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#humble posture
dwuerch-blog · 2 years
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 The Test, the Tribulation, and the Triumph
 The Test, the Tribulation, and the Triumph
I am picking up my grandson’s favorite after-school snack: the big plate of honey chicken X 3 and white rice at Panda Express. The manager is helping me. She knows me well from the many times I go in to get Bryson’s “snack”! But this encounter with the manager starts my TEST and my seeking! My wallet is NOT in my purse. I ask if I can take the meal and pay her tomorrow. Food in hand, I am…
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icaruspendragon · 6 months
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babygirl i sit hunched in ways you’d never fuckin believe
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sneez · 1 year
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more of my oc tervis (any pronouns), the creepiest most miserable little weirdo in town. which is saying something [id under cut]
/ ID: four digital drawings.
The first image is a series of drawings of Tervis on a paper-textured background. A heading at the top reads 'Tervis (Humble)'. One is a coloured headshot of Tervis looking to the left; they have a gaunt face, short receding hair, a scar bisecting their lip and right eyebrow, greyish skin, and are wearing a red shawl around their neck. An arrow pointing at their right eye reads 'one blue eye (mostly blind)'; another arrow pointing at their left eye reads 'one brown eye'. They have a serious, hostile expression. The second drawing is an uncoloured full-body sketch of Tervis. Next to this is the same drawing but coloured and with more polished lineart. Tervis is a thin, hunched figure wearing a long, dark brown robe, a greyish bag on their back, and a red shawl around their head and neck. They are barefoot, and are leaning on a walking staff with both hands. An arrow pointing to the walking staff reads 'needed for walking, useful for hitting'. Tied to the belt around their waist are several long scrolls of paper with writing on them. An arrow pointing to the scrolls reads ''blessings' they paste on infected houses'. Tervis is looking warily out at the viewer from beneath their eyebrows. An arrow pointing to their head reads 'scar from getting hit in the face with a brick (also knocked out a tooth)'. Alongside these drawings are a series of bullet points giving information about Tervis. These read:
   indeterminate age, indeterminate gender
   religious fanatic (unclear which religion)
   lives alone somewhere in the steppe
   dislikes everyone but is nicer to children than anyone else
   has every disease
The second image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic. Tervis is looking out at the viewer; the background shows scenery from the steppe. The text on screen reads:
CHANGELING: I still don’t see what you could have done that would make you personally responsible for this plague. TERVIS: Responsible… no, not merely responsible! This is my plague, cast upon my head alone. I am the originator; my sin is at the root of all. I have ventured into the town. I have seen the canker there. No matter how many houses I bless, my sickness sinks deeper. The rotted limb is the death of the body… Surely you understand me. You are a healer, are you not? CHANGELING: What is it that you are asking me to do? TERVIS: Let me be the lamb, worker of miracles! My blood shall wet the earth, and bright flowers shall grow… My putrefaction will provide the soil within which new life will burgeon, pure and free of sin and decay. Let it be done. I am ready. My failing flesh is but little sacrifice; in death my weakness will be my strength. Soon these torments will be at an end.
Below are two dialogue options:
You’re insane!
What makes you so sure your death would solve anything?
The third image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic 2. Tervis is looking out at the viewer, and has been painted in semi-realistic style. The text on screen reads:
Tervis: Why do you force me to live? Damn you! Your cure is poison to me. Now I shall never be blessed. You should have left me to bleed.
Below are three dialogue options:
Don’t be absurd. I wasn’t going to watch you die.
What makes you think you deserve suffering?
I wish I had.
At the bottom of the image is a line of dialogue which Tervis has just spoken:
The air is foul. There is rot in this place. The stench of corruption shall be – what was it? What was it? The stench of corruption shall be… swept aside…
The fourth image is a coloured scene depicting Tervis and Clara. They are central in the composition; around them is the steppe, which has been rendered in a loose, painterly style. Tervis is kneeling, their walking staff cast aside, and are reaching out their hands to Clara in a desperate, pleading gesture. They are crying, their face contorted in an expression of agonised ecstasy. Clara stands beside them, one hand reaching out, the other held above Tervis’s head as though about to touch their brow. She has a solemn, pained expression. Behind her head, a break in the dark clouds gives the impression that she is haloed by sunlight; rays of the same light fall onto Tervis, illuminating their face and red robe. End ID. /
#artwork#pathologic#tervis!!!!!!!!!!!! :-D#sorry i know ive already posted that fake p2 screenshot i just wanted to keep all my tervis images in one place. please forgive me#i am having. So Much Fun. i would explode and die for tervis shes the worst i adore her#making fake screenshots is so enjoyable i love trying to match the fonts and copying all the little ui details it's so fun highly recommend#i have a lot of tervis lore which i am still developing but hopefully these drawings give you some idea of his character#hes just a mess really. hes got every imaginable problem#that last drawing is her getting sacrificed in the humble ending. she is SO happy about it#also if you didnt see my last post tervis was originally a warhammer 40k oc (which he still is ive just made a bonus pathologic tervis now)#but ive tried to keep a lot of 40k stuff in her design like the blessing scrolls and the uh. Posture#that's also my reasoning for why nobody knows what his religion is. the watsonian explanation is they are just spouting incomprehensible#disjointed passages from some obscure scripture which nobody can identify (and who would want to try really. tervis is not good company)#but the doylist explanation is that it's literally just the cult mechanicus. just ignore all the references to the weakness of the flesh and#the glory of the machine it will all be fine nothing weird here at all#anyway :-) i could talk about tervis forever but i will stop now#i hope you are all well my dear friends! i am on holiday now wahoo#i am also aware that i have several messages to answer which i will do very soon i am so sorry for being so slow as usual#i love you all i am giving you individual kisses on your individual heads. mwah
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jmkho · 1 year
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peachpopfizz · 1 year
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living in flordia is like rolling a percentile every minute of a 24 hour cycle period and on that percentile there's a 98.5% chance for normalcy but also a 1.5% chance for a completely random power outage and, lo and behold, once every couple of months it lands on that 1.5%
and yknow thats fine!! add a little spice to my otherwise monotonous life whydontcha. i can take my computer suddenly cutting off in the middle of an important moment for like a movie or smthn, that shits funny as hell
HOWEVER
however what is NOT fine is the fact that after the 1.5% is landed on suddenly ANOTHER PERCENTILE is spun and THIS one dictates whether youre going to be one of the lucky people who get their wifi back on in two minutes or the very very sad ones who have to wait two weeks
youll NEVER guess where the percentile landed me
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They hate me for my gremlin stance and dripping blood
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seumyo · 5 days
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58
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No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.
You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!
Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point. 
Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.
“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”
He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.
“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”
“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.
You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!
Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.
Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!” 
Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.
“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”
“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”
“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”
“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”
You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”
And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture. 
“She’s a natural, hun.”
“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”
“Damn right, she is.”
Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.
It’s all too much for him to take.
And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made. 
“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”
“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”
The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day. 
Time spent with his family.
Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.
“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return. 
“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”
“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
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warnersister · 11 months
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Oh, how you’d changed him
Tom Riddle x Reader
Summary: how you’d changed Tom and his life for the better, and how ridiculous his previous plans seemed after that.
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Tom had carefully planned out his world domination, created his alias Lord Voldemort and the horrors that would go with him. He decided that he would single-handedly take over the wizarding world by any means necessary and reek havoc amongst the weaklings that surrounded him. This; a plan he had created since he was merely a boy, determined to return what this cruel world had forced upon him - sorrow and pain.
Until he met you. To Tom, you were like a breath of fresh air, an unbeatable presence with bright and hopeful features that offered a sense of peace in his life. You had been acquaintances since first year, however had become more familiar in sixth-year potions, just as he was plotting his first horcruxes along with the basallisk attack, you had been assigned as station-partners in the early September of that year.
When your names had been read Tom quirked a brow, however was not disappointed with the testily - having duly noted your previous achievements in the subject and feeling as though you could come in handy later down the line when his domination was more of a priority than his studies, but his world came crashing down when you turned in your seat to examine him.
Tom was lead to believe that he was incapable of love. A monotone psychopathic freak lacking human emotions, yet obtaining alien abilities. It when your eyes looked him over and your hair swayed behind your shoulders, he was unable to ignore the way his heartbeat quickened and breath faltered, in Tom’s eyes you were unfathomably gorgeous and he was unable to look away, a Medusa incapable of stoning her victims.
You held your hand out calmly and he admired the way your posture was straight and head held in a confident stature. “Y/n,” you said, lips soft and plump and voice soothing and gentle. “Tom,” he replied, voice failing him as he fumbled over his words with a stutter - something having never happened to him previously. You giggled at his mistake and he found himself enjoying the sound, instinctively making it his mission to hear it once more, unable to stop the smile appearing on his lips.
Tom also appreciated your knack for perfection. Your potions never failed to exceed beyond perfection and your applause was always deserved, taken with a humble nod to your peers before you set out defying the next odds in your path.
Naturally, Tom began to gravitate towards you outside of lectures, also. He’d find himself on the path to walk you to class or accompany you to the dinner table, or beside you in the library studying beyond the librarian’s patience and working hours. Tom found comfort in your presence and allowed himself to indulge regardless of what ‘Lord Voldemort’ told him to do.
