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finelinefae · 3 months ago

Text

trust [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi wants to try something new

word count: 7.9k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), shy reader, boyfriend!h, smut (soft smut like very gentle and loving), inexperienced y/n

this is part 4 of Bambi, read part 3 here

. . .

How do I shave down there without getting red, itchy bumps?

Follow these six simple steps to prepare for your first time!

How to suck dick 101

Y/N scrolled through a Reddit page at her desktop computer at work, the screen glowing softly in the dim office lighting. It was a page she had found after typing into Google, ‘how to prepare for your first time.’ Hundreds of subreddits appeared, each packed with questions and experiences Y/N hadn’t even considered until reading about them. She had fallen down the rabbit hole, finding a question and then getting lost in the responses.

Lostrabbit23: I lost my virginity at 15 and it was the worst experience of my life!!!! Lasted five minutes and the guy came before he even put his dick inside me, I swear.

Redberry5: Lost my virginity at 25 and it was a good experience. I’m glad I waited for the right person.

Whitedude32: Can’t understand how people can still be virgins past 18 tbh - just get it over with and live a little.

Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip, her eyes absorbing every word on the page. It seemed unnecessary, and she knew she was overthinking as she normally did, but… Y/N had a boyfriend now. A real boyfriend. And with every boyfriend, she knew what was expected.

The more she read, the more she realized how little she knew. A seed of doubt planted itself within her, growing with every scroll. What if Harry found out just how inexperienced she was? What if he didn’t think she looked pretty naked and ended up having second thoughts about being with her? The thought made her stomach twist in knots.

"Are you watching porn?" Lindsey sauntered over to Y/N's desk, balancing a stack of binders on her hip. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she frantically clicked off the incognito tab and opened a random Microsoft Word document.

"W-What?" Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "No! Of course not."

"Hmm," Lindsey placed the binders down with a soft thud and crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "Then why do you look like I just caught you red-handed? That’s not like you."

"I wasn’t doing anything," Y/N blurted, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just looking at today’s meeting notes."

Lindsey leaned in, peering over Y/N’s shoulder. "These notes are from three weeks ago."

Y/N’s eyes darted to the date at the top of the page. "I was catching up?" she added, her voice faltering.

Lindsey raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear on her face. "So, is this Reddit obsession new, or have you always had it?"

Y/N’s face burned hotter. "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lindsey gave her a pointed look, "You left your tabs open during lunch. Rookie mistake."

Y/N felt like dying, “I did?” She almost felt like crying, embarrassment washing over her entire body she could feel it burning, “I-I was just researching stuff,”

Lindsey’s expression softened slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. " What kind of 'stuff' are we talking about here?"

Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of her keyboard. "Just… things. You know, advice. Relationship stuff."

Lindsey’s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, relationship stuff? Now we're getting somewhere. Who’s the lucky man?”

Y/N and Harry were both sure that Lindsey already knew they were an item but they weren’t going to risk slipping their facade by bringing it up, “Just somebody.”

Lindsey looked knowingly, “Okay well are you planning on taking the next step with this just somebody?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. Whenever things got too intense with Harry, she had a habit of pulling away or steering the conversation elsewhere. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to share those moments with him—she did. But she needed to feel ready, to prepare herself for something so intimate.

“I... I think I want to,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes. Her voice trembled as she added, “I just... I just want to be good.”

Lindsey’s expression softened immediately. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, stepping forward to wrap Y/N in a warm hug. The gesture brought a lump to Y/N’s throat. In the weeks since she’d started her new job, Lindsey had become like the older sister she’d never had—someone she could trust completely.

Pulling back, Lindsey held Y/N’s shoulders firmly, her voice gentle but steady. “First of all, you never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Sex isn’t a performance, it’s personal. It’s about intimacy, connection, and trust. Whatever happens is between you and whoever you’re with, and that’s all that matters.

“Second,” she added with a small smile, “it’s not as complicated as people make it seem. Even if it’s awkward or messy at first, that’s okay. You’ll learn together. That’s one of the best parts of being with someone—discovering their little quirks, preferences, kinks and everything inbetween. Trust me, you’ll be fine. And if anyone ever makes you feel less than beautiful in the process? They’re not worth your time.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her chest. “Oh no, he’s perfect,” she confessed, her voice tinged with a dreamy sigh. “Better than that. He’s... everything.”

Lindsey chuckled, glancing at her watch. “Well, speaking of perfect, it’s time for us to take a well-deserved lunch break.”

“What?” Y/N blinked in surprise as Lindsey grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door.

Before she could protest further, Lindsey swung open the door to Harry’s office, revealing him seated at his desk in a perfectly pressed suit. Y/N hadn’t seen much of him that morning, and the sight of him made her heart flutter. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room and curl up in his lap.

Harry glanced up, his lips curving into a warm smile as soon as he spotted her.

“We’re taking an early lunch,” Lindsey declared.

Harry raised an eyebrow, checking the clock on his wall. “It’s 11:30. Lunch doesn’t start for another hour.”

Lindsey waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve been working so hard we deserve an extra break.”

Y/N snapped out of her daze just in time to nod in agreement, though the gesture only made Harry’s gaze soften further.

“Is that right, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “Mhm,” she mumbled. “We’ve been working very hard.”

Harry chuckled, his gaze flicking back to Lindsey. “Fine. An hour extra, but that’s it. If anyone asks, you’re running errands.”

Lindsey grinned. “Yes, boss. Oh, and we’ll need your credit card.”

Harry scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Worth a shot.” Lindsey shrugged, then headed for the door. Before leaving, she shot them a pointed look. “I’ll grab my coat. No funny business, you two. I’ll be waiting outside.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Harry stood, straightening his jacket before walking over to Y/N. He reached for her hand, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Harry,” she whispered, her breath catching as he leaned down to kiss her gently.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to go with Lindsey, you know. You could stay here and spend your lunch break with me.”

The suggestion was far too tempting, and Harry’s smile only made it harder to resist.

“She hasn’t even told me where we’re going,” Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rapid beat of her heart.

Harry reached down, tangling his fingers with hers. His touch was warm, grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Wherever she’s taking you, make sure you don’t overdo it, okay? We still have plans tonight, remember?”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. Harry had been teasing her about the surprise date all week. She was excited, but also nervous—especially after his cryptic text telling her to wear something she didn’t mind getting dirty.

Harry kissed her again, but their moment was cut short by a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry it up in there! Time’s ticking!” Lindsey’s muffled voice called through the door.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her, and Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile at the sound.

“Here,” he said, pulling his wallet from the inside pocket of his blazer. He slid out a gleaming gold AMEX card and pressed it into her hand.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “O-Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Bambi,” Harry interrupted, his tone firm but affectionate. The nickname made her heart skip. “Take it.”

His commanding presence was enough to make her stop arguing. She looked up at him, cheeks tinged pink, and nodded.

Y/N stared at the card in her hand like it might bite her. “But Harry,” she whispered, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “I don’t even know what to do with this. What if I lose it? What if I spend too much? What if—”

Harry chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Bambi, all you need to do is enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Her lips parted, and she blinked up at him, unsure what to say. “I’ll take good care of it,” she promised in a tiny voice, clutching the card. “And I’ll bring it right back. I promise I won’t spend too much!”

“I know you won’t,” he murmured, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “I trust you.”

Before she could overthink it any further, Harry leaned down and kissed her forehead again, lingering just long enough for her to feel the warmth of him. “Go have fun.”

Her heart did a nervous little flip at the reminder. “O-Okay,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lindsey’s voice interrupted again, sharp but teasing. “Alright, lovebirds, seriously! I’m giving you ten seconds before I come in there and drag her out myself!”

Y/N squeaked and turned to the door. “Coming!” she called, her voice high-pitched and rushed.

Harry smirked, clearly enjoying her flustered state. He stepped back and adjusted his tie, looking every bit the polished professional, but his eyes were still soft as they followed her.

“Be good,” he teased, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. “I’ll try,” she mumbled, giving him a quick, shy smile before hurrying out of the office.

Outside, Lindsey was waiting with her hands on her hips, an exaggeratedly impatient expression on her face.

“About time,” she said, grabbing Y/N’s hand and tugging her down the hallway. “Now, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into with that fancy credit card of his.”

Y/N let out a soft giggle, her fingers curling around the card in her hand. She glanced back toward Harry’s office door one last time, her heart still racing. Even though she was nervous about tonight, she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, too.

Lindsey noticed the dreamy look on Y/N’s face and rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Y/N looked away, pressing her lips together as a shy smile spread across her face. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Lindsey laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s make this lunch break worth it.”

. . .

Y/N stood in the small changing room, staring at the pile of delicate lingerie Lindsey had hung on the door hook. Each set was softer and more intricate than the last, made from lace, satin, and ribbons in pastel tones of blue, lavender, mint, and blush. She felt like a clumsy giant in a room of dainty, breakable things.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Y/N called softly through the door.

“You’ve got this,” Lindsey replied encouragingly. “Try the pink one first. It’s so you.”

With trembling hands, Y/N picked up the light blush pink set, the soft lace slipping between her fingers like a whisper. She changed quickly, careful not to look too long in the mirror, and hesitated before stepping out.

“Alright, let me see,” Lindsey said, her voice full of excitement.

Y/N cracked open the door and peeked out timidly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise. Now, come on!”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped out, crossing her arms over her chest shyly. The pastel pink lace hugged her figure, delicate straps tracing over her shoulders and down her back. Lindsey’s eyes lit up as she took in the sight.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Lindsey grinned. “It’s perfect! Very soft, very sweet. What do you think?”

Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror outside the stall, biting her lip. “I don’t know... It feels like... too much? Or maybe not enough?”

Lindsey shook her head, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “It’s not too much, and it’s definitely not too little. It’s elegant and adorable, just like you.”

Y/N flushed and retreated back into the stall to try the next set. The routine continued for several minutes, with Y/N emerging in pastel greens, blues, and creams. Finally, she reached for the last set—a soft taupe-pink shade, almost like the color of cocoa mixed with milk.

When she stepped out in this set, Lindsey gasped softly. “Oh my god.”

Y/N immediately crossed her arms again. “Is it bad? I knew it was too much—”

“No!” Lindsey interrupted, shaking her head vehemently. She stepped closer and took Y/N by the shoulders, turning her toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. You look like a little deer.”

Y/N blinked at her reflection, her brow furrowed. The taupe-pink color complimented her skin tone, and the simple but elegant design made her feel... grown-up, yet still herself.

“I... I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice shaky.

“Hey.” Lindsey crouched slightly to catch Y/N’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Stunning. And Harry is going to lose his shit when he sees you in this.”

Y/N’s cheeks flamed. “Lindsey!” she squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

Lindsey laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “What? It’s true! Now, I think we’ve found the winner. Let’s go pay before I start crying over how cute you look.”

