#like... the way I cough with it; it doesn't feel like coughs from when I'm sick
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hyacinthleaves · 1 day ago
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hello hello!!! may I request fluff relationship headcanons with eddie and volt? need to see more of my husbands and I plan on making another seperate request for two more characters so this wont be my last :)
also if its okay may I be referred to as 🌙 anon? :3
yeah bet. trying so hard not to write smut rn you can see it while i was writing. its like having a really funny joke that you cant say cuz everyones talking
Eddie and Volt:
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I'm trying so hard not to be biased but this is actually one of, if not the most rewarding relationship to be in. Like, in comparison to all the other objects in the house, you are getting the most princess treatment from these two
It's def because they were so grateful for your help and not just because they're attracted to you. Because originally that wasn't their thing so the fact that your relationship literally went from 1 to 100 is one of the reasons why being with them is deadass all fun and vibes for the most part
Also I think it would be so fun to date them because unlike some other pairings in the house (cough cough curt and rod, harper and dirk, and maybe timmy/timothy if I can count them) there's no tension between one and the other where you're forced to come between them really
I feel like interactions with them heavily depend on how you're feeling towards them or what side you decide to show to them
Like I can see a more sassy/teasing s/o talking to Volt a lot and poking fun at Eddie (in a flustering way) because of how much he blushes around them
Just getting Eddie flustered has got to feel like the greatest thing ever. Keep reminding him how much he wanted nothing to do with you when you first met. Make him feel how thankful he is to have you by his side. Volt supports this and actually thinks its so funny. Eddie is getting you back for this. Don't think you can just get away with this
But I can also see a more kind and affectionate s/o being more clingy to Volt (which he loves and will accept all of it, despite how busy he is) and Eddie jokingly poking fun at you
Volt makes it very clear to everyone that you're his partner. PDA shakes in the presence of Volt. I swear he gets worse with every interaction with you
In fact I feel like he has to hold himself back a lot. You make him lose his composure so easily and he has to remember he's on the clock
If you ever give him a reason to, he wouldn't be too upset if he had to close the Breaker Box early. He would find the perfect time to do it though so it doesn't seem like anything TOO bad is happening
But his patience is pretty high so usually there's no need for it to get to that point...don't test him too much though. Or do. You're well aware where that will get you
You literally cannot get bored around them I'm so serious like 10/10 relationship
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suigenerisisadiva · 15 hours ago
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Zombieboy - Jason Todd x Detective!Reader
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Pairing: Jason Todd x Detective!GCPD!Reader + Dick Grayson x Platonic!Reader
Summary: When Jason's down in the dumps, brooding for longer than he normally is, you take it upon yourself to make him feel better with your favourite artist, after all justice doesn't wait! Inspired by Zombieboy by Lady Gaga!
CW: Making out, Lady Gaga, Swearing
A/N: Requested by my pookie @gothicbatgirl, a lil present for you ml 🫶
This is a part 2 to my Halfway Between You & Justice fic! Read it here!
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"Hey do you think you could check on Jason for me?" Dick asked softly.
"Why what's wrong?" You asked.
"He's... something's getting to him, and I don't wanna pry, I think he's kind of sick of me, so... I thought you could try maybe?" Dick responded.
Huh, you thought.
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Dick wasn't wrong
Jason's been moodier than normal. He wasn't snapping back at you as often, he was grinding arms more at the gym, with his sets being longer (I'm embracing my love for beefy arms in this one gang) his sassiness dwindled and his hair ironically got flatter.
Jason hadn’t said much for two days.
Which wasn’t unusual , especially when Gotham had him in a chokehold , but this was the full-blown Jason Todd Radio Silence Deluxe Edition - hoodie up, jaw tense, earbuds in but no music playing, staring at a wall like it owed him money.
You’d given him space. Then tried small talk. Then food (You were really surprised Big Belly Burger didn't work) Then left a Post-it on his helmet that said “emotionally constipated” with a little drawing of a zombie.
Nothing.
You figured, you needed to look at whatever you currently had going on with Jason from a lover perspective, and not a detective perspective.
So tonight, when you walked into his apartment and found him slouched on the couch with the same blank stare, you decided it was time for a different tactic.
Without a word, you pulled out your phone. Tapped your Bluetooth speaker.
The first few notes of Lady Gaga’s “Zombieboy” filled the apartment, dramatic, pulsing, unapologetically theatrical.
Jason didn't move.
You, however, launched straight into a performance.
"Oh, I can't see straight and my hands are tied I could be your type from your zombie bite No, I can't see straight but the feeling's right I could be your type from your zombie bitе"
You spun. Flung your jacket to the floor. Did a full-body sway in front of him like you were auditioning for Gotham’s Most Unhinged Cabaret. You even snatched a whisk from the kitchen counter as a microphone.
Still nothing.
But you saw it , the twitch in his lip. The smallest raise of one eyebrow.
Target acquired.
You climbed up onto the coffee table mid-chorus, arms wide, stomping to the beat like you were Lady Gaga herself in crime-scene heels.
Jason snorted. Loud. He tried to cover it with a cough. Failed miserably.
You dropped to your knees in front of him.
He finally looked at you, a real grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you done?” he asked, voice hoarse with laughter.
“Never,” you said proudly. “Not until my Zombieboy smiles.”
Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees, expression soft in a way he only gave you when he forgot to be tough. “You’re such a menace.”
You booped his nose. “And you’re my favorite emotionally unavailable corpse.”
He rolled his eyes , but he pulled you into his lap anyway, arms around your waist, head buried in your shoulder.
You could feel him smiling against your hoodie.
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Later that night, you changed his contact name in your phone to my Zombieboy 🖤
And when he noticed?
He didn’t change it back.
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Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!
Sources! -
Dividers - @enchanthings @anitalenia @sister-lucifer
Icon Header - @mieczyslawn
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Property of suigenerisisadiva, do not repost my work pls & ty
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pickaropoprocks · 30 days ago
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Day 93!! Happy Pride!!
#papr daily#mafukasa#some hcs that are very important to me :3 (agender Mafuyu and aroace Tsukasa btw)#Like Tsukasa!!!! I do like the bit of “if not aroace why aroace colored?” for hcing him as such (his 2024 bday card is literally the#aroace flag and just generally you can colorpick the flag from him in most images) but it does go a lot deeper#I highly resonate with him finding romance boring/being uninterested in it (as seen with him removing romance in every story they adapt)#since that's how I grew up being!! And even now I do find myself more interested in a story if romance is entirely out of the equation!!#growing up not liking romance and especially just never having a crush is a rather alienating experience if I'm being so fr#“who do you like :)” asked by everyone really but if you say “no one” you're lying???? fucked up#I strongly believe Tsukasa is so aroace-coded (whether intentionally so or not) even in his actual management of romance!!!!#He still keeps the romantic aspect of Romeo and Juliet in the first ever cultural festival event BUT it is not as important as the action#which is something at least I can relate to as an aroace creator? Where even the pairs I make intending for their to be a romance/romantic#undertones it's STILL not the most important aspect of their relationship by FARRRRR (cough Goldenlily cough iykyk (only Grey knows))#and in the Wondershow Valentine's Day special live where he tries to brag about getting chocolates from girls#it feels (imo) really forced? Considering other dialogue I'll get to later? but it seems like something that I personally haven't done but#I know is somewhat of a common experience in the aro/ace communities of trying to overcompensate/force yourself to feel a certain way#to match your peers? E.g. pretending you have a crush on a specific person when you don't#it kinda feels like that to me + a little bit of wanting to seem more popular with his peers than he is but that's unrelated#and then the most relatable moment ever in Pandemonium when Tsukasa doesn't understand why one of his classmates being popular#with girls is a big deal (which directly contradicts the mindset he has in the aforementioned live) and like!!!!!#“So what? He's just interacting normally with his classmates” ME EVERY TIME I FAIL TO RECOGNIZE ROMANCE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME#If you asked me to tell you who is likely to be in/to become part of a romantic relationship I would fail no matter how close I am to the#person like unless it is said TO MY FACE I will NEVER see it coming (speaking from many many experiences)#anywsys Tsukasa aroace realness this is my propaganda (/silly y'all can have whatever hcs you want as long as it isn't illegal/harmful and#as long as y'all are respectful to other hcs and don't speak over people trying to share theirs)#but yeah!!!!! Agender Mafuyu is 100% a more simple story LMAO#back when I had Insta I had the very poor decision-making to follow a prsk opinion account (tho it honestly wasn't ALL bad)#BUT!!!!!!!!! There Was A Post#where someone said that they hced Mafuyu as agender and like.#They defined agender as (very much paraphrasing here btw) someone who essentially would rather be seen just as an individual
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rivilu · 6 months ago
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ok you know. the Ellu in dav crossover au is very fun but i am a little bit enchanted by the concept of him AND Rynn at once. Best of both worlds in a sense.
