#even the plushes are on there because i plan to learn how to make them weighted/scented down the line and make a tutorial for patreon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p0orbaby · 7 months ago

Text

A Tide of Tender Mercies

summary: oh, no, i think i’m in love with you

warning: SMUT 18+, oral, fingering (alexia receiving), some angst, reader being stubborn af

a/n: thank you to @muffinpink02 for helping navigate the sexy part ! also i’ve deffo repeated some bits but i cannot for the life of me be bothered to sort it out

word count: 7k

part 1

The chalet is…well, perfect. It’s the kind of perfect that only comes from meticulous planning, obsessive list-making, and a kind of restrained indulgence that most people would never understand. Set high above a tiny Swiss village known for its fondue and twenty-something millionaires, it sits against a backdrop of mountains sharp enough to slice the clouds. The exterior is severe, almost aggressively minimalistic: crisp white stucco, blackened wood shutters, and glass doors that could double as showroom installations. The effect is daunting, beautiful, and—if you’re being honest—a bit over-the-top. You chose it, naturally, because it’s the type of place where “just a fling” can occur without a single hint of domesticity.

Inside, everything is pristine, hand-selected, curated to within an inch of its life. You were adamant that the linens be Egyptian cotton, but not the gaudy kind; they’re 800-thread count, light enough to seem insubstantial but woven to feel solid, unyielding. They’re arranged in clinical folds on the bed, starched and pressed in a way that suggests they’re almost afraid to be touched. You’ll mess them up later, but for now, they’re an artwork of restraint.

And then there are the wines, selected with the sort of care that would make a sommelier weep. It’s silly, of course—Alexia doesn’t normally drink during the season, so she will hardly glance at the labels, but you’ve assembled an array that hints at depth nonetheless. An entire wall of Swiss Chasselas, a few rare vintages from Bordeaux, and an stupidly expensive pinot noir that tastes like dirt but cost enough to suggest you know what you’re doing. The idea is that if she gives in to something sophisticated, she’ll find it here. If she doesn’t, you’ll find her something else. Something that says you’ve thought of everything. Which, of course, you have.

The whole thing has a sort of perverse charm, really, how every detail has been obsessively pre-arranged to ensure that she knows you’re not in this for anything serious. And yet, here you are, flying her across Europe to the kind of setting people book for anniversaries and life-altering proposals.

There’s a sort of humour in it, if you’re willing to look. You even laugh to yourself, laying out the spa towels in the bathroom—too thick, too plush, a little too “I love you”—knowing full well she won’t notice them. She’ll think of them as “towels,” and if she does notice, it’ll be because she needs a new one. But that’s fine. It’s all part of the performance, all part of the thing you’ve constructed around this chalet, around her arrival, around the notion that this is—what? Casual? Fun? Whatever word fits it neatly enough to deny what you’re feeling.

And then there are the candles. Oh, God, the candles. You tried to keep them simple, restrained, the kind of scents that evoke a distant memory rather than a specific moment. Sandalwood, bergamot, a flicker of pine; nothing too floral, nothing that says “romance,” but hints of something just familiar enough to feel safe. You even toyed with the idea of an unscented option, just in case the pine felt too… suggestive. It’s ridiculous, but you’ve learned to lean into it, to control it, to package it neatly. If it’s planned, then it’s deliberate, and if it’s deliberate, then it’s just for fun.

“Why all this?” you imagine her saying, eyebrows raised, maybe laughing as she notices the excessive stock of Swiss chocolates in the cabinet. You have them lined up in neat rows, the artisan kind—no corner-shop Toblerone here—and each one is individually wrapped in foil that gleams in the dim kitchen light. You picture her rolling her eyes at the small mountain of truffle boxes, asking if you’ve stocked up for a wedding. And you, of course, would shrug it off, offering some deadpan line about Swiss tourism. Or a joke about Swiss efficiency. Or something suitably bland that keeps the tone right where you want it—on the edge of humour, a step away from real. You’ve prepared for every reaction, really. Which is pointless, because she hasn’t even arrived yet.

It’s the first time she’s been here. The place is new, purchased after a very well-timed therapy session that conveniently rebranded “self-indulgence” as “self-care.” The therapist’s exact words were “If you want to be your best self, find the spaces that let you breathe.” And you took that literally, flying up here for private viewings until this place caught your eye. Well, maybe not your eye. But it was one of those rare places that looked exactly like the pictures, maybe better, and it had the kind of aesthetic that screams “I need nothing from you” while begging for a sense of purpose. You bought it almost instantly.

And now, after weeks of fine-tuning, she’ll be here soon. You catch yourself arranging the books on the side table, pausing over which titles to leave out—a mix of philosophy and modern fiction that says “I read but don’t take it too seriously.” You laugh to yourself at the pretension of it, yet you leave the carefully selected titles exactly as they are.

It’s silly, really, because the goal here is detachment, the freedom to keep things light and uncomplicated. You tell yourself that as you straighten the pillows on the sofa for the second time, catching your own eye in the polished mirror that hangs in the foyer.

“You’re being weird,” you say out loud, imagining her walking in, that quick smile flashing, eyebrows raised in a way that says, “Is this all for me?” You picture her laughing, maybe rolling those pretty green eyes of hers. But you have an answer for that too, prepared in advance, a casual shrug.

“Just a little atmosphere,” you’ll say, as if it’s nothing.

You check your watch. Thirty-two minutes until Alexia arrives. Thirty-two minutes to double-check that every single minutely considered, utterly detached detail says, I couldn’t care less—or, more precisely, I care in exactly the right amount of less. Because she needs to know that this is nothing. That this trip to an over-the-top chalet overlooking a town mostly inhabited by 19-year-olds in cashmere is simply an exercise in relaxation, togetherness, a concept you’re fairly sure you’re allergic to.

She doesn’t know it yet, but you bought the place partly to show her. Partly to remind her, subtly, that she could disappear tomorrow and you’d still have this. Because that’s the problem with Alexia, isn’t it? She’s not really yours. She’s something you can enjoy, display even, but never own. The complete opposite of the real estate you’ve added to your collection. You stand there, glass in hand, the Lagavulin you’ve graciously poured yourself warming your fingers through the crystal, staring out at the Alps with the vague thought that an obscene number of people have had their ashes scattered here, somewhere along this ridgeline. It’s an unsettling idea you rather enjoy.

She texts, something about a delay on the tarmac, and you stare at the message for a beat too long, analysing the exact wording like you’re looking for hidden subtext. As if there could be subtext in the word “delayed.”

A casual fling, you remind yourself, should never be complicated by subtext.

To pass the time, you scan the kitchen once again. The coffee is fresh-ground, of course, from a bag that cost as much as an entire year’s supply from anywhere normal. It’s pre-portioned in tiny glass canisters your assistant found online that look like vintage apothecary jars. The labels are printed in Helvetica Neue because you once read that it’s a ‘subtly superior’ font. Ridiculous. But also, it’s perfect. There’s also a miniature mountain of imported Spanish oranges on the counter, carefully arranged in a hammered copper bowl you don’t remember buying. You could make mimosas, you think, if you didn’t know she’ll insist on starting with a protein shake instead.

You put a bottle of Alpine mineral water in the fridge just for her, chilled to the exact 4.4°C she prefers. Yes, it’s an oddly specific temperature preference. No, she didn’t tell you directly. You overheard her mention it once, offhand, to someone else. Which is exactly why you’re bound to a polite indifference if she asks why it’s there. It’s simply what the fridge was set to. Nothing personal.

Just the thought of her walking in has you adjusting your posture as if she’s already watching. Alexia doesn’t miss a single detail. Once, she commented on the way you have a tendency to pull your sleeves over your hands. You haven’t done it since. Now, you check that every piece of clothing you’ve chosen is deliberately, carelessly oversized—but only to the point that still reads as flattering.

Then, at last, you hear the crunch of tyres on gravel. You scurry to watch from the window as she steps out of the car you sent, and she’s immediately caught in that glacial alpine light, her features so stark and defined that it’s almost cinematic. There’s a sharp thrill—one you won’t admit to yourself—in seeing her here, framed against this scene like she’s the final piece in some high-budget film. The coat she’s wearing is slightly too large, lending her a relaxed, indifferent air, as if she’d picked up the first thing she saw on her way out the door. Effortless, in that way that would feel studied on anyone else.

You stand back from the window just before she glances up, retreating into the comfort of shadows. Timing is everything. You’ve thought this through, down to each calculated second. It’s critical, after all, that she finds you not watching, but instead lingering at a perfect remove, preferably with a slight air of distraction. You’re aiming for a kind of aloofness, as if her arrival is the least interesting event of the day.

She’s about to ring the bell when you move, deliberately slow, to the door, letting it swing open just as she raises her hand. There’s a brief, barely perceptible pause as her eyes meet yours, a spark of something unspoken passing between you both before she raises an eyebrow, a look that hovers between amusement and challenge.

“Missed me?” she asks, dryly, though there’s a glint in her eye that suggests she’s perfectly aware of what she’s doing. She’s close now, close enough that you can catch the faintest whiff of her perfume, something dark and woody and just the right side of familiar.

You tilt your head, giving her a slow once-over, and shrug. “Not especially,” you say, voice low, careful to keep the tone perfectly flat. But you let your gaze linger just a second too long on her collarbone, barely visible where her coat has slipped slightly, enough to make her catch it, her mouth curling up at the edge. It’s a deliberate game, one you’ve both played a hundred times, each move rehearsed, practised to the point of art.

She’s barely through the door when you feel it—that unmistakable tension, thickening the air between you. It’s almost tangible, a static hum just beneath the surface of polite conversation, something that pulls at you like gravity. The moment feels precarious, balanced on the edge of something you’re not quite willing to name, because if you wait too long, the feeling will settle into something more familiar. Something too close to comfort, which is the last thing you want.

She doesn’t seem to notice it, of course, her mind likely on dinner plans or the slow crawl of the evening. You, however, are already teetering at the edge of patience, every nerve just slightly too aware of her. She walks in, drops her bag by the door with a casual grace that feels almost too natural, like she’s done this a hundred times, like she could do this forever if you asked her to. And you wonder if you’d even want that—something so predictably domestic, the quiet comfort of a routine. No. You want her in ways that defy that kind of simplicity, in a way that doesn’t ask permission.

You watch her from the corner of your eye as she takes in the room. Her eyes linger on the minimal, curated details you agonised over: the leather-bound books you never plan to read, the art on the walls meant to suggest a taste for something more sophisticated than it is. She’s oblivious, seemingly caught up in the novelty of the place, and that’s exactly what you intended. She can’t know how meticulously you set the scene, how every pillow and chair is positioned with an almost obsessive precision. All she has to do is be here. You’ll take care of the rest.

There’s a slow, unhurried quality to her movements, an ease that’s infuriating because it’s so at odds with the pulse of urgency rising in you. She wanders over to the fireplace, running her hand along the mantel with a soft, idle curiosity. Her fingers trace over the edge of a photograph you don’t remember putting there, something abstract and distant, chosen for the way it says absolutely nothing about you. It’s maddening, really, the way she lingers in the space, claiming it without meaning to, as if her very presence could overwrite the hours you spent constructing it.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” she says, her voice light, unaware of the way it cuts through the silence with a sharpness that’s almost physical. There’s a half-smile on her face, something unreadable that you can’t quite shake off.

You shrug, adopting an air of disinterest you’ve perfected over the years. “Thought you’d appreciate the change of scenery”

She raises an eyebrow, still oblivious, her focus now on the bust of Venus of Arles by the window. For a second, you want to laugh at the madness of it, how she’s here, right in front of you, while you’re clawing at the edges of your own restraint.

But she’s still gazing around, her fingers brushing the edge of a table as if she has all the time in the world. As if she doesn’t know what you’re holding back. You take a slow breath, exhale, feel the tension coil tighter inside, and think that if you let this linger for even another second, you’ll start to resent the calmness of it, the quiet rhythm that feels too much like waiting. Like settling into something you’re not prepared to face.

“Wine?” You ask in a futile attempt to keep things just this side of civilised. The offer hangs in the air, a thin layer of normalcy that feels like it could snap at any moment, but she only nods, glancing over with a slight smile, one corner of her mouth lifting in that way that’s halfway between polite interest and something more.

“Sure,” she says, her voice smooth, without a hint of awareness. “You pick”

You turn to the wine rack with an exaggerated casualness, scanning bottles you chose with this exact moment in mind. You could explain the notes of every vintage, how each one was picked not because it pairs with any particular food—because let’s face it, dinner’s not exactly on your mind—but because it suggests a kind of sophistication, a subtlety. You choose a bottle of red, something full-bodied and just slightly bitter, almost as if in silent commentary on the situation. You pour, slowly, setting the glass down in front of her with a kind of precision that’s both reverent and clinical. She reaches for it, her fingers grazing the stem, the gesture infuriatingly graceful.

The first sip seems to surprise her. “Good choice,” she murmurs, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the glass.

The silence stretches on just a moment too long, the air thick with something that isn’t quite tension, more like a coiled spring just waiting for one of you to press down. You feel it building as she shifts, glancing around the room, and suddenly, you realise she’s working up to something. There’s a certain deliberateness in the way she moves, a careful consideration in her stare, and you know—know—she didn’t come all this way just to admire the decor.

“Look,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, carrying a weight that tells you she’s not talking about the view. “I’ve been thinking—”

But you can’t—won’t—let her finish. Not when you know exactly what she’s about to say. You cut her off, leaning forward, your tone light, easy, deliberately dismissive. “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to talk, Alexia”

She freezes, mid-sentence, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes, a blend of surprise and—annoyance, maybe? But she masks it quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I thought you’d appreciate me being… honest,” she says slowly, as though testing the waters, watching you carefully.

“Honest? That’s what we’re calling it?” You let a smirk tug at the corner of your mouth, a practiced expression, something designed to be just detached enough to hold everything at arm’s length. “Come on, we’re better than that, aren’t we?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your deflection, but there’s still a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Better than what? Talking?”

Talking. The word hangs in the air, innocent, innocuous, yet loaded in a way that feels heavier than it has any right to. You shift, taking another sip of wine, letting the liquid burn down, hoping it’ll smother the way her eyes feel like they're peeling away all your practiced layers. It’s one thing to enjoy someone’s company, but the feeling creeping in now is something else, something you’re not used to. It feels inconvenient. Like an itch you can’t reach.

You try to fire back, something witty, something cool, but the words catch in your throat, your mind scraping empty. It’s frustrating, the way she’s caught you off guard, how she’s unraveled your carefully crafted reserve without even trying. You reach for your glass again, swirling the wine, stalling for time, anything to avoid that knowing look in her eyes.

But then it dawns on you, like a spark catching flame—there’s still one thing left to do to regain control. Something you can do that would put you back in charge, bring this uncomfortable vulnerability back into something physical, where you excel. You set your glass down, slowly, purposefully, letting the silence stretch taut between you both.

She watches you with that smirk, that trace of challenge, as if daring you to break this moment of stillness.

“Come here,” you say, low and steady, injecting just enough command to leave no room for debate.

“No”

She says it so simply, so carelessly, that for a moment you’re almost convinced you misheard her. It’s infuriating, really, that one little word has the power to throw you so entirely. Your pulse stumbles, and you feel the ground slipping from under you, just enough to catch you off guard.

“Alexia.” You give her a look that’s intended to be definitive, final, but it lands with all the power of a weak threat. Her smirk widens into a full, infuriating smile, the one that says she’s entirely aware of the effect she’s having on you.

“Just hear me out,” she says, with a kind of softness that’s more unnerving than you’d like. “You’re doing that thing. The thing where you turn everything into—” She pauses, gesturing vaguely with her hand, searching for the right word, “—into some kind of performance”

It’s an odd, unnerving feeling, this loss of footing. Normally, you’d have a witty reply ready, something cutting or clever, but instead, you feel like she’s stripped you bare, left you standing there with nothing but honesty, and you hate it.

“So now you’re the expert?” you reply, finally finding your voice, though it sounds sharper than you meant. “Since when do you—”

“Since I started actually falling for you,” she says, cutting you off, her voice low but clear. It’s not even particularly dramatic, the way she says it, and somehow that’s worse. Like she’s not trying to turn it into anything, not expecting any kind of reaction—just stating it as a fact.

You feel a flush rise to your face, and you mask it with another sip of wine, a hasty attempt to cover up the sudden jolt in your chest. She waits, just watches you with that maddening calm, as if giving you all the time in the world to come up with some kind of response.

The air between you feels thick, heavy with something unsaid and unfamiliar. You feel the urge to laugh, to make light of it, anything to disperse this feeling building between you, something dangerously close to vulnerability.

“You don’t have to make this into… whatever this is,” you say, gesturing between you. “Let’s not get sentimental”

“I’m not,” she says, crossing her arms, looking impossibly patient. “I told you I’m just trying to be honest. I thought that was allowed”

“Honest,” you repeat, as though the word itself is foreign. And maybe it is. Honesty has never been the thing you reach for. Honesty is for people who can afford to look foolish, who don’t mind slipping, stumbling a little. Honesty is… unnecessary. And maybe that’s exactly why it’s got you so rattled now.

You set your glass down, more forcefully than intended, and close the distance between you with a deliberate slowness, a silence that says everything you aren’t willing to say out loud. She watches you, unmoving, waiting, that infuriating patience of hers still intact.

“Fine,” you murmur, leaning in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “If youre falling for me, fucking show me”

Her lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile, a flicker of amusement mixed with something warmer, something that makes you feel like you’re the one being dissected here. It’s maddening, really, how effortlessly she manages to get under your skin, slip past all those careful layers. And yet you’re already reaching for her, pulling her closer, desperate to change the pace, to turn this moment into something you can control.

