly as he fails to keep his balance.

Mingyu shakes his head out when he’s fallen three times, running his hand through his hair, glancing at you with the widest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your sunshine. That’s what he is, walking alongside you as you tread across the train tracks, hands carefully tucked into his pockets, watching your every step.

He speeds up when you hop off the tracks, and you follow him into a neighbourhood with two-story houses. Plants line the sidewalks, with overgrown creepers crawling up the walls and trees overhead shading you from the sun.

He points at the sign and tells you he came here once before, after his mother scolded him. It’s dangerously close to his home, a place that contains memories you can’t be a part of, a place you’re not sure you’re ready to intrude into.

You do anyway.

Mingyu leads you to the playground he’s only been to once before, when he was running away from his mother, and you pass by the empty basketball court.

You love basketball, you tell him, your steps slowing down. He whirls on his heel, looking up at the hoops, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. Really?

Really, you say. You tell him how you used to play basketball during your half-hour long recess in elementary school instead of eating. Even though you were really bad and only played with a group of 5-6 other friends, it was still fun.

He understands.

You teach him how to climb onto the roof of the playground, your hands and feet making holds out of the railings and slides. You show him a view of the world that you loved as a kid, a view that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re unbeatable, invincible, and that the moment will last forever.

Slithering off the roof, you discreetly pull out your phone, but Mingyu spots you quickly enough. Don't film me, he pouts, eyebrows in a knot as his foot staggers around for a foothold.

You laugh and keep your camera pointed at him.

He hops down—ungracefully, you’d like to add; you think you were pretty graceful when jumping down yourself—and beckons you over with his hand.

Mingyu leads you to a sheltered area where the playground floor and gravel gives way to grass and soil, the trees overhead casting so much shade you get the impression that you’re in a rainforest. You can barely see past the crowns of the trees to the sky, which you’re sure is a shade of blue-grey. You can tell that it’s not raining, or the playground would be getting wet, but it isn’t quite sunny yet either.

The creak of a red swing brings your attention back to Mingyu. He smiles at you in warm invitation, and you take it, stepping up onto the swing. Your legs are on the left of his, your knees a fist’s width away from his. Opposite you, Mingyu lifts his eyes to yours and begins to speak.

How’s school, how’s life, how’s that toxic friend group in your dance club? he asks.

Stressful, interesting, shitty as ever, you reply.

He asks things like why, tell me more, is that leadership position working out for you?

You reply with much longer answers than you thought you would. The words flow from you like air leaking from a balloon with a hole. There’s so much pent-up frustration, bottled-up confusion, anxiety, envy, and even sadness you didn’t notice you were suppressing. They find their way out of your mouth in words you're surprised are coherent enough for him to understand, but somehow he manages it.

You’re not the only one telling stories, though. You ask Mingyu questions too, stuff like how’s being drama club president, do you like your juniors, what do you want to do at university?

And he, too, replies with amazing, I love them, I don't know but I’d like to be a counsellor someday.

And you learn.

From his smiles and nervous fidgeting and “um”s, you learn that he’s nervous. From the way he leans forward to talk to you and nods when you speak, you learn that his interest in you is genuine. From the tone of his voice and the smile in his eyes, you learn about his habits of joy and excitement. You pick apart his every move to learn something from it, absorbing a little more knowledge about him each time.

An hour or two passes. As it starts to drizzle again and lunch hour approaches, Mingyu gets up from the swing, not forgetting to hold it while you step off, and goes to the bench to get his tote bag before his things are drenched in the rain.

With a hand above your heads shielding you from the drizzle, the two of you half run-half walk to the mall nearby for lunch, raucous laughter echoing in your ears.

Mingyu offers to pay for your lunch thrice, and you refuse each time, reluctant to let him take money out of his allowance to pay for your meal. He insists you should let him pay for it, telling you that his father will give him more money. Still, you decline.

When he goes to visit the restroom, you quickly take your chance to buy your food before he gets back.

You take a seat successfully and wait for him to return, and he does—not without him trying to slide the bill into your bag first. After a while, he finally gives in, and the two of you settle down for lunch.

Lunch ends at around the same time the sky clears, and the two of you are rushing to climb onto your bicycles and leave before the rain starts up again. The weather has been unpredictable that morning, and you’re unwilling to take your chances. Instead of lingering around the mall, you’re unlocking your bicycle, fiddling with the stubborn lock, and Mingyu waits patiently beside you.

All set? he asks for the second time that day.

You reply the same way, All set.

Then you’re off, legs pedalling furiously, your balance miles better when you’re moving fast. In the morning, you had to keep swerving to avoid knocking into Mingyu at the slow pace you were going, but now you’re just trying to get home before it rains again. Your curfew is pretty early, and if you dally any longer, you’re definitely going to get an earful when you’re home.

Mingyu easily keeps pace with you, following your lead. From time to time, he’ll catch up and ride beside you for a stretch, and then you’ll pedal faster and he’ll fall behind again.

You feel the drizzle beginning when you ring your bell, bypassing yet another jogger on the trail. Cursing, you pick up speed, and Mingyu doesn’t question you as he follows behind.

The rain grows heavier more quickly than you’d expected, and soon there’s a steady stream of water raining down. You wipe futilely at your forehead from time to time, glasses sprayed with raindrops, and Mingyu calls out after you, laughing.

I’m not supposed to cycle in the rain, you tell him. My mum is going to kill me!