#posts that sound like noise to everyone but me fdjgfd#but like. yeah rynn gets to be the main leader and have an emotional connection to the world he's fighting for#while not keeping emotional distance from everyone around him jkgfh#but then you ALSO have Ellu there to make some of the tougher choices that Rynn doesn't fully trust himself to make / would come to regret#(cough minrathous/treviso cough)#and willing to shelter the blame of it too so the guilt doesnt eat Rynn alive#and companion wise Rynn would actually know what the fuck to say to Taash for example. whereas Ellu is. *gesturing vaguely*#not equipped to understand these conversations. guy barely has a sense of personhood if that- much less knows what gender is#i feel like it makes all the companion dynamics so much more interesting actually#balancing out Rynn's kind naivete with a more experienced but also much more unhinged perspective fjkgdf#wait did i just invent Alistair and Orion dynamic 2.0. ...you saw nothing fdjghdf#yeah nah not really Orion is VERY different but funnily enough would approve of Ellu's choices way more than Rynn's 😭rip little guy#but yeah the companion arcs..#some pushback on Bellara freeing the archive because unlike them both Ellu's not saddled with misplaced guilt about the ancient elves#some pushback on the griffons going back to the wardens because. Ellu's not biased 😭#(though i still think they have a much better infrastructure for breeding them and ensuring they survive so Rynn could win that argument)#ellu and rynn being the angel and devil on harding's shoulders during her quest fkgj (not that one option is bad but you get the joke)#ellu getting psychic damage after hearing the concept of lichdom is a good thing here etc#also what the situation would be with Solas in two Rook world. all potential options are hysterical#Do they BOTH communicate with him in the fade prison? they both hate his ass - does he get twice the amount of bullying?#Ellu by the standards of his world probably counts as a spirit with a body in dragon age- so how does this affect things?#does Solas hear 'THAT'S your god of trickery??? pathetic' from what he sees as a spirit of chaos#and does that give him a teensy existential crisis fghhdfgh#also fun because ellu's age is intentionally impossible to gauge because fey time bullshit but could very well be in the thousands#on technicality of time dilation at the very least#so placing that little idiot in this world is SO fun.. so many options..#'wah wah i'm the dread wolf I have no spine when i have to do what's right but my slaver girlfriend doesnt agree#but i will end a world inhabited by people because they're mortal now and i dont see them as people :( ' GET A GRIP GRADPA#-> said by guy who may be older than him
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icharchivist · 6 months ago
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Go off queen
It's your blog and you should be able to talk about whatever you want after all
aww thank you 🥺 i appreciate it <33
i do really not like spreading negativity esp when it's on a topic i have strong feelings about, and let's say the D.A fandom especially tends to be. extreme about the way it reacts to people disagreeing with them.
And look. I'm not immune to it because sometimes i get caught up by the genuinely rancid vibe in the fandom as well, and i think those games are designed for us to have strong feelings to start with.
but it also means i don't want to go too deep into controversial thoughts because i genuinely don't want to get to a point where i'll see someone screenshot my posts to dunk on it and say i'm the reason media literacy is dead and why the fandom is so toxic (citing things i've actually seen on said blog, for instance though not directed at me but at takes i've seen taken out of context. except i knew the context so knew this was a bad faith argument.).
Like can't even dislike shits in peace in here.
#sorry this is probably my most solas moment but i try to be kind and stuff#and when i discuss things level headed with people i do think i'm pretty humble#i don't think i have the ultimate readings and i am likely super wrong about things all the time#because analysis remains also an emotional approach and it can't be helped#and i need to hold on to this humility to not get caught on in my own head#analysis is also pretty much shapped by experience and i do not have the final reading on things#and sometimes things can be decent in one way but fumble another#and what will be important to not fumble will be different from one person to the next#depending to the themes that resonated with you to start with#but when i see people dunk on feelings i have while taking them out of context and also being rude about it#and then saying 'media literacy is dead'#i feel myself turning into a pride demon on the spot#sorry i only have two literature analysis diplomas i graduated from in two languages with praises for my analytic skills#and with a teacher genuinely begging me to continue advanced literature analysis classes because my approach was rare and precious#so clearly i don't know what i'm talking about at all and i'm the idiot here#like holy shit. lol.#this fandom is still the one i dislike the most and alas the fact i dislike the 4th game doesn't help#bc i really was hopeful and optimistic about it! i didnt want to dislike it!!!!#but i at least don't want to be taken for an idiot for it#but coughs. anyway. so that's one of the reason i'm not petty on main#the real reason is i don't want to impose that on my followers. I don't like being negative needlessly.#the second reason is that if i'm met with hostility where someone act like i'm dumb i will do things i will regret.#It's just that no one saw this side of me there most time because you've all been nice to me here#again. this is my solas moment. one of the reasons my therapist goes �� when i talk about him#ichareply#anonymous#ichasalty
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whore-ibly-hot · 1 year ago
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Yandere Boarding school thoughts... (Gender Neutral)
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18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, drug usage, horny posting.
(AN: I have rizz-en from my grave to be horny once more. All of these guys are avaliable for requests, but will be listed under the materlist simply as Yan!Boarding School.)
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Background: Thinking about a Headmasters child!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Blackmoore Academy being an all male school, this opens up the availability for reader to be attending.
Student scenarios and profiles:
◇ Harrison Spence, star member of the swim steam, basketball player, and golden boy. Despite jock stereotypes, he's respectful and mature. He always looks out for others, and this lends to why your father suggests rooming with him. Plus... if anything were to happen, your father wouldn't hate to have him as a son in law. He's SOOO friendly when he meets you. Those big strong arms are perfectly suited to lug your bags upstairs to his room. Want help putting stuff away, sure! For a Fem!Reader, he's not suprised how awkward he is when he's unzipping your suitcase, only to be met with some thin lacy garments. He just coughs and backs off. For a Masc!Reader, he wears boxers too! So why does he still feel so hot. He should open a window.
He'll make sure you fit in around campus, mostly steering you in the direction of the athletics department. He'd love to see you at some of his games, cheering him on. You seem so nice, he could really seem himself with you long term, the more he thinks about crushing on you. Besides, you already share a living space. He feels awful about how his body reacts anytime you're too close. You left a jacket behind that smells just like you? He tries not to think about the consequences of fisting his cock into it. Late night out at one of his games? Who cares if you share a dorm and your bed is literally six feet away, it's too far of a walk. Slide into his bed, he's a gentleman. At least until he wakes up the next morning, mind foggy as he instinctively moves his cock up over the waist band, putting a leaky tip against your ass as he resists the urge to press his head into your neck, opting for a pillow instead. He's so, so sorry, but he's gott a deal with it, and you just feel so good. He rationalizes it by saying he's not just some horned up guy, no. You're his roommate, HIS. And what would the Headmasters think! No, he wants a future with you, romance, not just a warm hole to rut...
"Hey, roomie! Listen, practice is running kinda late tonight, so I'm gonna grab food on the way back. Why don't you text me your order, I can bring it back. We can make a whole thing out of it, no need to pay me back! I'm thinking burgers?"
◇ Carter Matthews, student body president, scholar, and in every AP class possible. Even some dumb ones. He doesn't pay much mind to you, you ate very attractive but so is he. If he felt the need for a relationship, he could get whomever he wanted. But he hates... hates how you make the other students, even some of the faculty act. He can't help but follow you around, making sure you obey curfew, and don't get into any trouble. He likes to keep order around here, and it bothers him to have to ignore his student body presidential duties to make sure some delinquent isn't trying to slip you a spiked drink, or some jock has you under the bleachers trying to get your mouth wrapped around their tips.
Eventually, he decides you could be helpful instead of a hinderance. He's busy, may need a form of stress relief, and given babysitting you when Harrison isn't around is one of the main sources of that stress, why shouldn't you help him out. Besides, you look so cute flustered. Maybe it starts small, he tells you your uniform bottoms aren't regulation, and while he tugs them down to 'fix' them, his hands wander a bit too much, grazing the soft skin of your ass. During random room inspections, he may let his hatred of the sports program taking up all the funding by mentioning how obvious it is your roommate wants to stick it in you. Harrison can't stand him, not trusting the cold creepy gaze of the prefect. He'll force you to come to student council meetings, under the guise of assisting him with preparing for a faculty dinner to appease your father, only to get you under his desk while he writes, trying to guide you with one stern hand. He doesn't like to go too deep, not one to enjoy gagging or unnecessary sound that would distract him from working.
"Keep it down." He scolds, cold eyes peering down through blonde bangs. With a sigh, his free hand strokes your cheek. "Just suckle, alright? There'll be plenty of time after I'm done for you to make sweet noises around my cock..."
◇ Evan Reed, CAPTAIN of the swim team, and student assistant PE coach. He's used to play basketball alongside Harrison, but got kicked out for being too violent. Shoving, pushing, and going as far as knocking teeth out. He's a fucking animal. He's handsome, of not a bit of a loner. He isn't popular or unpopular, people tend to leave him alone because of that bad boy attitude and his temper, but he's always welcome to party with the jocks, welcomed into parties and known as a keg-stand king. And boy do you catch his eyes, giving that your always hanging off Harrison, or being trailed by Carter. He's more than happy to accompany you to the pool or help you out in gym class, but it's obvious what he wants. He'll get up behind you in the pool, still smelling of cigarettes as he asks mundane questions while trying to pull your swimsuit to the side and get his hands on that sweet spot between your thighs. Or maybe he'll sit on the edge of the pool, congratulate you on how good your doing, legs spread as he pulls you between them, hoping you'll end up accidentally eyeing his cock. If you are a Masc!Reader, then there's definitely some internalized homophbia. He'll make sure you know these are just normal friend activities, even when he's got you bent over in the boys locker room, ass up. He doesn't EVER plan to be the one on the bottom.
He's a player, chasing tail outside of the school, hitting on peers sisters and mom's alike. But now, he plans to keep you around, not because he necessarily feels like he wants a romantic relationship with you, but because he loooooves how pissed it makes Harrison. He never liked the goody two-shoes, and half suspects he's one of the people who pushed to get him kicked out of basketball. He likes to pick on people, but Harrison sees himself as a knight in shining armor. So it gives Evan a major power boner to make you grind up against him on the dancefloor at some preppy party, while Harrison just has to stand by and not crush his beer can. Evan knows harrison will never, ever do anything to ruin your good guy image of him. Ever.
He's pissed, punching a locker as he let's out a growl. 4-0, what the fuck is wrong with his team? How could they get fucked over so bad after weeks of missing parties for shitty practices. Luckily for him, he sees you on the sidelines, probably waiting for Harrison to walk you back to your dorm. He takes this opportunity to slide up behind you, hands on your hips as you can feel his angry erection rutting up against your ass. "You. Me. Locker room, five minutes, stall three. Be ready, underwear off and bent over or I'll take you in front of the guys who are still changing? Got it?" He departs with a harsh smack on your rear.
