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holybibly · 9 months

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ℑ𝔗'𝔖 𝔜𝔒𝔘 |𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯| 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ

♡ Pairing: Best friends Woosan x reader ♡ Genre: smut, f2l!au, college!au ♡ Word Count: 6.6k ♡ Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted. 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑ ♡ WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more. ♡A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself. I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide.

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling.

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before.

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside.

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds.

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left. "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom.

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you.

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome."

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ❧ ℑ𝔗'𝔖 𝔜𝔒𝔘 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑ

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heck-theo · 3 months

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Okokokokok- ignore how rough and messy some of these redraws/sketches are - but it's apparently also dinosaur month?? (WHY did no one ever tell me it's Jurassic June? I love dinosaurs) And like. What if Rise but dinosaurs?!

I don't often post such loose sketches but I wanted to show these off cause I really like some of this.

Design choices and dino species + the reasons I picked them bellow (looking for potential Donnie dino suggestions):

Clothes: Without the shell they really need clothes. They'd all have pretty much the same pants to keep some unity, except maybe Mikey (I decided they should all have the same pants after I finished the Mikey sketches, not sure if I'll keep the shorts or change to pants). Accessories are a mix of pre and post finale.

Raph - I think would keep it simple and practical but would also wear nice jackets and stuff when in casual situations. I need to work on giving him an alternative outfit and tweak his accessories a bit.

Donnie - An oversized pull-over hoodie cause we already know he loves that shit. We see him wearing it all the time. Easy enough. He wears a comfortable singlet underneath so the straps of his battle sail don't rub. Nice soft fabric, tight fit so it doesn't move around, tucks it into his pants, etc. When he wears the battle sail he won't overheat so he can wear hoodies basically all year round.

Leo - He's in one of those shirts with obnoxiously large arm holes and make it cropped cause 1. I think he would 2. I want it to be different from Raph and Donnie's singlets. He usually wears the shoulder strap off his shoulder but pulls it up when he needs to. He has some of the black bandages over his mid drift atm but I might just make his pants super high waisted in the final version. He'd probably wear a bomber jacket (also cropped?) over the top for cool weather, but doesn't like to hide his feathers.

Mikey - I think he'd mostly wear hand me downs when he's younger. He definitely goes through a stage of rebelling and wanting to pick his own and would find a middle ground of appreciating sharing some of his brother's clothes and modifying them, as long as he has the choice of his own available. Not sure if that would be before or after this design. At the moment he's got Raph's old shorts (from a loooong time ago), Leo's old shirt, and Donnie's old zip up hoodie. He does have his own accessories though, including pins instead of stickers.

Dinosaurs: I kept them all as non-avian dinosaurs, AKA not including animals that are colloquially considered dinos but aren't (like pterosaurs). I wanted to keep an even split of herbivore vs carnivore just so one wasn't the odd one out. I wanted to keep most of their body structure, colours and distinguishing features the same as canon. Obviously I added tails cause, yeah, of course haha. I did want them to be recognisable as different species of dino using distinct characteristics that their species is known for. I did ignore a lot of differences though, like size and bipedal vs quadruped (although the quadrupeds might be more likely to go to all fours, especially when fighting or afraid). Leo and Donnie are carnivores so have sharper teeth and claws.

Raph - Some kind of Ceratopsian (likely Triceratops or something very similar) and he was the first idea I had for this and I'm really happy with it. I think it just suits him. Trike Raph just came to me in an unprecedented moment of genius. His spikey frill replicates his spikey shell. His sturdiness, protectiveness and willingness to kick ass when needed, all scream trike to me.

Donnie - Spinosaurus but looking for other species recommendations. More details below: So I wanted to figure out a way for him to have tech with a similar function to his battle shell (in the sense that it's something that helped him in day to day life) and so I went with spino cause one possible theory about a function of spinosaurus' sail is temperature regulation. So his battle sail has heating/cooling systems as well as other tech. A spino's sail was probably not fragile but the battle sail would also help protect it from being targeted during fights or crushed during extreme impacts. It was also thought to be used for display, and what's more of a display than a battle sail? The only problem I have with this is that it's lacking part of what makes Donnie's battle shell so great, which is that it is essentially a prosthetic. Not quite the same as how prosthetics are used in people of course, just in the sense that it is replicating the functionality of a body part that he doesn't have (I can't think of a better word). Well he does have a shell but it doesn't function in the same way that his brothers shells do, which leaves him with less defense than they have, hence a big reason for the battle shell (I hope I explained this well, it was hard to try and word properly). I can't think of a good way to do this with dinos. I was thinking of a carno or something with tiny arms, then Donnie could have tech enhanced arms but I'm pretty much ignoring body structure in the others so it would be weird to have just Donnie be affected by a difference in limb structure/functionality. I was thinking prosthetic tail but every non avian dinosaur had a pretty substantial tail. Except therizinosaurus but even they hade pretty obvious tails. I'm open to suggestions for this one if anyone has ideas. It does have to be an extinct non-avian dinosaur (anything not in Avialae), preferably carnivore but if someone suggests a really good herbivore or omnivore then I can try and swap Mikey for a carnivore. I want there to be an even split. I also wanted to give him something different on his face, like his brothers, and that could only be a little spino crest and it crowds the top of his head but I can't put it anywhere else...

