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transboyswitchytales · 1 day ago

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And Everybody Loves You

Agatha All Along Week!

First day is Jealousy Prompt!

Agatha x Reader x Rio

Agatha is chronically jealous! How do her girlfriends handle it?

Mention of Smut but no Smut (sowy) / Cute fluff / BELTANE (Celebration) / Billy being their son moments / Polyamory / Missing Nicky / Hickies / Jealousy of course / Cuteness / Depression mentioned / Rio should sing to Reader all the time / Snacks / Witchy fun / Coven Found Family Moments / Lilia is the absolute best and I'll fight you if you disagree / Are these even warnings anymore ?

MDNI

Happy AAA Week guys!!!

My Masterlist

Jealous.

Polyamory was something you’d experienced before. You’d dated in threes a few times in fact, centuries ago.

Agatha Harkness, a centuries-old witch, had not. And it showed.

And more importantly, Agatha had never learned how to share. I don’t just mean in a relationship. I mean that if you put your witch girlfriend in a sandbox, she’d probably bite a kid, again.

So when Rio and you, on a Saturday morning, when a sleepy Agatha was grumpy and didn’t want to get up, you went to a local bakery early.

You came back to an even grumpier agitated Agatha. Rio set her keys down in the bowl and started in on Ags.

“Oh my god, you are ridiculous. We brought you a dirty chai with pumpkin, even though you swear you hate pumpkin spice. ANNNnnnd we got you a chocolate donut detective!” Rio waved the white bag and the drink at Agatha. Who didn’t budge, but she reached for the cup.

Rio pulled it back and shook her head. Agatha’s smirk emerged, and she leaned in and kissed Rio in gratitude, and only then did Rio give your grumpy girlfriend her breakfast.

These moments happened a lot, which was silly because you all worked hard to communicate, ok, you worked hard for everyone to communicate.

But you all wanted to have equality and no one left out. You had rules and things you didn’t do without each other.

One of those things was not watching your TV shows without the other person. You’d learned this the hard way.

You and Rio had been watching Twilight Zone reruns, you were drawing and Rio was being your big spoon.

Agatha came in from the basement where she’d been working on magic. She eyed the screen before you or your girlfriend could welcome her back into the land of the living. From being in the basement for hours. But Agatha turned hurt cold in her whole being.

“You're watching TV without me?”

“They’re from 1959, Ags, these episodes are all reruns.” Rio teased, which wasn’t the right thing in that moment because Agatha’s lips pursed, and she glared at Death.

“I was a little busy in the 50s! I missed them. You are watching TV without me! That’s against the rules!” Agatha would never like to be considered a person who whined, but that was exactly what was happening.

“What? No way! This isn’t one of ‘our shows.’” Rio threw back, and that started the argument for an hour.

You realized in that moment it wasn’t a matter of what show it was, it was being left out.

Agatha was chronically jealous.

The TV was no longer something you and Rio did without Agatha. Which was hilarious because Agatha didn’t even want the TV in your home. And now she owned it, like a kid who licks a cupcake to own it. No one else could touch it.

You could name a million times these tense times came into view.

Agatha was a control freak, and Rio and you just kinda understood that it wasn’t actually about Twilight Zone or baked goods. Agatha hadn’t been wanted by her own mother.

And she forgot sometimes that you and Rio wanted her more than anything.

So you and Rio would wordlessly communicate through the space and make little changes to keep Agatha’s safety.

You were hunched over in the backyard picking vegetables from the garden you and Rio tended to. The sound of the sprinklers in the neighbor's yard and crickets starting up before the sun even set.

That’s when you felt the depression bug creep in. You pushed it down.

You pushed it down as you three made a large dinner. Working hard to fake it until your mind would catch up to the new idea. You got a few long glances from Agatha and Rio but you worked hard.

Two days had passed and Rio had to work, so you and Agatha were going on a walk.

You were doing ok, not great, but ok.

And then you saw a kid who looked like Nicky. Your heart dropped.

You calmly asked Aggie if you two could go home. Your girlfriend wasn’t stupid. But she laced your fingers together and walked you home.

You took off your outside clothes and dove into the bed. And you stayed there for the rest of the day, and the night, and the next morning, and that afternoon.

Agatha brought food and endless mugs of tea. She held you, and kissed your head. She tried to get you out of bed. But you were glued, you didn’t want to worry, Agatha.

But you just couldn’t try anymore.

You didn’t have the fight.

The black dog had won, and you were letting it feast on your bone marrow.

Around 3pm, you heard the door open again, Agatha hadn’t really left your side except to maek you tea. But she’d gone downstairs an hour ago and not returned.

And when the sound came from teh floorboard you hated yourself for her worry. And you tried to pretend you were sleeping, knowing it would never work. But the bed dipped, and you flinched. You didn’t want to keep feeling this way and you didn’t want the unending shame for the look on Agatha’s face.

But you felt another set of hands. One you’d known for a long time too.

“My love, my sweet carino, it’s one of those days, huh?” Rio says, and you flip over and grab her shoulders. Rio lies down with you. And you cry from deep inside, and Rio doesn’t shy away, doesn’t tell you that Nicky is gone. Doesn’t remind you how long it’s been since he died. She just holds your body, like it’s sacred.

When you finally stop sobbing, you pull back to look at her eyes.

“You got here fast. Did Agatha tell you to come home?”

“I was in Mississippi, a guy got eaten by a tractor, blood everywhere. He kinda looked like a tube of toothpaste splattering.” Rio tells you, and you laugh at her dark humor. You put your face into her neck, and she rocked you.

Rio whispered a song to you, one she’d sing to you when she dropped her work to come home. You’d played it one day, and Rio had told you it’s how she felt when she knew you or Agatha needed her.

She’d drop her work and get to you two as fast as she could. So when she sang it, your heart broke in two.

‘Cutting through the country, on my way to you

Runnin' out of Reds, comin' up with truths

I'm cutting through a cornfield, talkin' to myself

Hookin' up with strangers, askin' them for help

You reveled in Rio’s voice and her tender touch, and your body relaxed for the first time. Since you’d been on your walk.

Waitin' for forever, waitin' for your call

I know it sounds crazy, we could have it all

If you needed someone, if you needed proof

I'm cutting through the country, I'm on my way to you

You bit your lip, and Rio kept singing to you. Knowing that you needed to hear it, needed to hear her. Need her.

I'm cutting through the country, listenin' for you

Someone I could trust, wishin' it was us

Yeah, nothin' lasts forever and everybody dies

I don't wanna leave, unless it's here with you tonight

And I'm pullin' from a bottle, flippin' on my phone

Lookin' for a life, lookin' for a home

Cutting through the country, call me when you're up

Nothin' lasts forever, but I'm not in a rush

Every day's a movie and I've already seen

I'm cutting through the country, I might fall asleep

Wake up in a cartoon, fallin' through the earth

Give me somethin' real, babe, and nobody gets hurt’

She stopped when you turned to look at her once more.

“Agatha really called you, huh?”

It felt strange because Agatha was so good at soothing your frustration. But Nicky was a hard thing for any of you to talk about. You wondered what drove her to ask Rio for help. Because she couldn’t mourn with you? No, Agatha had mourned with you plenty.

“Ags may be chronically jealous. But she loves you more than anything, Sweets. She’d give up her powers forever if it meant you didn’t feel another moment of pain. She knew you needed me, too. She can’t always communicate the right thing, hell I fucking can’t either. But you are so important to us. So I’ll always drop everything, and Agatha will break her pride and call me.”

Rio told you, and your bottom lip wobbled, and Rio’s face softened even further as she hugged you back to her chest.

You got out of bed that night and ate dinner at the table with your girlfriends. You sat on Agatha’s lap as Rio picked a scary movie. Agatha’s hands held you tightly, and you knew she wanted to say a million things. But her hands worked against your skin and you didn’t need her to speak a word.

It was quickly Beltane, time the only thing that was constantly passing.

And you were loving going to this huge witches' gathering. You knew the coven was too, but Billy had never been to a Beltane celebration.

So you pulled him into little witches' booths and bought him cobbler and new rings. Explaining the fruit in it was important for Beltane and the whys. Lilia was running a tarot booth, and you’d brought her iced tea and poppy lemon cake. She’d kissed you and given you a big hug. Wishing you a happy, fruitful Beltane.

Rio and Agatha held hands and walked behind you as you gushed over the history of Beltane to Billy. Who was just as bubbly, he’d bloomed this year into a more confident witch. Agatha told you it was because of you, but you didn’t take the compliment at all.

But Billy had sort of adopted you three as his parents now.

And you tried not to cry every time he asked to stay the night, or called you when he was upset. He’d ask you questions about how to have a healthy relationship, he loved Eddie. You talked for him for hours.

But he also adored Agatha for all her faults and sharp edges. Sometimes he’d come over and sit with Agatha and they talked into the wee hours of the morning. She taught him more magic, and he was respectful and eager to please her. Agatha always tried to hide her pride but you saw it.

You also saw how Rio warmed to your favorite teen.

It started small, she’d noticed he loved tomatoes. She had some in the garden, no big deal. But when you walked into the yard one day and noticed five new tomato varieties being planted, you knew Rio loved him.

Slowly, Billy stopped being afraid of Rio too. Instead, he learned from Eddie how to make his Nonna’s family traditional tomato sauce. And he jarred it and brought it back to Rio. Who had never received a gift from a child before. She’d been worshiped by deities and you and Agatha had bought her thoughtful things over the years that she cherished and kept.

But a child had never looked at her without fear, except one. And now here was Billy, looking at her with big eyes and dark curls. And she swore to protect him in that moment.

And he kept bringing her things. A comic book with a lesbian in it, a button that had a skull on it, a bunch of taco’s from a taco truck he followed online. And in turn, Rio started to talk to him more and more. It was a gorgeous thing to see.

You grabbed Billy’s hand in the sunshine and guided him into the next book. Jen wasn’t working it, but it was her company. You eyed the candles, and you and Billy sniffed each one and decided which one was the best.

You looked over your shoulder to see Rio calmly talking to Agatha. Who was anxious, you eyed them, but knew that Rio could handle whatever had upset your girlfriend.

The sun dipped down quickly, and you’d all eaten so much good food. The maypoles were being put away, and the bonfire was being built. Children were blowing bubbles and they floated like fairies in the sky.

“So do we have to be naked?” Billy whispered to you, and you laughed at him and his blush. You were sitting on a log together as Rio and Agatha found some fun alcoholic floral drink that was being served in celebration. Nothing like drunk witches before a bonfire. Witches were throwing logs on the fire, and you two watche,d waiting for the rest of your coven to come join you.

Jen and Alice were probably fucking in their car. But Lilia had gone in search of a ‘gift’, and you weren’t sure who it was for.

“No, honey, we don’t have to be naked. We’re just here to celebrate. Witches aren’t here to judge each other, they’re here to give tribute to new beginnings. Beltane is to ask for new things, but to celebrate the coming of spring and a fruitful land. We are here to give back.” You explain to him, and Billy drops his head against your shoulder. He’d become way cuddlier in the last few months. And your heart ached for him. Wanda would be so proud.

“Who are you going to give tidings to?” He asked, and it reminded you so much of Nicky and his first Beltane. You let yourself feel the overwhelming love for both of your boys.

“Well, I always start with my sweet girl, Death. But Flora naturally and I never forget, no matter what time of year, to give a gift to Hecate. What about you?” You ask him, and his eyebrows scrunch, and he thinks hard before responding.

“Belenus,” Billy said, the Celtic god, and you loved that he had such knowledge now.

“That’s a great choice.” You tell him, and you hear Agatha and Rio before you see them. Rio plops down next to Billy, and Agatha sits next to you. Her hand goes to your thigh, and it’s a claiming touch.

Rio reached across the teenager to hand you a pretty purple drink. You took it, thanking her and taking a sip. It was good very sweet and strong, and you made an appreciative noise. Agatha kept on hand on you as she sipped her own a little faster than you were.

“Can I have one?” Billy eyed how Rio was double fisting two drinks.

“Absolutely, when you are twenty-one, I’ll take you out and buy you shots. Until then, you can drink water or the kids made lemonade.” Rio answered like the Dad, and you felt warmth at the domesticity of it all. You and Agatha didn’t even step in, Rio ha,d and it was adorable.

“Not even a sip?” Billy tried again.

“Pet, if you keep this up you won’t get the strawberry funnel cake,” Agatha warned him, and she sounded so much like a mom. And Billy didn’t fight it anymore, but you saw him experiencing the love in her words. Someone to watch out for him, to tell him no. It was a beautiful thing.

Alice yelled across the way to Billy she had two strawberry soft-serve ice creams in waffle cones. Billy hopped up out of the seat and ran over to her. She handed him one and then affectionately brushed his hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut from Jen soon.

You all loved him.

Agatha’s nails dug into your thigh a little, and Rio scooted to close the distance between you two. Both girlfriends sandwiching you in the middle. Much like they did every night in bed.

“Aggie, what’s wrong, baby?” You asked and took a sip of the strong drink.

Agatha’s face fell into your neck, and she stayed there, inhaling you. Agatha wasn’t worried about people seeing you two cuddle. You were life long partners.

“Someone’s a little touch starved for you, you’ve been paying a lot of attention to the coven today. And I think our witch is feeling a little needy.” Rio whispered so other witches walking by wouldn’t hear. A few stopped to look at you three, obviously aware of your reputation. No one knew who Rio was, which was always annoying and hilarious.

But you and Aggie, were witch killers. And after all this time you still got dirty looks and snide remarks. But Agatha hadn’t told you no on coming to this event. Knowing you loved to celebrate the old holidays.

But her hands ached for your body.

Setting your drink down between your barefeet. You ran a hand through Agatha’s dark locks and kept her in your neck.

“Do you wanna follow Jen and Alice example and go fuck in the car?” You asked, and Agatha snorted in your neck. Rio’s eyebrows raised in intrigue, and she hoped Aggie was about to say yes.

Nicky had been conceived on Ostara, you’d not carved runes. You’d said no spell and no incantation. He’d been born from love. Having your nose and optimistic attitude, Rio’s dimple and mischievous nature, and Agatha’s brilliance and her ability to love deeply.

Nicky was perfect. The best of all three of you.

You were a little nervous to fuck on a holiday, especially one for fertility. But if Agatha needed you, you’d never deny her. Agatha’s nose brushed against the sensitive spot on your neck, and you shivered.

“You don’t want to leave Billy for too long,” Agatha answered, and you knew that wasn’t what she wanted to say. There was a whole coven here for him.

“If my witch needs my fingers, you only need to accept my invitation.” You tell her, and Agatha takes a minute before nodding. You three stand, grabbing your drinks, you excuse yourself.

It takes about two hours, not what you’d planned but your body is thoroughly fucked. Agatha steps out of the car first and she uses a pencil to put her hair up. Big love bites clearly scattered over her neck and chest. You weren’t much better; you had more bites, and they were already dark purple.

Rio wiped her mouth on the back of her hand to get all the evidence off. She reached into the back of the car, grabbing four sweaters and handing you and Agatha each other’s clothes. You wore Aggies deep purple sweater, and she wore your dark maroon cable knit. Rio pulled it over her baggy dark fern colored sweater on. It had frayed over the years and bits of yarn stuck out. She looked gorgeous. They both did.

You all walked back into the cool night air. It had gotten dark while you were….busy in the car.

When you came back to the outdoor venue, you saw Alice and Lilia holding Billy as Jen worked with the kid's corner to make sure that baby witches were grounded during all this energy play.

Rio put a hand on Billy and he turned and grinned at her in greeting. She thoughtfully handed him one of her baggy sweaters, it was a dark blue and it had a few white sigils for warming in it. You loved that sweater so much, there was something so parental about Rio keeping the teenager safe and warm.

Walking up to your fortune witch and grabbing Lilia’s shoulders, she turned to you and kissed your cheek affectionately.

“Wondered when you three would finish.” She teased and then bent down and took out a flower crown from her bag of goodies. She placed it onto your head, and you had to bend down because she was so short. But she curled your hair behind your ear and then beamed at you. Lifting your chin up so she could look at you.

“You are one beautiful witch, doll.” Lilia complimented you and you felt it warm your body.

“Lilia-”

“Hush, you look fantastic. The giant bruises on your neck look like you’ve been fighting a vampire. But besides that, you are…gorgeous inside and out.” Lilia grabbed both your forearms and leaned in like she was telling you a secret passed down for centuries.

“Thank you.” You whispered back and turned to see Agatha and Rio beaming at you.

The flowers in your crown were a mixture of Nicky's favorite wildflower to pick in the forest, Agatha’s secret ingredient in her perfume orchids, and Rio’s water hemlock, a poisonous plant that she planted in every home you’d ever lived. And your favorite big Alaskan daisies that’s stems weave through each flower.

