#This fic is very self indulgent don't come for me lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeonghantis · 1 year

Text

✧ — NO INHIBITIONS, STRANGE CONDITIONS.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

road safety could not hold you back from wanting your boyfriend despite how stupid of a idea it is. kim mingyu was just as stupid.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, smut, pwp.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader but with female parts & wears skirts, distracted driving (DRIVE SAFELY PLEASE), explicit sexual content (MINORS, DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 3.7k words.

note: welp. LOL! mingyu driving drove me mad. this is 2 of 2 fics in celebration of mingyu month. a complete 180 from the first one i fink! oops! and yes i'm aware it's may now and i apologize deeply. but celebrating mingyu should be an all-time thing. the title is taken from the song leaving me feeling confident by the driver era. don't think the song would go specifically with the fic, i just liked the wording. this is completely self-indulgent so as always, not proofread hehe. not as good as i hoped it would be but i hope you enjoy regardless.

reblog for kim mingyu. thats it. (and to support me).

smut tags under the cut.

SMUT TAGS ⇝ ROAD HEAD! (dick sucking while driving), dom/sub dynamics, switch!mingyu, switch!reader, mingyu is kinda sub until he's not, reader is dom until they're not, size kink (reader is smaller than mingyu), use of the petname "darling" "baby" & "angel", dirty talk, praise (reader gets called "pretty"), degradation (whore, slut), hairpulling, mild begging, groping, oral (m), fingering (f), gagging, throatfucking, cunt slapping (once), cum eating, mingyu is ROUGH (man does not know his own strength but is caring afterwards), reader being used as a toy, cockdumb and cock hungry reader, reader probably got major oral fixation, big dick!mingyu like Big Big (could imagine mingyu being ridiculously big or reader just has small hands).

Wandering hands had become quite a shared habit, how natural it was for their fingers to gravitate towards each other. It was always welcomed, of course, when it acted as a need of comfort from the other. When there was not one moment where they were not craving for each other.

But this was a problem. Several problems. Two very conflicting problems.

First, not only is your hand caressing him at the moment, it’s artfully roving over to his crotch. And Mingyu truly loved your bold actions and might have appreciated it if it had been within the confines of their apartment. But it was in the confines of his car, in the middle of a highway.

Second, the problem to the first problem, was that this was his wet dream come true.

It’s a no-brainer what should be deemed more urgent. Mingyu didn’t want to careen their vehicle over the edge and risk their very lives for the sake of getting his dick wet.

But.

But the danger, although he knows it should, doesn’t entirely frighten him. It was a wet dream for a reason.

But Mingyu should be smart about this. He has to be smart about this.

Meanwhile, you’re thinking you may be utterly stupid about this.

Most times, you would consider yourself a cautious person—someone who would always second-guess every decision, and hell, maybe third or even fourth-guessed. Truly, you were an overthinker. Sometimes, you wished you could just stop thinking altogether.

And that time has come now. There was absolutely no question of your decision, not even a single thought process done, when you reached to palm your boyfriend’s clothed dick. You only knew that you were being ridiculous, but it was because Mingyu looked ridiculously hot right now driving the way he does, glancing at you and smiling the way he does. What the hell were you supposed to do?

What you’re saying next is entirely pulled out of the shallowest part of your brain riddled with unbridled lust. And it challenges Mingyu’s logic and worsens his agony.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” you ask innocently, peering at him with big, curious eyes.

“I might kill us both, babe,” Mingyu said, pearly canines bared when he wore a strenuous smile. He spares an urgent glance at how your hand sits perfectly atop his growing erection, nails dragging on denim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I trust that you won’t. You’re a good driver,” you claim, smiling sharply as you give him a tilt of your head. “Is that a no?”

There was no immediate response from him, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road that lay ahead. Yet, you still caught the clench of his jaw under the flash of a streetlamp, the whitening of his knuckles. It was insanely unfair how Mingyu could still look so gorgeous when frustration twisted his features—or was it you who simply loved seeing his frustrations?

Mingyu weighed his options. Their apartment was still many ways away, he doesn’t know if he could tough it out for that long. He’s thankful the highway is nearly void of other cars, but is utterly bitter over how it stretches on seemingly forever, leaving him no room to pull over at all. He had to maintain focus on the winding paths. He tried not to think of the deft work of your hand on him. He tried not to think of how your mouth would soon replace it. But his pleasure-ridden body betrays him miserably—his hips lifting itself into a slow rut right against your hand.

“Endangering our lives just so you could fill your slut of a mouth,” Mingyu spelled out slowly, each word sharp. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, entirely unaffected by his tone and he could practically hear the smirk in yours. “You could say no.”

He looks at you. “I could.”

“So, say it.”

A sliver of a smile as he turns away again. “I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?” The flutter deep in your stomach intensified, the anticipation having you on the edge seat almost quite literally as you’re leaning closer, adding a little more weight on his crotch. “Why not?”

“Because I dreamt of this,” he divulges, an airy sigh slipping from his lips. “Dreamt of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock in the middle of traffic, of your frustration when I’m unable to help you force my entire length down your throat.”

“How filthy,” you jest, a shit-eating grin pulling your lips wider.

A pointed gaze. “You literally just offered to suck my dick in the first place.”

A shrug. “Fair.”

Mingyu’s right hand reached for yours. The largeness of his palm fully encompasses your own as he presses down on it, applying enough delightful friction on himself for a strangled moan to get caught in his throat.

“Just do it,” he exhales, his breathing ragged. “My dick is about to explode.”

“What a poet,” You snicker and give his dick a playful squeeze which only earns more of his choked noises. But thankfully, you’re merciful as you are excited and reckless. He hears the rustle against leather as you’re maneuvering yourself, folding your legs under you. His heart beats a little loudly against his chest, thrumming up to his ears and down to his dick, as lithe, dainty fingers make quick work on his belt and the button of his jeans.

“Keep your eyes on the road for me, baby,” you say as your hand dives in to finally, finally, bring his awaiting cock out. “We both don’t want to be dead so soon before I give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“Then hurry up,” Mingyu seethes through gritted teeth.

He’s nearly at full length, and though you’ve held him countless times, you’re still marveling at the sheer size of him, how he sits heavily on your palm, throbbing thickly. Your fingers just barely come into a circle when you start to stroke him with an unhurried and leisurely pace, feeling the full extent of him.

“This hard just from me groping you?” you coo, tone a honeyed venom, as you run a thumb over his slit. “Trying to act all cool with me when you’re just as desperate to fill my slut of a mouth.”

“Baby,” Mingyu said with heavy breaths that taper off into croaked groans. “Please don’t tease.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” you tut. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, but you have to be good and keep driving. Can you do that for me?”

Mingyu swallows hard, the lump on his throat bobbing, and gives an obedient nod of his head before adjusting himself with a straightened back which might’ve been the umpteenth time he’s done so since you’ve offered your sinful proposal.

“Good,” you hum, preening at his easy compliance, and dip your head down.

Mingyu bites down on his bottom lip hard when you take one small, tentative lick at his weeping slit. A ditzy giggle bubbles up your throat when he throbs almost immediately in response and your hand squeezes at the base of his cock in return. You continue with a few more teasing flicks, lapping up the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and only when you feel Mingyu’s thighs flex and strain to jerk up into your mouth do you ultimately indulge him.

“Oh fuck,” the poor man cusses out when you down him as much as you could, your mouth a luscious wet warmth as it envelopes around him. “Holy fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

You hum appreciatively around his unbelievable girth, sending vibrations coursing down the just as unbelievable length that only has Mingyu whimpering praises more. A hand makes up for the rest of him that your mouth couldn’t quite reach just yet; it works in perfect tandem with your slackened jaw as your head begins to bob up and down on him.

Mingyu does not dare steal a glance in total fear of losing all sense of himself at what is most definitely the most lecherous view of his fantasies coming to life. His head stays firmly pinned against the leather-clad headrest, twitching eyes hell-bent on the road. But he could still hear the obscenity of it, all the wet glugs and sucks as your cheeks hollow out for him, and it does all but aid his concentration, gradually winding a burning hot coil deeply set in the pit of his stomach. The wandering habit presented itself as his right hand began to move (thanking the high heavens for making him left-handed), and glided over your back and all the way down under the impossibly short skirt you wore.

“That’s it, angel,” Mingyu drawls out in encouragement, his hand grabbing at the supple flesh of your ass. “You’re taking me so well.”

Hearing his praise and feeling his straying hand only spurs you to dip your head lower, attempting to swallow down more of him. There’s a sense of satisfaction when he bumps the back of your throat and you find that you have been able to take more than half of him in your mouth. But it’s fleeting when the latter half of Mingyu’s dream comes to light sooner than anticipated—that frustration, a consuming greed, of wanting to take him whole. And like he alluded to, you knew it wasn’t possible if he wasn’t fucking your mouth open, which is entirely out of the question. You’re still trying for some form of compensation—a hand wringing at the base, tongue lapping hungrily at the sides of his cock with lewd slurps—and it all comes out good when jerking out moans from Mingyu, but it’s short in appeasing you. It’s desperation now that’s having you creep further along his length, and it’s so so messy with the obscene amount of saliva cascading down his shaft, coating him with a wet sheen. You resist the urge to gag every time he hits the back of your throat and try to veer your focus on breathing through flared nostrils, eyes fluttering shut in concentration.

It’s laughable how easily that focus is broken when prying fingers begin to pull your flimsy underwear.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Mingyu averred, flashing a sly smile your way, before he’s gliding a calloused digit over your folds, gathering at the wetness trickling out.

Your mewls are broken and garbled, a new surge of spit gushing down, dripping on his lap. Instinctively, your hips swivel back hungrily in search of more blissful friction, as you peer up at him through wet lashes, a stray tear flowing down your cheek.

Mingyu catches it when he casts a quick glance again. He notes the utter desperation contorting your expression, the glistening cheeks a sign of your eminent passion, and something deep inside him both inflames and melts at the same time. His eyes are assessing the road when it flickers back up, and there—the greatest silver lining known to man (just Mingyu) kissing the dusky sky—is the end of the highway. He doesn’t speed for it, no, instead he forgoes it, just the slightest bit as his foot eases off the pedal. He forgoes it for the sake of securing the vehicle, for the sake of slipping his a finger inside your wet channel as a reward for the glorious way you worship his cock.

The surprised, choked-out groan you exude goes straight to his dick, quite literally. And he’s echoing it, staggered but loud enough to drown out the music flowing from the speakers.

“I’ll pull over soon,” Mingyu imparts, gently hooking the digit and stroking your walls. “Just a little longer, baby, then I’ll fuck your throat. You’d like that too, won’t you?”

You pull off him with a satisfying pop, a string of spit threading between his cock and your glistening lips that’s quickly broken when both hands replace where your mouth’s been, stroking hard and fast. You glance up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, holding back your moans as your hips sway back into his finger.

“Be quick,” you whisper, eyelids flickering, and you lean back down to trace the veins along his cock with your tongue. “I want all of you in my mouth. I want you to bury your fingers in me. I want you to abuse me until I'm a mess of spit and tears.”

Fuck.

Mingyu slams on the acceleration. He’s still commandeering the vehicle securely with one hand, but the finger inside you goes still, letting you use it as you please with shallow rocks of your hips and clenches of your walls. He takes a right when the road opens up and pulls up in a relatively empty parking lot very swiftly with the practiced ease of the seasoned driver he was.

Up until then, you were suckling on his tip, coaxing thick, pearly rivulets out of him onto your tastebuds. If it had been possible to be drunk off of precum, you certainly appeared to be buzzed out of your mind with how much you were giggling and lapping at him for more. You were impossibly gone in the pleasure of giving your boyfriend pleasure that you weren't given enough time to prepare yourself for the absolute reckless and barbaric nature that would be forced upon you.

Safely parked, Mingyu ignored the garbled whines when he pulled his finger away from your clenching walls as he goes to quickly undo his seatbelt. Mingyu reached for two firm fistfuls of your hair, used it as a rein to properly align your mouth for him to shove his way inside promptly without so much of a warning. Gone was his usual gentle nature, he’s completely ruthless. The power of his thrusts is terrifyingly inhumane, his sac slapping up against your chin with ease now that he waives your own comfort. He’s focused on gaining his pleasure and his alone.

“Better?” Mingyu laughs darkly. “Were you struggling all this time? Is your mouth filled up enough now? C’mon, pretty baby. Let me hear those gags.”

You do let him hear it, all the gurgles and violent retches made around him. You fucking know this’ll leave you voiceless the next day—hell, maybe for the next few days if you continue moaning against the repeated force—and yet you’re still indulging him, conceding your entire being to him almost too easily, almost too enthusiastically.

Like the sick person you were, the brutality has you practically soaking wet through the fabric of your underwear. If you weren’t in such a rough position, you might’ve reached back to relieve yourself of the incessant throbbing of your core. And Mingyu held the mantle now, your authority beaten right out of you, so you weren’t so sure if he would appreciate you doing anything else other than being his cocksleeve.

So instead, with tears a steady stream down your face and lips red and swollen, you let him abuse you, narrowing your focus on the sliding weight of his dick on your tongue, your head laxed for him to fully control with no restraints or complaints. A perfect little toy.

Your pleasurable suffering wouldn’t last for long. Mingyu was close to breaking himself. You feel his thighs tense from where you gripped him for balance, his panted moans rising in volume against your ears.

“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, you got that?” Mingyu drawled. “Every single bit. You wanted your mouth filled, yeah? You take it all, darling.”

Your responding, muddled moans are a warm wet ring around him. If you could see him, you’d find how pleasure cruelly contorts his features. It takes a couple more messy, stuttered strokes then the burning coil inside him that wound so tightly snapped so violently. A surge of warmth overwhelms Mingyu, his muscles tensing and seizing, and a long, broken noise is ripped right out of his chest, as he comes in thick ropes of white right into your mouth.