There’s a split second where neither of you move, holding the charged silence like it might be the only thread of control left. And then it snaps. You reach for her, not gently, fingers curling around her wrist with enough force that she has no choice but to be pulled in. Her smirk flickers, only slightly, and there’s something about the momentary surprise in her eyes that makes your grip tighten further, anchoring yourself as much as her. It’s a flash of vulnerability that vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving behind nothing but a thin layer of bravado, one you’re keen to shatter.

You pull her toward you, and the air shifts, that faint hint of uncertainty cracking into something far messier. Your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair with a kind of reckless precision, not even aware of how tightly you’re holding on. You don’t waste time; you’re not even sure there’s time to waste. And as soon as you lean in, catching her mouth with a kiss that’s anything but tentative, you feel her resistance melt, her lips parting under yours with a roughness that’s almost defiant.

She meets you with equal force, as if each clash of mouths, each bruising press of skin, is a way to gain back her own control, and you revel in it, the give-and-take that feels as calculated as it is chaotic. Your hand slips to her jaw, holding her there, your thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth with a kind of ferocity that toes the line between possessive and desperate. You know it’s not going to be gentle; there’s a part of you that doesn’t want it to be.

You’re moving backwards, feeling the edge of the marble island press into your spine, but it doesn’t matter. She’s everywhere, her hands gripping the fabric of your shirt, blunt nails scraping against your skin as if she’s staking a claim, as if she’s finally caught on to the pace you’ve been trying to set and decided to match it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Her words slip out like a slow, deliberate knife cutting through the air between you. The tone, sharp, unfamiliar, though has been the soundtrack to your late-night thoughts. It’s almost as if she knows, like she’s caught you in the act of something that’s always been just below the surface. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes darting between your face and the space between you two, as if trying to read the faintest tremor in your expression. It’s always a game with her, always a step too far.

Yes.

“No,” you manage, your voice betraying you—cracked, thin, like a lie too rehearsed. The words come out wrong, but they come out anyway, forced through a tightening chest.

The moment stretches, each second fracturing, bending and folding into itself. It’s like trying to hold a conversation with a shadow—everything slips just out of reach, and the harder you try to grasp it, the more it seems to twist away, leaving nothing but the sensation of your own breath hitching in your throat. You fucking hate this. You hate the way her fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt, as if trying to remind you of your place, of the expectations that have always followed you both like a silent, mocking echo.

No, you don’t hate her.

Fuck. You love her.

The thought is an ugly, dissonant thing, a weight that doesn’t settle easily, like a slow-moving tide pulling you under. The water’s cold. You can’t feel the bottom. You don’t know which way is up, and the only thing you do know is that, somewhere along the line, you’ve let yourself drown.

Your pulse is almost deafening in your ears, hammering in time with your desperate need for air. There’s something about the way she stands before you—still and deliberate, eyes trained on yours—that makes the room feel smaller, closer. You think you can hear her thoughts. Feel them. It’s maddening, how much she seems to know you, how she’s always known the way you bend. How much she’s learned to manipulate that bend, until you almost forget what it’s like to be anything but this: a response.

You swallow. The taste of her is lingering on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once, like a bad memory. How many times has this happened? You don’t know anymore. The last time feels as far away as the first time—when she leaned in, the weight of her body an invisible promise. But tonight, there’s something different. It’s in the way she watches you, cold, calculating, her fingers still gripping the edges of your shirt, the only real connection between you two in the moment.

She inhales slowly, the rhythm deliberate, like she’s listening to a song you can’t hear. The silence is suffocating.

“You’re lying,” she says, low and accusing, with just enough venom to make you flinch. There’s a tiny smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth, something fleeting, something knowing. You want to reach out, to take her in your hands and pull her close, but the distance between you both feels like a universe. The space feels like a reflection of everything that’s wrong with you: the empty conversations, the meaningless gestures, the ache that’s always there, just beneath the skin. It’s maddening, this tension.

And yet…

You want her. Fuck, you need her. You don’t know if it’s because you love her or because she knows how to make you feel more alive than anything else. She’s become your addiction, your fire, the only thing you can’t quit.

Another shift in the air. Another breath from her, shallow and calculated. It’s not a question anymore, not a challenge—it’s an affirmation. She knows, and you know, too.

You close your eyes for a moment, just long enough to lose yourself in the fleeting memory of something that almost felt like peace. The sound of her voice, the taste of her, the way she touched you. It’s all a blur, a disjointed collection of moments tied together by one inescapable truth: you’ll never be able to walk away.

Not this time.

When your eyes open again, she’s still standing there, eyes not leaving yours, studying you. Everything feels slowed down, almost too slow. Like time is bending around her, twisting the seconds into something thick, sticky. Her gaze doesn’t soften, but it holds you in place, an anchor, a force. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background, the dull tap of your own pulse in your ears.

You don’t speak. Not yet. You don’t need to.

Her fingers slide along your chest, trailing down in that same slow, infuriating pace, until they settle on the edge of your shirt again, the same place they started. She doesn’t look away, her lips curving upward in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

It’s like she’s trying to decide whether you want to hurt her or fuck her. And the problem is, you’re not sure you can tell the difference anymore.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms like that might keep you steady, like that might stop you from doing the one thing you swore you wouldn’t.

Loving something. Someone. Loving Alexia.

“What are you so afraid of?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost gentle, and it’s the softness of it that makes you unravel completely.

You don’t think—you can’t. One second you’re standing there trying to convince yourself you still have your palms wrapped around this situation, and the next they’re on her, pulling her in with a force that’s almost cruel. Your mouth finds hers, hard and unrelenting, and she gasps into the kiss, her fingers clutching at your shirt, wrinkling the silk, as if you might disappear if she doesn’t hold on.

She tastes like spearmint gum and coffee. You imagine her shivering as she steps off the plane, teeth chattering in the wind, and too polite to mention it. But your driver notices, you pay him to notice, so before her luggage is out of the cargo, a café con leche is being pressed into her gloved hands.

It’s not a kiss. Not really. It’s a collision, hard and unrelenting, her mouth crashing into yours with a force that feels like defiance, like she’s daring you to stop pretending. To stop holding yourself together so tightly you’re liable to snap.

Your hands are already on her, pulling her close, so close it feels claustrophobic, but you can’t stop. You can’t make yourself pull away because then you’d have to look at her, really look at her, and confront the unbearable softness in her eyes. You’d have to hear her voice again, saying the one thing you’ve been trying to ignore since she first murmured it like a needle under your skin:

“What are you so afraid of?”

What you’re afraid of is this. Her. The way she’s stripped you bare with no effort at all, no grand gestures or declarations. She’s unravelling you with the weight of her presence, with the simple fact of her being, and you hate it almost as much as you crave it.

Your teeth scrape against her lower lip, harder than you mean to, and she gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. Her nails dig into your shoulders, gripping onto you while you take your rightful place at the helm of this godforsaken dance.

And she’s letting you. Letting you press her against the edge of the table, her legs bumping into the thick, varnished oak. The table was handmade by some artisan you don’t remember the name of, its surface polished to a high gloss that reflects the warm light overhead. You’d spent weeks agonising over the purchase, debating wood grains and finishes with a level of scrutiny that felt absurd even at the time. It’s the kind of thing people like you do when they’re too scared to focus on what matters.

But now it’s just a table. A thing in the way, a thing that’s caught between you and her.

Her jeans catch on the wood as you push her back, and the sound is sharp, cutting through the fog in your head. You hesitate for half a second, your hands hovering at her hips, fingers brushing the cool metal of her belt buckle.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says, her voice low and breathless. It’s not a reproach—it’s almost amused, like she knows exactly what’s going on in your head, and it’s ridiculous to her that you’re trying to wrestle this into something it’s not.

“I’m not thinking at all,” you say, and it’s true. Or it’s a lie. You don’t know anymore, and you don’t care.

The belt comes undone with a soft clink, the leather sliding through the loops of her jeans in one smooth motion. You let it fall to the floor, the sound of it hitting the tile lost beneath the ragged breaths you’re both taking. Your hands are shaking slightly as you undo the button on her jeans, the metal cold against your fingertips.

She doesn’t help you. Doesn’t lift her hips, doesn’t make it easier. She just watches you, her gaze steady and unwavering, like she’s daring you to keep going.

And you do.

You yank the denim down her thighs, your movements jerky, almost frantic, and it’s not until the fabric crumples on the floor that you realise your hands are still trembling. She notices too, her lips twitching into that infuriating half-smile, the one that makes your stomach twist into knots.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice soft but edged with something sharper, something that cuts right through you.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels like a blow to the chest.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and the words make something inside you snap.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down her thighs in one swift, unceremonious motion. The damp lace clings for a moment before it slides free, pooling at her knees before hitting the floor. You don’t stop to think. There’s no room for hesitation here, no space for the doubt that’s been clawing at you since this started.

Her scent hits you first, heady and intoxicating, and for a moment you freeze, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it. But then she moves—just slightly, her hips tilting forward in an unspoken plea—and it’s all the permission you need.

You press your mouth to her, your tongue sliding through her folds with a slow, deliberate pressure that pulls a broken sound from her throat. Her taste is sharp, almost sweet, and it floods your senses in a way that makes you dizzy. Her thighs close around your head instinctively, caging you in, and you let out a low, involuntary groan against her skin.

“Fuck—” Her voice is high and breathy, her fingers digging into your scalp now, hard enough to sting. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”

You don’t. You press deeper, your tongue finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her centre and circling it with a precision you didn’t know you had. She jerks against you, her body arching off the table, and you use the opportunity to slide your hands up her thighs, holding her steady.

The table creaks beneath her, the sound of the wood groaning under her weight mixing with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth against her. It’s filthy and raw, every sense overwhelmed, and you’re not sure if you’re doing this to prove a point or because you can’t bear to stop. Maybe it’s both.

Her head tilts back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat, and you want to mark it, to leave evidence of this all over her skin, but you can’t pull away. Not when she’s gasping your name, her voice breaking like she can’t quite believe what’s happening.

You slide a finger into her, slow at first, just enough to make her hips stutter against your mouth. She’s tight, impossibly so, and you feel her clench around you as you add a second finger, curling them just right. Her moan is loud, sharp, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through you.

“God, you—” She doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t seem capable of forming words anymore, and it sends a twisted sense of satisfaction through you. You focus on her clit again, your tongue moving in quick, precise circles as your fingers work her open, the slick heat of her making it almost too easy.

Her legs tremble around you, and you can feel her getting closer, her breathing turning shallow and erratic. You don’t let up, don’t give her a second to recover, pressing her higher and higher until she breaks with a cry that sounds like your name.

Her whole body shudders, her thighs clamping tight around your head as she rides out her orgasm, and you keep going, drawing it out as long as you can until she’s pushing weakly at your shoulders.

“Enough,” she gasps, her voice wrecked, and you finally pull back, your lips and chin wet with her.

You look up at her, and she’s a mess—her hair sticking to her damp forehead, her chest heaving with every ragged breath. Her eyes meet yours, dark and unreadable, and for a moment neither of you says anything.

Then, slowly, she reaches for you, her hands shaking as she grabs at your jumper and pulls you up to meet her. Her kiss is rough and desperate, her teeth catching on your lower lip, and you realise she’s not done.

Her hands don’t go for your own clothes like you’d expected. Instead, they move to your thighs, her grip firm and commanding, and before you can comprehend what’s happening, she’s lifting you. The sudden change knocks the air out of your lungs, and you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist, locking you against her. The motion is seamless, like she’s done this before—or like she’s always known she could.

You try to tell yourself you hate how easy it feels, but you don’t. You can’t.

Your hands find her shoulders, her jaw, her hair—anything to ground yourself, but nothing works. You’re still dizzy, still untethered, even as her lips crash against yours. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing controlled. Her teeth scrape your bottom lip, her tongue pushes into your mouth like she’s trying to devour you, and you let her because for once you don’t want to think about what comes next.

She’s walking, you realise belatedly, the steady rhythm of her steps making your body rock against hers. It’s disorienting, the way she carries you so easily, like your weight is nothing, like you’re the fragile thing here.

You kiss her harder to prove you’re not, nipping at her lip until she growls low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through you and pulls a small, involuntary moan from your lips. Her hands tighten on you, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, and it sends a sharp thrill up your spine.

The hallway blurs around you, the world narrowing until it’s just her—her mouth on yours, her hands gripping you like she’ll never let go, her body impossibly solid against yours.

When she finally kicks the door open and lays you down on the bed, it feels like surrender. Not hers. Yours.

You don’t realise how tightly you’ve been clinging to her until she pulls back, your fingers still knotted in the collar of her shirt. The fabric wrinkles between your hands, and for a moment you just stare at each other, the room charged with something you don’t have the words to name.

Her eyes are dark, searching, but there’s no smugness, no trace of victory there. Instead, there’s something softer, something that makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with lust.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice low and steady, and it undoes you more than anything else she’s done tonight.

It’s too much. The weight of her words, the way she says them like a promise, like she means it. Your chest tightens, and you shake your head, your fingers releasing her collar to press against her shoulders, keeping her at a distance.

But she doesn’t let you push her away completely. Her hands slide up your sides, gentle now, her touch a sharp contrast to the bruising grip she had on you moments ago. She’s watching you, waiting, like she knows exactly what’s going through your head.

You hate her for it. You hate her because she’s right.

“I can’t…” Your voice cracks, barely audible, and you don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours, her breath warm against your cheek. “You don’t have to,” she says simply, and the honesty in her tone is unbearable.

You want to argue, to fight, to push her away, but your body doesn’t move. You just lay there, your chest heaving, your hands trembling against her. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something vast and unknowable, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

Because this isn’t about sex anymore.

It’s about her, and the way she looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. It’s about the way your body feels like it’s breaking apart under the weight of it, like you’re finally being seen for what you are—what you’ve always been.

A liar. A coward. Someone too afraid to let go, too afraid to feel, too afraid to love.

Her lips brush yours again, soft this time, barely there, and you let out a shaky breath. It’s not enough to drown in. Not yet. But it’s close.

“Let me in,” she whispers, and it’s not a command. It’s an offering.

You close your eyes, and for the first time, you don’t resist.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

477 notes · View notes

miajooz · 4 months ago

Text

★ Do I Wanna Know? ★ (part 2)

overview 𖦹 - After the concert, the drive back to the Airbnb was rough. Things were confessed, especially back in Ellie’s room where you learned how much she was actually obsessed with you.

warnings 𖦹 - obsessive behavior, sub!reader, dom!ellie, thigh riding, fingering r!receiving, darcyphellia, strap usage r!receiving, swearing, dirty talk, first time (reader), throat fucking, ect.

𖦹 8.2k words chapter one here

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

The drive to the Airbnb was a fucking mess. As soon as you got into the car with Ellie, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were in a limousine since Dina and Jesse wanted to feel fancy — their ideas were good for once.

Jesse and Dina were drinking quite a bit, it was an after concert routine. It took the stress off, who would miss such an opportunity? They were on the other side of the limousine, laughing, drinking, and acting like complete clueless idiots. You felt bad for the drivers who had to deal with this shit.

While you and Ellie were in the back, her hand was tracing small circles on your thighs, it was a torturous gesture. You wanted to pounce on her and let her have her way with you, but not in a car, you’d have to wait. Occasionally, she would grab the plush of your thighs instead of caressing them, she wanted to hold your thighs like that and eat you out, she was imagining so many filthy things.

To say Ellie had been wanting this was an understatement, shit, she would’ve initiated something so much sooner if she wasn’t a pussy. Now that things actually bloomed, though, she couldn’t be stopped. She had eyes for you, and she’d make sure you knew that.

Ellie would make sure you know how much she actually liked you, make you feel how much desire she felt for you deep in her core. She’d make you fall apart, completely throw away the dynamic you had for the band. Not even a bullshit band label could save you this time, no, this was serious now.

This wasn’t just a simple crush, it had been years. It was years of yearning and wishing it could be something more, it was years of knowing you felt the same way and having to maintain a degree of self control. But she didn’t need self control anymore, there was no need for that. She thanked Jesse and Dina in her head for this opportunity, she would make the most out of it.

Meanwhile, you were questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself. As someone who was a control freak and liked things to go your way, you didn’t feel very in control. Just the emanation of her seemed so calculated, it was almost as if this was planned.

You didn’t want to overthink it, your stomach was already doing backflips. It was as if your whole body catered to everything you thought she wanted, something inside you wanted to please her. Even as teenagers you had that need deep inside that wanted that validation.

Perhaps it was family issues, perhaps it was just your personality, or maybe it was something deeper. Maybe it was the fact you were so head over heels for Ellie you’d do anything. Learning how to sing to be able to participate in a hobby with her? That was all too easy. These feelings ran so much deeper than you thought, after that kiss you shared in front of that crowd of people, you knew you were absolutely fucked.

Ellie watched your expression, she could see how you were deep in thought. She felt confident, confident because she knew you were thinking about her. 12 years of friendship lead up to this, the wait was worth it.

You looked at Ellie when she grabbed your thigh for the millionth time that moment, it was like she was prying you open — like she wanted to devour you whole but was holding back. That thought made you feel tingly, you wanted her to devour you.

“Come here.” Ellie said, you nearly flinched at the random break in silence. Sure, Jesse and Dina were hollering on the other side of the vehicle, but it was all tuned out in your ears.

“What?” You were confused, you were pressed against her side, what did she mean ‘come here.’ Your knees were pressed together, her arm was draped over your lap while caressing your thighs — you hoped she’d give you a rough idea so you could oblige.