Lilia was good.

Your girlfriends both came over and kissed each of your flushed cheeks.

You all sat as the celebration began, and people danced in all ways around the fire and chanted. It was gorgeous, and a glow illuminated off their bodies. Lilia and Alice were explaining what was happening to Billy.

You weren’t watching the witches now, your eyes were up at the full moon. You were watching as the magic of all these witches did what it did in Old Salem. They were ‘drawing down the moon.’ So it looked bigger and bigger, like La Luna wanted to dance with the witches herself.

Agatha was watching you and one of her hands brushed your hair to the side, and she held the back of your neck and you closed your eyes at the sensation of her fingers. She was leaning in to kiss you or whisper something and someone cut your moment short.

“Hey! You are fucking gorgeous wanna come dance naked with me?” This witch asked you, and she was very beautiful. Her red hair was wild, and little braids were in between her thick locks; they had baby’s breath in their strands and feathers. She was already naked, and the curtains did match the drapes. Her large rune tattoos framed her muscular arms.

“She’s fucking taken, go find a loose witch that’ll lift her dress for you silly hag.” Agatha snapped and snarled like an animal, and the poor witch froze for a minute in fear. Before making a great imitation of Thumper and running like a rabbit back into the night.

Before you could say anything, the coven erupted into laughter.

“She had no idea she’d just hit on Agatha Harkness, woman!” Alice cackled out as Billy grabbed his sides, and Lilia’s laughter made people turn and stare. Rio’s hand fell over her mouth as she found it hilarious as well.

“I don’t see the humor in this!” Agatha chastised her coven which was erupting at the seams. Perhaps it was all the energy in the air, the magic, you told yourself. But Agatha glared at them and you moved further into her embrace kissed her long and slow.

“I like you jealous. I’m yours, though. I didn’t wanna dance with her, I only want to dance with you and Rio.” You tell her, and Agatha softens like butter under your words and gentle touch on her body.

It’s dawn by the time it all ends, and you are sobered up enough to drive your girlfriends home. You offer to take Billy, but he’s asleep on Jen’s lap, and she shakes her head. Alice and Jen take him back to their house to sleep off all of that magic high. Lilia steals his phone and hands it to Alice, not able to really work technology well. She texts his mom to let him know the change of plans.

Rio guides your body in your mutual tired state.

“Coffee first?” She asks, wondering if you wanna make a stop.

“Home.” You say eyeing an exhausted Agatha who climbs into the back seat and lies across the leather. She doesn’t put her seatbelt on, which is terribl,e but you and Rio can’t find it in you to wake her and make her do it.

You drive home slowly and carefully. You get into the house and rest your flower crown on the kitchen table. The three of you move into the bedroom, shed your clothes, and climb in to cuddle.

You wake hours later, and it’s deep in the afternoon, and you yawn. Agatha kissed your forehead and you smiled.

“Wanna take a bath with me?”

“Yes, please,” it sounds like an amazing time. The smell of campfire and ash sliding off your body. Agatha did her amazing talent of making a bath smell sinful and look like a scene in Game of Thrones. You both slid in and Agatha was happy to press your back against her bare chest as she used a hand towel to scrub your arms. You closed your eyes, still sleepy after your nap.

Aggie talked to you softly in the space about her first Beltane with you. One where you’d stolen her heart and she teased you about never giving it back.

“It’s mine.” You told her and she kissed behind your ear.

“In this life and the next.” Agatha promised.

You were both feeling a contact high between your naked bodies pressed together and the intoxicating scents in the tub. The undtertone of sexual tension was dilicious. Turning slightly you angled yourself so that Agatha could kiss your lips in a slow dance.

You were both rudely interrupted as Rio walked in.

“HEY! I didn’t get invited to bath time!”

Yeah, Agatha was jealous. But you might have forgotten to mention so was Rio.

Rio was very jealous. A lot.

Death was huffing at you both irritated at not getting her bubble bath moment too.

“Rio the tub is not big enough for three! And you took a shower-” Agatha tried to reason with her toddler of a girlfriend who folded her arms and glared at you both.

“WE HAVE POWERS! MAKE A BIGGER TUB! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!” Rio started to shout and you just smiled.

Jealousy was woven into your life yes, but the love was behind every inch as well.

Agatha took the wet washcloth and threw it at Rio’s face who started to take off her clothes and Agatha shouted at her. She had one foot in the tub and Agatha was trying to push her out. Soap and tub water splashed over the side and all over the bathroom floor.

“IT’S TOO SMALL OF A TUB!”

“MOVE OVER!”

“YOU ARE ALL SWEATY!”

“YEAH WELL I’M GONNA GET CLEAN AREN’T I!”

#fanfiction #fanfic #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #agatha all along #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x reader #marvel fanfiction #agatha all along week #Jealousy prompt #audrey plaza #rio x agatha x reader #fluff #Spotify #@agathaallalongweek

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ilovemarvel97 · 1 day ago

Note

Elizabeh Olsen x Chef reader pleasee!! Happy ending as well, I love your ficss!!

Home-Cooked Love

Elizabeth Olsen x Chef Reader

Summary: Lizzie attends a talk show to talk about her new movie and end up talking about her fiancé.

Word Count: 6,908

Request: Yes

Warnings: Fluff, mention of smut

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you'll like this.

Main Masterlist

---

There was a warmth in the apartment that had nothing to do with the simmering pot of soup on the stove or the tea steeping by the window. It was in the worn-out hoodie draped over the back of the couch, in the handwritten note stuck to the fridge that read “Love you, don’t burn the risotto <3”, and in the soft hum of music that played from the record player in the living room.

Elizabeth Olsen leaned back on the bar stool in their open-concept kitchen and smiled down at the photo in her phone. It was an old one — Y/N grinning through a flour-covered face, holding a nearly collapsing birthday cake that had obviously been rescued from disaster at the last second.

That was one of the first photos Lizzie ever took of her. Before the awards. Before the headlines. Before they’d moved in together.

She tapped the screen fondly, then locked the phone and stood to stir the soup on the stove. She was making chicken and dumplings — Y/N’s favorite comfort food when she’d had a long day at the restaurant. It was never fancy, and Lizzie knew it wouldn’t pass Y/N’s fine-dining standards, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Y/N would come home, tired and maybe smelling faintly of truffle oil, and her shoulders would drop the moment she walked into their kitchen.

Because Lizzie cooked this. For her.

And that, Y/N always said, made it perfect.

---

They met at an industry charity dinner three years earlier, hosted at a private garden in Los Angeles that was so polished it felt fake. Everything was curated — from the bespoke cocktails to the floral arrangements. It was the kind of place Lizzie was used to smiling through while secretly calculating her exit strategy.

She wasn’t expecting the chef behind the five-course meal to walk out from the kitchen at the end of the night, apron still tied, cheeks flushed from heat and stress — and be the most magnetic person in the room.

Y/N had smiled shyly as she greeted the table of celebrities, pausing at Lizzie’s seat with a quick, “I hope you liked the dessert. It’s not on the menu anywhere.”

Lizzie, intrigued, replied, “Why not?”

And Y/N shrugged. “Too personal. I only make it for people I want to see smile.”

That answer alone earned her Lizzie’s number.

---

Present Day – Studio Lot, Los Angeles

The lights on set warmed Lizzie’s skin as she settled onto the plush red chair beside the talk show host. She crossed her legs, tucked her hair behind her ear, and offered the audience a glowing smile.

The host, a tall man with a gleaming grin and a stack of blue cue cards, leaned in with familiarity.

“Elizabeth Olsen,” he said grandly, “star of the new psychological thriller premiering next Friday. Welcome back.”

“Thank you for having me,” Lizzie replied smoothly.

They bantered about the film for a few minutes — camera angles, intense scenes, the ethics of method acting — before the host’s expression shifted into something more playful.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s talk about something much juicier. Your love life.”

Laughter and a few whistles echoed through the audience. Lizzie only grinned.

“I heard you’re engaged to a certain culinary icon?” the host prompted.

“Guilty,” Lizzie said, holding up her left hand to show off the delicate engagement ring with its vintage band and subtle sparkle. “She’s very private, so I won’t embarrass her too much, but yes — I’m engaged to Y/N, the chef of Maison Lumière.”

The audience applauded. A few whoops from the back row.

The host fanned himself dramatically. “I mean, she’s incredible. Two Michelin stars. You know I tried getting a reservation at her place for six months?”

Lizzie laughed. “I could’ve gotten you in. But only if you like black garlic and three-hour meals.”

“Now here’s the twist,” he said, eyes gleaming, “I’ve been told — and I need you to confirm this — that you’re actually the one who does most of the cooking at home?”

She burst into laughter. “I am!”

Gasps. Chuckles. The host leaned forward, scandalized. “No way.”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling fondly. “Y/N cooks professionally almost every day — sometimes for twelve or thirteen hours straight. By the time she’s home, the last thing she wants to do is prep, cook, and plate again. So, most nights, I’m the one making dinner.”

“But she’s a chef!”

“She’s still a person,” Lizzie said gently, her eyes twinkling. “And honestly? I love cooking. It relaxes me.”

“Do you do all the meals?”

“She still cooks sometimes,” Lizzie added quickly. “Especially breakfast. She has this thing about making sure I don’t leave the house without something warm in me. And desserts — she loves making desserts for me.”

“Oh yeah?” the host asked, intrigued.

“There’s one she makes all the time,” Lizzie said, her tone softening. “It’s this vanilla custard tart with caramelized pears and almond crust. But here’s the kicker — she’s never once put it on the menu at her restaurant.”

“Why not?”

“She says it’s mine,” Lizzie said, smiling down at her lap for a second. “She calls it my ‘happiness pie.’ Says it wouldn’t taste right made for anyone else.”

The audience let out a synchronized “aww,” and the host clutched his chest.

“Okay, now that’s romance.”

Lizzie shrugged modestly, but the glow on her face gave her away.

“I got lucky,” she said simply. “She’s my favorite person in the world.”

---

By the time Lizzie got home from the studio, the sky had darkened to a cool indigo, streaked with faint peach at the horizon. Her heels clicked softly along the stone path that led to their front door, and as she stepped inside, she was greeted not by silence, but by the gentle sound of music floating in from the kitchen.

Billie Holiday. Y/N always played Billie when she was in a certain kind of mood — contemplative, romantic, just a little bit playful. And the moment Lizzie smelled sugar and pears wafting from the kitchen, she grinned.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lizzie called, slipping off her coat and setting her bag on the entry bench. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.

Y/N was bent over the counter, torch in hand, adding a final touch of caramelization to a beautifully set custard tart. She was in her usual post-work ensemble: joggers, an old tee shirt, and a navy blue hoodie that had seen better days. Her hair was pulled back, slightly messy. She looked peaceful. At home.

“Watched the show, did you?” Lizzie teased, arms crossing as she smirked.

Y/N turned slowly, her mouth already tugging into a smile. “I did. You were radiant. Funny. Smart. Incriminated me entirely.”

Lizzie stepped closer, standing between Y/N’s legs as she leaned back against the counter.

“Everything I said was true.”

Y/N gave her a skeptical look. “You said I never cook at home. I cook all the time.”

“Oh, sure. Just not dinner.”

“Dinner is overrated.”

Lizzie laughed, arms slipping around her waist. “You’re lucky I like cooking.”

“I’m luckier that you like feeding me,” Y/N replied, nuzzling her nose along Lizzie’s cheek.

They kissed — slow and sweet, the kind that lingered. Lizzie rested her forehead against Y/N’s for a moment before asking, “So what inspired the tart tonight?”

Y/N tilted her head. “You told the world about it. Thought I might as well make it live up to the legend.”

Lizzie’s chest swelled, her fingers brushing against the hem of Y/N’s hoodie. “It does. It always does.”

They moved to the couch with slices of the tart and steaming mugs of herbal tea. A blanket was thrown over their laps, and Lizzie tucked herself against Y/N’s side, her feet up, her hair damp from a quick shower. The room was dim, the only light coming from a few lamps and the occasional flicker from a candle on the coffee table.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence — the kind that only came from deep love and years of understanding. Lizzie occasionally hummed in appreciation with each bite, and Y/N stole glances at her with a full heart.

“You ever going to put this on the menu?” Lizzie asked, licking a bit of custard from her fork.

Y/N shook her head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t taste the same made for anyone else,” she said softly, repeating the words from the show. “It’s yours.”

Lizzie felt her throat tighten. She glanced over at her fiancée and saw the genuine warmth in her expression, the way her eyes always softened when they looked at her.

“I hope you never get tired of me saying this,” Lizzie whispered, “but I really, really love you.”

Y/N leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Never. Because I really, really love you too.” Y/N whisper against her lips before kissing her tenderly.

---

A few days later, they had dinner guests. Just friends from Lizzie’s work — Chris, Scarlett, Jeremy, RDJ, and a couple others from the industry who knew better than to expect anything too formal. Lizzie had made mushroom risotto, her specialty, and Y/N had insisted on doing the salad and dessert.

By the end of the night, everyone was stuffed and lounging around the fireplace, glasses of wine half full, laughter echoing through the space.

RDJ gestured with his fork. “I just want to point out that this was hands-down one of the best meals I’ve had in months. And that’s saying something, because I’ve been to your restaurant twice this year.”

Y/N grinned. “All credit to the chef.” She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Lizzie’s.

Lizzie smirked. “See? She only takes over for dessert.”

“What is this tart again?” Scarlett asked, scraping the last bit from her plate.

Y/N hesitated. Lizzie looked at her.

“Oh no,” Chris said suddenly, catching the look. “Wait — is this the happiness pie?”

Laughter broke out around the room.

“You told him?” Y/N turned to Lizzie in mock betrayal.

“She was on national television,” Chris pointed out. “It’s public knowledge now.”

Y/N sighed, then smiled sheepishly. “Fine. Yes, it’s the happiness pie. But this version was just a cousin of the real one. The Lizzie version has a slightly different crust.”

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. “You’re admitting there’s a secret version?”

“Only for you,” Y/N said with a wink.

Later that night, after everyone had left and the kitchen was quiet again, Lizzie wrapped her arms around Y/N from behind as she wiped down the counter.

“Tonight was nice,” Lizzie murmured against her back.

“It was. You crushed the risotto.”

“And you admitted in public that there’s a secret version of the happiness pie.”

Y/N chuckled. “Caught red-handed.”

Lizzie squeezed her waist. “Can I have some tomorrow?”

Y/N turned in her arms, arms circling her shoulders. “You can have it whenever you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

They kissed again — soft, slow, familiar. The kind of kiss that felt like home.

---

It was a slow Sunday morning, the kind where time felt stretchable — no obligations, no alarms, just the early sunlight spilling across their wooden floors and the soft rhythm of rain tapping at the windows. Lizzie was curled up on the armchair by the window, her legs tucked under a thick sweater, a novel open on her lap, and a half-full mug of coffee cradled in her hands.

Y/N had been quiet all morning. Not distant — just focused. She’d kissed Lizzie’s temple when she woke, murmured something about “needing the kitchen for a few hours,” and disappeared behind the swinging doors, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Lizzie didn’t ask. She loved watching her fiancée create. She’d often compare Y/N’s process to her own acting preparation: deliberate, instinctive, rooted in love. So she gave her the space — and stole glances through the glass panels every so often, smiling as she caught her stirring, whisking, tasting.

Just before noon, Y/N reappeared, a slight flush to her cheeks and a nervous energy in her step. In her hands, she carried a delicate white porcelain plate with a small, sculpted dessert at its center.

Lizzie looked up, startled, as Y/N set it gently on the coffee table and knelt beside her.

“Don’t say anything yet,” Y/N said quickly, brushing flour from her cheek. “Just… try it.”

Lizzie arched a brow, amused and intrigued. She leaned forward, setting her book aside and studying the dessert. It looked like something out of a five-star patisserie: a pale, glossy dome atop a thin layer of shortbread crust, topped with a crystallized edible flower. A fragrant citrus-honey aroma lifted to meet her.

She took the offered fork, pierced the delicate shell, and brought a small bite to her lips.

Immediately, her eyes fluttered shut.

The dome melted in her mouth like silk — layers of lavender cream, Meyer lemon curd, and a hint of vanilla that bloomed slowly across her tongue. The crust was buttery and just the right kind of salty, anchoring the sweetness with a quiet strength. It tasted like comfort. Like spring. Like love wrapped in sunshine.

When she opened her eyes, Y/N was watching her — nervously.

“I… don’t have a name for it yet,” she said. “I was playing with textures, and I thought about what you always say you love — lemon, lavender, not too sweet. It’s not the happiness pie, but it’s something new. Something…”

“Holy shit,” Lizzie whispered. “This is incredible.”