Y/N nodded shyly, stealing one last glance at herself in the mirror. For the first time, she felt a spark of confidence in her chest. Maybe Harry would love it.

Or, at the very least, she loved it—and that felt just as important.

. . .

Y/N sat comfortably in the passenger seat of Harry’s Porsche, her old t-shirt soft against her skin and her blue jeans slightly worn at the knees. Her baby pink ballet flats rested lightly on the floor, toes tapping absentmindedly as she gazed out the window, trying to decipher where he was taking her.

Harry, effortlessly cozy in his sweater and loose-fitting jeans, kept one hand on the wheel while the other held hers over the console. His black Vans were slightly scuffed, white socks peeking above the edges. At every red light, he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against them as if it were second nature.

“Did y’have fun with Lindsey today?” he asked, sparing a glance in her direction.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Y-Yeah, it was… fun.” She tried not to think about the underwear she had bought earlier particularly because she was currently wearing it beneath her very casual clothing.

Harry’s lips quirked up in amusement. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“No, it was!” she insisted, sitting up a little straighter. “It was really nice. I don’t spend a lot of time with other girls, so it felt… different. In a good way.”

His smile softened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before returning his focus to the road. “Y’know you’re welcome to spend time with Sarah and Alessia too.”

“But they’re your friends,” Y/N frowned. “Wouldn’t you feel like I was taking them away?”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course not. What’s mine is yours, love. You’re my girlfriend, remember?”

Y/N’s lips twitched, a giddy warmth settling in her chest. She let her head fall back against the headrest, a slow smile curling on her lips.

“What?” Harry grinned, flicking his eyes toward her for a second.

“I just like it when you say that,” she admitted.

“What? Girlfriend?” he teased, his dimples appearing as he chuckled.

“Mhm,” she hummed, cheeks heating up. “I can’t believe I’m a girlfriend.”

Harry laughed, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “You’re not just a girlfriend, you’re my girlfriend. All mine.”

She liked that label even more.

Later on, the soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaled their arrival. Harry pulled into a small stone parking lot in front of what looked like a quaint, cottage-style home. The windows glowed warmly against the dusky sky, lace curtains fluttering slightly from the inside. There was no sign or indication of where they were, just an inviting little house with flower boxes lining the window sills.

Y/N glanced around, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Where are we?”

Harry smirked, already opening his door. “You’ll see.”

Curiosity buzzed in her stomach as she climbed out of the car, the crisp evening air wrapping around her. Harry met her at the front, slipping his hand into hers and leading her toward the wooden door.

Before she could ask any more questions, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman with wispy white hair pinned up in a loose bun. She wore a pastel apron dusted with flour and had a kind twinkle in her eye.

“Harry, darling!” she greeted, pulling him into a soft hug before turning to Y/N with an equally warm smile. “And you must be Y/N! Oh, you’re just as lovely as he said.”

Y/N’s brows shot up as she looked between Harry and the woman. “He’s mentioned me?”

“Oh, love, he wouldn’t stop talking about you,” she chuckled, stepping aside to usher them in. The scent of vanilla and butter filled the air, making Y/N’s mouth water. “Come in, come in, we’ve got cakes to decorate!”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly as she turned to Harry. “Really?”

Harry grinned, squeezing her hand. “Thought you’d like it.” Y/N let out a delighted squeal as she followed him inside.

The cozy kitchen looked straight out of a storybook—wooden shelves lined with jars of sugar and sprinkles, floral-printed tea towels hanging neatly by the stove, and a large wooden table in the center covered with piping bags, frosting tubs, and trays of undecorated cupcakes.

Y/N hesitated at the doorway, her fingers curling around Harry’s sleeve as she peeked inside. “I’ve always wanted to do a baking class,” she admitted, eyes wide with curiosity.

Harry turned to her with a grin. “I know,”

She furrowed her brows, “How did you find out?”

“You’re brothers told me,” He shrugged.

The elderly woman, who had introduced herself as Margaret, beamed at her. “Don’t worry if you’ve never done this before—I’ll show you everything!”

Y/N’s fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she stepped further into the cozy kitchen, taking in the warm scent of vanilla and sugar. She glanced at Harry, still feeling a little surprised that he had gone out of his way to plan something so thoughtful.

Margaret handed them each an apron, and Y/N hesitated before slipping hers over her head. As she struggled to tie the strings behind her back, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Here, Bambi,” Harry murmured, gently tugging the ends and tying them into a neat bow.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her apron. “Thank you…” she said softly, peeking up at him.

Harry just hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he reached for his own apron.

Margaret clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s get started! We’ve got a few cakes ready for decorating, and you two can pick whichever frosting colors you like.”

Y/N followed her to the counter, where bowls of pastel-colored buttercream sat beside trays of undecorated cakes. She hovered near the edge, unsure where to start.

Harry, on the other hand, grabbed a piping bag without hesitation. “I used to work at a bakery so don’t be surprised if my cake turns into a masterpiece,” he declared, scooping up a generous amount of frosting.

Y/N watched him for a moment, then turned back to her own cake. She carefully picked up a piping bag but hesitated before squeezing it. “What if I mess it up?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Margaret overheard and smiled warmly. “There’s no such thing, dear. It’s just cake. If it doesn’t turn out how you want, we’ll eat the evidence.”

Y/N let out a small giggle, feeling a little more at ease. She took a deep breath and pressed down on the piping bag, carefully swirling the frosting onto the cake. Her hands were a little shaky, but as she stepped back, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit proud.

Harry glanced over and tilted his head. “That’s cute,” he said, nodding toward her cake.

Y/N tucked her chin down, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, before turning back to his own. “Almost as good as mine,”

Y/N peeked at his cake and bit her lip to hold back a giggle. His frosting was uneven, the swirls lopsided. She glanced up at him, unsure if she should say anything.

He must have noticed because he smirked. “Go on, laugh.”

She shook her head quickly. “N-No! I—I think it’s lovely.”

Harry chuckled, nudging her lightly. “lovely, huh?”

Y/N felt her face heat up and quickly focused back on her cake, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Before she could react, Harry swiped a bit of icing onto his finger and gently smeared it across her cheek. She gasped, eyes widening in surprise as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk on his lips.

“I think you’re lovely,” he murmured.

Margaret smiled knowingly. “You two make a lovely pair,” she said as she reached for some sprinkles. “Now, who wants to add the finishing touches?”

Y/N reached for a jar of soft pink sugar pearls, her fingers barely brushing Harry’s as he reached for the same one.

He didn’t move his hand right away, just glanced at her with a small smile. “You take it,” he said softly, his pinkie finger poking her hand. Y/N ducked her head, feeling a flutter in her chest as she carefully took the jar.

With the finishing touches added—Harry’s cake looking as delightfully messy as ever, and Y/N’s decorated with delicate swirls and tiny pearls—they both stepped back, admiring their work.

Margaret beamed at them. “Wonderful, both of you! Now, how about some tea? You’ve earned it.”

Y/N nodded quickly, grateful for something to do other than stand there under Harry’s watchful gaze. She followed Margaret to a cozy table near the window, where a teapot and delicate china cups were already set up. The scent of chamomile and honey filled the air as Margaret poured them each a cup.

Harry stretched out beside Y/N, his long legs brushing hers beneath the table. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he wasn’t letting on.

As Y/N stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea, curiosity finally got the better of her. She glanced between Harry and Margaret before speaking up softly. “How do you two know each other?”

Margaret smiled as she set down the teapot. “Oh, I’m an old friend of Harry’s mum. We go way back.” She turned to Harry with a teasing glint in her eye. “She’s actually coming to visit next week for his birthday.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her teacup.

Birthday?

Her mind spun. Harry hadn’t mentioned his birthday. Not once. And now she had to meet his mum?

Oh. Oh no.

She must’ve gone silent for too long because Harry’s gaze flickered toward her, his brows furrowing slightly.

Then, under the table, she felt it—his hand, warm and steady, pressing gently against her thigh.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

He didn’t say anything, just gave her a knowing look—one that was both amused and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly over the fabric of her jeans, a silent gesture that somehow grounded her and made her even more flustered all at once.

“You alright, Bambi?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded quickly, even though her heart was racing.

Harry’s lips twitched, clearly not believing her. But, mercifully, he didn’t push. He just kept his hand where it was, a steady presence beneath the table.

Y/N took a sip of her tea, hoping it would hide the blush creeping up her neck.

She had two problems now: figuring out what to do for his birthday and somehow surviving meeting his mum without making a complete fool of herself.

And, judging by the knowing smirk on Harry’s lips, he was well aware of both.

. . .

“Thank you for having us,” Y/N said softly, offering Margaret a small smile as they stood by the door.

Margaret waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nonsense, dear. It was lovely having you both.” Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “You’re welcome to come back and do some baking with me anytime, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the offer. She glanced at Harry, who was watching the exchange with amusement, then back at Margaret. “Oh—I’d love to,” she said shyly.

Margaret patted her arm warmly before turning to Harry. “Take care, love. And don’t forget to call your mum.”

Harry groaned playfully. “You’ve been talking to her too much.”

Margaret only laughed, waving them off as they made their way to the car.

Once inside, Y/N fastened her seatbelt and turned to look at Harry, who was adjusting the mirrors. She hesitated for a moment before finally voicing the thoughts swirling in her head.

“You didn’t tell me your mom was coming to see you,” she said, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Or that it was your birthday.”

Harry shot her a side glance, lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t want to panic you.”

She frowned. “About your birthday?”

“I don’t like the attention,” he admitted simply.

That made her pause. She looked at him, watching the way his fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel.

Silence settled between them for a beat before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Are you mad?”

The question shocked her. Her brows knitted together. “No, of course not,” she said quickly. Then, softer, “Just… worried.”

Harry turned to her fully now, one arm draped over the steering wheel as he studied her. “Worried?”

“What if your mom doesn’t like me?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened. “I think she already does.”

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re all I talk about when I speak to her these days, Bambi,” he said, his voice warm, sure. “Believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”

A small huff left her lips as she sank deeper into her seat, still unsure if that made her feel better or worse.

“Bambiiiiii,” Harry drawled, his tone teasing. “Give me a kiss.”

She almost smiled, shaking her head as she turned toward him to say something—maybe to protest, maybe just to stall—but she never got the chance.

Before she could speak, Harry cupped her entire face in his hands, tilting her chin up as he kissed her.

Y/N melted instantly, her hands hesitating before resting lightly against his chest. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his lips moving against hers with a kind of lazy confidence that made her stomach flip.

He pulled back just enough for their noses to brush, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You taste like frosting,” he murmured against her mouth.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling slightly against his shirt.

Maybe she was still nervous about meeting his mom. Maybe she was still reeling from the fact that his birthday was next week. But right now, in this moment, all she could focus on was him.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand rested on her knee, “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back was quiet, comfortable. The occasional hum of a song on the radio filled the space between them, but neither of them felt the need to talk much. Harry’s hand rested casually on the gear shift, fingers drumming lightly, while Y/N watched the familiar streets pass by through the window.