“Come here, y/n.” She said in a raspier voice, under it you could hear need. The kind of need that was simply impatience amplified. It was desire at its finest, and it was all for you.

Before you could even go into action, Ellie was already moving. She wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and pulled you into her lap. Ellie’s grip around your waist was firm as she held you there, trying to get closer to you. You were flush against her, your chest crushing your hands since they were gripping the bagginess of her t-shirt. You adjusted to wrap your arms around her, not able to peel your eyes away from hers. They were so mesmerizing, everything about her mesmerized you.

“Just like that.” Ellie rasped, looking up at you like you were a work of art. In her eyes you were a work of art, an angel that she wanted to herself. A figure that she wanted to make her own, she wanted you to be hers for years. It was pathetic how obsessed she was, but then again, that many years of built up feelings never ended in a pretty fashion.

“Ellie, this should wait. We aren’t even alone yet.” You tried to reason, glancing back to look at Dina and Jesse who were barely conscious. Even if they were passed out drunk, you couldn’t do such ungodly things with other people around.

“Wait, for what? I haven’t done anything, sweetheart.” Oh no, sweetheart. What a name to hear come out of her unfairly perfect lips, it rolled off her tongue so well you were folding. Ellie was thriving, the feeling of your thighs against hers was making her heartbeat quicken.

“Don’t act stupid. You know good and well what you’re doing, where’d your public decency go, huh?” You raised an eyebrow at her, there was no actual seriousness in your voice. It was tender, you were harboring so many emotions at that moment but you didn’t know how to go about expressing them.

Ellie looked amused by this, she scoffed and ran her hands up and down your sides, clicking her tongue, thinking of a smart ass comment to reply with. “My public decency was gone the moment your ass decided we started a band. Or maybe the moment I kissed you on stage earlier.”

She peppered soft kisses down your throat, the feeling made your thighs tingly. Your pulse was out of control, even more so when she graced it with a soft kiss.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting something like this? That band just made it more public, but don’t get me wrong — I love our band” She said against your neck, you could feel her grinning against your skin. The feeling made you hazy, it was addicting.

You let out a gentle sigh, Jesse and Dina were passed out. You didn’t know how far the Airbnb was, but you hoped it was close. “I’ve wanted this too, just as much as you have.”

In response, Ellie clicked her tongue. Just as much as her? You had no idea what you were doing to yourself. There’s no way she’d let such an opportunity slip away, she couldn’t. Not when it was this perfect, not when she could pull you into her lap with no fear of fucking it all up.

“No, baby. You have no idea, do you even know what I’m going to do to you when we get back to that Airbnb?”

You could feel your stomach clench, oh, the woman Ellie was. You wanted to be surprised, but it was worth it to ask since you were in a car for god knows how much longer. “I don’t know, what do you plan on doing?”

The question was practically useless, Ellie would much rather show you anyways. Ellie maneuvered you a bit on her lap, so you were balanced more on one thigh. You tightened your grip on her, afraid you’d fall off the seat and ruin such a moment. Before you could even think further, Ellie started bouncing her leg up and down. Your breath immediately hitched, why now?

“I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I want my name ingrained in your throat when I’m done with you. I’ve wanted to hear you moan my name for years, rest assured, it’ll happen — more than once.” She continued to bounce her knee up and down, it hit your clit deliciously almost every time. It was a small, torturous amount of friction — but it set a pace.

You were breathing heavily, it wasn’t enough friction to make you moan, but it was pleasurable. “God dammit, Ellie. What the hell are we?” You questioned in a breathy tone, it was a deep question but the desperation in your voice diminished that negativity.

“Doesn’t matter, that’s an issue for later. There’s no use in overthinking it, you wanna feel good, right?” Ellie questioned in return, you accepted that answer. You weakly nodded in response, your breathy tone was too humiliating.

The bouncing of her leg continued, you couldn’t help but grind on her thigh in response. You didn’t have enough self control, it was impossible to keep your pleasure so limited — you were feeling greedy. Ellie didn’t seem to mind, she grabbed your hips and helped you move, every bounce of her leg made you jolt.

Pleasure started to build now that a good pace was going, more so when the limousine hit a bump — that was too much. You were panting now, the friction on your clit was so good, the wetness in your panties was so noticeable. You could feel the cold slickness against your own folds, thankful that there was a barrier between your cunt and Ellie’s thigh.

“Shh, you have to keep quiet right now. If you’re too loud I’ll stop. I wanna hear you later.” She cooed, her voice so smooth in a way it turned you on more. It’s like she knew exactly what would turn you on, it made you wonder how she knew such information.

At this point you were humping Ellie’s leg like an animal, her hands were placed on your hips tightly so you wouldn’t fall off. All muffles or moans that dared to crawl out of your throat were muffled — your face was buried in Ellie’s neck. You felt so good, and Ellie was practically drooling upon seeing you act so desperate, she loved seeing you chase your pleasure like that.

All was well until the car came to an abrupt stop — you were sure you were parked outside the Airbnb. Jesse and Dina felt the stop, they awakened but were too far gone to look in your direction yet. The whole car smelt like alcohol, but Ellie’s cologne was the thing you smelt the strongest.

“Stop, baby. Slow down, we’re gonna continue in my room. You can’t cum right now anyways.” Ellie said to you seductively, her breath on your ear made you shiver and clench around nothing. Reluctantly, you got off her lap, watching the driver open the car door. Jesse and Dina looked absolutely wasted, you couldn’t just leave them despite how bad you wanted your best friend to fuck the daylights out of you in that moment.

Dina started scooting towards the exit of the vehicle, you immediately went to help her so she didn’t fall flat on her face. You gently grabbed her arm and looked back at Ellie. “You got Jesse?”

Ellie looked amused, her tongue was on the inside of her cheek as she stood up. “Sure, fucking bottleasses.” She helped Jesse stumble out of the car, nodding to the driver in appreciation. Dina was capable of walking partially by herself, you didn’t know of that was from tolerance or responsibility. When you approached the door, you fumbled with your purse, trying to find where you put the keycard.

It was almost a blessing you couldn’t find it, because Ellie helped. She abandoned Jesse, letting him crash to the floor as she immediately went to help you instead. You heard him yell “Oh shit!” on his way down. You wanted to protest and tell her that she was a dick for letting him fall but you had no time. she stood behind you, your back almost against her chest. “You’re hopeless. I got it.”

She pulled the keycard out of her wallet and reached around you to unlock the door. Once unlocked, she pushed it open and ushered you inside. You were in shambles, you made a mental note to always lose your keycard or key everytime you guys went to the same place.

You and Ellie helped your drunk friends into the house, pulling them towards the couch. You maneuvered Dina to sit on the couch, and Ellie practically pushed Jesse. You looked at her with surprise, shaking your head and sighing.

“Leaving them to sit up like that and sleep, evil. The neck pain tomorrow will be horrendous.” Ellie said. but made no attempts to fix it. You tried your best to situate them more comfortably, but it was impossible.

You clicked your tongue since, glancing at Ellie now. “Well, maybe they’ll come to their senses at three in the morning.” You replied, feeling a bit concerned.

Ellie snaked her arm around your waist, you’d almost forgot what the two of you had planned. Well — no plan — the only plan being you wanted to fuck in Ellie’s bedroom.

“I hope not, you’ll still be screaming at three in the morning.” You felt a shaky sigh leave you, unsure if you’d even make it the 10 feet to the bedroom. That sounded like a rough but also amazing experience. Your thoughts were interrupted when Ellie started pulling you towards the bedroom. You eagerly followed.

As soon as you entered the bedroom and shut the door, both of your restraints had vanished. It was nearly in sync the way you spun to face each other and immediately crash your lips together.

“I need you so bad, Ellie. Please.” You said breathlessly, breaking the kiss to express your need for her. What you were begging for was unknown, you just knew you needed it.

“If you cooperate you’ll get what you want, sweetheart.” She replied, the nickname rolling off her tongue in a sultry way. Your lips crashed against each other again. You wrapped your arms around her, and she wrapped her arms around you in return. Ellie pulled you as close as physically possible, you were on fire at this point. The air was filled with a hot, ambiance, one of sheer need and harbored lust.

You continued to passionately make out, sucking each other’s tongues. You were clawing at the back of her shirt, trying to get a grip but you were unable to. All that restraint and self control was nonexistent, all you could think about is how much you adored Ellie’s tongue down your fucking throat. Ellie had one hand on your lower back and the other on the back of your neck. She was holding you closely with a death grip, practically shoving her tongue down your throat in a ridiculously needy matter. “Mmh, fuck..”

Ellie had always imagined what you’d taste like, how your saliva would taste when it mixed with hers. It was so much better than she imagined, every soft moan, every gasp, it was all so addicting. She didn’t want to pull away, she wanted to make out with you and have no other responsibilities. Perhaps it was the fact that wasn’t possible that made it so pleasurable.

The hand on your neck slid to the back of your head instead, her fingers tangled through your hair. If there was a heaven, this was it. You had both been dreaming about this for so long it made this so much better. You were losing your mind, the sensations were driving you mad. Ellie pulled away for a brief moment, looking over your face. You were both panting heavily, lips red and swollen from the force of your kissing.

“I can’t wait to see how wet you are. That’ll taste so much better.” Ellie tangled her fingers further in your hair, tugging your head back harshly. This earned her a yelp in surprise, but you relished in how it felt to have your hair pulled like that. She had a tight grip on your hair, as she kissed the corner of your mouth a couple times. From there, her lips traveled down to your jawline and neck, leaving soft kisses and occasionally bites.

Ellie placed a gentle kiss on your pulse, her lips lingering there for awhile. After stalling for a moment, she bit down on the skin and sucked on it, working to leave a hickey right on your pulse. Your hands immediately flew to the back of her head, unable to see her. You didn’t have to see her to know that she was smiling, you could feel it. It was almost sadistic how much she got off from that. She loved the way your slightly pained gasp crept out of your throat.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been to do this? Do you know how long I’ve wanted to ruin your perfect neck?” She asked, her voice slightly muffled by your collarbone. You felt so hazy, your mind was clouded with lust. The question was hard to process, all you could focus on was the needy ache in your cunt.

Ellie smiled against your neck again, giving your hair a hard tug. That action elicited a yelp from you, the stinging on your scalp was there. She cupped your cheeks with one hand, pulling your face down to look at her in the eyes. She was enjoying this far too much — this isn’t how you thought it’d go, but you weren’t complaining.

“I asked you a question, baby.” She almost condescendingly. This was so different from the Ellie you knew, now that it was like this — things would never be the same. “Are you speechless from a hickey? What kind of people have you been fucking? You poor thing.” She was so obviously teasing you, and you loved it.

“I don’t..I don’t know..” You managed, a response to her first question. Ellie tugged your hair again and you moaned, she fucking loved that. That moan, she had been fantasizing about that for so long. she backed you up closer to a wall so she could slide her leg between your thighs. You were falling apart, you couldn’t imagine how it’d be when you two got further.

“You don’t know? Really? Years, for years. I’ve fantasized about fucking the shit out of you, I’ve touched myself to the thought more than I care to admit.” You were shocked to hear her confess such a personal thing, but a secret like that wasn’t relevant to keep anymore. Not at this point.

Since you were confessing now, you had something to say too. “I hump my pillow sometimes and pretend it’s you.” You confessed, not much shame in your voice. Ellie seemed satisfied, her leg pressing against your clothed cunt with a satisfying amount of pressure.

“Is that right? That’s all? You’re gonna make me feel bad..” She laughed, placing another soft kiss on your neck, she roughly grabbed you and pushed you towards the bed — you relished in the way she manhandled you. You craved more of it, you’d let her to anything to you. Ellie shoved you down onto the bed, the wind was nearly knocked out of you from the force. She climbed on top of you, fingers caressing your abdomen and the side of your neck.

You were curious now — what else did she do? You were a bit concerned, but interested. “Don’t feel bad, baby. Confess.” Your voice was soothing, and you could see it had an effect on her. Calling her such a name felt so right, even if she was still technically just your best friend. Ellie immediately started to pull up your tanktop, wanting to see you shirtless below her.

“I don’t feel bad, maybe thats the problem.” Her hands were tracing along the edge of your bra gently, it was almost teasing. “I don’t feel bad for the fact I have drawings of you sleeping, or the ones I have of you in that pink bikini you wear every summer.”

You didn’t feel disturbed by her confession, but you felt like she was hiding sometime — she definitely did more. She slid her hands behind your back, you arched your back a bit for easy access. “Drawings? I thought it’d be worse.”

Ellie laughed, her hand moving to unclip the back of your bra. You helped her slide it off, and she threw it across the room. She looked down at your bare chest and whistled, her hands tracing your under boobs. “I mean, I’ve watched you masturbate.”

The way she said it — like it was a normal thing to do. You looked extremely shocked, which Ellie seemed into revel in. She grabbed one of your boobs and gently squeezed it, running her thumb tortuously over your nipple. You let out a soft gasp in response, which only fueled her more.

“Don’t act so surprised. Doing it in the same room as me isn’t subtle.” Ellie said, pinching your nipple gently and getting you to sigh pleasantly. You looked up at her in utter disbelief, she watched you masturbate? The same room — that must’ve been when you first moved in together and both slept in the living room.

You felt so exposed and almost dirty, but that didn’t matter when she was rubbing your nipple and looking at you like you were prey. Plus, a part of you liked the idea of her seeing you in such a way.

“Ellie, that’s..” You started, trying to find the words in your hazy mind. “..Strange”

Ellie’s other hand started to play with your boobs, relishing in the feeling of the skin against her hands and your hard nipples pressed against her palms. “It’s so strange, completely shameful. But I couldn’t help myself, not after seeing your face.”

She shifted her body, moving to bring her face closer to your left nipple. Ellie removed her hand from the bud, replacing it with her tongue. You groaned in response, gently running your hands through her hair.

“And? What did you think when you watched me?” You asked, pushing words out through your heavy breathing.

Ellie looked up a bit from your breasts, her tongue swirling over the bud of your nipple She pulled away for a moment and smiled at you, her tongue pressed against her cheek. “I thought of how I could make you cum so much harder.”

A shiver of arousal ran down your spine and straight to your cunt. Fuck, she had such a way of words when things got heated. This wasn’t the awkward best friend you knew and loved, this was so much different. You’d never thought she’d think of you this way, or even consider wanting to fuck you. But here you were, laying on this bed and letting her play with you.

“Are you gonna back that up? I’ll believe it when I see it.” You challenged, trying to salvage any control you had.

Ellie laughed, pinching your nipple harder and making you whine and writhe under her hands. “Oh you have no idea.” She gently kneaded your breast in her hand. “I’ve always wanted to see how soaked I could get you, or see juices just fucking spill out of you.”

She moved a hand down and pressed on your clothed cunt, slipping her hand under the waistband of your pants. She placed two fingers on your cloth covered cunt, her fingers gliding up and down — feeling the wetness. You writhed, maybe as an attempt to get more friction.

“You’re soaked already, you’re too fucking easy, babe.” Ellie’s voice was so seductively degrading, it made you shiver and clench around nothing. You were panting with need, looking at her like a plant who craves sunlight. Yet instead, you craved her fingers stretching you out. You craved the feeling of those rough, calloused, fingers, in your sopping hole. The roughness of her hands and the soft inside of your gummy like walls would be life changing — you knew it.

“Fuck..” Is all you could manage, though it was mainly just a sigh. Ellie took her hand out of your pants earning her a whine from you involuntarily. She clicked her tongue and moved her hands to the arch of your back, urging you to help maneuver your pants off.

You lifted your hips up and helped her work your pants off, immediately trying to buck your hips towards her so you could feel something. Your clit was throbbing with need, your whole cunt was just pulsing in sheer desire.

Ellie moved further down your body, gripping the plush of your thighs and forcing your legs open further. She looked at the wet spot in your panties and scoffed. “Shit, baby. Is that how bad you want me to fuck you?”

Before you could say anything, Ellie licked a long strip up your panty covered cunt, it was a small taste of you. You writhe and shivered, the whole sensation and sight was unexpected

“Ellie—!” You were cut off by a hand clasped over your mouth. The two of you made eye contact, the tension was so heavy. It was comical the way tension bloomed with the both of you, especially on that stage earlier.

“Shut it, do you want Dina and Jesse to hear how pathetic you are? hm? is that what you want?” she coaxed, placing a small kiss on the spot she licked. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, I’ve only done that with your clean ones.”

Your breath hitched, what was she talking about? You were starting to get the idea that she was much more obsessed than you thought. But a part of you liked it, you’d never felt so desired in your life. Ellie had that effect, though, she always made you feel wanted — in friendly ways that is.

She lifted he head from between your thighs before sliding your panties down with one finger. Ellie almost immediately went back between your legs once your panties were disgraced, but she didn’t throw them like your other clothes. No, she licked the inside now, licking up the wetness you left.

You were in shambles, and Ellie lived for it. It was such a filthy sight, absurd how much she was doing just to get a reaction out of you. It was working, a moan crawled out of your throat from the sight.

After she was done with your panties, she tossed them to the side and gave your pussy the attention. “So pretty, so, so pretty.” she smirked, rubbing her middle finger through your folds. “Just makes me wanna ruin such a pretty thing, it’s too perfect, you know?”

“Ellie..” you breathed, trying to buck your hips towards her. The teasing was driving you insane, but Ellie seemed to have mercy. She started moving slow circles around your clit, torturously slow but you were so thankful to feel something.