The salty, warm cum of him glides down your throat like melted cream. You do try to guzzle it all down as told, but he always comes in such heavy loads. Coughs threaten to tear your throat but you’re suppressing them with the greatest effort until hot tears streak down your cheeks, your chest heaving wildly.

“So good,” Mingyu exhales, his grip on you loosened as he takes to petting your hair with such affection as he rides out the remainders of his high. “You’re so good for me, angel.”

Satisfied after gulping down the last spurt of him, you finally let up with a small whimper, your frame quivering as you sat yourself back on your folded legs, your eyes eager when it found him. Mingyu still looked unbelievably good sweaty and flushed. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might have looked like with your hair strewn about and swollen lips.

Mingyu didn’t seem to care. He was smiling at you with great fondness as if he had not just abused your mouth like a mere plaything. He reached to wipe some excess cum on your chin with a thumb before immediately shoving past your swollen lips. Still quite pliant, you lick it up earnestly, giving another wanton moan around him.

“Fuck,” Mingyu starts, huffing out a breathy laugh. “You’re my wet dream come true.”

“You’re welcome,” you try to lilt, but it comes out raspy and painful.

Mingyu notices the wince in your expression and frowns, a hand immediately moving to cradle the side of your throat tenderly. “Does it hurt?”

“Well, you were not exactly gentle, Gyu,” you pointed out humorously, but caught sight of the slight concern lining his face and you quickly followed up with, “But I loved it a lot. It was hot. You were hot.”

Mingyu still looked concerned but at least the corners of his lips twitched at your addition. “I could tell you loved it. You took me really well, angel.”

“And I’d do it again and again,” you said, grinning. “Even though I’m pretty sure my windpipe is bruised.”

His hand lifts to hold the side of your face, a thumb smoothing over your cheek, as he looks over you for a moment. There’s a strange little glint in his eyes, and in your recovering state, you couldn’t quite place what it was, but it has your stomach churning again.

“I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” Mingyu murmurs, head cocked to the side as he smiles.

“Could you?” you ask in turn, voice soft. “Please?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he croons, raising his hand up to brush your hair back, his fingers threading through your hair. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Mingyu reaches over you, promptly maneuvering your seat backwards. He eases you until you’re laying flat on your back, and his hands move to grip at your thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. The breeze that hits your cunt has you trembling and you feel absolutely exposed when Mingyu only watches your tiny frame unfold before him, eyes drinking in the sight with an insatiable hunger. He brushes a knuckle over your soaked folds, tentative, before pressing it roughly against your throbbing clit. You’re whining, arching your back off the seat as a rush of searing pleasure courses up your veins.

You’re whining even louder when Mingyu draws back. You try to reach for his arm but it’s useless when it’s thickly corded with so much power.

“Looks like I didn’t ruin your throat enough if you’re this fucking whiny,” Mingyu remarked sharply with a laugh. He does reach a hand back but your excitement quickly fizzles out just as it spikes when a slap lands quick and sharp on your cunt and you’re jerking in your seat. “Sit still and wait quietly.”

You press your quivering lips into a thin line and nod your head obediently.

With a pleased smile, he pulls back once again. He fixes himself, shoving his dick back into his underwear, followed by sweeping his long hair back and away from his face. He takes his sweet time and doesn’t spare you a single glance as if you weren’t there at all, all the while you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, the anticipation simmering sickly in your stomach. Then, he’s suddenly reaching for the gear shift, setting the car in reverse, and pulling out of the parking lot.

“W-Where are we going?” you asked urgently.

“Home,” Mingyu replied casually, turning the wheel adeptly with one hand. “Where else?”

You looked down at yourself, at the compromising position he forced you in and forced you to hold. “But - ?”

As if to answer your question, his right hand roves over to you and between your legs. He starts with a press on your clit, then caresses the roughened pad of his finger down to where you leak, before bringing it right back up to start again, and again, and again.

“I promise I’ll make you feel good, baby” Mingyu echoes your words, a vicious smile pulling his lips. “But you have to be good and hold yourself up like that. Can you do that for me?”

“Are you getting back at me?” You meant for your words to come out as an aggravated hiss, but it came out pathetically as a soft whimper.

“Yes,” he responded, not wasting a beat, and peers at you, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “And because this is another wet dream of mine.”

“How lucky,” you start, taking in a shaky breath when Mingyu rubs short, tight circles on your sensitive nub. “How lucky you get to fulfill two of your dreams today.”

“It’s all because of you,” Mingyu grins and, without warning, slides two thick fingers inside you. “Now, answer the question.”

“Yes,” you gasp out immediately, the sudden breach stinging so sharply, but your walls gave a sickly delighted spasm around him anyway. Your arms come up and hook themselves around your knees, bringing it up to your heaving chest. “Yes, I can.”

“Good,” he hums, curling the digits and pressing it roughly against the sweet nerves inside you. “Tough it out because this time, I will not be pulling over.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #svt fanfic #kim mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic

2K notes · View notes

catscidr · 8 months

Note

hi.. hello... may I request a dottore fic w/chronically ill reader? chronically ill as in, can't get enough sleep due to pain, doesn't clean themselves/shower, or doesn't eat a lot due to the pain and loss of appetite.

this part is a bit self indulgent but maybe reader can't walk properly due to it and needs assistance by dottore (or his segments) to hold her hand and let her cling onto them as they walk?

absolutely understandable if not! hope you have a good day :) 🕊

yes!! absolutely!! (included this other ask too bc i felt they were similar enough) im sorry i disappeared for a bit, life happened and this and that and i didn't have time to write and when i did i just.... couldn't write LOLヽ(；▽；) i don't have a chronic illness so i did my best with what i had (google and my own experiences with body pains n stuff(?) ) so pls lmk if there's like. any wording i should change and whatnot. big smoochies to u nonnie i hope this makes you feel at least a little better ♡♡ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a whole lotta fluff, established relationship, dottore is probably a little ooc bc he's very soft, him and The Clones are doting on reader HARD. reader is shorter than the men includes: fem reader, dottore and his segments (Omega is the oldest, Delta is webttore, Iota is the youngest), Columbina is mentioned, fatui npcs are also mentioned wc: 2,3k

The doctor was infamous for being cruel, aloof and barbaric. From his experiments to his way of treating his coworkers, practically everyone that worked in the Fatui wanted nothing to do with him, since even if they happened to not get on his bad side, even being associated with him meant other members of the organization would look at them funny. The only people the Harbinger spoke to daily, apart from you, were his many segments.

The same couldn’t be said for you though. When you could, you’d spend time with Viktor or Ekaterina whenever they were in Snezhnaya, hang out with Damselette when she was free or simply just make small talk with anyone willing to stop by for a chat. Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to enjoy other people’s presence since your body’s been feeling quite sluggish as of late, exhaustion seeping into your limbs much quicker than it should. Your predicament made it so that you were confined to the four walls of your room most days, human interaction being limited to Dottore and his clones.

Not that you particularly minded, since they were an entertaining bunch. Dottore took care of you most of the time, but since his job was quite demanding, he couldn’t be there for you all the time. Which is where his segments came in.

“The soup isn’t that hot, and I already blew on it! Just eat already,” Delta grumbles loudly, his patience wearing thin as it made way for aggressive worry to take place. You stick your tongue out at him, a tired and petty act of rebellion despite your situation.

“I dare you to take a sip. For sure it’ll be able to melt your mechanic tongue right off,” you huff in annoyance, both from the minimal hours of sleep you’d been getting and your own patience coming to an end. The man makes a tsk sound, torn between wanting to prove you wrong by humoring your suggestion or wanting to just grab an ice cube and tossing it in the bowl in malicious compliance. He doesn’t have time to decide though, because two people come into your room right as he opened his mouth to reply.

“Prime told me to check in on you,” Omega says as he breaches the doorframe. “You’re taking too long.” he adds, crossing his arms. The older segment stares down at his maskless coworker, lips curling down in a frown. Delta scowls, readjusting himself on your bed- he was sitting to your right, his legs thrown over the side of the bed. He glances over his shoulder at the interruption, scowl now much more genuine as he glares daggers at the older segment.

“I would have been back a long time ago if someone,” he doesn’t hide the way his eyes glance over at your sulking form, “had cooperated with me.” Still holding up the spoon he had tried to feed you previously, he lowers it into the bowl while gesturing for Omega to come closer. The latter walks over to the bed calmly while Iota saunters over to your left side, chatting up a storm about how he’s missed you and asking when you’ll be joining them back in the lab again.

“Maybe if you knew how to speak to women,” the oldest taunts, lips curling into a small grin, the only feature visible on his masked face. You giggle as Delta bites back an insult, purposely ignoring his superior to instead try to make you get something in your system one more time.

“Where’s Dottore?” you ask the Omega segment, turning your face away from Delta. The latter glares at you, handing over the bowl of soup to the other man. Iota suggests feeding you but is quickly dismissed by the other two, much to his dismay.

“Busy. Although he said he would come by to test something, if I recall correctly... didn’t mention what it was, though,” the masked segment says, blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it off. You nod, eating the spoonful when Omega presents it to you, earning a look of disbelief from Delta. “How are you feeling today?” the oldest asks, tuning out Delta’s many choice words aimed at him. You do the same, focused on eating and taking your time swallowing the food so as to not upset your already sensitive stomach.

“Could be better,” you respond with a sigh. “I feel pain... everywhere. And I’m tired but I can’t sleep,” you add between spoonfuls. Omega nods, letting you rant as he silently listens to you while subtly observing the way your chest heaves up and down, as if your lungs were working overtime to accommodate to an elevated heart rate.

He hums, dipping the spoon in the bowl to feed you again. You shake your head at him and put a hand up in front of your mouth, your brows creasing your forehead. The clone doesn’t push further and instead hands Iota the unfinished bowl of food, quietly asking for him to put it away. The young boy nods eagerly, happy to be of use as he scurries away. Delta follows after him to make sure he doesn’t break anything, but glances behind his shoulder to take one last look at you, worry obvious on his usually irked face.

“How long has it been since Prime has last given your previous dose of aspirin?” he asks, leaning closer to you to push your hair out of your face. Expression scrunched up in discomfort from the sudden food intake, you make a noise of discontentment, a vague answer to his question. He frowns but doesn’t voice his displeasure aloud, instead comforting you through your nausea. Noticing pearls of sweat beading up on your hairline, Omega pulls your bed sheets away slightly, making you more comfortable.

“Can you try swallowing for me?” he asks gently, tilting his head forward and to the side to look at your throat. It takes you a hot second but after some struggle you do as he instructed and swallow, your throat bobbing up as you do, and the segment hums in satisfaction. “Good,” he murmurs quietly, placing one hand on your shoulder to help you straighten your back.

“Let me help you up. Hold onto my hand for me?” Omega asks, helping you slip out of bed, putting a strong arm under yours to help you stand up. You wordlessly interlock your fingers into his own and wobble slightly, knees weak and devoid of strength, but he holds you up, bending his own knees slightly to accommodate your height. The wave of nausea comes and goes, making your legs unsteady as the clone helps you walk towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

Delta comes back without Iota in tow and immediately notices your discomfort. His legs work faster than his mind and he’s to your left in the blink of an eye, supporting your weight as well to help you and Omega out. The three of you reach the sink counter and as the oldest helps you sit up on it, Delta squints at his fellow clone.

“Can one of you get my bucket,” you manage to croak out between deep breaths, head slumped forward to rest against Omega’s shoulder. While he rubs soothing circles on your back Delta quickly grabs the bucket you kept in your room, footsteps as silent as he could as to not disturb you. You murmur a quiet thank you to him, sitting up to the best of your ability as you shoot him a grateful smile.

“Are you feeling well enough to bathe or are you still lightheaded?” Omega asks, one of his gloved hands coming up to your forehead. He feels some heat seep through the leather fabric but waits for your answer nonetheless, crimson eyes covered by his mask staring into you. You nod, leaning into the coolness of his hand.

“Mmhyeah, jus’ help me out a bit,” you mumble sleepily, exhaustion taking over your nausea. Delta doesn't need to be told twice as he turns on the tap to fill up the bath, keeping a hand beneath it to make the sound of water splashing in the tub quieter to avoid bothering you.

✧✧✧

With a towel resting over your head and newfound energy flowing through your limbs, you saunter into your partner’s main lab to find him. Omega had left shortly after you finished bathing, begrudgingly telling you that he had to go back to work- but Delta stayed with you long enough to keep you company while you let your eyes rest. He gave you some painkillers- nothing like what Dottore gave you to keep the pain at bay, but it worked as a temporary solution- and you felt energized enough to leave your bedroom to get ahold of Dottore.

Delta walked behind you, not wanting to go back to the laboratory just yet but the last thing he wanted was to leave you alone, his mind working up a multitude of scenarios in which you’d get hurt. Although he was all bark and no bite, he still cared about you immensely- more than he’d ever admit. He watches your hair drip water onto the pristine white tiles as you walk and steps on the water with his boots, smudging the liquid to wipe it away.

“Dottore!” you exclaim happily, eyes lighting up when you finally catch sight of the familiar mop of blue hair paired with his matching tired eyes and scarred skin adorning his face. The Harbinger looks up from his work, eyes displaying a mix of surprise and something akin to irritation- a result from catching him off guard.

“Darling,” he says softly, quietly enough that you barely catch the loving nickname slipping past his chapped lips. “Did you eat?” he asks, brushing the dirt off his hands on his slacks. You engulf his torso in a warm hug, immediately comforted by the familiar faint scent of his cologne and whatever cleaning supply he used in his lab. He returns the hug gently and Delta looks away immediately, flustered at the sight of his boss being publicly affectionate.