Eventually, he’d offered his arm to stroll down with you to Hogsmeade on a chilly autum day, a few weeks before Christmas celebrations would commence and the winter solstice would turn the Scottish highlands surrounding you into an awe-worthy winter wonderland. “May I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” Tom asked with a small smile, holding his arm out to you while you friends giggled and pushed you towards him. You’d laughed with him as you threaded your forearm alongside his, joining you both at the hip while you replied: “yes, you may Tommy.”
Strangely, he never felt any kind of resentment to any nickname you’d give him other than his name. He welcomed your names with open arms and answered to nearly any plausible noun that passed his lips. He even bought you butterbeer to warm your frostbitten lips, sipping simultaneously while the barmaid offered a few obvious knowing glances.
You shivered as you walked on, the many layers you had adorned on top of your skin no match for the ever-growing cold attacking Hogwarts and found yourself struggling with chattering teeth. Tom immediately removed his long coat and wrapped it around you, admiring both the chivalry of his actions and the satisfied smile on your face when your body temperature started to rise. “No, no, Tom. You’ll get cold.” You said, a reluctant whine passing your lips to which he shrugged. With anyone else, he would’ve let you freeze to death, but not you. He would die for you, freeze to death if you will. “I’m fine, I’m more concerned about getting you back to the castle without hypothermia.” He says with a small chuckle, pulling you into his side by the waist. “I guess you aren’t so cold-hearted as you make yourself out to be, Tom Riddle.” He looks down at you and considers your words for a few seconds.
“You confuse me, y/n. I’ve never felt so warm and gleeful around a person yet you never fail to bring a smile to my face. Teach me how to do that.” I instructs but you shake your head no gently. “I cannot do that simply due to the face that you do it to me, also.” You reply, each exchanging knowing glances between each others eyes and lips. He leans down and traps your lips with his own, warming your body through a simple yet sophisticated gesture and from that day forward you were referred to as his girlfriend.
Of course, however he had also come clean about his upbringing and eventually the chamber and the basilisk. He had told you he was conceived under the influence of a love spell and believed that he was incapable of loving until he had met you. You laid on his bed as you talked; his head on your chest while you weaved your fingers thought his chestnut locks and listened to him. “I read a while back now about a recently investigated muggle issue called autism and it has occurred to me that you’re not incapable of love, you have asbergers Tom. I’ll read the passage to you later.” And all of a sudden all of his unjustified emotions and troubles made sense and he could finally find an unknowingly lost sense of peace within himself knowing what truly made him into the Tom Riddle he was.
When he took you into the chamber he’d told you all about his plan for domination and his large magical snake and how he had a few followers and you never judged him once. If anything you thought it was impressive that he yearned for revenge instead of acceptance but reasoned that perhaps an oversized snake and a killing spree were not the solutions he was searching for. The basilisk lived shrunken to normal size in a glass cage beside his bed after that.
And as the time went by and your relationship flourished, Voldemort seemed more like a past phase than a goal and was more focused on the life he going to create with you. He called his ‘followers’ pathetic and told them to get a life when they questioned his authority over their devotion.
Eventually, it came time for you to graduate and Tom’s hand was tightly clasped in your own as you looked at the castle for a final time. You were silent, acknowledging the end of this era and slowly coming to terms with it. After a while, Tom scoffed. “World domination.” He said with a smile shaking his head. “Who’s ever heard of such a thing?” He turned and picked up your bags along with his own. “Ready to go, darling?”
The two of you had shared your own compartment on the train ride home, others finding their own cubbies as Tom scared them off from sitting with you. Your head was rested on his shoulder as he read a muggle book to you that you had bought the previous summer ‘the great gatsby’. It was a deep and considerate book and made you think about your future, also.
“What’re we going to do now?” You ask out of the blue, interrupting his sentence as he simply closes his book and looks down at you, your face deep in thought. “Well,” he hummed, thinking for a moment. “We’ve booked that cottage in the Peak District for a few weeks, how about we think it all out then?” And you nod. “Sounds like a plan then.”
The next few weeks were spent waking together in the high peaks of the muggle countryside, simply talking and appreciating one another’s company and plotting your lives.
“Is it bad that I want to stay here forever?” You ask him, looking out at the sunsetting one warm winter evening. Tom thinks thoughtfully before saying “if it is then it’s bad that I want to stay here too.” As a pureblood witch you were born under the believe that muggle life was pointless and undeserving, and as had Tom - but together you realised you preferred the quiet and solitary, and not needing to use magic to do everything all of the time. It was a change. And it was nice.
One morning mid-august Tom was reading the newspaper and you were making you both toast. “Someone’s selling the property up the street.” He says and you sip on your drink and look out of the window. “What? The old farmhouse.” “No, the one with the long drive and vines up the side.” You sigh dreamily. “Oh, if only.” You say with a chuckle. “Darling we can afford it.” Tom says and you stay in silence for a moment, sharing the thoughts weaving through your minds. “It wouldn’t take up a large chunk of our savings.” He drops his reading glasses to the end of his nose and smirks. “We’re rich in muggle terms.” You laugh and shake your head at him. “You’re so humble, Riddle.” He stands up and slides his hands around your waist to hold you close as you share the view of the house in question. “We’re buying it.” He spoke after a while, finalising his decision. “What happened to the ‘I hate muggles and never want to be amongst them’?” You ask, turning to him with a cocked brow. He just shrugs. “They were Voldemort’s views. Not mine.”
Matter several months going back and forth with the previous owners and settling on an asking price, you were standing in front of the house- your house, beside tom, exactly how you had when you were leaving Hogwarts. “This is our house.” You say, not taking your eyes off of the scenic view before you. Tom takes you into his side and rubs your arm comfortingly before kissing your temple. “Our home.”
Tom became an Auror, acting as an undercover wizard in the muggle setting catching and reporting any source of dark or unrightfully used magic. You took up being a healer, training in the wizarding world but practising in your home village, being known as a respectable young doctor who all the elderly or adjacent citizens resided in to get treatment - and anything you gave them always worked.
It was a spring morning when you were down at the bakery picking up a loaf of bread for your dinners. “How’s that fella of yours?” The lady asked with a smirk. “Oh Tom’s fine, just left for work.” “Popped the question yet?” The old woman asks, elbowing you slightly. “We’re only twenty Agatha!” You say with a laugh. “Well, Arthur and I were married when we were nineteen.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you were telling me how much you hated him?” You laugh. “Oh he gets on my wire, but we were still married!”
That left you with the thought in your mind for the remainder of the day - you’d decided that Tom Riddle was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and then some.
In February you both took a trip down to the Lake District and rented a boat house with a large lake, your jobs and ‘trust funds’ inherited from family members allowed you to do this rather frequently and easily, nothing out of the ordinary to take a trip for a long weekend.
It was at sunset, rather early due to daylight saving hours when you rowed out onto the lake to just sit in tranquility for a little while, appreciating the quiet time together. You’d rose to your feet, sure that you had seen an owl fly by and when you turned around, Tom was on one knee, box in hand. In the box, the ring of Salazar Slytherin himself with a bunch of roses in the other.
“Agatha told me today is Cupid’s holiday.” He say, voice just beyond a whisper as a smile grew on your face and tears formed. “You know, until I was sixteen I was asphyxiated with the idea of taking over the world, finding a victim to take the pain that I felt. But those silly little thoughts were gone when I met you, the only person I live and breathe for. I never thought I could, however I love you, yn ln. And it would do me great honour if you would be my wife.”
You’d kissed and hugged him and wept into his shoulder as you happily embraced - ready to start the rest of your lives together. There were no other young women in the village and your parents had practically alienated you when you went to live with muggles so the ladies who attended your doctors practise took you shopping for your wedding dress - Tom insisted on paying.
Dolly was brutally honest and Susan started crying, Agatha kissed you and called you her daughter and it was certainly a day to remember - a gorgeous fitting dress, white and highlighting your features gracefully.
You’d gotten married in the village church, an audience of your neighbours and close friends and a few companions from school, Agatha was your maid of honour and Greta your flower girl, gleaming smile on her face while her husband rolled her down the isle in her wheelchair while she sassily threw rose petals. And Dumbledore was sat in the front row, a smart suit on while he smiled at the man the little evil boy turned out to be, and the gorgeous woman you had flourished into.
It was a beautiful ceremony and a beautiful day. And you were now the beautiful yn Riddle.
In September, Abraxas Malfoy and his wife wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary and asked if they would drop their son, Lucius off for the week so they could go away. You and Tom decided to take the week off work and look after him, after all, the young lad needed to be accustomed to his god parents!
One evening Lucius had pleaded with you to go sit in the garden and paint together and of course you complied, taking the supplied and the young boy on your hip, and headed for the grass to make a mess. And make a mess you did, there was red in your hair and blue on his white libel shirt, and hardly anything on the page. Tom watched from the window sipping on a cup of tea, watching as you interacted with the young boy so naturally, tickling his stomach and laughing as you played hidey-boo. It created an odd twang in his stomach, the same he had felt when he had first laid eyes on you.
One day when the boy had been reunited with his parents, Tom had been sent on a mission to retrieve an escaped boggart. During his time at Hogwarts, his biggest was recognisably his own dead corpse, but when he approached the creature, it’s form was your grave with him sat looking deathly ill beside it weeping. Your headstone read ‘a loving wife and doctor, no children’ his stomach dropped when he realised what he needed. What he needed right now.
He got home that night and held you close and cried, feeling you warm and full of life. You caressed his shaking body as you soothes him, and when he had calmed he had taken your face into his hands and cradled it, telling you suddenly “yn I want a baby.”