Before she knew it, they were outside her house. Harry shifted into park and turned toward her with a small smile. “Home safe, Bambi.”

Y/N reached for the door handle but hesitated.

She didn’t want the night to end just yet.

Biting her lip, she turned to face him properly. “Do you… want to come inside?”

Harry blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling a little nervous under his gaze. “Yeah.”

His face softened into something warmer, more curious. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You sure?”

Y/N swallowed, then nodded again. “I just—” She exhaled, giving a small shrug. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”

Harry’s expression changed, something fond flickering in his green eyes before he reached over, fingers brushing her chin briefly.

“Then I won’t,” he murmured.

With that, he shut off the car and stepped out, rounding to meet her at the front steps.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered as she unlocked the door, fully aware of Harry standing just behind her. And as she pushed it open and stepped inside, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard him close the door behind them.

“Everyone’s asleep. We can go upstairs to my room,” she whispered, locking the front door behind them. Slipping off her shoes, she glanced back as Harry did the same, his movements quiet and easy.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his as she led him up the stairs. They tiptoed carefully past her brother’s rooms, the only sound the faint creak of the wooden steps beneath them.

Once inside, she gently shut the door and turned to find Harry standing in the middle of her room, his gaze slowly sweeping over the space.

It was strange seeing him there—so tall, so effortlessly cool—against the soft pink and white of her bedroom. He looked almost out of place, yet somehow, he didn’t.

His eyes landed on the mannequin in the corner, where a partially finished dress hung, delicate ruffles cascading down the fabric.

“Did you make this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he stepped closer, taking in the details.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. “Yeah… it’s taking a lot longer than I thought it would.”

Harry turned to her, something like awe flickering across his face. “Bambi,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “You should be working with the design team at Pleasing, not stuck behind a desk.”

Her eyes widened, heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, no, no,” she protested quickly, waving a hand. “The desk job is more than enough.”

Harry just hummed, still admiring the dress. “At least give it a think.”

Y/N blinked, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “Wait, are you offering?”

Harry turned to face her, already standing just a step away, the small space of her room almost too close. His lips curled into a teasing grin. “I don’t know… do you want me to?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could answer, Harry intertwined their fingers, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through her. He lowered his head, his lips ghosting over hers, just a breath away.

“I think you’re going to do such great things, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice soft but certain. “You don’t need me for that.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice melting the walls she had built up around herself. Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a soft urgency.

His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his touch grounding her as she stepped back, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of her bed. They both tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs, Y/N’s heart thudding loudly against her chest.

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging into her skin beneath her shirt, pulling her closer. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and her mind raced, completely overwhelmed by the closeness.

Her thoughts scattered, and she found herself whispering, almost breathless. “Y—you can take it off.”

Harry’s hands stilled, his brows furrowing in confusion. “My shirt, I mean.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as he processed what she’d said. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her heart in her throat, “I-I’m sure,” She replied.

Harry didn’t respond at first, his eyes scanning her face to make sure she truly meant what she said. His fingers tugged on the ends of her shirt and she nodded once more to let him know it was okay and what she wanted.

Harry lifted her shirt, his fingers grazing her skin as he pulled it over her head. The cool air prickled against her newly exposed skin, but the way his gaze darkened sent a different kind of heat through her.

"God," he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken, his eyes scanned the underwear she was wearing. He said nothing at first, Y/N’s nerves growing at his silence. Her first instinct was to put her shirt back on to cover herself up but his fingers wrapped around her wrist, “Are you real?”

Y/N giggled, “I think so,” she poked her tummy and Harry laughed.

“I must have been good at some point in time, I don’t think you’d be here if I weren’t.”

“You are good Harry,” Y/N murmurs.

“For you,” Harry whispers, “I’ll be anything. Anything y’ want, Bambi. I’ll bend and break myself to be whatever you want me to be. I’ve never been one for religion, but I’ve only ever prayed long and hard for someone like you, and now here you are. You’re like holding a piece of Heaven.”

Y/N's breath catches, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest. She reaches up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, tracing the lines of his jaw with a softness that matches her racing heart. "Harry..."

His eyes soften as they meet hers, the intensity never wavering, but there's something tender in his gaze now, something that says he's not just talking about desire, but something deeper, more profound.

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides before she reached for the hem of his shirt. He smirked, eyes locked onto hers as he helped her tug it over his head, his movements fluid, confident. Her eyes rounded at the tattoos that littered his muscular torso. Her hands hesitated over the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips making her pulse stutter.

"Go on," Harry urged, his voice low, teasing. "Touch me."

Her breath hitched, but she obeyed, palms trailing cautiously over his chest, feeling the steady, unshaken beat of his heart. Unlike her own, which was hammering in her ribs. She traced her fingers over a particular tattoo on his left pectoral.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she noticed the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the warmth of his body against hers making her pulse quicken. Harry’s eyes softened as he watched her, his lips curling into a smile.

"Relax, love," he murmured, cupping her chin and tilting her face up to his. "S’just me."

And then he kissed her again—deep, sure, in control. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she melted into him, letting him take the lead, letting him guide her through the intensity of it all.

They kissed for a while, Harry’s hands roaming over her skin, slowly learning the contours of her body as though he were memorizing each moment. Y/N melted into him, feeling the heat between them grow, her heart racing, pulse quickening under his touch.

Y/N pulled away for a brief second to catch his breath, his eyes were hazy, his lips were pinker than usual and lazy grin lingered on his lips. “What are y’ thinking about Bambi?”

She wondered how he could already read her so well. Her mind had been drifting the entire evening to this very moment, and now she was in it, her mouth dry and she couldn’t seem to conjure up the words. “H-Harry I-” The words were on the tip of her tongue, her mind drifting to a reddit article she read three days prior with tips on this exact situation.

Harry waited patiently for her to continue, letting her have her space to gain the confidence to ask whatever she needed to. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice, and he respected it, not rushing her, not pushing for anything.

She sighed, her words barely above a whisper, "I bought this bra today."

Harry nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "It’s very pretty, Bambi. So pretty on you." His lips brushed the side of her neck, a gentle, tender gesture meant to reassure her.

But Y/N could feel the weight of her own thoughts pressing on her chest. "B-but there’s a reason I bought it," she continued, her voice shaky.

Harry paused, his lips stilling against her skin as he pulled back slightly to look at her, his gaze full of warmth and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she gathered the courage to speak. "I... I want to try things with you."

Harry’s expression softened, the shock in his eyes mixing with a deeper understanding. He gave her a moment to continue, sensing that she wasn’t finished.

"I want you to do stuff with me." She felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away.

He stayed silent for a beat, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice calm but filled with concern. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for his, needing his touch to ground her. “I want to touch you.” She whispered in his ear, her cheeks scorching.

Harry choked, “Bambi,” He could feel himself hardening in his trousers.

She quickly continued, her voice a little shaky. “But y—you have to help me because… reading things online make it hard to understand, and those articles about… it’s confusing.”

Harry took her hands in his, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles as he looked into her eyes, his expression filled with warmth. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We’ll go slow. No pressure. I’ll help you, I promise. What is it you had in mind, Bambi?”

“I’m too embarrassed to say it out loud,” She admitted, breezing past the whole ‘pretending to be confident’ moment she had pictured in her head. “I feel embarrassed not knowing anything.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and Y/N wasn’t sure why it comforted her. He wasn’t showing sympathy, frustration, or excitement—his expression was unreadable, almost effortless. It was as if her uncertainty didn’t matter to him, as if knowing nothing made no difference at all. Being with her was enough, and whatever came with it was just a bonus.

“How about I’ll help you first,” He gently guided her onto his lap, his hands steady on her waist as he settled her against him. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice was soft, reassuring, but there was an edge of something deeper in his tone—something patient yet undeniably wanting.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she adjusted herself, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her. His hands, warm and firm, traced slow circles on her hips, grounding her. “You don’t have to rush,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “This is just us. You and me.”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she let herself relax against him. The feeling was new, overwhelming but not in a bad way. Safe. Warm. Intimate in a way she hadn’t expected.

Harry’s fingers trailed up her spine, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “Tell me what feels good, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N swallowed, her body tingling at his words. “O-okay,” she breathed, trusting him completely.

Y/N shuddered as Harry’s hands splayed on her thighs, his fingers playfully playing with the hook of her underwear that rested on her hips. His thumb made circles on her skin, goosebumps rising where he traced, ‘Is this okay?” He whispered, eyes looking into hers.

She nodded. His fingers sliding down further until they cupped her between her legs, “What about this?”

She gaped, “Yes Harry,”

“M’kay,” Warm breath fanned down her neck.

Beneath her, Y/N could feel Harry’s hardening length. Her eyes widened, her breath hitching as she shifted slightly, the sensation unfamiliar yet thrilling. Harry’s grip on her hips tightened just a fraction, his jaw clenching as he exhaled through his nose.

“You feel that, Bambi?” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

She nodded, her hands clutching his shoulders, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It’s… um, it’s big,” she admitted shyly, her cheeks burning.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“Completely,” Y/N whispered with a nod. Harry didn’t hesitate, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before his hand drifted lower.

With careful precision, he hooked his fingers around the fabric of her underwear, tugging it aside. She wondered if he could feel the razor bumps from where she had tried to shave. If he did he didn’t say anything, just whispered, “Y’ the most perfect girl. How are you real?” She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or himself.

The moment his fingers brushed past her folds, searching for her clit, she stiffened, a sharp inhale catching in her throat. Letting out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping his shoulders as a wave of unfamiliar yet intoxicating pleasure coursed through her. Harry watched her closely, his eyes dark with focus, making sure she was comfortable.

“Relax, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple as his fingers moved with deliberate care.

Y/N’s breath hitched as he found the sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch gentle yet firm. A soft whimper escaped her lips, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, seeking more.

“That’s it,” Harry murmured, his free hand stroking her thigh reassuringly. “You’re doing so good for me.”

She felt heat pool in her stomach, her body responding in ways she never imagined. “Harry,” she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice.

His lips curled into a smirk as he pressed a kiss just below her ear. “I’ve got you, love,” he promised, his fingers working her with steady, patient movements. “You’re truly quite perfect.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words, but then her brows furrowed as a thought crept into her mind—she wanted to do something for Harry, too. This wasn’t meant to be just about her.

But as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements, her thoughts blurred into nothingness. Her body responded instinctively, her hips rutting against his hand when he brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

Harry groaned, the sound deep and raw, sending a fresh wave of heat through her. The effect it had on her was instant—she wanted to hear it again. So she did it once more, rolling her hips into his touch.

“Y’ gonna kill me, Bambi,” he rasped, his grip on her tightening as he fought to keep control.

Harry let out a strained chuckle, his fingers tightening around her hips as he steadied her movements. His gaze was heavy-lidded, filled with something dark and reverent as he watched her.