You respond with a muffled mhm, refusing to pull away. “Didn’t eat much but it was something. Omega ‘n Delta helped me bathe. Took something for the pain. Now I’m here,” you summarize, face still smushed against him. He hums in approval, but concern still creases his brows as he uses one of his hands to rub up your back and the other to dry off your hair completely using the towel on your head. Delta murmurs an excuse before leaving the premises, not able to withstand the pda.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says sternly but softly. “I’m working on something that’ll help you in the long run, it’ll do you good to allow your body to recuperate as much as it can. Have you been sleeping alright?”

You slump against him. Of course he’d notice how tired you were even if he couldn’t see your face.

“...No,” you mumble. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his head moving as he looks around his workspace, seemingly looking for something. He lets out a quiet aha when he does and he brings his arms down to your shoulders to push you away.

“I have something you can take to help you sleep. You shouldn’t feel nauseous nor dizzy when you take it as well,” Dottore says, immediately talking about the possible complications before you can even open your mouth to refuse his offer. “I tested it out myself,” he adds, lips curling into a small smile when he sees your face change from a pout to bewilderment.

“You? The great Dottore, ex-scholar of the Akademiya, willingly taking medication to make him sleep? You never get rest, and you expect me to believe you when you talk about sleeping medication?” you say with an amused scoff. Dottore raises a brow at your teasing but doesn’t comment on it, instead he chooses to brush his pointer finger’s knuckle beneath your eyes.

“You should believe me because I never get rest, my love,” he says fondly. “And because your dark circles are so prominent, I could probably see them from the other side of the laboratory.” he adds. You huff but lean into his touch, eyes drooping from the burst of energy catching up on your body. You hear him chuckle under his breath as he shifts his body to grab the medication in question and a syringe with a sterilized needle, preparing the equipment to administer it to you.

“If you get an adequate amount of rest, I’ll take two days off work to take care of you properly. How does that sound?” he asks lightly, flicking the syringe to let out any air bubbles out. You look away with furrowed brows and roll your eyes, but still give him your arm.

“Now you’re just trying to bait me,” you say, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. He shrugs, not arguing with your accusation because you were technically right. When he’s done with the syringe you feel his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his body making you sigh pleasantly.

You can’t tell what it is that makes your body grow so incredibly tired so suddenly; if it was the medication, the strain on your body or if it was because you just felt that comfortable in Dottore’s arms, but you didn’t really care. As you felt Dottore move you to one of his couches, you reach out to grab onto his sleeve to keep him nearby.

He complies, crouching to be at your level as you crack your eyes open to look at him. You murmur a quiet love you and shut your eyes contentedly, smiling softly once you feel his lips make contact with your forehead as you hear him clearly say I love you too back.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x fem!reader #dottore x afab reader #il dottore x you #il dottore x reader #uuauaoaoaoghghhh i love soft dottore #IM WRITING THE ASKS IN MY INBOX I SWEAR

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springdaybreaks · 2 years

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lavender haze | l. jn.

➼summary: your subscribers anonymously agree that they could see the progress of you and jeno's relationship in your videos. / or in which jeno appears in your youtube videos.

➼tags: lee jeno x youtuber!reader; (kind of) domestic!jeno; fluff

➼warnings: grammar and tenses inconsistencies and intentional lowercase. unedited. no content warnings.

➼word count: 3,415

➼note: can't believe what started as a self indulgence ended up buried in my drafts for months lol. this fic is completely random and i had no idea why i even started writing this. but seeing this after finally coming back to my tumblr drafts just made me want to publish it. also i still suck at giving titles lmaoooo but i feel like the lyrics of lavender haze kinda fits them

iv. building new ikea furnitures for my new apartment (and giving up failing)

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. so today i am going to build a cabinet which i am going to put under my tv! as you guys know if you watched my previous video, i recently moved to a new place and i am slowly but surely starting to make this place home."

you clapped your hands, "let's start, shall we?"

you opened the box and started getting all of the pieces out, lining it up on the floor near you. you were doing a pretty good job on your own until you started facing hurdles after hurdles. with a little bit more time, patience and effort, you managed to screw in the right screws and placing the pieces the correct way. but as you were near finishing the furniture, your concentration and patience were wearing thin. not to mention you haven't eaten yet.

"oh my god, is this stuck?" you grunted as you try to push in a piece to its place.

the piece didn't budge even a smidge. you sighed as you felt the strength leaving your arms. you lay down and stare at the ceiling hopelessly before turning your head to the camera.

"and here i thought assembling an ikea furniture was easy."

the door creaked open and you lift your head off the floor. you must've saw a familiar face as your face because you forced yourself to sit cross-legged again.

"you doing okay?" someone said behind the camera.

"this one got stuck and i don't have the strength to push it to its place or pull it out again," you pointed to the troublesome piece.

"you want some help?"

"will you help me? oh that would be amazing!"

there was some shuffling and the next second, there was your helper with his back to the camera.

"say hi to my subscribers!" your helper waved his hand but refused to turn around.

you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug, "this is my friend and my savior who kindly agreed to help me move my stuff here! he's a little shy, so we're gonna blur out his face for privacy."

"what are you having troubles with?" he asked.

you pointed to the troublesome piece and started explaining how you tried your best but couldn't move the said piece. you even showed him the instructions and told him how you followed the instructions exactly, but the piece still got stuck.

"okay, calm down. let's start with this one," he said and shoved the piece down to its place in a blink of an eye.

your jaw dropped as you stared at your helper, then your camera, "i should've asked for his help from the very start."

your helper chuckled and made himself comfortable on the floor, still keeping his back to the camera as he reached for the instructions.

"you just need a little more strength, y/n."

the video continued with a timelapse of you and your helper finishing the furniture; with you helping with the instructions and carrying the pieces and your helper trying his best in assembling it. the timelapse ended as the two of you finished. your helper got up to his feet and with your help, the two of you pushed the cabinet to stand properly.

"hey, i think we did a pretty good job!" you said to the camera.

xii. trying archery (ft. archery gold medalist!)

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. so today i am here," you gestured towards the background, "at an archery range. and as you seen on the title, i am gonna be trying archery today! and i happen to have a friend that does or at least know how to do archery."

you gestured towards someone behind the camera to come closer. a moment later, a guy walked into the frame and stand beside you.

"introduce yourself!"

the guy bowed and simply introduced himself, "hi, everyone. i'm jeno."

"if you guys remembered the video where i tried building a tv cabinet, this is the friend that helped me build the cabinet!"

jeno kept quiet beside you, nodding along to your words as you start to explain your itinerary for the day. he only chimed in when he heard you saying how he was a archery gold medalist.

"no, wait a minute," he cut your monologue, "i'm not a gold medalist."

"yes, you are!" you protested.

"i'm not! it was only sports week at school, silly."

"mhm, and what about the neighborhood sports competition?" you crossed your arms.

"that doesn't count! my opponents were all old uncles!"

you gasped, as if what he said was scandalous. jeno rolled his eyes at your antics. "old uncles?"

"alright that's enough. now put your gear on," he turned you around and started pushing you to the counter where the staff had your gear ready.

you sped up the parts of the two of you getting ready. and finally the video started going on a normal pace when you and jeno were standing right behind the line.

"fear not, people, for i am katniss everdeen!" you said in a mighty voice, your chest puffed up.

"okay, katniss everdeen. now start practicing before you poke someone's eye off." jeno guided you to take up your posture, "now shoot by yourself first."

your first shot was awful as predicted. but so was your second and third. it was then jeno started correcting your posture again and the angle of your arm.

"now put your hand right on the corner of your mouth here as you pull the bow," he said as he took a place right behind you. "take a breath, hold it, and exhale as you release your bow."

you did as you were told and the camera moved to the target to capture your score. your arrow landed on the border of the second and third circle from the middle.

you jumped and shouted excitedly, "a nine! i got a nine!"

jeno smiled at your antics, his eyes curving to the shape of little crescent moons. he stood his ground even when you took his hand into yours and started jumping. but the small smie never left his face.

"let's do it again!" you said, "and we're not gonna go home until i get at least two bullseye!"

xix. meet my new friend!

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. we're not starting the video like the usual, as you guys noticed, and that's because i have a surprise for you guys! anyway, before we start the video..."

you started doing your usual thing, talking about one thing and anything that happened since your last video. but in the middle of your talk, the sound of a door opening was heard. your eyes focused on something behind the camera, where the door was supposedly. your eyes twinkled and your lips were pulled into a smile.

"and as you can see from the title, i want to introduce you guys to my new friend." you scoot aside, "okay, now come here, jeno."

you looked at the camera and held out a hand, "jeno's not the one i'm introducing you guys to. i think you guys know him already."

jeno came into the frame, holding a white puppy against his chest. he greeted your subscribers with a small hello and a smile, and then he raised the puppy's leg and waved it, "hi guys!"

you let them do their greetings, looking at them with such warmth in your eyes. it was obvious how much you adore the puppy, and maybe even jeno. (your subscribers definitely went out of their minds when they saw the way you look at jeno and the puppy; some of them were so sure you were looking at jeno and some others believed you were looking at the new puppy).

you caress the puppy's head, seeing as it was just quietly snuggling against jeno. you cooed when the puppy yawned. jeno smiled warmly at you as you obsessed over your new pup.

"so, mind telling them how we got this little guy?" you asked jeno as you kept giving the puppy rubs on its head.

"me? i thought you want to tell the story," jeno scrunched his eyebrows. you gave him a look that made him sigh.

"so, it was thursday- friday night? it was raining outside when i got a call from y/n. to be honest, i couldn't really hear much because of the rain. she had to practically shout so i can hear her," jeno started rubbing the little pup with his thumb. "the only thing i could hear was that she couldn't let him get rained on before she hung up on me."

"it was raining and i had to move fast, okay?" you protested.

"mhm, sure. anyway, she came home sopping wet with this little guy clutched to her chest." jeno glanced at the pup before looking at you, "and she started crying about not being able to leave him alone in the rain."

"and that's how we got this little guy!" you cut him.

"mhm, said miss emotional," he teased.

"hey, i was really sad, okay? this little guy didn't deserve to be left alone in the rain!" you protested.

jeno stared blankly at the camera, "and now i have two babies to take care of."

"hey!"

(your subscribers didn't miss how jeno said you 'came home', leading them to assume that the two of you were really living together.)

xxviii. back home for christmas

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. so today we are," the camera captures you on the passenger seat of a car, "on our way back home for christmas! oh, say hi to mr. driver!"

you moved the camera to capture the guy beside you; jeno, the driver.

"hi guys. merry christmas!" he said, taking his eyes off the road to focus on the camera for a second.

"well, technically, it's a couple days before christmas. but this video would probably be out after christmas anyways, so merry christmas!" you rambled.

"anyway, i'm gonna show you guys what i got everyone for christmas. and i'll probably gonna show you what i got for christmas too! so, stay tuned!"

"woof!"

the camera panned to where your white samoyed was currently sticking his head out. "hey, gureumi!"

the white dog looked at the camera in your hands and tilted his head in confusion. he shifted his attention to your best friend instead, nudging his nose to jeno's elbow that was resting on the console, asking for rubs.

"do you see this, guys? gureumi has betrayed me!" you complained dramatically.

you lay your head on top of gureumi's and snuggle the best you can, muttering, "gureumi, do you not love me anymore? i'm so sad."

the cheeky thing he was, gureumi ignored you and snuggled his face to jeno's arm instead. you whined against his white fur, "noooo!!!"

jeno's voice came from outside the frame, "alright, alright," he rubbed gureumi's face as best as he could before addressing you, "y/n, you know he loves you more than me so please seat properly."

you boo-ed but complied nonetheless, "buzzkill," and turned to the camera again, "well, we still have some ways to go so.... see you guys in a bit!"

(your subscribers kept commenting how you and jeno must be in a serious relationship because you're taking him home for christmas; meaning you're also taking him to meet your family and spend your time together. some commented how they're seeing jeno a lot more in your videos now.)

xlii. cooking my mom's recipes for thanksgiving

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. so today we are going to try and cook my favorites of my mom's thanksgiving recipes!"

the camera captured you on your kitchen. you were leaning against the counter, focused solely on the camera in front of you.

"the reason i am cooking this year is because my family's gonna be the one coming here for thanksgiving!" you clapped your hands once, "and jeno's too! so, we... have a lot of things to do hence why i am definitely gonna rope jeno into this too."

the video cuts to a view of white tile floors the next second, a pair of black shoes sits at the edge of the frame. the camera tilted, almost falling, before a hand caught it in time.

"whew, that was close!" the camera caught jeno's eyesmile as he shot his face. "i'm gonna get into so much trouble if it fell."

jeno's face couldn't be seen clearly on camera. he wore a black hat and half his face was covered by a black mask. "oh wow, i look like i'm about to do something illegal."

he flashed the camera a cute eyesmile, "which i will- am never going to do," and flipped the camera to face what he was seeing- an empty shopping cart.

"y/n will be doing most of the cooking, so i figured the least i could do is help with the groceries. let's see what we need here."

jeno managed to go through the list fairly quick. the camera shot his face again, "okay, since we are done with the list. i think i deserve to get something for me, right? some snacks won't hurt anybody."

saying the shopping cart was full was an understatement. the list you gave him was only for a few recipes as your mother and his, respectively, insisted on bringing at least one dish for the dinner. but the snacks he was piling on the cart really had nothing to do with the dinner, and it was starting to cover everything else.

oh, he was in for a scolding when he got home.

(your subscribers couldn't help but to notice how jeno also tossed in a lot of your favorite snacks, and some even caught on his quiet mumbles about how 'this is y/n's favorite!')

lix. so... we got married?

"hello everyone, welcome back to the channel! how are you guys? i hope all of you are doing well. so..." you paused and chuckled nervously, "i got married?"

you put a clapping sound effect on the video, hoping it would soothe the somewhat awkward atmosphere. you smooth out invisible crickles in your shirt, clearly nervous for what you're about to reveal on the video.