Throughout your pregnancy, Tom was tender and reluctant to let you move without him being beside you. He became more protective than he already was an even took an extended paternity leave just before your due date.
Prior to that however, he worshiped you like a goddess. He would make you decaf tea - something you grumbled about but he refused to listen. He stopped smoking his pipe inside the house, instead taking it to the end of the garden while he and Mr Garson next door chatted about his wife and you. He made you lay on the settee and sat on the floor beside your growing stomach while he read old wives tales from a book inherited from his mother. He even sang to it once or twice. After the sixth month mark when your belly was becoming noticeably plump to the point you could rest your tea cup upon it without it falling off, he began carrying you everywhere. Regardless of how far the distance, and the fact you were carrying another human, he acted as though you were a feather that needed assistance and carried you the way he did on your wedding night.
When you took your own maternity leave, he was even more pleased - before he’d sit beside you in your doctors office and never took his eyes off of you, now he needn’t a reason to why. In his eyes, his love was pregnant and needed tending too. He’d shower with you and lift your stomach until he saw the face of satisfaction he knew well and loved. And he’d be lying if he said the breasts you were growing didn’t make his mouth water, as well as the fact there was a possibility that he could impregnate a pregnant woman - a thought that drove him wild but alas after many attempts, it was eventually an unsuccessful mission.
And in the next July, Tom was sweating as he held your hand and felt a great pain as you cried in agony beside him. You were in a muggle hospital, Agatha had awoken in the middle of the night and heard your pained cries and ordered her husband, Mr Garson to drive you to the hospital which he did, adjusting his thick-lenses on his glasses and having to be awoken a few times at the wheel from Tom’s furious barks, but you made it on one piece, and at quarter to ten, you produced him a son, deciding on naming him Mattheo Riddle.
After giving him a bath, the midwife’s tried to take him away ‘give you a break’, but you refused. Groggily saying “I’ve only had him ten minutes why would I need a break.” And Tom soon shooed them off, getting into the bed beside you and holding your son skin-to-skin as he slept on his fathers chest, and you on his shoulder. When you drifted off he kissed the top of your head gently and whispered sweetly “well done, mummy.”
Tom was determined to be the father he didn’t have. And a good one at that.
Mr and Mrs Garson cried when you asked them to be the godparents, you would’ve appointed the role to everyone in this village if you could - your own little family larger than it seemed.
The newborn stage went by awefully fast and you and Tom self with every hurdle and hiccup together, all the nappies and sick, and the 3AM walks when baby Matty would not settle. It was gone and soon you had a walking talking toddler of whom you were both awfully proud of.
The chilly autumnal eves suddenly turned into even colder winter morns, Christmas was making its rounds in the muggle world and you and Tom had became accustomed to it. You decorated the tree, hung candles, sung carols, gave presents and ate specialty meals on the 25th. Tom sat in his armchair, Mattheo on lap, reading glasses down to the end of his nose as he read A Christmas Carol to him.
You were making dinner, Mince Pie was on the menu that night in particular, and you smiled as you notice the snow falling. You wiped your hands and leant against the doorframe watching your two boys in awe, just memorising the picture for a moment. “Are you alright, my love?” Tom asked, smiling up at you. “Just admiring the picture.” You say, mirroring his grin. Then you turn to your son. “I’m awfully sorry to interrupt, master Riddle. However, so I do believe it is snowing.” He gasped dramatically when he heard the news. “Snow! But we’re reading! But snow!” You both laugh at his dilemma then suggest “how about we eat dinner, then we’ll read out in the snow and make a snowman.” The young boy squeals in delight and runs to the dining room to eat, sitting ever so patiently yet with an impatient smile on those cheeky lips.
That evening you built a snowman, read the last part of the book, and put your son peacefully to sleep in his bed after singing ‘Silent Night’ to him. You and Tom basked in the sight for a moment, just taking in the calmness of the setting.
And as Tom looked down at you, he thought of how you’d changed him.
*scoff* Lord Voldemort, who’d ever heard of anything so ridiculous?
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thef1diary · 1 month
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Love Unwrapped | L. Norris
Summary: after mutually breaking up, you and Lando drifted apart. However, on your birthday, Lando shows up unexpectedly with a gift, reigniting old feelings.
— part of the Birthday Bash fics
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warnings: angst if you squint, fluff.
pairing: lando x fem!ex!reader
wc: 1.6k
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As you sit alone in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of the moonlight casting dancing shadows on the walls, you can't help but feel a twinge of loneliness. It's your birthday, but this year feels different somehow—empty, without the usual excitement and celebration.
Just as you resign yourself to a quiet night in, there's a sudden knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts. Surprised, you glance at the clock. Who could it be at this hour?
Opening the door reveals a familiar figure standing on your doorstep, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. It's Lando, holding a small gift bag in his hand and a larger bag in the other.
"Hey," he says, his voice warm yet tentative. "Happy birthday."
Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. "Lando? You remembered?"
He chuckles softly, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Of course I did. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Mind if I come in?"
You step aside, allowing him entry into your humble abode. "Of course, come on in."
As Lando enters, you can't help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance—the confidence in his posture, the newfound ease in his smile. It's as if he's grown in the time since you last saw him, even if it was just one month ago.
"Take a seat," you offer, gesturing towards the couch. "Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?"
Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, thanks. I'm good."
You both settle onto the couch, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thick fog. It feels like it's been so long since you've been alone together like this, and the unfamiliarity of the situation is palpable.
"So, um, how have you been?" Lando finally breaks the silence, his voice hesitant.
You sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness flooding through you. "I've been okay, I guess. Just trying to keep busy with work and stuff. How about you?"
He nods, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, same here. Work's been keeping me pretty occupied."
You nod but hold back on mentioning that you have been following his season in Formula One, watching every race despite the ungodly hours it required you to wake up at.
The conversation falls into a comfortable rhythm as you catch up on each other's lives, sharing stories and laughter like old times. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there's a sense of familiarity between you that refuses to fade.
Suddenly, Lando reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a neatly wrapped box, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, got you something."
Your eyes widen in surprise as he hands you the gift. "You didn't have to," you mumble, aching to tell him that his presence was enough.
"Open it."
With trembling hands, you carefully unwrap the gift, your heart pounding in anticipation. When you finally open the box, you're met with the sight of something you've always wanted—beautiful dainty necklace adorned with smaller diamonds, one that you'd admired countless times in the store but could never bring yourself to buy.
You've been saving up for this dainty piece for a while, but never expected that Lando would give it to you as a gift.
You're speechless, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. Lando watches you anxiously, waiting for your reaction.
Finally, you manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "Lando, this is... It's amazing, thank you.”
He smiles warmly at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can't quite place. "I saw you staring at it at the store a while back, so I thought this would be the right moment to get it for you."
You're overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, by the fact that he remembered something so small yet meaningful. It's a reminder of why you fell for him in the first place.
"You know," Lando begins, his voice soft but filled with sincerity, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately... about us."
Your heart skips a beat at his words, uncertainty mingling with anticipation in the air between you. "Oh? What about us?"
He shifts slightly on the couch, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I miss what we had," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken longing. "The late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the way we just... fit together."
You swallow hard, the memories of your time together flooding back with startling clarity. "I miss those things too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando reaches out, his hand finding yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign. "I know we said we'd remain friends," he says, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, "but... I can't shake the feeling that there's still something between us. Something worth fighting for."
His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and uncertainty. For a moment, neither of you knows what to say, the silence stretching on uncomfortably.
He wasn't wrong, you had parted as a couple but still promised to remain friends. That promise was left unfulfilled because of your different lives taking you on different paths. It was the reason why you had broken up in the first place.
Then, you gather your courage, meeting his gaze with determination. "I feel it too," you confess, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "But... I'm scared, Lando. Scared of our love not being enough for each other again."
Lando nods in understanding, his eyes filled with empathy as he squeezes your hand gently. "I know," he murmurs. "But maybe... maybe we can take things slow this time. See where it leads us."
The idea fills you with both excitement and trepidation, the prospect of rekindling your relationship mingling with the fear of repeating past events. But as you sit there together, the warmth of his hand in yours, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, this time things will be different.
As the night wears on, the comforting embrace of conversation wraps around you and Lando like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had lingered in the air.
The soft flicker of birthday candles illuminates the room as he holds the cake for you, waiting for you to make a wish and blow it out.
You look at him before closing your eyes, already knowing what you want to wish for before blowing out the few lit candles in one quick breath.
You say, "I can't believe you got me a cake," as you cut into the rich chocolate cake and give him a slice on a plate before taking one for yourself.
Lando chuckles, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Of course I did. After all, what's a birthday without cake?"
You smile, the sweetness of the gesture warming your heart. "It's delicious. Thank you, Lan." The nickname easily slips from your tongue, as if you never stopped saying it, and his heart warms knowing the feeling of familiarity never died down.
As you continue to talk and laugh, the clock on the wall ticks closer and closer to midnight, marking the end of your birthday. But for now, in the glow of moonlight and the warmth of Lando's company, time seems to stand still.
Eventually, the inevitable moment arrives when Lando has to leave. You walk him to the door, the weight of the conversation earlier hanging heavy in the air between you.
Lando turns to face you, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "I don't want to rush things," he begins, his voice soft but determined, "but I also don't want to let this chance slip away."
You nod, meeting his gaze with hope, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "I don't either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
With a gentle smile, Lando reaches out and cups your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. His thumb brushes against your lips, feeling the softness he desperately wants to feel against his own lips.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice still soft in fear of ruining the moment. Placing your palm on his cheek, you nod.