“So damn sweet,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “All wide-eyed and trembling… just like a little deer.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her breath catching at his words. His comparison made her feel small, delicate—like something precious in his hands.

Harry’s breath grew heavier, his grip on her hips firm as he guided her movements, letting her find what felt good. Y/N was completely lost in the sensation—his fingers working her with precise, devastating strokes, his voice low and coaxing as he whispered sweet praises in her ear.

“That’s it, Bambi,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “Let yourself feel it.”

Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside her. She clung to him, fingers pulling on the curls at the nape of his neck, his head falling back as she rocked against his hand, chasing the high she had never quite reached before.

Harry was struggling himself, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged as her movements sent jolts of pleasure straight through him. He was achingly hard beneath her, the friction almost too much, especially when she rolled her hips just right.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers faltering for a moment before he doubled down, determined to push her over the edge first. “You feel so good, love—so perfect.”

His words sent her spiraling. A broken moan slipped past her lips as the tension inside her snapped, pleasure crashing over her in waves. Her body tensed, then melted, a shuddering mess in his arms as she came undone.

The sight of her—the way she trembled, the breathy whimpers falling from her lips—was Harry’s undoing. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he followed right after her, lost in his own release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the aftershocks of pleasure, their breaths mingling as they clung to each other. Y/N felt boneless, her head resting against his shoulder, her heart still hammering in her chest.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Harry,” Y/N confessed, her voice soft in the quiet light of her room. It was the most honest thing she had ever said, the most vulnerable she had ever allowed herself to be.

Harry’s eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe it was love, maybe it was more but she couldn’t quite figure out what meant more than love. Unless what she was feeling was exactly that- something more- because when she thought about loving Harry, the word seemed much too small. She wanted to be the same person, wanted to melt into his skin and never find where she ended and he began.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns on her back as he held her, grounding her in the moment. “Maybe it’s your first orgasm talking.” He chuckled and she playfully nudged him before laughing with him.

As her eyes fluttered shut, inhaling the scent of him—warm, familiar, safe, she heard him whisper, “I think I’m two steps ahead of you Bambi.” and her heart pounded against her chest.

Maybe love wasn’t a big enough word for what she felt, but whatever it was, it belonged to him. And she had a feeling it always would.

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saturnville · 1 year ago

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a night off, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black!wife (she) content: she encourages her husband to take a night off. warning: angst. minor disagreements. an: thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think! tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neeville

“Can you just relax, please?”

He was a self-proclaimed workaholic. Breaks did not exist in his world. Rest was just as foreign as a language different from his native one. If he wasn’t frequently working, he was unsatisfied with himself and his efforts. He refused to be seen as lazy or anything aside from a hard worker. He was a self-proclaimed workaholic who needed a night off. Just one.

“No, baby. I gotta get this done,” he mumbled, mindlessly pecking her cheek as she rose from her position on his lap in frustration. His laptop had more of his attention than his sanity did and it drove her mad. She glanced at the screen. Whatever he was working on had a deadline more than three months away. She’d be damned.

Despite his protests, she clicked “save” on the document, closed the computer, and tucked it under her arm along with his phone. There was no way she’d allow him to overwork himself, especially not during a trip that had been planned for the sole purpose of escaping the normal day-to-day responsibilities he had.

His grumbling was muffled and incoherent as she retreated further and further from the dining room where he was. She trekked up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. On the nightstand closest to her side of the bed, she placed his laptop and phone. Then, she made her way back downstairs.

Her husband wasn’t where she left him, rather sitting on the couch, arms crossed with a television show playing on the large platform television ahead of him. She rolled her eyes in amusement. He was unbelievable.

“You can’t have your way so you resort to this?” Her voice made his head whip around. His expression was blank.

“I mean yeah. You took my phone and computer. What else am I supposed to do?”

Her jaw ticked and anger began to bubble deep within her. He was unbelievable and she was ready to blow a gasket. “You’re supposed to relax, Lewis! That’s why we’re here. If you wanted to do the same regular-degular stuff, we could’ve done it at home. You complain about how we hardly have time together, but look! You’re in this overly-priced villa with a beautiful wife and you won’t even take the moment to relax with her. I could have stayed home if I knew you loved work more than you do me.”

Lewis stood from the couch at her comment. “That is not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” She snapped before turning on her heels to walk up the stairs. The slam of the bedroom door was the last thing he heard before he was met with utter silence. Sheesh.

The bath water scorched her skin just the way she liked. The suds surrounded her like a cape and she basked in the cover it provided. The speaker she brought from home played her favorite songs from Snoh Aalegra.

It had been over an hour since their last interaction and she needed time to herself before facing him again. She tried to understand her husband’s mindset and for the most part, she did, but she firmly believed in rest. And the fact that he refused to do so, especially after she planned an elaborate vacation for them, hurt her feelings. It made her wonder what about spending time with her was so repulsing that work took more of his attention than she did.

Sighing, she moved her arms in the water, preparing to dunk her head beneath the water until she heard the door peel open slowly. “Baby?” His voice was gentle, much different from the fierceness it held just an hour ago. She did not object, so the door opened wider and his body appeared.

He closed the door behind him to keep the humidity from escaping the room and leaned against the counter. His muscles flexed as he put his weight on his arms. She turned to meet his eyes, which were filled with regret. Her eyebrow quipped. “What’s up?” Her volume was slow and her tone was even.

“Room for another?”

She nodded. Lewis’s hands went to his outfit, a matching sweatsuit, which he plucked off piece by piece. She leaned forward to make room for his strong body, which was more comfortable than the porcelain tub. Her husband’s tattooed hands found themselves palming her body--his left hand around her growing belly and his right squeezing her breasts. As much as she tried to fight it, her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell against his shoulder. Lewis’ lips pressed against her temple firmly.

Silence surrounded them for many moments before he spoke up. “I didn’t mean to disregard you. I never want to be the reason why you feel ignored and unwanted. I’m not good at breaks and you know this, but it was no excuse. You put so much time into this and I blatantly ignored it--I’m sorry, beloved.”

She didn’t speak verbally, but the squeeze of his hand let him know she heard him. But, because she said nothing, he continued, “I’m all yours.”

“You promise?” She spoke quietly.

Lewis's lip pulled in the corner. They were okay.

“Am I too heavy?” She sounded unsure as she hovered over her husband’s muscular body. Her body had changed tremendously as she was carrying their child. Normally, she didn’t worry about it too much, but she had moments where her thoughts got the best of her. He found her beautiful in every state she was in, but even more so in the current one. She was carrying his child--how could he see any flaw within her?

Lewis shook his head against the pillow, “No, baby, never.” She squeaked out a quiet okay before finally putting her full weight on him, which made no difference to him.

In her hands, she poured a considerable amount of oil into her palms, rubbed her hands together, and caressed his soft skin. The sounds he released were music to her ears and had a soft smile spreading across her lips. “Feel okay?”

He groaned softly, “Feels amazing.” Silence, save for his sounds of approval, surrounded them. This was was he needed. The closeness, the intimacy, the love between a man and his caring wife during the hardest parts of his life. It was moments like these that he cherished deeply and would do so forever.

Almost thirty minutes passed before she complained of her body becoming sore. Lewis adjusted their position so her head was against the pillow and her legs were spread just enough to welcome his body. She smiled at him as she welcomed the kisses he planted on her neck and collarbone. “Thank you, baby. Let me return the favor…”

With that, his hands palmed her thighs and pushed them upward. Her eyes fluttered as she prepared for the best. His lips caressed her sensitive skin and she sighed softly, her fingers finding themselves in her hair. He melted into the embrace of her legs and soon the room filled with whispers that turned into loud cries that played on repeat even when it was all said and done.

They drifted off to sleep during the early hours of the morning, wrapped in the love of each other. With her bare body against his, she said, “See what happens when you take a night off?”

Lewis chuckled and poked her side. “Yeah, yeah. I love you…”

“I love you more.”

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #original content #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #Spotify #lewis hamilton x black female oc

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lemonisntreal · 6 months ago

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TONE DEAF :: Rosita and Norman <3

The first in a [hopefully] series of redesign + headcanon posts where I give you my take on a character for my AU

I'm grouping the two together because a] a lot of fluff headcanons I have, they share [because they're literally husband and wife]. And b] if I made an individual post for every single character, I... would go insane. So yeah. A bunch of characters are gonna get clumped together.

[FULL MASTERPOST HERE [yet to be made <3]]

HEADCANONS // BACKSTORY ⬇️

Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic [also autistic]

Both of them are the same age, mid to late thirties.

In terms of general intelligence: Rosita has gifted IQ, while Norman is at genius level.

I know. I know Norman seems kinda dim in the movies. But guys [LMAO]. "I know it looks like there's nothing happening behind those eyes, but...... he can make entire computers!"

He's so smart yet so stupid. He's that kind of character. Like he can do all of this super impressive shit, and is super talented and can do math like BOOM done, but he's also kinda a "deer-in-the-headlights" when it comes to life [I LOVE HIM 👹]

Both of them worked hard and have their college degrees almost completely paid off at this point because of the scholarships they earned.

Rosita has a degree in engineering, Norman's a computer scientist.

They're both in STEM, it's just that Rosita likes to handle more of the mechanical aspects of things while Norman's better with the technical stuff, which I think is cute af.

Yin and Yang <3

This dynamic is just how they are too. How they act. Like for example, Rosita can be very to-the-point-

She's very much a problem solver and will get right to it once she understands what she's doing. Like yeah, she often takes a very methodical approach to it [see the scene where she's got all the papers laid out to try and learn to dance- very new territory for her], but once she learns, she gos all in. And EATS.

Norman's gotta have a plan before doing anything, meanwhile. He has a morning routine that can't be interrupted or else his whole day and mood will be thrown off. He reads through a recipe twice before even starting. That kind of stuff.

He's a lot more hesitant to even try.

A lot of people find Norman boring. But Rosita is enraptured by every word he says, she LOVES his long spiels about hyper-specific [and often mundane] things.

AAAA--

Norman is also a closeted DORK. He ran a tabletop games club in highschool with a couple other of his geeky ass friends [he's still into D&D to this day and has introduced Rosita to the game too]

[she's fun to play with, but super competitive. This goes for ANY game, actually, not just D&D. She'll kinda accidentally turn everything into a "contest" due to her inability to not do her very best] [it's mostly inspirational, not annoying, if that makes sense?]

I also wanna say Norman was in a weird amount of drama that he didn't want to be in at this time. Like all of his friends had falling-outs, and he was just always caught in the middle of it.

He's afraid of confrontation [UNLESS IT'S FOR HIS WIFE] [HE STANDS UP FOR HER RAHHHH] [this is gonna happen when I get to rewriting Sing 2, he's NOT just gonna take Crystal calling his WIFE "mommy pig"]

They're sooo "excuse me, he asked for no pickles"

Norman and Rosita technically met in high school, in Junior year when Norman first moved to Calatonia.