Y/N blinked, surprised.

“It tastes like…” Lizzie paused, searching. “Like the first time you told me you loved me. Remember that trip to Big Sur? That morning we woke up before sunrise and hiked out to that cliff?”

Y/N nodded, slowly smiling.

“That morning, everything was still,” Lizzie continued. “Just golden fog and sea air and your arms around me. This tastes like that morning felt.”

Y/N exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Something gentle. Quiet. Yours.”

Lizzie laughed softly, the emotion catching in her throat. “You made me a memory.”

Y/N leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I made you a love letter. Just one you can eat.”

Lizzie kissed her again, deeper this time. She pulled Y/N up onto the chair with her, curling together under the blanket, the plate of dessert now forgotten on the table.

“What are you going to call it?” she murmured against Y/N’s collarbone.

“I was thinking…” Y/N hesitated, then smiled. “Sunrise.”

Lizzie beamed, tilting her head. “That’s perfect.”

“No one else will ever taste it,” Y/N added, resting her forehead against Lizzie’s. “Just you.”

Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You spoil me.”

“You deserve it,” Y/N replied simply.

They sat like that for a long while — tangled limbs, soft laughter, the rain pattering in the background, and the lingering taste of lemon and lavender still on Lizzie’s tongue. It was, in every sense, a love story written not with words, but with flavor. With care. With home.

---

The soft hum of anticipation filled the restaurant as evening settled in. Y/N’s flagship location — Maison Lumière — was alive with warm candlelight, glinting crystal, and the low, elegant murmur of guests awaiting something special. It was the launch night of her new seasonal tasting menu — the culmination of three months of work, testing, late-night scribbles in her leather-bound food journal, and more than a few flour-dusted breakdowns in the kitchen.

But tonight, it was perfect.

Y/N moved like music behind the scenes — coordinating, tasting, adjusting plating with the precision of a concert conductor. Her sous-chef barked timing cues, the pastry chef hovered nervously nearby, and yet through it all, Y/N had only one thing on her mind:

Is Lizzie here yet?

She had made sure a table was reserved in the coziest corner — a candlelit two-top next to the window, tucked away from the public eye but still near the open view of the kitchen. A single stargazer lily rested in a small glass vase, her fiancée’s favorite. She’d spent nearly ten minutes personally adjusting the table setting, to the great amusement of her staff.

“She’s gonna marry you anyway,” her line cook teased.

Y/N grinned. “Yeah, and I’m still gonna treat her like a queen.”

And right on cue, the front-of-house manager whispered in her earpiece: “She’s here.”

Y/N didn’t even look up from the duck confit she was plating. “Send her to Table Four.”

From behind the pass, she peeked toward the dining room just in time to see Lizzie arrive — her deep green dress skimming the floor, her hair pulled into a loose bun, lips painted the soft plum color Y/N loved most. She looked like something out of a dream.

Y/N paused, heart thudding. No matter how many red carpets they’d walked, no matter how many mornings they woke up tangled in the same bed, Lizzie always had the power to make her breath catch.

She finished her plating, gave instructions for the next course, and grabbed a small envelope from her pocket. When the server approached Lizzie with the first course — a delicate amuse-bouche of smoked fig and whipped chèvre — the envelope was placed beside it.

Inside, a handwritten note:

To my favorite taste-tester,

Thanks for believing in every version of me.

Tonight’s menu is for the world.

But dessert — that’s just for you.

Love,

Your Chef

Lizzie smiled to herself, tucking the note into her purse, her eyes gleaming.

Halfway through the meal, while staff buzzed around her in organized chaos, Y/N stole a moment. She slipped out of the kitchen and crossed the dining floor, drawing subtle glances from guests who recognized her — the chef herself. But she only had eyes for one woman.

“Enjoying yourself?” Y/N murmured as she reached Lizzie’s table.

Lizzie beamed. “It’s stunning. The halibut? Ridiculous. I wanted to stand up and applaud.”

Y/N chuckled, brushing a hand down her arm. “You look incredible.”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Correction,” Y/N said. “I haven’t. But I’m running on espresso and love.”

Lizzie reached for her hand. “You’re killing it.”

“I made you something,” Y/N added, a spark in her eyes. “Special dessert. It's not on the menu.”

Lizzie arched a brow. “Another one?”

“New menu. New memory.”

Y/N disappeared back into the kitchen, and minutes later, her pastry chef brought it out: a deconstructed cherry almond tart — toasted almond cream layered with vanilla semifreddo, tart cherry reduction, and a honey tuile shaped like a crown.

Beneath it, written in chocolate on the plate: My Queen.

Lizzie blinked hard, overwhelmed.

The moment she took a bite, she melted — the balance of sweet and tang, the way the cherry’s brightness cut through the velvet of cream. But more than the flavor was the sentiment: every note of love Y/N had embedded in the dish. Lizzie moaned softly, savoring it with slow, appreciative bites, glancing now and then toward the kitchen like she could pull Y/N back with just her gaze.

Nearby, a couple at another table caught sight of the dessert and called their waitress over.

“What is that?” the woman asked, gesturing toward Lizzie’s plate. “We didn’t see that on the menu.”

The server gave an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. That’s not part of tonight’s offerings — it was a custom dessert made by the chef for her fiancée.”

The couple glanced at each other, intrigued. “Could we maybe speak to the chef?”

The server relayed the request, and a few minutes later, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, cheeks pink from the heat — and maybe a little embarrassment.

“Good evening,” she said warmly, approaching the table. “I heard you had a question about the dessert?”

“Yes, it looked divine,” the woman said. “We were hoping to try it.”

Y/N gave a sheepish smile. “I’m truly flattered, but that dessert isn’t on the menu. It’s something I created just for my fiancée.” She gestured toward Lizzie with a small, adoring glance. “It’s… hers.”

The couple chuckled, nodding in understanding. “That’s incredibly romantic,” the man said.

“It’s the least she deserves,” Y/N replied softly, then excused herself.

Back at her table, Lizzie was smirking, a little touched, a little teasing. “You sure know how to make a girl feel spoiled.”

Y/N leaned down, her voice low against her ear. “I like when the whole room knows who you belong to.”

Later, when the kitchen had finally quieted and only few guests were left, Y/N found her curled up on the small sofa in the back office, her heels kicked off, one arm draped across her stomach.

“You waited.”

“Of course I did.” Lizzie smiled, pulling her close as Y/N sat beside her. “You fed the whole city. Let me take care of you now.”

Y/N dropped her head to Lizzie’s lap with a tired sigh. “I don’t think I’ve sat down in ten hours.”

Lizzie brushed her fingers through Y/N’s hair, nails grazing her scalp. “Was it okay? Me eating that in front of the guests? I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

Y/N turned her head to kiss the inside of her thigh through the silk of her dress. “You didn’t cause a scene. You reminded me why I do this.”

Lizzie’s fingers tightened in her hair. “God, I love when you say things like that.”

Y/N looked up, smirking. “Yeah?”

Lizzie’s voice dropped to a whisper, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. And I’m going to reward you for it later. I have a little surprise back home.”

Y/N raised a brow.

“You’ll see,” Lizzie murmured, brushing her lips across Y/N’s ear. “Let’s just say... I like when you’re too tired to think — and still completely mine.”

Y/N let out a soft groan, utterly consumed.

Y/N nuzzled her face deeper into Lizzie’s thigh, teeth just grazing the silk, teasing but reverent. “You keep talking like that, and I’m going to carry you out of here.”

Lizzie chuckled, low and intimate, her fingers dancing along the nape of Y/N’s neck. “That would certainly give the staff something to gossip about.”

“They already do,” Y/N said, lifting her head just enough to meet Lizzie’s eyes. “But I don’t care. You’re the best thing I’ve ever made room for.”

The words hung between them like the warm glow of candlelight — honest, unfiltered, and completely theirs.

A soft knock interrupted them. Y/N sighed and sat up reluctantly as one of her servers poked their head in, apologetic.

“Sorry, Chef. I didn’t want to interrupt but… Table Twelve asked for the dessert your fiancée had. They’re insisting they’d pay anything. I told them it’s not on the menu, but they’re asking if you’d come out to explain?”

Y/N blinked, then glanced at Lizzie, who looked equal parts amused and sheepish.

“Should I… not have eaten it like I was in a romantic food commercial?” Lizzie asked under her breath.

Y/N grinned. “No notes on the performance.” Then to the server: “Give me a minute. I’ll handle it.”

She kissed Lizzie’s knuckles as she rose, smoothing her apron as she headed out to the dining room. At Table Twelve, a small group of well-dressed guests greeted her eagerly.

“Chef!” one of them said, smiling. “That dessert your partner had — the one with the crown — is it truly off-menu? It looked… incredible.”

Y/N clasped her hands, her expression warm but firm. “Thank you, truly. I’m honored you noticed. That dessert is called My Queen… and it’s not on the menu because it’s something I created only for her.”

A soft wave of understanding passed through the table, a mix of admiration and disappointment.

“I’m really sorry,” Y/N added. “But it wouldn’t be special if it was for anyone else.”

They smiled anyway, raising their glasses. “Well, that’s the most romantic reason we’ve ever heard for being turned down.”

Back in the office, Y/N dropped onto the sofa again beside Lizzie with a sigh. Lizzie looked at her curiously. “Was it okay? That they asked, I mean. I didn’t mean to draw attention.”

Y/N turned to her, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “It was more than okay. You don’t ever need to shrink for me, Liz. I want the world to see how much I love you.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened. “Even if it makes your life harder?”

Y/N leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “Especially then.”

A breath passed between them. Warm. Whole.

And just like that, the world melted away again — the kitchen, the noise, the questions. All that remained was this woman, her steady heart, and the promise of something sweet waiting for them both at home.

“Now,” Y/N whispered, grinning. “About that surprise…”

Lizzie only smirked. “You’ll need to earn it, Chef.”

“Challenge accepted.”

---

The surprise started the moment they stepped through the door.

Lizzie had insisted Y/N close her eyes as she led her inside. The scent of jasmine and something woodsy lingered in the air — a trail of lit candles leading down the hall to their bedroom. Soft music played from the corner speaker, something slow and rich that hummed beneath the silence. When Y/N opened her eyes, Lizzie was standing at the foot of the bed.

Her fingers slowly toyed with the silk sash of her robe. “Don’t move,” Lizzie said, voice low and commanding in a way that made Y/N’s pulse stumble. She pulled the sash loose with practiced ease, letting the robe slide off her shoulders.

The sight hit Y/N like a slow exhale.

Lizzie stood in nothing but sheer, delicate lace — a soft blush-colored lingerie set Y/N had never seen before. It hugged her curves with reverence: the bra scalloped and dipping low between her breasts, the garter straps trailing down to thigh-high stockings, all subtle shimmer and temptation.

Y/N’s mouth went dry. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Lizzie took one slow step forward, her hips swaying just enough to make it unfair. “That’s not the plan,” she whispered. “The plan is to make you forget everything except how much I love you.”

Y/N reached for her, but Lizzie shook her head. “You’re not touching until I say.”

It was a long night.

A night filled with Lizzie taking control — and then surrendering it. A night of laughter muffled by kisses, hands tangled in sheets, limbs wrapped tight as though they couldn’t possibly get close enough. Lizzie whispered devotion into Y/N’s ear while she rode her slowly, deliberately, her name a prayer on Y/N’s lips. And when Y/N laid Lizzie out with reverence and worshipped her with hands and mouth and heart, Lizzie cried out against her neck, trembling with love.

They didn’t sleep so much as drift — catching breath, clinging tighter, and starting again until even the candles burned low.

---

The next morning arrived quiet and golden.

Lizzie stirred in Y/N’s arms, both of them bare under the soft white sheets. Her cheek was pressed against Y/N’s chest, their legs tangled, her fingers curled loosely against her side. Y/N was already awake, her hand tracing slow, languid patterns across Lizzie’s back. Neither had spoken for several minutes, content in the hush of the morning.

Lizzie’s voice broke the silence, drowsy and warm. “You know we haven’t picked a venue yet, right?”

Y/N groaned softly, eyes still closed. “This is how you’re starting my Sunday? With logistics?”

Lizzie lifted her head, blinking at her through sleep-hazed lashes. “With our wedding. That’s romance, babe.”

Y/N cracked one eye open. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

Lizzie smirked, leaning up on one elbow and letting her fingers drift down Y/N’s bare collarbone. “You love me too much to skip it. And I’ve waited too long to get to say ‘I do’ to you.”

Y/N sighed in surrender, her lips twitching into a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine.” Lizzie kissed her softly, lingering.

The kiss turned deeper, slower, until the conversation gave way to breath and skin. Y/N’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Lizzie’s sleep shirt — the only thing she’d managed to throw on when they finally collapsed hours ago — brushing warm skin above her waist.

“Still think we should get out of bed?” Y/N murmured.

“No,” Lizzie whispered, climbing into her lap with a soft sigh. “We’re very busy.”

They undressed each other again, this time unhurried, like it was sacred — like they were making morning their own private ritual. Y/N pulled the shirt over Lizzie’s head slowly, letting it fall beside them, her hands mapping familiar skin as if rediscovering it. Lizzie leaned down, kissing along Y/N’s jaw, her mouth trailing heat and love down her neck.

Y/N rolled them gently, her body covering Lizzie’s, and pressed her lips to her ear. “I love you.”

Lizzie looked up at her, eyes shining in the morning light. “I know,” she whispered. “Show me.”

And Y/N did — again and again, in every kiss, every whispered promise, every slow breath they shared.

Afterward, wrapped around each other in the tangle of their bed, Lizzie lazily kissed Y/N’s shoulder and murmured, “We should do venue talk after orgasms more often.”

Y/N chuckled, burying her face in Lizzie’s hair. “Best way to get me to agree to anything.”

Lizzie smiled. “Good. Because I already booked two tours for next week.”

Y/N groaned again, but didn’t let go. Not for the world.

---

The following week arrived with a soft breeze and sun-kissed skies — the kind of early spring warmth that made the world feel full of promise. Y/N and Lizzie drove out of the city, hand in hand across the center console, music humming low between them. Lizzie wore sunglasses and a white linen shirt that floated gently in the breeze from the open window. Y/N couldn’t stop glancing at her.

Their first tour of the day was at a vineyard tucked in the hills, about an hour and a half from the city — known for its wines, yes, but more importantly, for its sweeping views, golden light, and rustic-modern barn space used for intimate weddings. Lizzie had found it late one night, scrolling Pinterest with a glass of red in hand, and immediately said, “This is the one.”

Y/N hadn’t disagreed — but she wanted to see it in person.

And once they arrived, she was speechless.

The gravel driveway curved through rows of orderly vines, already waking from winter. Lavender bushes lined the walkways. In the distance, the barn-turned-reception-hall stood like a painting — pale wood, large windows, and a wide deck overlooking the valley. A little chapel sat farther up the hill, white-washed and charming, with ivy curling up one side.

Lizzie glanced over as Y/N stepped out of the car, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You’re thinking something.”

“I’m thinking we might not even need to see the second place.”

Lizzie grinned, slipping her hand into Y/N’s. “Told you.”

Their guide, a warm older woman named Maria, led them on a slow walk through the grounds. They saw the vineyard ceremony lawn, lined with wooden chairs and facing the sunset. The barn’s interior had soaring beams and golden chandeliers, already set with a long harvest table, wine barrels decorating the corners. Twinkle lights crisscrossed the ceiling.

“It looks like us,” Y/N said quietly as they paused in the doorway, their fingers still linked.

Lizzie leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “It feels like us.”

When they reached the deck behind the barn, Lizzie pulled her in close, eyes shining. “Imagine this spot for our first dance. Everyone behind us. Just you and me and the sky.”

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She just turned to face her fully, hands sliding up Lizzie’s waist.

“Okay,” Y/N whispered. “This is it. This is where I want to marry you.”

Lizzie beamed, barely containing her joy as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her — soft and sure, right there in the sunlight.

They signed the contract that afternoon, and toasted with glasses of chilled rosé, sitting beneath a vine-wrapped pergola.

“To us,” Lizzie said, raising her glass.

“To the beginning of forever,” Y/N replied, clinking hers against it.

And in that golden vineyard, surrounded by nature and each other, the future had never looked more beautiful.

---

The weeks leading up to the wedding had been, for the most part, smooth and joyful. Plans fell into place, florists and caterers confirmed, and fittings turned into laughter-filled afternoons. But for Y/N, the demands of her restaurant surged as spring reservations filled quickly, critics came through unannounced, and one of her sous chefs quit without warning.

The day it all came to a head, Y/N arrived home late, exhausted and frayed, the collar of her chef’s coat wrinkled, her eyes shadowed. She dropped her bag by the door and leaned against the frame, silent.