Without wasting another moment, he closes the gap between you, placing his lips on yours.
For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you standing there in the middle of your apartment, joined by the shimmering moonlight. As you fall back into the familiarity of his lips on yours, you realize that this is where you belong—here, in Lando's arms.
It's a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a kiss that speaks of new beginnings and endless love.
When you finally pull away, your heart is pounding in your chest, the warmth of Lando's lips lingering on yours like a sweet memory.
"I'll give you some space to think about it," he says, his thumb brushing against your skin in a tender caress. "But just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready.”
You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. But as you watch him leave your apartment, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips—a smile filled with hope for the future, and the possibility of love rekindled.
Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @landoslutmeout @barcelonaloverf1life @megudaeggu @c-losur3 @oliviah-25 @regalbanshee
845 notes · View notes
plasticferal · 6 months
Note
can u plsss write a Matt smut where the reader is like obsessed with his teeth and then she kind of jokes ab licking his teeth but shes not actually joking and then u know the rest
take it or leave it | matt sturniolo.
authors note: this was so fun to write. here’s some kind of soft, lust filled bff!matt turned lovers.
warnings: fem reader, not obscene or 18+ but read at your own discretion. a lot of dialogue, light biting, mark leaving, explicit language.
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you just can't stop staring at your best friend. all he's doing is chewing on a paper straw, swirling it around his soft drink. his eyes are glued to his screen, scrolling through his phone, both of his elbows planted on the dining table.
"i can feel you staring," matt talks with the straw still in his mouth, flashing his perfect teeth with a conceited smirk. you scoff, digging your fork back into the dessert that sits in front of you, to avoid the interrogation you feel coming your way.
"i didn't say stop," you feel his eyes burn holes into you, tone earnest and deep, just waiting for you to glance up at him again.
"wasn't even staring," you speak through a muffled mouthful of cake, not caring if he sees the food in your mouth. he's the closest person in your life, he's probably seen worse.
"real sexy, kid" he teases, staring at your mouth and chuckling as you cover it to swallow your food, flipping him off from across the table.
"no for real, what were you looking at? like be specific," he asks, placing his phone screen down on the table, shuffling in his chair and adjusting his posture. you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he's on about.
"i can't just admire my best friend?" you sarcastically smile and bat your eyelashes at him, resting your chin into the palm of your hands.
"specifics, go." matt isn't having it, and you drop the act fast.
you ponder on your answer for a moment, or at least pretend to. you know exactly what you want to say but you don't need him getting a big head. well, bigger. he's a walking, talking, humble brag. especially around you.
"ah, okaaaay," you pout your lips with contemplation.
"your eyes i guess. they're pretty. you know that, though" you shrug, prodding at your dessert again, not having any intention on finishing it at this point. matt has you cornered with his new train of thought.
"boring, next." he deadpans, throwing his head back with an eye roll before looking at you again. he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back leisurely.
"fine. ah, your teeth. i'm like obsessed with them. is that a better answer?" you quip, grabbing your plate and pushing away from the table to make your way to the sink.
you hear matt behind you let out an audible "huh?" and can picture the confusion on his face. you don't know what it is about his teeth, or his smile in general. you just get stunned at how perfect they are, the way they just suit his face so much.
they just look like they could form the perfect bite in your skin. he's always chewing a new flavoured gum, flashing them subtly past his perfectly pink lips, and his breath always smells nice. it's weirdly inviting. all thoughts you absolutely shouldn't be having about matthew.
"hang on, rewind. my teeth?" there's an amused underlining to his response, and you just wish you could take back what you said, joke or not.
you rinse the plate off and immediately ignore him, drying your hands with paper towel before bee-lining for the bin in the small dark corner of the room.
"you got your answer, matthew. get over it," you exhale, tossing it into the black rubbish bag.
"no no, i'm not done with you yet," you hear his chair make a disturbing scratchy squeak against the vinyl floors with how fast he pushes his chair back, following where your body is moving.
you walk around the dining table in the opposite direction of him, but he changes directions to match yours. you collapse onto the couch, sitting cross legged and he falls into the spot right next to you, despite having the entire couch. your shoulders are touching and his knee his touching yours.
"you were staring at my teeth and now i need to know why," matt requests, leaning one elbow up on the back of the couch, facing you completely.
"i can't answer tha-"
"y/n" he cuts you off seriously.
"i don't know, okay? drop it, matthew." you push back with frustration, not understanding why he can't. it's either he's pushing your buttons on purpose or he can sense the subject easily taking a turn in a different direction.
"i'm not trying to piss you off. i just wanted know. sorry" his voice softens, and he shifts so he's facing the t.v.
you almost feel bad snapping at him, considering you instigated his reaction in the first place by not justifying it straight away.
you bite your nails, trying to avoid talking. it's so hard with matt. he just always brings it out of you. looking at him while he watches the screen ahead of you just makes you yearn to hear his voice again. he's so quiet for the most part that when you get him out of his shell you don't ever want him to stop.
"i've always liked your teeth. i don't know what it is. i wish i could explain it but i can't," you speak shyly, a very rare feeling around him.
you have literally shared every waking thought with this man. it just feels so different when it involves him personally. on a physical descriptive level. matt leans his head back on the massive couch cushion, giving you a lazy half grin, looking up at you through hooded eyes.
"do you just like staring at them or do you wanna like, touch them?" he flashes his teeth like a vampire, and you push his face away with a laugh, knowing he's teasing with good intention. he chuckles, pushing your own hand back into your body.
"you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"
"not until i can wrap my head around it, no" he folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and they disappear under his oversized hoodie, snickering at his own defence.
he looks you in the eyes, the same fiery stare he gives you when he's about to say something out of pocket, you can read him like a book.
"you wanna touch 'em?"
"matt," you scold, knowing whatever he has planned is just to keep this joke lingering. or what you think is a joke to him.
"i'm serious, let's see if we can get to the bottom of this little fetish of yours" he's so pleased with his words, grinning like an idiot as he nestles his face closer to yours.
"i'd get more pleasure out of it with my tongue," you chortle, then pause suddenly, not believing what you just said out loud.
you force your face to plaster a look on it that says 'i'm joking' but there's no part of what you just said that matt is taking comically.
"go on." matt replies.
"what's gotten into you, tonight?" you have a half simper half befuddled look as you lean back to make sure you're seeing him right.
making sure you're speaking to matt, not someone posing as him with how bold and absurd he's been acting for the past few minutes. he's always being flirtatious, in a bantering and unalloyed manner. this felt different, he's being a lot more direct. a lot less blithe.
"i am literally giving you one chance to do this and then i'm never bringing it up again. take it or leave it, y/n"
"open your mouth, then.” you say in a ‘i bet you won’t’ tone, not believing he actually will. you’re taken aback when he tilts his head up lightly, an innocent look on his face when he parts his mouth, creating a perfect oval.
“you’re seriously okay with this?” you ask, beginning to lean forward, tempting and just waiting for the moment he pulls away, or snaps his mouth closed. he nods, mouth still open.
you know him well enough by now to understand that when matt says he’ll never mention it again, he means it. he’s petty like that.
“fuck it, m’god” you mumble, cupping the side of his jaw, fingertips resting under his ear and being tickled by his hair, pulling him to you.
your breaths intertwine as you hover over his mouth, your lips don’t touch when you poke your tongue out and let it slide behind his top teeth and trail across the sharp edge, slowly, left to right. when you pull away, you observe him.
matt closes his mouth, sucking his teeth and plastering a thoughtful look on his face. you wait for his response.
“well?” you can only wait for so long before you’re trying to entice him to say something, anything.
he adjusts himself on the lounge, full body facing you at this point, if he was pushed up any closer he’d be on top of you.
“just like, out of curiosity. can you do it again?” he asks bashfully. he did say take it or leave it. so you take it, while he’s dangling it in front of you.
this time, you curve your hand gently around the back of his neck to guide his face. tilting your head slightly before pulling him in. you lick the back of the teeth again, even slower than the first time. you can feel matt holding his breath, and the taste of the root beer he just had still lingering.
matt takes a deep breath when you part from him again, flaring his nostrils slightly and sucking on the inside of his cheek. he looks confused, in a content way. but confused nonetheless.
you stare at him, memorising this look on his face. without breaking his stare with you, matt reaches for a pillow and throws it over his lower body, holding it in place. before he has a chance to set it onto his lap, you glance down to see the bulge forming under his black shorts.
“did you like my tongue in your mouth, matthew?” your words are jovial, but he turns away from you after you question him, looking quite literally anywhere else.
“no-i,i mean. fuck, i don't know. no." he rambles, response being faster than his brain can even register, not pulling out the best choice of words from his vocabulary.
“no? is that why you let me do it twice?” you tease, turning the table on him.
"you're right," he pauses.
"maybe we should make it three. for good luck." he looks back at you with a red hue on his cheeks, simpering smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hugs the pillow on his lap.
"only if you ask nicely," you squint your eyes, and he rolls his.
"i'm not beggin' for it. no way." he shakes his head, boston accent coming through a lot thicker when he's defensive. it happens a lot, and that's how you know you have him cornered.
"your call, matty. take it or leave it." the front you're putting on for him is a fraud, having a gut feeling that it's the only cue he needs to surrender. he's silent for a solid minute.