◇ Joseph Mick, he's in the newspaper, but it's not like he's the head or anything. He just love photography, and he's the only guy at school to have really mastered the dark room. He's known to be a little... odd. He's the youngest in you and Harrisons class, with a petite stature and thin, lanky arms. He's pale, almost gaunt, but that could be a lack of sunlight given that he spends all his time in the dark room or toiling over photo arrangement mock-ups in the journalism room. People avoid him, but he's okay with that. He's more than happy to just watch from a distance, and photography is his real branch to the world. People only talk to him or react positively if he's taking photos for the paper or the school newsletter. He actually meets you at one of Evan's swim meets, he gets good seats for being student press, and you get good seats for just being Evan's new favorite piece of ass. Your aren't even sure why you were invited, you don't even know anything about how one wins a swimming competition. But Joseph does. He's been to enough of these, and you notice, so you lean over and start asking him questions. He's shocked someone is talking to him, and not about getting a bigger feature in the yearbook. He's more than happy to help point stuff out to you, even if he had to repeat himself or stutter his way through something. He's feeling his heart flutter and his hands shake so much so he can barely hold the camera. Soon, he's watching as you walk away, wishing he could grab onto you and hang you up on his wall to admire like one of his pictures. It's only made worse when he sees a pair of masculine arms dragging you into the boys locker room.
He's a stalker, but it's not his fault! For one, he's got no idea how to approach anyone, much less someone he likes as much as you. And since he's got that reputation as a creep, if he approached you in public, Harrison would be polite but firm at shooing him away, Carter would give him a look that makes him feel like a worm beneath his well polished shoes, and Evan would beat him to the brink of death, but then pass him over to his friends. But God, if he didn't think it was worth it sometimes to just be close to you. He can only get as close to you as his high-focus lens will allow. He's got hundreds of photos of you, some taken by him, some by campus security cams, and he treats each one like the piece that's gonna get him into a top art school. He almost feels bad taking risqué shots of you. He's always following you, and he sees the ways those... those pigs are treating you. If he could stand up to them, he would. He sees (from the cameras he's slipped into your bag) the boner Harrison is always sporting when he in your presence, he even caught a glance of Harrisons late night rendezvous with your pillow. He sees the way Carter leads you through the hallways like his little secretary, lithe fingers trying to get up your uniform bottoms. Worst of all is the way he sees Evan humping you in the pool like a dog in heat, with you obviously unsure about how you feel about this. He knows he'd treat you right, if you'd ever consider being with something like him. Notice he almost feels too bad to take risqué pictures. He can't help it if a picture or two from one of his hidden cams has a bit of an upskirt, or gets a little to zoomed in on your pecs. But know that as he drums humps the table in the dark room, those copies are only so he can keep one in his room and one on his person! He'd never, ever share your sexual exploits, not like Evan would, always bragging about what he does with, or more likely to you.
Being on the newspaper staff, he's got a pretty good idea of everyone's schedules. He's more than happy to try and squeak out some words to you if he knows your many admirers are preoccupied. Trust him, he knows A LOT of good spots to share a meal privately or maybe... maybe you'd like to see the dark room? He's even got a pillow in there, a cushion he can place on a soft stool in case you ever came to visit. He hopes he could get a private photoshoot in, maybe with some silly pictures of you, or even some lewd pics, he's just happy to see his collection expand. He doesn't have a lot of money, but he's more than happy to buy you as much cheap vending machine food as you want as long as you'll spend time with him.
"Oh, shi- hey! I didn't realize you'd be stopping by here. I'm just, uh, editing some photos for the paper." You don't notice as he slyly moves a tray of pics taken outside a dorm window that looks suspiciously like yours. He thanks whoever is out there in this moment that the dark room has a sink as he keeps his right hand out of sight.
◇ Tyler Mertz and Percy 'Pez' Goldberg, two outsiders, and self proclaimed 'dudes with bad tudes'. Put into the same headcanon spot because they aren't ever seen apart. Tyler and Pez got in on scholarship, and immediately bonded because they know they don't fit in among the rich kids at Ridgemoore. Tyler got in on a scholarship to pursue culinary excellence, because if he can do one thing, it's cook. Pez was awarded a scholarship by lottery two years ago, and even though he's barely passing most of his classes and is the biggest delinquent in school, he can't be kicked out. The school made too much of a big deal about his acceptance to create some good press, the faculty are planning to just wait the problem out. Repeating a year hasn't helped with that, though. Still, they are attached at the hip. Both struggle in classes, Pez because of a shitty social life and even shittier focus, and Tyler because he's just a little slow. Still, Tyler excels in cooking, and the faculty know he's trying. There's a few ways you might come across the pair. Maybe you decided to take culinary, and got paired up with a sweet, dopey guy who turns out to be a fucking MasterChef, or maybe your a brat!reader, like I mentioned earlier, and you meet Pez in detention, where he's glad to know the schools newest troublemaker is a looker too. Most likely, you come across them when either Evan makes you tag along to buy some weed and half-priced shitty beer for a post-game party, or Carter tells you he'll personally see to it that your father tethers you to him if he sees you talking to those 'deliquents'. Either way, they're probably some of the nicest guys in the school, even though Pez likes to fight. He's not a bad guy, but the school can't seem to recognize half of the shit he does is in retaliation to someone fucking with him or his friend.
Pez will like any kind of reader, any. If you're bratty!reader, he loves having someone to run around and bust shit up with. But he'll promise to leave the statue of your father alone, if that's what you want. If you're an innocent!reader, he can't deny he'd love to ruin that good guy/girl image you have going on. Smoke a little weed, sneak out a little, let him show you a good time. He promises he won't cross any lines or do something that would really scare or upset you. He's not a bad guy, he just wants to show you there's so much stuff out there to do. Unlike Joseph, he doesn't let the fact that others think he's a freak keep him from hanging with you. He wants them to see that you like him. HIM. He thinks your adorable no matter who you are, and frankly, snuggling up on the Headmasters kid is just another act of defiance he's happy to flaunt. Eventually, he might even open up to you about his shitty home life, and the fact he's only called Pez cause' when he's high that candy is all he wants to eat.
Tyler is a huge softie. He doesn't let the thing people say about him get to him, mostly because he's a bit dense in the moment to know he's being made fun of, but also because he's okay with being alone. He's happy with who he is, a nice guy. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't love his best buddy, or mind adding you to there little group. It's just one more mouth to feed in his eyes. He'll walk you to all your classes, slinging his big arms around you and keeping you close to his side. Unlike Pez, he grew up with a pretty loving family, and they're what he misses most about being away at boarding school. Most of the money he makes selling weed with Pez goes back to his family, but they don't really know how he makes it. He comes to see you and Pez as his new little family.
With these two, there will be lots of late nights with bad movies and pizza made from scratch. Being on some rundown couch squished between to large bodies, at least one set of arms wrapped around your waist. I think they both are pretty open about telling each other about the crush they have on you, given that they are best buds. These idiots probably got super high one night, and Tyler let slip that he, quote, 'thinks he wants to put a baby in you', to which Pez replies he'd like to put something along those lines in you too. It wouldn't be hard for them to both come to terms with wanting to share you, they share everything else. They just hope you'd want both of them, Pez and Tyler can't stand the thought of making things awkward by you only wanting one of them, so they both subtly try to transition you into the roll of being their partner.
Pez would be fucking fuming when he starts realizing the things boys at school are doing to you. Whether he witnesses it himself, or you come to him and Tyler seeking comfort, he'll pound the shit out of anyone who tries to touch you like that. If you like someone else, Pez wouldn't wail on them to eliminate a rival like Evan would, but rather he hands it over to Tyler. Tyler would come up with some rumors, maybe a reason the guy isn't right for you, and why would Tyler lie? He doesn't feel great about lying, but thinking about the things guys at this school do to you, fills the sweet chefs stomach with a bitter bile.
They wouldn't outright pressure you into sex, but rather try and find ways to coerce you into requesting or initiating it. Pez has some weed laced with something, nothing too strong, but it'll make even a nun feel a little frisky. He'll lay back or rub your thigh, hoping the weed will relax you enough to come out and say what you want. Maybe an aphrodisiac or two gets slipped into a warm drink Tyler made for you. It gets you feeling all hot, but don't worry, you can stay in their room overnight and wear their clothes, so they can... make sure you're not sick or anything.
"Hey," you can feel a pair of arms wrap around you from your spot at the library table. You look up and see Pez, with Tyler now playfully laying his head on the table beside you. "Heard that shithead Evan's got an away game, so it looks like your freed up after all to spend a little time with your favorite guys." His lips are dangerously close to your ear, making you squirm. "Yeah, man, we've got a bunch of movies n' shit from the store, and I'll even make your favorite. Stay the night, it's not like we've got anywhere to be tommorow, and my beds so cold..." Tyler teases playfully, eyes wide and feigning sadness.
All these boys make it difficult to get any alone time at Ridgemoor, but the men certainly don't make it easier... (Taboo part two with the faculty coming soon, because I'm horny for Dilfs and old men with questionable dynamics with reader.)
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peachylynnie · 8 months ago
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sick
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word count: 1.8k
synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?
contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.
a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)
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you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.
"shit…" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.
"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why now…" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.
you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.
the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.
how the hell did he get in? you don’t remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.
unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."
you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.
"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."
you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone… well, let's say you learned your lesson.
weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.
sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.
under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. instead—again, you blame it on your exhaustion—you tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.
you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.
"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation… just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.
"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."
with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.
sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"
you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.
quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.
"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylus…" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.
adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.
trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."
well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.
your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, and…" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.
"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.
you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.
"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."
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flowersforbucky · 1 year ago
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down bad
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bucky barnes x reader
word count: 3.9k
author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.
warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only
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“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”
“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.
“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.
“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.