Leo - A type of Dromaeosaur. I was tossing up between this and a dilophosaur where his red stripes were part of the dilo's crest, cause I wasn't sure about giving him feathers. But dilo Leo was so plain compared to the rest and the crests were hard to get looking right so I went back to raptor Leo. I can definitely imagine him literally and metaphorically preening his feathers too. You can't really see it but he does also have that big raptor claw. Raptors were smart, tactical and worked in packs so I think that suits him. I wasn't specifically referencing how some artists draw Leo's stripes coming off his face (I was just trying to replicate his stripes somehow, even though it doesn't make a huge amount of sense) but I realised afterwards that it kinda looks like that and might have been subconsciously inspired by it.

Mikey - Is an Ankylosaur. I'm pretty happy with the species but I need to work out the design of his armour plating so that it looks interesting, cool and protective but isn't too chunky, too pointy or super lumpy looking. I went with an anky cause Mikey is often hiding in his shell and he can't do the same here but he could curl up in a defensive ball. Plus I could imagine him using his tail club in his razzmatazz fighting style. A little like his kusari-fundo or nunchacku/nunchucks (not sure on proper wording).

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badgerbl00d · 2 years

Text

one piece boys rescuing you

☆ characters: trafalgar law, roronoa zoro

☆ up next: yes, your highness (knight!sanji x princess!reader)

☆ summary: you're put in a situation where your life is put in serious danger. will they be able to save you in time?

☆ a/n: new fic yay!! so i'm working my way through the ask box slowly but surely.. a lot of the requests are for pt. 2's, so im gonna try to publish new content before getting to those... as always, thanks for your patience!

3.0k words

law - fire

Trying to calm your breathing down you closed your eyes, doing your best to not panic.

“You ok in there?” Shachi called out.

“What’s the temperature reading?” That might’ve been Bepo. You couldn’t tell.

You’d gone into the boiler room of the submarine to try and fix an issue with the central temperature.

The submarine was supposed to be descending toward the abyssal zone, and with pressures as high as they were going to be there was no room for error with the temperature.

Before you could finish, something that was moving fast hit the side of the Polar Tang, resulting in the door locking you in.

Law had designed the functional rooms of the ship to be perfect.

The boiler room locked from the inside, so that if there were ever an issue with a pressure change, any explosion would be contained to the source of heat.

You heard some debris clatter on the outside, followed by what sounded like a loud, metal clang.

A high-pitched beeping noise started to sound through the small room.

80°

You pressed the down arrow five times. With the way it had been programmed, the boiler room shouldn’t be above seventy five degrees.

Your stomach started to twist, and nausea climbed up your throat when the number didn’t change, and after a few more second read

83°.

“Y/n! You okay?!” Bepo and Shachi had started to move some of the debris that was blocking the door, “Something hit us!”

“The temperature is going up in here, it’s at eighty-three and the buttons aren’t working!”

“Hold on,” Bepo called out, “We’re moving the stuff from in front of the door, we’ll pass you the key from under the door.”

You steadied your breathing and managed to settle your nerves the slightest bit.

A silver key slid under the door and you grabbed it.

“You should be good to open the door now.”

You placed the key in the lock, and started to turn it when the ship took another hit.

This one sent you flying into the wall.

You heard Shachi and Bepo’s impact.

Your head was pounding and you fumbled around looking for the key, unable to find it.

You could hear yelling coming from outside.

“Shit! Bepo- try and move that stuff!”

You assumed Shachi had left as you heard footsteps .

Slowly you got up, your head was starting to stop spinning.

You still couldn’t find the key and tried jiggling the handle

An unnatural rattling sound was coming from the handle.

Fuck.

The key had broken off inside it, and the jagged edge that you could just barely get a finger around was too sharp to try and turn.

The temperature in the room continued to rise.

Your palms had started to sweat and you felt your chest contracting more and more with each breath.

The heat was starting to fill you up from the inside out.

You ran to the thermostat, frantically pressing the cooling button.

94°

“Y/n?!” Bepo called, banging on the door, “I moved all the stuff! Try to open the door!”

“I can’t!” you yelled, your voice straining, someone was yelling- Law, maybe? What had happened? “The key broke in the door! Bepo- the temperature won’t stop rising!”

Bepo continued banging on the door- you knew that he was starting to panic.

98°

You sunk to the floor, looking for a way out- anything.

You twisted the door knob with so much force that you worried you might have broken it. Not that it made a difference.

106°

Bepo’s banging stopped and you started to panic again.

The yelling could still be heard in the background.

“Bepo?”

No answer.

Sweat was dripping down your back and your palms were sticky. Your hair clung to your forehead and it was getting harder and harder to breathe- whether that was because of your panic or the heat you could not tell.

You peeled off your boiler suit, which offered you some temporary relief.

Sitting in a pair of shorts and a tank top now, you simply sunk against the door- banging on it occasionally.

“Bepo!!” You yelled.

That damn bear.

Where was Law?

You perked up at the question.

Where the hell was your captain?

118°

You decided you’d try the key, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto the jagged metal edges with all the strength you could muster.

You felt the metal slip past your skin, digging into the flesh of your hand.

Blood dripped down your arm in a warm, steady stream and you strained to turn the key.

It wouldn’t move- too little of it was exposed.

Black dots started to dance in your field of vision, and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness.

It was so impossibly hot, your mouth felt dry and tacky- like a thin layer of warm glue had been poured inside it.

Your head was pounding and your lungs felt like they were full of sand.

As you started to faint, you thought you saw a pale blue glow cover the room.

You smiled to yourself before you slipped out of consciousness.

Better late than never.

131°

“Room.”

“Lift her arms,” Law ordered.

The feeling of biting cold sent a spark running down your spine as two ice packs were placed under your arm.

You blinked your eyes open, a dull pain still drumming in the back of your head.