He seems to get it, but when you seek shelter under an overhead bridge to wipe your face with the remaining dry part of your T-shirt, he’s laughing at you.

You roll your eyes and point out the bits of water on his face, but he shrugs. You’re going to be cycling through the rain again anyway, so he doesn’t see the need to dry his face.

You clench your jaw, resolved to get home as soon as possible. The two of you climb back onto the bicycle, and start cycling home.

As if trying to deliberately annoy you, the downpour only gets heavier on your way home. It keeps coming down, and you fight to keep your balance and not skid on the watery path. You’re forced to slow down a little, your legs no longer pedalling as fast.

Your anxious heart begins to slow, and Mingyu's calm, sure voice carries over to you, despite the rain falling steadily around you. The sun is still high in the sky, and you wonder if there'll be a rainbow. That would be befitting for Mingyu, you think.

The whole way back, your mind is occupied by Mingyu's questions, his curiosity warming your heart. He genuinely cares about you, and this care distracts you from your fear of reaching home late. All thoughts of what your mother will say go out the window, until he's returned his bicycle and you've parked yours near the subway station, heading to the toilet to change into a new, dry shirt.

Mingyu didn't think to bring change, so he waits for you outside. He offers to help carry your bag, but you insist you can do it yourself. Just the thought that he's there, waiting outside, comforts you.

The two of you walk alongside each other on the way back to your home. You won't stop him from walking you home, especially not when you enjoy his company so much. He mentions something about his future family and you stiffen, afraid that he's jumping the gun. Your commitment issues start to resurface, your mind whirring as your heart jumps into panic mode, but you force yourself to take a few deep breaths and laugh.

He seems too happy to notice how forced your laugh is. Instead, he's asking for your mother's name, repeating it the whole way to make sure he's got it right.

Mrs? he asks.

Aunty, you correct.

Aunty, he repeats, and you nod your head. He asks for your father's, too, and he's still mumbling their names when you come up to the door. You ring the doorbell, and your mother comes to open the door, greeting Mingyu with a warm smile and a hearty welcome.

Come on in, she says. Mingyu shakes his head bashfully.

I've got to be going, he says. See you, Aunty.

You step into the house and wave at him until he's out of sight, your mother watching his retreating figure with you.

He seems like a nice boy, she says.

Oh, he is.

#k-labels #🪁 — my works #seventeen #mingyu #highschool au #mingyu x gn!reader #mingyu highschool au #mingyu x reader #mingyu x yn #mingyu x y/n

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soubeomies · 3 months

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pairing ; leehan x gn!reader

genre ; obviously fluff!! :3

warnings ; none (probably)

a/n ; hi im back hehe SORRY I TOOK A HUGE SUDDEN LEAVE LOL, but i hope i can be more active <3

you and leehan had been dating for a little over a year now. though you both havent hung out for awhile since his schedule was so packed due to his idol duties. you always texted him asking when he would be able to hang out again, but of course, he would either be in dance practice, recording variety shows, recording new songs, or he would be on tour. you knew he always tried his best to make time for you, but its especially hard because of his schedule. you knew it wasnt his fault, but you couldnt help but feel sad.

you woke up this morning, ready to just spend another day with your usual cycle of doing absolutely nothing but scrolling through your phone all day.. and maybe waiting for a text from leehan?

you had just finished breakfast, you were just sitting on your couch as you scrolled through tiktok while sipping on your coffee ( or any preferred drink! ). you were mindlessly scrolling, until .. ding! a notification– FROM LEEHAN?!?!?!

–

and just like that, he left you on read. you chuckled to yourself, “where could he be taking me?” you muttered to yourself with a small grin on your face. you got ready, dressing up, but not too much. you looked at yourself in the mirror as you did your hair, and put on multiple accessories to see which ones suited you better. you finished up as you smiled, you cant help yourself but feel super excited cause leehan was finally taking you out!

you waited for him as you made sure you had everything you needed in your bag, powerbank, hairties, bottled water, hand sanitizer, tissues, and–

ding dong! the sound of your doorbell. you quickly zipped your bag up and dusted your clothes off before getting up and rushing over to the door. you practically yanked the door open as you saw your boyfriend, leehan, standing at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers.

he had a slight rosy hue on his cheeks as he smiled, “flowers.. for you?..” he muttered as he handed them to you in a flustered manner. you smiled at him and leaned in and hugged him tightly. he couldnt help himself but hug you back. “i missed you..” he muttered into the crook of your neck as you feel his warm breath against your skin. you both pull away gently.

“soo.. where are you taking me, hm?” you said as you trailed behind him to his car which was parked in your driveway. “just wait and see!!” he replied, he seemed really excited. you were still curious as he didnt budge to tell you where he was taking you.