WHICH, he and his family did this because this was a point in time where laws having to do with the rights of animals were VERY flimsy, and Calatonia was one of the first and only safe places at the time-- for Pigs especially, actually.

The 3 Little Pigs is deadass CANON TO SING. So Pigs were/are actually a marginalized species in this universe.

[[during the warring period that I have yet to really talk about, they were often victims of the anarchy and poaching, so stigmas and insults around them still exist to this day]]

[[[[see Jimmy Crystal]]]]

So anyway, they "met" in high school- Norman totally crushed on Rosita from afar whenever he'd catch her in volleyball matches-

Rosita had a major tomboy phase throughout high school, slowly falling out of it during college [still only saves dresses and skirts for special occasions really]

[[Fun fact, Rosita is also sapiosexual [attracted to intelligence] [Roxanne Ritchi ahh] ]]

[[Norman is bi]]

They actually got introduced to eachother and had a proper arc when they went to the same college [which might've been a college in Redshore actually? But I'm not 100% sure on that headcanon. It would line up since Rosita's "wanted to perform in Redshore since she was a little kid" and Redshore is obviously a massive city with a lot of notoriety. Idk though- and it's not really that important to the story anyways]

Norman and Rosita had plans together- they were gonna make it big and live freely. Things were looking up with the lawmakers, who were finally repealing a bunch of nasty stuff that was put in place during the war times. And the two had hope that their dreams could actually be accomplished.

Rosita, who was originally gonna play it safe and become an engineer, was now thinking about attempting to become a performer [which Norman has supported since the beginning, he LOVES her singing, and often tells her that she's "better than some of the people I've heard on TV!"]

But. Life got in the way...

Present day, Norman works in Redshore at Crystal Enterprises. He's the head of some sort of organizational team- not really working on what he loves at this point.

And this is because of their children, who were a very sudden appearance in their lives [which is why we see so much struggle in the chaos at the beginning of the movie in this AU]

Rosita stopped everything, and Norman grabbed the first high-ish paying job he could, spending all his spare time on clocking in overtime hours.

The kids are all adopted, and there's only 6 now: Oldest Caspar [13], twin boys Mickey and Moe [11], middle child Kelly [9], little bro Freddy[8], and Zoey the sweet baby sister [6].

They became foster parents after the death of Rosita's sister [this hc is kinda subject to change, but this is the story rn. I'll specify on this later ☝️]

So Rosita's kinda put her life on hold for these babies. She's such a great mom to them, and they love her and Norman so much

But some of the older kids [Caspar specifically] are kinda in a rough phase since they feel like she resents them [which she doesn't], or that she isn't their "real mom" [which she IS]

This is like an E plot in the story, but definitely's gonna get at least a little bit of focus.

Rosita and Norman's marriage is falling apart just a little bit due to burnout, but it'll get better <3 [I can't do anything tragic to these two they're too sweet]

Norman snuggles up to Rosita in his sleep. Rosita starfishes LMAO

They wake up entangled. This is normal.

"Pig piles" are also a thing- there have been several nights where all six children "had nightmares" and so the family of 8 all slept in the same bed.

Norman has the best bond with the two girls out of all the children. They immediately latched onto him to be their level-headed dad.

Rosita can carry two kids at once easily, and often "relocates" them like this :>

She's probably the strongest out of everyone in the troupe if you don't count the potential Meena has. She solos.

She's constantly taking notes on everyone and everything around her. At the theater, you'll catch her tidying stuff up she spots out of the corner of her vision while you're having a conversation with her [she's still listening]. She knows everyones favorite foods, and allergies, and their preferences in things, etc. She's the most attentive and considerate out of all of them [the mom]

She may have a touch of OCD.

She gives the best hugs.

Rosita is also a FANTASTIC cook [not even a headcanon, I'm pretty sure the entire fandom agrees on this one] and often bakes stuff for her sweet-toothed children [and husband]

This is actually how she initially connected with Caspar, who refused to eat or speak at first when they were all placed with Rosita.

Cinnamon rolls.

Kelly will only eat the frosting off the top, and has ruined an entire pan before by doing this.

Rosita actually isn't the biggest fan of chocolate, small detail.

Idk why she just strikes me as not being an enjoyer.

Loves vanilla though. People are furious when she answers "vanilla" with zero hesitation to the chocolate vs vanilla question.

Norman is kinda a hopeless romantic, or at least really enjoys the aesthetic of it [in a sweet and not shallow way ofc], and goes all out every Valentine's Day: balloons, flowers, the works. He's learned that Rosita prefers strawberries over a box of chocolates, however. Has a tradition of getting a fruit basket for her <3

They also have a tradition from all the way back in college, where they go out to eat at specifically the in-universe equivalent of Olive Garden [which was the fanciest thing they could afford at the time] and eat a shared giant plate of spaghetti.

Norman loves coffee. Insists he likes it black but actually prefers a good 50:50 ratio of creamer and coffee.

Norman is also ☝️ lactose intolerant LMAO

[[or would be, if traditional milk was widely accessible/a thing. I say "lactose intolerant" but what I really mean is he's allergic to most milk substitutes- like nuts and soy [gives him tummy ache, not anaphylaxis] ]]

God, parenthesis are carrying me so hard rn.

Stopping here because I'm tired, but I could go ON about these two omg-

Normita forever rahhhh <3

#why do they remind me of Skyler and Walter White here help me #they're like that + have moxxie and millie vibes?? except less troped if that makes sense 💀💀#no actually this is Normita nothing else #''sir this is a wendy's--''#Sing: Tone Deaf #rosita sing #norman sing #sing movie #sing 2 #sing 2016 #sing 2021 #character design #redisign #fanart #anthro #furry art #sketches #digital art #lemme know who y'all want me to elaborate on next actually #gayest straight people I've ever seen [norman is bi and rosita's at least a little bicurious]#DUDE THAT ACTUALLY REMINDS ME OF THE NORMOON CRACKSHIP I MADE LIKE YEARS AGO ACTUALLY #it was this stupid ass ship I made between Buster and Norman out of spite because I kept seeing Buster x Rosita LMAO #I DON'T EVEN HATE BUSTITA [conceptually at least]#I'm trying to find a way to summarize NorMoon but the words just aren't wording so if you want info lemme know i guess 😭#I am NOT elaborating on that in the FUCKING TAGS #NO #BYE!#GOODNIGHT!!

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81pastrys · 3 months ago

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College!AU

Part 2 / 7

Summary— They clearly could not care less about each other, but when Lando gets time with his friends something changes in his demeanor.

Warnings— They’re both bratty to each other

A/N— I’m feeling like this is leaning to an Oscar romance. Anyways 🤪

Series List

He’s only my roommate. I won’t see him everywhere, right? Wrong. He’s in most of my damn classes. The first class he was nearly late, walking in on the dot. The teacher was taking attendance and called his name already, so he had to tell him he was missed. “Lando Norris.” He responded coldly as if he wasn’t the one right on time.

He looked around and decided the best seat was next to me. I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair. “Out of all these seats.” I mumble to myself and he laughed. The teacher went on about class policies and introductions. I did mine and then it was his turn.

“Lando Norris, I like watching racing and gaming.” The prompt was your name then two hobbies. Great. Not only does he like watching racing, at full volume, but I’m sure he yells at his computer screen while playing. The class ends and I bolt out to my next class.

He didn’t sit next to me in all of them, just the one. He had friends to bother in the other handful we shared. Once I finished my classes I settled in the cozy coffee shop. I did all the introduction assignments and such. “Isn’t that your roommate?” I hear. I peek my head up and see Lando with a group of friends.

I roll my eyes and he just shrugs. They sit on the opposite side of the shop, I can hear fragments of their conversation. “She’s bitchy.” Lando said at some point. “Tried telling me to pick up my stuff on my side of the dorm.” He scoffed afterwards. One or two of the friends laughed with him but one stayed silent and noticed my gaze over at them.

“Well was your shit messy?” The friend asked, still holding eye contact with me before looking to Lando. “That would piss me off too.” His emotion stayed calm. I slightly smile and pack my things. He called me over before I could rush out the door.

“Yes?” I ask. He smirked and looked to his friends. The one from earlier flashing a smile as well. “Look I don’t care to be buddy-buddy.” I say, about to leave.

“Oh okay, well then I won’t ask you if it’s okay for them to come hang out in the dorm later.” He shoots back. I look to the guys and just nod my head. “They’re coming to hang out later.” He stated now.

“Okay, just stay off my side of the room. Maybe they can teach you how to clean.” I say and turn on my heels to leave. I hear his friends laughing. I return to the dorm and set my things down. I relax for the time I have alone.

It isn’t for another few hours until he returns, alone. The door clicks and I hear his bag hit the floor. “You in here?” He asked. His head appeared from the open wall. “Hey.” He said. He examined my room, something he hasn’t seen yet.

“Hi.” I say back, annoyed. He smiles and starts talking about how his friends are still coming. “Okay, would you like me to leave?” I ask, unsure of why he’s telling me again.

“No, I just feel like it’s something I should tell you about.” He admitted with a shrug. “I will clean my side of the room, just haven’t gotten to it yet.” Something about his demeanor sets off my internal alarms. We’re interrupted by a knock on the door. The same 3 guys come in.

“Dude I got a total fucking weirdo as my roommate.” One says. There’s laughter before another claims he was the roommate. I got up and grabbed a towel for a shower.

“Where’s your roommate?” The one that defended me earlier interrupted. Lando states I’m ’somewhere on my side’ before I turn on the shower and drown out the noise. I hear silence too loud for comfort. I ignore it and lock the door to the shower room.

Once I’m done I get out and wrap the towel around me. Why I didn’t grab clothes I have no clue. I’m now wrapped in a towel scrambling in my room for clothes. “Well fuck me.” I mumble. I didn’t organize my clothes right, it takes me a while to find my pajamas. Long enough that Lando needed something.

“Hey we’re going to-“ he started before seeing me in a towel standing over my dresser. I look at him annoyed. “Get food.. did you want anything?” His friends are intrigued by his pause and join him in my side of the room.

“What are you getting?” I ask, still rummaging through my drawers and not noticing I now have 4 guys looking into my side of the room. He says some restaurant and I give him an order. “I’ll pay you back.” I say turning and seeing the 4 men. My face heats up and they shuffle away while Lando just laughs.

“Sounds good, we’ll be back.” He smiled at me before I return to the bathroom and put on the clothes I found. I dry my hair and do my nightly routine.

They return with food and give me mine. “Thanks, sorry about earlier.” I say soft. I walk back to my side and set the food down on my desk. Oh how badly I want to scream into my pillow. I begin to eat before I hear Lando yell.

“Do you want to eat with us?” I get up and look into his side, they’re sitting on the floor together. I don’t respond when I go back to my side and grab my food and phone to join them.