There was something sturdy behind your chest, and you felt a hand resting on your stomach.

You tried sitting up, but the hand on your stomach held you in place.

“Not yet, Y/n.”

“Law.”

“You have heat stroke- please don’t move. Stay right there, for me.”

You relaxed back against him.

“Bepo- hand me another ice pack. Is the bath ready?”

“Almost, Shachi’s getting more ice.”

You strained to sit up again, this time Law held you down with slightly more force.

“Y/n. I’m serious,” his tone froze you in place, “Do not move.”

“The boiler room-” you started, “‘s too… hot. Pressures- Gonna go up.”

Your speech was slurred and everything in your body felt so heavy.

You felt Law look back up at Bepo and nod.

“Ok, come on.”

He lifted you up, holding you bridal style to try to keep you as relaxed as possible.

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” he said, “But you need to stay in here for at least twenty minutes.”

“Law,” you mumbled, “ ‘s very nice of you.”

Slowly, he lowered you into the makeshift tub- a large plastic bin that was usually used for storage was filled with ice and water.

The cold was biting and an icy burning spread throughout your body- lighting up your nerves as you were completely submerged.

“Dunk your head in. Just once.”

You sleepily shook your head.

Law sighed, “Alright, I’m gonna help you do it, ok?”

Your hands gripped the side of the tub, and you relaxed slightly when he brought a hand to rest on your neck and gently lowered your head down.

He helped you back up, his steady grip taking the stress off of your body.

Bepo had been sent out of the room to help the others in fixing the rest of the ship.

You sat up and leaned back against Law’s chest, drenching him in ice cold water.

He winced.

“Not so great, hm?”

“No, not so great.”

You sat there, resting against him for a while. Slowly feeling yourself regaining strength.

You had acclimated to the temperature and the sensation that replaced the freezing cold was somewhat nice.

“What happened?”

“Underwater volcano, if you’d believe it.”

You laughed, still too tired to hold a full conversation.

“I’m sorry…” Law started, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

He sounded so sad- you turned to look at him.

“Law, everybody did the best they could- Even me, look.”

You lifted up your hand to show him the injury to find it had already been bandaged.

He smiled at you.

“What kind of doctor would I be if I hadn’t noticed that, huh?”

You gave him a gentle smile.

You could tell that he wasn’t fully convinced, and still felt guilt at having taken too long to rescue you.

Before he could even react you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that you shouldn’t have had the strength to give.

You could feel tension spark throughout his body, but after a few seconds his arms found their way around your waist and pulled you back in.

You let go first.

He followed, a few seconds after.

“If you really want to make it up to me,” you said.

“I do,” Law answered.

“Never give me boiler room duty again.”

zoro - earth

You had four hours to get to the Sunny.

By noon you and Zoro had to traverse through eight miles of thick, unwelcoming jungle.

It was humid and neither of you were looking forward to the journey but you had a mutual respect for the other, and though it was never said out loud, shared an enjoyment of each other’s company.

Zoro liked your good natured humor and admitted to himself that you were easy on the eyes.

You liked Zoro’s stoic nature and admired his relaxed composure.

Your fighting styles were perfectly complementary. Zoro attacked first and thought later. His cuts and slices were executed with a terrifying precision and he was able to readily turn on his animalistic attack mindset. You, on the other hand, were thoroughly analytical. Zoro possessed the skill to not have to worry too much about reading an opponent beforehand, but you were able to read them as fast as he could draw his swords. Able to pick apart formations and fighting styles before they could even get a hit in, you were able to direct Zoro and predict enemy attacks perfectly.

He’d never openly admit it but he liked taking directions from you. To him, independent and capable as he might have been on his own, it felt like he was a sword and you were the hand that guided it.

He made the final cut, but it was you who had swung in the right direction.

Needless to say, you had both set off on your journey toward the Sunny with very few complaints.

The humidity increased, the further you got into the thick green that covered the island.

You pushed through miles and miles of green leaves and branches.

It was lively, the sounds of bugs scuttling across the floor, birds crying from the canopy above, and frogs chirping and yelping filled the scenery with the noise of life and energy.

You were humming to yourself, enjoying the warm weather and snacking on the chips Sanji had packed for you, handing the bag over to Zoro when he reached his hand toward you.

You’d made good progress in the two hours you’d been walking and agreed you could afford to sit down to eat lunch.

“Haha! I do remember that!”

“Or what about when that moron of a cook though he and Nami had us beat in trivia night-”

“And they lost to us in the category of cooking!”

You and Zoro were both laughing. Not such a rare occurrence when the two of you were together.

Zoro’s head suddenly snapped around.

You felt it too, the hairs on your neck rising.

A chill ran through your body and you turned to press your back against his.

“I can’t tell where they’re coming from.”

“Neither can I.”

Your breathing was in sync and you both waited, weapons at the ready.

In a split second the tension broke and your attackers revealed their position by shooting an arrow.

“On your left!”

You jumped to the side as a flurry of arrows flew past your head and heard the sound of blows being dealt by Zoro as he handled his side.

You pulled your throwing knives from your bag where they rested and aimed at the enemy.

Flashes of shiny steel flew through the colorful greens and teals of the forest, the sound of metal against metal echoing in the open space.

You and Zoro fighting together was truly a sight to behold.

You set up every hit he got, and the hits you got were courtesy of Zoro.

It was like a sport for the two of you, a team working perfectly in sync.

Skill aside, your ability to guess his next move paired with his ability to accommodate his hits to the blows you landed, made the two of you nearly impossible to beat.

After only ten minutes of fighting, you’d taken out more than half of the group ambushing you.