"this video is probably a bit different than my usual ones because i think you guys are probably confused by the title. this may come as a shock to all, or at least some, of you..." you smiled, "but it's true, I am married."

"okay, i think i have to apologize for the sudden news. i know you guys probably have a lot of questions about it and since i am finally settled down from all the wedding and honeymoon festives, i can finally explain it.

"a lot of you guys have been questioning if i was dating someone since a few years back. i've also seen your questions in the comments about dating a certain someone. i realised i never even cleared it up, but yes, i was dating jeno long before he started to show up on my videos. neither jeno or me ever confirmed it whenever any of you asked because, well... with so much of my life -and in extension, his also- known to the public, i like to keep our relationship private. although i know some of you were really sure we were dating," you laughed.

"so a few months ago he proposed. out of the blue, really. i really didn't expect him to propose that day. and i know," you emphasized with your hand, "that a lot of you are probably dying to know how did he propose to me."

a smile started to bloom on your face as you remember his proposal. "it wasn't a grand romantic thing, actually. it really just was another day. we just finished our date and i just got in to the car. i remember that i was particularly stressed out on the last couple of weeks before that day and jeno took me out on a date because he could see how much the stress was affecting me."

"we were just talking in the car after our date. i don't even remember what we talked about," you laughed, "i just remember talking a lot and he was just staring at me. when i asked him a question, he just blurted out THE question."

"i really thought he was out of my mind! i told him 'you are joking, right?' but he looked really serious. and then i remember panicking because i thought i said the wrong thing. but then he just repeated the question again. i think i even asked him why but i don't think he's comfortable with me sharing all of the details he said during his proposal."

your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling, but the smile was still there. the door behind you opened a little bit and someone peeked in, although the gap between the door and the walls were too small for your viewers to identify the person.

"though, one thing i could guarantee: what he said was really sweet and, dare i say, romantic. i think i cried a little bit-"

"no, you were full on sobbing by then." jeno's head popped in from behind the door.

"i was not!" you gasped as you swivled to his direction.

jeno grinned and came inside the room, heading straight to you with his arms out. he cradled your face and started making baby noises, "uuu, is y/n gonna cry again just from remembering what i said?"

you punched his stomach in return, laughing lightheartedly, "shut up, doofus. i was not sobbing!"

"mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night, baby."

"hey!"

jeno flashed out his eyesmile and pecked your lips. he leaned his head against yours despite the awkward angle, with him just slightly crouching down and you sitting on your usual filming chair. he stared at the camera and mouthed, 'she definitely cried.'

you elbowed his sides and tried to shove him off you. you whined when he stayed adamant, pasted to your side.

"go away!"

jeno shook his head, messing your hair, "nooooo, you're stuck with me!"

"go away! unless," you paused to look at him, "you want to tell the whole story yourself?"

"no thanks!" jeno laughed. he gave you one last kiss on your temple before exiting the room.

you rolled your eyes at his antics, but the smile never left your face. you put your attention on your camera again and continued where you left off, letting know your viewers how your family reacted when they knew about the proposal and how jeno actually had bought a ring for you about a year prior. how he brought the ring with him every where because he didn't want you to find out yet. how you went to south korea for your two and a half week long honeymoon, and visiting jeno's family there while you're at it.

"so... yeah. i got married and i am really happy. that's all i have to say for this particular video. i'm not sure if i'm gonna upload my wedding video or not because to be completely honest, the party was fun. but super chaotic, in a good way! i may scrounge up some footage from our honeymoon and upload them one day though. one day! i'm not promising anything." you laughed, "i actually like having some things just for ourselves. but i'll ask jeno how he feels about it."

"well, that's all i have for this video. thank you so much for watching and i'll see you guys elsewhere! bye!"

(your comment section blew up with a lot of 'i kNEW it! I KNEW THEY WERE DATING!!!' and congratulatory comments. but on the brief moment jeno appeared on the video, your subscribers could see how much you love each other, but more importantly how much he loves you. they obsess over how they could practically see honey dripping from his eyes when he looked at you, how he calls you baby, how he still teases you good-naturedly like in your earlier videos, and how he seems to like clinging to your side. in a cute way.)

#lee jeno imagines #lee jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct imagines #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader imagines #nct fluff #lee jeno fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios

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karlachismylife · 9 days

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Comrades what the fuck we're over 100 subscribers-

I have unleashed the power (of furry) I am afraid of

But on a serious note, oh my god, THANK YOU??? I didn't think my silly little self-indulgent hyena cuddle fantasy will gather so much people, but oh well we're here, we're rolling... happy whoop to every hyena in vicinity??

I don't really know what to do, cuz just a few days ago I started my 30 subs celebration, and I got literally one request, and now I'm just... what do we do next lol?

Anyway I'll have to take time to figure some celebration out, so in the meantime y'all are VERY WELCOME to send requests for the Thirty Frames a Second celebration and/or the hyena 141 au. Send in literally anything, I'll find a way to make it work! Honestly I'm just glad that there's still a place for me and my silly little fics among some writer chads here with their darkfics and deep psycological character analysis and everything...

I know I'm probably incapable of writing deep stuff, so I'm just incredibly grateful to have people to share my lightweight fluff with.

Also I'll be like over the moon happy if you check out some other stuff in my masterlist, especially Karlach x Soap related since this all started with them and I'll always come back to them.

^ that's me looking as my notifications keep blowing up as if my scottish meow meow chucked a ton of explosives there (in a way he did, lol)

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shima-draws · 8 months

Note

Fix-it fics you say. Tell me MORE

Agh. AHGHHH. I had a really fucking stupid self-indulgent AU idea where Sanji eats a devil fruit that gives him healing powers. Generally it's a great thing to have but there's two (2) problems with it.

He can only use his healing powers on others, not himself, and depending on the injury it takes a massive amount of stamina to heal (to the point of being life-endangering), and

It is a highly. HIGHLY coveted devil fruit. Sanji has to be very, very careful about when and where he uses it, bc people have and will come after him for it.

Cut to Sabaody, where Kuma decides to send Sanji to Marineford instead of Momoiro, so Sanji spends the next few days trying to hide out (his garbage ass wanted poster actually helping him with this for once lmao). It isn't long before he hears about Ace's planned execution, and Sanji thinks about infiltrating to break him out but realizes it would be too dangerous. Knowing his captain though he's 100% certain Luffy will show up to rescue Ace, so he decides to lay low until the war starts.

Fast forward to when Ace gets fatally wounded and Sanji jumps in to save his ass. He manages to heal the wound enough that a regular doctor could take over, but using that much power and stamina kicks his ass so hard that he's almost crying blood and Luffy has to carry him off the battlefield. Sanji, being an idiot and stupidly self-sacrificing, waits for Luffy to focus on Ace before he slips away and decides to haul ass back to Whitebeard in an attempt to heal him too. Luffy flips his SHIT when he realizes Sanji is gone and has a panic attack after nearly losing his brother and now not knowing where the fuck his stupid cook went.

Sanji and Whitebeard probably argue back and forth for a few minutes before Whitebeard finally relents and lets Sanji take care of the worst of his injuries. Whitebeard watches him and he's like. You're gushing blood out of your nose rn should that be happening. You don't look well. And promptly smacks him on the head when Sanji starts mumbling some self-sacrificing bullshit fjadnsadna

Whitebeard's like well. I WAS planning to die here fighting since I was in really bad shape. But I guess since this dumbass decided to heal me and I owe Strawhat for saving my son. He picks up Sanji (who has long since passed tf out) and is like okay I'm out! Peace!! And books it back to everyone else lol

Cue Luffy BAWLING when Whitebeard shows up with his stupid idiot boyfriend (who uhhh doesn't look too good) and they all manage to escape bc this is a fix-it and I do what I want. They stumble onto Law's submarine who now has to deal with three (3) critically injured patients (Luffy, Sanji, Ace) and the in-recovery arc that happens after is very stressful but also very, very soft.

Basically my brain said "Marineford but it's a fix-it with Sanlu" so here we are LMAO

#One Piece #Sanlu #Lusan #Monkey D Luffy #Sanji #Black Leg Sanji #Ace #Portagas D Ace #Whitebeard #Shima answers questions #Marineford #This one's 1000000% self-indulgent. Sorry. (Except I'm actually not <3)

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lululawrence · 2 months

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Sus' 40 to 40 Countdown: 15 Days

I don't know why, but it feels like a big deal to have gotten this far in this silly countdown idea I had with my fics. Thank you to the anon who gave me the ideas for the themed recs and those of you who were supportive of me being out here and stupidly self indulgent leading up to my big 40 birthday lol I hope you aren't regretting it now hahaha! Today's rec is actually dedicated to that lovely anon because the theme is...

Fics That Inspired My Favorite Interactions with Readers

That's Not My Name - Harry/Louis (meet cute, uni, coffee shop)

The one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time…for over a month.

(I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn - Harry/Louis (advent fic, Holiday Inn AU, famous/non-famous, hurt/comfort, Christmas and other holidays)

When everything Louis had planned for his life falls through, and on his birthday no less, he's left with no other option but to regroup and start over again. The road of life isn't always straight and it certainly isn't always easy, but sometimes it's those twists and turns that find you your closest friends and—if you're really lucky—the love of your life.

Louis just happens to be very lucky.

A Holiday Inn AU.

Need So Much Of You - Harry/Louis (fake relationship, would have been canon compliant thanks covid, famous/famous, friends to lovers, coming out)

The would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

Caught In Your Gravity - Harry/Louis (footballer Louis, coach Harry, friends to lovers, secret relationship, lots of footie, humor, banter)

An AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

I Just Wanna Give You Love - Harry/Louis (famous/non-famous, soulmates)

The one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is…well…not.

All 40 to 40 Countdown Posts

#40 to 40 #happy birthday countdown to me #i actually feel a little bad putting so many fics on this one #but for real all of these fics came to mind with specific interactions #and they all are so important to me because of that #so i had to put all five on here just for that reason really lol #the people SCREAMING AT ME for DAYS because of the one night inn fic omg #and so many people agreeing with my hatred of mourhino in caught in your gravity lololololol #and just the absolute lovelies with the other three truly i love all of you #fic rec #self rec

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trespresh · 3 months

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let me go, don't you ever

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

+ reader: afab, no pronouns used partner: amab, he/him word count: 7.1k rating: explicit. very explicit. tw for basically anything you'd expect with deep nasty vampire sex: primal play, blood play, blood drinking, biting, rough sex (but with feelings!)… and a little cockwarming, as a treat

idk man I just write the fic I want to read about the sex I want to have.

This ended up being one of the big primal scenes I've always wanted to write but never had anywhere to put it. It is purely a fantasy put to words. This is a real plug-n-play style fic. It's xreader but the partner is not specifically described. You can copy and paste your favorite little guy in there, or just use this as a blank canvas and go to town!

This xreader style of fic is a first for me, and I'm still tbd on whether I'll post it to ao3. I think about scenes like this a lot just for my own uhhhh enjoyment, and I’ve just never actually written it down in this format before. I’m a little nervous but taking my own advice about no shame and no judgment ✌️ but also be nice to me lol

(tl;dr - It’s deeply self-indulgent pov primal vampire sex. There will be blood.)

The first time he ever drinks from you, he’s a little crazy-eyed and desperate, a few hours too many past the last time he drank anything.

You’ve talked about this before: how you’d like to try it, how he would too. Never specifics, never how or when. But right now, the air seems to crackle in the space between you, magnetic and intriguing, and you realize that you really want this now. Even as your eyes catch on the flash of his fangs when he licks his lips, you think, yeah.

You want this, and you trust him, and you want to help him if you can, so you ask, “Would it help?”

You can tell he’s trying hard to keep his eyes on yours, but he can’t catch himself before glancing down at your throat a few times. You watch him watch the pulse in your neck before he drags his eyes back up to yours. When he takes a step forward, you can’t help it—your heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Easy, it’s just me,” he murmurs gently, like you’re a skittish animal, and you’re suddenly aware that he’d heard your heart leap. His eyes finally drop to your neck and hold there. “Yeah sweetheart, it’ll help. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Your next breath is shaky. You know he hears that, too.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, quiet.

His eyes flick up to yours long enough for you to see a wave of red flood through them completely until they’re so dark they’re almost black. He steps close enough to lean down and nuzzle against your throat.

“A little,” he breathes, his lips brushing your skin in an apologetic kiss. His tongue comes out to lick along your pulse when it jumps at his words and touch. “At first. God, I’ll make it good though, I promise, please just—let me. Let me.”

His voice has a tiny, desperate whine to it, and you can only shiver when you feel the points of his teeth come to rest against your skin like he already knows you’ll say yes. When you finally nod just enough for him to feel it, you barely get the word “yes” out before his hand is coming up to the other side of your neck to hold you still, and then he’s biting down.

He’s right. It does hurt at first, but in a strange, subdued way. Like two small blades sinking into your neck, except they’re so sharp you barely feel it as they split your skin. The pain is almost sweet, somehow.

His teeth withdraw and then you can hear the soft, wet noises of his mouth and tongue on your neck; it’s hard to reconcile what’s happening with the pull under your skin, the strange suction as the blood is pulled from you. It’s like he’s working you from the inside and out—the hot slide of the blood in your veins before it passes through the holes into the equally hot slide of his tongue and down his throat.

It’s far more intimate than you expected. Visceral and primal, somehow, this new way you’ve given your body to him.

You can’t help the strangled gasp you make, and when your hand raises up to grip his arm, he pulls away immediately. That shadowy pool-of-blood color fades until you can see the sharpness with which he watches you, scanning you over. You feel a trickle of blood trail down your neck; when you lift your hand to wipe it away, he snags your wrist out of the air, threads his fingers through yours, and brings your joined hands around to rest at the small of your back. It’s a gentle way of holding you in place, firm enough for you to relax into.