“Ahhh she joins the group!” One of them says. I smile. He’s tan, very tan. He has dark brown eyes and a beautiful smile. His hair was one of a Disney prince. He also had a slight accent. “I’m Carlos.” He says.

The one next to him was smaller in comparison but not by much, he was hot too. “I’m Charles.” He greets. The last one to introduce himself is Oscar. I had two classes with him, one of which Lando wasn’t in. He was quiet, charming, and cute. Not hot, Carlos and Charles were hot, but Oscar was just cute. I introduce myself and sigh.

“What are you majoring in?” Oscar asked, making small talk. The atmosphere was calm, inviting, safe. I tell them I plan on going into marketing and my plans after college.

“Big city girl huh?” Lando says. We all laugh lightly. Once we finish dinner and small talk, I return to my side of the room and the three eventually leave for the night.

Maybe it can be a fight between Oscar and Lando on who gets the girl 🤔

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cainesrain · 14 days ago

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i need more writer!reader x serial killer!theo 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

im on my knees with my diary where i have planned out a murder mystery and it also has ideas on how to hide a body and erase evidence

i absolutely adore serial killer!theo. and i also absolutely adore this prompt as well. it's so so so interesting! i would love to write that murder mystery whenever you get done with it (and i wish you luck and good times writing it <3 i konw writing long stories is horriddd to do sometimes, but you can do it!)

maroon red journal | theodore nott

theodore nott | crack treated seriously | wc: 1775

summary: even more of writer!reader dating serial killer!theodore nott warnings: kinda references murder and torture, nothing really explicit more than that (if it helps, all the people theodore kills are evil evil death eaters so it's more so just vigilante shit); also reader knows about theo's hobby in this one and supports him completely (couple goals)

“My love,” Theodore called out to you from the kitchen, walking into your shared bedroom with a maroon red journal in his hands. “What is this?”

You looked up from your laptop to the journal that Theo was holding. “One of my writing journals?” you murmured confusedly—eyes glancing at the bookmark brand that you only used for your writing journals. There was also a color-coded system to them too, with lighter colors representing lighter topics.

“There’s quite a bit of research in here.” he murmured with a soft and quiet chuckle, sitting down on the bed with the closed journal in hand. “Are you positive that I’m the only killer here?”

You giggled softly and put your computer to the side, scooting closer to Theo as he flipped through the red notebook in his hand. Inside was a mix between words, diagrams—both printed and drawn—and random notes from different methods inside. There was a system of notes between getting rid of evidence as well, pictures of ways to dispose of bodies and rating each method. “It’s just a notebook.”

“You’re not—” he murmured quietly. “Do you want to kill people?”

You chuckled to him. “No, no I don’t.” you said, resting your head on his shoulder as he looked through the different methods. “I just need it for writing, that’s all.”

“You’re sure?” he asked you quietly.

“Yes, love.” You laughed and nodded again. “Why are you asking?”

Theo looked over at you with a small frown on his expression—gripping onto the notebook in his hands with an expression on his face you couldn’t quite read. “I don’t know, just something.”

“What’re you feeling?” you asked him.

He shrugged quietly. “I just feel like I might be corrupting you, I guess.” he murmured quietly, looking over at you and kissing your forehead. “I don’t want you to go down the path that I have. Even if the people I kill are bad people, it’s not—”

“You’re forgetting about the fact that I’ve written about this stuff before we met. Your actions are never going to be perfect, or even close to moral—” you chuckled quietly, kissing his cheek lovingly. “But I’ve got my own dark side as well.”

Theodore chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully. “I suppose.”

“I thought you would be impressed with my work.” you murmured with a soft pout, wrapping yourself around him. “Some of them are inspired by you.”

He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You know, the dissecting one?” you chuckled quietly to Theo, flipping to one of the more brutally drawn pages inside of the notebooks. “They’re inspired by you.”

He looked at you for a moment before chuckling—putting the notebook down on the bed before pulling you into a hug. “You’re—” he whispered quietly to you, his lips meeting with your neck and collarbone. “You are absolutely amazing. The best thing that's ever happened to me.”

You giggled softly as his lips tickled your skin, your arms wrapping around him. “You’re so silly.”

“And I love you.” he murmured quietly. He sat up just a bit straighter and looked into your eyes—eyes that were piercing and usually cold as ice melting the moment that they landed on you. “I love you.”

You smiled softly and leaned into a soft kiss. “I love you too.”

“How is your writing going?” he asked quietly, watching as you grabbed your laptop again and began to explain your new plot.

“It’s going great!” you smiled brightly. “The detective is finally putting together the clues—I’m adding a dramatic red string scene—and I think that he’s going to confuse the killer for a moment before eventually catching on. They’re reviewing a strangulation case right now though.” you explained.

“You spelt ‘strangled’ wrong there.” he chuckled quietly.

You gasped dramatically at that.

“Surprise!”

You looked up from the plastic and paper bags in your hand as you walked into the kitchen, heels clicking against the tile floor that you and Theo had redone just a couple of weeks ago. It was a beautiful red and white sequence that matched the aesthetic of a bistro that you two visited often—one that you found rather easy to write inside of. “Surprise?”

“Surprise.” Theo smiled brightly. His hands were holding up a bottle of red wine, two plates of steak and sides resting on the dining room table.

You raised an eyebrow curiously as you placed the bag down on the counter, taking off your scarf and placing it on the jacket rack. “Surprise for what?”

“I have a celebration to announce.” he chuckled to you, making jazz hands to the plates of food. “So I made some steak to celebrate.”

You smiled softly at that, taking his stolen jacket off to hang and walking to the dining table. “Well I’m glad that we’re celebrating whatever it is that we’re celebrating.” you chuckled lightly to him.

He poured you a glass of wine and poured himself a glass after, the two of you discussing your day from start to finish. You had gotten through most of your chores for the day—a small meeting with your publisher, an editing session with your friends, shopping for groceries, and some other small errands. Theo had mostly done some spring cleaning around the house, preparing the master bathroom’s shower for a retiling. He had finally found some dark green tiles that he loved, which he was preparing to put inside of the bathroom tomorrow.

“So—” you started calmly. “What are we celebrating again?”

Theo chuckled quietly at that, taking a sip of his wine as his eyes met yours over the rim. “I haven’t killed anyone in months,” he said to you.

You gasped out at that. “That’s great!” you smiled brightly, cheersing his glass.

“But I did plot six murders this month.” he murmured to you with a slightly deprecating chuckle, looking down at his mostly-finished steak with a sigh. “So maybe it’s not as impressive.”

You giggled softly at that—pushing your finished plate to the side and sifting through your purse to find a binder full of book pages. “Well I plotted seven.” you said to him, opening the binder and pushing the printed pages towards him. “Voilà!”

Theo chuckled as you both moved to sit on the dining table’s bench, reading through the manuscript together and correcting things where they didn’t make sense.

“Theo, where did you put my manuscript?” you called out.

Your manuscript’s due date was just a couple hours away from now—your editor calling for an emergency meeting to run through your manuscript based on a new date that your publisher had set in stone. Said manuscript had been missing for a couple of days now, something that you were only just now noticing as you tried to look for the binder.

Your feet eventually carried you over to your office, the state of it in a complete disarray with pages thrown across every single surface that one could find. Taped onto the wall, stacks upon stacks piling on your desk, with notepads and smushed papers thrown into trash bin after trash bin. On the top of every single stack was your manuscript, the binder lying peacefully on top of everything with a small sticky note laying down on top of the plastic cover.

You chuckled quietly as you flipped through the manuscript, looking through the notes that you knew would be inside each page.

‘Chapter 4: unrealistic disposal timeline.’ was something that you rolled your eyes at, knowing that the issue did not lie with the timeline as much as it laid with Theo’s ego. Your mind flashed through the conversation that had happened just a week ago, with Theo stating that he could finish the murder in half the time that the killer had.

He had failed to acknowledge this was the killer’s first time killing, but that was okay.

‘Chapter 7: love scene needs more tension.’ was something that caught your eye—your eyes running through the pages to figure out whether Theo was right or not. While the tension was well spaced out, there were places that could have a bit more impact to them. You highlighted those areas with a red pen.

‘Chapter 12: i don’t like luke.’ was something that you chuckled at, a soft scoff escaping your throat as you read that comment. Theo had never liked your character Luke, despite the fact you could never kill him off because of how important he was to the plot. At the end Theo had written a small note, a small address written at the bottom that you would be making your way over to after your meeting.

You made your way to the meeting after that—scarf wrapped around your neck as your editor ran through the manuscript with you. You had to hold back a chuckle as she read through the small notes that Theo had made, hiding your smile behind your hand as she looked up at you with a slightly concerned look.

“He’s just a true crime fanatic.” you smiled at her.

The two of you continued through the meeting a bit calmer after that—though you could tell that her eyes were resting on you rather seriously. The manuscript was edited rather thoroughly, most of it cleaned up except for the parts that you needed to fix for accuracy's sake.

Your feet carried you to the restaurant after you editor left to head back to the office, heels clicking on concrete and ceramic tile as you slowly made your way over to Theodore’s table. He had a bottle of wine in his hands, as he usually did, a bottle of red that the both of you quite enjoyed.

“You cleaned up my outline,” you said to him as you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug before sitting down across from him.

“And your fingerprints.” he said, pointing his fork at you. “I told you no touching.”

You rolled your eyes playfully before sighing, looking down at the menu in front of you. “You know that my editor is concerned?” you explained—leaning forward just a bit. “She thinks that you're a killer.”

Theo chuckled dryly at that. “How dare she.”

“You cleaned up my fingerprints?” you asked him curiously, eyes glancing over at his as he nibbled on the small fork in his hands. “That sounds oddly romantic.”

“Acts of service,” he shrugged simply.

You giggled at that, poking the hand that rested on the table. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you stop writing.” he said to you seriously—though the smile on his face told you that he was anything but. “I love your writing, you know that?”

“I know.” you smiled softly.

thank you so much for reading! again, i absolutely adored this prompt and had to immediately write something on it! i think that i'm going to continue this series still, it is genuinely so fun to write, if you want to read the first and second part, you can click here and here, and if you want more fluffy content as well, you can check out my main writing blog over here <3

#fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfics #fanfiction #drabble #slytherin #dead dove do not eat #crack treated seriously #crack fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott

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krisp-xyz · 2 years ago

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Was experimenting with halftone effects after watching this video and it almost has spiderverse vibes honestly. I actually learned some neat things about why printers use CMYK instead of just CMY so I thought I'd share !!

So in our optimal little computer space, Cyan (0,255,255), Magenta (255,0,255) and Yellow (255,255,0) all multiplied together gives us a perfect black (0,0,0) Awesome! The issue is that ink colors irl arent exactly perfect like this, and color is a bit more complicated irl compared to how computers represent it, so they aren't the greatest at combining into black if they aren't those perfect CMY values:

Left: CMY

Right: CMYK

(thats not even black, its a dark blue in the original image but dark colors just look so much richer)

An important step to make sure you arent doubling up on the black values though is to divide the image by it's own "value" (the max of all 3 color channels) that way the value is equal to 1 everywhere, and you're letting the black ink take care of the value on its own.