“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”
“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”
“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.
“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”
“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”
Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.
Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.
“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”
“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.
“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.
Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.
“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.
“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.
“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.
“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.
“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.
“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”
“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”
— — — — —
One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.
What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?
You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–
“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.
You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…
Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.
“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”
“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.
“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”
“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.
There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.
“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.
To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.
“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.
Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.
“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”
If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.
“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.
“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.
“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”
“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.
You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.
Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.
You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.
You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.
The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.
You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.
“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.
“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”
“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.
Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.
“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.
“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.
“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”
He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.
“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.
“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”
Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.
He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.
At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.
“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”
“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.
“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.
You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.
“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”
“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.
He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.
His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.
His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.
If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.
“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”
“I say show me the way.”
He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.
Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.
He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.
The very last door opens without a hitch.
Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.
Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.
You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.
He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.
You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.
He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.
You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.
He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.
You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.
“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.
You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.
You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -
“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”
His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.
He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.
“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.
You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.
You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.
He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.
He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.
God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…
Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.
You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.
His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.
“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.
It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.
You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.
When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.
“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”
“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.
He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.
It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.
“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”
You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.
You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”
You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.
Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.
♡♡♡♡♡
i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭
as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!
my masterlist
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agreeewrites · 5 months ago
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i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏
combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶
1000 secret kisses | R.B.
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cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinkin
masterlist
Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.
“Truth,” Barty replied.
“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.
Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.
“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”
The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.
That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.
You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.
You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.
This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.
“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”
“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.
“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.
“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.
“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”
“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.
You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”
“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”
You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.
That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.
Regulus Arcturus Black.
Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.
“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”
Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?
“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.
You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.
“Dare.”
Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”
“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.
“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”
“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”
“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.
You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”
“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.
“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.
You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.
Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.
You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.
Already, you were making him sweat.
You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.
Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.
You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.
Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.
Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.
Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.
You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.
“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.
“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.
You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.
Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.
“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”
You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.
“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.
Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.
“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”
Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”
You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.
Everyone ooooh’d.
“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”
Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.
Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”
“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.
“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.
“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.
You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.
Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.
“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.
Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.
You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.
As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”
Barty gaped like a fish.
Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”
Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.
“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.
Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.
“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.
Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.
But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.
© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.
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heich0e · 6 months ago
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"so... how's work?"
you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.
"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"
suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.
suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.
and he has yet to turn down your instigation.
your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.
"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"
you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.
"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."
suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.
"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."
you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.
"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.
"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.
what the fuck is going on?
you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.
everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.
"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.
suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.
you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.
"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."
right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.
you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.
you think about asking him.
but you don't.
suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."
you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.
you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.
suna laughs.
you look at him in confusion.
"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"
your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?
"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"
rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.
"there is actually," he says with a nod.
"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"
"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"
you slowly look overhead.
like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.
you feel sick.
"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.
"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.
"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."
"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.
"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."
suna shrugs a bit.
you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.
"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"
"can i kiss you?"
what?
"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."
why?
suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.
"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.
"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.
suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.
"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."
and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.
a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it
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nanamiskentos · 7 months ago
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taking a shower with the jujutsu kaisen men
gojo — despite what his no.1 hater says (gege) i'm telling you and promising you that he showers daily. trust me when i say his white hair is fluffy fresh. spends way too long in the shower and you get a bit bored because he's hyping himself in the mirror beforehand (who's the strongest? you are!). uses a fancy, overpriced shampoo that smells like tropical fruits but leaves the cap off each time. has broken 2-3 waterproof speakers before. once bought a waterproof phone case to scroll his phone in the shower, but ended up getting distracted on tiktok until the water went cold. his bathroom looks like a high end salon, more products than an influencer. leaves little hearts in the condensation on the mirror
nanami — you have your regular showers with nanami, but he's really more of a bath guy i think. like i'm saying a glass of wine and a candle. if he doesn't like you or your name is gojo satoru, then interrupting him here will result in the worst lecture you've ever heard in your life, but if he likes enough, he'll let you sit on the edge of the bath with him and talk about your day. the most pristine bathroom of all time, it's literally a spa. you once asked if his shower head was imbued with cursed energy, because it's just that precise and perfect. very possessive about his towels.
geto — definitely the type to stand under the shower and waste the hot water. this is mainly because he can't help but monologue about his philosophy for too long, and by then, you've hopped out and left him there. the most perfect cherry-blossom floral scented shampoo is the only thing that can touch his thick, glossy hair. his hair is probably stuck to the shower wall a lot, but he tries to blame it on you. weirdly eclectic shower playlists that range from ominous, chanting ballads to 2000s boybands because he claims he's a man with layers.
toji — for a man with a kinda gross job (like assassination isn't all that great right...) he smells good. but that depends on who you ask, because sometimes the scent of cologne is so strong, you feel a little nauseous. prob uses a 3-1 body wash, shampoo and conditioner because its 'all the same anyway.' this makes you cry! spends about three minutes in the shower each time, and then leaves without even drying himself, soaking wet and rawdogging the world. once got a bathrobe as a gift and tried it on for fun, but now uses it all the time when he's lounging around to eat takeout.
sukuna — once asked you to join him for a bath, and you agreed. let's just say you took a big step back when you realises why the bathwater was a thick, gloopy red. you once gave him rubber duckies as a present and he pretended to hate them and gagged. you caught him lining them up in military formation along the edges of the bathtub for 'reasons that aren't your concern.' ended up almost coughing a lung out after accidentally ingesting one too many bubbles. hates most modern inventions but enjoys a good loofah.
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muqingslover · 2 months ago
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I just wanted to ask you (since I saw this prompt before and I wanted to hear your take on it), in a Cherry Magic AU setting, MC can hear the thoughts of the lads men. Who do you think would have the most unhinged train of thoughts/ stream of consciousness?
I just have a feeling that Zayne would be the most surprising/unhinged since he's so calm and collected, even cold on the outside, so he has to keep a lot inside. (Or maybe I'm just biased because I'm a Zayne girlie and he's my pookie)
I absolutely love the way you write! The flow is so nice and easy to follow. Overall, it's relaxing and entertaining to read what you write!!
[ AAA THANK YOU SM FOR THE KIND FEEDBACK! it means everything to me I'm so so so glad you enjoy it! 💕🫂 I actually didn't know what Cherry Magic was but omg?! it's so cute!? I just had to do this! ]
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Coming in hot in first place we have the IT boy himself.
His thoughts are not technically unhinged as they are just OVERWHELMING.
You would be having lunch and Caleb's sitting across of you like 😊 while his mind is filled with so much stuff.
'Their lips are a bit redder today...Is it because of the spice? I should tone it down next time, oh but they look so cute like that. Their eyes are all watery it's so damn cute, so cute so, so so cute— Huh? They're staring? Oh *I* am the one that's staring. Look away look away, yeah, alright, smooth.'
His thoughts are extremely noisy all. the. time. It's pretty much about everything, but especially you.
I also feel like he repeats a lot of words regarding you like he'd immediately go 'Cute, cute, cute cute cute—' when you laugh at what he said or have an internal panic if you did something to tease him 'Too close oh god— They're close, close, close, too damn close— I can feel their body warmth—'
CATCH HIS LYING ASS POOKIES, I mean ahem.
Guys this man will have the most innocent smile on his face when he claims he'd never do something and when you take a peek inside his thoughts he is most definitely thinking about doing it.
"I have no reason to steal your clothes. C'mon now pipsqueak— Yes, yes, I pinky promise I'm not messing with you this time."
'Shit shit shit shit shit. I didn't have time to wash it yet— Why are they doing laundry today anyway? They usually only do it on Friday nights.'
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Second place belongs to none other than to the neighborhood freak.
Now Xavier is a mix of absolutely empty no thoughts at all to freaky ahh stuff.
He will have a nonchalant face but his thoughts? oh dear lord.
"My throat feels a bit sore because of the weather recently."
"Let's buy some cough drops for you on our way back."
'I wonder if I can still do it tonight...I wouldn't want them to hurt their throat more. Oh. If I cover their mouth shouldn't it be fine? What should I use...Wait, I should ask them later about it...........I wonder if they'll sit on my face again.....that was nice..........Kinda sleepy.'
He is also the only one of the crew that is not particularly embarrassed, freaked out or even worried that you can read his thoughts.
If anything, Xavier believes it makes communication a whole lot easier. Sometimes he's so tired that even speaking takes a lot of energy from him so being able to tell you what he wants just by touching you is an advantage.
Yes, he will absolutely think about freaky things on purpose only to see your face turning red.
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I think fishie takes third place.
#Meangirl alert. /hj
Rather than it being about you it's more about his brutal honesty in general. Lord have mercy when he is grading projects from his classes.
Rafayel is someone that calculates his words (and actions) A LOT, which means this is a nightmare for him. He doesn't want you to see past the fun, sassy persona he shows you.
Especially if the subject about his past came up because then things could get real ugly, real quick.
"I would never hurt you like that, Raf."
'...That sounds like a cruel joke. You don't know that. You don't know anything about me. About us. How is this fair? How can I tell you about what you did— About what *I* had to do when you look at me like that?'
"...I know. I trust you."
You would also realize he is actually a lot more apathetic towards others than expected. The humans' opinions/ problems are simply not something he can bring himself to genuinely care about unless they affect him or you directly.
Lastly, he hums and sings A LOT in his head. Usually they're very old, beautiful songs from his homeland and it's really nice to tune in his private radio station.
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Maybe controversial but this man's thoughts are clean as a whistle.
Unless he is actively doing something sexual Sylus is not thinking about anything remotely dirty.
Personally I believe his mind is quiet in general. He has an internal "To-do list" and that's what you will hear for most of the time.
'Oh, their water bottle is cracked. I should get them a new one soon. The twins' new jackets are being delivered today, that's good. It's getting colder already I don't want them to get sick again. The new supplies will need my signature so I must return before the sunrise. Tomorrow the new restaurant they mentioned opens, I'll make sure to ask them for dinner. '
On the other hand, his thoughts can also be quite vulnerable and insecure towards your relationship with him.