Your blades were dripping matching shades of red, and it wasn’t long until the remaining attackers ran.

A stray arrow was stuck in a tree and you pulled it out to inspect it.

Thick, green liquid dripped off the end of it.

Poison.

“Y/n!” Zoro called.

You dropped the arrow and ran to his side.

“Who was that? I didn’t recognize anything about those attackers?” you asked.

“Same here, but it doesn’t matter. Could’ve just been bounty hunters.”

“Working as a team? Unlikely.”

He shrugged.

“Either way, they’re gone.”

You nodded and followed behind him as you continued your walk toward your crew.

A dull throbbing had started to spread throughout your body. You had a headache, too, but shrugged it off.

You walked for another few minutes before you felt liquid trickle down your throat.

You pressed your hand to your neck, pulling away when you felt a warm film cover your fingers.

There was a small gash on the right side of your neck- you’d been hit.

“Fuck!”

Zoro turned around, eyes widening when he saw the wound.

He ran toward you and pressed a hand against your neck to stop the bleeding.

“Shit, shit, shit! Ok- Ok, um, just stay calm,” he was panicking, sweat was lining his brow.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a napkin that was meant for your lunch.

He held it against your neck and you started to feel faint.

You felt your right foot lock. You tried to move it but it felt like trying to move a steel ball with only your pinky finger.

“Zoro…” the fear in your voice was evident.

The swordsman sat you down against the trunk of a tree and held your hair up with one hand as he held the cloth to your neck.

You started feeling faint, and a slowly increasing feeling of nausea was spreading throughout your body.

“We need to get the poison out.”

You nodded, the strength slowly leaving your body, like water flowed from a leak.

He rummaged through his backpack which contained only the lunch Sanji had packed you, a standard first aid kit that Chopper had insisted you take with you, and a broken compass he had forgotten to throw away.

He grabbed the first aid kit and frantically dumped it out.

You pointed at the gauze and Zoro grabbed it.

“Okay… I’ll, um, wrap this around�� your neck?”

You nodded, “But we still need to get the poison out.”

You winced in pain, doubling forward.

You grabbed a few pills Chopper had thrown in and swallowed them as Zoro continued to try and calm himself down.

“It’s spreading.”

Zoro’s head was pounding- this was definitely not his area of expertise and there was nothing in the kit that said ‘Poison Remover’.

“H-how do I,” he asked, overwhelmed, “Just tell me what to do.”

He might not have any medical knowledge but he’d be damned if he let a crew mate die on his watch.

Especially you.

Your eyes had started to close and he was set in his resolve to save you.

Get the poison out, he thought.

As he felt your grip on his arm loosening something in his brain clicked.

He brought his arm around your neck, letting your head rest against his bicep.

His lips wrapped around your neck, and you felt his warm tongue swipe over the shallow wound.

You hissed as he traced his tongue back over it, his saliva coating your soft neck in a thin glaze.

A slight pressure built up as he started to suck the poison out, occasionally spitting it out on the ground next to you.

You made it with a half hour to spare.

The rest of your crew warmly greeted you, happy to see you having made it safely.

You walked onto the ship, Zoro staying by your side, like a knight does with a princess.

Sanji was the first to notice the bandage wrapped around your neck.

“Y/n-chwan!! Are you hurt? What happened?”

You shook your head, “I got hit with a poisonous dart. But I’m okay.”

You gave Zoro a thankful look.

Sanji further inspected the wound, noticing the deep purple and red hickey that sat right on top of the gash.

“What… exactly happened?” he asked, shooting a glare in the swordsman’s direction.

“The poison had started to spread and, uh…” your voice trailed off.

You weren’t sure if Zoro wanted to announce his heroics to the crew.

He stood taller and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“And I sucked it out,” he announced.

He sounded proud enough, but his increasingly red cheeks implied otherwise.

There were mixed reactions..

Sanji was furious and started to bicker with him, Luffy and the boys were laughing, but Nami, Robin, and Chopper all seemed confused.

“But,” Nami had started, “I thought that that doesn’t work-”

You cut her off and shot her a look, that said Don’t say anything.

“I would’ve died if it weren’t for him.”

Robin giggled and ushered them all back inside to finish lunch, explaining to a very confused Chopper what was going on.

You and Zoro were left alone on the deck.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder, “You saved me.”

He looked away from you, rubbing the back of his neck and nodded.

“Anytime.”

Of course, you knew that sucking the poison out of a wound was an outdated myth.

It was the pills that had saved you.

But Zoro had been hellbent on saving you and did everything in his power to keep you alive.

He believed he had saved you.

And you’d be damned if someone told him otherwise.

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azrielbrainrot · 7 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Rhysand calls for a meeting so you and the rest of the Inner Circle can decide what to do next. Azriel stands by your side every step of the way.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

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singingcicadas · 6 months

Text

Megatron's Opposite Day

"I free slaves"

This is Soundwave binding Ratbat but seeing as Megatron did the same thing to Pentius by putting his spark into Trypticon and reformatted Rumble and Frenzy into cassettes against their will I think he approves a lot of this practice

Megatron on Optimus and humans, after his defeat in All Hail Megatron ⬇️

he really salty

"I implant ideology" aka brainwashing

Decepticon cause = Megatron. nuff said.

"I liberate cities" says the person who let Nyon burn to make a point

Cities are too small, think bigger

Holding New York hostage.

"Like Autobots, they believe in the sanctity of life" which he doesn't. Kudos for being honest.

Allowing troops to do free-rein massacre is a reward for conquest. Nothing like some easy murder for de-stressing.