He ducks his head and licks over the skin on your neck. The idea that he’s cleaning you up should maybe gross you out but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it sends something swooping through your gut, fever-hot, and you realize—oh, fuck, you like this.

When he pulls away from you, you stare up at his face as you’re hit with a strange sensation on your neck—as if the skin is knitting together somehow, closing up and scabbing over. You raise your free hand up to check your neck only to feel half-healed skin instead, as if the pin prick holes are already days old. He grins when you look back up at him in confusion.

“The venom has, uh, healing properties,” he answers your unasked question. “Apparently it's how enough venom can turn someone. Healing the body before it can ever break down enough to die or something, you know?”

You swallow hard at the casual tone in his voice. You don’t want to think about him dying but you don’t know what to say, so you just nod. He watches you carefully for a moment before sliding a hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks against your mouth.

Again, you nod. “I’m okay. It was—” you search for the right words, trying to ignore the way you feel the healing wound pull slightly when you swallow hard. “—nice. It felt… not good, but uh. Intense, I guess. Deep.”

Your cheeks heat a bit but he only smiles and hums in understanding.

“For me, too,” he agrees. While he tilts his head to kiss under your jaw, you wonder idly what it must be like for him, to bite into flesh and drink the hot liquid lifeforce underneath. You’re thinking about what the texture of blood might feel like, when he sighs into your skin and adds, contemplatively, “You’re sweet.”

You flush happily with the endearment. “I just wanted to help.”

He meets your eyes again, smiling wickedly. “You did help. Very much. But I meant you taste sweet.”

Your heart pounds again at that, and he hums and taps a finger against your pulse to the beat.

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, distractedly, more to himself than to you. “Like burnt, melted sugar.”

You don’t know what to say to that, and he seems to know that. He leans down to kiss you again and says, so quiet you barely hear him, “Thank you.”

And you can’t help but relax into him.

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

“This seems like overkill,” you say, trying not to laugh as you sit on the bed, watching him line water bottles, a bowl of fruit, and a package of your favorite cookies on the nightstand. He’s already put a towel down next to the bed. “You’re not a blood donation center, you don’t have to give me cookies.”

He throws you a grin and shrugs. “I don’t know what this’ll be like. I’ve never done this before and I just, I don’t know. Need to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, fond despite yourself. “I trust you.”

It was you who finally asked for this but he hadn’t taken any convincing, so you get the feeling he’s just been waiting for you to bring it up, to make the first move. Now that it’s going to happen, his need for preparedness and eagerness to do this right for both of you is endearing. The pillows are soft when you lean back against them, letting your knees fall wide and enjoying the way he watches the movement.

“Come here.”

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before crawling over you; you get your arms around his neck and pull him down. He meets you easily for a kiss that doesn’t take long to turn filthy with your gasp when he gets a hand into your hair and tugs gently, and his tiny moan when you nip at his lower lip and meet his tongue with yours.

Without pulling away from your lips, he snakes a hand down to the inside of your knee and pushes your leg open to make more room for himself. He settles his hips just under yours and thrusts up, and you can’t help but rock down in return just to feel him start to harden and press against you through his sweatpants. A gasp escapes you into the kiss when he nudges against your clit through the layers of clothing.

When he pulls away, his hand falls from your hair to rest at your throat.

“Here,” he says quietly, tapping two fingers on your pulse there. His other hand trails up your knee and stops at the top of your inner thigh, where he taps two fingers again. “And here. Okay?”

Your heartbeat picks up immediately and you know he hears it but you don’t care. You swallow hard against the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat, meet his eyes, and nod.

“Good,” he says in a low, pleased tone that sends a happy little shiver down your spine.

His hand leaves your throat so he can lean up on that hand like he needs a better angle—and then he kisses you again like that will distract you from the way his other hand slides up from your thigh to dip under the waistband of your shorts, like it’ll stifle the little noise of surprise when he cups you with his whole hand, curling his fingers down and into you only to the first knuckle. You arch up into his hand as he flexes his fingers to tease between your hole and clit. You’re wet enough already that he can gather some of it on his fingertips and drag the wetness up over your clit, where he circles lightly a few times before dragging his hand from your shorts. He smirks at the way your breathing goes high and quick just from the brief feel of his hand on you.

“Tease,” you huff, and his smirk widens into a grin.

“You think so?” He says, mock thoughtfully, as he sits up and tugs your shorts off your hips, all the way down your legs until he can throw them off to the side. And then he’s shuffling back on his knees, dropping both hands to the insides of your knees, and spreading you wide for him. He spends a few moments just looking at you while you try not to squirm.

It’s uncomfortable, and yet somehow it sends fire through your gut. You can feel his gaze like a tangible weight. You’re not sure if you like the way he’s openly studying you or not, but you want to be what he needs, so you hold still and let him look. You shift a little when he runs a finger lightly right down the very center of you like he just wants to test what you feel like. You shiver, and then he leans down, presses a kiss to the inside of your upper thigh, and lowers his mouth to you.

Your skin is so heated that his mouth feels almost cool, and you moan when he tongues at your clit in a touch so gentle that you writhe up against him, seeking more until he weaves his arms under your thighs to clutch up at your hips and hold you down on the bed. No matter how hard you arch up against him, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s stronger than you. If he wants you held down and open for him, then that’s what you’ll be.

You know you’re lucky because not only is he good at this, but he enjoys it. You laugh breathily at the reminder of that fact when you feel his fingers at your hole—only for your laugh to cut off in a sigh when he slides a finger into you. He immediately crooks his finger up and pets right over your g-spot, as if it’s second nature for him to make you feel good with how well he knows your body by now. As if it’s his goal and his right to watch you throw your head back against his pillows.

And then he buries his face against you and groans softly like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

You gasp at the vibration of the enthusiastic noises he makes. Your hands drop to stroke through his hair, pushing it back from his face so you can watch the way his eyes go half-lidded up at you, his mouth working, forearm flexing as he works another finger into you. The way his nose is crushed against you sends the heat of his heavy breaths in waves over your skin and you are so lit up, up, up for him that you just know you won’t last long with his fingers in you like this.

Or his teeth, you realize as you become aware of the feeling of him rubbing two fingers into the skin of your upper thigh. Your clit throbs between his lips when your heart hammers, remembering what’s about to happen, and suddenly you want it so badly you can barely breathe. Either your anticipation is contagious or he’s already as eager for this as you are, because he licks a final, slow stripe up from where his fingers are pressed inside you up to the top of your clit, which he sucks briefly, humming just for the way it makes you arch up and moan—before he finally lets go to trail kisses over to your inner thigh instead, his fingers still moving inside you.

It’s thrilling, the way he nuzzles against your thigh like he’s savoring the feel—or smell?—of you. When he starts to suck a bruise into your skin, it’s like a tiny electrical current fires up your thigh and into your clit, down through to where he’s still fucking you on his fingers. He curls them up to drag against your g-spot so perfectly that you sob and try to twitch your hips up every time.

By the time he licks over the new bruise and shifts his mouth just a little lower to a clear patch of skin, you’re feeling dizzy in the face of your looming orgasm. You’re so ready for his bite, so eager to find out what it feels like, that when he scrapes his teeth over your skin and looks up to meet your gaze, you’re nodding before he even asks the question.

He asks anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Do it. Please, I’m ready,” you say, because you think you are.

When he bites through the thin, sensitive skin into the flesh of your inner thigh, though, you can’t help the whimper that escapes you or the way your fingers tighten hard in his hair. It’s the same razor-sweet sharpness you’ve felt in the past when he’s bitten into your neck or your wrist—only here, while you’re naked and spread wide for him and already close to coming on his fingers, it’s like lightning jolting up through you. Like that thin electrical current that had formed alongside the bruise he gave you has now been amplified to a sparking livewire between your clit and where his fangs pierce your skin.

His head jerks a little in your hold when you tug on his hair, and his fingers freeze inside you when he pulls his teeth out, seals his mouth over the wounds, and sucks hard. There’s a breathless, still moment while he gets his first taste of you, and then his eyes glaze over with that eerie red-black color and he whines into your skin; he scrambles to get his free hand under your thigh and pulls you harder against his face.

With every heartbeat, you can feel the blood thrum through your groin, then down your thigh to pulse in thick rushes against his lips and tongue when he sucks on the holes he made in your skin. It’s a hot, liquid feedback loop that has your head spinning, and you clench down around his fingers because you’re close, you’re so close—

“Please, god, I’m so fucking—,” you babble through your open-mouth panting, so caught up in the way he’s playing with your body like he knows just how to curl his fingers and exactly how to twirl his tongue over your skin to make you moan and fall apart for him.

He sucks one final mouthful of blood from your inner thigh before pulling away, panting for air while your eyes catch on how red and wet his lips are. He licks a flat strip over the punctures—and then without waiting to make sure the holes have begun healing, he presses his face between your legs again. His lips close around your clit, sucking messily at the same time he fucks his fingers in and out of you, urgent and deep like he’s frantic to get you there, desperate to see you come.

It feels so deliriously good that you’re already teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he eases down onto his stomach between your legs; between one thrust and the next, he slides a third finger in alongside the other two, dragging hard over your g-spot with each stroke. After that, all it takes is one glance down at him to see the way his hips are grinding down against the bed like he’s so hard right now that he can’t help but seek friction—and then he’s pressing his free thumb to the healing puncture wounds on your thigh and you are launched over the edge into your orgasm.

It explodes through you so violently that you arch off the bed, gasping around a high moan and pulling him into you by your hold in his hair, grinding against his face as he moans and curls his fingers inside you and stares up at you, rapt, like he would rather die than miss this.

You can feel his heavy gaze the whole time you ride down the peak of your orgasm, his fingers slowing into long strokes that ease you through it. Finally, you tug on his hair when you’re twitching through the aftershocks and he pulls away from you, panting. He rests his forehead against your thigh while he catches his breath; finally he says, “Fuck,” and looks up at you with his normal, clear eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree faintly, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm and the memory of his teeth in you, his tongue working against you in such different ways.

You glance down at him, gently stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes are lazy and satisfied from where he looks up at you between your thighs. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, his lips red and swollen, and his hair is growing messier by the minute from your wandering hands. You can’t stop staring at the way his mouth and chin are still wet with your slick and a little bit of leftover blood.

He looks good like this, you decide. Really good.

Movement catches your eye over his shoulder, and when you lift your head to look down his body, you see his hips still working against the bed like he’s not even conscious of it. It sends a strike of need through you so strong that you can’t help but tighten your grip in his hair and tug him up. He goes easily, crawling up your body to get his mouth on yours, and when you deepen the kiss, his tongue tastes sweetly metallic.

“Fuck me,” you say.

He nods eagerly, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. You push at the waistband, tugging them down his hips demandingly, and he shifts back to pull them down and kick them off the bed. Then he’s naked and hard and kneeling over you, looking at you the way a starving wolf must look at an unsuspecting bunny.

It’s a heady feeling, having that intensity turned on you, so you bask in it and let him take over.

He flips you over with a hand at your side, then pulls you back toward himself and tugs at your hip insistently enough for you to understand—you lift up just enough for him to shove a pillow under your hips. He takes a second to position you how he wants you, hitching your hips up and back toward him. He pushes your thighs together and throws a leg over you so his knees are against the outsides of your thighs and he can really lean over you. You expect the feel of his cock nudging at your hole so you’re surprised when he slips two fingers into you instead, like he just wants another feel. It’s an easy slide; you’re slick enough, wet with his spit and your blood and how much you need him to fuck you right now, come on.

He pulls his fingers free, strokes that slickness over his cock a few times, and lines up. Even though you’re so keyed up and ready for him that you might spark and explode, you immediately clench down when you feel him press against you, throwing a smirk over your shoulder at him.

You know he likes it when you make him work for it, sometimes, and this definitely seems like one of those times; you know you’re right by the way he murmurs, almost playful, “Let me in.” He presses a little harder against you until you feel yourself start to give. “Come on baby, let me in, let me—fuck yeah,” he groans then when he pulls your thighs open just a little and thrusts against you just enough for his cockhead to finally pop in and he can slide in, smooth and sudden.

It’s so good you both moan with it. Fucking finally, you think, once he’s as deep as he can get and rocking his hips just a little to let you both get used to the feel of it. Then he’s slowly pulling back, back, back—until he’s all the way out again and huffing a low laugh when you whine at the loss. He presses his cockhead against you again, so close to pushing inside that it’s cruel, the way he’s holding you down by the hips when you try to rock back onto him.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and you’re about to snap back at the amusement you can hear in his voice when he eases back into you, slower this time like he wants to make you feel every inch.

You gasp and drag his pillow toward yourself, clenching your fists in it just to have something to hold onto. Once he’s fully inside again, he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s sweet and still for a moment before he sits up, gets a tight grip on your hips, and starts to fuck you.

You drop your head and moan into the pillow that smells like him, arching your lower back just a little bit more off the pillow under your hips; you can’t help the high moan that escapes, louder, when he drags directly across your g-spot with every thrust. Just like that, you sink against the bed, loose-limbed and pliant in his hold, and let him make your body feel good.

It’s always easy to get lost in it with him—tonight is no different, but it’s more. You can’t stop the gasps and breathy moans that fall from your mouth; not now, not when you’re surrounded by him like this. Even when you turn your head on the pillow and stare to the side, you’re still surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

You’re aware, distantly, that he’s still holding back, and that he’s still so much stronger than you even know. But even so, he’s rougher than normal, fucking you in long, harsh strokes that jerk you forward each time. It’s not long before his hand slides all the way up from your hip into the back of your hair so he can yank your head back. He leans low over your back to nuzzle his face into your exposed neck, and when he breathes in heavily you realize—holy fuck, he’s smelling you. Your already-pounding heart starts to hammer against your ribs and you rock your hips back to meet his thrusts, and you can’t focus on anything except himhimhim—so ready for him to bite down that it makes you throb around him—

But then he’s slamming in hard once, holding for a few agonizing moments while you squirm against him, seeking friction with a desperate whine—before he’s pulling all the way out with a gasped, “Fuck!” and flipping you onto your back.