Lizzie, who had been curled on the couch reviewing a seating chart, looked up immediately. “Babe…”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, just let her head fall back with a sigh.

“Come here,” Lizzie said gently, rising and guiding her into the kitchen. “I made you tea.”

“I don’t want tea. I want… out.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “Out?”

Y/N nodded, defeated. “Just for a few days. Somewhere without phones or menus or timelines. Just… us.”

Lizzie’s eyes softened. She set the mug down, took Y/N’s hand in hers, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then we’ll get out. I’ll book something tonight.”

The next morning, they packed quickly. A few sweaters, wool socks, wine, a pile of books, and snacks from the local market. Lizzie grinned as she zipped their duffel. “I found a place in the Catskills. Fireplace, snow, no cell signal. Heaven.”

And it was.

The cabin sat nestled in the quiet stillness of the Catskills — surrounded by trees, kissed with snow, and utterly removed from the noise of their lives. They arrived at dusk, unloaded groceries and duffel bags, and immediately collapsed on the couch, limbs tangled beneath a shared throw.

That first night, they didn’t speak much — just exchanged slow kisses between sips of red wine, bodies pressed together by the fire. Lizzie nestled deeper into Y/N’s lap, her hand tucked under the hem of her fiancée’s hoodie, fingers tracing gentle circles on bare skin.

Y/N leaned her head back with a sigh. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” Lizzie whispered. “Let’s stay here forever.”

She shifted to straddle Y/N’s lap, pushing the hoodie up inch by inch until her fingers found the bare skin of her lower back. Their lips met again — slower this time, patient and exploring. Y/N’s hands slid under the back of Lizzie’s thighs, guiding her closer, and Lizzie gasped when their hips pressed together.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered against her lips.

Y/N didn’t answer — just scooped her up in strong arms and carried her toward the firelit bedroom. They undressed between kisses and laughter, clothes falling wherever they may, their bodies drawn to each other like they were magnetic. When Lizzie pulled Y/N on top of her, their bare skin meeting fully, she cupped her cheek and said softly, “Touch me like you miss me.”

“I always miss you,” Y/N murmured, kissing her slowly. “Even when I’m holding you.”

They made love slowly, their movements fluid and tender — hands exploring, mouths mapping familiar landscapes, bodies humming in rhythm with their hearts. Y/N kissed her everywhere — along the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her hip, the inside of her thigh — and Lizzie’s gasps and moans were like music in the firelight.

When Lizzie reached her peak, her nails dug softly into Y/N’s back and her legs trembled around her. Y/N held her through it, kissing her tears when they came, whispering love over and over like a prayer.

And when they collapsed together afterward, breathless and bare beneath the quilt, Y/N wrapped her arms tightly around Lizzie and whispered, “You’re my home.”

They stayed that way for a long time — wrapped in each other, outside of time — while the fire crackled on and the snow continued to fall just beyond the windowpane.

The next few days passed in a dream — hiking, shared baths, lazy mornings where Y/N woke Lizzie up with kisses trailing down her spine and soft moans buried in the sheets.

One afternoon, after they’d returned from a walk along the lake, Y/N slipped behind Lizzie while she washed dishes and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I’ve been thinking about our vows,” she murmured, arms circling her waist.

Lizzie leaned back into her. “Yeah?”

“I don’t just want to promise forever. I want to promise you morning coffee with your favorite toast. A back rub on long days. Your favorite dessert after shitty interviews. Safety. All of it.”

Lizzie turned in her arms and cupped her face. “That’s what I want, too.”

Y/N kissed her hard then, lifting her onto the counter and parting her knees. Lizzie’s breath hitched as Y/N kissed down her throat, then lower — slow and hungry, worshipping her right there in the quiet kitchen, the sound of the snowstorm outside barely louder than the gasps she pulled from her lover.

Their final night at the cabin was laced with melancholy and magic. Lizzie stood barefoot on the back porch in one of Y/N’s sweatshirts, holding the worn leather journal she’d found in her bag.

“I read it,” she said softly, handing it over. “The vows.”

Y/N blinked. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“They were beautiful,” Lizzie interrupted gently. “You wrote that you wanted to promise me joy when the world feels gray. That you’d be my silence when I need peace. My breakfast on Mondays.”

Y/N stepped into the snow and wrapped her arms around her. “I meant every word.”

Lizzie smiled tearfully. “Let’s promise it now.”

They kissed as the snow fell around them, arms wrapped tight, and when they returned inside, they made love one more time beneath the glow of firelight — soft, slow, full of promise. Y/N kissed every inch of Lizzie’s skin like she was memorizing her, and Lizzie whispered her love into every breathless sigh, every shiver, every kiss.

The wedding would come later, yes. But here, in this quiet cabin carved from cold and kissed with love, they’d already said their vows in the language only they spoke — love, touch, devotion, and joy.

---

They returned home with the scent of pine still lingering in their clothes and snowflakes melting off their boots. Their hearts were full, their bodies still warm from the cocoon of the cabin, but the rhythm of real life was waiting — and with it, the final stretch of wedding preparations.

Invitations had already gone out, and responses were trickling in faster than they could update the guest list. The vineyard was booked — a sprawling estate tucked in the hills of Napa, lush with green rows and golden light, perfect for the kind of wedding that felt more like a celebration than a show. Lizzie had chosen her dress in secret, refusing to give Y/N even the faintest detail, and Y/N did the same with her tux — both of them determined to preserve that moment, the reveal, the first look, as something sacred.

They met with the florist again, choosing wildflowers and eucalyptus, soft lilacs and creamy roses. Lizzie made changes to the table settings while Y/N finalized the menu with the vineyard’s chef, sneaking in a surprise dessert that she refused to let Lizzie preview.

Evenings became soft and domestic again — Lizzie working at the dining table with swatches of linen and playlists for the ceremony, while Y/N cooked late into the night, humming to herself as she tested miniature versions of hors d'oeuvres.

Some nights, they stayed up too late, sprawled on the couch in pajamas, glasses of wine half-finished on the coffee table as they practiced their first dance to an old vinyl playing in the background. And on quieter mornings, Lizzie would find Y/N in the kitchen scribbling into that same leather journal, rewriting her vows — not because the old ones weren’t good enough, but because every day with Lizzie made her love grow, made her want to say more.

One afternoon, they drove out to the vineyard just to walk the grounds, fingers laced, imagining the aisle, the ceremony, the toasts. As the sun dipped low behind the hills, bathing everything in gold, Lizzie leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“We’re really doing it,” she whispered.

Y/N kissed her hair. “We already did.”

The countdown continued — ten days, then five, then three — and through it all, their connection never wavered. The cabin had given them peace, but the days that followed brought grounding, anchoring them in a love that was steady and sure. They teased each other constantly about what they’d wear, but not once did either of them peek — both savoring the anticipation of that first glimpse, that once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Their wedding day was coming. But what they’d built already — in kitchens and cabins, in soft mornings and snow-covered kisses — was the kind of forever they’d promised long before anyone heard them say “I do.”

---

Does anyone want to see their wedding?

#elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen oneshots #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x you

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sunday-bug · 3 days ago

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Happy Accident epilogue

Pairing: Congressman Bucky x pregnant!girlfriend reader

These can be read as oneshots, but if you want to read in order, check out below ⬇️

Word count: 1.6k

Content: fluff & sweetness, brief mention of the death of a parent, breastfeeding

Synopsis: Sam, Sarah, the boys, and your dad come celebrate Thanksgiving with you & Bucky and get to meet the baby.

This is the last part of my first completed little series. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I want to credit the idea for this epilogue to @foreverchangingmind - thank you for the inspiration <3

Fortunately, you’d planned to celebrate Thanksgiving on the Sunday following the actual holiday, so you had a few blissful days at home with just Bucky and your newborn. Your little bubble. You both decided to not even announce the birth and surprise everyone when they arrived. Bucky had been slaving away in the kitchen, letting you rest on the couch with the little one.

Thankfully everyone was bringing a side dish, but Bucky was in charge of the turkey. The house smelled incredible - sage, pumpkin, just warm and cozy overall. Baby James was snoozing away on your chest, scrunched into a little ball of sweetness.

Bucky walked in with a forkful of stuffing, “Open!” You gladly taste test his work. “It’s perfect, babe,” you assure him. He sits down next to you and kisses James’s head softly.

“Hopefully he’ll wake up by the time everyone gets here,” he says, rubbing his little back. The baby makes a quiet noise and nuzzles further into your chest.

“If not, I’ll wake him up to see if he’s hungry. I want to make sure everyone gets to see him,” you say with a soft smile. “Thanks, baby, for cooking and just everything. This is perfect.”

Bucky kisses your head and walks back to the kitchen, whistling an old tune. “You’re welcome. I like cookin’, anyway, doll.” You hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, the sound of water boiling, and the hiss of something going in a hot pan. “Do you need any water or anything, love? I know everyone else will be drinking wine,” he says with a shrug, walking back around the corner to you. You nod and smile again. “It’s okay. I don’t want to pump and dump. Not worth the hassle. I’m going to gorge on mashed potatoes. Those are better than any wine could be anyway, especially when you’re the one cooking them.” Bucky chuckles and the baby startles as the doorbell rings. You both look at each other. You’d managed to keep everything a secret - the birth, anyway - so all of your guests were expecting to see you with a big baby bump and not a tiny bundle in your arms. You were so thrilled.

“Here we go,” Bucky says with an excited grin. He walks to the front door as you stand up from the couch, cradling baby James in your arms. “Sam!” Bucky exclaims, opening his arms wide to give him a hug. “So glad you could make it. Welcome in,” he says, taking a bag out of Sam’s hands. Sam takes his shoes off and hangs his coat up before glancing up at you. He does a double take at the little figure in your arms.

“Hold up! HOLD UP! Bucky!” He exclaims your name as well before realizing his volume may be a bit much for little ears. “You guys sure can keep a secret. Wow!” Bucky comes over and wraps his arm around your shoulders and beams down at your little one. “He decided to come a touch early, but he’s perfectly healthy and ready to chow down for Thanksgiving.” Sam walks over closer to you and the baby and looks down, smiling. “He’s so small. Wow. How are you feeling?” He directs the last question to you and you smile.

“I’m doing great. Taking everything hour by hour and taking it very slowly. I can’t imagine doing this without Buck.”

Sam puts a hand over your shoulder and squeezes gently. “Congrats you guys. Really. You did good.” He looks at Bucky as he says the last part.

“You haven’t asked his name yet, buddy,” Bucky says with a soft smile. Sam looks between Bucky, you, and the baby with questioning eyes. “James Samuel Barnes,” you announce with a grin. Sam puts a hand over his heart and swallows. “Wow, I’m honored. Buck, man, that’s incredible. Thank you. And thank you,” he says pointedly at you. You smile and nod. “I know how much you and Bucky have been through together and that you’re basically family so we couldn’t have picked anything else. I’m glad you like it, too.”

The doorbell rings again and Sam answers it while Bucky runs back to check on everything in the kitchen. You lock eyes with your dad as he walks through the door. His eyes immediately spot the bundle you’re holding and tears well up in his eyes. He makes his way to you after a quick hello to Sam and hugs you awkwardly, trying not to squish little Jamie. “My baby with her baby,” your dad says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look at that hair!”

“Sit down, Pop. You can hold him,” you offer, sitting down on the couch. Your dad looks at you with a worried expression. “Are you sure? He’s so tiny. I don’t want to-”. You cut him off before he can protest further. “Here,” you say, putting Jamie in his arms. “Your grandson wants to meet you.” The little baby’s eyes flutter open as your dad takes him and he coos softly. Your dad swallows again, trying not to cry. “You know, kiddo,” he says, looking at you, “your mom would be so proud of you. She’s looking down on ya now. I just know it.” You feel a lump form in your own throat and swallow it down. “Thanks, Pop. I wish she was here with us this year.”

“Me, too, kiddo,” he says. “Gosh, you two-” he says as Bucky enters the room again, a dish towel thrown across his shoulder, “you two did good.”

“Sir,” Bucky says, “good to see you. I’m so glad you could make it. She was a trooper, your daughter. I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”

Your dad laughs, “That’s because there isn’t anyone quite like her. She’s the spitting image of her mother. Strong-willed, but soft and kind. That’s the best kind of woman if I do say so myself, but I may be a bit biased.” Your dad and Bucky chuckle and little Jamie cries out softly.

“He’s probably hungry,” you say. “I’m going to excuse myself for a bit to feed him. You guys catch up, okay? Pop, I know Sam was just in Delacroix fishing. I’m sure he has a lot to tell you.” You start walking to the nursery, soothing Jamie as he cries. You change his diaper before settling into the soft, comfortable rocking chair and letting him feed. The doorbell rings as you’re breastfeeding, and you let the boys handle it, just relaxing in the moment with your son, humming softly and closing your eyes.

A couple soft knocks rap on the nursery door before Bucky peers his head in. “Sarah and the boys are here,” he whispers, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him to give you privacy. “They want to see Jamie when you guys come out.” You smile softly. “Of course they can.”

Bucky looks down at where Jamie is connected to you and huffs out a small laugh. “I think the little man is falling asleep at the wheel.” You look down to see the baby’s eyes closing and his tiny hands open and relaxing by his sides. “He appears to have gotten his fill,” you announce, standing up with him slowly. You walk back out to see the table all set with everyone’s contributions to the beautiful Thanksgiving meal. Everyone is sitting down as Bucky walks you out. Sarah stands up and opens her arms. “Let me see that precious boy,” she says softly. You hug her and let her hold him.

Bucky wraps his arm around you and squeezes, facing you both toward your small gathering - Sam, Sarah holding Jamie, the boys, and your Pop. You feel another lump in your throat to see all of your favorite people under one roof. Your roof. Bucky clears his throat. “I just wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving and that I’m so glad we can all be here together. And surprise! Little Jamie just couldn’t wait any longer, but it makes today even more special. However,” he begins, glancing at your dad who gives him the slightest nod, “I think there’s one thing that could make it perfect.” You look around with a quizzical expression at everyone’s smiling faces before looking back to see Bucky kneeling in front of you with a shy, loving smile. Your breath catches as he starts to speak again, taking your left hand in his.

He whispers your name, “I know our journey hasn’t been the most traditional, but that seems to be par for the course for my life. You bring such immense joy and peace to me. I can’t imagine having anyone else by my side everyday. You make me laugh, feel loved and cherished, and I’m so incredibly lucky to have met you. And now we’re embarking on parenthood together with this precious kiddo. He’s perfect, just like his mom. Let’s do this… really do this.” He pulls a ring out of his front shirt pocket and presents it to you and you feel the tears start to roll. “I love you. Marry me. Be my wife. Be mine forever.”

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you, James. Of course!” You say through a thick throat and teary eyes. He slips the ring onto your finger and stands up, bringing you in for a hug and kissing your forehead gently. You whisper softly for only him, “I love you so much. Thank you.”

“Alright, enough! Let’s eat! It’s Thanksgiving!” Sam says with a huge grin. You both break apart and laugh. You weren’t sure how to fully express how you were feeling right now as you sat between your Pop and your Bucky. Sarah and Sam were across from you, with little Jamie napping happily in Sarah’s knowing arms. The boys were already chowing down on sweet potato pie.

Bucky nudges you gently and your ring gleams in the light. “How are you feeling, love?”

You look around again, taking it all in, placing your hand over his, “Thankful.”

THE END.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #congressman barnes #thunderbolts*#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #dad!bucky #new dad!bucky #pregnant!reader #new mom reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier

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kaiserboom · 2 days ago

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a/n: ok ok, another nagi x porn star! fem reader.. base off another ANON ask!!- why did I make reader kind of an stripper here- isn't it the same thing anyways..?? OMDS. i KINDA lost the plot 💔 CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP- AND ARE PRO! SOCCER PLAYERS. prompt: Nagi misses you bad so bad it gets to an point. he wants to hire you for one night!, asking Reo to pay you for one night. Reo agrees however only if he gets to join. cw. threesome, pure smut, ooc, rough reo??, nicknames (whore, slut) mentioned once. nagireo?. pairings: Reo mikage x porn star! fem reader x Nagi seishiro. mdni rushed/ not proofread

𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙂𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙔?!

𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙎𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝘼 𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙆

Nagi and his teammates had just secured a vital victory, their teamwork and determination paying off.

To celebrate their hard-earned win, they decided to hit a bar- not any kind of bar, but a strip club. Nagi, who preferred the comfort of his video games and a quiet night at home, was initially hesitant about the plan to have a boys' night out. Reo, however, convinced him that associating with his team could be fun- and even memorable.