–

an hour of driving passed as you arrived to a building.. it was an aquarium! you smiled as you looked at him. “aquarium date?” you said to him with a small smile on your face. “mhm! are you excited?! i’ve always wanted to take you to an aquarium!” he said as he drove to the parking lot. he parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt as he got out of the car and opened your door aswell. he held you hand as he helped you out of the car as you both walked into the building.

upon entering, he opened his phone and showed it to the security as they scanned the qr for the tickets as they both let you in. hand in hand, you both admired the aquarium and its atmosphere together. even though it was rather crowded, you both felt like it was just the two of you. as you walked, leehan kept talking about the fishes there, giving you fun facts and everything. you didnt even have to read the descriptions of the fishes anymore, cause leehan had it all covered :)

#soubeomies #fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #boynextdoor #leehan #bnd #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bnd leehan #boynextdoor x you #bnd x you #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor fluff

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fionayao2008 · 1 year

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Tripod Turnstile Overview Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, as well as Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern-day control tools for pedestrian passages. They are utilized in position where the entryway and departure of individuals require to be controlled, such as clever neighborhoods, canteens, resorts, galleries, gymnasiums, clubs, metros, stations, docks, etc area. Using Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and Flap Turnstile can make the flow of individuals orderly. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, Flap Turnstile are utilized in mix with smart cards, fingerprints, barcodes as well as other recognition system devices to develop an intelligent accessibility control channel control system; they are made use of in mix with computer systems, access control, attendance, billing monitoring, ticket systems as well as other software to create a The intelligent Turnstile Gate thorough administration system can realize features such as gain access to control, presence, usage, ticketing, and existing limiting. This Turnstile Gate management system is part of the "all-in-one card" as well as is set up at passages such as neighborhoods, factories, smart buildings, canteens, and so on. It can finish different management functions such as worker card traveling control, presence at leave job and also meals, and eating. Tripod Turnstile system attributes Convenient and also quick: review the card in and out with one swipe. Use the authorized IC card and wave it in front of the smart Tripod Turnstile visitor to complete the Tripod Turnstile gate opening as well as fee recording work. The card reading is non-directional as well as the analysis and also creating time is 0.1 secs, which is rapid and also convenient. Safety and security and privacy: Use history or neighborhood confirmation, licensed issuance, and one-of-a-kind identification, that is, the card can just be made use of in this system, as well as it is secure and private. Integrity: Card superhigh frequency induction, steady and also trusted, with the capability to judge as well as assume. Adaptability: The system can flexibly set entrance and also departure control workers consents, time period control, cardholder legitimacy and also blacklist loss reporting, adding cards and also various other functions. Versatility: Through authorization, the user card can be utilized for "one-card" monitoring such as car parking, attendance, gain access to control, patrol, intake, etc, making it simple to realize numerous uses one card. Simpleness: Easy to mount, simple to link, the software application has a Chinese interface and is very easy to run. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern-day control gadgets for pedestrian flows. The usage of Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile can make the circulation of people organized. Make use of the accredited IC card as well as wave it in front of the clever Tripod Turnstile viewers to complete the Tripod Turnstile gate opening as well as fee recording work.

#Tripod Turnstiles Gates #Strike Locks #Ball Lock Bolts #Security Bollard #Led Bollard Light #Cctv Video Cameras #Card Windshield Tag #Cloud Access Control #Uhf Induristal Reader #Qr Code Reader By Scan

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raven-cincaide · 2 months

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𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 '𝓔𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓭'

Summary: In drunken stupidity, you bought one of those fancy new-on-the-market AI robots that made the outrageous claim of being able to bring your ‘anime interest to life’. You knew it was just a scam the second the payment bounced back to you. Or so you thought, until one morning, a 2x1 meter crate is delivered to your apartment with a Megumi Fushiguro inside who looks, acts and feels oddly human. But will you really get the love you were promised or is 'Love Ensured' just a morbid, twisted scam?

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Megumi Fushiguro Warnings: Cursing, Modern setting, slow burn, reverse- Isekai- ish, aged-up, Fluff/comedy(?)- cuz god knows Megumi fans need a laugh. Future chapters may contain violence and mild romance/suggestive themes, a hint of adventure and mystery.

‘Thank you for your purchase from Love Ensured- we guarantee an authentic and unique experience with your favorite anime love interest: Megumi Fushiguro. All the initial set up has been completed for your convenience. Please follow the manual to awaken your interest and see your love blossom to life!’ You read, and then re-read the standard text, typed out in golden cursive letters on the front of a black thank-you card before turning said card over. You expected to find the manual attached; like on brand new phones where loose papers would slide out the second you opened the box, or maybe a QR code you could scan which would take you to a user-friendly guide. Hell you would even accept the boomer style printed web link which you’d have to manually type in.

At this point you weren’t picky.

“The hell?” You flip the card back over to see if you had missed anything. Then raised it to the light in hopes that some invisible ink would appear like magic. But the golden text remained the same and no new information appeared. Disappointed, you huffed and tossed the thing carelessly to the side before turning back to the newly opened gigantic box that was blocking your entire hallway.

The 2 x 1 meter crate had been delivered to your apartment earlier that morning without any prior warning, and it was by mere luck that you were home to let the delivery men inside. But not before arguing with them for fifteen minutes that you had not bought anything quite so outrageous. In your defense, the crate was not only huge but plain in design with only the company's logotype etched discreetly into each corner of the box in small black letters; ‘Love Ensured’. No other information was provided, and no hint given to the content inside. It wasn’t until you remembered a drunken purchase followed by the odd experience of your money returning back into your account due to some banking error six months earlier that you finally made sense of the crate and let the delivery men into your apartment.

Still that did not explain why this thing was taking up your entire hallway. But curiosity got the better of you. The first thing you noted was that the crate was not only awkwardly huge but also unbearably heavy, and you were thankful that the five delivery men had brought it into your apartment. A pity that they dumped it laying down in the middle of the floor with no way for you to move it.