"fuck, jesus, okay." he finishes, grabbing your face this time. he caresses your jaw, and his touch is so firm and so warm.
the pillow between your bodies is like a barrier, but he pushes up against it hard to bring you as close to his face as you can. you brace yourself for him to open his mouth again, but instead, your lips collide.
your eyes close instinctively and his soft, wet lips move with yours, taking your bottom lip between the kiss, and letting his tongue slide in and dance across your own. slowly he pulls away, fluttering inches over your mouth instead of distancing himself.
"i don't know, i don't know why i just-" matt is still touching your face through his panic-stricken words.
you don't even counter his sentence before grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him back to your mouth. you shove the pillow off the lounge in-between your bodies with your knee while shifting your body weight onto his lap, an easy transition considering how close you've been the whole time.
matt grabs your waist immediately, securing you on top of him and deepening the kiss. you feel your throat shake with his small, desirous moan into your mouth. you sink all of your body weight onto him and can feel his dick underneath you growing harder, heat radiating from between his legs.
the kiss becomes heavier, more desperate and messy, missing each others mouths and clashing your teeth, taking breaths for a split second before attacking each other's lips again. your nails dig into his shoulders and matt's hands lower, stationing on your upper thigh.
you're in such a state of disbelief but ignore every doubt or worry you're forcing yourself to have. you've mentally convinced yourself this is a dream. you're not actually grinding into your bestfriend's groin, making out with him and having his thumbs get closer and closer to your heat, feeling wet already at the friction.
matt kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek bone, the tip of your nose, then your jaw. he trails the kisses on your jaw lower and lower, grazing his teeth along your delicate skin until he reaches he crease of your neck just under your ear, and you lean into him as much as you possibly can.
"you like my teeth so much, wait until you see what they can do to your neck," he forces deeply against your skin, biting at your earlobe.
"god, matt," you exhale.
you feel a sharp, stinging suck to your neck, making you gasp. he pulls your skin into his mouth, tongue rubbing the area that he's suffocating in his bite. he pulls away, making a sharp sound when he lets go. he repeats the same thing just underneath his first bite, and your body is twisting and distorting in his arms. you tug at his hair with a warning.
"you’re gonna have to explain those marks." you tremble, yet not stopping him. he taunts a stifled laugh.
"don't care," he starts, pulling your shirt off your shoulder and sucking another deep purple mark on your collar bone.
"i'll spell my name out on your skin if i have to." it’s like he’s a trance, trailing his middle finger along the bites he just left before looking up at you with a dazed smile.
his chest is rising and falling prominently, both of you catching your breath after the intense session. matt gently presses his lips to yours again, and you lean your forehead against his. he grips at the bottom hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.
"if i knew my teeth would get you on top of me, i would have let you lick em' sooner," he has a crooked, dopey grin on his face. you blush, flustered at his words.
"is this is insane? you don't think you're gonna regret it?" you're cautious with your words, voice gentle, head still leaning against his and your fingers playing with the hair creeping on the nape of his neck.
"i could never regret you." he shakes his head softly, making you smile and peck another gentle kiss on his lips. you know he means his words, and they make you want to melt into a puddle.
"smile for me quickly," you banter, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at his face properly.
he covers his face with his big hands and you let out a hearty laugh, attempting to pry them off and begging him to stop hiding.
"matt! you'll let me shove my tongue down your throat but can't smile for me?" your stomach hurts with the laughter caused by the sheer fight he's putting up covering his face.
when you finally get him to drop his hands he has the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. smiling ear to ear, and eyes closed shut, putting on a show for you. he drops his face quickly once you've had your time to look, and has those signature tired and heavy eyes make an appearance once again.
you lean in, slowly, so slow. your face is drawing him in like a magnet, him following your moves to meet in the middle. he flashes his teeth once again, and you run the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, feeling his teeth too, budging his mouth open.
"now you're just taking advantage of it," his raspy voice speaks, pulling you back to his mouth by your neck and leading with his tongue, letting it slide in and moaning into your parted lips. they finally sink into each others after teasing each other, seeing who falls into the kiss first.
your tongues fight for dominance and matt grabs the back of your neck hard, forcing you to stay where you are. you're tilting left and he's tilting right as you focus on breathing through your nose to stay attached to each other as long as you can.
you can literally feel matt take his time to explore your mouth, circling every inch he possibly can. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard, making you gasp before pulling back and letting go, both of your mouths wet and glistening with each others saliva.
matt wipes your mouth with his thumb, applying enough pressure but still being gentle. he's staring at your skin before his eyes fixate on those marks he left earlier.
"oh fuck, they're pretty bad" he giggles, and you roll off his lap with a groan, slapping your hand over your neck as if to hide them from him. your legs drape over his thighs and you can feel him looking at you.
you hide from him by sinking into the lounge for no good reason other than you think somehow it'll make the marks disappear, or manifest that it does.
"i didn't even bring makeup to cover it," you fake cry, seeing how bad it could make him feel, but he doesn't budge. matt slaps your thigh as if to say 'i'm not buying it' then rubs your legs soothingly.
"you're not covering them up. i won't let you leave the house if you do, no other option." matt is demanding but lighthearted in his words.
"oh no, i can't leave, what a shame," you dramatically flail your hand to your temple like an old school movie scene, and matt pokes your rib to get you to snap out of it.
"if you ever want to see my teeth again i'd watch the dramatics, honey" and those words coming from him alone make you cut the act, flushing red and sitting up properly.
you don't know how he's managed to whip you into line, usually being the other way around, but you're not risking it.
you've somehow taken more than you could ever ask for from him, and you're still anxious that you've bitten off more than you can chew. no pun intended.
regardless, you're in ignorant bliss. you'll take everything you can get from matt, and more, if he's willing to give it to you. which at this point, you're sure he is.
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bvidzsoo · 7 months
Text
Grease and Oil
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⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳
TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it
Word count: 5,6k
A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!
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            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.
I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.
“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”
Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”
He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.
“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.
“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.
“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”
Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.
“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.
“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.
“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”
Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”
Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.
“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.
“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.
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            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.
“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.
“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.
And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”
“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”
“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.
“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.
“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.
“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”
“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”
Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.
“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.
“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”
“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.
“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”
I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.
“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.
“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.
“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.
“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.
“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.
“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.
“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.
“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”
Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.
“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.
            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.
“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.
“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”
My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.
“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”
I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.
“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”
But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.
“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.
“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.
“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.
“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”
“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”
Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”
His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”
“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”
“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.
“That we should go for a second round—”
“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”
Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”
I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”
“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.
“I thought I smelled hot—”
“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”
“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”
“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.
“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.
“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.
“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.
“Goodbye, Mingi.”
“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.
Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?
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dominantslasherking · 8 months
Text
Patrick Bateman with Dominant Male S/o
My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+
Backstory: Patrick had always mistaken his jealousy for you to be out of wanting what you want, to be like you, when it was in fact that Patrick was jealous because he couldn't be with you. Patrick wants to show you how much he wants you, by getting on his knees like a good boy. (BTW you're his boss) Warnings: Needy Patrick Bateman. Bratty Patrick Bateman. Submissive Patrick bateman
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"Mr. Bateman?"
His assistant's voice was drowned out by his raving thoughts, his still face urked something deeper on the inside. Patrick's breath halted as he watched you enter the meeting room. Patrick''s eyes fixated on you, the object of his all-consuming fixation, You, wearing a designer suit so exquisitely tailored. "The stitching was so fine that it could have been performed by angels, and the black silk tie, perfectly knotted, was a stark contrast to the snowy white dress shirt beneath. His cuffs peeked out just enough, revealing pristine, perfectly aligned links that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light."
Patrick's inner monologue continued to obsess over your suit and how it was tailor-made, and it made Patrick grit his teeth a bit that you one-upped him with your tailor-made, and currently-in-style suit.
Patrick was snapped out of his intense thinking as you greeted him, your large and veiny hand, taking in his own. "Pleasure, once again Mr Bateman." Your humble and husky voice rang. Patrick gave a fake smile. "Of course." You could tell that Patrick held back his greetings of praise was that jealousy written on his face? The business meeting continued on normally, Patrick always sparing you passing glances, a mixture of emotions displayed in his eyes.
<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>> The next scene was at Dorsia, the place Patrick could never get into, but he was oh so shocked to receive an invitation from you of all people.
But Patrick was just happy he could get in, he wore a fake smile, his best suit, and a pretty woman at his side. Patrick's smile instantly fell when he saw you, with a breathtaking woman, more beautiful than the one at his side.
But it wasn't jealousy of the woman you had, it was something more, that Patrick couldn't place just yet.
"Don't worry, the meal is on me." You politely stated, as Patrick's intense gaze lifted up from the menu and onto you for a brief moment, a mutter under his breath, something incoherent, but, you could tell he was mocking you. Slowly you rested your face lightly on your knuckles amused by him, how come you have never noticed such a handsome yet bratty worker? Not only that but when the waiter came over, you saw a sinister grin place itself on Patrick's face as he smiled showing off his pearly teeth. "I think I'll indulge in the 'Golden Elixir of Ostentation,'" Patrick said purposely ordering the most expensive alcoholic beverage on the menu, he was clearly reveling in his choice. It seemed he was expecting you to protest in a sense, but you straightened up your posture a bit and gave a small nod. "Make that two bottles." "The bratty veneer I had carefully cultivated crumbled away. It was a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time - the desire to submit." Patrick had thought. His face fell into one of stillness and unease.