Almost every night when he holds you in his arms you will hear him think 'Please stay with me.' and he sounds so genuinely afraid.
You will also hear him think a looooot of 'I love you' during the day at random times. He's just a large, lovestruck puppy looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
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The calmest thoughts but the cutest of all of the boys.
Like, you don't understand he's sooo damn cute.
Zayne may look like he'd rather be anywhere else but here and then you touch him and what you get is
'...I wish I had gotten the limited cat keychain from the cafe. Perhaps they'll rerun it next spring. I'll take them with me then........We could get matching ones....Well, if they agree to go with me. Or I could bring it to them as a gift, that would be nice too.'
Another one that has an mental "To-do list". During work hours he's extremely focused and his thoughts rarely, if ever, stray from what he's doing.
When with you his mind is calm (unless you're teasing this poor man because then his mind is going into OVERDRIVE.) and his internal comments are suuuuper soft and loving.
'Their hair is styled today...it looks really nice. Should I tell them? ....No, it's best not to. Hm....Oh, right. I have some leftover candy from my appointments today, I'll give them some instead.'
10/10 experience guarantee.
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bizarrelovetriangel · 3 months ago
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starstruck.
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coming home drunk and showering xavier with kisses
short fluff <3 inspired by this lol
Xavier wondered what you were doing. He's at home, observing his fitness watch app when he noticed that your heart rate has been picking up. It's nothing alarming, but it makes him curious about what you could possibly be up to at this time of night.
He got his answer two hours later when Tara knocked on his door with your arms wrapped around her shoulders, giggling uncontrollably about something.
"Thank god you're here." Tara passes your swaying body over to Xavier, who then steadied you by putting one hand on your waist and another on the small of your back. "She kind of drank a little too much, so..... good luck and good night!"
"Huh?"
Soom after Tara vanished, Xavier felt his cheeks being squished by two cold hands. "Ooohh, no way! You look just like this guy that I like!"
"...oh no."
During the last ten minutes, Xavier has been trying to get you to drink water.
"I'm not drinking that love potion!"
You keep running away from him and occasionally bumping against his furnitures and the walls of his apartment.
You were giggling while looking over your shoulder, trying to see how far he is from you when suddenly, you bumped into....Xavier.
"Wha- how did you - " You suddenly gripped his shirt. "Oh, Xavier! You're not gonna believe this! Someone who looks just like you wants to give me a love potion! I think he might be Lumie- ah!"
Xavier threw you over his shoulder and did his best to hold tightly as you wiggled dramatically to free yourself from him. "I just want to give you some water."
He set you down on the couch and got on one knee in front of you so that he could give you the glass of water.
You blinked and stared at him with wide eyes, pupils dilated and body petrified.
Xavier tilted his head. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" The moment his hand brushed against your cheek, you gasped and recoiled. "Hmm?"
"...pretty...."
/////////////
You woke up with the worst headache of your life. You're never drinking ever again.
You say that every time you get drunk, but you really mean it this time. It doesn't matter how good the drinks are - you can only have one drink from now on! No more!
"Ugh..."
You opened your eyes and recognized Xavier's bedroom. You're wearing your pajama shorts and one of Xavier's comfortable shirts that's enveloping you with his scent.
Xavier is still sleeping next to you, back facing you and face partly buried on his pillow.
You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer and cuddle with him, especially since he always looks extra soft in the mornings, but your dry mouth is forcing you to get up and hydrate yourself.
And so, you dragged yourself to the kitchen. Along with a pill that'll help with your hangover, you took a big gulp of refeshing cold water.
"Good morning." a tired voice greets you through a yawn. "How are you feeling?"
You turned around to face Xavier and immediately choked on your water.
"PFFFFTTTT - "
You coughed and spat out some water, putting a hand on your throat as you felt it burn slightly.
"Are you okay?!"
Xavier ran over to check on you, giving you a closer look at his body's....modifications. He's only wearing his pajama pants, so everything else is out on display.
"That's...."
Xavier realized you're gawking at him - specifically at the lipstick stains all over his face, neck, and chest.
The kiss marks are the same shade of red that you wore last night when you went out with Tara and Simone.
"Oh god..."
Your right hand reached for Xavier's face and your thumb started to wipe one kiss mark on his cheek.
You almost forgot about it, but now the faint memory of you peppering kisses all over Xavier is slowly coming back to you.
You just remembered him looking so dazzling and you were overcome with the urge to kiss him.... a lot, apparently.
"You could've at least wiped them off before falling asleep."
Xavier smiled and shook his head. "I don't mind them. You were having a lot of fun and it was helping you calm down. I'm glad I was able to help."
"Ugh. I'm never drinking again."
"That's what you said last time." Xavier laughs, nuzzling his face against the hand that was wiping him. "But it's okay. As long as I'm your only victim, I don't mind taking care of drunk you."
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pitlanepeach · 30 days ago
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The Long Way Home I Chapter Five
Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)
Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.
It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.
Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!
Notes — I listened to Never Be (5sos) exclusively while writing this chapter. Make of that what you will.
Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist
They sat in one of the smaller meeting rooms off the admin hallway. Too clean. Too bright. Harper sat stiffly on one side of the table, Oscar next to her, foot bouncing under the chair. Chris sat across from them with his hands folded in front of him.
Harper thought Chris looked like Oscar — or, she supposed, Oscar looked Chris.
Chris was just older. Somehow calmer than her stony faced, rarely phased boyfriend.
Although that wasn't hard right now — she wasn't sure Oscar had been calm since she barged into the boys dorms four days ago, all wide-eyed and panicked.
Chris cleared his throat gently. "Okay. First things first—you're both fine. No one's angry at you. We're not going to panic. We're just going to figure this out."
Harper nodded once. Her hands were fisted around her skirt and her shoes tapped against the floor with every nervous motion.
Chris looked between them. "That said, I'm going to ask you both some questions that might feel a little uncomfortable, but they're important. Okay?"
Oscar groaned softly. "Dad..."
Chris gave him a dry look. "You don't get to be squeamish now, mate."
Harper actually let out a breath of a laugh, but it sounded more like a cough.
Chris turned to her gently. "Harper. Have you seen a doctor, or just taken the pregnancy tests?"
"Just the tests," she told him. "I—uh, I don't have a GP here. My mum takes me to doctors all over the country. Private clinics. Some in London, some in Geneva. It just... depends where she is."
Chris nodded slowly, absorbing that. "Okay. That's fine. We can sort that out. But you do need to be seen by someone soon — someone consistent. I'll speak to your mum, just to make sure you're healthy and everything's progressing safely—"
Harper's head snapped up.
"You'll speak to my mum?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous. Her eyes were wide now, panic blooming behind them. "No. No, no, no. You can't speak to my mum. She'll lose it. She'll be even angrier if I let someone else tell her."
Oscar shifted beside her, already on edge. "Dad—"
Chris held up a hand, not unkindly. "Alright. I hear you, Harper. I do. I'm not going to call her out of the blue."
"She'll think I'm doing it to humiliate her," Harper went on, fast now, tripping over her own words. "Like I'm trying to ruin her reputation or something. She'll go nuclear. She always does when she doesn't feel in control. And this—" she gestured vaguely to her stomach, her voice cracking, "this is like her worst nightmare."
Chris watched her for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Okay," he said gently. "Then we make a plan. You'll be the one to tell her. In your own words. On your terms. But we can't avoid this, Harper. She's your mother. She's part of this, even if it's hard."
Harper nodded, small and quick, but her hands were shaking now.
Oscar slid his hand over hers under the table, gave it a quick squeeze. She didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away either.
Chris remained calm, his tone steady. "I also need to ask—are either of you, um, involved with anyone else? Right now or before? I don't need names or details. It's just about making sure you're both medically okay."
Harper flushed red, heat creeping from her collar to her cheeks. "No," she mumbled. "Only ever Oscar."
"Only ever Harper," Oscar echoed, a beat late and way too loud.
Chris gave a small nod. "Okay. That's good to know. But we'll still need to get you both checked out. Full screenings, just to be safe."
"My mum's going to want us to see someone on her books," Harper said under her breath, eyes flicking away. "For... confidentiality reasons."
Chris blinked. "Confidentiality?"
"She—she's kind of a big deal," Harper admitted. "She founded La Ruche. It's a fashion label."
Chris's eyebrows rose, just slightly.
"And my dad was... J.J. Whiatt."
Chris leaned back, exhaled slow. "Jesus. That complicates things."
Harper's bottom lip wobbled. "I'm sorry."
Oscar shifted, dragging Harper's chair closer to his, one arm sliding protectively around her shoulders. He whispered something just for her — soft and steady — and she nodded, breathing a little slower.
Chris sat forward again. "Look, I don't want to overwhelm you. I know this is scary. But you need to tell your mum, Harper. Nothing can happen here until she knows, and things need to start happening." He stared at them for a beat. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning. If you haven't told her by then, I'll do it myself. Okay?"
There was a pause.
Then Harper whispered, "Okay."
Chris gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you. You're part of this family now, Harper. Our family. That means than I'm going to look out for you, same as we do for him."
Oscar looked up, throat tight. "Dad?"
Chris met his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Oscar said. "Neither of us meant for any of this to happen."
Chris nodded. "I know. But it did. And now we handle it — like adults."
Oscar didn't respond right away. Then he reached across the table and hooked his pinky around Harper's. Held it tight.
Chris noticed. Didn't say a word. Just flipped open his notebook.
"Okay," he said. "Let's make a to-do list."
They sat outside Oscar's dorm window, backs against the brick wall, knees bumped together. It was stupid cold, but neither of them cared. Harper was wearing his blazer — it was two sizes too big on her and covered her skirt and made it took like she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.