Opening the box has been just as an impossible feat as moving it; the lid was both glued, tied down with enormous zip ties and hammered shut with several thick nails. It had taken you all of two hours to get it open; at the cost of several broken knives, damaged hands and fingernails and ultimately, the need to leave your apartment to buy a crowbar. The mess you created littered the hallway floor.

But you didn’t care. You stopped caring about any mess or otherwise the second you came face to face with the lanky, pale skin man laying inside the box. Eyes closed, long lashes and pale cheeks. A sharp jawline and lips set in a firm line. Your eyes ran upwards, taking in the spiky looking hair that somehow retained its shape; then down to the base of his neck. You could see the protruding Adam's apple, noting how thick his neck was- like a real man's neck- not the skinny thing you, your friends and any average male friend in your life had. Megumi was firm in his build; broad shoulders hidden beneath the casual loose black long sleeved shirt which ended at the wrists, showing off his large hands. He wore matching loose black pants and a pair of black socks. For a moment you couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could have such large feet. Then again, if he was really 175 cm tall then it was only natural that he had feet to match.

Looking him over again, you couldn’t help a flicker of disappointment in your chest; if you were going to pay a ridiculous amount of money for a doll- because you were certain the company would come after you for their rightful payment- the least you expected was for him to be anime accurate with Jujutsu Kaisen uniform and all.

You tore your eyes away from his body and looked for the manual inside the box. To your surprise, the inside was just as rough as the shipping crate; Megumi was laying on a literal bed of straw. You could see some of it peeking out from within the simple white cotton blanket case which kept the straw bed together. There were no other items inside; no manual, no stands or chargers. No shoes for his feet, and strangely enough, no contact information to ‘Love Ensured’. Your eyes flickered back down to the black card with golden letters lying on your hallway floor. The luxury design of the card and the detail put into Megumi’s appearance did not match the haphazard budget shipping crate and straw bed. A silky bed or at the very least a cushion would have been more in the same style. “Talk about mixed signals” You muttered with a sigh.

Then you finally turned back to Megumi. You couldn’t help but admire his build; his tall height and well trained body was exactly how you expected him to be. His pale skin was also anime accurate and you couldn’t help your curiosity as you reached out a finger to poke his cheek, eager to know if he would be rock hard like a mannequin, or rubbery to mimic real skin. Before you could touch him, a large rough hand reached up with lightning fast reflexes and caught your wrist. His hold was ice cold and tight, almost bruising, making you let out a frightened scream.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” His voice was deep, husky, just shy of a growl which made snakes play ping-pong in your stomach, while your treacherous heart beat faster, faster, faster. Piercing blue eyes opened, narrowed, and stared up at you with a deadly glare.

You gulped, feeling your cheeks flush as your shocked mind attempted to process what was happening. A wry thought crossed your mind; You should have looked better for that damned manual.

“Money can’t not buy happiness, but it can buy you the kind of misery you prefer.” ~ Unknown Author Notes! 2x1 m is about 80 x 40 inches; 175 cm = 5' 9" This fic came to be because my feed is filled in angsty Megumi fics yet lacked comedy/fluff piece. So, for all who need something that's a little 'out there' to handle JJK manga, hope you enjoyed?

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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sashi-ya · 11 months

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東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷𝑺ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ichigo kurosaki x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. adult! ichigo takes you to a winter date to the tokyo tower, climb the steps by his hand, let him guide you the sky.

requested by: @cofeedaifuku ➡ Hello! It has been a really long time since I last requested, so I’m a little shy, but knowing that you are the one that is going to receive it calms me down. Can I request Adult! Ichigo with the prompt to see the tokyo tower at night? Nsfw, female reader she/her, (I’m really bad with requests so I don’t know if I should describe the details of the ask, but in any case, something like Ichigo just loves his s/o so much and he just looks at her and completely loses control. Please ignore this if it is not the case.) tw: MDNI. slight nsfw. adult! ichigo. masturbation through the clothes. wc: 1.7k masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤHis hand feels warm, powerful too. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤYour hand, in his, feels tiny… protected.

“Can you make some time for me?” that’s how he asked; Ichigo had red apples for cheeks when he did. Your eyes shined like five-point stars; you waited for him to ask you out since forever…

Through the cold streets of Tokyo, the frosting sound beneath your feet sound like cracking. The trees, all of them decorated with silver fairy lights. A gleaming spectacle to the eyes, contrasting with the visible glooming cold of December.

Christmas is right around the corner; the streets are busier than ever. People carry big bags with gifts during a Saturday night, but both of you aren’t buying stuff.

“Have you ever been to the Tokyo tower during winter?” Ichigo asks, stuttering. For some reason, he can be a totally different man when it comes to be all alone with you.

“I never been there during the winter season! I am excited to see the lights!” you chime, so happy your heart could jump out of your chest. Spending time alone with him feels like a dream come true.

Ichigo smiles softly, his eyes flutter to the ground in sign of happiness but still total shyness. “I am glad I chose a good spot, then” he murmurs, scratching the back of his head.

You nod, with a lovely beam. You wish to tell him any spot with him would be perfect, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s not proper?

As you wait for the light street to turn to green, he fidgets with his fingers. His eyes are fixed on your hanging hand, the ginger man is dying to hold it.

You notice, and internally giggle. You help him, letting your sleeve slightly go up. There is no point on acting more shy than him.

Soon enough -or at least right when the red light turns to green- Ichigo snatches your hand. It’s not delicate, it is clumsy but definitely dominant, the way he grabs you and pulls you through the crowd.