The Simanzi massacre which halved the Cybertronian population is off-screen so it doesn't deserve its own pic

"The revolution"

"We only feel good when we stand with a blade in one hand and a throat in another" "Let's make the entire face of the planet into our new gladiator arena"

What nice, confidence-inspiring revolutionaries. I'm sure they'll rule the population with benevolence after they've killed all the Necessary People with Necessary Violence. Final interpretation of what constitutes as Necessary is reserved for the sole discretion of Megatron, ofc.

Good goals.

Sentinel might be an absolute asshole but at least he's got one thing right: they're literally a gang of thugs who gets high off murder.

"The people are my utmost concern"

'The people': ................

"Battling for freedom"

Freedom of what? Function? Autonomy?

Religion?

the ability to choose whether to fight? on which side to fight?

Idk why they used the word "pogrom" for this, it's way too specific

Anyways it doesn't matter, they won't be missed.

Good for Bumblebee for calling him out. Screenshotted this just to appreciate Megatron's bitchy face ⬇️

Other urban legends:

"Megatron loves Cybertron" let's just burrrrn it

He did fight to save Cybertron in Chaos Theory but also made it pretty clear why he did it. It's not out of the goodness of his heart or any sentimental reasons like that. It's an ego/dominance thing.

Plus his wording when he's trying to convince Optimus to let him go with the Lost Light: "I broke the planet. And that, Optimus, is why I owe it to you - to everyone - to find a replacement."

Replacement.

In other words: I made a mess and can't be bothered to clean it up, so I want to get away from it and find somewhere new to start clean.

I don't think Optimus appreciates the favour.

"Megatron tore down a corrupt government" which is true, just too bad that he's worse

He's also, um, a closeted Zeta admirer?

"Megatron advocates equality" ???

Megatron x dictatorship is literally his OTP. They were inseparable for four million years. A lot of people died trying.

"Megatron cares about the Decepticons" no he doesn't. Not his troops nor its cause.

Like for one thing he treats them with complete scorn

Admits that the most useful thing about keeping Starscream around is that he can bully underlings into line

Wants to use the humans' nuke to get rid of his troops and reformat them into peaceful drones after they outlive their use because they were "too ruthless" for his perfect peaceful society

Has zero scruples about fighting Deceptigod, just affronted that his own soldiers are being used against him

And basically just drops the Decepticons like a bag of vermin after he surrenders. He never once mentions them of his own accord, other than to insist he has nothing to do with them. Even his surrender speech is something Optimus makes him do as exchange b/c he wants to go on parole. He wasn't planning on making a public address otherwise, he was just going to leave them hanging.

Looking at the publication timeline, Megatron started out as an established Evil McEvilson-type villain similar to how he is in G1 and it's not until Chaos Theory in 2011 that JRo really gave him a sympathetic backstory that drew his characterization away from the bloodthirsty pugno ergo sum warlord into someone who once held ideals about societal reform and remains convinced of his own moral supremacy throughout the 4 mill years of death and war, adding worldbuilding such as Functionism/oppression/government corruption as justification for the beginning of the Decepticon movement. But because the start of the Decepticons was already written in Megatron Origins and every evil thing he'd done up till Chaos Theory can't be retracted and they had to keep Megatron as a villain until his story was no longer central to the Autobot-Decepticon war line, and JRo didn't try to downplay the atrocities he'd committed (some of the most sadistically disturbing things Megatron did were exclusively in MTMTE flashbacks), but rather tried to distance him from them and placed the focus on the juxtapositions to emphasize change, this as a whole just resulted in Evil McEvilson getting turned into Hyper McHypocrite.

#That being said I genuinely enjoyed Megatron's redemption arc in mtmte/ll. It's one of those stories that's very poignant and moving #on an emotional level #even though the plot itself doesn't hold up that much under close scrutiny.#moved this to the tags to make the post cleaner #I would've liked it more if LL used a few more panels to show Megatron Actually Making Friends #instead of shunting him into a parallel universe for idk how many issues in an already limited run #transformers #idw transformers #maccadam #megatron #trying to clear out more screenshots

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artsekey · 7 months

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I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

#computers #pc #digital #rant #something something planned obsolescence

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flamingpudding · 1 year

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Fictober23 Prompt: 10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mention / implications of experimentation

A/N: I might have gotten a bit carried away with this... I also might take a little inspirational break tomorrow.

Damian should have known better, he knew his mother and he knew his grandfather. He should have known, especially after having met Respawn. Could his mothers behavior maybe clued him in sooner? But nothing had seemed any different lately, maybe that was what should have tipped him off. Yet if it hadn't been for Drake's paranoia, after another incident with his grandfather, Damian knew he probably wouldn't have found out anytime soon, either.

He ran through the halls of the League of Assassins facilities, knowing this place probably better than his siblings that were keeping his grandfather's men busy. He could hear them over the coms, he could also hear his father confronting his mother. They were in a different location to cover more ground. Richard and Todd were with him in this location while Drake and Cain had gone with their father. Brown and Thomas were back in Gotham awaiting hopefully good news.

Damian rounded a corner, dodging another of his grandfather's men. He did not wait or turn to pin the man down. Trusting his siblings to take care of this, and a second later, gunshots echoed behind him.

There were various options of where the child, his newly created younger brother, could be. But considering how his grandfather had changed, Damian took another turn leading to the underground area. As much as there was a likelihood that the child was created to replace him, he was sure that grandfather was raising the boy differently also, as he was now considered a failure since he had left.