Finally arriving at the bar, they found the place was packed-crowds filled every corner, the air was thick with the sounds of pulsing music and the rhythmic beats blasted through everyone's ear's like an intense rampage.

Spotting his teammates gathered at a table, Nagi made his way over and sat down. Glancing around, he noticed everyone ordering drinks- some choosing cocktails, while others settled on beer. His eyes scanned across the room before locking with Reo's. "What are you ordering, Nagi?" Reo asked, his gaze sliding him a teasing look. Nagi scoffed and shrugged. "I'll order whatever you order."

Reo raised an eyebrow at his sudden response. "Can't you order something without my help?"

Nagi rolled his eyes, his voice dipping into a mock-annoyance. "I didn't even want to be here- you made me come."

Reo sighs with a pestering smile. "I wanted you to come because I heard Y/n would be here... isn't she your favorite pornstar?"

Nagi's jaw drops in shock, his body jolting slightly. he glances across the table hoping no one heard what Reo said. "What the hell?! So what if she is..?" he grumbles, trying to brush off his embarrassment.

Reo snickers, shaking his head. "I mean- it's a strip club. maybe you could hire her or something." Nagi sulks, crossing his arms in frustration. "I don't have the money for that, and you know that already! You stupid nepo baby."

Reo grins mischievously. "Relax... I could hire her for you. Only if you..."

Nagi's eyes narrow, darting sharply toward Reo. "Only if I what?" he demands.

Reo stares at Nagi for a while. "let me join. You have to be fair Nagi, after all it is my money that I'm spending."

Nagi mind raced to the thought of Reo joining in. Maybe it wasn't an terrible idea after all. he can imagine both men sharing you.

Nagi scoffed. "Fine. But just so you know, I'm not taking anything up my ass." Reo raised an eyebrow at his response "we'll see."

Both men stood up to leave the table. Catching the attention of one of there teammates. Zantetsu "where you guys going?" He asked before taking a glance at his watch. "Don't tell me your leaving."

Reo laughs. "Stupid Zantestu... where just heading to the bathroom" Nagi Nodded in agreement to Reo's terrible excuse.

They both walk off. leaving Zantestu behind. before he could even question. Why Reo needs Nagi to come with.

turning the corner. Nagi saw you talking with someone else, the way you were so pretty- his eyes were drawn to your figure. Sudden rush of warmth spread through his body, like he was caught in with love sick fever.

Reo approaches you with a smile. "Hey princess. was wondering are you free tonight? do you mind if we book you today."

Reo glances at Nagi. giving him a subtle nod to take the assist "Hey... I seen- You make those contents... and I saw on your story... that"

Reo scoffed at Nagi's hesitating "What he trying to say. are you up to an threesome?"

SMUT MDNI.

You could feel both men hands lingering around your hips, their touches possessive almost like they are fighting over you- just the way there hands grips onto your skin.

"Reo let go." Nagi murmured, pulling you towards his direction. a subtle hint of desires in his eyes.

You would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on. your pussy in display dripping on the bedsheets below.

"Look how wet she is." Reo cooed.

He glance back at Nagi. "lift her up for me." Reo ordered calmly.

Nagi groans annoyed at Reo's commanding tone. treating him like he some sort of puppet.

But despite his irritation at Reo, he still complies to his orders. Moving out of Reo's way to give him space for him to turn your body. "Arch for me, Princess." his tone was firm yet so commanding.

You softly nodded in response. Carefully you shifted yourself onto your hands and knees, before arching your back upward, lifting your hips high to the position Reo had requested.

Nagi watching all this from the couch. Couldn't help but softly stroke his cock to your lewd position and also the way Reo was manhandling you. your eyes fixed on his furious tip.

The way it was oozing with Pre-cum. because of you.

Reo visibly annoyed, with a roll of his eyes, grabbed your hair, causing you to turn to him. "Really? your looking at him?" he scoffed. "Of course you are. Porn-star slut." You bit your lower lip holding the soft moans and whimpers that threaten to slip out.

Reo didn't even try to prep you. it's not like this is your first time. you fuck around for a living. feeling his delicious tip at your entrance made you shudder.

Feeling the way it's slides into you so perfectly. "F-fuck! so tight.." he groans. His hands seized your hips, the nails biting into your flesh.

Your moans slips out from your lips. Causing Reo to hum. "mhm atta girl." His hips jerks into you. causing you to let out a soft yelp. "Argh..mhm R-Reo." You close your eyes feeling so close to your ograsm. The way your pussy clamped around his immense cock.

Your hands tightening around the sheets. soft moans escaping out of your mouth. Your head tilts towards Nagi. Watching how he jerking to you and Reo.

Watching how Nagi's hands clamp around his cock. you can't help but get wetter from watching him relentlessly fist himself. You couldn't think straight- not when Reo's massive cock is pounding you into fourth dimension.

You felt so overstimulated. "Fuck.. keep squeezing me like that" Reo moans into your ear. You felt so helpless squirming.

"Reo when is it mine turn.. unfair Nepo child." your eyes obverse Nagi. You felt Reo softly pull out-not fully though.

"Really Nagi- wait your turn." you gasped feeling how your pussy clench around noting. Reo thrusts in you again. His hands reaches towards your hair. Gripping your hair tightly in an make-shift ponytail.

Glancing up, you saw how the bed dipped beneath Nagi's weight. "your a rude person. stupid Reo." Reo scoffed, confused at his sudden outburst. "excuse me?- aha fuck!" Reo lets out a choked out moan. Nagi lined his cock with Reo's rear. before thrusting in. Shoving the whole thing in one single motion.

"Your an huge slut, R-Reo. keep on fucking her- aha" Reo groans, nodding as he begins to slowly move into you-gentle, steady movements. Even while he trembling like scarecrow. due to the sudden pleasures Nagi giving him. Nagi begins thrusting more, groaning into Reo's neck "fucking shut up... such a hassle.."

Reo eyes flutter shut. the way your gummy walls were swallowing him ten times more. He was overstimulated already. He didn't need Nagi's delicious cock thrusting into him.

"I'm closee!" you softly moaned out, letting your legs quivering. Reo sobs out. Nodding with you "mhm! fuck!" he leans in kissing you in an tense, passionate kiss. Nagi to focus on chasing his own pleasures. deeply immersed by the moment.

"fucking slut's." He groaned before pounding into Reo. your eyes roll to back of your skull. feeling Reo's hands rub your clitoris. you arch your body more. "i-im cumming! im cumming!" you sob. Reo's eyes widened at the way your pussy tightens around him.

"Fuck princess!- N-nagi! relax a fucking bit-aha!" Reo eyes shut close. he knows he close. few final thrusts into you, he starts cumming in you. The room was filled with rhythm of movement, empathizing the intensity of the moment. Nagi inhaled sharply watching his own best friend come undone.

you let out a soft moan as Reo's warmth surrounds you. "R-Reo" you whispered. feeling overwhelmed from your high. Nagi who still thrusting into Reo- is not even close.

"nah, not done yet." he said with a firm tone indicating he wasn't ready to stop. he gently pulls out of Reo. letting Reo flop upon the bed sore and exhausted from his previous climax.

"Both of you, arch your fucking backs."

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 24 hours ago

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Hey, idk who to talk to about this, but I need to yap about giving trailbreaker the most sloppiest toppy head he's ever received in his life. Like him kinda drunk and blacking out afterwards, and he thought it was just some crazy fantasy until he catches reader's eye and they thank him and ask for a round two, but its his valve next. He is super freaking cute and deserves so much better than how he's treated in the comics. Please understand that I love him.

Thanks for all you do and all you write. It makes my day so much better when I see it.

- d. tron

Trailbreaker x reader, reader gives trailbreaker some mad dome, reader wears a playboy costume, gender neutral, racially ambiguous, no genitalia mentioned for reader, intoxication

Halls of Ween or whatever this human holiday was called was okay in Trailbreaker’s book. He didn’t half mind the spooky little celebration Swerve put on for the ship’s little human. He definitely didn’t mind the costume you chose either. Tight little black leotard with a white collar and tiny tie, cuffs to match your collar, fishnets, and some black heels. What really made your costume all the better for Trailbreaker’s spank bank was the little bunny ears and tail you wore. Playboy was it? He remembered you talking about something like that.

Hell, he could hardly pay attention when you spoke to him. Your soft little lips moving to form words was practically hypnotizing. Even now as you rambled on about something, Trailbreaker couldn’t keep his attention focused on what you said. All he could do was ogle the way you stuck your butt up in the air as you leaned over the bar from your stool. Your hips swayed back and forth and Trailbreaker couldn’t help but imagine reaching over you and grabbing that sweet little aft in his servo. He could run a digit along your barely covered human valve as you struggled to keep speaking. He’d definitely want to finger you nice and wide open while making sure you keep talking. That voice was like a hum of angels.

Then something sour ran through his energon tubes. A pang of jealousy and loathing stabbed through his spark as the realization hit him. With your ass in the air, any mech could get a look at your barely covered cunt as it presses against the leotard. You swayed your most intimate parts side to side like a hypnotizing pendulum for any mech to ogle at. Any mech including Fortress Maximus.

While Trailbreaker will admit, it didn’t seem like Maximus was trying to catch a perverted glance at your genitalia, he could still tell from the flustered state of the mech that he was definitely looking. What business would Maximus even have with you anyway? You barely reach his knee plating for Primus’ sake! There would be no way he could fit his spike inside of you. Your poor little pussy would be torn in half!

Trailbreaker didn’t even realize how hard he had slammed his cup back down onto the bar until the angelic hum of your voice stopped. “Are you okay?” You asked with a look of concern.

“Huh? Y-yeah,” Trailbreaker slurred trying to calm himself. Frag, he just caught Rodimus taking a long shameless look at how you stuck your ass in the air. Whirl seemed to notice what Rodimus was looking at before he said something to the mech. Whatever Whirl said must have been bad because Rodimus cringed, rolled his eyes, and made a disgusted face.

“Are you sure?” You asked standing up straighter giving your back a delightful little arch.

“Yeah,” he said with a lopsided smile trying to convince you to drop the subject. Trailbreaker didn’t know how to explain how jealous he was getting over other mechs simply looking at you.

Oh come on! Even Megatron was watching your cute little ass in the air over his drink!

“We can always go somewhere quieter,” you said while leaning closer to Trailbreaker. There was intent laced within every words you spoke. His EM field pulsed with need at how you looked at him.

“Y-yeah?” Trailbreaker stuttered through. He had no idea how to react to his ultimate fantasy starting to come to life.

“Only if you want to,” you corrected trying to back track a bit.

“Let’s go to my habsuite,” Trailbreaker smiled feeling his spike start to pressurize. He couldn’t tell if the buzz he was feeling was from the engex he had been drinking or the fuzzy feeling you sent straight to his spark. In all honesty, you were giving him more of a high than engex ever could.

You leaned even further across the bar until you were slung over Trailbreaker’s black arm plating with only your tiptoes still on your barstool. “I’d really like that,” you said lowly while looking up at Trailbreaker through your eyelashes. You could feel the electric hum of his EM field putting your hair on end. His cooling fans seemed to snap on without any warning at simply you hugging his arm. He could feel your warm body squish against his plating through your skimpy costume.

“You look like you want to do me right here right now,” you teased noticing Trailbreaker’s predatory gaze on you. His optics burned brighter through his visor. His orange biolights were brighter now than you had ever seen them.

“I really do,” Trailbreaker rumbled with a rev of his engine. “But I’d hate to have anyone else getting to see you like that.”

You gigged as you hopped off of your barstool with a soft umph. Trailbreaker watched you amused at the insane size difference between you two. “C’mon,” you teased while running your hand along his leg wheel. “Show me your habsuite, handsome.”

The walk to his habsuite seemed to take forever and not just because he had to slow his pace so you could keep up with him. It was like the halls were never ending and Trailbreaker would never be able to have you so cutely spread out on his berth. He had half the mind to just grab you like a doll and slink into a storage closet before he finally reached his door.

“Frag,” Trailbreaker laughed looking down at you. “How are we going to do this?” You ran your hands up his thigh plating as you rubbed your face against his leg. “Maybe you should come down here then,” you purred.

Trailbreaker had to keep himself from collapsing on top of you at your request. He carefully knelt down and folded himself over until his faceplate was inches from you. He could feel your little breath on his dermas and dear Primus did you smell so good. He grabbed you in his servos as he pushed his intake against your mouth.

Your lips were so small as you struggled to keep up with how Trailbreaker practically devoured you. Every little squeak and moan you made only fueled how desperate Trailbreaker was to have you. He groped at your soft flesh so needily you were sure he left bruises in his wake. His digits ran over your ass in worship before pinching the fat between them. The way you jumped and moaned into the sloppy kiss was enough to have his spike springing free from his modesty plate.

You managed to pull away from your giant lover to ogle at the black and red phallus that bobbed between his legs. Trailbreaker swore under his breath starting to feel embarrassed at how needy you had made him.

“Fuck,” you bit your lip. “Can I suck you off?”

Trailbreaker lost his balance before tittering on his heels then flopping on his aft. You grunted a bit as his servo knocked you over but slowly started giggling.

“Frag yes you can,” Trailbreaker grunted feeling like his processor was 10 meters higher than his helm. This buzz was like being in a helium cloud. He swore he was dreaming when he saw you kneel in front of his spike and wrap your hands around him. His valve pulsed at the contact as transfluid started to leak from the tip.

“You’re so warm,” you said breathlessly as you moved to kiss up his shaft. You eagerly let your tongue slip between your lips to lick up his mechanical cock. Trailbreaker was about to say something but was cut off when you shoved his spike as far into your mouth as it could go. You set a frantic pace trying to suck everything Trailbreaker had out of him.

“Don’t-FRAG-Don’t hurt yourself on it,” Trailbreaker moaned as his voice box became glitched. This was everything he had ever fantasized about. You looked straight out of a porn in your little costume as you sucked him off like his spike was your only source of life.

You pulled off his spike with a dramatic slurp. “You’re so hot,” you panted as you desperately licked at his cock. “God I’ve wanted this for so long!”

Trailbreaker whined. You were going to kill him if you kept up what you were doing. Delicate little human lips worshipping his spike like you were born to have him fuck your mouth. You left open mouth kisses up his shaft as you stroked him eagerly. A mixture of your own drool and his transfluid became your lipgloss with every kiss you left.

Trailbreaker cupped your body in his servo as you slobbered on him. Your human mouth was like nothing he had ever felt before. The way you moaned with his spike in your mouth made him unintentionally buck his hips causing his tip to jab the back of your throat. Trailbreaker had thought he killed you when he heard you gag but much to his relief you were fine and all too eager to choke on him.

You pulled yourself away from the mechanical phallus once again to give Trailbreaker a devious look. “Do you want to fuck my face?”

It came out of him like an eruption. Bright pink fluid spurting from his spike and covering your costumed body. It slid down your chest past the sweetheart collar of your leotard and into your costume. It covered your torso like you were a dipped strawberry.

“Frag,” Trailbreaker ran his servo over his faceplate as the embarrassment started to set in.

“Was that just from me asking you to fuck my face?” You giggled as you played with his overload between your fingers.

“I swear I can last longer,” Trailbreaker slurred as the mix of his buz and the orgasm started to get to him.

“That was hot,” you praised as you started to lick his overload off his spike. “That’s so hot knowing I have that effect on you.”

Trailbreaker whined and grabbed your head to keep you from overstimulating his poor cock. “I can make it up to you.”

“No need, baby,” you said softly as you guided his servo to cup your face. “Just let me clean up a bit. We can continue after you recharge.”

Recharge? Why would he need to recharge? You’re here dressed like a pervert’s dream covered in his transfluid! Why would he-

His optics flickered on as he gazed through his visor. His systems buzzed and his gears creaked with an engex hangover. Was that all a dream? Did he really get so blasted he passed out and had a wet dream about you? Apparently it had been good enough for him to pop open his modesty plate in his sleep. Trailbreaker went to move but stopped when he heard an annoyed sleepy groan.

Your sleepy little form was nuzzled against his chasis just under his chin. A patchy cloth covered your body in a makeshift blanket as you snoozed just over his humming spark. All the energon in his body was rushing through his tubing so fast he could hear the rush of fluids in his audial receptors. You stirred under your blanket and gave a big stretch. Trailbreaker could only lay there stiff as a board as he realized last night was very real and not some sick prank his processor pulled on him. Your costumed body was on top of him with bits of his transfluid staining your leotard. Your bunny ears and heels were tossed to the side of his berth carelessly. Every fantasy Trailbreaker had had of this moment flashed through his processor. He should be suave and confident in this moment not feeling like his spark was trying to burst through his chasis.

“G’morning, handsome,” you said sleepily as your little hands cupped his faceplate.

“Frag,” Trailbreaker exvented. “Did we-?”