Your eyes shine brightly with the lights all around, and the wind plays with your hair looking like the typical shoujo scenes.

Your sight wanders and lands on the freckled cheeks of the strawberry boy; a little blush garnishes his skin, but he has that look of fearless man you know too well. He has decided to stop being shy, to finally get what he came to gain.

A few more steps and your eyes get blessed by the imponent look of the Tokyo Tower in front of you. The red metallic pieces now shine lights of different silver shades. And as you look up, a halo of cold mist surrounds its upper levels.

“Beautiful” you murmur, causing in Ichigo to gasp and look right into your eyes.

“You… you are…” he mumbles, immediately looking away with long orange lashes that cast beautiful shadows over his galaxy cheeks.

You bite your lower lip with a smile, how cute…

“Let’s hurry up, or we aren’t gonna be able to get there before it closes” he tells you, pulling you softly towards the entrance where a man kindly scans the Qr codes from different tickets. You nod and follow him, never once letting you go from your hand.

Once inside, while most of the people decide to take the elevator, both of you chose to climb the 600 steps of the outside stairs. It’s a lot more magical to see the lights of the city as you go up, even if the cold air may seem painful to your lungs. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

You follow him, with the sound of your feet hitting the metallic steps and the heart pumping as hard as them. The more you climb, the more beautiful the city looks beneath your feet.

Ichigo turns around to look at you from time to time, and he is smiling preciously. A beam that he rarely has on his face, but that is big enough to make his brown eyes squint.

The first checkpoint gets cleared, 200 steps in. Then the second one, this time with a little more difficulty. 400 steps, laughing and almost running are a lot more than what your body is used to. However, you want to keep going, but you definitely need to catch some air first.

“Wai-wait Ichigo” you giggle, taking some deep breath of humid cold air through your mouth.

“Oh… sorry, I- I didn’t mean to make you run that much- I…” he excuses himself, watching you with guilty puppy eyes.

You simply laugh. It is more than okay. If you wanna keep up with him, you need to train. He is an amazing substitute Shinigami, and not only that but the stronger ever made; the least you can do is to be able to climb some steps fast enough to catch up with him.

“No worries Kurosaki-kun. I just needed a little bit of air; let’s go” you rush to keep climbing, even if you are clearly not recuperated still. Your head is a little bit dizzy, your legs a little weak.

You try to walk towards him, but you feel like everything around turns dark for some seconds. And Ichigo notices right away.

“(Name)? are you ok?” he urges you for an answer while his arms surround your tired body with his protective embrace.

You would lie if you said you were feeling bad; after all Ichigo is now hugging you. Nothing could go wrong.

“I am fine… I just got a little lightheaded” you whisper, looking up at him. Your nose barely grazing the sharp jaw of the Shinigami. Looking how his Adam’s apple move as he swallows in clear sign of nervousness.

And even if you wanted to move away from his arms, you couldn’t as he kept pulling you closer, tightly against his chest.

The scent of his soft perfume mixed with the one his winter skin has, reminds you how much you desire him. You want him, you want to praise him, and you also want his lips against your lips.

“Please, rest for some minutes more…” he mumbles, this time delicately pushing your head towards his chest. “You need to breathe calmly…” he continues, enjoying perhaps a lot more than he should the closeness of your skin against his.

You don’t dare to argue; you don’t want to. You just want for him to hug you so eternally, and even after too. You nod, nuzzled in the little crook that his prominent collar bones form in the middle of his chest. The little patch of visible skin in between his scarf and white big coat, is all you need to rest assure for the rest of your life.

His hand slowly goes down to the small of your back; his touch is not indecent, it is caring and loving and despite that, the sexual tension in between both of you is undeniable.

You place your ear on his chest, letting yourself go with the song of his beating heart… allowing yours to beat in perfect synchronicity with it. Your eyes open, and they get filled by the view of a city that never seems to sleep, with neon lights flashing all over long, long streets.

Ichigo does the same, both look through the metallic red protective net for some minutes until a little white fluff falling from the sky catches your attention.

“It’s snowing…” you whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. “How beautiful, it is the first one this year”

“Yes…” Ichigo sighs, with trembling voice and reiatsu growing stronger inside the very core of his body. He is gaining strength, or perhaps thinking carefully about his next actions… what he is about to do, might change the destiny of both.

You know it too; when it’s right, you just know…

“Ichigo, I…” you murmur, looking up at him with your eyes plastered on his lips. Giving him the permission to kiss you once, and as many times as he want.

With the same hand he wields his zanpakuto to protect, he now grabs your chin and rather desperately kisses your lips. When your mouths crash against the other, both let some air scape your lungs, living off each other’s souls. More and more, deepening the kiss, melting into one.

The light show of the tower, the last of tonight, begins. Nobody seems to notice you two, neither you notice the lasers blinking through the heavy atmosphere of cold and snowflakes falling.

His hands, this time pooling in the small of your back in concupiscent intention, pulls you closer than ever before. You notice how much of a man he has become; grown up to be stronger and also to be sexier, mature, extremely attractive.

Your belly, feeling the hardness growing in between Ichigo’s winter clothes. Your legs, quivering as his tongue plays with yours in wet, lustful kiss.

The loud songs coming from inside, accompanying the light spectacle, letting your moans to be unheard by the rest as his hands slips so needy in between your tights from under your flannel skirt.