“Patience baby.” she could see the way you were clenching around nothing. “Ugh..I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” she purred, not even warning you before starting to work her middle finger into your sopping hole.

You let out a small whine, it felt a bit painful at first — maybe because you’d never actually put anything inside yourself before. Ellie noticed immediately how you whined, or maybe how tight your entrance was.

“Oh, you’ve never done this before, I can feel it. Don’t worry, i got you.” her voice was reassuring, you could see the normal Ellie you knew peaking through.

She pushed her finger further into your pleading pussy, it was easier to adjust to this than you thought. Of course you were a bit tight, but she took it slow. Ellie gently worked her middle finger into and out, slowly, her hand still clasped over your mouth.

“Ellie, Ellie — wait!” you weakly choked out, she stopped and looked at you with a curious expression. Her movements stopped, she was worried she hurt you — but she was so wrong.

The hand was removed from your mouth, so you could talk without being muffled. “I have..something in my bag. It’s in the second pocket..” you said, watching her eyebrow arch up.

“Why? You gotta strap in here or something?” Ellie joked and laughed to herself and pulled her finger out of you, humiliatingly wiping the juices on your stomach. She walked over to your bag on the side of the bed, rummaging through it. Ellie found a box in the second pocket, turning it over to see what it was.

She was soon aware that the joke of a “strap” was not far off, no — you brought a strap. Ellie let out a low whistle and smiled, standing up and walking back over to you with the box in hand.

“Were you planning on fucking me with this, huh?” she teased, looking at you and then the box. You simply nodded in response, feeling the flushness on your cheeks — this was humiliating.

Ellie clicked her tongue, she was enjoying this far too much. “Oh man, that’s embarrassing.” she said, placing the box beside you. “Cus’ I’m gonna ruin you with it instead.” you nearly moaned, she was so vulgar it was agonizing.

She almost immediately plunged her middle finger back into you, eliciting a grunt on your half. “Gotta get you ready for that first, you’re much too tight.” you writhed, it wasn’t enough now — you wanted more.

Ellie took the hint, starting to work her ring finger inside you as well. You could immediately feel the burn and whimpered, she took it slow but her words were still patronizing. “You poor thing. Come on, you know you can take it. Since you wanna be a needy whore, take it.”

All you could do was moan in response, her fingers sliding further into you. Your pussy was sucking her fingers in deliciously, even though it hurt a bit. “Fuck..Ellie..” you sighed, adjusting to her fingers stuffing you as your walls clenched them tightly.

Ellie started to work her fingers in and out of you, torturously slow. She watched the way your pussy sucked in her fingers, the sight was filthy. “You and your pussy are fucking greedy. I’ve wanted to see you stretch around my fingers for so long.”

Once she saw it wasn’t hurting you anymore, she started moving her fingers faster. She couldn’t control herself, she wanted to ruin you. You were starting to moan now, the feeling of her fingers stretching you was heavenly. If this was a lot for you, you were scared for the strap.

You were being far too noisy, Ellie couldn’t risk this moment getting ruined. She brought her other hand up to your lips and shoved her pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You grunted, nearly gagging as she did so.

“Suck that and stay quiet.” she ordered, all you could do was pathetically comply. You sucked on her fingers to try and silence yourself, occasionally biting down. Ellie continued to work you, the room was filled with filthy squelching sounds from your walls suctioning to her calloused fingers. She leaned down again and licked your clit.

You writhed, almost taking her fingers out of your mouth. Your moans were muffled, whenever you almost unlatched to her fingers, she’d push them further back and make you gag.

Ellie continued to lick and kiss your clit, you were so overwhelmed in the best way possible. Your thighs were trembling as she ruined you, the feeling of her fingers inside you would be imprinted forever. She curled her fingers and hit something devastating, you gasped and bit down on her fingers. Your back arched up slightly, and you could feel her lips curve into a smile on your clit.

“That good, huh? You like that?” Ellie proceeded to abuse that spot, pumping her fingers and hitting that spot roughly every time. You were seeing stars, your tongue swirling around the fingers in your mouth. You could feel a coil in your stomach tightening, you were so close.

“You close? Keep clenching like that, baby.” she purred, sucking your clit again and continuing to finger you. The sensations were heavenly, you couldn’t even think straight. Ellie curled her fingers inside you over and over again, urging you to finish.

“Quit squirming and cum, come on.” she urged, and that’s all you needed. You rolled your eyes back and arched your back up a bit as you came all over her fingers. You let out a particularly loud gasp, she pushed her fingers down your throat to silence you. She pulled away from your over sensitive clit, but kept pumping her fingers to help you ride it out. Even when you were squirming from overstimulation, she made sure to wring everything she could out of you.

Ellie pulled her fingers out with a humiliating plop, watching you pant and catch your breath. She pulled her fingers out of your mouth and dragged the saliva down your jawline.

“Holy shit..holy shit” you breathed, making eye contact with Ellie again. She looked extremely satisfied, almost hungry from watching you. The fingers that were covered in your juices were plopped into her mouth, you watched as she sucked the fluid off.

“I can’t wait to see you stretch around something bigger. This is literally almost all my wet dreams in one..” she said after pulling her fingers out of her mouth — clean. She looked at you like she wanted to fuck your brains out, you knew she did.

Ellie was kissing you again in no time, trying to work you up again. She ran her hands up and down your body, kissing you like it was second nature. You kissed back of course, your tongues swirling together messily. Despite your slight exhaustion, you wanted more. No, you craved more, something made you want to please Ellie in a way.

As she was kissing you, she slapped your sensitive cunt. You whimpered loudly into the kiss, you were so sensitive it was painful. Ellie eventually pulled away from you with a final kiss to the side of your mouth. She was already thinking of the ways she would make you squirm. In her head she cursed Dina and Jesse for being in the next room, she wanted to hear you scream her name.

“Baby, you wanna do something for me?” she cooed, looking at you with an almost mockingly tender expression.

Your stomach clenched with need, of course, how could you say no? You’d do practically anything for her at this point. “Mhm?”

Ellie looked satisfied by your agreement, gently running one hand down her body while the other reached for the box containing the strap. “I want you to touch yourself while you wait for me to get this ready. You’ll do that for me, yeah?” she looked at you expectantly and stopped caressing you.

Your breath hitched, nearly groaning in response to her words. “yes, I can do that..” Your hand slid down your body to your presoaked cunt, running a finger through your folds. She watched in satisfaction, she watched you masturbate before but she never got to see your pussy respond to it.

Ellie immediately worked to unbox the strap, pulling it out of the confinements and smirking. It was an almost devilish smirk, you knew this would be rough.

You continued to rub your clit, just trying to make yourself as horny as before — it was working. Two of your fingers slid into your sticky hole, moving slow as if to tease yourself. Ellie seemed to relish the sight, her eyes locked on the way your pussy sucked digits in like that, she was obsessed with it.

Eventually she got the strap unpackaged, holding it towards you with a cocky smile on her face. “Okay, you can stop.” she coaxed. You pulled your fingers out of yourself, looking at her with an enamored expression.

The dildo on the strap was a nice pink color, a stark difference to the darker color pattern on her clothes. Without warning, she held it up to your lips and shoved the silicone in your mouth. You gasped and nearly gagged, your eyes nearly tearing up.

“Fuck..atta girl.” she breathed, pushing the silicone in and out of your mouth. She was trying to soak it with your saliva as some sort of lube, despite you being more than wet enough. It was for her own satisfaction, and the action made you so fucking horny.

Ellie left the silicone cock in your mouth, letting the harness of it weigh your head down ever so slightly. You kept it in your mouth securely, watching as she started to undress yourself. Ellie wasn’t buff, but she was built. The type of built that was exactly your type — you loved her tone arms and faint abs.

After pulling off all her clothes, you were blessed with the sight of her naked body. Ellie never really showed off much skin, so seeing more of her body was heavenly. You nearly moaned at the sight, that silicone dick still in your mouth.

She laughed at your expression, clicking her tongue and pulling the silicone out of your mouth. “You’re too cute, ‘lucky that I’m the one ruining you.” she teased, securing the harness on herself in an impatient matter.

You gulped, eying the strap nervously. It was significantly bigger than her fingers, you knew you’d be stretched. Ellie guided the tip to your folds, teasingly running it up and down and gathering more slick. You bucked your hips despite your nerves, desperate for anything you could get. “Don’t be nervous, baby.”

“Please, Ellie..” you squeaked out desperately, Ellie looked at you to remind you to keep your noises down. You swallowed thickly in anticipation, but tried to relax.

She didn’t warn you before staring to push the tip in, you immediately gasped and wrapped your arms around her. She grinned as she watched you write and tear up — but she paused so she wouldn’t hurt you. “Fuck..you’re taking it so well. Come on baby, just trust me.” she cooed, running a comforting hand down your thigh.

Ellie started to push in further, a few tears rolled down your cheeks as you clawed her back and babbled, muffling a sharp cry against her. She was shushing you, trying to keep you quiet. The stretch was different than her fingers, the stretching was all around and you felt so fucking full. When she bottomed out, she stopped moving for a second.

“You’re doing good, relax yourself. You wanted me to fuck you, right?” She brought her hand up to wipe your tears gently, watching you fall apart. “Do you want it? You have to take it if you wanna cum.” she whispered, her voice was so low and seductive.

“Yes—yes please, Ellie.” you whined, finally adjusting to the feeling of the silicone stretching your pussy, you were fluttering around it. Ellie seemed to enjoy how desperate you were, it definitely gave her a boost of confidence watching you become that needy for her.

When it was clear you were more relaxed, Ellie started moving. She started at a slow pace so she wouldn’t hurt you any more, trying her best to control herself. Ellie reminded herself that she had to get you used to it, then ruin you.

You were babbling softly, starting to feel how good this actually felt. When she saw you were enjoying yourself, she sped up — Fucking you deep and stretching your sobbing hole out. She watched your facial expressions, it was heavenly. Ellie clasped a hand over your mouth, a silent way of telling you to be quiet.

“You’re so fucking needy, look at you. Is it that good?” she said condescendingly, unable to stop herself from ramming into you at a much harsher pace. Your loud moans and babbles were muffled by her hand, you were seeing stars.

“Fuck—Ellie! ‘s good, oh my god—!” you cried out, you were being far too loud but it couldn’t be helped. Ellie was drooling at the sight of you, your head flew back and you looked at the ceiling. She wasn’t having that, she wanted you to watch.

Ellie grabbed the top of your head by your hair and yanked your head up so you could watch her. You yelped and whined, looking at her as tears rolled down your cheeks. “Look at me, look at me or I’ll stop.” she whispered, a cocky smile on her face as you watched her with teary eyes.

“No—don’t stop!” you whined, pornographic noises spilling out of you uncontrollably. Your cunt was clenching around her tightly, she groaned as if she could feel it. The sight of you sucking the silicone in mike that was so hot, she was practically foaming at the mouth.

Eventually she just stopped, you couldn’t even whine in protest before she pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach. You instinctively raised your hips in the air with need, the sudden emptiness was torture. without warning, she plunged back into you with a force that shook the bed. You let out a sharp cry, shoving your face into the pillows pathetically. “Fuck—Ellie!”

Ellie smiled at the sight, she just wanted to see your pussy stretch around her, she loved it. She reached her hand around you and clasped it over your mouth again, pulling your head back and making your back arch for her. “Shit..look at that..” she admired, plunging into you at a rapid pace.

This new angle had you seeing stars, she kept hitting that spongey spot that made you cry out and writhe. You were crying and moaning into her hand, unable to control yourself. The back of the strap was pressing against her clit as she fucked you, making her moan softly. The sound of her moan got you off, your walls clenched around her so tight it almost hurt.

The angle in which she was fucking you was sending you speeding towards release. Ellie noticed, her pace unrelenting. She smirked as she watched you fall apart in her arms, she was close too, since the strap was bumping her clit so hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Ellie, I’m—“ You were cut off by a sharp cry as you finally came, the cry muffled by her death grip on your mouth. The sight of your back arching further and your pussy clamping down on the silicone was enough for Ellie. She groaned and threw her head back a bit, riding it out by slowly moving her hips.

You both just panted for a moment, you were almost completely limp. The exhaustion from the concert beforehand and the fact your best friend just fucked the daylights out of you was a dangerous combination. Ellie let go of your mouth and let your head drop onto the pillow, fully expecting you to pass out.

“You okay?” she questioned, her voice much softer now. When all you did was moan in response, she laughed and caressed your back softly. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•

The next morning, you and Ellie were tangled up in bed together. You were in just panties and a tanktop, while she was in a long sleeve and boxers. Ellie was the first to wake up, she immediately heard noises in the kitchen — oh right, Dina and Jesse.

Ellie looked at your sleeping form, she always loved how you looked when you slept. At your old sleepovers she’d watch you sleep in complete silence, it was just such a satisfying experience.

Eventually she managed to peel her eyes away from you and decided she might as well get up. Her arms moved to untangle your body gently, not wanting to disturb you. She desperately needed coffee, so as soon as she got up she made her way towards the kitchen.

Jesse and Dina were in the kitchen, drinking water and shoveling down Tylenol for their hangovers. They were chatting about the flight tickets for later that day, when their gaze fell on Ellie.

“Morning, gal pal. There’s still coffee in the pot.” Jesse said, raising his coffee mug towards her. Ellie actually found it funny this time and laughed, making her way towards the coffee pot. The whole kitchen of the Airbnb smelt like coffee, it was relaxing. She poured herself a cup of coffee, adding creamer and whatnot to her liking and moving to take a sip.

“Where’s y/n at?” Dina questioned, Ellie nearly choked upon hearing the question. Her memory drifted back to the night before, and bit her cheek as an attempt to stifle that lopsided smirk of hers.

“She’s still asleep, must’ve been tired after the concert.” Ellie responded casually — it was too casual. Jesse and Dina looked at each other, speaking a silent language through eye contact. Dina immediately gasped and Jesse scoffed, their heads snapping towards Ellie

“Oh no fucking way.” Jesse mumbled in amusement.

Ellie tried to act confused, shit.

“YOU FUCKED.” Dina gasped, almost rising out of her seat. Ellie rubbed her face in slight annoyance, of course they knew. Everyone knew it’d happen, plus, it was too hard to keep a secret.

“Yeah we did.” she said — too casual again. Ellie had a shit eating smirk on her face, Jesse whistled and laughed a bit.

“Ooh, lucky girl. Guitar players got a reputation” Jesse commented, taking a sip of his own coffee.

Dina looked between Jesse and Ellie, her eyebrow slightly arched “Wait, have you guys not already slept together?” she was genuinely confused. Silence filled the kitchen as Ellie and Jesse at stared Dina. All of them bursted out laughing, it was loud enough to wake you up for sure.

“Are you crazy?!” Ellie between laughs. All she knew was that that was the first time but not the last.

Not even a minute later you came stumbling out of the room, you were holding onto the wall and looked like you’d been hit by a train. Ellie immediately noticed you and went to help. She wrapped her arm around your waist. “Slow down.” she urged, holding you against her side.

Jesse and Dina had their jaws on the floor, this was too good. They looked at each other and then back at the two of you — they were somehow shocked.

“Jesus, dude. Did you kill our vocalist?” Jesse asked before whistling.

Ellie clicked her tongue and shook her head, ignoring his comment completely. She looked back towards you and put her coffee mug up to your lips so you could take a sip. You took a big sip of the coffee and sighed, too embarrassed to look at anybody but Ellie

“Our flight is at like 4pm, let’s just pack, okay?” Dina said, trying to help ease your embarrassment a bit. Everyone nodded at this, fuck..this was so awkward.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

a.n: this was actually so fun to write i’m drooling. some mistakes may be left because i edited this while tired so i apologize! feel free to leave recs!

@eriiwaii

#ellie williams #lesbian #wlw #ellie smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #tlou part 2 #wlw love

288 notes · View notes

andy-15-07 · 12 days ago

Text

Live, Love, and Leap

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1357| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Hello it wont let me send you a request but Can you write an imagine where Pedro is doing an interview and he defends you two over the age gap and you two having a baby when he said he didn't want to be a daddy. @jellyfishmilkshake

Pedro Pascal sat back in his chair on the softly lit studio set of Morning Lights, the daytime talk show buzzing with anticipation. A muted cityscape projected behind him; hosts Mia Reynolds and Daniel Cho sat opposite, scripts in hand. Across from Pedro was a plush loveseat,reserved, he’d been told, for you, Y/N, arriving shortly.

Pedro adjusted his navy blazer and smiled at the cameras. He’d been on dozens of interviews, but today felt different. You were joining him live, and rumor had already leaked: your ten-year age gap, and tantalizing whispers that you two were expecting a baby. The tabloids would have a field day.

Mia checked her notes. “Pedro, thanks for joining us today. You’re here to chat about your new film, of course,”

Daniel chimed in, “,and some personal news we hear you’re ready to share.” He shot an arch look at Pedro, eyebrows raised.

Pedro laughed. “Well, I’m always happy to talk about the film, but yes,Y/N is about to join us with some news. But first…” He leaned forward, voice easy. “Any questions about the age thing, spoilers for the movie, or how many cups of coffee it takes to wrangle my five a.m. wake-up calls, fire away.”

Mia smiled. “Let’s start personal then. Pedro, you’ve said you never planned to be a father again,”

Pedro nodded, expression guarded. “I did. After the first, I meant it. But as life rolled on, Y/N came along. She upended my carefully laid plans.”

Daniel laughed. “In a good way, we hope?”

Pedro’s eyes softened. “In a very good way. Y/N makes me rethink everything.” He caught himself mid-sentence, noticing the camera angle. “Sorry,hope I’m not too mushy for early morning TV.”