When he reached the underground area he slowed down, blade drawn and surveying the area. It was surprisingly empty, something Damian did not trust. Carefully he walked along the hall until the distant sound of sniveling made him pause.

"I think I found him." Damian relayed through the coms.

"Gotcha we will catch up with you brat." Todd answered and Richard agreed a second later, spouting some 'mushy' nonsense in addition.

"We will finish up here then and prepare for the pick up!" Drake on the other hand informed, despite the fact that Damian could still hear their fathers end of what appeared to be a heavy argument with his mother through the coms.

Carefully he made his way over to a heavy looking metal door. Locked. Damian clicked his tongue. It took a bit of lockpicking but soon enough he heard the soft click of the lock and he slowly pushed the door open.

"Of course grandfather would have an underground lab." He eyed the room and the equipment stored in it. Different machines with different functions were lined all along the walls. He could see villes, tubes, containers and pinchers of Lazarus Water. But what really caught his eye was the huge tank in the back of the room. The tank was nearly empty except for a four inch high puddle of Lazarus Water and a barely clothed, blue eyed child sitting in it.

The child was indeed the source of the sniffling Damian had heard early as he now saw the boy looking at him wide eyed and rubbing at his eyes furiously like he did not want to be seen crying.

"W-who are you?" The child asked, voice cracking from obvious disuse. How bad were they treating this boy? "You look weird."

Damian knew his eyes were softening just a tiny bit at the child's question. They hadn't trained out the child's natural honesty yet. There was still a chance for this boy to grow up with more normalcy than he ever did.

"You can call me Robin." He answered the child as he stepped closer, noting how tiny the boy appeared to be, unintentionally clicking his tongue. Something must have been wrong with the documents Drake found. The papers spoke of a boy at the age of six. But this boy was tiny, clearly younger than that. Or perhaps they hadn't had the chance for the forced aging process?

"Are you a fruitloop?" The boy inched to the back of the tank away from Damian and he barely refrained from clicking his tongue at that motion.

"I am human, not a type of cereal." Damian shot back at the kid inspecting the tank and how to best open it to get the child out.

"Well duh. But you could still be a fruitloop." Richard would have a great time talking to this child, Damian briefly thought as he knocked against the glass of the tank, trying to judge from what kind of glass it was made and if a Batarang was enough to break it.

The child watched him, there were still some tears in the corner of the boy's eyes but there was also curiosity. "You really are getting me out of here?"

Damian absentmindedly nodded as he reached back with the batarang in hand. "Keep were you are, I am going to bre-"

"No, it's fine!" The child suddenly hopped up, splashing the puddle of Lazarus water against the glass as he clumsily stumbled forward, pressing his hands against the glass from the inside. Damian stopped mid movement, watching how the child's tongue stuck out in concentration as the boy continued to press his body against the glass.

For a moment, Damian was wondering what the child was doing until the boy's hand suddenly went through the glass, falling forward. Damian hurried to catch the boy as he literally fell through the glass.

"What did you do?" He asked once he had the boy, his new baby brother, securely in his arms. The boy giggled, swinging his legs a little in the air.

"I got powers!" It didn't make sense to Damian, neither his mother nor father had a meta gene but there was the possibility of his grandfather mixing in other DNA or possibly, he looked around the lab, no he didn't want to imagine this.

"I see." Was his only answer to the boy for now, he turned to his com. He balanced the boy in his arm while placing a couple of devices in the room in preparation. "The child is safely retrieved. Prepare for pick up."

The boy's eyes widened as Damian made his way out of the underground part. Richard and Todd were waiting at the entrance of the stairs for him. The weight of the boy in his arms and the feeling of his small hands clinging to his uniform, it slowly caused the realization that Damian indeed had a blood related little brother now. Not a clone, but a little brother. Sure he had been created through an artificial womb but the boy was not a clone.

"ETA 5 Sending the pick up location." Drake spoke over the coms.

He was close to the stairs when he noticed the boy pressing his face into his shoulder, shaking slightly. It caused Damian to slow down and inspect the child. Did he overlook an injury?

"You… are you really taking me out of here? It's not a trick from the fruitloop to make me trust him? You are taking me away?"

The words made Damian stop right by the foot of the stairs. Richard and Tood were right at the top, waiting for him. He could go up and let Richard carry the child and do the comforting. His brother was better at this than he was. But for some reason, Damian didn't want to do that. He sent one look up the stairs before putting his focus on the child.

"Do not worry." Carefully, while still holding the boy securely Damian made the boy look at him, wiping the beginning of tears away from watery blue eyes. Whatever his grandfather had done to this child, Damian as well as the rest of his family will not let it happen any longer, especially now that they know of his existence. "It's alright, I am here now."

Saying this sounded very 'cheesy', as his oldest brother would put it, in his ears but the small hopeful shine in the boy's eyes was worth it. "As long as I am here, grandfather will no longer lay a hand on you, nor put you through anything you do not want. I am sure father and the rest of our family will agree."

And didn't Damian know it? Because despite all the conflict and contempt that sometimes existed among them, it was still a fact that his family was protective, it was not a if but a certainty that if anyone harmed his baby brother then he was surely not the only one burning down a building or two.

It rang especially true that once they got picked up, instead of letting one of his siblings hold their new brother he tossed them a controller with a certain gleam in his eyes and watched them fight over who got to trigger the explosive he had placed underground before they were out of reach. All while their baby brother was snuggling into his arms and purring like a cat. Damian smirked at his older siblings, it appeared that his baby brother already had a favorite. Not like his siblings would have been a competition in the first place.