It’s urgent, now, the way he shoves the pillow under your hips and tugs you toward him. He shifts forward on his knees between your legs so he can pull your thighs over his, and then he’s leaning forward and burying himself inside again with a groan like even those few seconds were too long to not be inside you.

This new angle forces him to drag insistently across your g-spot with almost every thrust and you know immediately that you won’t last long like this. Your eyes roll back but you can feel his gaze on you anyway, watching while your brows curve in and how your jaw drops open on moans growing louder by the second.

He slows his thrusts into long, smooth rolls so that you’re held steady when he leans down to get his lips on your neck. It’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders, and when your nails scrape down his back again, he shivers against you with a low moan.

“Tell me again,” he says, licking at your pulse.

You don’t hesitate. “Do it, please do it, pl—” you cut off in a strangled whimper when he gets one hand in your hair, tugs your head to the side to make room for himself, and bites down.

It’s blindingly, stunningly euphoric. His teeth split the skin of your neck so gently—such a drastic comparison to the way he’s fucking you—and you feel the way he sucks hard over the wounds all the way down into your clit. Your hand flies down to circle frantically over your clit, listening to his heavy breaths and the messy sound of his mouth on your skin, the wet noises his throat makes as he swallows your blood.

It’s too much, it’s all too much, it’s beautiful and horrible and deep and intense and you’ve never felt anything like this before as he fucks you hard and drinks from you and you love it—but then he licks over the puncture holes and pulls back from your neck to gasp against your collarbone. The holes on your neck ache as they stitch together, and you gasp against the sensation.

You can tell he’s close by the way he slides both arms up under your back to get a grip on the top of your shoulders and hold you secure against him. He ducks his head and his fangs re-pierce your neck through the half-healed holes—you’re surprised when it hurts more than the first time he bit you a few moments ago. You gasp and squirm against him but his hold on you is tight. He sucks at the holes for a brief moment then presses his tongue against them like he’d only needed a taste, before he drops his forehead against the pillow next to you and slams his hips against yours so hard you can hear it.

He wastes no time in launching into a brutal rhythm, and with his face down by your ear, you can hear every noise he makes—a breathy gasp when you dig your fingers into his ass to urge on every thrust, a choked moan when you tilt your hips up and clench around him. You turn your head enough that you can get your mouth on his neck, licking over the sheen of sweat there before you bite him back. Your teeth do no damage, of course, but the heartstopping little whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge right there.

He’s never fucked you like this before, so desperate and fevered like he wants to put you through the mattress—and you can’t think, can’t do anything but choke on each breath and dig your nails into his back and scrape them down his sides and shiver at the ragged, guttural edge to his responding groan against your neck. You do it again and his hips twitch; his breaths are coming high and quick and you can feel how close he is, so all you have to do is tilt your head to the side so your bloody throat is bared to him and let a soft, shaky moan out against his ear so he can hear how good he’s making you feel, and that’s it.

He presses his face into your neck with a choked-off groan, wet and filthy and smothered against your skin. His hands fly down to grip your hips and pull you down on him at the same time his hips jerk forward until he’s so deep it almost hurts—and he holds there, his hips just barely moving as he comes inside you.

Every tiny thrust is punctuated by breathy little moans while he uses you to ride out his orgasm, grinding in slowly like he can’t get close enough to you. Like he would crawl his way inside you if it were possible, if you’d let him, and you’re close—you’re so fucking close with the way he’s still rocking against you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you’re right on the edge of your orgasm when suddenly his mouth is at your throat again; he chases a trail of blood sliding down your neck with his tongue before his lips close around the wound again and then he bites gently and sucks hard and your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, and you are gone.

You think maybe you scream a little, because he groans in response and starts thrusting a little harder to fuck you through it. It’s good, it’s so fucking good that right at the peak of it, your vision whites out and you wonder, far off and detached, about what this must do to your blood.

It’s clearly something great, you think dizzily as you start to come down from it all, because he’s still buried against your neck, licking slowly over the blood leaking from the bite.

“Fuck, you have no idea what it tastes like when you come like that,” he rasps, voice wrecked and with a faint whine that would sound like he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way he closes his mouth over the holes and sucks again.

You hum in relaxed satisfaction and bring your arms up around his shoulders, luxuriating in the skin contact and the grounding weight of him. You scratch lightly over the back of his head until he shivers against you. Your skin thrums, lit up and abuzz everywhere you’re touching as you breathe against each other.

After a few moments, his hands trail up from your hips. One gets a hold on one of your wrists from around his neck and pushes it down against the sheets; the other hand rests heavily across your collarbone.

He’s leaning on you just hard enough that breathing starts to take some effort, so you say, “Okay,” and tug on the back of his hair with your free hand.

He doesn’t pull back. You can feel the tip of his tongue working against one of the holes in your neck, dipping in just a bit until the sensation teeters on the edge of queasy pain. You make a strangled little noise but still, he doesn’t pull away from the messy wet heat on your neck.

“Hey, okay,” you mutter again, tugging harder on his hair and at the back of his neck, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. “Baby please, enough, you—you gotta—” your voice trails off in a weak slur and your grip loosens in his hair.

He’s been hesitant to bite you while fucking you ever since he drank from you for the very first time, and you wonder maybe if this is why. If this is what he meant when he’s always said, it’s… overwhelming. But you’d meant it when you told him you trust him with this—and even now when your mind wanders and your body thrums lazily while his mouth works at your neck, you still trust him to get himself under control.

After all, this is him. You trust him—you always have. You’ve known him for what feels like a very long time, both before and after he changed into what he is now. You’ve been figuring this out together: what works and what doesn’t, what he needs and how much he can take from you to satiate that need without endangering you. There have been a few moments of trial and error that led to learning where the line crosses over into him taking too much from you.

You like him like that, though, after those few rare times when he’s accidentally taken too much, leaving you woozy and exhausted. He gets sweet. There’s something protective and reassuring in the way he dotes, and in how he doesn’t let you lift a finger for a day or two after while you recover. He’s always kept himself under enough control before that it has never occurred to you to feel worried around him.

But now, while he’s got one hand flat across your collarbone and the other holding your wrist down to the sheets—now, while his lips work at your throat, the rush of blood so close under your skin as he pulls it from you and rhythmically swallows—now, as you realize you’re a little lightheaded, and wondering, huh, when did that happen?

Now, a traitorous little flicker of unease settles in your gut.

You push weakly at his shoulder but it does nothing; it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. His hips are still absently grinding against yours like he can’t help it, like despite the fact that he’s half-soft at this point, it hasn’t even occurred to him to stop moving. The hand on your collarbone trails up to grip your jaw, two fingers sliding into your mouth to rest on your tongue and hold your jaw open like a reminder to breathe—or maybe it’s just another way he wants to be inside you.

His fingers or cock, his tongue or teeth—it’s like he doesn’t know how to hold back from pushing his way inside anyway he can.

A stifled whimper escapes you as he hums into your skin and sucks unhurriedly. He’s holding you tightly, pressed down against the bed. Twisting under his grip does nothing to throw him, and trying to get your wrist free is a useless attempt. He’s strong—you sometimes forget just how inhumanly strong he is, when he usually touches you so delicately, with such control and care.

Right now, while you’re held down under him, still on his cock and with his teeth in your neck—you are forcefully and viscerally reminded that he is not human. He really could kill you like this, if he decided he wanted to.

The thought sends a rare jolt of curious fear through your gut. You’re well and truly caught under him—all his to do whatever he wants with. It’s an alarming, confusingly heated realization that has you twitching your hips up to meet his lazy post-orgasm ruts at the same time your heart starts to pound with instinctual panic.

You wonder distantly if maybe fear does something to your blood too, because only a few heartbeats after the thought crosses your mind, he’s ripping his mouth away from you with a curse and leaning up on his elbows to look down at you with rapidly clearing eyes.

He must see something on your dazed face because he curses under his breath again and his hand comes up to cup your chin. With his thumb on one side of your jaw and his callused index finger on the other side, he gently tilts your chin up and over to expose your neck fully to him. He hums and ducks close to lick flat and warm over the holes in your neck. To heal, not to taste.

You feel the same strange sensation as every other time—that same tickle of the skin knitting together and the blood flow stopping under the sore, healing skin. He keeps licking at you, cleaning the last of the blood from your skin before pressing a gentle kiss first to what’s left of the wound, then up under your jaw, then leaning up even further to press his lips to yours. You’re still a little faded and sluggish but you kiss back as best you can, and you know that when he pulls away with a soft red smile, you smile back at him with blood on your lips.

Your thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, your vision tunneling on him like he’s magnetized, your mind pleasantly blank as you watch him like you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your mouth again. When he pulls back, he seems a little dazed too in the way his mouth is open and pink, his eyes half-lidded and only half-focused like he’s high on whatever was in your blood.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, an odd plea to his voice. “That was—fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how it would be. I could have—“ he cuts himself off and swallows hard. He ducks to check the healing wound on your neck like he’s making sure it’s still working. “Are you okay?”

You hum absently. He starts to pull out but you’re quick to tighten your legs around him, holding him close. “Don’t,” you mumble. “‘M okay, just… stay.”

He watches you for a moment before kissing you again. He could easily break your hold on him and pull away, especially with how weakened you are right now, but he doesn’t. He lets you keep him close and returns the favor, holding you tight and rocking his hips to push all the way back inside you. You sigh and settle back against the pillows to bask in the feeling of him holding you down, grounded and safe.

He leans up onto his elbows and reaches for one of the water bottles he’d lined up on the nightstand, cracking the cap before holding it gently against your mouth for you to drink. The berries from the bowl come next, and after feeding you a few, he settles back over you and sighs.

With his thumb running over your cheek, you drift.

Maybe it’s the blood loss and two really fucking good orgasms, or the way he’s still inside you, your legs hitched up around his hips while he takes care of you, but your fear is gone as quickly as it started. This is still him. He still looks like himself, tastes like himself, smells and feels and acts like himself. Still in control of himself, even if belatedly. It’s him, and you know you’re safe.

But in that single moment, that instinctual awareness shifted something aside in your gut. Yes, he is still himself, but that brief flicker of prey instinct was an unexpected, immediate reminder that he is not human. There is something other about him.

You knew this already, but now you know it. You’ve felt it in the strength of his grip around your wrists and in the close, fleshy sound of his teeth in your neck. And, startlingly, it’s intriguing. You are safe with him. You know this in your gut. You have no reason to be afraid of him, but… what if you did?

Flashes of what-ifs begin to crash through your mind: thoughts of him holding you down with all his strength, letting you thrash and fight against his grip until you’re too exhausted to hold him off from tugging your pants down and using you however he wants; the network of bruises his fingerprints could leave on your throat and arms and thighs, and the way they’d ache deliciously for the next few days; the way his back would look scratched bloody from your nails, and the sounds he might make—guttural growls and savage snarls against your neck as he fucks you like you’re both nothing more than animals.

What it would feel like if he looked at you with eyes red-black with wicked intent and said, run. How your heart would pound as he gave you a thirty-second head start as if you had any chance of outrunning him, as if he knew that the desperation that would build within you in those thirty seconds would flavor your blood so sweetly.

What it would feel like for him to hunt you down like prey.

It’s like the door to something dark and primal in your brain and your gut is slowly unlocking as you consider the possibilities of what could happen if he leaned into his natural instincts. If he acted like the apex predator he is.

You shiver. He notices and presses a gentle kiss to your hair.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says curiously. “What’re you thinking about?”

And really, how could you ever ask him for something like that?

You file it away to think about more later. For now, you simply squirm against him contentedly and say, “Nothing.”

He leans up on his elbows and says playfully, “I don’t believe that for a second,” but he leaves it alone in favor of giving you your favorite of all his smiles.

It's the big grin that always makes you smile and laugh in response. It’s a cheesy smile, overexaggerated and goofy, but you love it. It’s cute, how he squeezes his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up, but there’s something sweeter about this smile in the way he’s showing you all his teeth, the fangs prominent and obvious. Almost as if it’s to make you laugh as much as it is a show of comfort and gentle vulnerability. It’s an “I trust you to see me” reminder that makes your heart feel huge as your eyes soften on him.

You pull him down again to kiss the smile off his face, and again, you relax into him. Again, and again, and again.