She was quiet. Had been for a while.
Oscar kicked a loose stone. "You okay?"
Harper shrugged, but it wasn't a real answer. Her arms were wrapped around her knees.
After another minute, she muttered, "My mum wasn't always like she is now, you know."
Oscar looked over. She wasn't looking at him.
"She used to laugh at my jokes. Braid my hair for ballet. We used to bake Christmas biscuits together and she'd make my birthday cake every year from scratch."
He didn't say anything, just listened.
"When I was nine," she said, voice weirdly flat. "Me and my dad went on a ski trip. He thought it'd be a good bonding experience — just the two of us."
Oscar turned his full body toward her, heart sinking. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist.
"There was a helicopter," she said. "We were flying off the mountain. There was a storm. It wasn't — nobody expected it. And we went down."
Oscar stared at her. "Wait, what?"
She nodded. "I don't remember us actually going down. I just remember waking up. I was so cold. I couldn't feel my legs. My back hurt. And my arm was... all messed up." She looked down at her hands. "Everyone died. The pilot, his co-pilot, and my dad. But I just... didn't."
"Jesus," Oscar whispered.
Harper gave a weak little smile. "Yeah."
He didn't know what to say. He didn't have the right words for helicopter crashes or dead dads. So he just sat there, panicking quietly.
She didn't seem to expect anything, though. "I've got some scars," she said. "On my back. From the crash. I usually hide them." She smiled at him, a bit wry. "I guess I got good at it."
Oscar frowned and shifted closer to her. "Wait, like... real scars?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, fake ones."
He blushed, and she sighed. Then, carefully, she tugged the back of his blazer and her white shirt up. Just enough to show him. A couple of pale, rough-edged marks trailed across her lower back, like lightning marks carved deeply into her skin.
Oscar's heart thudded at the sight of them. His throat thickened. "Shit," he said, because what else was there?
She pulled her shirt back down quickly and looked away. "It's gross. Whatever."
"No," he said fast. "No, it's not. It's not gross, it's... I dunno." He raised his hand to touch her and then dropped it again with a flush in his cheeks. "Sorry. I just — I can't believe I never noticed."
That made her snort, just a little. "It's fine. My mum didn't even visit me until three days afterwards," Harper said with a shrug. "When she did, she acted more like she was visiting some stranger in hospital than her daughter. I was crying in pain and she that I needed to suck it up because I should've just been grateful to be alive. And then she said that my crying was making people uncomfortable."
Oscar clenched his jaw. "She sucks."
Harper smiled at that, but it was a sad kind of smile. "She started treating me different after that," she said. "Like I'd made her life harder by surviving."
Oscar reached out and bumped her knee with his. "You didn't."
She sniffed. "Feels like I did."
"I can't believe you survived a helicopter crash," Oscar said after a bit, eyes still on the horizon. "You might be the luckiest person I know."
She gave him a look. "Osc. I'm pregnant. At fifteen."
He grinned faintly. "Okay, yeah. But still."
Harper choked on a laugh. "Right. Thanks," she mumbled.
"For what?"
"For not saying something stupid."
Oscar shrugged. "Just wish I could make it all better for you."
"Yeah," she mumbled. "Me too."
Oscar slipped out of the library after study-hour and ducked behind the music building, phone pressed tight to his ear. He already knew what was coming. His dad had warned him. Still, nothing prepared him for the moment her voice broke through.
"Oscar."
It was sharp. Cracked down the middle. He flinched.
"Mum—"
"I trusted you." Her voice rose — not angry, exactly. More stunned. Wounded. "I trusted you to go to England and be smart. To focus. To take this opportunity seriously."
"I am taking it seriously."
"Clearly not seriously enough if you're knocking up boarding school girls in your dorm—"
"Mum." He winced. Cut her off. "Please don't talk about Harper like that."
There was a pause. A huff. Not quite crying. Not yet. "I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you. My son. The one I thought had more sense than this."
Oscar pressed a hand to his forehead. The wall behind him was cool against his back. "I didn't mean for this to happen." He felt like a broken record. "Neither of us did."
"No one ever means for it to happen." Her voice was tight, clipped. "And now what? What do you think happens now, Osc? A fairy-tale ending?"
"No." He was quiet a second. "No. I think we just have to deal with it."
Another pause. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. "I feel like I don't even know you right now."
That one hurt more than anything else. He stared out across the courtyard, eyes stinging. "I'm still me, Mum."
"Are you?" she snapped. Then softer, more pained. "God. You're still a baby yourself. You're fifteen."
"I know."
"You're fifteen, Oscar. And I've seen fifteen. I was fifteen. When I was your age all I cared about was Billy Joel and which shop would sell me my next pack of cigarettes."
He breathed through his nose. "I know."
Nicole didn't answer for a long time.
When she did, it was quiet. Flat. "Your father's there now?"
"Yeah."
"So, what's the plan, Oscar?" She asked on a sigh. "Are you going to raise a child together at boarding school? Split custody between the boys and girls dorms?"
"We haven't even decided anything yet."
"God," she muttered. "Oscar, I just—" Her voice cracked. "I wanted so much more for you."
He swallowed. "I'm sorry."
"Jesus," she breathed. "Okay. Okay. I need to... I'll call you later. I'm not—I'm not in a good place to say anything else right now."
"Okay." He hesitated. "Mum?"
"What?"
"I really am sorry."
Silence.
Then, "I know, Osc. I know."
She hung up.
Oscar leaned his head against the wall, the guilt crawling under his skin like it belonged there.
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stared at the astroturf where the year eights were playing tackle rugby.
And he sat there until the next bell rung.
Harper sat on the cold stone steps just below the landing outside the girls dorm — the one spot on campus where phone reception was always strongest. Her knees were pulled to her chest, Oscar's racing hoodie baggy and warm on top of her school uniform. She'd been staring at her phone for ten minutes.
The screen glowed.
Mummy (Victoria)
She tapped the call icon before she could think too hard.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—
"Harper?" Victoria Whiatt's voice was sharp, brisk. "It's a school night. Why are you calling?"
Harper's voice caught in her throat. She tried to swallow it back down. "I — Hi, Mum," she whispered. "Can you... would you be able to come to Haileybury, please?"
Silence.
"It's just that... I need you," she said, the words tumbling out. "Please. Mum—Mummy, please." She closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I need you to come. I'm scared and I don't know what to do."
"Harper," her mother said, voice clipped with impatience. "What's going on? Have you done something wrong? Are you in trouble? God, do I need to call my lawyers?"
Harper pressed the heel of her palm to her eye. She didn't want to say it like this. She'd planned to be calm. Clear. Strong. But now her whole body was shaking and she was begging her mother — calling her mummy out-loud for the first time since she was eight — and it had all turned into a big mess.
"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. But I need help. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared, and—"
"You're what?" Victoria's voice was suddenly thin. "God. Jesus fucking Christ. Harper Grace — tell me you're joking."
Harper's breath hitched. "I'm not. I just—Mum, please. Please come. I need my mum. I need you."
The silence was suffocating.
When her mother finally spoke, her voice was tight. Controlled. "How far along?"
"I don't know. A few weeks. The test said three plus. I need to see a doctor but—"
Her mother cut her off with a low curse. "Christ. You're fifteen. Fifteen, Harper. You're still a child!"
"I know," Harper said, her voice breaking. "And I promise that I didn't mean for this to happen. But it has and I know that I'm stupid and an idiot and all of the other horrible things you want to call me right now — but I'm scared and alone and I need you to help me, mum."
Her mother didn't respond right away. Harper could hear something rustling — maybe papers, or her mother's laptop.
"Mum?" She whispered.
"I'm in Milan," Victoria said stiffly. "I have a show tomorrow."
"I don't care about your show." Harper's voice rose, desperate. "Please. Please just come."
A long pause.
"I'll be on a flight tonight."
Harper let out a tiny breath, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Is it his? The kart boy? Is it his baby?" She asked.
Harper nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I — Yeah. It's his baby."
"Right then. I'll be there at seven a.m. tomorrow morning." Was all her mother said. And then she ended the call.
Harper curled tighter into the stairwell wall, phone still clutched in her hand.
And then the crying started — not the quiet, clenched kind she'd perfected over the years.
But loud, messy sobs that racked her chest and made her shoulders shake.
Jane found her less than a minute later.
She didn't ask questions. Just dropped to the step beside her, wrapped both arms around her like she could hold her together, and pressed her cheek to Harper's hair.
Harper sobbed into her shirt.
Five minutes later, Oscar rounded the corner in his uniform — blazer unbuttoned, tie crooked. He paused mid-step when he saw them. Just froze.
His breath caught.
Harper, curled in on herself like something broken. Jane holding her. The echo of her crying bouncing up the stone walls.
Oscar's stomach dropped.
"Shit," he whispered, voice barely audible.
Then he moved.
He jogged the last few steps, dropping to his knees on Harper's other side. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud.
"Hey, hey," he said gently, reaching for her, brushing her hair back. "I'm here."
Harper turned blindly into his chest without thinking, her sobs still shuddering through her.
Jane shifted, giving him space, her face tight with worry.
Oscar pulled Harper into his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady at her spine. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't have to.
He just held her tighter.
"Love you," he whispered, barely more than a breath.
"Love you too." She hiccuped.
The classroom was cold despite the sunlight cutting across the desks in crooked lines. Harper sat with her arms folded over her notebook, pen resting in the crease of the spine. She wasn't writing. Just breathing.
Her eyes were still red and swollen.
Oscar slid into the seat beside her, spinning his pencil once before leaning close.
"You good?" He murmured.
She didn't look at him. "Not really."
He was quiet for a second, then said, in a low, overly serious voice, "The eagle is landing near the river tonight. Nest secured. Feathers ruffled, but holding."
Harper blinked at him. "What?"
"It's code," he said, a bit flustered. "My dad. Staying at the hotel near the river. He's had the heads up that he'll be meeting the Mothership tomorrow."