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indecenthoney · 7 months

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"The Munchies"

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Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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Take a bite,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #cnc free use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #free use cnc #humiliation kink #edging and denial #rap3 fantasy #somno fantasy #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc drugging #RisquéHoney

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copperbadge · 2 months

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how did u psych urself up to go to therapy? my executive function has been awol for like 2 years and it's gotten to the point where it's wrecking my ability to do anything. i'm scared to waste a bunch of time and money going and getting told i'm just lazy or that the problem is just me

Happy to talk about that! But this is really two issues, so I gotta do a fly-by real first on "scared of getting told I'm just lazy". :D

It sounds to me like you're aware intellectually that laziness isn't the issue. You know this is an executive function issue and not a personal flaw, but I definitely get that it's hard to internalize that. So I'm going to drop links here to some discussion of "laziness":

How do you know you're not just lazy? (ask sent to me -- it's long, but you can skim for the laziness bits if you want.)

Lack of motivation means you are avoiding pain (second ask in response to the first)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price

These are essentially my proofs when I want to remind you that laziness is a label that stigmatizes an innate behavior -- inability to act is real, laziness is not. If a therapist tells you that you are lazy, and ESPECIALLY that you are the problem, you should fire that therapist. Don't even stay the rest of the session if you don't want to, just say "I see we are not compatible," and bounce. I don't think the odds are high that you'll encounter that, but on the off-chance that you do, that's a bright neon sign that they're a bad therapist.

In fact I would open with that pitch: "I'm struggling with executive function and the self-perception that I'm really just lazy. I need help with the actual executive function issues but also with how I view myself because of them." The therapist's response will tell you a lot about whether they'd be a good fit.

So with that out of the way...

I eased myself into therapy with the speed of a small child entering an extremely cold lake. It helped a lot that all of my therapy has been virtual via Zoom, so a lot of stuff that would have been a barrier, like going to the physical appointments, discomfort in a strange space, etc. were swept away.

I didn't even want to see a psychiatrist for my Adderall prescription, but I knew I needed help and medication seemed to be my best option, so with the assurances of several people that it wasn't therapy so much as mental health maintenance, I saw a psychiatrist. And he was lovely! (I just met with him yesterday to go over my next few months of scrip.) For a while that was all I did: talked every month to a kind person who asked specific and measurable questions about my mental health -- mood, sleep patterns, ability to work, hobbies -- without getting especially personal. I thought, okay, I can handle this, I can probably handle more, so I asked him for a recommendation for a therapist.

He looked at the network of independent practitioners he belonged to (Clarity Clinic Chicago, if you want an example of a good network) and found me a couple of options. I got extremely lucky to find someone I felt was appropriate for me right out of the gate, though some of that was also knowing what criteria I had: I wanted someone who explicitly stated they specialized in adult ADHD and disability, and who seemed like they were interested in addressing a whole person and not a single issue. When we met she seemed nice, wasn't pushy or judgey, was familiar with spoon theory and disability activism because she also has ADHD, and didn't blink (or ask overly invasive questions) when I said I was very uneasy about therapy because of past experience. She was comfortable with the ambiguity I brought -- I basically said "Look, I think this is something I need but I'm not entirely sure what my goals are yet, it's just I only recently found out I have ADHD and I am rethinking a lot of stuff," and she was like fine, let's rethink it together.

It still took me a long time to start talking about anything meaningful, but she handled the non-meaningful stuff as if it was serious and important, which helped. Admittedly I have really good insurance so I pay $20 a session for therapy, which also helps; it's pretty negligible in terms of health costs for me. I can afford to dawdle.

So, all that said...my path may not be an option for you, but I think it indicates the kinds of options you have. You don't have to jump into serious and heavily emotional processing first thing if you don't want to. You can shop around for therapists and you can drop any bad ones you encounter speedily, or if you find one you immediately like you can still spend time getting comfortable before dropping into the heavier stuff.

I would suggest that if you have a prescribing psych or doctor for any kind of mental health meds, ask them if they have a recommendation. If you don't have that, ask around people you know or believe have access to therapy and see what they think. If those aren't available to you or you're uncomfortable with that, I'd do a search for licensed therapist and your health insurance, or see if your workplace has an employee assistance program that can recommend you someone.

Good luck! I hope you get what you need. Lord knows I've been there.

#not yet fired from therapy

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savingcrxws · 1 year

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eyes on fire | carmen berzatto headcanon

carmen berzatto x ex!reader (but not for long...)

warnings. language, mentions of suicide & death (mikey)

authors note. thinking of turning this into a fic but i just wanted to get these thoughts thrown onto a page for now | EDIT 7/7: ITS A FIC! HERES PART ONE

you hated carmen berzatto, to say the least

you had been each others first s/o and spent a lot of the end of your teenage years attached at the hip

every berzatto family function (no matter how messy they always ended), every school dance, every hell's kitchen rerun--you and carmy were together

mikey liked to call you guys soulmates, watching how you and carmy just seemed to click like that- a statement that never failed to make carmy go flush in the face (que richie faking barfing in the background)

you were one of the first people that carmen told about his wishes for the future-how he wanted to take up the restaurant with his brother and continue the berzatto tradition

you loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about cooking with his family-the way he gave his all into his aspirations

"well you gotta make sure i'm the first one to eat those fancy sounding dishes when you start working at the beef, carm"