#vampire sex

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openphrase123 · 18 days

Text

i just finished this fic! it's good!

and because it's all done i want to like... be a LITTLE self indulgent and talk under the cut about some miscellaneous things that i ran into while writing it. don't click the readmore if you're interested in the fic and haven't read it yet i'm about to spoil the Whole thing.

also there is an epilogue to this fic now - go read that before this post if you're getting to this before the update!!

so!! i haven't written fanfiction in like FIVE YEARS. it's been a while! part of that is because i was doing original stuff and part of it was i was in a creative slump. so isat kind of dug me out of that and i owe it my thanks. i've been able to do a crazy amount of original work since starting this fic, it's brought back my creative discipline. in like seven years when my video game comes out you can thank isat for that probably

i originally set out thinking this was the only fic for isat i was going to write. and then as i was writing this i fell deeper into it. i kind of got out of isat a little disappointed in how it ended?? but now that i'm here i'm like ah it's fine. just cause i would have done something different in dev's position doesn't mean it's bad. it does mean i can write a bunch of fanfiction exploring things i wish had been tackled more in the game though LOL

i said this in one of the chapter authors notes but i DID start out curtain call hating loop with every fiber of my being. (as in i liked them as a character UNTIL the act 6 reveal which i thought was lame) and then i played through the game a second time knowing the loop twist and went "oh nvm this makes sense" so a lot of the loop stuff in this fic was actually written twice. originally i was just gonna have them soulmerge with siffrin and not be present at all but then i was like. no. i do want to keep this lighthearted and that's too depressing of an end for loop. i do have a loop postcanon doc so i'll go repay them for their slapdashed involvement in curtain call someday

i'm in a weird position with curtain call in that i wrote the themes and major conflicts Directly After playing through isat the first time. before i could really marinate and analyze the characters fully. so there are a lot of scenes and points where i think i wouldn't characterize certain people like that if i were to rewrite this from scratch? however i don't disagree with what i've written either - it's just an interpretation that i don't necessarily think is my favorite anymore.

neither is any of the worldbuilding i did for any of this - it works for curtain call and i think it was nice but i don't necessarily think it's my current interpretation of what the culture and people were like? i like the wishes being permanent thing, i like the language stuff, but i'd probably go in a different direction if i went through this again

i do actually still think "the forgotten island was destroyed by a volcano" is my solid headcanon explanation of what happened to it. in my heart. i think like - with siffrin as a character especially it's very important that he's always missing something, that it's not idyllically happy for them at the end of everything. so even if he can remember more from their own past, it's - you know - there's no way to go back. only forward.

in the vein of this i probably could have killed siffrin/loop's entire childhood family but i did not. mostly because i did think it was fun for him to have to explain all of those cultural taboos they broke to survive. which, of course, was not a big deal - any good parent would rather their kid be alive than lawful - but what is isat other than a vehicle to make siffrin work through every moral compulsion and spiral they experience

i had a thought halfway through writing the fic that i was stepping on the very good and beautiful odile friendquest by making the island real and having a lot of siffrin's personality dictate how it went. but i ultimately decided on keeping siffrin very close to their country, more than odile is to vaugarde, because siffrin actually DID live on the island when he was a kid and that i think is a Different type of "longing for your country" trauma than odile's. i think they can still drink over the feelings together though

writing bonnie is very fun but very emotional for me. the bonnie&siffrin age gap (preteen to late-20s) is the exact age gap between me and my niece so every time i need to sit down and write something for them i think about her and how much she's a little baby growing up. this has nothing to do with bonnie it just makes writing bonnie really hard for me

if the entire history of my ao3 account was not an indicator, i'm a very big fan of writing romance, but i did not want it to take over curtain call at all. i also could have left out sloopis entirely and almost did, but thought "you know. with the way loop functions in this fic. i should at least let that be open ended" cause sharing a body with a version of you who is dating some other guy is gonna get messy no matter what. it's just not necessarily something i had time to or the urge to explore here. think of it as a fun spiritual nod to the fact that isafrin is technically open ended in isat (<- cop out answer)

i think i'm pretty vocal in how much i am absolutely insane for the flashback "happiest i can remember being" conversation. who let them do that. i think a lot of how i worked with mirabelle and siffrin's relationship in this fic kind of revolved around that. important to me that it ends with mira checking in on him and getting the answer she was looking for all along <3

overall i'm happy with curtain call. glad i am done with it though. there's so much that's running in with it at once. i'll probably wait a month and reread the whole thing to myself front to back before i start having fond memories of this. i mean it's always gonna be the fic my nephew was born during and i'll always remember having a panic attack in the airport right after posting chapter 7 but it's gonna be weird letting this one sail off into the ocean of the internet. however feel free to ask anything about the fic, i wrote this in a lil hurry on a bad day and probably didn't cover everything

goodbye, curtain call!! i love you!!!!! i'll miss you!!!!

[looks both ways, waiting for most people to leave]

also. if you've read this far. i hope it's not too gauche of me to link my personal project. if you've read over 100k words of this you might enjoy the game i'm developing? i've been working on it for almost a year but i just started the devlog last month. it's still in early baby stages as far as a full video game goes but if you liked this you'll like the game when it comes out (similar nickname culture, timeloop trauma, petty interpersonal drama, very stupid jokes, natural disaster angst)

also there isn't a lot on the devblog yet, i've mostly been doing programming on it, i JUST started visdev i'm sorry if it's uglyyyyy (FOR NOW)

anyway i'm trusting you with that link. i'm going to use my professional name on that project when it airs don't cross the wires pretty please just pretend that's a butch-y cis woman's game <3 guard the closet door babeyyyyy

#isat #yaaay :)

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mixelation · 5 months

Note

thoughts on itadei, itakisa, and itasaku? and i guess any other popular itachi ships that are not currently coming to mind for me lol

ItaDei

Love it. Have written tens of thousands of words about it. It's sort of a frustrating ship to write because they're both assholes about their own feelings (and I don't think Itachi in canon... has a lot of thoughts on Deidara), but Deidara has an extremely canonical gay melt down over Itachi, so I feel like there's a lot of ridiculousness to explore. The fact that they're both criminal villain ninja means there's a lot of room for understanding that other ships might not have. Yes, Deidara blows buildings up with people inside, what of it? He's not like "ooh aah you monster!!" over the Uchiha Massacre. And I like that they both have wildly different, but demonstrably lethal/successful, attitudes towards problem solving. Like I think they cover a lot of each other's flaws while also making each other worse, you know?

Since it's "brutally honest" opinion time, I will add a complaint I haven't made in a while. I hate the way a good chunk of fandom writes Deidara in mlm ships. For some reason, people like to make him a naive uwu bean to play the "feminine" role. Stop that, it's boring and OOC.

ItaKisa

This is a ship I don't really mind but also don't find super compelling. I'm not a big Kisame fan-- like he's fine, I like writing and reading about him fine-- but he's not one of my favorite Akatsuki members. I don't filter on ItaKisa but the tag won't make me NOT click a fic. I could be compelled to write it if I had an idea for it. I do prefer exploring their relationship from a more platonic angle. Kisame is most interesting to me when he's the guy dealing with Itachi's bullshit 24/7 and somehow still thriving.

ItaSaku

My original OTP!!!!!! Okay so I think they're super compatible and HERE'S WHY--

Basically I think Itachi is someone who has idealized romance in a way where he has an extensive very bland fantasy about nice Konoha girls who let him have the most bland vanilla hetersosexual marriage of all time. He wants the culturally appropriate equivalent of a white picket fence. Would he actually be happy with this? No, obviously not, but Itachi also thinks he's a pacifist.

Meanwhile Sakura is a violent maniac who is trying her hardest to BE that nice Konoha girl. They indulge each other's insane fantasies about it. Itachi looks at Sakura and is like: "oh yes, the perfect Konoha kunoichi, the student of the Hokage and Hatake Kakashi, a healer with the face of an angel--" But if his ability for self-analysis were 2% better he would realize his favorite Sakura moments are all like "ripped a man in half" and "brought that same man back from the brink of death to interrogate him." He is ready to lay back and let Sakura live out her own fantasy of Fixing the tragic S-ranked missing-nin WITH HER LOVE because that is also what Itachi wants. Ignore that the village is on fire, please

Other Itachi Ships

Let's see.... every once in a while I get intrigued by the idea of Kakashi/Itachi, but I have never hit on anything there that I really like. I'm fine with Shisui/Itachi, but I don't think Shisui has enough of a canon presence for me to go really feral over it like I would ItaSaku or ItaDei. I'm intrigued by some other Itachi/Akatsuki ships although I don't think any of them are popular. For example, I think Itachi and Sasori would clash horribly in that they're both assholes in similar directions, and this would make SasoItaDei a beautiful trashfire for Deidara specifically.

I've written some Itachi-Karin interactions that I thought were fun so I think ItaKarin could be interesting. Ummm..... OH! I regularly forget Izumi even exists. Sorry, Izumi.

#ask meme answer #ninja nonsense

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enchantedchocolatebars · 9 months

Text

Important News + Schedule 💕 🎉 💟 ✨

Since I want 2024 to be a year filled with nothing but writing progress for me, I've decided to work less on short fics so that I can focus more on my ao3 uploads and my multi-chapter Caleb x Clara (My Wittewife) story that I've been secretly working on.

It's titled "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".

(Commission art here)

This is going to be my first time ever writing a full-length fic, and I'm very excited, but also very nervous lol. 😆 😅

NOW DON'T YOU WORRY FOLKS WHO ENJOY READING THE SHORT FICS.

I'LL STILL WRITE THEM SINCE I LOVE DOING THEM + I TOO HAVE IDEAS I WANNA SEE GET WRITTEN + I WILL GET TO ALL THE ONES IN MY INBOX EVENTUALLY, I just won't write them as much.

Of course, anyone and everyone is still welcome to send requests and their headcanons or other stuff sincs my inbox is and has always been open (I'll also answer short stuff too.) 💕 💚 👍 ✅ .

When it comes to my ao3 uploads, I believe that if I upload at least one piece of old content each week, I can get a lot of written content on the site before 2025 (and I'll be able to grow my fan base of readers lol).

Anyway, I think I've said enough lol.

Now, here's the schedule for this week.

Sunday 12 / 31 - "Like To Love You (The Written Animatic)" - (December 31st is Caleb's birthday [Personal headcanon of mine. Wrote a story about it last year.], and we get a cute montage of Clara [My Wittewife] making sure he has the best day ever!) [I USUALLY DON'T ADD SUNDAYS TO MY SCHEDULES BUT TOMMORROW IS AN EXCEPTION. Requested by no one, it's purely self-indulgent lol.] (Fic here.)

Monday 1 / 1 - An ao3 upload (here).

Tuesday 1 / 2 - An ao3 upload (here) and (here)

Wednesday 1 / 3 - An ao3 upload (here.)

Thursday 1 / 4 - I WILL TRY TO FINISH THIS! 😭 (It's for the full length fic). (I FINISHED IT)

Friday 1 / 5 - Post chapter titles for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". Of course, I won't beat myself up if I can't, BUT I WILL TRY TO. 😭 (They are here.)

Saturday 1 / 6 - Post commission cover art for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". I spoke to a mutual of mine who does a lot of commission art for me and she said that she can have the piece done by then, so hooray!!! 💕 🎉 (Art here)

#ao3 #a03 #ao3 writer #a03 writer #the owl house #owl house #toh #caleb wittebane #english muffin husbando #clara clawthorne #wittewife #oc #original character #witteclaw #calara (caleb x clara)#oc x canon #canon x oc #writing

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majachee · 27 days

Note

did you say….a power rangers x td au?

IVE BEEN TRYING TO MAKE ONE BUT HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU I owe my life to you power rangers was the shit

please yap about it I’m begging

IT CAME TO ME IN A VISION EARLY ONE MORNING, AND IT HASN'T LEFT MY BRAIN.

I am writing a fic about it, though it isn't my number 1 priority wip atm cuz its just smth silly and self-indulgent, but because I now know there's someone out there REALLY DIGGING THIS IDEA, it'll be moved up on my list by a few notches lol

This AU is heavily focused on comedy and action, so rather than assigning TD characters to PR roles that they'd actually fit, I went with what would be REALLY FUNNY to write about.

So the Rangers consist of Harold (red), Duncan (Black), Noah (blue), Courtney (yellow), and Heather (pink).

These guys were assigned to work on a lab/project for their science class, specifically on the effects of pollution, littering, and climate change. No take-backsies, they're stuck with eachother and 4/5 of these guys don't want to fail... 4/5 of these guys are also assholes.

After some healthy doses of bitching, they agree to meet up and study an abandoned rig. But GASP! They get attacked by some guys... made of putty? Damn dude that's CRAAAAAAZYYY

... this is specifically based on the MMPR tv show, and I'm very tempted to draw the putty monsters exactly like how their costumes look in the show (silver fullbody suits with seams visible and monster claws/masks.) Listen, the putty monster costumes bring me A LOT OF JOY, I genuinely love this show dO NOT @ ME (unless its for mmpr fanart... please @ me...)

Anyways, these assholes fumble through the fight: Harold shows off the skills he learned at Defensive Steve's Defense Class, Noah gets thrown off a small cliff because he weighs less than a paper weight, Courtney feels the exciting rush of bloodlust for the first time... Normal stuff, really!

Of course, this ends up with all 5 of them being summoned (lazer kidnapped) to Power Rangers Headquarters! And it's revealed that Zorgon's role was taken by Chris McClean I'm SORRY. Look, it's funny. He has the same personality he does in canon, but instead of running a reality TV show centered around teens, he has to babysit a small group of teens who hate eachother. This will be really funny in execution, I promise.

Some of the kiddos have a few words to say about the Dinozords... cuz half of them aren't even dinosaurs. Also, they do NOT like the idea of being forced to work together on a color-coded superhero team of all things!

Drama Bot is Alpha, it focuses on the team's publicity ratings.

Rita Repulsa? Meet Blainely McBlamey!! SELF EXPLANATORY!!

I love Rita Repulsa, so Blainely fans consider this a very high honor.

The Green Ranger is Alejandro.

I plan on having the AU mostly focus on campy episodic adventures with some character development sprinkled in, and having the more important PR plots be... well... important and more thoroughly executed, if I ever get around to it.

As for the main gang themselves?

Harold is quite stoked and honored about being a superhero, and quickly ends up being the team leader and team morale – due to his smarts, and quick-to-forgive personality. He doesn't take shit from anyone, but he also won't hold grudges, especially on the battlefield... Though he does have a slight problem with going on long tangents about certain factoids (same...)

He has a vast array of skills and knowledge at his disposable... It all depends on how/when he uses said skills lmao. So far he's probably the least developed one in this AU, right next to Duncan. That'll change when I write more of them.