She winced. "Please don't call my mother that."
"Operation Parental Peace Summit is a go. He said he'll be there when she arrives. You, me, him, Queen Doom herself — roundtable discussions. Treaties. Diplomacy."
She gave a faint, exhausted laugh. "You're so ridiculous. I don't know what you're saying, Oscar."
"Code is effective," he whispered. Then he smiled at her, all teeth — and she realised that he was just messing around. Trying to make her smile.
It'd worked.
Harper hesitated, staring at the lined page in front of her. "I think..." she started. "I think the idea of not keeping — it — makes me feel worse than I thought it would."
Oscar's expression softened immediately, his eyebrows coming together. "Okay." He said quietly.
She kept her voice low. "I'm not saying I've decided. Just — I get this tight feeling in my chest when I imagine... not going through with it."
Oscar nodded slowly. "Okay."
Before either of them could say more, the teacher turned from the whiteboard.
"Mr. Piastri. Miss Whiatt. Something to share with the class?"
Oscar straightened, fake smile already in place. "Just discussing international conflict resolution, sir."
"Save it for Model UN." The teacher glared at them.
Harper hid a smile, ducking behind her hair. The teacher turned back to the board.
Oscar passed her a note under the desk.
I'm on your side whatever you decide.
Harper traced the edge of the paper with her thumb.
The next morning, Harper waited just outside the school reception, blazer buttoned unevenly and hands fidgeting with the hem of her pleated skirt. The courtyard was grey and thick was early morning mist, the kind that clung to skin and made her hair frizz no matter what she did to try and stop it.
She'd been up since five. Couldn't sleep. Could barely even manage the breakfast bar that Jane had shoved at her. She'd brushed her teeth twice and still felt sick.
Her fingers trembled as the black town car pulled up — sleek and silent.
The suit-clad driver stepped out and opened the back door.
Victoria Whiatt emerged like she was stepping onto a runway. Designer coat, dark glasses even in the morning haze, heels clicking across the old stone. She didn't look like she'd spent the night on a plane. She looked like she was ready for a press release.
Harper stood up straighter without meaning to.
Her mother's eyes scanned her. Once. Head to toe. "You look haggard."
"Hi, Mum," Harper said quietly.
Victoria took off her sunglasses slowly. "Is that really what they make you wear here? I don't remember it being so — juvenile."
Harper blinked.
"Your skirt is creased. And the buttons on that blazer — God, Harper, how hard is it to dress yourself like a normal, respectable person?"
"I—I didn't sleep much." She managed.
"I should think not." There was a long pause. Victoria looked around at the school buildings like they were beneath her. Then her eyes snapped back to Harper. "So." Her voice was sharp. "Where is he?"
Harper's fingers clenched around the strap of her bag. "He's with his dad. They're—waiting for us to go to meet them at the hotel he's staying at."
Another pause.
"I don't want a performance out of you," Victoria said coolly. "I don't want tears or sentiment. I want honesty. I want facts. And I want to know how you could possibly be this irresponsible!"
Harper flinched. But she nodded. "Yes, Mum."
"Fix your blazer," Victoria muttered, already turning away. "And get in the car. Which hotel?"
"The nice one. The one you stayed at when I first moved here," Harper said, forcing her voice to stay even.
Victoria exhaled slowly. "Of course. The one with the mediocre wine list and the doorman who talks too much."
She opened the passenger door with a perfectly manicured hand. Harper moved around to the other side, heart pounding against her ribs.
They sat in silence for a moment as the driver pulled away from the school gates.
"So, they've got money then?" Victoria asked, eyes still on the road ahead. Her voice was light, sharp as a needle. "That's nice. I'm sure it'll make this a lot easier."
Harper turned her head slowly, looked at her mother. The way her profile was all angles and detachment, like she was discussing stocks or seating charts — not the life growing inside her daughter.
"I want to keep the baby," Harper said.
The words landed like a brick dropped into a still pond. The ripple of them filled the car.
Victoria blinked.
Then blinked again.
Her head turned, slow and deliberate, until her eyes locked with Harper's. "What did you just say?"
Harper held her gaze. "I said I want to keep it. The baby."
Victoria stared at her like she was speaking another language. "You're fifteen."
"I know."
"You're going to ruin your life."
Harper's throat tightened, but she didn't look away. "Like I ruined yours?"
Victoria's lips parted, then closed. She looked out the window again, something flickering behind her eyes. "This isn't a dog, Harper," she said finally, voice thin and brittle. "You don't just get to decide that you’re going to keep it. You're still a child — you're not old enough to make that decision. God, imagine it, Harper Grace. Imagine what people would say? Your father's name—"
Harper swallowed, hard. "Dad would've understood. He would've hugged me. Told me he loved me. He might've been disappointed — but he wouldn't have treated me like you are right now."
Victoria's jaw tensed. Her fingers curled against her lap, white-knuckled. "You don't get to invoke him," she said, low and venomous. "Not when you've made a circus out of everything he built for you."
Tears burned the corners of Harper's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "I'm not trying to hurt you, mum," she whispered. "I'm just trying to do what feels right in my gut. For me. For Oscar. His dad—"
"Oh, wonderful," Victoria snapped. "The 'pit crew' is standing by." She made physical quotations around the words.
Harper flinched again. Looked down at her hands. "Please, Mum. Please don't shut me down like that. I'm scared, alright? I know that this was my fault, mine and Oscar's. But we've talked, okay? We've talked about it, about keeping it or not. And we — we both agree that it feels right to keep it."
Victoria was silent.
Then she sighed, the long, tired kind that Harper remembered from fittings and fundraisers and end-of-term reports that were anything but a 99 or above.
"I'm not shutting you down. I'm here, aren't I?" She bit out. "God knows why I even bothered. We could've done this over the phone."
Harper knew that was the closest thing to an "I love you" that she was going to get.
NEXT CHAPTER
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pseudowho · 9 months ago
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Deeper, Harder, Faster: Reader/Ino/Nanami
After a chat with the lovely @nanaslutt, I can with absolute delight say that they have given me their blessing to write this exquisite smut blurb in full.
Everyone say thank you @nanaslutt 🙇‍♀️ for allowing Haitch to go to town.
Based on this! post here. Please do go and like/reblog the original idea.
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Warnings: 18+, mentor/mentee relationship, threesome, PiV, anal, oral f!receiving
Here we go...
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Nanami Kento bristled with annoyance, as another doghouse sigh broke his fragile peace. Ino slumped on his arms, his cheek pressed against the table, looking like such a boy that Nanami couldn't help but enquire.
"What is it, Ino?"
"It's nothing, Nanami."
Nanami folded his book closed, huffing a little. "It's clearly not 'nothing'. I'm not one to pry, but--"
"It's my girlfriend, Nanami, I'm letting her down. She says 'go faster', or 'go deeper', or 'go harder' and she doesn't know what she's asking for, I don't want to hurt her--"
"Stop. Ino."
An awkward silence hung between Ino and Nanami for the former's fractious outburst, and the faintest blush smattered across Nanami's high cheekbones. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
"Well, that took...absolutely no insistence at all on my part, did it?" At Ino's groan, muffled as he pulled his balaclava down over his reddening face, Nanami cleared his throat again and continued. "While that was...altogether none of my business, I might hesitantly suggest that the young lady knows her own mind, Ino. If she is...dissatisfied with intimacy, have you considered doing as she asks?"
"I just think she's asking too much, y'know? I'll hurt her--"
"Have you a safe word?"
Ino hesitated, stuttering. "A-a...safe word?"
"Yes, a safeword. You've tried some different positions, I assume? Perhaps you've let her lead the way if she chooses? Responded to her cues?"
Nanami looked over his glasses with each recommendation, feeling grimmer and grimmer at Ino's continued vacant expression. Nanami hummed into his coffee, a cover-all sound of dismay, before a switch flicked on Ino's face.
"Could you show me?"
Nanami choked on his coffee, recovering with a cough, shocked by how eagerly his cock twitched against his thigh. Thoughts of watching you spread beneath Ino, pleasured by his own instruction, bloomed a sordid power fantasy he'd never known he had. He tried to look impassive, and not as eager as he felt.
"Show you?"
"Yeah, uh...I-I bet she wouldn't mind."
Nanami could blame the way that the blood rushed from his brain to his dick, as the reason for his easy agreement, but he'd be lying.
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Nanami was as taut as a bowstring, his suit-jacket discarded, in yours and Ino's bedroom. He was humid with the scent of your sex, shot through by your whimpers and gasps, as Ino fucked lazily against the bed with your clit in his mouth.
Nanami's fists clenched as your head rolled on the bed to look at him; the only outward sign that he was at all affected by your plush, parted lips, the way your breasts peaked, lonely and without attention, and the way your orgasm crept closer. And yet, it all meant naught when your pleasure was so two-dimensional.
"Deeper-- Takuma-- please--"
Though Ino was tonguing your wet little pussy to climax through mouth alone, you arched, frustrated, wanting more than just the first slim inch of Ino's fingers. Ino curled his fingertips barely past your entrance, featherlight, hardly past the first knuckle. Nanami suppressed a scowl.
Ino muffled something into your pussy as you came with a weak cry; an orgasm, yes, but not the one you had wanted. Not the one that would have you seeing God, and forgetting the days of the week. Your cunt and belly had, after all, been left utterly unfucked.
"See, baby? Nice and gentle..." Ino whispered against your thigh, pressing tender kisses to your folds, to your blushing, half-satisfied smile. "So good...so pretty--"
Nanami felt your frustration; despite having never been entered, he knew the unique deep, yanking climax of a hook behind one's navel, and suspected that you were fucking yourself better with toys than Ino was with his body.