“I just gave you a blowjob,” you purred while stroking his faceplate. “I wanted you to get some sleep before we went any further. You looked beat last night.”

Trailbreaker could feel every cable, every wire, and every piston in his body relax from your touch. “You tasted so good,” you said moving your position so you were straddling Trailbreaker’s chasis. “That big spike came so much for me.”

You started leaving open mouth kisses along his jawline. Trailbreaker brought his servos up to cup your small human body as you loved on him. His spike began to twitch as it started to be brought back to life.

“Are you gonna let me slobber on that valve?” You whispered in Trailbreaker’s audio receptor. “I wanna eat you out so bad.”

“Frag,” he moaned as he lifted his legs and bent his knee joints. “Who am I to stop you?”

#transformers #valveplug #valveplug x reader #trailbreaker #trailbreaker x reader #trailbreaker valveplug #transformers x reader #sorry for ending it before you start gobbling on that valve #I couldn’t think of a way to continue that I was happy with

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 days ago

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Thanks for the prompt @carnationsandrobots! Here's a bit of post-canon Nightbutcher:

28. “...I don't hate you.” “...you don’t?”

CW: Character injury

Jenny doesn’t think any of the kids notice; they’re too jubilant after solving what sounds like a long, difficult case involving multiple hellhounds, a demon, and a bunch of Tories. Edwin is switching back and forth between bickering with Crystal and scolding Charles for being reckless. Charles is too busy making cow eyes at both Edwin and Crystal. As usual, Niko is just happy to be there. None of them seem to notice the way the Night Nurse grimaces when Niko brushes by her and sticks to the edge of the room, leaning slightly against the wall.

“We’re going to go out to celebrate,” Crystal tells Jenny, eyes bright. It’s good to see her in her element, even though Jenny still doesn’t think a pair of seventeen year olds should be running around London chasing after hellhounds, demons, and asshole politicians. “Do you want to come?”

Jenny shakes her head. “Some of us have work in the morning.”

“How about you, Charlie?” Charles calls, one arm thrown over Niko’s shoulders, the other one around Edwin. “You coming?”

The Night Nurse sniffs. “That is not my name, Charles Rowland.”

“Well, you won’t tell me your name, will you? Gotta call you something.”

She doesn’t look like she agrees. “There’s no need to celebrate doing our jobs. We’re professionals.”

“Sure, we are,” he says easily. “Professionals that are taking the night off. Cheers!”

“Just make good choices,” Jenny calls as the kids pile out the door. “Ones that don’t involve demons.”

“No demons, we promise!” Niko beams at her over her shoulder before the door closes behind him, leaving the office suddenly quiet and empty.

The Night Nurse sighs and shakes her head. “They should be working on their bloody reports, not out gallivanting. This is why nothing ever gets done around here.”

“Right.” Jenny goes to retrieve the first aid kit from the drawer the boys keep it in. It annoys her that she spends enough time here that she knows the layout of the office like the back of her hand by now. “Where are you hurt?”

The Night Nurse blinks at her. “I am not hurt. I am an eternal, trans-dimensional—”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned. But you’re an eternal, trans-dimensional being that’s been swallowed by at least one fish, so it’s not like you’re Superman.”

“Who the bloody hell is Superman?”

“Just show me where you’re hurt.”

The Night Nurse rolls her eyes at the ceiling and raises her left arm.

“Jesus Christ,” Jenny says emphatically when she sees the dark bloodstain drenching the side of the Night Nurse’s brown jacket.

“It’s nothing. It will heal.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“The hellhound got in a lucky swipe. Hellish beings are one of the few creatures that can hurt me.”

“What, so you were just going to not say anything to anyone?”

The Night Nurse draws herself up, which would be more impressive if that didn’t make her wince. “There was no need. This won’t kill me.”

“Just take off your fucking jacket, Charlie.”

She expects the Night Nurse to protest, but instead she just sighs and shrugs off her jacket. “I keep telling all of you, my name is not Charlie.”

“Well, then you should tell us your actual name, because trust me, Charlie is the nicest of the things we could call you.” Jenny grimaces when she sees the mess under the Night Nurse’s blazer. The hellhound must have gotten its paw under the blazer; the side of the Night Nurse’s shirt is shredded, the white fabric soaked with blood and sticking to her skin. “Jesus Christ.”

“You keep invoking that name, but I assure you, He has nothing to do with this. That’s an entirely different department.”

As she has with the many, many things in the nearly a year since she found out that ghosts and demons and fucking dandelion sprites exist, Jenny decides not to ask. “Shirt off.”

“That’s not—”

“I promise, I won’t tell any of the other eternal, trans-dimensional beings that you needed a fucking Band Aid.”

With a huff of exasperation, the Night Nurse begins to unbutton her shredded shirt. “You’re a butcher. I don’t see how you’re qualified to give me medical attention.”

Jenny smiles thinly. “Meat is meat.”

Her patient doesn’t seem impressed by that, but Jenny wasn’t expecting her to. Still, the Night Nurse pulls her shirt off. Jenny carefully doesn’t pay attention to the sensible white cotton bra or the swell of freckled cleavage underneath. Mostly because the four gashes slashing from the Night Nurse's hipbone and up her side to nearly her armpit are incredibly distracting. Jenny has never been squeamish—you can’t be in her line of work—but she still winces at the sight.

“You’re lucky those aren't deeper” she tells the Night Nurse.

“If they were, I still would have been fine, because as I said, immortal trans-dimensional being.” The Night Nurse sighs gustily, which does interesting things to her cleavage that Jenny does not take note of. “Proceed, if you must.”

“Thanks,” Jenny says dryly and ducks into the bathroom that adjoins the office—which looks a hell of a lot nicer after a year of Crystal and Niko being a fixture here—and wets a few paper towels. When she returns, she finds the Night Nurse sitting on the desk with the air of a disgruntled cat who’s about to just let the vet close enough to scratch the shit out of them. Her fingers drum impatiently on the desk as Jenny approaches.

“I do hope this won’t take long,” the Night Nurse says as Jenny slips on a pair of latex gloves and begins to gently wipe the drying blood off her skin. “I have work to do.”

“Don’t you always?” Jenny mutters.

“The Lost and Found Department does not run itself.”

“Doesn’t your boss lady, who is actually Niko but old, run the Lost and Found Department?”

“The Principal is second only to Death. She’s far too busy for the likes of the Lost and Found Department.”

And doesn’t that just make Jenny dizzy that Niko is going to grow up to become Death’s second-in-command, but due to time fuckery in the afterlife, she already is. Another thing that Jenny isn’t thinking about, because it makes her want to go hide in the closet that Edwin and Charles are always ducking into to “discuss things.”

“Well, the Lost and Found Department is going to have to survive a night without you.” Jenny can’t feel the Night Nurse’s skin through her gloves, but it looks soft. Freckled too, which is weird. It seems like an eternal trans-dimensional being shouldn’t have something as human as freckles. She has a little scar under her belly button. Jenny wonders where she got it, but doesn’t ask.

The Night Nurse harrumphs.

“You don’t usually go with the kids on cases,” Jenny says.

“I wanted to be close at hand, given that a demon was involved.”

“In case Edwin got dragged to Hell again?”

“Exactly.” The Night Nurse’s lips press into a thin line, like the admission pains her.

That’s the other thing that the kids haven't noticed: that despite all her sighs and scoldings and complaints about being forced to linger on this vile mortal plane, the Night Nurse clearly cares about them. In their defense, the Night Nurse is about as affectionate as the feral cats Jenny used to leave food out for behind the butcher shop back in Port Townsend. She seems only slightly less likely than the cats to scratch your eyes out for getting too close.

“This is going to sting,” Jenny warns her as she pulls an antiseptic wipe out of its packet.

“I’m not human. It’s hardly going to bother—ow.”

Jenny raises an eyebrow at her. “You were saying?”

The Night Nurse huffs, but there’s a hint of a rueful smile around her lips.

“Maybe if you're going to keep taking on hellhounds, you should brush up on some self-defense,” Jenny says as the Night Nurse tightens her grip on the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white.

“My self-defense is that I cannot die.” For the first time, the Night Nurse’s voice carries a tinge of strain.

“A few inches to the right and your guts would have ended up all over the ground, which wouldn’t have felt great, immortal or not.”

“The beast took me off guard.” The Night Nurse grimaces as Jenny moves on to the deepest of the gashes. If she were dealing with a human, Jenny would probably suggest stitches for this one, but she can guess how that would go over.

“But you didn’t tell the kids you were hurt.”

The Night Nurse watches Jenny’s hands work, brow furrowed in concentration. “They were busy dispatching the demon. I did not want to cause a distraction.”

“And afterwards?”

“There was no need for a fuss.”

Jenny snorts.

“What’s so funny?” The Night Nurse asks severely.

“All that complaining about them going out to celebrate, and you didn’t want to worry them.”

“They would not have been worried. Trust me, I am well aware of what you all think of me.” Something flickers in the Night Nurse's expression.

“And what do we think of you?”

“You hate me.”

“I don't hate you."

The Night Nurse actually looks surprised at that. “You don’t?”

“No,” Jenny says. “Do you think I’d be spending my Friday night stopping you from bleeding to death if I did?”

“I cannot bleed to death. And no offense meant, but in the months I’ve known you, the only plans I've ever seen you have are with four teenagers, two of whom are dead. Did you have any other plans for your Friday night?”

Yeah, Jenny really needs to start getting out and meeting new people. Fuck, she hates new people. “And for what it's worth, the kids don’t hate you either.”

“I don’t know about that,” the Night Nurse murmurs, glancing down.

God, why is Jenny always the one stuck giving people pep talks around here? She’s the least qualified person to give a pep talk, except maybe Edwin, whose encouraging speeches always seem to circle back to that time he went to Hell. “Look, I’m not going to lie, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” the Night Nurse says dryly.

“I haven’t forgotten about that mind fuck thing you did to me when you were looking for Crystal and the boys.”

“There were extenuating circumstances.”

“The extenuating circumstances were that you wanted to take an innocent kid to Hell, so that isn’t really the defense you think it is.” She seems to have nothing to say to that, so Jenny presses on. “You don’t seem to understand child labor laws, you think everything has to go exactly your way or it’s the end of the fucking world, and look, we get it, you hate earth. You can stop bitching about it now.”

The Night Nurse regards her with narrowed eyes. “I was under the impression you were trying to convince me that you don’t hate me.”

"But I know you're the reason we were able to get Niko back," Jenny says. "And I'm pretty sure you're the reason more demons haven't come after Edwin since he escaped Hell again. And you do look out for them, even if you're determined to make sure everyone knows what a hardship it is for you.”

“I take my responsibilities seriously. I was tasked with looking out for them by the Principal herself. And…” The Night Nurse’s gaze flicks over Jenny. “And not everything about the mortal plane is entirely unpleasant.”

Jenny finds herself lost for words, unable to do anything but stare at the Night Nurse in surprise. Look, she’s out of practice on the whole dating thing—besides Maxine, though she doesn’t like to think about that—but she’s pretty sure the Night Nurse just flirted with her. And Jenny, who is thirty-five years old and not a blushing teenager too hopped up on hormones to think straight, has no idea what to do with that.

She doesn’t think she hates it, though.

Jenny clears her throat and busies herself with grabbing the bandages out of the first aid kit. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to stop radiating disdain at all times. Maybe you and the kids would get along better.”

The Night Nurse sniffs. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

They’re quiet as Jenny wraps the bandages around the Night Nurse’s torso. There’s no way to do it without getting close, close enough that the Night Nurse’s hair keeps brushing her cheek. She smells nice, like vanilla. Jenny usually has steady hands—you have to as a butcher, or you’re going to lose a finger, like her dad did towards the end when the drinking got really bad—but she keeps fumbling the bandage, distracted by how close her cheek is to the curve of the Night Nurse’s shoulder.

As soon as she ties off the bandage, Jenny steps back, snapping off the gloves and tossing it in the trash. “Okay, you should be all set. Just try not to get in fights with any more hellhounds, okay? Someone around here has to have some sense of self-preservation.”

The Night Nurse sighs gustily. Jenny continues not to look at her cleavage, but Jesus Christ, they need to find her a shirt that’s not covered in blood. “Thank you, Jenny. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” Jenny says. “And next time, just say something.”

“There won’t be a next time,” the Night Nurse says. “Like I keep saying, I’m an eternal, trans-dimensional—”

“Pain in the ass,” Jenny grumbles.

The Night Nurse actually laughs at that. Not her usual sardonic bark of laughter, but a real laugh. It’s a nice laugh.

Fuck.

“It’s Asa, by the way,” the Night Nurse says.

Jenny is trying to think around the fact that she’s pretty sure she’s attracted to the most exasperating woman she’s ever met. Who isn’t even a woman, but some kind of immortal being. “What?”

“My name. It’s Asa. Not Charlie.” The Night Nurse—Asa—rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell Charles. He’ll be even more insufferable than he already is.”

Jenny feels her mouth tugging into a smile against her will. “You can buy my silence by going an entire day without complaining about the mortal plane even once.”

“Impossible.”

“You’re an eternal, trans-dimensional being. Pretty sure your whole existence is impossible.”

“Clearly not, since I am sitting right here. Unfortunate, since I do not belong on this—”

“And there you were, about to complain about the mortal plane again, weren’t you?”

Asa opens her mouth, then closes it. She’s cute when she’s befuddled. “You didn’t specify when the day was supposed to start.”

“It started about a minute ago.”

“Well, it is not my fault that there are so many things to complain about. Like those blasted cellular devices the girls are always waving about. All the knowledge in the world at their fingertips, and they waste it watching Tic Tacs and—”

Jenny rolls at the ceiling as Asa launches into her familiar list of complaints. Well, she's always had disastrous taste in women, she supposes. She may as well see where this goes.

***

#dead boy detectives #nightbutcher #dbda #jenny green #the night nurse #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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wooahaes · 2 days ago

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the tender kind of caring

pairing: non-idol!jun x gn!reader, ft roommate!joshua

genre: fluff, romance. mutual pining, friends -> lovers. slightly hurt/comfort.

warnings: vague mentions of food/going out for birthday dinner. mentions of reading having a bad relationship with their mother/parents. jun in love <3

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: sliiiightly personal fic bc of the beginning lol but its sweet and this cheered me up a bit to write

The last thing you expected to see on your birthday was a text from Jun that was… oddly firm in his request. Please wear something nice? I’m on my way.

All of this started when you called him about a week ago, lamenting about lost plans and the admittedly not-very-healthy relationship you’d always had with your mother. He’d listened, even met up with you that day to take your mind off of all of it, and been left with this pit in his stomach when he went back home. His roommate had taken one look at him and knew that it was about you: Jun had never hid his feelings about you with his friends… and from you, to be fair, although that fact was a much more recent reality. While neither of you had made the first move, Jun knew you felt the same way about him due to a casual comment you had made a few weeks ago. One of you just had to step out and say something, and maybe, just maybe, it should be him.

“You could cook for them,” Joshua said from the couch that night, one arm draped over the back of it. He’d been watching a movie until Jun started pacing around the kitchen, looking things up on his phone. “You know they love your food.”

He did, but… Would it be overstepping to call the restaurant and ask for the same reservation that you had cancelled?

“Dude.” Joshua had leveled his gaze at him, his smile falling. “Even I know they love that place. Call and see if you can get it. They don’t need their parents to go.”

But would it be selfish for you to go out and celebrate…? Jun knew the way your mind worked. He knew that even though you wouldn’t be there for such a minor situation, that you would feel guilty about spending your birthday doing something nice for yourself. He looked down at his phone, the restaurant’s website open on his phone.

Joshua was the one who acted. He stood up, snatching his phone as he hit the number and walked away. Within seconds, he was already speaking, voice growing distant as he traveled down the hall and into his bedroom, “Hi, I’d like to make a reservation for…”

Jun thanked him afterward. Jun knew how your brain worked, and he knew how his own did, too: his worries for upsetting you would have always stopped him from doing what he wanted to do. And if you turned him away, he’d either call and cancel or he’d take a friend with him. But he hoped you would come with him: if it’s selfish for you to go out on your birthday, then he would simply be selfish for you and treat you the way he felt you deserved to be treated. Kindly, and with so, so much love.

He bought you flowers. It’d been a little more of a hassle to pick the perfect ones for you, but the man at the shop had been sweet enough to give his input as Jun described what you liked. He’d watched as the man tied a pale blue ribbon around a bouquet of forget-me-nots, and felt his heart flutter a bit. This was happening. He liked you. He’d maybe even say he was in love with you, despite the fact that the word felt more loaded.