Left: CMY (normalized value)

Middle: K (black)

Right: Combined

Now obviously the grids of dots cant be aligned perfectly with each other because you'd just get a bunch of black dots in unwanted areas, but if the grids are misaligned, then some dots become more prominent than others which tints the whole image. This was an issue because older printing methods didn't have great accuracy and these grids were often misaligned.

The solution was to rotate these grids such that they can move around freely while getting rid of that tint effect if they aren't perfectly aligned :D

(I have no idea how they came up with these angles but that might be something to look into in the future who knows)

SPEAKING OF MISALIGNMENT

I wanted to implement that in my own filter to get some cool effects, and I discovered another reason CMYK is better than CMY for lots of stuff !!

With CMY, you're relying on the combination of 3 color channels to make the color black. This means if you have thin lines or just details in general, misalignment can make those details very fuzzy. Since CMYK uses a single color of ink to handle value, it reduces color fringing and improves clarity a lot even if you have the exact same misalignment as CMY!

Left: CMY

Right: You guessed it! CMYK

(yes these comparisons have the exact same color misalignment, the only difference is using a fourth ink color for black)

ANYWAY I just thought there was a lot of cool information in this tiny little day project, I also just think it looks really neat and wanted to share what I learned :3c

EDITING BECAUSE THERE'S ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO ADD

So, I talked about how to get K in addition to CMY instead of just CMY, but how exactly do you separate CMY from an image in the first place?

Well, CMY is a subtractive color space, meaning the "absence of color" is white, compared to RGB where it's black. This makes sense because ofc ink is printed on white paper. You can use dot product to get the "similarity" between two vectors, and this can be used to separate RGB actually! Using the dot product of a color and red (255,0,0) will give you just the red values of the image. This is cool though because if we get the dot product of our image and the color cyan (0,255,255), we can get the cyan values from our image too! If we first divide our colors by their value to separate the value from them, then separate CMY using those dot product values, and using K for our final black color value, our individual color passes end up looking like this:

While it's called a "subtractive" color space, I find it more intuitive to treat white as the absence of color here, and then multiply all these passes together. It makes it much easier to understand how the colors are combined imo. Notice how cyan is the opposite of red: (255,0,0) vs (0,255,255) and magenta and yellow are the opposites of green and blue respectively! This means you can actually kinda get away with separating the RGB values and just inverting some stuff to optimize this, but this example is much more intuitive and readable so I won't go too deep into that. THANKS FOR READING I know it's a very long post but I hope people find it interesting! I try my best to explain things in a clear and concise way :3

oh thank you I realized I should probably add an eyestrain tag

#halftone #shaders #long post #eyestrain

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shaiyasstuff · 1 month ago

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hiii, I love your writings so so much and every time I open the app I hope to see a new post of yours <3 usually I don't ask for stuff because I know writing is difficult and demanding, I write for myself sometimes just for fun and it takes a lot of brain working that I do not have lmao but if you do something similar to what I'm craving for I would be really really happy!

Basically I'm just a big nerd woman, I love anime and video games the most, it's the joy of my life besides doing art, and recently I've been thinking of my past bcs my birthday is in 8 days and reminding how bullying was a thing for girls like me (I'm over it now I'm almost 26 lol but some scars are permanent) and I would love to know how you vision the lads man enjoying/inserting themselves in their partner world of likings, maybe thrilled with how much knowledge you have about it all? bcs again, I'm reeeally into it and I love knowing/reading everything lol lore obsessed for sure (if possible something with valorant/league of legends/star rail if you know some of them but it can be anything seriously, and please nanami from jujutsu kaisen especially for zayne because they are my husbands 4 life and I love them the most ><) also I love your pfp, frieren is AMAZING!!!

Anyways, thank you very much for sharing your hardwork and beautiful mind, you're amazing and I hope you never stop writing what is in your heart <3 love you

SKSKSK ANOTHER FRIEREN FAN!! Hot take: Frieren deserves AOTY i dont care what others say XD Thank you so much for requesting this!! This was so much fun to write and honestly so so so so cute! I giggled a little too much imagining our boys just being with us (not mc, US, the real us)

So here is your request written below!! Do tell me if it’s not satisfactory >.< (I don’t play Star Rail so I did some research, if it isn’t accurate pls dont kill me) @goddamn-it-girl

Sylus

Sylus never really got video games.

“Why waste time in virtual battlefields when the real world demands strategy?” he’d say with a dismissive wave of his hand, like he was too good for flashy pixels and keyboard tapping.

But then one night, you’re in your usual spot, headset on, deep in a League match. You mutter under your breath, almost without thinking—

“God, I wish Sylus was more like Kayn’s Shadow Assassin form.”

And just like that, he’s behind you.

No warning. No hello.

Just standing there, arms crossed, eyes glued to your screen.

He doesn’t say much at first. Just watches.

“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully as your fingers fly across the keyboard—Q, Q, D—blink forward, another kill.

“It doesn’t seem that hard.”

Next week, you walk into the room after a long day—bag dropped, shoes kicked off—only to find him hunched at your desk.

Your computer’s on. He’s wearing your headset.

You watch, amused, as he furiously taps keys with a strange kind of intensity. His brows are furrowed.

And then you catch his champion.

You cross your arms, smirking.

“I cannot believe you got jealous over a video game character.”

Sylus scoffs, not even turning away from the screen.

“I wasn’t jealous. I’m learning to jungle. That way I can protect your lane.”

You laugh, falling into your spot beside him like it’s second nature now.

Because you know that’s not really why.

He just likes the way your eyes light up when you win.

Rafayel

Rafayel shares your love for video games.

He gets your obsession with Star Rail.

He’s the type to sit right next to you as you ramble about lore for the hundredth time, nodding along like it’s the most important story he’s ever heard.

“I’m telling you, Natasha is literally the coolest—like, hands down.”

“Hm. No,” he says, already smiling. “Himeko’s the coolest.”

Cue the dramatic banter.

You clutch your chest like you’ve been wounded. “How dare you.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

So you fake a cry, full-on pout and teary eyes.

He sighs dramatically, hands in the air. “Okay! Okay! Natasha’s the coolest! The best! The queen!”

You flash him a smug smile. Victory.

Then, one afternoon, you finish cooking lunch—something warm, something he usually comes running for the second it hits the air.

But today? Nothing.

Frowning, you head to the bedroom.

The door creaks open and—

There he is, slouched over the study table, completely zoned in. His brows are drawn together, pencil in hand, the quiet scratch of graphite filling the room.

“What are you doing?” you ask, curious.

He jumps like he’s been caught red-handed and slams the sketchbook shut, hugging it to his chest.

“Nothing!” he says way too fast, flashing you that boyish grin. “Is lunch ready?”

You laugh, shaking your head, and motion him to follow.

But back in the room, the sketchbook still sits on the table, forgotten in his rush.

One page left open—just enough for you to see it.

A carefully drawn sketch of you, soft and radiant, dressed as Natasha.

Of course he thinks she’s the coolest.

She looks a lot like the person he loves.

Xavier

Xavier would be insanely good at Valorant.

He saw you play once. Literally once.

And the next weekend?

There’s suddenly a whole PC setup right next to yours—dual monitors, custom keycaps, matching chairs.

He’s ready.

You blink at the setup, suspicious.

“What is this?”

“I figured we could grind to Immortal together,” he says like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

And he means it.

The first time you watch him play, you’re slack-jawed.

“How are you so good at this?”

He just shrugs, smug. “I’ve got good hand-eye coordination.”

Cheeky bastard.

But he’s not just good at the game—he’s good at being with you.

He’ll pull you into his lap on the couch after a long match, your legs draped over his, your hands gesturing wildly as you talk about Omega Earth lore like it’s gospel.

And he’s right there, nodding along with genuine interest.

He treats your passions like art.

When you draw your Reyna and Gekko ship, he’ll lean in over your shoulder, voice soft.

“You know what would be cool? What if Agent 7 wasn’t Reyna’s little sister, but actually the real founder of Valorant?”

You pause.

“You can’t just—drop lore like that—”

“Oh, and did you know if you wallbang that corner on Lotus with a Sheriff—”

“That makes so much sense!” you gasp, and then immediately groan. “No wonder I’m hard stuck Gold.”

He just grins. Because he doesn’t just drop into your world for the weekend—

He builds a home in it. Right beside you.

Zayne

Zayne wouldn’t just support your love for anime—he’d understand it.

He’d see the depth in it the same way you do.

You’d spend nights curled up on the couch, Jujutsu Kaisen playing on loop, your eyes wide and shining with every fight scene, every emotional beat.

He’s right beside you, always—arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm as he watches with quiet attention.

He’d chuckle softly whenever you’d throw yourself back dramatically, clutching your chest and declaring, “I can’t do this,” after every tragic death.

He’d never mock it—he’d just pull you closer.

Then one night, he wakes up to an empty bed.

It takes him seconds to notice your absence—your warmth, the subtle weight of your presence.

He pads into the living room quietly, finding you exactly where he expected.

Curled up on the couch, legs drawn to your chest, your face softly lit by the glow of your phone screen.

You’re scrolling through endless fanart of Nanami—

Nanami glowing with cursed energy.

Nanami, suit wrinkled, tie loose.

Nanami, unwavering, standing tall even as the world tries to break him.

Zayne doesn’t say a word.

Just walks over and gently lifts you into his arms, settling you onto his lap like you belong there.

Let’s be honest, you do.

You hesitate, then murmur, almost shyly, “He reminds me of you.”

Your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt.

“Not just the suit thing. It’s the way you carry yourself. How you protect the people you love. Even when it costs you.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then nods.

“I see myself in him too.”

You giggle, already scrolling to show him more—

“Wait, look at this one. And this one. And oh my god this—”

He just smiles. Soft. Reverent.

Because he doesn’t just tolerate your love for anime—

He sees the soul of it reflected in you.

And maybe, just maybe, in him too.

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kallie-den · 2 months ago

Text

Shared Interests

Brittany snoops on her nerdy, perverted, slobbish little sister’s computer in a hunt for dirt - but thanks to a strange computer program, the two of them suddenly end up with a shared interest in hopeless masturbation

Last year my patrons voted for something truly perverted, and I was happy to indulge!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

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“Hey, dork! I told you to keep out of my stuff! Did you take my-“

Brittany’s rage died in her throat as she busted open the door to her little sister Kess’s room and saw that Kess wasn’t there to evade her accusations with sidelong glances, stammered protests, and telltale filthy giggles. That was weird—Kess barely ever left her room, and Brittany was sure she wasn’t anywhere else in the apartment. Which meant she was out, and Kess almost literally never went out.

Brittany’s sister was a complete and total shut-in.