Ichigo’s fingertips get wet, as they rub against your stockings. You shiver and jolt, as he presses right in the spot. The graze of the tights and panties on your clit makes you whine louder into his mouth. A moan he eats so pleased, so hectically.

“I-Ichigo… I….” you stutter, so close to the very first climax of the night… just by the simple touch of his hands with your clothes still on.

“I know… I know… I am sorry, I couldn’t stop myself no more…” he sighs, kissing your forehead but never stopping the circular motions on your core. “I just love you so damn much, (Name)…” he finally confesses, breathing your last moan before you could melt right there, into a mess of sexual desire unleashed and pleased.

“I… I am… Ichigo…” “I know, let’s go back to the hotel… I wouldn’t like you catching a cold, we can come back tomorrow…It was a good idea to come all the way from Karakura town to Tokyo with you 💖~”

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hellsburners · 1 year

Text

orange juice

summary: you're a new library assistant in an elementary school and you cant help but fall for the cute teacher visiting your desk. pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader word count: 2.2k (im being ballsy with these fic lengths its actually fun) warnings: none really more of fluff a/n: was in a fluff writing mood :> (might get a part 2 if it gets received well)

masterlist | more peter parker

You did everything by the book, literally. There was a handbook resting on the front desk of the library with everything you needed to do as an assistant. You took the books back to the shelves and made sure it was in the right order. You tidied up the library computers making sure every unit was logged off and the chairs weren’t a mess. You also took note of orders from the teachers, some lists from Mr. Jones, Mrs. Longford, Mr. Hayward, and Mr. Parker. You stretched your arms and legs, cracked your neck, and gave a little prayer to the universe that you wish your formal first day will be good.

Ding!

The bell on your desk pinged. A man, probably in his early 40s, stood in front of you. He wore a loose shirt with a pale pink tie, his hair was brown and sparse.

“Mr. Parker?”

“I’m sorry, I’m Roy Jones, from the math department,” he responds. You gave an embarrassed oh and gave him his stack of books.

“Sorry, it’s my first day.”

“All good kiddo, you haven’t seen trouble yet, good luck on your first day,” Mr. Jones gave a kind smile before walking away.

By 8:30 am the students came rushing to your door, you logged borrowed books, received returns, you even did the occasional hush to students being loud, it was going smoothly. The kid in front of you was borrowing a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, an excellent choice you thought. You scanned the QR code inside the book, logged in the student’s info and you kindly smiled while giving the book away. Hours passed of you sitting around, sipping on an orange juice box. By 11 am at least 3 students were studying.

Ding!

Oh. The man standing in front of you was tall and handsome, probably in his mid-30s, he wore a neat suit in neutral colors, and his brown hair was combed to the side. You placed your juice box down.

“Mr. Hayward?” you traced your fingers on the sticky notes on your desk.

“Parker, Peter Parker,” he replied. Shit, not again.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Parker.” you shook your head.

“First day, huh?” you nodded shamefully. He gave you a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry,” you took the stack of books with the label Mr. Parker on it. He reached out to take the heavy books, your fingers were slightly touching. Your cheeks warmed from the contact. There was a certain pleasingness in his presence. You scanned the pile trying to spark a conversation. “So you teach physics?”

“Yeah, 8th and 9th actually,” he carries the books in his arms, he may look lean but you could see the way his arms flexed under his suit. “Are you new to the city?”

“Well kinda, I was born here but my family and I moved out when I was 5. I figured coming here in the city could give me more opportunities,” his brows would raise while you talked, making you feel like whatever words came out of your mouth he listened to intently. “How about you? Did you grow up here?”

“I grew up with my aunt, went to Midtown for high school, and Empire State in college. So, yeah, full-time New Yorker here,” he chuckled. “My daughter and I still live in Queens too.”

“Daughter?” you said shockingly. He looked down at his toes, and he laughed again, that soft deep laugh. “Sorry, you don’t look like one”

“I don’t look like a dad?” he said.

“I mean you look pretty young,” you bit the insides of your cheeks. “I’m sorry I must have been taking up too much of your time Mr. Parker, ‘twas a lovely chat though.”

“Oh it’s fine, I’m on lunch break anyway.” you waved him goodbye and he reciprocates the gesture. “By the way, Peter is fine, just Peter.”

He leaves, and you sit back down on your desk, your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. Your knees felt funny like they were going to give out. Oh, god. You were crushing on the physics teacher.

Before your shift ended Mrs. Longford called and said she couldn’t go to the library due to her pregnancy. You gladly said you would deliver her the books instead. On the way to her room, you couldn’t properly find her classroom, they all looked the same to you, so you went one by one, looking through the windows and checking to see if Mrs. Longford was there. By the eighth classroom, you could see him. Not Mrs. Longford, but Peter. He was demonstrating the law of inertia to the class, making a funny action of being hit in the hip by force, and the class laughed. He seems nice, and the students all listened to him, taking in every word of his lesson. It was admirable really, to have such charisma over a bunch of impressionable kids and use it to educate them.

The bell rings, and a swarm of students floods the halls. The books in your arms fall as a student bumps into you. You cursed, bending down to pick them up while a pair of arms reached out to help you. It was Peter, he had ditched the suit jacket at this point, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show his veiny arms.

“Thank you, I was looking for Mrs. Hayward’s classroom and I couldn’t find it,” you hugged the book while Peter carried the other stack.