Quietly, Jun made his way up to your apartment, knocking rather than letting himself in. He knew that you wouldn’t mind if he did: there was a reason you gave him everything he needed to get into your apartment, and it wasn’t just because he was the kind of person who would drop everything to come take care of you. You had several people in your life that you trusted, especially if something were to happen to you and you needed help: Jun had just joined that list over time, and you’d told him outright how much you trusted him.

A few minutes later, you finally opened the door. To his surprise, you had dressed up nice. Had he let something slip…? Did Joshua give you a heads up?

“Hi.” You’d rested your hands by your side, only to move them seconds later to toy with the sleeve of your sweater. A second later, your gaze fell to the flowers in his hands. “Are those…?”

He held them out. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Immediately, he shut his mouth. Shit. That… That wasn’t what he planned to say. He was going to wish you a happy birthday and ask if you wanted to get dinner with him. Confessing was supposed to be something he said later, after he went on a short walk with you. After he complimented you and told you how nice you looked, and talked about anything other than the reason your plans had been canceled (unless you wanted to vent, in which Jun knew he would listen).

You, on the other hand, had barely accepted the flowers when he confessed. They fell from your grip slightly, the feeling of them slipping enough to make you snap back to attention and nearly crush them when you grabbed them. He’s in love with you. It’s not a question, not to you: not when you’d oh-so-subtly dropped the hint a few weeks ago to see if he knew. And when he blushed and changed the topic, it’d merely confirmed what you knew. Things had been far more mutual between the two of you than you thought. Of course, you would have made the first move sooner or later if life hadn’t bulldozed the path for bullshit to take over. Last week's news was just one drop in a bucket already threatening to overflow.

But at the end of the day, there was Jun. There was always Jun, who smiled at you like you were the cool breeze on a warm day. Who looked at you like you were every pretty thing the world had to offer. Jun, who’s standing in front of you, blushing at his own slip-up.

“I think,” you said after a moment, voice all too soft now, “I’m in love with you, too.”

He smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You held onto the flowers. “Really.” And then a second later, you tacked on, “Is that why you asked me to look nice? So you wouldn’t confess to me in my pajamas?”

Jun laughed, and it put the color back into the world. “Do you want to go out?” He offered a hand. “I made reservations at that place you canceled… I mean, Joshua did for me, but…”

You accepted his hand, squeezing it. “Let me put these in some water first, okay?”

Jun watched you shut the door behind you, leaving it cracked barely open, and he leaned against the railing with a smile. He’d been in love before, dated before, but… There was something so sweet about the bashful look on your face as you returned the silly confession. How long had he been your friend? Years? Only one day, he stopped looking at you as a friend and started seeing someone he wanted to keep in his life differently. More intimately. The tiny bits of jealousy he felt when you dated other people… At one point, he assumed it was because he’d been single and yearning for a relationship. When he looked back, he knew: he longed to be close to you in that way. The fact that the two of you seemed to be coming together like magnets only felt right.

The door opened again a few minutes later. You had patted down your pockets, just to be sure that you had everything you needed. Jun offered his hand to you again, and you slipped yours into it, already interlocking fingers with him. You shut your door behind you, and turned to him.

“Jun?” You leaned against him for a second, pressing a tiny kiss against his clothed shoulder. “Thank you.”

He just smiled, squeezing your hand. “It’s your birthday,” he said. “Of course I’m here.”

And, hopefully, he always would be.

#wooahaes.25 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #junhui imagines #jun fluff #jun x reader #junhui x reader #junhui fluff #wen junhui x you #wen junhui x reader

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hypothermiatapes · 1 day ago

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Sometimes I randomly think about how much Harry’s childhood probably affected his personalities and relationships.

We know Harry was abused as a kid—it glaringly obvious in the books—, but my question is what exactly did this abuse do to him in the long run?

I think for Harry it wasn’t as obvious as it could have been, but to me he seems like a wonderful example of an abuse victim in a way. When he gets angry it’s usually cold and calculated, Harry usually not being too loud as not to draw attention but to let his anger be known. He doesn’t like attention, usually avoiding it if he can and getting uncomfortable from it, I think it could be traced back to attention usually having negative consequences.

While he may go to an adult first when a problem arises (McGonagall and the Philosophers Stone) if the adult proves incompetent he will take matters into his own hands and not bother getting their help again. He also doesn’t respect them like he could and treats those who treat him badly the same, Snape a wonderful example of this. To him he is on the same level as them and thinks lowly of them at the same time.

When Ron and Hermione are bickering it annoys him and often causes him to blow if it goes on too long or he’s pulled into it. I think raised voices or arguing are a type of trigger, not one that’s very strong but can makes him feel more on edge and slightly more antsy. I also think him being treated as “less than”—or like a child—is also a slight trigger because that’s how the Dursleys would treat him.

He also usually is very unaware of the people around him that don’t make a difference in his life, failing to know the names of kids he’s gone to school with for years. To me it seems like someone that’s always only relied on themselves is too busy caring for themselves that they don’t have time to care about people that don’t matter. These people also fade to the back because they don’t pose a risk in any way nor do they bring him any joy. At the Dursleys he wouldn’t have had time to care about kids at school because he’s too busy thinking about how to escape Dudley and his gang and not get on his aunt and uncles bad side.

The sorting hat also mentioned how Harry had a thirst to prove himself, something that’s common among abused kids because they want to be treated better. His risk taking behavior could have been mixed with this because a subconscious part of his mind thought it the only way to be liked due to him being a celebrity.

I also noticed how he doesn’t really branch out when it comes to meeting people, simply going with the flow. It could be because as a kid if he went up to Petunia, Vernon or Dudley for attention it never ended well and the kids at his primary school probably shied away because he was a target for bullying. The logical decision is to let people come to him and prove they want to be around, so he let Ron and Hermione come around without really reaching out.

Emotions also make him uncomfortable, seen with Cho crying around him. He doesn’t understand them likely because he was forced to push his away because he wasn’t allowed to ever be upset or too happy. Something that’s common in emotionally neglected children, it also points to his lack of empathy. While Harry may seem to care he does not come across as very empathetic for the average person unless it’s people he’s close with.

Harry is a wonderful example of an abuse victim in a way, but only if you look really closely.

#harry potter #harry james potter #hp #hp thoughts #harry j potter #harry potter analysis #harry potter thoughts #emotional abuse #tw abuse #child abuse #vernon dursley #petunia dursley #dudley dursley

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storkmuffin · 11 hours ago

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Liveblogging the SanHwa Lego Build (Part 4)

You can find PART 1 HERE and PART 2 HERE and PART 3 HERE

requested by @jess-the-mess2513

After sticking some needles into San, Seonghwa is back into mothering mode for the final stretch. He pays San an outright compliment - "You're doing a good job."

He asks San a normal-ish question. "What color lightsaber do you think suits us?" San answers, "You? What color do you want?" Seonghwa wants Blue. San says "red" as an answer but I can't tell if he's sassing Seonghwa or giving himself red after taking it as a given that Hwa gets blue.

Seonghwa reads out an encouraging comment from the chat, praising San's Lego making. He announces that over 10,000 people are watching San put his lego together.

Someone says that they tried learning the Halazia choreo and found it difficult, according to what Seonghwa reads out. San agrees that among the other choreo they've done, Halazia is very difficult. He says most of their choreo goes hard, but the Halazia choreo demands that the dancer be able to control a fast-slow change up. It was difficult to learn, San says, but then they got accustomed to it. Hwa is already impatient with being the nice guy.

"All new things are difficult at first - and one always gets used to it in the end."

He's being Yoda, is what I think is happening. I don't like it one bit.

Seonghwa knows what he did, as San turns to look at him and wants to hit him again. San has a really good grip on his temper, I must say. Exemplary.

I got this far and then San just SHUSHED Seonghwa because he kept speaking in sermon-like aphorisms. Seonghwa doesn't even mind the rude shushing. He forces San to bow down before his greatness at being super, duper weird and annoying.

This is what Seonghwa says in full:

처음이 어렵지, 다 익숙해지게 되어 있어. 하지만 그 익숙함에 속아 자기 자신을 놓으면 안돼. 이 레고도 마찬가지지. 한번 방심 하다가는 돌이킬 수 없을 경지에 ... (Everything is difficult at the start, but you're bound to become used to it. But you can't then let yourself be tricked by this familiarity and let yourself just go. It's the same with Legos. A single instance of carelessness can take you to a place of no return...)

Seonghwa then also adds, "You've achieved something today! You've become this friend's arm and his shell!"

San just doesn't answer.

Jongho comes back. Hala hala hala Halazia~~ JONGHO IS HERE. San rightly calls him Hyungnim (elevated version of big brother). Jongho sounds like he's San's father when he asks, "Did you finish making it??"

San has figured it out now. He tries to celebrate but Seonghwa has figured out that the best way to break San is to say aphorisms, truisms and sermons at him, so now he has that manic look in his eye.

그래, 틀리면 다시 고쳐가면 되지. 인생이 이런거야. Yes, if you make a mistake you can just fix it and move on. That's what life is all about.

Jongho shows us his cute face, but what you need to focus on is the deranged look in Seonghwa's eyes at this moment. He has finally fully found the spot that will unravel San when he pulls at it hard enough. He's gotten what he wanted.

The chat explodes now that Jongho is showing himself. Jongho was surprised that the Lego live was still happening even though he finished his ablutions and even did his skincare. Making Seonghwa laugh like an adoring mother, Jongho demonstrates how he puts on his face lotion.

Jongho apparently got self conscious about having mentioned drinking alcohol a little while ago, so he explains again that he wasn't and isn't drunk, just a little bit buzzed. It's kind of hilarious he feels the need to explain any of this at all, because he has sounded 100% sober, for one thing, and for another, given the sheer amount of weirdness that Seonghwa has been putting out for TWO HOURS, whatever elevated mood or mania that Jongho could be feeling from getting his drink on just doesn't make any impact.

Jongho is amazed that they've made three of these things already. San, voice soft with exhaustion and from Seonghwa repeatedly taking out chunks of his neck, tells him he's working on the fourth Lego of the evening.

Seonghwa starts reading all the comments that give Jongho some love. Then someone tells Seonghwa to put the finished Legos in the Pringles container. Seonghwa is very amused by this idea.

But he of course refuses. These Legos are sentient to him. He's also a neatfreak. And he also knows what he did to that poor Pringles container. Ain't no way the Legos go in the Pringles container. Seonghwa is very alarmed that these mini legos perfectly fit inside the Pringles container.

Jongho is very practical, so he asks if Seonghwa couldn't just wash out the container and use it as a transport method for the Legos. This way he can move the fully constructed Legos, and it'll keep shape easier than if he tried to use the box to move them back to Korea. Seonghwa says No, his pride would not allow it. He would rather unmake and remake the Legos from scratch rather than subject them to the indignity of being transported in a Pringles container. Mother would rather put herself in jail, than do that. Jongho asks if there's a code of behavior for people who like Legos to not do unorthodox container usage.

Seonghwa tells him what I think is the true: "No it's more that it's not to my taste. This has to do with my preferences."

Jongho is so sane and normal. His questions all make logical sense. He also knows what Star Wars is. He takes his leave of his teammates and the Atiny in a very polite way and leave the screen.

San is finished. Finally. Seonghwa is grinning in that scary Lego Dom way as Sannie has all the marks of someone who has been through it. Look at his poor little face.

San is so nice. He said that he has been through the Seonghwa Experience. it was fun, he says. "It was actually fun, right?" Seonghwa asks. "Yes," San answers. Seonghwa is smiling. San is not. Seonghwa is going to recreate this imbalance with Hongjoong in 2025.

San finally gets to do what he always wanted to do, which is see what the fans are doing, but Seonghwa is so excited and showing off the Legos.

The fans ask Seonghwa to model his slinky looking pajamas which he does. He says he bought the black, and Wooyoung bought the navy. Someone else asks whether San is feeling overheated, because his face is red. (The translation on this video is wrong by the way in what he says as the answer). San explains very patiently as he always does, that he has rosacea, and so his skin gets red sometimes.

Seonghwa makes a concession to friendship by saying he too sometimes gets some redness, but he's too hyped. He celebrates out loud that he has made a Lego, with a member of his band, in Denmark.

San has this great commitment to learning English now, in 2025 and I see he had this back in 2023 too. He's intentionally reading out the English comments he can both easily understand and pronounce correctly and is practicing saying the responses. I'm so pleased about this. This is how effective language learning takes place. San is so good at figuring out how best to acquire knowledge and skills.

Seonghwa has put San through the ringer, and he knows it, so he offers that next time, they will do a joint Live broadcast where they will do what San likes. San immediately takes him up on the offer to say, I'm going to do a reading live with you. We'll sit tight and read a for three or more hours until the book is finished.

Seonghwa doesn't like this idea whatsoever, but he can't say no nor rescind his offer. When San asks him what his favorite genre of book is, he looks like this:

Anything not hard science, apparently, is Seonghwa's reading preference. Note to self: This is the way to defend yourself against the Seonghwa attack of chiki chaka and the repeat phrasing and the just, ass smack deserving weirdness (I mean, but also San is so lucky to be able to touch that behind at will and he doesn't even really like doing it? Boy really is a favorite of the Gods.) In short: BRING UP BOOKS. Bring up SCIENCY books about Facts and Information, and you might defeat the Hwa of Lego Domming. Duly noted.

But unlike Wooyoung, who just straight up says he doesn't read, Seonghwa says that he is all about reading poetry, books that convey life-lessons, and other artistic and emotionally accessible types of writing. Seonghwa says he has a lot of books at the dorm that he has yet to finish. He always tells himself he'll read more when there's time, but then he can't find the time (Relatable). When Seonghwa was in school, he would be named the student who borrowed the most books from the library.

"It's hard to believe now, isn't it?" he says to San. And San doesn't say anything but he does find this surprising. It's WHY he doesn't say anything - he's too nice. Seonghwa accepts this and adds that people who knew him in the before era, before he was an Idol, find how he is now to be very surprising.

Seonghwa says that he finds the lure of Youtube Shorts and other short form content too seductive. San concurs, saying that it's difficult to muster up the mental energy to concentrate on a book, especially hard copies. But Seonghwa says that reading eloquent books really do help in speaking and writing better. San agrees with this too. He can't look up from the phone. This is a very phone addicted behavior and I identify.

Seonghwa, wrapping up, wants to know if he should take the Legos with him. San no longer cares what happens to the Legos, because he has bled for them, so Seonghwa says he will transport them back home, with care. San notes that a LOT of people have been watching this Lego broadcast.

Seonghwa is trying to draw blood from a stone right now, trying to make it sound like somehow this Lego experience was a thrill for someone other than himself. "This just proves that we don't have to be speaking the whole time for a Live broadcast to be worthwhile to our audience. There's a variety of ways we can bring happiness to our audience. This is the merit of Lego-" he says, and San can't take it anymore.

"Don't be so smug when you say that, please," San says. "It's really getting on my nerves." This is kind of amazing that he, as a Gyeongsangdo boy, can keep his voice so sweet, and speak in the Seoul vernacular, as he gets so bitchy. LOL.

The really scary - well ok, so one of the many many very scary - things about Seonghwa is that he is actually undeterrable in any way whatsoever. He just got told to his face in front of 10,000 people that he's being fucking annoying, but it's like it never happened. The Lego related sermon will just roll on.

"There are so many life lessons to be gleaned from Legos," he intones, his voice getting all deep and velvety. (How does he do this, it's so seductive even though he's been torturing San and me for two hours.) His hand gestures are so fluid. His eyes are so beautiful. I feel hypnotized even though I know this is gaslighting by a Lego Queer Dom.

"Life lessons like these can be learned from Lego," says the Pope of Lego Queer Domination, "such as Do Not Give Up When Something Goes Wrong, and Try Again. Or, Suspect Yourself Before You Suspect Others. Double check if you've left a piece behind in the packaging, for example. Take the time to evaluate what could have gone wrong. Take the time to fully feel a sense of accomplishment when you've completed a piece. Become aware of how many thousands of good people are cheering you on your way. These are all the things that you can learn and gain from making Legos."

He says everything other than Let us Pray. And he doesn't have to say it, because he breaks San's neck anyway.

Seonghwa is fucking relentless. He is just not going to let anyone BREATHE. He uses everything he has at his disposal with ruthlessness. He knows San is studying English and feels compelled to practice his English at all times, so he completes his Sermon On the Holy Way of the Lego in that language:

"You know what it is."

San capitulates. "Yes," he answers, in English.

San explains to the audience that Seonghwa is also very 'comical' when they work out together in this same way. They exercise together a lot. When San hits a wall during a workout, Seonghwa will suddenly burst out into a very impassioned motivational speech, to say things like: :"Hey! Think of all the people who talked shit about you. Are you still their prey? No! No more! You can do it!!"