Courtney? Oh... Oh you KNOW she likes being a Power Ranger. She preaches about the importance of morals, and upholding laws, and how some people ought to respect the responsibilities that come with being a Power Ranger... and some people are more deserving of being recognized as heroes than others. Courtney I love you and I hope I do you justice... mwah... She very much likes taking the lead, and claims that she should be the team leader... and valedictorian, and class president... Oh yeah, you KNOW she worries about her grades a lot, especially after becoming a Ranger. She becomes a lot more productive with her passion as the story goes on, and learns to trust and respect her teammates.

Noah takes on the role of reluctant tactician... Aka the smartass. Physical activites aren't his forte, and he plans on keeping it that way. He relies on his Zord the most, and when that isn't available he resorts to evasive maneuvers and hiding while the other guys handle it. Him staying on the sidelines, however, does lead to him being more observant to the enemies' weaknesses, which will eventually lead to him having a more active role in the team as the main tactician. I'd imagine once that happens, he'll have a lot of interesting back-and-forths with Harold and Courtney. Still a sarcastic, laidback asshole, but more active in his participation when it comes to the team.

Duncan... is more aligned with his season 1 and early season 2 personality. No cheating or love triangles here. He is still an ASSHOLE, though, especially to Harold and Noah. They don't take his shit. I dont have much to say about him yet iM SORRYYYYYY

Asshole punk with a heart of gold... that's his schtick alright...

HEATHER MY BELOVED. She looks hella good in pink and she knows it. She doesn't like being a part of this team, but by god will she put the effort in, because she doesn't want to die to some clay-freak. Her zord-buddy is the pterodactyl, which she finds to be quite convenient, considering it's on the smaller side and can fly, very easy for aerial advantage. Very hellbent on defeating Blainely McBlamey, because once she's defeated they can all go on with their lives. Presumably... evil grin...

I don't know how to really put it in more fancy words, but like... Heather is the most active participant along with Harold and Courtney. She's very headstrong, tends to butt heads with Courtney a lot (not only are they both stubborn, but they also both view themselves as the leader of the group. Nobody realizes it's Harold, not even Harold himself, dramatic irony at its finest.)

Everyone on the team loses their shit when Alejandro (the enemy[tm]) gets a frickin' DRAGON-ZORD of all things.

If yiu have questions about specific characters or MMPR episodes, I'll do my best to answer lol

#maja needs to shut up tag #ask #anonymous #mighty morphin power campers au #total drama au #td au #total drama #td noah #td duncan #td harold #td heather #td courtney #mighty morphin power rangers

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snezario · 7 months

Text

Technical Difficulties; Vo//x

A/N: The Ha/zb/in Hot/el hyperfixation continues... For the longest time, I struggled with how snz with a television screen for a head would even work but @stormyweaver solved that instantly ty friend (I don't even talk abt it in this fic lol)... Anyways I'm throwing this out into the world and hibernating for the next year!! Here's some very self-indulgent tv demon Suffering

You’ll have to try harder than that next time, old pal.

Alastor’s last words to him play again in his mind. The pompous freak. Which brings Vox to his current situation, standing in front of the stained glass doors of the Hazbin Hotel. He straightens his bowtie and raps on the door three times. Charlie opens the door just as his hand lifts from the third knock. Her shock at seeing one of the Vees at her doorstep is quite apparent. Vox smiles widely and extends his hand.

“Your majesty, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Vox, head of VoxTe-”

“YOU! You gotta lotta fucking nerve coming here!” Before Vox can finish, Angel Dust appears by Charlie’s side stabbing an accusatory finger towards him. Ah yes, Val’s favorite little whore. Almost immediately after, Vaggie is also standing before him, scowling. Vox maintains his sharp grin despite the intrusion and scoots away from Angel’s finger.

“I sincerely apologize for our previous interaction, Princess. Val, Velvette, and I have given it some thought and we were hoping to develop a mutually beneficial relationship. You see, the whole reason we even sent Pentious is because of your current sponsor-”

“Alastor?” Charlie interrupts, tilting her head.

Just the mention of his name is enough to send a volatile surge of electricity through his circuitry. Vox quickly unfurls the fist he unconsciously made and smiles.

“Yes, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot so to speak. Alastor (Vox says his name with such venom that Charlie shrinks back slightly), and I haven’t always quite seen eye-to-eye, but that’s no reason for the two of us to have any quarrel. In fact, we have a few ideas that we’d like to run by you and modernize what you’ve got here.”

Little Miss Bleeding Heart’s eyes light up, her positivity and compassion almost makes him fucking vomit, were he capable of such human vulnerabilities.

“Ohmygod, we would LOVE to have more Overlords on board with the Hazbin Hotel. Come in, come in! Let me show you around,” She beckons him in while Vaggie continues to glare at him suspiciously as he steps over the threshold, pointing her spear at him.

“One wrong move and I’m shoving this spear through your chest,” she threatens.

This is actually the first time he’s stepped foot in the building. It’s not nearly as hi-tech as his VoxTek building, probably that radio fucker’s influence. Husk flips him off from the bar in the back. A small black cat weaves between his legs, purring before settling in on a nearby couch.

Before he can comment on anything, an unmistakable shadow glides along the floor before his rival manifests in front of him. Vox’s blood pressure spikes as he stands face to face with Alastor. The radio demon is wearing his almost patented grin (the smiling freak), seemingly unperturbed by the Vox’s presence at the hotel.

“Ah, if it isn’t my so-called ‘rival.’ Trying your hand at redemption?” Alastor smirks, twirling his staff nonchalantly. Vox’s hypnotic eye swirls with momentary fury. He takes a deep breath and instead of rising to the barb, Vox flashes his own demonic fangs.

Charlie begins the tour in the foyer, showing him every minute detail. Of course, he’s not really listening at all. His attention is momentarily diverted when he feels an unusual tingling in the back of his screen. It passes just as quickly as it appeared. Not giving Vox much time to contemplate it, Charlie drags him off to another room in the hotel.

As they walk around, Princess Morning Star continues chattering excitedly about having sappy conversations in the parlor. Despite Alastor’s insistence that he has better things to do than babysit his media rival, Vox can feel him following close behind them. Not only that, but it’s becoming more clear to him that something is wrong. The fuzzy feeling is starting to become more than just a minor inconvenience. He tries to ignore the rising wave of panic in his chest. He just updated his software not too long ago.

“Soooo what did you think?” Charlie’s looking at him with puppy-dog eyes. He looks around and realizes that they’re back in the lobby. Apparently they made an entire loop of the hotel and now Charlie is expectantly awaiting a response. He opens his mouth to speak but it’s at this moment that the fuzzy feeling becomes outright unbearable. And, unfortunately for him no amount of ignoring it seems to do the trick. The buzzing sensation crests and the veneer of self-control crumbles. His screen glitches out as his body snaps forward as he is overcome by the feeling.

hh’ZZZSHH’uhh!

The hotel lights dim during Vox’s expulsion, causing the residents to glance around in confusion. As the lights flicker back on, Vox realizes that the hotel has fallen completely silent. He finds that he’s also teleported 5 feet from where he was previously standing. Everyone is staring at him, their facial expressions a mix of annoyance, bewilderment, and amusement (from Alastor, the bastard). Angel is the first to speak.

“What the fuck just happened?”

Vox mentally repeats the same question to himself. What the fuck did just happen? Did he just… sneeze? He didn’t even think it was possible, at least not in his new form.

“Seems like our little video friend is experiencing some *technical* difficulties.” Alastor chimes in, the pleasure he seems to have derived from Vox’s predicament is quite apparent. Smug piece of shit. What he wouldn’t give to punch him in his perfect teeth.

His resolve wavers as he senses another prickle at the back of his head. Sparks generate along his frame as Vox tries to fight another surge of the unwanted feeling… to no avail. Vox’s screen dims as he involuntarily sucks in a sharp breath.

hh’zZZSHh! ihh..ihh’ZZSSHhoo!

The outburst causes another surge of electricity in the hotel, as well as leading a couple of the overhead light bulbs to explode. By the time he straightens up Niffty has already sprung into action, sweeping up the shards of glass that now litter the hotel floor.

“WHATTHEFUCK,” he spits out, unable to maintain his composure despite the fact that he had an audience.

“Hmm, persistent,” Alastor muses, thoughtful tapping his slender fingers on the top of his staff. While everyone else is still processing the most recent events, Alastor surveys the damage to the hotel. As scans the lobby, his gaze falls on KeeKee. Realization dawns on him. Ohoho, this could be quite entertaining, best he keep this bit of information to himself for now.

“I– ihh… I have to go,” Vox manages to say through clenched teeth. The less he said the better his chances were if he were going to keep the feeling at bay. He prepares to teleport out, but not before the sneeze he was so desperately trying to hold back, slips out.

ih’ITZZSSHhh! Godfuckingdamnit. To save himself what little dignity Vox has left, not that there’s much remaining at this point, he departs in a flash of light.

“Talk lat-” Charlie trails off as she realizes that Vox has already electorported out of the hotel.

“Well that was quite interesting,” Alastor spins his staff around before magick-ing it out of existence. He seems to have something on the tip of his tongue, but ultimately decides to keep the thought to himself, humming nonchalantly as he walks away.

Sitting on his couch, Vox groans and flops back. Well not only did that fail miserably, Vox embarrassed himself in front of the entire Hazbin Hotel family. He sinks deeper into the couch cushions as the entire fiasco plays in his head. His rumination is interrupted by a straggling tickle.

huh’zZZCCHh!

Dragging a hand down his screen, he sniffles (really?! this just got better and better) and sighs. This was quite an unpleasant experience, one he would not like to deal with again anytime soon. Somehow he felt this was Alastor’s doing, no he knew the radio demon fuck definitely had something to do with it.

#fiendwriting #i have never had a hyperfixation this intense before #i am completely and utterly consumed

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thatdesklamp · 8 months

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'Intrinsic Warmth': Collector's Edition

Here is a masterpost of all 'Intrinsic Warmth'-related content: a small portion is stuff that I've written, probably in response to a question/ask, but the majority is content that I... haven't actually produced! This is so so self-indulgent because I love everything here like a firstborn son. Oh my goodness. I’ll put this on the ‘other’ section of my masterlist for reference, too.

me prattling on

The Influence of 'One Day' on 'Intrinsic Warmth', an essay-that-I-didn't-mean-to-be-an-essay about how 'One Day' by David Nicholls impacted IW (in more ways than just the shamelessly-stolen concept, lol)

music

'Intrinsic Warmth': The Musical, a compilation of all the songs people have related to 'Intrinsic Warmth' in my comments (I've added the full list below with extra comments + context for each song)

'intrinsic': The Fic Playlist, an actual IW playlist (!!!) made by ao3 user redromeow

writing

'Sunday September 7th, 2014', a true gem of a fanfiction of my own fanfiction (ohmygod); Satoru's perspective of the beginning of IW's Chapter 19, written by ao3 user late_night_secrets

'Intrinsic Warmth': The Musical: The Context and Comments = Comments you guys made when you recommended the songs :DD

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want / The Smiths

"So, for once in my life / Let me get what I want / Lord knows, it would be the first time" -- Hebi's yearning hours

Haunted / Taylor Swift

"Stood there and watched you walk away / From everything we had / But I still mean every word I said to you / He will try to take away my pain" -- just IW in its angst era

"Come on, come on, don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Something's gone terribly wrong / You're all I wanted / Come on, come on, don't leave me like this / I thought I had you figured out / Can't breathe whenever you're gone / Can't turn back now, I'm haunted" -- Chapter 15, 2010 (Gojo + Hebi on the roof)

Don't / eAeon ft. RM

Lyrics that are very Hebi and Gojo. I particularly like: "Please, don’t leave this place / There’s no place like this elsewhere in the world, after all / Please don’t break us / Then our one heart will be divided"

look at me / george

Lyrics that are Gojo being in his feels whenever he sees Hebi (in IW's angst era specifically)

You're on Your Own Kid / Taylor Swift

"I wait patiently, he’s gonna notice me / It’s okay, we’re the best of friends" -- Chapter 14, 2009 (the first year after they graduate) Hebi is yoyok coded. Lol.

Remember the time / Michael Jackson

It fits IW v v well (it does)

Something about us / daft punk

"I need you more than anything in my life / I want you more than anything in my life / I'll miss you more than anyone in my life / I love you more than anyone in my life" -- Chapter 12, 2007 (right after Geto left). It is them.

Good enough / xdinary heroes

A song that matches the tone of their relationship

La gent normal al Mercat de Sant Antoni / Manel

I couldn't find this on Spotify! I've put it the original 'Common People' on IW:TM, but here's a link to the actual song that I got recommended; it's Hebi and Gojo.

Last Kiss / Taylor Swift

Specifically in Chapter 16, 2011 (the one with the Kiss and Breakup). Yikes.

IF I HAVE MISSED ANY SONGS Y’ALL HAVE SENT PLS TELL ME, I TRIED TO BE THOROUGH BUT I MAY HAVE MISSED SOME

#intrinsic warmth

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crosshairscrustysock · 1 year

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Let’s get some fun recommendations goin around here! What’s a piece of clone content (art, fic, etc) that has stuck with you as being notably excellent? Tag it in your answer so we can all find some new fun to read! If you want, of course; feel free to ignore! 💕

I would love to introduce to you these excellent fics

[im very happy to spread some fun recommendations]

So for a short smutty read :

For a short fluff read :

As for longer reads:

- I am currently reading these amazing fics <3

And soon to start this one :

And thanks for coming to my Ted talk, folks ,that's all tumblr seems to allow me to put :))

Lol I hope this list is what you were hoping for lol :) I'm always happy to recommend fics <33333

(you should definitely check out these author's master lists of works- they're quite incredible )

#the bad batch #star wars #clone thirsting #star wars fanfiction #crosshair x you #hunter x reader #ask #boba fett x reader #tech smut #clone smut #tech x reader #tech x oc #tbb hunter x reader

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cheesybadgers · 7 months

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

------------------------------------------------------

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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