“Mrs. Hayward’s room is in the other wing. Don’t worry I’ll walk you to it.”

“Oh no, you must have another class, I can find my way.” you try to take the books but he moves away.

“No it’s fine, my day is done. Let me walk you to her room.” he smiles, again, that pretty Peter smile.

On the way to Mrs.Longford’s room, you talked about your education, where you went to high school, and in college, and where you live now. The conversation later went to his daughter, Mayday, named after his aunt who has sadly passed. She was 5 years old and in first grade, a smart girl, he says.

You reached the 3rd door in the left wing. Peter told you that the lady with short hair and red cat-eyed glasses was Mrs.Longford, the baby bump also verified his claim. You knocked, and she waved at you with a smile, you and Peter went in to bring the books. Peter and Mrs. Longford exchanged greetings and talked about an upcoming faculty meeting. You asked Mrs. Longford to sign some papers for the book requests she had made and she obliged.

Peter walked you back to the library. You continued to chat about random things, your favorite food (he was pizza), your favorite color (he was blue), and your favorite movie (his was Interstellar). You unlocked the library and turned the lights back on. You went back to your desk and Peter took a seat at a nearby desk. You stared at him, arms crossed, legs spread.

✎𓇢𓆸

Weeks passed, and Peter had been visiting you in the library. Usually, he’d stay to check student papers or read new scientific publications on the school computers, he was nerdy about stuff like that; but most of the time, he just stayed around to talk to you. He would talk to you about Mayday’s science project, which you helped him come up with. It was an iced tea stand presentation that used butterfly pea flower tea and lemon juice, and it changed the blue liquid to a bright purple. She won a silver prize, Peter says.

Peter had mentioned before that Mayday lives with her mom and that she rarely gets to see her dad. You could see the way the line his mouth would make and how it would frown sometimes when he talked about her. You wanted to give him some piece of comfort, but every time he would smile because it was Mayday, it was his only girl.

You were at your desk enjoying a sandwich with your favorite orange juice box, Peter sat on the floor next to you hidden from anyone who came to the desk. He, too, enjoyed a sandwich you made. You scrolled through your laptop, mainly on the news.

“Hey Pete, have you ever seen Spider-man?” you said, Peter almost choked on his food.

“Spider-man?” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I mean you’ve been here your whole life you must’ve seen him right?” you took a sip of your drink. Peter thought long before he answered.

“No, I haven’t,” he whispered.

“Boo! You’re boring,” you threw an eraser at him.

“Hey! It’s not my fault he doesn’t swing by my apartment once in a while.”

“Well, I wish he’d come by mine, take me into his arms as we swing away into the sunset,” you waved your arms around thwipping your hands like Spider-man.

“You’re so silly,” he laughs, he takes a big bite of his sandwich, talking to you while chewing. “You know, Mayday’s been asking about you, she said she wants to thank the guy that helped her come up with her science project.”

“She said that?” you were touched.

“Well, I wanted to invite you, and she told me we haven't celebrated her win so why not invite the guy who helped her,” he finished his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”

“Friday night right? I’m in.” You smiled.

You knocked at the light blue apartment door, you could hear some ruckus inside. Coming! A man’s voice yells. The doorknob turns and there he was, Peter Parker, dressed in a light gray sweater, the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. Behind his leg was a little girl with light red hair.

“Hey there, I’m glad you could come. This is Mayday,” she was shy but she gave you a little wave and a hi.

Dinner started in a few. Peter served baked macaroni and a Caesar salad. Mayday brought a plate of cookies she made, without her dad’s help, she said (Peter shook his head). You brought a box of pepperoni pizza as per Mayday's (and Peter’s) request. The three of you talked over dinner about how proud you were about the medal and if she ever needed help you would gladly be there.

After dinner, Peter took the dishes, you went to help but he insisted you not. You were left with Mayday in the living room, she was talking about her favorite book, a book about planets. Venus was her favorite, she says. You began to talk to her about the many books you have on planets in your library and if her dad permitted, you would lend some.

“Do you like dad?” you were surprised.

“Yeah, he’s nice,” you offered her a smile, and she gave you a curious gaze instead.

“Dad is always alone.” you looked back at Peter in the sink, the fabric stretching on his back.

“You’re here,” you stroked her hair. ��Your dad always tells me stories about you y’know.”

“But when I’m with Mom he’s all alone.”

“What are you two talking about,” Peter stands above you and Mayday, his hands on his hips.

“We were talking about your hair. Mayday said you’re starting to look like a sasquatch.” Mayday giggles.

A few hours later Peter took Mayday to bed. Mayday hugged you and told you goodnight. You bend down to hug her and she tells you to be Dad’s best friend, always. You were sitting on the couch with your hands on your lap. You looked around the place, filled with books and a bunch of Mayday’s stuff. It seems like Peter just lets her stuff stay there, so as not to forget about her presence. Your eyelids begin to fall as you let out a yawn.

“Sleepy?” he mutters.

“Just a bit. My head is just filled with so many facts about space,” you made a mind-blown gesture, Peter laughs.

“She does that a lot actually.” Peter sits beside you on the couch, keeping his eyes on yours.

“She’s a lovely kid,” you smiled.

“She is,” Peter sank his head on the couch, his eyes closed.

“You think I’m alone?” he frowns. “I heard you two earlier.”

“I don’t think so. You have me,” you mutter. Your hands fall on your sides meeting his. He laces your fingers with his, you could feel the warmth of his palms with your cold ones. He chuckles. “It’s pretty late, maybe you should get some rest too.”