<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>
Patrick opened his mouth, letting your fingers enter. Patrick's tongue rolled around, licking and slurping on your fingers, as he then began to suck, maintaining eye contact with you. On his knees, in your fancy penthouse is where the current setting was. Patrick was already stripped of most of his suit, his suit's jacket laying somewhere, Tie gone, his white dress shirt unbuttoned nearly fully, his hair a mess. "[Name].." Patrick's voice was muffled and breathless as he tried to speak with your fingers in his mouth, his eyes were a bit droopy with lust.
"In that instant, the power dynamics shifted, and I found myself navigating a treacherous new territory, craving his attention and approval more than ever before." --- Patrick Bateman.
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yandere-romanticaa · 10 months
Text
・❥・𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.
what happens when lyney's feelings become too strong to handle? however is he going to deal with his crippling heartache and desire?
yandere! lyney x gn! reader.
This fic was partially inspired by the song "Wanna be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys. Admittedly, he's not the first character I'd associate with this band but I really wanted a snazzy sounding title. I also personally characterize this boy as a lovesick little fool so the song can stay.
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If given a better option, most people will naturally chase after that which is more beneficial for them. Be it studies, entertainment or social circles, almost anything in someone's life could easily be replaced in a heartbeat.
That same sentiment could be applied to lovers as well.
What's to say that you won't wake up to your senses one day and leave Lyney for good? He tries to give you everything a person could ever hope for - he spoils you with gifts and his most undivided attention, his words are so sweet that they could rival the sweetest of candies. Unlike the empty candy though, Lyney's words are all true, he means absolutely everything he ever says to you. He can't exactly pinpoint the time when he fell head over heels but that didn't matter. Every time he looked at you it felt as though someone lit fireworks in his stomach, his smooth facade would melt away like ice and he was left completely defenseless. He was weak and at your mercy, he was yours to take and yours to love. Every single piece of Lyney belonged to you, his body, mind and soul, you owned all of him and didn't even know it.
How many nights did the two of you spend under the stars with Lyney by your side, his hot breath fanning your ear as he proclaimed his undying love to you, gloved hands twitching in anticipation to hold and caress your body. He loved to touch you in any way he could, physical affection was something the magician simply needed. If you didn't give him at least his good morning and good afternoon kiss, Lyney would always be in a sour mood, which would force his crew to send someone to fetch you in order to remedy this problem. Yes, Lyney loved you very much, the sweet red apple of his eye.
He just wished you loved him as much as he loved you.
Worry would often plague his heart whenever he'd catch you conversing with anyone that was not him or his siblings. Despite his solid reputation he was still but a humble magician at the end of the day.
Did you wish for something more? Were you not satisfied with him?
There were so many people out there who could give you everything Lyney could not. His ties with the Fatui also do not help his case, even if his motives remained pure. Naturally, he never had the heart to tell you that he belonged to that organization, for he feared that you would leave him right then and there. Lyney would often find himself waking at the dead of night, his mind and body restless due to the dreams he would have. Each and every one was always centered around you and it was almost always the same - he would come clean about everything, his past, his work, ties to the Fatui, everything. Tears would cake his face and he would lower his gaze towards the ground, shame pooling in his eyes. He would turn his back and say he doesn't expect any sort of sympathy from you. With a hunched posture he would take a few steps, the black boots on his feet feeling heavier than iron, the chains around his heart tightening further as the circumstances in his life would force him to leave everything he built with you. Just as the rain would hit the ground and Lyney would feel your arms around his waist, your soft lips pressed against the crook of his neck. You would hold him like that for who knows how long, promising that you would never, ever leave. You loved him, there was nothing that would change that.
Those dreams left him longing for more, his paranoia skyrocketing through the roof and deep into the night. He can't lose you, if Lyney lost you, he...
It doesn't bare thinking about.
As shaky as things were now, they were alright. He was going to make them better, stronger. He was a magician, making impossible things possible were literally in his job description. He would make sure that your love was reserved for him and no one else in this world.
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sublimespiritoracle · 2 years
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That is also work of grace. #humble #champions #posturing #gracious (at Mumbai, Maharashtra) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgI5gGfqWrk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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cryptotheism · 8 months
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Ranking Every Large Monster in Monster Hunter Rise by How Tasty I Think They Would Be:
A TIER - Delicious Tier. Monsters that are prized for their delicious meat. The tier reserved for luxury meats like foie gras, or wagyu beef. 
Tetranodon [A+]
Luxurious, fatty, versatile, and convenient. These massive omnivorous amphibians cushion their ponderous weight with layers of marbled fat. Shanks are delicious spit-roasted over an open flame, or breaded and fried in their own drippings. Neck, and breasts are cubed for stew meat and stuffed back into the shell with herbs for pit baking. Butt and sirloin are slow-cooked in clay pots to reduce in their own fat like fine carnitas. 
Jyuratodus [A]
These omnivorous filter-feeders are prized in-universe for their meat. Its bipedal stance but fishlike physiology imply a meat somewhere between salmon, catfish, and chicken. Denser thighs are cut into steaks and smoked. The more muscular sirloin is butterflied and deep-fried like catfish filets. The fatty brisket would be the finest cut, reserved for sushi. 
Lagombi [A-]
The already-delicious rabbit, evolved for long-pursuit sub-arctic grazing. Powerful hip joints cushioned by layers of cold-resistant fat. The lagombi would produce a brisket fit for the pinnacles of sephardic cuisine, basted in honey, orange juice, prunes, and apricots. Shoulder and rump should be sliced thin, basted with herbs and oil, and used for gyros. 
(Long Post Ahead)
B TIER - Ordinary Tier. Monsters that can be eaten, and eaten well. The tier of humble, everyday meats like chicken, pork, and beef. 
Great Izuchi / Great Wroggi / Great Baggi [B+]
The chicken of monster hunter ecology. When butchered and clipped of their poison sacs, claws and feet, I can imagine these beasts whole roasted like a holiday turkey, or spit roasted like rotisserie chicken. Given their tails and posture, I imagine they taste slightly oily and gamey, closer to pheasant or game hen than chicken, but still wholly within the realm of chicken. 
Kulu-Ya-Ku [B+] 
A leaner, more agile cousin of the great Izuchi. Similar to Cornish game hen, their limbs produce less meat, but their bodies are traditionally eaten stuffed with herbs, and basted with fat during baking. Flesh is similar to waterfowl, oily, slightly dense, but a sponge for flavor. Not fatty enough to fire-roast, but careful baking can produce a delicious Kulu-Ya-Ku a l'orange. 
Aknosom [B]
Would be placed higher on this list were it not for the complication of having to butcher and remove the flame sac. Specialty cuisines would be developed for cooking a butchered aknosom in its own fluids. Slightly more fat than the Kulu-Ya-Ku, but I would prefer stewing, perhaps an aknosom vindaloo. 
Anjanath [B]
A large monster, armored with dense fat rather than scales. Two caveats: Anjanath eat just about anything, so the taste of their meat would heavily depend on the anjanath's diet, and their flame sac is notably more complex than many other fire-breathing monsters. If properly grazed on offal and vegetables scrap, their meat has a texture somewhere between beef and pork. The top sirloin is especially prized, but notably difficult to acquire. 
Diabolos  [B-]
Most of the meat on these massive, armored predators is far too dense to be worth eating. However, their fatty brisket and thighs are delicious after significant, significant slow-roasting. A favorite for BBQ. 
Rathalos / Rathain [B-]
These large, agile predators are eaten more for their abundance than their taste. Rath meat is similar to horse in texture; stringy, sparse, and of variable taste depending on their hosts diet. Most chefs get around the unpleasant texture by grinding cuts into hamburger or sausage filling, and spicing heavily. 
C TIER - Uncommon Tier. Monsters who can be eaten, but are likely not one’s first choice. The tier of uncommon meats such as rabbit, crocodile, and venison. 
Royal Ludroth [C+]
The neck sacs are unpleasantly spongy, and taste of pus if butchered incorrectly. The meat itself is passable, but similar to gator, dense, fishy, chewy if improperly cooked. The choicest cuts are the tail and sirloin, ideal for gumbo. Skillful chefs can produce a wonderful griddle-cooked Ludroth-mac-n-cheese. 
Somnacanth [C+]
Surprisingly difficult to butcher. These creatures feature a complex endocrine system that constantly threatens to ruin their frankly sparse and oily meat. Skilled chefs marinate tail and belly cuts in a sweet and savory sauce, to produce a result strangely similar to pineapple marinated fish, or somnacanth al-pastor. 
Almurdron [C]
Nearly inedible, but can produce delicacies when butchered properly. Their serpentine bodies are extremely muscular, and feature a weaponized excretory tract that can make the meat foul and actively dangerous to consume if butchered improperly. When prepared correctly, most of the animal is discarded, save for the sheathe of subcutaneous fat and tissue which can be used as a sausage casing. Ground almurdron offal sausage is a common feed for domesticated carnivores, but is occasionally enjoyed by humans. The discerning chef may long-cure the meat, producing a rare and exotic cold-cut enjoyed similarly to a rattlesnake sausage. 
Basarios [C]
Tough, dense, extraordinarily difficult to butcher. The sheer amount of effort involved in butchering these creatures for consumption often outstrips their culinary benefits. When they are eaten, they are drained by the neck and packed in clay for pit baking. Even then, the meat is spongy and gamey, not unlike raw calamari or rocky mountain oysters. 