Mia chuckled. “Not at all. Now, your fans are curious: she’s thirty, you’re fifty,does that age difference worry you?”

A slight murmur rippled through the audience, and Pedro lifted a hand. “Let me be clear: age is a number. If you love someone, if you respect their mind, their spirit,why should two digits stand in the way?” He paused for effect. “We learned from each other. I bring my experience; she brings boundless energy. Together, we’re a team.”

Daniel nodded. “Well said. And about that baby,”

Just then, you entered the set, wearing a soft cream dress that hugged your bump. You waved shyly. Pedro smiled broadly, standing to help you into your seat. He kissed your temple, then settled beside you.

Mia beamed. “Welcome! Congratulations to both of you.”

You reached for Pedro’s hand. “Thank you. It’s been… surreal.”

Daniel leaned forward. “Pedro, you once said on Late Night that you ‘didn’t want to be a daddy again.’ What changed?”

Pedro looked at you, then back to Daniel. “I said that because at the time, my plate was full. Then Y/N and I fell in love. And watching her navigate life with such courage and humor… how could I stay on the sidelines?” He shrugged. “I got swept up. Turns out, I do want to be a dad again,especially to this kid.”

You squeezed his hand, eyes bright. “The thought of being a mother was daunting until I saw how excited Pedro got at every ultrasound appointment.” You laughed softly. “He even read Dr. Seuss to my belly.”

The audience “awwwed.” Pedro feigned embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, gotta bond early. I want to be hands-on.”

Mia smiled. “That’s beautiful. But have you faced pushback,people saying you’ll ‘crush her spirit’ or that you’re ‘too old to chase after a toddler’?”

You glanced at Pedro. “A few people.” You shifted in your seat, voice firm. “But we have good friends,some at 30, some at 60,raising kids. Parenting isn’t age-dependent. It’s love-dependent.”

Daniel nodded approvingly. “And Y/N, does the age gap worry you?”

You took a breath. “I won’t deny that sometimes I wonder how we’ll navigate decade-wide life stages,career goals, retirement, health.” You turned to Pedro. “But we talk. We plan. He encourages me professionally,he’s my biggest fan at readings and auditions,and I keep him young. Literally.” You winked at him. “He’s become our neighborhood’s stealth fitness star.”

Pedro laughed. “She’s not lying. She drags me to yoga.”

You giggled. “We do goat yoga.”

The hosts laughed as Pedro pretended to shudder. “Goats everywhere.”

Daniel grinned. “Sounds like the perfect partnership. Now, people love to assign blame to age gaps: ‘He’s midlife crisis,’ or ‘She’s a gold digger.’ How do you handle that?”

Pedro answered smoothly. “By living and loving publicly. Let them speculate. We know the truth,our bond is built on respect, shared dreams, and genuine affection.” He leaned closer, voice low. “We’re partners in every sense: emotionally, creatively, and soon… diaper-changing.”

You laughed. “He’s already practicing.”

Pedro smirked. “My Steadicam skills translate to holding a squirmy baby.”

Mia held up her hand. “Okay, celebrity questions aside,what are you most excited about with parenthood?”

Your smile grew taut with anticipation. “Seeing the world through our child’s eyes. Y/N, you once told me you’d wanted kids but postponed parenthood to build your career.” Pedro squeezed your hand.

You nodded. “I always feared I’d have to choose,family or career. With Pedro, I realize it’s possible to have both. He supports me,I support him. That’s the scary and thrilling part.”

Daniel grinned. “So the rumors that you two will tour the world with a stroller,true?”

Pedro leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Absolutely. Backpack, gear, and baby. We’ll show the little one the Andes, the Alps, the Amalfi Coast. We’re not letting age or opinionated strangers keep us home.”

The audience cheered. Pedro smiled, then turned to you with a soft expression. “Speaking of… do you want to share the baby’s name?”

Your cheeks warmed. “We’ve settled on something meaningful: Alejandro.” You paused. “After my grandfather and after Pedro’s heritage.” Pedro’s eyes glistened.

Mia clapped. “Alejandro Pascal,you have a ring to it.”

Daniel nodded. “Beautiful. Now, just one more question: what’s your advice for couples in non-traditional relationships,age gaps, career differences, whatever?”

Pedro looked proud. “Talk. Communicate. Don’t let fear define you. Hold each other up, listen, and adapt. If you can’t sit down and ask, ‘How do you feel about this?’ you’re missing the point.”

You reached over and squeezed his hand. “And trust in love’s capacity to grow. We’ve seen each other at our worst and still chosen to stay. That’s the real foundation.”

Pedro smiled at you. “And I trust this little one will teach us more than we’ll teach them. That’s the adventure.”

Mia glanced at the clock. “We’re out of time, but thank you,both of you,for sharing this with us. Best of luck with Nightfall, and with parenthood!”

The audience erupted in applause. Pedro rose, offering his arm to you. You stood, smoothing your dress, and walked off-stage arm in arm.

Backstage, the hair-and-makeup team greeted you. Pedro leaned in and whispered, “You were brilliant.”

You sighed happily. “We did it.”

He kissed your temple. “We will. Every step,together.”

Outside the studio, cameras flashed as you exited to strike a joint pose. Photographers shouted congratulations. Pedro held your hand firmly, guiding you toward the waiting car.

Later that evening, nestled on the couch in your apartment, you unpacked the day’s recording on your laptop. Pedro flopped down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m proud of us,” he murmured, kissing your hair.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Me too.”

He pulled back, meeting your eyes. “Age is just a number, kiddo.”

You laughed. “Ten years of wisdom and ten years of foolishness,perfect balance.”

Pedro grinned. “Exactly.”

You leaned up for a kiss. “I love you.”

He smiled against your lips. “I love you too. Can’t wait to see Alejandro.”

Your smile glowed. “Our greatest role yet.”

He wrapped you closer and settled his chin on your shoulder. “Lights, camera, diaper bag.”

You laughed against his neck. “And we’ll ace it. Together.”

Outside, your city lights glittered. Inside, in the warmth of shared triumph and hope, you felt truly home. Whatever critics might say, whatever numbers defined your age, your love,and soon, your family,would always be your greatest story.

111 notes · View notes

achilles-rage · 11 months ago

Text

Oblivious

summary: you're a part of 50 squad, but with street being your best friend, you spend more time with 20 squad. after a rough day at work, street invites you out with the rest of the team. when tan and luca notice you talking to a man at the bar, they take matters into their own hands, knowing that you're both too dense to realize the other's feelings.

word count: 3.1k

request: @heypeople2 - hi! i’d love a friends to lovers fic with street where the reader is on mumford’s swat team, but is friends with all of street’s team and hangs out with them often. maybe two oblivious lovers? if that makes sense!

A/N: i had no idea where i was going with this at first, but i like how it turned out! enjoy<33

TW: none, allusion to smut, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You still remember every single thing that happened on your first day with 50 squad; it was a stressful day, and you weren’t even supposed to go into the field that day because you had suffered a shoulder injury and were still a few days from being cleared for going out into the field. The universe had different plans, however, and both 50 squad and 20 squad were called to the same place. They needed all the people they could get, so you were quick to tell Rocker you could step in. He wasn’t going to let you, not wanting to go against protocol, but the situation was extremely important, so he finally agreed.

You had a group of hostages with you, trying to take them down to the main floor of the building and to safety, when you saw another SWAT agent fall into the hallway a few feet in front of you, who you now know was Street. It was almost a blur how fast you moved, quickly ushering the hostages into the room you were in front of and moving to cover him, taking down the two suspects that had managed to get the upper hand on him.

From that day on, he was smitten. He was impressed by your skill, of course, especially after he learned that you were still injured, but he also thought you were gorgeous. If it wasn’t an active shooter situation, he would’ve had the time to watch your plush body maneuver through the doorway and take down two targets, how strong your thick thighs looked, how your gear clung to your soft belly and chest. Instead, he noticed after all the shooters were taken into custody, when you came over to ask if he was okay in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.

You had noticed how attractive he was too, his broad shoulders, his lean torso. When you went to make sure he was okay, you were asking out of concern, but also because you were curious about him. He immediately continued the conversation when he told you he was alright, wanting to know everything that he could about you, and the rest is history. The rest of 20 squad quickly picked up on this new friendship, noticing the way your eyes would find each other in a room when the other person isn’t looking, and the way you talk to each other. They also quickly realized how truly oblivious you two were, as it seemed that neither of you knew the other person’s feelings.

Now, over a year later, you and Street are best friends, and it’s because of this that you find yourself hanging out with 20 squad more often than 50 squad outside of work, although you still love everyone on your own team.

“Rough day, killer?” you hear from across the parking lot as you step out of the armoured vehicle, groaning softly as you feel the pain in your shoulder. It may have been over a year ago, but after an especially hard day of work, your shoulder still gives you some trouble. It’s nothing some painkillers and a heating pad can’t fix, but until you get home and get them, the dull ache remains.

“You have no idea.” Street chuckles at your response, taking in your figure. He notices the way you’re holding yourself, he’s seen it before, he knows your shoulder is giving you trouble.

“We just got back a few minutes ago, we’re all going to get drinks. A drink or two might help with that.” he tells you, a smirk on his face as you walk over to him, starting to take off your gear.

“Yeah, alright. But it’ll be an early night. Want to share an uber over there? I don’t want to leave my car there overnight.” You want nothing more than to go home and lay on the couch with a heating pad over your injury, but as soon as the option of spending more time with Street appears, you can’t help but say yes. He shakes his head at your words, scoffing.

“I can just take you on my bike. I’m not drinking tonight.” he tells you nonchalantly, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest as he imagines you pressed against him on the back of his bike. He imagines your thick thighs wrapped around him, your torso against his back, even though he knows he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that.

You tense at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You’re imagining the exact same scenario as him, but you can’t help the slight insecurities that race through your brain at the image. Your soft body pressed against his. He’d be able to feel every curve of your body, even the ones you usually keep hidden, knowing that although you’ve grown used to them, and are beginning to like your body again, not everyone likes to see them. You also think of having to sit on the tiny seat of his motorcycle, him having to hold up the bike along with your added weight, and you can’t help the nerves twisting at your insides. Imagining how you’d look squeezed onto the back of his bike is something you really don’t want to have to think about, so you’re quick to respond.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to-” He cuts you off, shaking his head as he speaks.

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to be spending money on an uber when you can just ride with me.” he tells you, but a hopefulness breaks through his features, lighting up his eyes ever so slightly. You pick up on this, and let out a sigh, knowing he won’t let this go. Maybe you can do it just this once, and then tell him it was too scary and you never want to do it again, you think. Maybe then, he won’t ask again.

“Alright, fine. I’m just gonna take a quick shower and change. I’ll meet you out here in 15?” you tell him, smiling softly as he nods. You turn and quickly walk into the building, making your way to the locker room.

The nerves are taking over every inch of your body as you rinse off quickly, your brain going into overdrive as you think about having to ride on Street’s motorcycle. It’s a short distance to the bar you guys usually go to, but it’s still a decent amount of time to be pressed up against Street.

Once you’re showered and changed, you go out to the parking lot, letting out a shaky breath before you get close enough to Street for him to hear it. He notices the way you’re still holding your arm a little awkwardly, and he feels a little bad for inviting you out.

“You take some painkillers already?” he asks softly, worry spreading across his face as you shake your head.

“I ran out. I’ll have to get some on my way home.” He turns and reaches into his bag, taking out a bottle of the same meds he’s seen you use. He never told you, but he went out and bought some when he found out which ones you prefer. He knows how much your shoulder bothers you after rough days, and he wanted to make sure you never have to go without them should you run out.

Your eyes soften as he pulls them out, and you take them from his hands. You take one quickly, then hand them back to him, thanking him softly.

He hands you his spare helmet once he puts the pills back in his bag and gets on, holding a hand out for you to get on behind him.

Your ascent is a little awkward, but you finally manage to get on with his help, your cheeks hot as embarrassment fills your stomach.

He finally starts to drive and you put your arms around his waist tightly, feeling your breath pick up as he turns onto the road. You know he can sometimes be a crazy driver, but he seems to hold back today, perhaps picking up on your nerves.

Street has a hard time focusing on the road as he makes his way to the bar; having you pressed up against him so tight has him fighting every urge to drive right from work to his house and dragging you upstairs to bed. The way your arms are tightly wound around him also gets him a little riled up; how you’re putting so much trust into him. He makes sure to take it easy. If anything were to happen to you because of his driving, he doesn’t think he would ever recover.

When you finally make it to the bar and walk in, Tan and Luca are quick to look over at you two, their eyes immediately going to each other with raised eyebrows as they see the way Street’s hand is on your lower back, and the way you’re looking over at him with twinkling eyes. They’ve been trying to get you two together for months; and they feel like tonight is finally the night they can make it happen. You catch up with the rest of the squad for a few minutes, before you lean to whisper in Street’s ear that you’re going to go get a drink.

“You want me to come with you?” he asks over the music and chatter of the bar, but you shake your head, giving him a soft smile. You tell him you’ll just be a minute before you turn and walk over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with another customer.

“That’s a nice bike you rode in on. What year is it?” you hear a voice beside you speak. You turn with a raised brow, looking up at a man who came into the bar just after you, seeing you getting off of Street’s motorcycle.

“Oh, um, I have no idea.” you tell him, giving him a small smile.

“It’s a nice one, your boyfriend hasn’t told you anything about it?” Your breath catches in your throat at the word boyfriend. You feel embarrassed, but also a sense of pride that he thinks you’re dating him. You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t talk much about it to me.” you admit sheepishly. The man gives you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I just assumed-” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You give him an earnest smile, putting your hand on his arm as you tell him that it’s alright. You can sense he’s a little embarrassed, and that wasn’t your intention. It was an honest mistake.

You’re so focused on the man that you don’t notice that Luca and Tan’s eyes are glued on you the moment the man walks up to you. Smirks break out onto both of their faces as they watch, both of them having the same idea.

“Hey, Street. I think that guy’s trying to steal your girl away from you.” Luca teases Street as he motions over to you at the bar. Street turns in the direction Luca’s pointing at, about to tell him that he doesn’t have a girl, but his words fall short. He looks over just in time for you to give the man a smile as you place your hand on his arm, and he can feel the jealousy bubbling up inside him.

“Yeah, man. You should go get her, before he tries to take her home.” Tan chimes in, smirking as he sees Street’s fists clench at his sides and his jaw clenched. Street is seeing red at this point, imagining you going home with that man instead of him.

He marches over to you quickly, unaware that the rest of the squad’s conversations have died down, and they’re all now looking at the situation unfolding with smirks.

“Hey babe.” he purrs, wrapping his arms around your plush waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He smirks at the man as he sees his brows furrow, feeling like he’s already won, but wanting to take it further.

“Uh, hey, Street. What’s up?” you ask, confusion laced in your voice as you turn your head to look at the side of his face. You’re used to his flirty tendencies, but this is definitely different than you’re used to.

“Just wanted to see if you were ready to go home.” he says in a low tone, kissing your neck softly. His eyes are trained on you, but he watches the man from the corner of his eye, his smirk widening as he sees the confused expression on the man's face and the way he takes a step back from you two.

“What are you talking abou-” You’re cut off by Street’s lips on yours, his hand coming up and using two fingers to tilt your head towards his. Your eyes widen in shock for a moment before you finally return the kiss, closing your eyes. He’s not sure what came over him at that moment. He’s wanted to do that since he met you, and watching you with another guy at a bar finally sent him over the edge. You pull back after a moment, turning back to the man, but realize he’s already walked away. You turn in Street’s arms, your eyebrows raised.

“What was that for?” you ask, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire, still reeling from the short kiss.

“He was flirting with you.” he states, as if that’s the only reason he needs. You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“He wasn’t flirting with me. He was asking about your bike.” It’s his turn to be confused. He stays silent for a moment, starting to think more clearly about what he just did. He kissed you, and you kissed him back, and you weren’t flirting with the man at the bar.

“Oh.” he says softly after a moment, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, his own still wrapped firmly around your waist despite his racing thoughts.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Why did you do that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him. You think you saw jealousy in his eyes as he approached, but you’re afraid that you’re just seeing what you want to see.

“I don’t know. I had to. I don’t want to see you with someone else.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. Your drink is long forgotten now as your heart seems to beat louder. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Why not?” You match his volume, and he almost has to bend down to hear you. He can see the glimmer of hope in your eyes, and he thinks that since he’s already gotten this far, he should just tell you the truth.

“I want you all to myself.” he states, smirking as he sees your eyes widen. Your lips part slightly as you try to think of what to say. He’s your best friend, and as deep as your feelings are for him, you’ve never had trouble speaking to him until now.

His eyes search yours as he waits for your response, and he sees the way your lips are beginning to twitch up into a smile and the way your eyes flicker down to his lips for half a second, so he takes his chance.

His lips meet yours again in a soft kiss, and it takes everything in him not to push you against the bar and take you right there. One of his hands reaches up to your jaw, tilting your head up into the kiss, deepening it. He smiles against your lips as you let out a soft whimper, and his other hand moves to squeeze your hip softly.

Your mind is reeling as you kiss him, and you’re not even worried about the way his body is pressed against yours as you get lost in the kiss. It’s not until you hear a loud clinking of a group cheersing their drinks that you pull back, breathing heavily. You have matching grins on your face as you stare into each other's eyes. Street’s eyes dart around the room before they land back on you. He leans in and whispers in your ear.

“You want to get out of here?” You bite your lip as you nod, neither of you even bothering to say goodbye to the squad as you make your way to the door.