“You’re right, let me bring you home first,” you refused.

“I’d be fine,” you assure him.

You were outside the apartment. Peter was with you in just his flip-flops, his hand never leaving yours. “I had a wonderful night.”

“Me too,’ Peter said, he took his other hand and patted your hair. You looked at him with hooded eyes, his hand falling to your cheek. You inched closer, your face so close to his chest you could smell him, like an ocean breeze. His face gets close to yours, the moment seemingly getting more tense. His thumb rubs your hand, over and over, it calms you. Underneath the moonlight, your lips meet. A tender kiss weeks in the making. Your eyes closed and you lost yourself in him. Your lips leave him a few moments later, a smile plastered on both your faces. You hail a taxi cab and when one comes, you wave him goodbye.

But you swore that night, the moment you entered your apartment, you swore you saw the Spider-man swing by, almost like he was waiting for you to come home.

part two posted here

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x male reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x male reader fluff #spider-man fic #spider-man x reader #spider-man x male reader

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hsr-texts · 1 year

Text

find your cinderella

꒰‧₊˚✩彡‧꒱ ┊ ━━━━ chapter one

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ streamer!reader x mystery hsr character ꒱

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ otome event ꒱

꒰ ☰ WORD COUNT ┊780 ꒱

꒰ ☰ DESCRIPTION ┊ ━━ When you do an unboxing livestream for your subsribers, you find an invite to an exclusive event called the "Find Your Cinderella" masquerade gala where you are guaranteed to find your supposed true love, as a rather enthusiastic manager told you. ꒱

꒰ ☰ NOTES ┊omg sorry for the long wait!! i was taking care of my college admissions, exercising, and taking care of my aunt all at the same time!! ꒱

previously ┊masterlist

You read the livechat so far. It seemed that the majority wanted you to go.

It was understandable why. This all seemed to be so exciting for regular people who don’t get to go to these events. In your career as a streamer, most of your appeal to viewers came from how relatable you were. Of course, there was also your gaming content but most your subscribers seem to just be happy to watch you do fun stuff. And in their eyes, this event would be the most fun thing you’ll ever get to do.

Despite how strange this all seemed, it probably shouldn’t hurt to go, right? Sugo said that something good will come out of it no matter what happens. Plus, if you didn’t go, would you regret it? Would you later lie in bed late at night, thinking of what could’ve been? Would your curiosity ever stop bugging you about it?

Also 500,000 credits sounded real good for just going to a party and tolerating it.

You clasped your hands together. “Alright then! I’ll be attending the Find Your Cinderella Gala and see what it’s about!”

Your chat cheered for the decision.

You then noticed the time. 12 midnight.

“Aw man, sorry guys but it’s getting pretty late so I’ll be logging off now. I’ll see you guys next time!”

With one last farewell wave, you switched off the stream and checked the statistics. Wow, it seemed to be at an all time high. At least Sugo was right about one thing. It’d only be a matter of time until the news of this gala spread like wildfire.

You found a QR code on the back of the ticket so you scanned it with your phone. It led to a website for the FYC Gala.

You clicked the “attending” button, leaning back on your seat. Seeing the dress code, you checked the package once again and saw that the outfit came with shoes, accessories, and a mask already. Huh, they really prepared everything for you. At least you wouldn’t have to spend extra money. Getting that limited edition LumiPro package already put a slight dent in your finances, after all.

It finished loading and you read the words: “Added to the guest list”

A yawn escaped your lips.

You got off the chair and went over your nightly routine before passing out in your bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep—

Click.

You pulled your hand away from your alarm and sat up, yawning. Taking a glance at your clock, you saw that it was 9am.

After a round of stretching, you got off your bed and made a beeline for the kitchen.

You decided to eat tocilog for breakfast so you started cooking rice, eggs, and tocino. A pleasant scent wafted through the kitchen as the meal was being cooked. You let out a delighted sigh, enjoying the smell of a good meal in the morning.

After the meal was finished cooking, you sat down at your dining table to eat it. You made a pleased noise as you ate, satisfied with how the meal came out.

Ding!

You checked your phone and saw that you got a message from your editor, Cori.

Huh? Your eyebrows furrowed so you sent a quick reply and did as asked, looking at online news.

“Streamer’s Unboxing Stream Gets Hijacked By LumiPro Event Organiser in Publicity Stunt”

You checked LumiTube and clips of your stream have been uploaded on there, rapidly gaining over a million views within 12 hours. Damn.

Taking a sip of your water, you leaned back with a contemplative expression on your face. What should you stream today?

With your current status as a streamer that recently became viral, you could take advantage of that and do a stream where you prepare for the FYC Gala by going to a salon and letting viewers watch you get your nails and hair done, then maybe also booking a makeup artist for before the gala, if needed.

But since there was still about two weeks until the gala, you figured there was no rush.

Besides that, you could do a gaming stream since you still need to complete Freya’s Gate 5.

As if a light bulb flickered above your head, your eyes lit up and you took your phone out, logging onto Trotter.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

A series of typing noises came from your phone and you pressed post.

This way, you can let your followers choose what you'll be doing today without having to do the heavy work of making a decision, truly a predicament for someone as indecisive as yourself.

And now you just wait for the results.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #gepard x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader #dan heng x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #luocha x reader #jing yuan x reader

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