San is so tired. He got his energy up to imitate the impassioned Seonghwa giving this speech, but then he reverts to himself, and he says in a flat, tired voice with his flat, tired expression, "That's what he does."

Seonghwa adds another quote from himself: "Show the people who doubted whether you'd make it what you're made of!"

I mean.

The total amount of effort I have put into working out my whole life probably counts as a single warm up session for San, but nevertheless, if someone said shit like this to me while I was trying to eke out one more overhead lift I think I'd throttle them.

I can see from the translation version that they got it wrong. (I feel like I'm so negative for pointing out the wrong translations all the time but like, guys, the wrong translations, that land you in opposite world or a whole different dimension from the original context is ALL OVER Ateeze content, it's not even funny.)

Grammar check: Know that Korean uses Yes for when English would use No, to refute a double negative.

SW: 도움이 되지 않아요? It doesn't help you?

San: 네 Yes. (Meaning, No, it doesn't help me).

SW: 않아요? (Doesn't help?)

San: 네. Yes (Meaning, No, it doesn't help) [Laughter] 아뇨 도움이 되어요. No, it helps. (Yes, it does help).

While this is going on, Seonghwa has lovingly put all the completed Legos into one of the original packaging boxes. He does it so tenderly and gently, like they're Faberge eggs. Then he lovingly takes them out again. Seonghwa loves Legos so much. I doubt he handles body parts of humans this sweetly.

San is worried about whether this broadcast was fun for people to watch, because, he says, neither of them are good at multitasking.

Oh honey. Oh baby. Oh my darling innocent precious beautiful San. YOUUUUU were not multi tasking, I know. You were just trying to survive the Lego Dom Dungeon. But I assure you, that without a shadow of a single flicker of a doubt, that Seonghwa was most definitely multi-tasking his way through this entire session. The totality of the levels of enjoyment (cursed) that he got out of this are known only to him, Halazia, and Lego Corp.

Seonghwa, at minimum, is not a liar anyway. He interrupts bluntly with, "No, it was fun."

San is appalled at his rudeness. "What did you just say?" he asks. Because San was seeking the assessment of the Atiny.

Seonghwa does not care what the Atiny get out of it when it comes to Legos. He knows what HE is getting out of it, and that's what matters.

"I'm always trying to find out ways to improve the content we give them," San says.

"Don't be self conscious about things like that. Just trust the Atiny," Seonghwa intones. "Show yourself exactly as you are, to the world."

Yeah, you evil scary sexy Lego monster. You certainly have.

San wants to know why Seonghwa is talking exclusively in aphorisms like this. "Have you achieved Enlightenment or something? Do you fancy yourself to be a Wise Man?" he asks.

"I couldn't possibly feel better than I do right now," Seonghwa says, making big circles with both hands almost like an eternity symbol.

MmmHMM. Yeah. I BET.

So you know, note to the Seonghwa Ults. Post-coitus Seonghwa will give you a sermon about the lessons of life to be learned from the experience while you try to drag pieces of your soul back into your body.

Seonghaw has set up the Lego display again. Seonghwa wants to wrap up.

"What should we make the Legos do?" Seonghwa asks.

"Kiss each other," San says.

San? Angel baby boy?

"No," Seonghwa says.

San is trying to get his revenge. But he's just so tired, so rather than an all out attack, this feels more like the pathetic flailings of an injured bird. He makes his Legos kiss.

"Play well together," San tells the Legos. "No," says Seonghwa. "What should we do with them?"

"Make them hug?' More resistance from San.

"No," says Seonghwa. "Show them off!" he says. And he does.

It's incredibly cringe. it's so cring Seonghwa himself loses his nerve halfway.

San can't take it anymore. "How old are you?" he wails.

"Twenty six," Seonghwa says. Seonghwa is unstoppable because he can't be shamed. He just feels no shame, ever. "I've acquired enough maturity," he says. "I will hold on to my child-like heart forever."

Seonghwa the Lego Dungeon Dom keeps breaking my gorgeous Sannie's gorgeous neck and there's nothing I can do but cry and weep.

The two of them confirm that it's almost been two hours. Seonghwa pats San on the shoulder for enduring this session. San at least is getting more aftercare than Hongjoong will get at his session.

Then Seonghwa says, "You're the one who said you wanted to do this. You're the one you wanted to do this," twice in a row like that, while San refuses to acknowledge or look at him.

"Do you want to do this another time?" Seonghwa asks.

San is a creature of perfect, beautiful manners. "Yeeeesss" he says, because he's not going to reject his friend and coworker on air like that, no matter what has been done to him. San even adds, "I got to experience Seonghwa's hobby and it was - interesting..." but he doesn't get to finish the sentence, because Seonghwa wants praise for how well he dominated San. I don't know a lot about domming or subbing, but this doesn't seem like correct behavior. If you know the rules, pls advise.

"You know now what a steadfast and patient person I am, right?" Seonghwa says.

"No I do not," San says, sternly and clearly.

"Ay," Seonghwa says, insisting. "You see now that me, your bro, is a really tenacious man, don't you??"

San takes mercy on him. "Yes," he says, in his defeated little voice.

When they're wrapping up for good, San says that he hopes it was fun for those watching. He really hopes it was fun for them. (Because it wasn't fun for him, you see, so it needs to be fun for SOMEONE). San says he doesn't think he communicated very well with the Atiny on this broadcast, and he wants to do better.

"You did great," Seonghwa says, slapping him on the shoulder.

San was THIS close SO CLOSE thisTHISTHISCLOSE to hitting him right now.

Seonghwa notices, and acts outraged, but not a lot, because he knows what he did. "To your older Bro? To your older Bro? That's so scary! It was scary!"

Because pushing San to the point where he might actually lose his temper in front of the Atiny is a bridge too far, and nobody could cope with that, not even Seonghwa, apparently.

San wraps up by repeating the thing Seonghwa has been insisting on all this time, that Legos give you 'internal peace' but I think he's just being nice. I feel like he erupted in shouts and curses as soon as the invisible, silent staff that's been present this whole time confirmed that Seonghwa had indeed turned off the camera.

Hereby ends my Lego Dom Session recap. I feel like I've been through it. I'm so wrung out. I don't even cook, but I want to make HongJoon and San something to eat, so we can hold hands and cry about this experience together. Holy shit.

#ateez meta #seonghwa meta #ateez x lego #seonghwa lego #lego queer dungeon dom #san meta #sanhwa lego live #kpop #ateez #choi san #seonghwa

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pannman · 2 days ago

Text

Student Teacher Relationship

Radioapple

To celebrate me reaching 500 followers, now I am aroace myself and so my porn always has too much plot so tried to make it less plot this time

TW: smut, Ace Alastor, inexperienced Alastor, mentions of doing anal incorrectly, oral, anal, biting, swearing, bottom!Alastor, Top!Lucifer, bondage, blindfolds, degradation/teasing

Alastor never imagined having "those kinds of thoughts". And even more so yet he never imagined having them about the king of hell. It was all innocent at first. He needed to seduce a fellow overlord. Unfortunately his seducing skills were "a bit rusty" as he called it. However this was a lie as he knew nothing about the art of seduction.

Lucifer having been the first homewrecker in all of creation, the charming devil himself, and the source of all temptation was reluctantly talked into helping him. They were left to their own devices. One thing lead to another and Alastor admitted that he was very inexperienced. Lucifer was happy to teach as long as Alastor was happy to learn. And his curiosity got the better of him

Now Alastor was blindfolded and restrained to the bed. He could easily break free if he chose to but instead despite what his better sense was telling him he stayed put. Whenever he would fantasize (which was rarely) he tended to imagine someone else and he was just an observer from above. Never did he ever imagine people he knew. The people he imagined often didn't even take shape. But when Lucifer offered to give him a more physical experience an image came into his mind that he didn't love but didn't hate or push away. His curiosity had been peaked and Lucifer promised total discretion

Why he said yes or was still interested bewildered him but yet there he was waiting patiently for his teacher to show him how its done

"Now, consent is everything. Never be afraid to say no to something someone else wants or ask if something is okay first. That's why we discussed this all before hand" Lucifer said as he climbed onto the bed and straddled Alastor's hips. Alastor recalled the detailed conversation they had previously. What he was comfortable with. What was a definite no. How far did he wanna take it. What are some things he always wanted to try. Was he OK with this. Was he OK with that. It was a very open and productive conversation

Although he struggled at first to talk about it so casually. But Lucifer assured him that nothing he felt or desired was to be ashamed of. So despite the fact that he didn't really like Lucifer when they first met he found himself growing more comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to tell him about some of the kinks he's found very appealing and frankly intriguing

Lucifer brought Alastor's brain back to the present as his finger softly traced up his body. He leaned and whispered in his ear. "Are you ready to begin?" His voice was like silk. "Yes" Alastor breathed. Lucifer who was already stripped down began to unbuckle Alastor's slacks and pull them off slowly. He leaned down and kissed the inside of his legs as he did so. After that he climbed back up and met Alastor's lips with a kiss. There wasn't any tongue since Alastor had mentioned the thought of tongue grossed him out

Even without tongue Lucifer kissed him passionately. The intensity was so strong Alastor's body started to react a little to his surprise. But Lucifer was already hard. He could feel it against his thighs. Lucifer broke the kiss to trail and kiss down Alastor's neck nibbling here and there. The nibbles did something to him. "Bite me" Alastor said. "If that's what you want" Lucifer replied and the king sunk his sharp teeth into Alastor's neck. He could feel the sharp pain combine with arousal and exhilaration. He whimpered and grew more and more aroused as he could feel warm blood trickle down almost to his clothes. "Wouldn't want these to get dirty. Don't you agree?" Said Lucifer

"Yes, I agree" Alastor answered giving Lucifer permission to remove the rest of his clothes. Lucifer carefully unbuttoned his jacket while he lapped up Alastor's blood to prevent it from getting his (red) clothes dirty from the (red) blood. "You can be a little rougher with them, I can fix them easily later" Alastor informed him and Lucifer didn't need to be told twice as he ripped the clothes off Alastors body. Alastor furry chest surprised him. "I didn't expect you to be so fluffy bambi" he teased. Alastor turned red but grew harder.

Lucifer took notice. "Do you like it when I tease you?" He smirked. Alastor grew harder even more. "Yes" he admitted as he turned redder though he couldn't see himself he could tell by how hot his face was beginning to feel. "Is that why you always pick a fight with me? Do you get off on it?" He continued. Alastor grew embarrassed despite the fact that he never got off on being teased or degraded before. Something about Lucifer's tone made him feel like it was true which made him grow heavy with arousal

Lucifer sank his teeth into the junction of his shoulder and Alastor cried out in pain and also pleasure. Over a span of 5 minutes Lucifer bit and kissed and sucked until he reached Alastors underwear soaking wet and forming around his now very erect cock. Lucifer pulled the underwear off next. "Are you ready for me?" Lucifer asked with a playful tone on his tongue. Alastor nodded. "Use your words bellhop"

Alastor began to sweat a bit from how turned he was. "Yes" he responded. "So needy. If you want it that bad. Tell me exactly what you want. Don't hold back now" Lucifer was really good at this. "I-I want you to fuck me" Alastor said with his face fully flushed. Lucifer chuckled. "All in due time. But think I wanna taste you in another way. If that's alright with you" Lucifer kissed Alastor inner thigh giving him an obvious hint to what he meant. "Yes, do it" Alastor grunted. "Well aren't you excited. Then I won't keep you waiting" Lucifer pulled his underwear off and gazed upon the radio demon's dick. Alastor could hear him lick his lips. As long as he known Lucifer (which admittedly wasn't very long) he had never seen such a depraved side of him. To be fair he wasn't actually "seeing" anything. But that made it all more exciting.

He felt Lucifer kiss the tip and the feeling was intense. Lucifer was going slow. Most likely to tease him further. He slowly took in the tip, swirling his tongue over it until it was in his mouth and then he sucked and bobbed softly, taking him in inch by inch. Alastor was now sweating profusely and starting to whimper. No one had ever seen him in a state like this before. And it made him feel vulnerable but in a good way. In a freeing way

Lucifer finally had his cock fully in his mouth to the hilt. He gagged a little but moaned after. He seemed to enjoy it. Alastor wondered how long it been since he'd been with another man and if ever but once Lucifer really got started it was clear he'd done this before. He bobbed his head up and down. Pulling back and forth. Making good use of his tongue and swallowing any precum that Alastors cock produced. He started going faster and faster. Alastor felt a coil building in his stomach. Now he had climaxed before but only with himself. This was very new to him

And as Lucifer sucked in and out like it was his last meal Alastor felt the coil build more and more and tighten. Finally Lucifer sped up even more and it burst and Alastor shot a hot load down Lucifers throat. Lucifer swallowed it all down. Alastor felt his heart racing as he breathed rapidly. His breathing started to slow but soon Lucifer lifted his legs into the air. "You still want me to fuck you right?" He asked. "Y-yes" Alastor replied with his shaky breath. "Good" Lucifer huffed before spreading Alastor legs as far as he could

Alastor could hear something being squirted out of a bottle. "What is that?" Alastor asked. "It's lube. Have you ever put something up your ass before?" Lucifer asked. "I did but it wasn't the best experience. And I've never heard of lube" Alastor confessed. "You tried it without lube? No wonder it wasn't a good time. Don't worry. I'll make sure to use lots and start small. If anything hurts tell me" he said and Alastor agreed.

First thing he felt was a gooey finger. Alastor never realized how tight his butthole was. And Lucifer didn't even have to put it all the way in for him to feel so full. Although it was a pleasant feeling. Lucifer waited and waited and finally pulled out. He reapplied the lubricant and pushed it back in the same depth except this time he started slowly going in and out. The feeling of the finger entering and re-entering his entrance made him wish he had done it right when he tried it before.

Lucifer removed his finger, relubed and this time went deeper. Lucifer waited again for Alastor to adjust. Once he did, Lucifer began thrusting in and out slowly but going deeper each time. Alastor moaned at the pleasure. Especially when it hit his prostate. He felt his cock growing slightly erect again. Lucifer began thrusting faster. The feeling was overwhelmingly good. Lucifer removed his finger and returned with now 2 lubed up fingers. He once again took his time going slow and shallow before going faster and deeper. And relubing frequently. Alastor's ass was covered at this point but he didn't mind. The way Lucifer's now 3 FINGERS slid in and out with ease felt like heaven (which Alastor didn't think he'd ever experience).

Finally with lube dripping down his cheeks and his cock fully hard again, Lucifer spoke." Are you ready for me to fill you up?" Lucifer asked. "Yes!" Alastor practically called out. "Well it seems like you are as excited as I am and I haven't even cum yet" he teased. He lubed up his dick and slowly penetrated Alastor ass. This was still a stretch despite how much prepping Lucifer had done. But it did not hurt and the stretch was delicious. Lucifer like he did before with his fingers was slow and patient. As he went deeper he finally sank in fully and Alastor couldn't believe he could fit something this big inside him. After giving Alastor plenty of time to adjust Lucifer began thrusting

Alastor quickly became overstimulated but he didn't want it to stop. He whined and mewled and made a long list of lewd unholy sounds combined with the occasional "fuck" and shout of Lucifer's name. "I love hearing you like this. Say my name again" Lucifers voice cut in as smooth as butter. "Lucifer!" Alastor called out. Lucifer picked up the pace. Alastor could tell he was close. He was too. Alastor felt his cock twitching and turning red as he called out Lucifer's name again. "LUCIFER!!!" and Lucifer grew faster and sloppier. Rutting into Alastor with a brutal pace. Finally Alastor felt the coil build back up in his gut, grow tighter and tighter and burst.

Alastor came all over his own belly and Lucifer came inside him shortly after. The heat shooting into him. He pulled out and fell beside him. Their breaths were both almost manic. Alastor's chest heaved and he felt Lucifer remove his blindfold and untie him. He turned to see a tired, messy haired angel smiling at him. No wonder his wife left her husband for him. He was like a beautiful illusion.

"So... was that a good lesson?" Lucifer asked. Alastor grinned at him. "It certainly was. Although I don't think our student teacher relationship is quite appropriate do you?" He joked. Lucifer chuckled. "Well if you're looking to make some extra credit, I'll be happy to do this again sometime." He played along. "I would too" Alastor responded. And he in the spur of the moment he pulled Lucifer closely, grabbed his chin and kissed him.

No tongue as before but he kissed as passionately as Lucifer did. Proof that he did learn from this experience. When he pulled away he saw the king blushing gold and completely flustered. "I didn't think with my inexperience I would be able fluster you your majesty" Alastor teased. "Oh shut up!" Lucifer laughed as he threw a pillow at him

"That's no way to talk to your teacher"

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor

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