The team have been watching the whole time, and they all fight back cheers as they finally see you two give in to one another. Chris chuckles as she watches you two leave, nudging Tan’s shoulder as she speaks.

“Finally. I was beginning to think your ideas were trash.” she teases him, which makes him shrug with a smile.

“They’re both idiots, but they’re perfect for each other, I guess.” The rest of the team agrees with Tan, and their conversations slowly move away from you two to other things, but none of them can wait to tease you two tomorrow.

When you get back to Street’s apartment, he immediately pushes you against the wall, his hands moving to your face as his lips meet yours in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his chest as he slots his knee between your legs, making your whimper softly.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he murmurs against your lips, hands going down and clawing at the hem of your shirt, desperate to see all of you.

You smile against his lips, raising your arms as he pulls your shirt over your head. His lips are back on your in an instant, trailing down your neck to your chest. He nips and sucks at the exposed parts of your chest, and you tilt your head back to give him more access, one hand traveling to the back of his head.

“Please.” you manage to get out through pants, and that’s all he needs to haphazardly guide you down the hall to his bedroom. You bump into a few things on the way, but as soon as he has you sprawled out on his bed, everything else in the world is forgotten.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @sarahsmi13s @relatednative @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @sporadicmakerwerewolf @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @buckandeddiesverison @love-kha1 @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @officiallyalbino @wanniiieeee @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in searches or i can’t tag you!)

330 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 13 days ago

Note

Ask is inspired by the other anon ask about monster marriage rituals…

Do you think any monster baby shower rituals exist?

For humans, there’s stuff like gender reveal parties, maternity photo shoots, etc. So what do monsters do to celebrate the arrival of a new monster?

I love these questions!

Back in the day, in tight-knit monster communities, waiting for a baby wasn’t all that different from how humans did it. A lot of times, it wasn't just the parents getting ready, it was the whole village. There was this strong sense that a new baby belonged to everyone in some way. It was just in their nature to care for the young as the future of their kind.

Elders were always nearby, telling stories, giving advice, and knowing exactly which herbs helped with sleep or what foods to avoid. Younger adults made sure the expecting parents, especially the mother, had everything: food, comfort, safety. If the father was away hunting or busy with some task, no one worried; family, neighbors, everyone stepped in without a second thought.

And when the baby came, that care didn’t stop. Elders helped with the little one, older kids fetched things and learned by doing. Children didn’t grow up with just their parents, they grew up with everyone. There were always hands to catch them, voices to guide them, eyes to watch over them.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. For monsters, it really did.

And as the years went on, and these old clans, packs, and villages started opening up to other kinds of monsters and humans a lot of those traditions stayed the same. The spirit of community, of everyone coming together for a new life, didn’t just vanish.

But there were surprises...

Orcs, for example, were absolutely stunned at how vulnerable human women could seem during pregnancy. Orc women are strong, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, so when the orc husbands saw their human partners going through all the discomfort; fatigue, nausea, and other changes, it was a full-blown panic. And not just from the dads, the entire clan went into protective overdrive. It took time (and some very firm conversations) for them to accept that just because human women didn’t look as tough didn’t mean they weren’t strong. Eventually, they learned that their wives were warriors too just a different kind.

Minotaurs were downright horrified when they found out that, in some human cultures, the men didn’t stay for the birth. They couldn’t wrap their heads around it. Among minotaurs, and honestly, among a lot of other monster folks, it was completely normal and expected for the partner to be right there from the first contraction to the first cry. Not just for emotional support, but for protection, for presence, for love. The idea of leaving felt not just strange, but dishonorable.

The nesting instincts hit the wolf-shifters like a freight train. The moment they knew a baby was on the way, it was all about the den. Comfort became the top priority. If the house needed fixing, expanding, or completely rebuilding, no problem. The women often find half the pack outside, hammering away, building a new room, dragging in furniture, or crafting handmade decorations. It was all about making sure their mate had the safest, softest, warmest place to rest. And rakshasas were pretty much the same. I mean, they’re big cats as I said so many times already. Of course they love cozy spaces, blankets, plush pillows, warm fires, and everything soft. Their partners were treated like royalty; pampered, adored, and surrounded by every comfort imaginable.

Goblins, though? They were a bit of a different story. For them, it was all about planning and information. Is that food safe? Should you be sleeping on your side? What’s the backup plan if labor starts during a storm? They always had plan B, plan C, even a plan Z if it came down to it. Charts, notes, books, little magical contraptions, whatever it took to keep things under control. If something went wrong, you could bet a goblin had already thought of it and written down a solution three weeks ago.

But this big shift (monsters and humans mixing more, communities becoming more open and connected) was the biggest game changer for the monsters who had always lived solitary lives. For some of them, it wasn’t just about starting a family, it was about finally finding one.

Most of the time dragons, nagas, incubi, and succubi lived alone by nature. Some drifted, some guarded their solitude like treasure, and some just didn’t know any other way. So when the world started changing, and they found partners from different cultures, it wasn’t just about welcoming a baby. It was about discovering what it meant to belong to something bigger.

And now, let’s jump into the modern world and focus on these monsters because I’ve got thoughts:

A part of them is still a little shocked by it, even after all these years. Their ancestors lived alone for so long that the instinct to rely only on themselves is still there.

For dragons and nagas, this shift is honestly a huge relief. Having family and friends to lean on, people they trust to help and share in the joy means the world. They don’t have to stay on high alert, guarding their partner like treasure. Now, they know there is a whole circle of loved ones ready to protect, care, and celebrate with them.

Dragons love baby showers. Not just for socializing (though they enjoy that too), but let’s be real; it’s the gifts. Even if they are technically for the baby or the mama, their hoarding instinct kicks in hard. Soft blankets, tiny clothes, bottles in every color? Treasure, and they organize it all with pride. No one blinks when a dragon shows up with a cart overflowing with baby gear. Their oversized car is already packed to the roof with more anyway. By the time the baby arrives, the family has everything, and then some. It’s not unusual to find piles of unworn baby clothes because the little one outgrows them too fast.

Nagas, meanwhile, adore the days after the birth when friends and family visit with warm food and open arms. They are so proud to show off their baby, letting loved ones coo and fuss while they bask in the joy. And if it’s baby number two or three, even better. That just means more love, more laughter, more warmth in their home. Nagas just want to belong, to feel supported through all that change, and not go through it alone.

For succubi, it’s not just about starting families, it’s about not being left behind anymore.

There was a time when no one imagined them settling down. People saw them as desire, not devotion, certainly not "mother or wife material". Back then, desire didn’t always come with loyalty or love.

But things have changed. Now, they are pampered, cared for and seen. Not because someone wants something from them, but because people genuinely care.

And they absolutely love gender reveal parties. Not because of the surprise, really, but because everyone gathers just for them. To celebrate their moment. To share the joy of something real and personal. It’s a room full of smiling faces, laughter, maybe some tears, and for once, they’re the center of attention in a way that’s loving, not lustful.

For incubi, it’s about learning how to be a dad and how to be a real partner, someone who shows up beyond charm or desire. In the past, settling down and building a family wasn’t just unexpected, it was almost unthinkable. No one saw them as the type, and honestly, neither did they.

But now they are all in. They thrive on the structure, the shared life, the steady love. Being a dad gives them purpose in a way nothing else ever did.

And like nagas, they cherish that sweet time after the baby arrives; visits, gifts, loved ones cooing over the newborn. They are proud of the life they’ve built and the role they’ve grown into because now, they have something they never thought they’d get: a family of their own. And it turns out, they’re damn good at it.

So like I said, for some monsters, waiting for a new life wasn’t all that different from how humans did it. But for others, the way their world has changed, the shift in how they live and love, meant everything.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #terat0philliac #sweet asks #terato #monster lover #monsterfucker

85 notes · View notes

intimidating-fettuccine · 7 months ago

Note

How would Candy , Jason and LJ (separately) react if they did something nice for their SO (Complimenting them or giving them a gift) only to have them start crying before they explain to the creeps that it's the nicest thing a partner has ever done for them?

Ps. I hope you're having a good day and taking care of yourself!!!

I love that you picked the three biggest gift givers for this one. I'm taking good care of myself, and I hope you are too! Enjoy :)

Candy:

Candy is a man of many gifts and surprises, as his favorite thing to do in his incredibly long life is surprise people. Candy took his time, however, waiting to fully get to know you in your relationship with him so he could learn the best ways to surprise you, and today was the day he was finally going to enact his plan. He had prepared a lovely little date for you, a picnic in one of the most beautiful groves in the Underworld, comprised of your favorite food and freshly baked sweet treats. Without telling you where he was taking you, he'd whisked you off, picnic basket and blanket in hand, walking you to the beautiful area at the perfect time of day, with the sun bright in the sky so it could shine through all of the trees, making the area beautifully glow. You were so caught off guard by the picturesque surroundings that you hadn't noticed Candy laying out the blanket and placing your favorite food and all of the little treats he'd made onto the blanket until you accidentally bumped into him.

He simply chuckled at you, helping you sit as he dished out the meal for you, picking out the prettiest of desserts as well, handing them to you eagerly as he explained what they were. Overcome by the sweet gestures he was displaying, you couldn't help but begin to cry, something that immediately halted Candy in his tracks. He immediately asked if you were alright, pulling you into his lap so he could hug you and gently rock you back and forth. When you explained your reasoning for the tears, Candy could only frown and hold you tighter, eventually releasing you so he could pepper your face in kisses. He was quick to tell you to prepare yourself, because he was a man of many gifts and surprises, and this just means he's gonna have to surprise you twice as often, he said quite proudly as he puffed out his chest, getting a giggle out of you that softened him and had him nuzzling into your neck. Candy would do whatever he could to show you just how much he absolutely adored you, and he'd give you so many gifts and surprises that you'd get sick of them.

LJ:

If there's one thing Jack is the best at, it's either making plushies or making desserts, both of which he likes to spoil you with as the person he loves most. On this particular day, he had been sitting up in his room, crocheting away as he often did, working on a lovely little surprise for you. He'd already started making candy canes for the season, and it inspired him to make two candy cane colored bears, one for you and one for himself, that way the two of you could match. It didn't take long before he was fully satisfied with their plush, cute designs before he was bounding off to wherever you were, presenting them to you with a smile, and offering you your plush, extra stuffed bear, with freshly made candy canes resting on its arms. Jack hadn't noticed your tears yet, too caught up in his explanation of the different flavors of candy canes until you'd let out a loud hic as you tried to catch your breath. Jack's head snapped toward you in shock, his eyes widening as he quickly scooped you up so you were sitting on one of his arms, and he squeezed you to his chest with the other.

Jack, in his confusion, asked if it was a bad gift and if he had upset you, and in response, you quickly shook your head and told him that it was the nicest gift a partner had ever given you. Jack's mouth flew open and he squeezed you tighter, huffing and stating that he'd have to make you even better plushies then, because this wasn't even close to the best of his work, and he'd do his best to keep surprising you, which only brought more tears from your eyes as you clutched onto him. He told himself he'd have to make you more desserts tonight so he could fill you up with them and try and stop your tears, but for now, he'd take you upstairs to cuddle with your newly made plush. He'd hold himself to it, to make you the biggest and cutest plushes physically possible, because that was the bare minimum of what he thought you deserved, and he'd go above and beyond that for you in any way that he could.

Jason:

If Jason wasn't spoiling you, he wasn't living. This man lived and breathed to make you feel like royalty, and nothing in the world would stop him from doing so. One of Jason's favorite ways of doing so was tailoring you new clothes, clothes that always fit you perfectly and bring out the best of your features. Today was one of those days, as Jason was going to be attending another ball here soon, and he wanted to have you accompany him. He'd made the two of you matching outfits, Jason's being red and representing the sun, and yours being blue and representing the moon and the constellations. It was the most beautiful outfit you'd ever worn, and that already had you ready to cry, but Jason's praise had made you even more overwhelmed.

He couldn't stop gushing over how beautiful you looked, citing that you were more gorgeous than all the stars in the solar system, that nothing in the universe could compare to your beauty, and it had pushed you over the edge until you were covering your face as tears flowed out of you. Jason was quick to pull you to a chair, sitting you down and kneeling in front of you. He'd pulled your hands into his own, pressing smooches along your fingers as he asked you what was wrong, and when you explained, he nearly scoffed, saying it was ridiculous that this was the nicest thing ever done for you, that he could do better. He explained to you that in his eyes, you deserved all the riches in the world, that he believed nothing he could give you would ever be good enough to match how truly spectacular you are. He pulled you forward so he could soothe your cries with kisses, mentally planning 1,000 different ways he could give you something far better than this, far more fitting and wonderful for someone as perfect as you. Jason wouldn't stop until he'd given you the best gift physically possible, wholly unaware that in your eyes, he was the best gift you could ever be given, and you'd make sure he'd realize that someday, just as he'd make you realize that you deserved it.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #candy pop #candy pop x reader #candy pop headcanon #candy pop headcanons #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack headcanon #laughing jack headcanons #jason the toymaker #jason the toymaker headcanons #jason the toymaker headcanon #jason the toymaker x reader

180 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 5 months ago

Note

Yandere Concept for Bubba Bubbaphant Please?

You know the drill, same format as the other Critters I wrote. Sorry if this isn't as long as the other ones... I didn't have many ideas for Bubba :(

🐘Yandere! Bubba Bubbaphant Concept💡

(My Version)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Blood, Experimentation mentioned, Deception, Kidnapping implied, Forced companionship.

A couple things to note about Bubba.

I imagine he's probably one of the largest and strongest Critters in his monster form.

Not only that but the material on him isn't furry.

It's probably fuzzy or more akin to actual elephant skin, as odd as that sounds.

Bubba is also one of the smartest Critters.

Which can have its benefits... and its drawbacks.

Like all the Critters I write, Bubba has a plush form and a monster form.

Most monster forms appear to be bipedal, although I imagine Bubba, Bobby, and maybe Crafty are mostly on all fours.

However, Bubba would be bipedal in his smaller plush form.

Due to his intellect, I imagine he'd want to be very helpful towards his obsession.

Maybe Bubba tries to act like a helpful guide to you, coming up with plans or helping you with work.

He, like most of the Critters, prefers to stay in his smaller form

Mostly because his larger form can be a bit problematic.

Imagine being a scientist working on testing the Critters and other experiments.

It's unexpected when you're solving equations or overseeing tests... Only for Bubba to want to help.

The elephant, since creation, has always wanted to be a problem solver.

He wants to learn more about everything around him.

Which, since you seem to know a lot, makes him cling around you the most.

While Bubba might help you if you're a scientist, he would also love to help you if you were a kid around the time of his creation.

The Critters were created to be good around kids and watch over them.

Imagine Bubba watching over you and providing helpful tips and lessons for you?

He loves to help and may even act like a teacher to you.

Bubba's presence has always been calming due to his Lemongrass scent.

Like most of the Critters' scents, Lemongrass supposedly gives stress relief.

So imagine working hard one day, or maybe if you're young and are scared of something... Bubba steps in to comfort you.

The elephant loves to cuddle in your lap, tail swaying as he comforts you.

To him, you're his best friend.

It's his job to keep his buddy happy and stress free, right?

He'll find ways to solve your problems for you...

Even if they're bigger than he thought.

Like the rest of his Critter friends, Bubba ended up being abandoned in the Playcare after the Hour of Joy.

He's managed to survive due to his intelligence and strong monster form... yet it's hard to keep your mind together when you're all alone.

His friends have gone feral by now.

If you ever met Bubba after the Hour of Joy, he's a different beast.

He's tried to keep his mind busy, but it's difficult when you have to feed on other living toys to survive.

He hasn't seen a human for who knows how long....

It's definitely been years, yet he hasn't been counting.

When Bubba meets you, someone who managed to come back after the place shut down, he can't help but follow you.

He keeps his monster form hidden, following you around as a small plush toy.

He's curious... You could either be someone from his past or another person altogether.

Bubba doesn't care much... He's yearned for company.

Now, if he plans things out, he can finally have it.

Bubba seems like he'd make an elaborate plan to get you to trust him.

Something like deliberately putting you in danger, only to save you at the last second.

It's manipulative, but he's surprisingly good at trickery.

I can see him using his monster form to knock something loose, like a piece of machinery, just to trap you.

Then he'll come up to you in his plush form, promising to help lead you out of here.

He isn't the weirdest thing you've witnessed, surely.

After all, this place is full of experiments and living toys.

His younger self might have felt bad about all of this.

However, He's willing to do anything for a friend.

You barely caught sight of his monster form... or maybe you could make out the silhouette?

Either way, you don't think the small elephant plush and the big monster are the same creature.

Bubba would be smiling the whole time you travel through the Playcare.

He's being carefully held by you, wrapped tightly around your arm.

He acts as a guide, after all, he's been here for a while.

He offers tips and warnings, wanting to keep his new best friend out of danger.

He sees you as his savior, you've saved his mind from deteriorating!

Now he wishes to 'return the favor' by easing your stress.

He smells of musk yet also Lemongrass... He's simultaneously a living creature and a toy.

It's strange... but expected in this place.

The smell is no doubt comforting in a place such as this... so you accept Bubba's affection and guidance when you can.

You poor thing... You have no clue that Bubba set this up to have you as his best friend forever.

When you try to escape Playcare, Bubba asks where you're going.

You say you're trying to leave this place... Bubba asks if you're taking him with you?

After all, you can't possibly be trying to navigate this place on your own, right?

When you stay silent, unsure what to say...

Bubba doesn't like that.

In fact, the elephant desperately tries to convince you not to go.