Barroth [C]
Similar to a great Izuchi, but tougher, chewier, less available, and far more difficult to butcher. Even skilled butchers and captive ranchers have been unable to remove the faint muddy taste from the meat. A tragedy, in that they are almost tasty in so many ways.  
Bishaten [C-]
Of questionable ethicality. Meat has a taste smack dab between pork and chicken, but very lean and slightly gamey. Generally does not have enough meat to be considered worth hunting for consumption, and their diet is varied enough to make the taste a gamble. Occasionally, the fruits they collect may ferment in their pouches. A bishaten persimmon wine reduction is considered a rare delicacy, but generally requires cultivation in captivity. 
Rajang [C-]
Skirting the lower end of edibility is the rajang. Meat is leathery, gamey, and chewy, like a steak that worked out before the slaughter. The organ systems that maintain their extraordinary muscle strength may even continue to hold a charge after death, and butchers must be careful to ground the beast before applying any metal tools. Requires cooking so slow that one generally has time to hunt two more beasts in the meantime. 
D TIER - Delicacy Tier. Monsters that probably should not be eaten, are only partially edible, or require special preparation. The tier of snake, fish eyes, chicken feet, and most edible insects. 
Pukei-Pukei [D+]
Proper butchery of these animals requires extreme skill. Well made Pukei-Pukei pate is treated as a rite-of-passage for aspiring master chefs. A single Pukei-Pukei will only produce 2lbs of fatty cheek, and a single mistake could flood the meat with its deadly toxins. The meat itself is delicate, fatty, and flavorful, akin to a lovechild of white fish and high-quality chicken. 
Tobi-Kadachi [D+]
A Tobi-Kadachi’s spines are actually articulated electrosensory organs, akin to insect mandibles. Each follicle is surrounded by a powerful muscle sphincter, and loops into the creature’s endocrine system. Butchery is an exhausting process of plucking and deveining, all for subcutaneous back tissue that is underwhelming and stringy. Ideal serving would be finely ground and baked into a pie. 
Goss Harag [D+]
These creatures are not hunted for their meat. Due to a unique quirk of the goss-harag’s sebaceous glands, the creature’s adipose deposits gain a unique flavor. Sufficiently mature Goss Harag lard has an herbal, almost minty, flavor. Its culinary use is divisive, a favorite to some, and reviled by others. Their meat is leathery, foul, and dense. Their livers are sweet, and excellent source of vitamin C when eaten raw, but few culinarians are so adventurous. 
Barioth [D+]
Meat is overwhelmingly dense, stringy, and run through with the creature’s jellylike blubber. Some cultures do consume the liver, heart, and testicles, as a source of essential vitamins in sub-arctic environments, but these require skillful butchery and unorthodox techniques to prepare. Offal is sometimes ground and compacted into a baloney-like loaf that is surprisingly good on sandwiches, or stir-fried with eggs.
Tigrex [D]
Tigrex meat is so dense that it cannot be butchered along traditional lines. Ordinarily fatty cuts like breasts and thighs are akin to eating grilled steel wire. However, the lungs, diaphragm, and pelvic muscles are edible after a few days of slow-cooking. Even then, they are quite dense. It is meat that demands a 24 hour pit bake, the realm of BBQ chefs with an experimental streak, or more patience than sense.
Ibushi / Narwa [D]
Bizarre biology and sheer rarity make these creatures a true challenge for the aspiring game chef. Those privileged enough to dine on Narwa meat have described it as fishy and gritty, similar to crab with notes of ozone. Efforts have been made into the production of Ibushi caviar, but none have since been successful. 
Bazelgeuse [D]
Inedible. Even attempting butchery can cost an overconfident chef their hand. However, their unfertilized eggs are delicious, a bomb of umami and natural capcasin. Ideal for Huevos Rancheros or about ten savory omelets. 
Arzuros [D-]
When raised in captivity, on a purely vegetarian diet of herbs, honey, and berries, their meat can be edible. Given that Arzuros are an omnivorous predator, the ethicality of this is contested. Even when properly farmed, arzuros meat is lumpy, unpleasantly textured, and lacking in any distinct flavor. All of the time, controversy, and resources required to produce a single Arzuros steak would be better spent on Tetranodon. 
Nargacuga [D-]
Only edible in that it can be physically consumed. Nargacuga meat is relegated to fringe cuisine, the purview of dubious half-magical medicinal stews and rumors during famine years. The meat is unpleasant, somehow bland, foul, dry, and oily at the same time. Only theoretically edible when mixed with other meats, and heavily spiced. Additionally, the creature’s adrenal secretions can be actively dangerous in more than trace amounts. Improper butchery can make the meat hazardous to consume. 
Chameleos [D-]
Most of these creatures are inedible. The biological mechanisms that facilitate their light-bending abilities are not understood by zoologists, much less chefs. Their meat is sparse and leathery, similar to ludroth, but is also to cause a dangerous allergic reaction in more than 50% of consumers. The only part of the Chameleos known to be safe is their eyes, which are candied and served with sweet rice as a dessert delicacy. 
Mizutsune [D-]
Tastes of soap. Only reached D rank because roughly 10% of the population bears a genetic quirk that makes Mizutsune meat taste like cilantro. 
F TIER - Inedible. Monsters that should not be eaten, cannot be eaten, or are actively dangerous to eat. 
Kushala Daora  [F+]
With a skin of iron-laced keratin, the Kushala Daora is more fit to be used as a grill than placed upon it. The meat is dense, overwhelmingly bloody, and riven with grits of iron oxide. Tastes like iron shavings kneaded into leather. 
Khezu [F+]
It is said in-lore that many hunters have tried, and failed, to make the Khezu palatable. These giant leeches feature a complex digestive and endocrine system more useful for medical applications than cuisine. Escargot is already unpleasant. Even stir fried like chinese periwinkle snails, Khezu meat is far too muscular to eat. Tastes like an art eraser soaked in cough syrup. 
Rakna-Kadaki [F+]
Edible only in the sense that it can be physically consumed. Where the fire-breathing organs of other organisms can be removed during butchery, insect respiration is done through spiracles in the carapace. Spider meat already tastes of pus and rot, but the rakna-kadaki features overtones of sulphur and gasoline. 
Zingore [F]
A large, muscular, agile pursuit predator with biological mechanisms for electroconductivity. Wolflike predators already taste of gristle and death, but the Zingore’s electrochemical organ system taints its meat with an overwhelming flavor of bleach and battery acid. Meat is highly toxic to humans. 
Teostra [F]
A large, muscular pursuit predator known for attacking caravans to eat gunpowder. The meat is stringy, gristly, sulfurous, and smells of rotting eggs. Impossible to cook, as applying any sort of heat will cause the meat to rapidly combust. Tastes of old rope bathed in a sulfur vent. 
Valstrax [F-]
A heavily armored, extraordinarily agile aerial pursuit predator with a secondary respiration system to facilitate jet propulsion. Meat is stringy, rubbery, chemically astringent with overwhelming notes of crude oil and smog. Biological fluids are a chemical accelerant, and risk exploding if ignited. 
Magnamalo [F-]
The only thing that could make this monster edible would be slow-roasting in the whole shell. This should never be attempted. Given its purple coloration, the Magnamalo’s secondary respiration system exhales what is likely a complex and highly volatile lithium phosphate. Meat is dense, gristly, tastes of battery acid and spoiled wine. Risks exploding if ignited, oxygenated, or introduced to an electrical charge. 
Volvidon [F-]
Indescribably foul. The volvidon’s digestive tract produces both a paralytic venom, and a predator deterrent in the form of toxic flatulence. Consumption will risk paralysis and uncontrollable vomiting, risking a horrific death by asphyxiation. 
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caraphernellie · 5 months
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cowboy like me // e.w. [chapter one]
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summary: a modern day princess living under outdated royal protocol in which your own existence is forbidden. in a typical state visit to strengthen your country's relations with the united states, you find it harder than ever to keep your sexuality secret when you meet the president's daughter, ellie williams, and sparks fly.
wc: 2.1k masterlist
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content warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut. homophobia, governments, monarchy, politics. reader is specified as lesbian with she/her pronouns used for plot purposes i sorry, smoking, making out, femme! reader. u-haul lesbians fr. reader plays piano. ellie is a disaster lesbian lmaooooo. she's also super privileged and a bit of an ass. mostly based off of the british royal family in terms of royal protocol and all that shit, don’t kill me if things are inaccurate i’m not american, this chapter is more an intro to ellie's character and establishing tension
authors note: i'm so excited about this fic... but i might hate it in the morning so we'll see!! i've never read/watched red white and royal blue but it did inspire this fic (do not expect it to be anything like rwrb as i said i don't know what happens in it lmao). ellie's the president's daughter obvs. if your country doesn't have a monarchy just pretend there is one. if you're from the us then L 💀 play pretend
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converse sneakers pelting across marble tiled floors with an onslaught of urgency, ellie makes her way through the halls. she stops at a mirror for a second, a muse in her mind– eh, good enough.
smoothing down flyaway hairs, ellie realises spending free time in the courtyard outside may not have been the best idea on a cool spring day such as this. the winter is still lingering, breezes battering the flag of red, white, and blue on the roof of the building as warm temperatures are still fresh. still- she needs as much a distraction as anyone else. as if procrastinating on something like homework, assignments, except the only thing ellie has done is make herself late to the introductory banquet of the royal family. all she knows is the president won’t be happy with her. 
bringing her wrist to her nose, ellie sniffs, though it’s less sniffing and more inhaling, trying to figure out if she has masked the smell of the cigarette she wasted or if she needs more cologne.
ellie’s caught by a housekeeper with her face stuck awkwardly into her suit jacket, furrowed brows as she inspects her own scent. pausing, a strained smile takes its place on chapped lips.