Nanami squirmed, spreading his thighs to allow room for the heavy tenting of his lap, and tried to be unaffected by the way your head turned to him again, a thread of pleading in your eyes. Nanami was never one to deny a woman begging, and it tortured him even to pay witness to it, as a mentor.
All the worse, even Ino's cock was gentle, sliding into you as if you were made of glass. Nanami could have cried for the way Ino shook with the effort of holding back, despite your arching, despite the way you whispered to Ino, for him to move 'deeper' and 'harder' and 'faster'.
Watching the slow, supple roll of Ino's tight body into yours, and watching the way you had given up asking for more, Nanami's self-restraint snapped, his cool voice belying stormy waters.
"Listen to your girl, Ino. Do as she says."
Ino's hips stuttered, a flush on his cheeks as he threatened to come before he'd even taken you to the brink and back again.
"S-she's...she's okay, aren't you, babe?"
You blushed beneath Ino, lying as if you weren't scrutinised by sharp brown eyes; lying, as if your own eyes hadn't been begging for Nanami's intervention only moments before.
"Yeah, I...I'm fine, I--"
"Fine?" Nanami spat, on his feet now, and prowling around the end of the bed, examining Ino's slowly fucking hips from all angles.
"You're supposed to be pleasured until you can't remember your own name, and you're just fine?"
You blushed, called out, turning your head away as Ino's movements slowed to a halt, and he gazed down at you, breathless and uncertain.
"...babe?"
Nanami continued, growling, palming his aching cock against his zipper. His breath, his cologne, ghosted against Ino's flushed cheek.
"You're supposed to be making love to her, not treating her like a little glass doll. You're satisfied with her calling your cock 'fine'?"
Ino doubled down, foolishly. "I just don't wanna hurt her, I'm big and I--"
Nanami growled, his hand tangling into the back of Ino's hair to yank Ino's head backwards. Nanami's voice rang deep and dark and desperate; "She said deeper. She said harder. She said faster. Do you need to be forced?"
Ino's lip puckered up, almost tearful, defiant, as if he hadn't been the one who had asked his mentor for help. Nanami nodded, coming to a slow realisation, before firmly, affectionately, slapping Ino's cheek once, twice, three times.
"Ah...I see. Well, if that's the only way you'll learn..."
Ino watched with a squirm in his belly, as his mentor, thick-bodied and tall, paced over to the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube.
By the time Nanami had walked back round to observe the way that Ino's cock had completely stilled within you, he had unzipped himself and hooked his own aching cock and balls out.
Still in his tie, his shoes, his harness, fully dressed, Nanami hissed as he slid one lube-wettened fist down his twitching length, gritting his teeth, his eyes blackened over by something altogether more military. He cast his eyes over the pair of you once more, barely more than a pair of kids in your early twenties, fucking like amateurs.
It wasn't your fault, Nanami reasoned, masturbating himself as if his cock could possibly get any harder. And so, he threw his attention back to his mentee.
"What are you waiting for, Ino? Deeper. Harder. Faster."
Ino shuddered, every fine sinew across his sculpted shoulders twitching, as his hips picked up a fractured, barely increased pace. You arched again, sighing into the almost there thrusts into your core, whimpering with frustration when Ino chased his own hips backwards at your insistent arching.
In immediate response, Nanami's free hand slapped Ino hard across the ass, eliciting a yelp from Ino. A muffled giggle burst forth from you, before you clapped a hand over your mouth. It threatened to bubble over, as you swore you saw the hint of a laugh at the corner of Nanami's mouth. Instead he rumbled again, to Ino's mortified blushes.
"Deeper. Harder. Faster."
"I am, Nanami--"
"I don't see you having to hold her in place. I don't hear the headboard rattling. I don't hear a single fucking noise from her."
By the time another minute of Ino's shallow, pitiful thrusts had passed, Nanami had made up his mind. Ino felt another slap to his ass, yelping as Nanami chased him up the bed. You scooched up beneath him, and your heart stuttered to feel your boyfriend pressed down to your chest, with Nanami arching above him, mounting him.
"Am I going to have to show you, Ino?"
That voice; so much calmer than Nanami was, in truth, with precum dripping onto Ino's ass. Ino felt every hair on his body stand on end, swallowing thickly. He felt Nanami's cock, longer and thicker than his own, heavy against the small of his back.
"I...I..."
"Well?"
"I...o-okay. Y-yeah. Show me."
A satisfied grunt from behind Ino...and the wet pumping of a bottle of lube. Ino felt Nanami whisper at his ear, and a thick, insistent nudging at his entrance.
"Even with less prep than you gave your girl, you'll take me hard, and deep, and fast. If that's the only way to show you."
Ino felt Nanami's bulbous, slippery cock head fuck into his entrance with little warning, and Ino collapsed onto his forearms above you, his hips finally flush with yours as he was forced deeper into your pussy. Nanami swore, cursing and pushing himself even deeper in one swift movement, to bury his cock fully inside Ino.
Ino whimpered between you and Nanami, and you bit your lip, burying your fingers into Ino's hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
"...attaboy...show you what she needs, hmm? Fuck...so tight..."
Nanami appeared to be collecting himself above you both, panting and straining with the effort of giving Ino a moment to adjust. You threaded your other hand around Nanami's harness, your fingers tight against his chest, and he opened his eyes, heated. The hint of a smile was there again, and he looked into your eyes as he pulled almost completely out of Ino...before fucking into him again, immediately setting a ruthless pace.
You and Ino both crumpled as one, crushed beneath Nanami's overbearing force. The harsh drag and thrust of Nanami's cock in and out of Ino, moved Ino's hips for him. Ino's cock only hardened with Nanami's relentless pounding into his prostate, and you finally felt every single inch of Ino, forced into you to the hilt, finally giving you the belly-deep fullness you had craved for so long. Your guttural moan, and the way you dragged both Ino and Nanami closer by harness and hair, told Nanami he was finally hitting the mark.
"There you go...Ino...see?" Nanami panted, slamming himself into Ino's prone, twitching body. "Look at...at her now. Harder...deeper...faster. How does it feel...darling?"
"G-god-- o-oh my god-- so good so so good--augh--!"
The noises coming out of Ino were barely human, burned at both ends until his entire core was aflame. It took all of his strength simply to not crush you, and he found himself woefully out of control. He had only the vaguest, nebulous thought that his hips were being slammed into you with more force that he could ever generate himself...and you were crying his name in absolute bliss. Not begging him to stop. Not telling him it hurt. But, begging him for more, in desperate little babbles and whimpers.
Though Nanami's thrusts were brutal, they showed no sign of slowing. When he felt Ino's hole clenching around his cock, seeing the first signs of Ino's orgasm approaching, Nanami looped one thick forearm around Ino's neck, forcing Ino to arch up to him, and growling into Ino's ear.
"Not yet-- I don't think the lady's quite finished, is she? Don't be such a boy."
Ino sobbed into your neck, begging to be allowed completion, his voice wet against your skin as Nanami denied him his orgasm for the sake of your own. Ino's sloppy mumbling was barely coherent, combining with Nanami's fractious grunts and curses to give you the orgasm soundtrack of your dreams.
"--s'too much-- so f-full, sorry--s-sorry, I didn't...feels so good...m'gonna come-- babe--"
Reaching around Ino to you, and pulling back for just a moment, Nanami scooped your ass and thighs up into a harsh mating press, with Ino crushed between you both. With Nanami's enormous hands pushing your knees to your chest, and Ino's sobbing, forced fucking into you, you were reduced to divine whimpering, your pussy beginning to clench around Ino's twitching length.
The heavy pressure of Ino's weight forced against your clit and his belly-deep thrusts, sent you tumbling over the edge fast. Finally, your orgasm had teeth, and the cries that left you were hoarse with bliss.
Unable to look at Ino, with his tearstained face still buried in your neck, you instead cried your pleasure to Nanami, your eyes glossy, your face twisted as if in pain. Seeing the way his pupils dilated, and the way his hips stuttered, made you certain you were milking Nanami's cock, instead of your boyfriend's.
You heard Nanami's satisfied whispers guiding you through, feeling him admiring the way tears glittered on your lashes.
"--good girl...good girl, you knew...knew you could take it...clever girl..."
Ino followed you swiftly into oblivion, your plush fluttering walls dragging his orgasm as Nanami's cock against his prostate pushed it. Ino convulsed, a choking symphony of moans spilling over, unbidden. His legs kicked out against the bed, his hands clasping the sheets, while white-knuckled pleasure surged through him from head to toe.
You knew his seed would take time to trickle out of you tonight, so deeply seated was his ejaculation against your gulping cervix, that you wondered if any would make its way out of your cunt at all. Nanami was too far gone, husky, and still, somehow, chastising Ino through his pleasure.
"--listen...to your girl, and don't...don't come crying to me...if you can't satisfy her...don't deserve her if you don't listen to her...shit..."
Having done his duty, with commas of hair escaping over his forehead, Nanami buried himself to the hilt inside Ino and came with a hushed, broken roar. All the while that his teeth clenched, and his seed striped the inside of your boyfriend, you could have sworn that you felt the pulsing heat within you, instead.
Nanami groaned and murmured, his cock fucking slower, deeper, softer, his orgasm long and draining. You knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same again, knowing the voice of his pleasure.
Finally, Nanami stilled above Ino, groaning and giving Ino's hair one firm ruffle, before pulling out with a hiss. Nanami stood back on shaking legs, surveying the wreckage before him, sniffing and swiping one hand back through his hair.
Cleaning himself, Nanami nodded to you. Ino was too fucked-out and spent to even begin to communicate, and covered you like a weighted blanket, filled with Nanami's cum, while his own filled you.
"Any problems," Nanami toned, calm and collected once more, "come to me."
"Y-yeah." You panted, crushed beneath Ino's whimpering weight. "I'll... I'll take it...from here."
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celtrist · 9 months ago
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This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.
No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.
This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!
Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.
Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.
Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.
Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.
Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.
Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.
Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.
And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.
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