You argue with the guide you once considered a friend, unsure why he wants you to stay in Playcare of all places.

Then... It happens.

The friend you thought you made transforms.

A large slithering trunk slips around your waist as you're met with large flaring eyes.

Bubba resembles a large lumbering elephant in his monster form, strong yet the ribs are showing.

Blood from previous victims stains his mouth and tusks as he stares you down.

This was the beast that attacked you before.

Bubba has planned everything... and for what?

A friend?

You can try to struggle... try to run... but at this point it's useless.

Bubba may be tanky and slow... but his trunk allows him to get away with grabbing you.

You try to plead with him, trying to promise you'll escape with him.

Bubba, however, is smarter than that.

He knows you're tricking him.

He knows a monster like him can't leave with you.

Which means you won't be leaving him.

This will be your new home, a playground for the both of you!

You'll never have to worry about anything ever again....

He'll take care of you here, just like a best friend should...

You're going to have fun forever... or until you eventually perish.

#yandere smiling critters #yandere poppy playtime #yandere smiling critters x reader #yandere poppy playtime x reader #platonic yandere

99 notes · View notes

sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year ago

Note

please do something with peter parker for vday. I miss you writing for him

I started writing this one last year for Valentine's Day...forgive me for the long wait

—

‘’No, you don’t understand, Ned. It needs to be perfect,’’ Peter explained, turning to his best friend for help.

‘’My longest and only relationship lasted about sixty hours, so I’m not really the one to come to for Valentine’s Day gift ideas.’’

‘’Uncle Ben always gave May flowers and chocolate.’’ And Peter always tried to steal chocolate from the box. ‘’But Y/N is Mr. Stark’s daughter, I can’t just buy her flowers and chocolate. She’ll think I’m poor.’’

‘’Didn’t you tell me this morning that you only have five dollars in your pockets?’’ Ned recalled, taking one of the homemade cookies his lola had put into his lunch bag and taking a bite. There was one for Peter too, but he was too busy worrying and panicking.

Peter groaned and hid his face in his crossed arms, frustrated and desperate. Being broke was a second problem to his Valentine’s Day plan. ‘’What am I gonna do? Valentine’s Day is in two days. I can’t not get her anything.’’

‘’If you go back to the roots of Valentine’s Day, it’s about celebrating love. You don’t have to spend money to show someone you love them.’’ Peter opened his mouth, but Ned spoke first. ‘’Even if she’s a Stark and bathes in money,’’ he added. ‘’She didn’t fall in love with you because of your economic status, she fell in love because of who you are.’’

On the big day, Peter set everything up in his living room. May was on a date with Happy, so he had the apartment to himself — until 10pm. He didn’t have a projector, so he made one with a shoebox and a magnifying glass, and hung a sheet to one of the walls to turn into a screen. He made cheese pastas and brought over the single chocolate cupcake he was able to afford.

He was nervous, constantly checking his phone waiting for your ‘I’m here’ text. When he finally got it, Peter rushed to the door, smoothing his button up and fixing his hair before opening. If he was this nervous for Valentine’s Day, he didn’t want to imagine the nervous wreck he would be at his wedding.

Not that he was planning on getting married anytime soon.

‘’Happy Valentine’s Day,’’ you said with a smile on your glossy lips.

Peter said the words back and let you in, gulping when his eyes fell on the small gift bag you were holding. You set it down on the table to take off your coat and boots, revealing a pink sweater and a sparkly necklace that cost probably more than anything in May's apartment.

You followed Peter to the living room, excitement bubbling in your stomach when seeing the frozen image of your favorite rom-com projected on the wall. ‘’You made this?’’

Peter gave you a small nod. Projectors were easy to make. He learned how in a science book for kids when he was nine. May was so impressed when he showed her his ‘magic box’.

‘’It’s not much, but—’’ he started to say, but you shut him up with a kiss.

‘’Stop it,’’ you said, guessing his train of thoughts. ‘’This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever.’’

You never had another valentine before him — beside the little boys in middle school who sent you cards and heart lollipops —, but Peter’s gift came from the heart. It was thoughtful and personal, therefore meant a lot to you.

After eating the pastas, you handed Peter the gift bag. He was nervous just from holding it.

He slowly pulled out the festive tissue papers and groaned when seeing a red and blue plush toy. ‘’Spiderman? Really?’’ Peter made an annoyed face. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful, but he was getting tired of the jokes with the Spiderman merch he had no control over.

‘’Press his chest,’’ you instructed, ignoring his complaints.

Peter gave you a confused look, but listened. ‘’I love you, my Spidey,’’ the toy said.

You watched his expressions shift from confusion to surprise, Peter’s eyes widening when he recognized the sound of your voice. A genuine smile spread across his face, the small plush taking a whole other meaning. ‘’That's your voice,’’ he whispered, still holding the talking Spiderman plush.

You nodded, the sparks in Peter’s eyes telling you that no expensive gift could have matched this one. He was truly touched. ‘’I know you don’t like when I get you expensive things, so I didn’t get you a new watch,’’ you explained, thinking back at the Cartier watch you hesitated on last week. He would have hated it.

Turning toward you, Peter enveloped you in a hug to properly thank you.

Your arms wrapped around him in return. ‘’Even when I’m not with you, you’ll always have something to remind you that I love you.’’

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation @aabananaa @starrrslove @angeliod @nmedina8611 @1stevelacyfan @yourfavdummy @laylasbunbunny @slytherhoes @pedrosprincess @luvvtxinityy @Eddiefrickenmunson @wandaswigglywoos @mikaelsonsstuff @tcddszn @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @popeheywardssecretgf @kattybug @loverofdrewstarkey @sl4sh3rfuck3r @luci1fer @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @t-candy @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @mymultiveres @hopeurokays @not-liah @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking @rubyliquor @Danniackerman @angelxxrose @angelxxrose @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe @hoeforsirius @secretsthathauntus @sarcasm-and-stiles

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker imagine #marvel #spiderman #tom!peter parker x reader

682 notes · View notes

simpy-simpers · 11 days ago

Text

Too small on a stage not meant for them.

Day 5!!! Prompt - Five

Technically there's six but the twins count for Golden... so 5 animatronics?

Not my best vision for a piece and definitely not my best execution, but I'm a week behind (oops! Life hits hard what can I say)

Not my best work but we continue!! Maybe I'll redraw it someday, wasn't feeling too hot with the background and didn't really enjoy drawing the characters too much, but it was decent overall haha.

Gahhh lore lore lore below, lots of text you may not want to read

(Maybe not so) Miniature lore time!

TW!!! Mentions of CHILD DEATH.

So I changed things around a bit to see what I like. Andrew IS in this AU (a character from the stitchwraith(did I spell that right?) which clued us into how Golden Freddy functions) and he's the twin brother of Cassidy. He takes the form of the vengeful spirit while Cassidy will resemble more of Charlie's role (sorta forgiving, protector, but not giver of life, that stays with the puppet.) Andrew and Cassidy were killed within moments of each other, still deciding how (debating on going with the springlock theory or not).

Anyway, Gabriel takes the spot as the oldest of the group, around 14. Jeremy is 8, Fritz 7, and Susie 5. Andrew and Cassidy hang around 12-ish.

A lot of their story is driven by Andrew, Cassidy, and Gabriel. (Bear trio yay!) They try to make plans, finding ways to free themselves, and 'get to heaven', but nothing truly works. They try killing night guards to see if their murderer is one, but they can't tell who it is (due to the spring bonnie suit), and all it results in is a bunch of children with blood on their hands. The youngest 3 truly don't understand. All they do is follow the orders from the "big kids". Blah blah blah story details, there's a lot of dialogue of them just talking. I mean, it's all they can do. Sometimes Gabriel will figure out one of the TVs and manage to turn on cartoons for them to watch, and they've even managed hide and seek a couple times.

blah blah blah more more more

Anyway they find CC's soul in the Fredbear plush. Don't know if I brought something like this up before, because I may have accidentally lied, but this was a detail I put in. CC actually dies during the bite of 83' with the plushy in his arms, and paired with the agony infused into it during FNAF 4, he latches onto it instead of onto Fredbear. Add in his reality altering abilities (as proved by the survival logbook text being altered and blah blah blah, watch God Victim theory, it has some points I use here). As I said, they find the plush with CC's soul. (His name is Eli in this universe, named after Elizabeth because he was born post Elizabeth's death. Times are changed around a LOT) They talk to CC, he's sobbing like 24/7, somehow they come to the conclusion about the happiest day thing, and they send Cassidy in (she wanted to) somehow??? Anyway that's how fnaf world ends up happening. Whole storyline everything blah blah blah, achieves happiest day (different than in the canon game but yk).

Once they learn happiest day they manage to use it(?) on everyone, not exactly the most peak storytelling, I know, but I'm working around it. I still need to actually read the stitchwraith (can't spell wahhh)

And they find heaven.

Most of them.

Andrew stays. He wants revenge. He needs someone to suffer for their actions. And Cassidy can't leave until he does. "Once we find him." He says, "Once he's suffered."

He didn't truly know how long that would take.

blah blah blah blah blah. omg ucn. Yeah that's Andrew. He finds a way to separate himself and Cassidy.

He's alone. "Not held back anymore."

UCN goes on woop woop.

uhmmmmmm

ikr peak storytelling.

then??? idk?? I'll make choices when they make more sense. A little tired lmbo. I'll start catching up this time I promiseeeeeeee. Gonna do smaller pieces to stop eating up time. This piece was SUCH a time eater!!! Should not have taken that long but I've been working on it for like 3 days (70% of that time was just me on my phone but we do not talk about that)

Anyway, sleep well, take my subpar effort, and have a good night! Stay simpin yall

34 notes · View notes

h4nj1sunggg · 6 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ( l. minho x h. jisung ) - 07.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist ) . ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist roommates ) .

taglist ! @estella-novella @fackeraccount @ihrtlix @hanji-coffee

warnings: semi-public make out.

You hadn’t even had time to catch your breath from the evening with Minho before your phone buzzed with a message from Jisung. It was a simple text—“My turn! Be ready at 6 tomorrow! 😏”—but it carried the unmistakable energy that always seemed to follow him.

Jisung’s exuberance was both endearing and nerve-wracking. If Minho’s date had been a calm river, you had a feeling Jisung’s would be a whirlwind.

The next evening, right at 6, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Jisung standing there, grinning from ear to ear. He wore an oversized hoodie, distressed jeans, and sneakers, looking effortlessly casual. In his hands, he held a bouquet of sunflowers that seemed as bright as his smile.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a small bow. “Thought they’d match your vibe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, taking the bouquet and holding it to your chest. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” he replied smoothly, though the slight pink tint on his ears betrayed his attempt at being suave. “Anyway, let’s go! I’ve got the whole night planned.”

“Should I be worried?” you teased, locking your door and following him down the hall.

“Only a little,” he shot back with a wink.

The first stop of the evening was a small arcade tucked into a corner of the city. It wasn’t what you’d expected, but as soon as you stepped inside, the buzz of retro game sounds and neon lights made you smile.

“Figured we could start with something fun,” Jisung said, gesturing to the rows of games. “Pick your poison.”

You scanned the room, your eyes landing on an air hockey table. “How about that?”

Jisung’s eyes lit up. “You’re on.”

The match was fierce. Jisung was surprisingly competitive, and his quick reflexes made him a formidable opponent. But you held your own, scoring points while laughing at his exaggerated reactions to every goal you made.

“No way!” he exclaimed after you scored yet another point. “You’re cheating!”

“Cheating?!” you repeated, laughing so hard you could barely stand. “You’re just mad I’m winning.”

“Okay, okay, rematch later,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But only because I’m letting you save face.”

You rolled your eyes, still grinning as he dragged you to another game—a claw machine filled with plush toys. “Your turn to impress me,” you challenged.

Jisung cracked his knuckles. “Watch and learn.”

To your surprise, he actually managed to grab a small stuffed bear on his first try. He handed it to you with a triumphant smile. “For you, my queen.”

You took the bear, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming, I know,” he replied with a wink.

After the arcade, Jisung took you to a nearby food truck park. The air was filled with the smell of sizzling meat, spices, and sweet desserts. Jisung led you to a taco stand, ordering a variety of dishes for you both to share.

“I figured street food would be more fun than some fancy restaurant,” he explained, handing you a plate. “Besides, nothing beats tacos.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Sitting at one of the picnic tables, the two of you dug into the food, laughing as Jisung accidentally spilled salsa on his hoodie.

“Smooth,” you teased, handing him a napkin.

He groaned, dabbing at the stain. “This is why I can’t have nice things.”

Despite the minor mishap, the food was delicious, and the conversation flowed easily. Jisung had a way of making you feel completely at ease, his playful banter balanced by moments of genuine sincerity.

“So,” he said between bites, “tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll go first. When I was a trainee, I used to talk to my plants because I didn’t have many friends.”

You laughed, the image of a younger Jisung chatting with his plants both hilarious and oddly sweet. “Okay, fine. When I was a kid, I used to sneak out to this old treehouse in the woods near my house. It was my little escape.”

“Sounds like we both had our hideouts,” he said, his tone softening. “Maybe that’s why we’re both so good at finding little joys in the chaos.”

The final stop of the evening was a rooftop overlooking the city. Jisung had somehow managed to snag the perfect spot, complete with a cozy blanket and a small Bluetooth speaker playing soft music in the background.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking in the glittering skyline.

Jisung sat down beside you, his usual energy replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness. “I wanted to end the night somewhere special,” he said. “You deserve that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, watching the city lights twinkle below. Jisung eventually broke the silence, his voice soft but filled with conviction.

“You know,” he began, his eyes fixed on the skyline, “you’re really easy to be around. Like, it feels… natural. I don’t have to try so hard.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his words. “I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He turned to you, his gaze searching your face. For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Then, with a small smile, he reached over and took your hand in his.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said quietly. “For trusting me with this, trusting minho with this.”

“Thank you for making it unforgettable,” you replied.

Suddenly you felt his lips collapsing against yours, a blush spreading in both of your cheeks, a light gasp leaving your lips before you kiss him back. You move your hand on the back of his neck, his arms locks around your waist.

His whines reaches your ears before you could've imagine, jisung is a really floppy, needy kisser, and you're all there for it. The boy's hands travel to your ass, squeezing it between his fingers as you break the kiss for a gasp of air. "woah.. you're really something-"

"Shut up and kiss me again, would you please?" His breathy voice makes your skin tingle, your giggles makes him blush but he lay toward your again, making you carefully lay down on the cement, making sure you're head is not gonna hurt after and his lips finds your neck. He trace his tongue over your tattoo as you cover your face with your arm, gasping and barely containing moans.

You gently move your hand between his curls to encourage him but he stops with a whine, "no I can't, I promised to minho to not do anything.."

Jisung's eyes meets yours, his puppy face makes your giggles uncontainable "really?" He nods.

As the night wore on, the two of you stayed on the rooftop, sharing stories, laughter, and anything more than a kiss or two, kind of connection that felt rare and precious. By the time Jisung walked you back to your apartment, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted—something good.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his smile soft and genuine.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you replied, watching as he walked away, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

Closing your door behind you, you leaned against it, a content smile on your face. Whatever was happening between you, Minho, and Jisung, you were starting to feel like it was the beginning of something extraordinary.

81 notes · View notes

yerimbrit · 8 months ago

Text

[flufftober day 28, wc: 804] - sleepover : 10 hour flight

“HEY GUYS,” you wave, holding your bag full of your necessities and clothes for the night. that’s right, you’re staying over at your girlfriend’s place! which is also your cousin’s place. which is also minji, danielle, and haerin’s place. which also may or may not be the newjeans dorm. because your girlfriend is hanni from newjeans.

wow, you still can’t believe that you’re dating hanni from newjeans, and you didn’t even meet as a fan—you met on some random day at the airport, strangers-to-lovers-trope type of shit.

minji and hyein are the ones who answer the door for you, and minji immediately sighs, “you better not pull anything tonight.”

“you bet, MJ,” you click your tongue playfully and shoot a finger-gun at her, “no shady business that was planned.”

hyein gives you a hug, and- “oh my god, you got taller again!”

the younger girl is about to make a height comparison with her hands until you spot danielle who pushes her out of the way to give you a hug. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in forever, you’re so busy with school!”

a slight headache invades your mind for a split second when she mentions ‘school’. “i’ve got deadlines, a painting to finish, and a thesis to write, dani. don’t remind me…”

the australian shoots you a pitying look, before making way for hanni, who strikes a pose before strutting over to you. “hello, guest.”

oh, another thing you learned is that hanni can be pretty unintentionally funny at times. like how she’s greeting you like some sci-fi bigshot. “hello, your highness,” you bow, hovering your hand over your chest.

she brings you in for a short peck on the lips, causing haerin (who just walked into the living room) to cover hyein’s eyes, and for minji to cover haerin’s eyes. danielle smiles and walks to the kitchen. “i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, han,” you smile fondly at her before she leads you into the apartment. everyone gathers in her room where you also put your bag of things in.

it’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been to the dorm, but it hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen the girls—danielle was exaggerating. you just stopped by their practice room two days ago to drop off some food that hyein’s mom made for them. not that your absence has changed anything, the dorm is pretty much the same save for a big banner featuring their ‘right now’ characters.

in hanni’s room, she’s moved around some stuff, like the record player that’s playing a mac demarco vinyl right now. there’s also a whole section dedicated to organizing the various supplies that you’ve forgotten while you were over the few dozens (maybe even hundreds) of times over two years. you’re pretty sure there’s even stuff you left in hyein’s room, whoops.

you climb up on her loft bed (which she’s been saying she’s gonna replace, but she hasn’t yet) and hang your legs over the edge. minji sends you a warning look from her place on the floor. hanni looks concerned, but joins you criss-cross on the bed, holding her ‘fluffy’ plush (yes, the one from despicable me) to her chest.

a few conversations start, like danielle bringing up sylvanian families and getting haerin very invested in the discussion, which led to the topic shifting to cats, and then your sketch of a cat you saw on the way here, and somehow sparking your flame of inspiration.

you slowly lean forward, trying to get a view of the girls that are sitting on the floor (or bean bag, in haerin’s case) because just a little more and you’ll have a perfect bird’s eye view.

hanni notices your movements and widens her eyes, “y/n, you’re gonna fall!”