“he–”
“goodness, miss williams, you’re terribly late,” the housekeeper says, quickly approaching. “staff have been searching everywhere for you.”
“right,” ellie mumbles, straightening up her posture. “sorry. i’ll be on my way to the state dining room right now.”
approaching said room, ellie can already hear the fuss– loud and polite conversations, the snapping of photos, subtle classical playing over the speakers. christ, ellie thinks, how do i render myself invisible?
ellie’s worries ease the minute she steps inside, however, as the commotion isn’t around her own family today. it’s the royal family. and that realisation almost sparks up yet another mini freakout in ellie’s mind. she’s been looking forward to this for weeks, of course she has, a hot princess living in her home for an entire month..? that’s something she could get used to. but it’s real now, and just staring at you is sending a chill down ellie’s spine.
flash photography and yelling of the invited press is suffocating ellie as she ventures further into the room. she hasn’t even been noticed yet, thank god, so she decides to humbly busy herself at the table of finger food. until–
“ellie williams?”
a delicate voice smooth and sweet, ellie’s ears prick up to the sound of an accent unique and she knows exactly who this has to be.
fuck.
ellie makes quick effort to swallow the stupid cocktail frank she was eating and turns around, wiping her clammy hands on the ass of her slacks.
a princess standing right in front of her, of course these things only happen to ellie in her most cringeworthy moments. demolishing a table of finger food… what can she say? she’s an anxious snacker.
“ah-” ellie’s eyes meet your own and she gulps, extending a hand. “a pleasure to meet you, princess…”
get your head in the game, ellie. she clears her throat, putting on her famous, confident smile. and as you place your hand in hers, she acts purely without thinking, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. nobody was watching, but ellie drops your hand in an instant- is flirting with a princess the right move? even if it’s humorous?
your brain just about short-circuits, and ellie’s reeling. that was stupid, so stupid. acting on total whim.
the collar of ellie’s shirt feels too tight as she observes the split-second utter shock in your eyes, though she relaxes as you reward her a smile. and it isn’t that typical, media-trained smile, either.
“charming,” you murmur in response, eyes fixed on ellie’s piercing greens. however delighted you might be to be treated in this way by a girl like ellie, the way in which you hide it is effortless.
and charming, of course, is exactly what ellie is. messy, shirt creased and hair tousled and she honestly reeks of expensive cologne and faint smoke – but she has that handsome smile and that confident demeanour that the girls of washington d.c. fall for so easily.
“i hope so,” ellie says with an awkward chuckle, shoving her hands into her pockets. “that’s the aim of the game.”
you laugh similarly, politely, and make it as clear as possible to glance ellie up and down. “i’ll play.”
and the look on ellie’s face is plain silly at the least, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. “wh- uh..”
“say, it’s a little stuffy in here,” you say, gently fanning yourself, “you wouldn’t happen to know of any quiet spaces we could disappear to?”
ellie’s lips form a small o-shape as she processes the question. you want to be alone with her. a smirk crosses ellie’s face and she nods, “absolutely, your highness. my office.”
“would you be so kind as to show me to it?”
“of course, follow me,” ellie nods her head to the direction of the door. “we’ll have to sneak around.”
your heels click against the floor while ellie leads you down the hall, the sound a constant reminder to her that you’re actually walking alongside her. approaching a large door adorned by a gold plate with ellie’s name carved into it, she pulls a key from her pocket. and yet her eyes are on you the whole time.
the door clicks open and ellie holds it for you, only for her face to turn red when met with the sight of her office.
“excuse the mess,” she mutters, closing and locking the door behind the two of you. “i was uh, in here late last night. i had a speech to work on.”
“it’s alright,” you say, “some organised mess makes it homely.”
“right,” ellie nods. she’s beyond sensical thought now, just going along with anything you say. try harder. this is ellie’s issue, she eggs herself on too much, gets too overzealous, does things for the sake of doing them because her life has quite literally no direction if she doesn’t set herself these impossible dares. “just take a seat anywhere if you like. the couch is pretty comfy.”
ellie makes a pointless attempt to tidy some papers on her desk. she doesn’t necessarily do a lot of work here, though she enjoys being an activist, often writing speeches and finding causes to help others. though it did only begin in the first place as a way to increase the votes for her father’s party during the election- that doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine!
it’s just that ellie’s lazy ass needs pressure to do these things.
she gnaws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, watching as you sit on the two-seater, eyeing the guitars along the wall of the office. “you play?”
“hm? no,” you say, watching ellie take a warm toned acoustic and sit beside you. “i’m a pianist, though.”
“pianist?” ellie chuckles, thumb stroking over each string of the guitar. “you’ll have to play for me sometime.”
you nod, watching intently as ellie begins playing a quiet tune. she can’t help but notice your rigid, straight posture. she can’t tell if you just have great posture, or if you’re uncomfortable.
but, noticing your eyes lingering over her nimble fingers as they pick at the guitar, ellie’s lips curl upwards just slightly.
she knows well when she’s got a girl worked up. she’d never expected the princess to be this easy.
“music is just beautiful,” you say with a small nod, again, that genuine smile small as ever on your lips insecurely. “nothing like it.”
“you think so?” ellie muses, and when you manage to finally stray your eyes from her hands, you meet ellie’s own soft gaze. “because i think… even the most beautiful ballad couldn’t compare to the solid view i got right now.”
you scoff, turning quiet as heat fills your cheeks. your brows furrow as you tilt your head a nod to the side, studying ellie’s features, searching for any hint of dishonesty. and it’s like she can tell that, with your gaze silently begging her to not be messing with you- she turns her expression more serious.
“you’re something else, williams,” you retort, though adjusting yourself a little closer. knees touch, and you don’t flinch away.
“yeah?” ellie grins. the room goes silent, ellie no longer continuing to play her tune. the guitar on her lap, she rests her chin over it. “something good, or something bad?”
there’s a more subtle smirk on her face now. she begins to move, setting the guitar down and leaning it against the couch as she shifts even closer.
“mmm…” you think for a moment, a smaller expression of interest visible across your features. “something that my head tells me is not a good idea, but my heart says is just fine.”
how the fuck did i get here, ellie wonders? she’s running on pure luck at this point. stumbled in late and somehow she’s got a princess way in over her head.
and ellie doesn’t leave you waiting a moment longer– the second you lean closer she’s grabbing your head and meeting your lips in a fervent kiss, one you gasp into and immediately lean into, hands falling into place with one on her chest and the other on the back of her neck.
pulling away breathlessly, ellie chuckles a bit and shrugs her shoulders, “eh- oops?” she looks almost embarrassed by her own reckless act. “sorry.”
there’s too much going on for you– just too much in your head. your first kiss, the first other lesbian you’ve ever met. her words get you weak in the knees, yet she gets just as flustered by her own actions which seem to only ever work on impulse. so you start laughing, and you can’t stop.
ellie herself laughs a little, watching you giggle at her pink face as you lean into the back of the couch and hold up a cushion to hide your face. it’s all snorting and snickering and ellie’s face is getting redder.
she snatches the cushion out of your hands and raises a brow at you, “if you keep being that cute i’m gonna–”
“sorry,” you laugh, “sorry-”
ellie can’t help but notice how much it seems like you really needed this laughing fit, the way it’s instantly relaxed you…
“that’s it,” she mutters with a chuckle, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. “c’mere.”
the yelp of surprise that ellie’s movement elicits has her beaming, holding you on her lap. she rests a hand on the back of your head, the other cupping your ass. it’s indecent, indelicate to touch a princess like that, and yet you’re not stopping her. ellie’s already found herself addicted.
because this time ellie lets herself just go, pressing her lips to yours. she swipes her tongue over your bottom lip, grunting as you gasp. with your lips parted she slips her tongue into the kiss. she isn’t just kissing you, she’s devouring. she’s making sure not to leave an inch of your mouth unexplored, nor will she allow it for your body, getting rather handsy. every pretty little sound you breathe motivates her to continue, pulling you back in every time you pull back for air.
a hand slides under your dress, gripping your thigh, the other squeezes your breast before gliding to the curve of your ass, and she slumps into the couch. her boxers are growing uncomfortably wet and she needs to do something about it, hold you down on her desk and–
a key turns in the door and her eyes snap open, as do yours. not a single word is said but the panicked look you share tells all as you move back onto the couch beside ellie, smoothing down your dress. she grabs her forgotten guitar and moves it onto her lap.
and in mere seconds, the door opens to reveal a housekeeper who had used the master key to get in. and she’s clueless, though a little discomforted by the taut smiles you and ellie offer.
“sorry to interrupt you, ladies,” she offers awkwardly. “nobody has seen either of you in a long time, it was requested by president williams that we search the place.”
“ah,” ellie muses, clearing her throat before her voice can come out as weak as it feels. “i understand. we’re alright, yes, sorry, um… we needed a quiet place.”
sitting there with that prim and proper posture once again, your leg crossed over the other, you stare at ellie, resisting the urge to reach over right now and fix her hair after having ran your hands through it with desperation.
this is going to be an interesting state visit.
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tag list (msg me or find my tag list in my pinned post if u want to be tagged!!): @dinasvampgf
🙈🙈 omg this fic..
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