"absolutely, babe. i wouldn't have it any other way"

however, like everyone after high school, you and carmy hit a rough patch that sunk your relationship -- you were planning to go to college for business administration and carmy was leaving chicago to go to culinary school

you two definitely attempted everything in your power to stay together-late night skype calls, daily texts, hell you even offered to fly to new york to spend time together

but the more swamped you got with school and the more carmen got slammed with cooking (especially right before he went of to Noma), the more the truth begun to show itself

the breakup was messy, because it was less a breakup and more of ...

you: what are we doing right now? like, as a couple?

carmen: i think that i need to focus more on my career right now

you: oh, so..are we breaking up right now? (read 9:57PM)

you: carmen? (read 10:15)

you: ok, asshole, be that way (delivered)

that's right, that motherfucker ghosted you

despite the tumultuous ending of you and carmen's relationship, you were still close to sugar and mikey (and, unfortunately for you, richie)

sugar was adamant on flying over to copenhagen and have a "conversation" with her brother herself + mikey and richie were not too far behind on the cause

"it's fine guys. let's just all agree that carmen is a soft little bitch" you said, trying to lighten the mood even though you knew that you were still racking thru the pain being broken up with so suddenly

you deal with the breakup harshly at first, but you put a lot of that emotion towards your own growth

fast forward a couple years, you graduated college and are on the up-and-up in chicago as a successful business marketing manager

you get closer to the berzattos, strangely, as carmy gets more distant

you don't think of carmy much anymore but it grows harder as he wins awards and recognitions in his field that honestly make you..proud, in strange way

then, mikey dies...and a lot of things change for you

you help sugar and richie plan the funeral, and something sour sinks into your stomach when you don't see that familiar head of dirty blonde hair during the service

some months pass and you try to gather yourself and get back to normal after mikey's passing

richie invites you down to the beef one day to "catch up" randomly

you go, if not to just see tina and the rest of the crew but are met with great surprise when you see him

carmen motherfucking berzatto, in the flesh, standing behind the bar yelling to richie about something nonsensical

he stops yelling when he hears the door open and literally freezes in place when he sees you

you stare at him for a second, taking in the man who once had your heart, noting the new tattoos and the new way he styled his hair and he seems to be doing the same

then, richie breaks the silence--"oh my goodness, what are you doing here, sweetheart?"

you and carmy speak at the same time

"richie, you motherfucker"

"richie, you dick"

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear season 2 #the bear hulu

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babbletaels · 5 months

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Before tears of the kingdom came out, I was watching a video on youtube that talked about volcanic signs around hyrule. As they pointed out what different structures around death mountain and akkala could've been, I started seeing those kinds of structures and shapes everywhere and I realized..

Hyrule is on top of a very large volcanic area

I started looking for signs. I realized there were hot springs in tabantha, and hot springs is not just something that cold regions have, no, it's something volcanic regions have.

When tears of the kingdom came out one of my top priotities was to get to the depths and see if there's lava underneath these hot springs, and sure enough there they were! Not only that, I found volcanic shapes in the depths themselves, as well as lava in other places I didn't know about.

Why am I talking about this?

Because they're not just there as decorations, at least not to me.

Look at Hyrule great forest. It obviously used to be a big forest spanning from above hyrule castle all the way to the top of the map, covering the west part of death mountains foot. Now the trees are all burned down from a volcanic eruption, except for in two regions that have strangely moat-looking "rivers" around them.

I'm not going to pretend I believe these are rivers. I'm 100% sure they are man made. These moats were dug in order to protect important land marks, because the people knew that they live on a volcanic region. It's no coincidence that the castle has a huge moat around it as well. They are trying to be safe from their inevitable doom.

But it's not just this. Moats don't always save you, and volcanoes eventually go dormant.

I imagine if you're the least interested in zelda lore and the zelda timeline, you've asked yourself the question, "Why does the map change so drastically?". Well, here's your answer.

Death mountain isn't just any mountain, it's always the most recently active volcano and the place where the gorons live! The gorons move around, when there's a new volcano they move there!

Towns safety become threatened, and so they move. Look at the ruins on the sides of death mountain, they're not burned, they're abandoned. So the people move around, they literally have no choice but to do so, unless they take to drastic measures, like raising your town high above the ground and building a wall around it, like the great plateau.

Why are the sheikah towers buried under ground and designed to shoot up with incredible force? Why not just build them in place and why do they need to be so tall? Maybe they were preparing them to be able to function even after lava has covered the ground.

The extremely mountainous nature of all of hyrule is honestly the best sign we have of this. By looking at the mountains we can conclude where the latest volcano was, and I think it was in Hebra.

So when trying to piece together how the maps work together, you can't look at things like a town, a castle or a volcano, because those things are constantly moving. I'd say maybe the desert could be the way to go, but we've seen very clearly that deserts used to be oceans. If you look to the horizon in gerudo desert in botw, you'll see water.

I think that the gorons migrate when their volcano gets too cold. If we look at majoras mask and assume that termina is in fact a real place, this is the first time we see gorons living in a cold place, and they don't seem to be thriving. Gorons like the warmth that the volcano provides.

So why does death mountain switch places?? Because it's not the same mountain! Death mountain is always the volcano! So one volcano goes dormant, another one pops up and the gorons move there. And this also explains a loooooot of other geographical questions. The people of hyrule are living under a constant threat of destruction by volcano, and that's why they need to move their castles and everything. If we were to assume the temple of time from ocarina of time is the same as in breath of the wild, we clearly see they moved/abandoned the castle and castle town because of the close proximity of death mountain in ocarina of time. It all makes a lot of sense and makes me feel like the map changing isn't such a big problem to me anymore.

#legend of zelda #tloz #tears of the kingdom #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #ocarina of time

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

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

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o #next part is gonna be oohoohoo!

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