“it’s not that high,” you try to reassure her, still inching off of the bed, danielle, hyein, and minji scoot away just in case you actually fall, which you probably will, based on their previous experiences with you. come on, you mostly stopped doing those stunts a long time ago, because you knew hanni would worry! it’s not like you’re gonna—

“y/n!”

…you fell. that kind of hurt. “uh, don’t worry guys. it’s just a sprain.”

haerin winces as she looks at your present state. “your arm is bent the other way.”

it is? you look at your arm and, oh. “i guess it is—oh shit.”

…

“i can’t believe i’m in the er with you. again,” hanni sighs heavily, poking at the cast wrapped around your arm.

you blow a strand of your bangs out of your face. “at least i didn’t break two of my ribs again. hey, wanna reenact our first kiss?”

your girlfriend stares blankly at you. you raise your unbroken arm in defense. “no? okay…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u 10 hour flight

#newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #pham hanni x reader #hanni pham #hanni pham newjeans #girl group imagines #girl group x reader #newjeans #flufftober #flufftober2024 #an's flufftober!

122 notes · View notes

petra-creat0r · 10 months ago

Text

Deltarune: Fool's Fate Chapter 1 Shopkeep

Okay so this should be the last important character ref for Chapter 1, aka the Attic World. (i need a better name for this Dark World.) After this my plan is to post the minor characters like enemies, NPCs, and Minibosses but once those are out, I'm not sure what to start on next. I have many things I could work on, it's just a matter of choosing. Thus why shortly after posting this, I'll be putting up a poll. Anyways! Onto Jeanie!

The shopkeep of the first area, aka the Dusty Plains, Jeanie (like the spirit) is a mystic snake who lives alone in her tent and tells the fortunes of whoever enters. If we're to think in terms of mapping parts of the Attic World to Chapter 1 of Deltarune proper, imagine Jeanie as the Seam of the chapter. Some of her dialogue even makes mention to the cat plush, even though the two have never met proper.

Her name is a play on "genie", being said the same, just spelled differently, and tying to her mystic, fortune-teller vibe and occupation. As for inspiration, asides from taking on the appearance of a hooded cobra (a lot of the Attic World has some snake ties because of Broadway), Jeanie is an old fortune telling machine. I'm not sure if she's the full machine, or just a part of it, but that is her Light World counterpart. Her connection to tarot cards is likely due to the machine incorporating them into it's gimmick.

Being the first shopkeep, Jeanie's wares are rather basic. A healing item found a few times prior to meeting her, aka the Fortune Cookie, a stronger healing item in the Stitched Stew, a basic armor in the Crystal Lace, and a weapon for Chicago in the Fortune Cutters. I have descriptions for each of those items incase anyone's interested.

For a better look at her character, here's a quote from her shop dialogue when you ask Jeanie about herself.

"The name is Jeanie, like the spirit. Mystical Serpent of Mystery. This tent is my where I sell mystical charms and read palms, paws, and tails. I've seen quite a lot in my time telling fortunes. The past, the present... Perhaps even the future. Hee hee hee..."

Aside from asking about herself, during their first encounter with Jeanie, the player would be able to ask Jeanie about the Magician, ask for a Card Reading, or ask Jeanie how she was expecting the party based on her shop enter dialogue (depicted in the image above). Some of her dialogue will change later in the chapter, mostly after running into her a second time in the second area (the Feathered Forest) or once encountering Dorothy (the secret boss) both before and after fighting her. Under the cut is a list of what Jeanie has to say in her talk options.

You were expecting us?

"Legends have spread far and wide of Lightners who will come to seal fountains. Three legendary heroes who will save both light and dark from calamity. More recently, there have been tales and rumors among the Upper Choir of three young heroes destined to replace the Blue Knight and dethrone the High Priestess.

Call it premotion, call it fate, if you will... I simply call it inevitable that we would meet."

The Magician?

"Hmm? I'm afraid I do not know of the cat you speak off." She grins "Hee hee hee. Just kidding. You mean Magico, correct? He is quite the trickster, isn't he? I heard he's been trying capture the Lightners who've come to seal the Fountain. All in the name of the High Priestess. He wasn't always under her reign. None of us were. Our land did not have a singular, set ruler until recently. We were ruled by a collective choir. Until one day, a mysterious knight appeared, and appointed the highest Choir member, the Priestess, into power. After which, she appointed Magico the Head Magician and her right hand. It's been quite some time since this land has seen such upset in the Choir. Not since... Well, perhaps it's better you not learn of that just yet."

Card Reading (Beginning of Chapter, before Broadway joins party)

"The Fool, The Magician, and The High Priestess. It seems your journey is just beginning, young heroes. Yet I sense great potiental and power shining within you. Perhaps such potential will aid you in the facing the powers and entities yet unknown. Even still, buying a small protection charm wouldn't hurt."

Reading (Encountering Jeanie outside of her shop in Feathered Forest with Broadway)

"I left my cards back at my tent, but I can still read your fate through the vibrations of your soul. Hmm... Interesting. I sense a lack of control. A slipping of string. Perhaps brought on by someone close to you interfering with your prior norm? ... I suggest you talk things out with them, young hero."

Card Reading (Back tracking after CK and Remie re-join the party again but before the Chapel)

"Three of Cups, Eight of Swords, and Five of Wands. It seems the rest of your party has returned to you. Though you've been apart for a time, it's important to remember the value of working as a team. Especially since a great challenge still awaits you all on the path ahead. The Chapel and Priestess still lie ahead, young heroes. Be weary not to let your own ambition and feelings get in the way of your collective goal."

Card Reading (Back tracking after entering the Choral Chapel)

"The High Priestess, reversed Nine of Swords, and Nine of Wands. It seems the final leg of this journey lays before you, young ones. Soon you shall duel with the Priestess to end her tyrannical reign. Bringing a new light to this land. However such a battle can wait for a little while. Your adventure has been long and tiring, has it not? Why not take a short rest? I can make some tea and read the leaves before you must set off once more."

Odd Doll (After first talking to Dorothy)

"I sense you three have come across a strange presence oddly familiar but which you've never known. A strange prisoner whom speaks in stitched together tongue? ... So I see. Seems the Magician couldn't hide her from all eyes forever. ... I see many paths if you chose to go down this route more, yet oddly enough... The one in which you try and release her holds the most promise. It would not be my personal advice but... The stars have yet to steer me wrong yet. Perhaps dealing with the doll once and for all will yield a brighter future for everyone. ... Perhaps it was wrong to lock her away to begin with. A key? I do not hold it, but I have a sense as to were the Magician hid it. Hidden among the trees, in the thicket of the dark. You'll find the path you seek, if you chose to take the lark. That's all the advice I can give, so I would advise turning to the Magician if you get stuck further. I wish you luck on your journey, young ones, and my the stars guide your path."

"Gate blocking your path? As I said, I can offer no more advise. Perhaps seek the Magician for assistance."

Odd Doll (After opening Dorothy's cell)

"So you say you've opened the door? That explains the wrathful energy I feel far away..." I'm afraid can't see where your future leads from here. Do tell me how this plays out, if you can. Or don't. I merely predict your path, only you can decide it."

About DOROTHY (After defeating Dorothy)

"Judgment, Reversed six of wands, and The Chariot. I may not have known that doll for long, but I knew her cards, her fate, the path the stars laid out for her. Or perhaps the path she forged herself… Once she was nothing more than a blank doll. No face, no name, no path. She was a fool just as you are. Yet one day, she came across a strange someone and it seemed her stars had finally aligned. She had been gifted an identity and purpose from some higher power, she said. To this day, I still don't quite understand what she meant by that. Rambling on about the Truth, or our purpose, of creating our own stars…Yet I didn't NOT understand at the same time… At some point she was let into the Upper Choir, but even they eventually grew annoyed with her ramblings. And so they cast her out. Exiled her back to these dust ridden plains. She grew enraged, filled with an anger and hatred for all that betrayed her. She had to be locked away before she could hurt anyone else. It shames me that I had to be the one to call the guard… Ever since, I've mulled over the cards and stars, seeking answers to what she said. Yet the skies shone dark and the cards even darker. The only thing I've come back with are more questions than when I started. It makes one wonder…How much of the universe and fate can be understood and predicated… And how much can only be navigated by the blind?"

We Won (After defeating Dorothy)

"The six of wands, the Tower, and the Devil. So, it is true? You really defeated her? Then you three truly must be the heroes of legend after all… However be warned, DOROTHY is merely the first step in your fool's journey. There is still a long way to go, and many more obstacles to face. And one day soon… even the most darkest evil of all. Hee hee hee… Well, I can only wish you luck. Perhaps once you reach that point You can come back here and I shall read your scattered destiny once more."

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

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 4 50 39 44, 15 19t 21ly

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 5 50 39 44, 16 6 9

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 1 50 39 44, 41 re49 39

31 39s 38, 27 6 7 3 50 39 44, 40 6 2 25

31 39s 38, 27 48 8st 50 50 39 23, 35 32 27 13

31 39s 35 32, 27 34 4feated. 50 39 35 32, 46s 10 47ed.

31 33s 34 39, 27 34 & 29 50r 18, yet 6 2 45ed

31 28s 22, can 35t 6 11ed 50 28 36, of 26 this 10 20s

31 43s the 24, 27 43s 15 in 47, 30 & 42ess, 34ly 14.

31 39s 38, 24ish 27 39ed 6. 50r 47 37 32. 17 39, will 35t 50?

#deltarune #deltarune fan character #Deltarune: Fool's Fate #dr atticworld #dr:ff atticworld #deltarune oc #petra's deltarune take #deltarune au #petra art #fool's fate #jeanie #deltarune shopkeep oc

87 notes · View notes

mediocreanomaly · 2 years ago

Note

NESTING? PLS 😭 like ARE WE CONNECTED SOMEHOW this is so good

i have drowsy knives purring himself to sleep stuck in my head now--THIS IS LITERAL GOLD 😭 it would take a v special s/o to pick up the slight nuances of his emotions too n he'd be head over heels 🥺

but nesting instincts 🥺 please for the love of everything knives elaborate i i i wanna know all there is to know ab this man 🥺👉👈

n maybe vashy seperately too?? 🥴

Authors Note: Turned this into a full post because I'm procrastinating my drabbles anyways lmao this is going to give away a teeny tiny bit of my uncanny Vash post I'm making but I love talking about the Twins and their less than human instincts

Savern Twins Nesting HC's

Knives

•Knives is surprisingly the less embarrassed of the twins about nesting instincts, this is solely based on the fact that he doesn't see his plant qualities to be anything to be ashamed about, it's just another thing that sets him apart from humans

•Although, no one (besides you) knows about Knives nest. You may wonder how the two points can co-exist but that's because a Plant's nest is supposed to be somewhere secure and safe. So while he's not embarrassed that he has a nest, he's not going to openly talk about it and risk giving away someone trying to get a peek of it (not that he really openly talks about anything)

•Knives nest is big, he had a bed custom-made that's larger than a king but circular and with plush raised walls so it feels not secure and less in the open. He's collected various blankets and pillows that fill the empty space so that he can bundle up under them, all of it is white because he refuses to let his nest look ugly or disorganized

•He's a perfectionist too so he spends a lot of time organizing and reorganizing his nest. Every time he gets a new blanket or pillow to add he has to redo the whole thing to make sure it's in the perfect spot or else he refuses to sleep in it

•Now Knives doesn't have to sleep much like he doesn't have to eat, but sleeping is something enjoys. He stresses about his plans a lot even if he doesn't show it outwardly. What better way to destress than napping in his nest?

•Whenever he decides to officially make you his mate (yes he calls it that, what else is he supposed to call it? Everything else sounds too human) all his instincts will scream at him to burrow into his nest

•For a while, you'll actually be hard-pressed to even be allowed out of the nest because why would you want to leave? As your mate Knives needs to keep you safe, and where's the safest place in the world? His safest place in the world, so please stop trying to leave the nest- you're hungry? Fine he'll bring you food that you can eat in the nest

•I honestly don't think Independents hold body heat because their sisters live in water, which is one of many reasons they nest. It's also why Nai will drag you in with him when he wants to sleep so he can bum off your body heat. That's when you learn he can purr (yeah, that's right, Plants purr propaganda). Naps like this are the best. It's hard to stay awake when he's got you cuddled under blankets, gentle rumbles lulling you asleep

•After a while you'll be allowed out so long as you are by his side or being escorted by Legato, or at least unless you get pregnant

•If Knives manages to get you pregnant...you are banished to the nest again. It's not so bad though, besides he likes you like this. All round and full of his child, surrounded by plush comforters and pillows that cradle your form. At this point he won't leave your side unless he has to, if his instincts were bad before then they are haywire now, he stays curled up with you because there's no way you'd be able to defend yourself in a state like this, it's his job as your mate to keep you and his unborn child safe and sound, tucked away from the rest of the world

•When the baby is born it's where you'll spend most of your time too, I mean...c'mon think about it. Your little one all tucked against you and Nai curled protectively around both of you, gentle purrs from both him and your baby as both their plant markings glow ever so slightly? If there's such thing as heaven this is it

•Knives has purposely made his nest large enough to hold his growing family, so no matter how many children you have you'll all get to curl up in the nest to find comfort or just to sleep.

•I think unfortunately once the children hit a certain age they are kicked out of the nest lol, it's more reserved for a Plants mate and young ones, so starting at maybe teen age it's time for them to make their own nest

•This isn't to say they aren't ever allowed in at all though. If Knives children are in any sort of distress his instincts kick in telling him to make sure they are safe so in times like that they are still allowed in, the purpose of the nest is to provide him and his family with safety and comfort so no matter what it's there waiting for you

Vash

•Vash is admittedly a bit more embarrassed about the fact that he nests

•He tries his best to blend in with humans and thinks that people might find it weird that his instincts are constantly telling him to grab every soft thing he can find and hunker down

•Not that it really matters because he's always on the run anyways, he doesn't have time to stop and nest in the first place which makes it an easy an excuse to not nest at all, so Vash doesn't have a nest...right?

•Wrong. Like I said it's instinct and even Vash can't help but begin to nest in whatever shitty motel room he's in, especially if he's had a really rough day and just wants to sleep.

•Vash's nest is...admittedly a bit more pitiful than Knives. Knives has the advantage of staying in one spot, Vash does not, so he doesn't have a single nest but more so a hastily made one consisting of anything soft he can find. Old blankets, pillows, clothes, rags, and even his own coat all make up his haphazard resting place.

•When he meets you though oh boy does it make it harder to resist the urge to stay and make a nice big nest for the two of you to hide away in

•It takes a while for you to learn of Vash's little habit because he tries really hard to hide it away. He doesn't want you to think he's weird, so when he does show it to you and you don't react negatively, he's shyly asking, "Do you...want to get in it?"

•Please say yes, his heart can't take any other answer. After that, Vash is more keen on nesting even though the two of you travel. You even buy him a couple of blankets that you pack up and bring so that he has something more consistent to nest with. The two of you will arrive at the motel for the night and you sit on the bed watching as Vash sleepily mulls over the blankets, pillows, and clothes he's chosen and organized them in a satisfactory way before he weakly pulls you in with him, purring as he cuddles up to you

•If you run your hand through his hair you'll be rewarded with more purrs and him nuzzling into your hand, but don't comment on it or he'll get embarrassed and hide his face into the blankets while he pulls away

•Vash wouldn't try to get you pregnant unless it was after he dealt with his brother and at that point I think he'd have a more permanent nest. Whether that's on Ship 3 or your own little home he's finally got a spot that he knows is always there, perfect to keep you in while you grow your baby!

•Vash loves spending time in the nest, it's from a mixture of putting off his instincts so long when he was on the run and the fact he actually has a place of comfort for once that does it, so if you can't find your partner...he's most likely buried in the nest

•It's super cute though, you'll walk in the room and softly call "Vash?" and his head will peak out of the mountain of blankets eyes still half lidded with sleep and hair all messy as he says a soft "hmm?"

•This nest is still a bit more messy and it's one of those "it looks disorganized but Vash know exactly where everything is" situations, he doesn't really care aboutThey'rers or anything, infact it's proably mostly blankets that other people have gifted him over the years, he feels like it tells a story

•Unlike Knives, you'll have to be the one to eventually kick the kids out of the nest once they get older because

"what do you mean they can't stay in here with us? Their still our baby!"

"Vash they're 20"

"and?"

•Vash's plant marks always appear when he's in the nest, he can't help it! It's so comforting, besides he has you here warming him up and your kids cuddled in the covers- oop he's crying, don't worry they're happy tears

After note: I hope you liked it!!! I wanted to add more stuff about you being able to read Knives but it didn't really fit so that might have to be saved for another list I'm a firm "the boys do weird but cute animal things" believer and it's my job to infect people with that propaganda

#vash x you #knives x you #vash x reader #knives x reader #trigun x reader #trigun x you #Zero responds

487 notes · View notes