It was one of many reasons living with her was completely and totally exhausting. Brittany hated that their mom had insisted on the two of them living together when they went away to college. It was completely unfair! At twenty-one, why was she still stuck looking after her baby sister?

It would have been one thing if Kess had been cool, like Brittany. Brittany was cool enough and hot enough that, from her very first week in college, she’d been welcomed with open arms into the very top rung of college society. She went to sorority parties, she had her pick of boyfriends from the college’s football team, and now that she was in her third year, she was surrounded by a gaggle of other girls who hung on her every word. Brittany Simmons: Queen Bee.

But she couldn’t invite anybody over because if she did, she’d have to explain Kess.

And there was so much to explain. In the grand hierarchy of college life, Kess wouldn’t even qualify for the bottom rung. She didn’t even attend. Not really, anyway. She did her classes online, handed in her assignments online, and socialized online—and only, it seemed, with other losers just as gross as her. It didn’t make any sense to Brittany; why be a college student if all you were going to do was stay in and wear t-shirts and track pants?

Of course, she didn’t care about Kess wasting her own time. If Kess wanted to let college slip through her fingers, that was her business.

No. Brittany cared because of all the problems Kess gave her.

“Let’s see…” Brittany murmured. “Gotta be around here somewhere.”

Picking out anything in particular from amongst all the clothes strewn on Kess’s floor was a struggle, but after a few minutes of searching, Brittany was able to find what she’d come here looking for: a pair of her gym shorts that had gone missing lately.

It was almost funny. Some of Brittany’s fellow sorority girls complained about their little sisters stealing their stuff to wear. Brittany would have been over the moon if all Kess wanted to do with her clothes was wear them. She had no confirmation of what, exactly, her little sister did use her clothes for, but the fact that she only stole dirty items felt like one hell of a giveaway.

Disgusting. They were sisters, for Christ’s sake.

“Gross,” Brittany groaned. Everything about Kess’s room was gross. She took a whiff of the air; the whole place stank of sweat. “Time to get the hell out of here.”

She turned to leave—and then she noticed that Kess’s computer was still running.

A slow grin crept across Brittany’s features. Finally. The opening she’d been looking for.

Normally, Kess guarded her PC with her life. It contained the only thing Kess seemed to truly value—and if Brittany was right, a few minutes was all she’d need to be rid of her annoying pervert of a sister for good. Their mom had a frustrating inability to see any of Kess’s many, glaring flaws for what they were. Whenever Brittany complained about her and begged to be allowed to live with someone else, she dismissed her issues with Kess as nothing more than sisterly misunderstandings. Brittany needed proof, and she was certain proof was waiting right there on Kess’s hard drive.

In Kess’s one and only treasure. Her porn collection.

Brittany knew she had one. She just knew. The way she constantly took up all the bandwidth on their internet connection with nondescript ‘downloads’ was one clue. The other was the constant noise from her porn videos bleeding through the walls and into Brittany’s room at all hours of the night.

That was by far the biggest reason Brittany couldn’t invite friends and boyfriends over.

Kess’s constant masturbation had just one silver lining: it let Brittany know that she was into some seriously gross stuff. Given their apartment’s thin walls and Kess’s apparent inability to just wear headphones like a normal human being, she couldn’t help but pick up on it. A bunch of it seemed to be themed around hypnotism, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Brittany—it wasn’t real, obviously, and wasn’t it way too cheesy to be hot? Another big chunk was, uncomfortably enough, incest-related. Brittany had shuddered upon hearing a particularly loud moan of ‘sis!’ more times than she could count.

And then there were all of Kess’s vids that went on about ‘gooning’. Whatever the hell that was.

Obviously, Brittany got no pleasure from knowing all about Kess’s weird fetishes. Just the opposite, in fact. But the good part was that if she could show some of that stuff to their mom, she might finally be convinced that something needed to be done about Kess. Or at least that Brittany shouldn’t have to be subjected to her all the time.

“OK, loser,” Brittany smirked, as she sat down at Kess’s desk. “Show me your worst.”

Poking around, she quickly found obscene quantities of porn, but nothing that was truly damning. Kess’s computer was just as messy as her room. Pics, videos, and folders were placed haphazardly across all four of her monitors—seriously, why did she need four?—and no system of organization Brittany could discern pointed her to anything she could use as evidence or blackmail material.

Until she saw it. Right in the middle of Kess’s main monitor, staring her in the face and practically begging to be clicked on.

JACKPOT.exe

Brittany grinned. This had to be it. Anything a pervert of Kess’s caliber would consider a jackpot was sure to be exactly what she was looking for. The worst of the worst. True freak material.

Certain her victory was at hand, Brittany planted the cursor on the icon and opened it up.

At once, she was blinded.

She was so stunned, it took Brittany a long moment to figure out what, exactly, had even happened. Once her eyes finally adjusted to the garish light being blasted straight into her face, she realized it was a whole bunch of bright, spinning spirals, one on each of Kess’s monitors. All took on different colors and patterns, and none were particularly impressive. They looked like the kind of cheap gifs that any cursory Google search might turn up. Was this really Kess’s jackpot? Was this the kind of thing she got off to? What a freak.

It was already beginning to hurt Brittany’s eyes, and so instinctively she made to pull away and close them. But she didn’t move. A moment later, and Brittany realized she couldn’t move.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the spirals.

“What the…” Brittany half-laughed to herself. “T-this is… weird? You must be… joking.”

The way her own voice sounded distant and dreamy all of a sudden was immediately disquieting. It seemed impossible, but Brittany couldn’t quite bring herself to reject the obvious thought: this was hypnosis, wasn’t it?

That was dumb. That was ridiculous! Hypnosis wasn’t real.

And yet…

Brittany made another effort to peel her gaze away from the spirals, but as she summoned her strength, she became conscious of how much of it already drained away. Against her will, her eyelids simply refused to close. It wasn’t that her eyes were locked on a single spot; rather, whenever Brittany managed to flick her eyes away from the center of one of the spirals, the remaining three were waiting right there to snatch away her focus, and seeing all of them in the shrinking corners of her vision left her too disoriented to muster herself properly.

The result was maddening; a sensory overload of hypnotic imagery that left Brittany’s head throbbing and her body going slack. She was a prisoner of the spirals. Even her usual resting bitch face was starting to slip away, replaced with an expression of drunk, awestruck captivation that Brittany was irritated to know Kess would have gotten a kick out of.

Then, the spirals began to change.

At first, Brittany thought she was imagining the brief flashes of light that appeared on the screens at rapid, irregular intervals. But as each one pricked at her, leaving her distracted and disoriented, she realized that they were real—and then, as her eyes adjusted to the constant flickering, she realized they weren’t just flashes of light. They were flashes of images.

No. Not just images. Flashes of porn.

As soon as she realized what she was looking at, Brittany found herself overwhelmed by the never-ending tide of obscene imagery being pumped into her eyeballs. Her first instinct was to recoil from it, disgusted, but the hypnotic spirals denied her even that, leaving her to do nothing but watch helplessly as it all washed over her.

Tits. Asses. Hips. Thighs. Cunts. Cocks. Armpits. Sweat. Drool. Spit. Cum. Thrusting. Pumping. Grinding. Humping. Pounding. Fucking. A cacophony of bodies, slamming into each other over and over again, or displaying themselves in poses that pushed the boundaries of eroticism and possibility further and further. After a few minutes, the barrage of pornography completely shattered Brittany’s sense of judgment. She stopped being angry at the porn, or disgusted, or irritated, or confused, or anything else.

She simply accepted it.

The spirals wouldn’t let her do anything else.

But eventually, inevitably, her body started reacting.

At least, Brittany tried to tell herself it was inevitable. With what few thoughts remained to her, she tried desperately to convince herself that the heat in her body and the itching need between her legs was nothing more than a natural, physiological reaction to seeing all these images of nudity and sex. Anyone would start feeling the way she did, even if—like her—they were a straight girl looking at porn consisting entirely of women. It wasn’t because she was actually enjoying this. It wasn’t because she had any of the same proclivities as Kess.

And it certainly wasn’t because of the words being pumped into her ears. Right?

You want porn.

You need porn.

You love porn.

You crave porn.

Once Brittany noticed the voice, she realized she wasn’t sure when, exactly, it had begun. At some point, audio had started accompanying the flashes of porn she was being shown and, like a frog in boiling water, she’d failed to notice. At first, she was pretty sure, it had been snippets from the porn itself. Moaning. Pleading. The wet, sticky sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Then, there had been music—low, pumping, a little cheesy, as most porn music tended to be, but somehow melodic too, and deeply, deeply, relaxing.

Embedded within the music, there was a voice. Brittany could feel it reaching into her head and planting its words amongst her thoughts, there to grow like invasive weeds.

You’re obsessed with porn.

You love watching porn.

Porn makes you feel good.

Porn turns you on.

Brittany could feel it, but she couldn’t fight it. She was still being lulled into a trance by the spirals, and bombarded with obscene imagery that was only growing more and more distracting. The over-stimulation was too much. She couldn’t get a handle on any of the suggestions being poured into her ears. She tried, in vain, to fend them off; to apprehend each one, to refute it clearly, to put it aside, then brace herself for the next.

But it was useless. Her thoughts broke apart, dashed against the rocks with each flicker and flash porn, and in the resulting confusion, Brittany found herself unable to help accepting the very suggestions she was trying to keep from infecting her.

Obsessed with porn? No, of course not! She just liked porn.

Of course she did. Porn turned her on. Porn made her feel good.

No, wait.

That wasn’t right. Or was it? Didn’t everyone feel that way? Everyone looked at porn, right?

Yeah. Brittany loved watching porn. She needed it.

Maybe she was just a little bit obsessed.

And with that one thought, all the remaining components of her psyche fell like dominoes.

Brittany was obsessed with porn.

Brittany loved watching porn.

Porn made Brittany feel good.

Porn turned Brittany on.

With that new thought pattern seeping into the foundations of her mind, Brittany found it so much harder to fight what was happening to her. The process was far less distressing now. It aroused no resentment. No will to resist.

After all, she was just being shown porn, right?

And Brittany loved porn. Fuck, she really loved porn.

Her disgust now converted into fervent appreciation, Brittany was struggling to find reasons to push back against any part of what was happening to her. Sure, it was a little weird that she was being hypnotized, but could she really be angry? It was, she reasoned, a bit like being forced to sit down and watch her favorite movie. Was she truly being forced, in the end? And yes, it was strange that she’d stumbled across something like this on her sister’s computer, but it was difficult to think about that when she was distracted by the way her hard feelings toward Kess were beginning to soften.

Kess was gross. She was creepy and annoying, and Brittany wished she’d keep her masturbatory habits under tighter wraps so Brittany didn’t have to deal with them. But… could she really blame her? If Kess was guilty of anything, wasn’t it simply over-enthusiasm for her hobby?

And besides—she had good taste.

If Brittany had been free to look anywhere but at the screens and free to do anything but stare straight ahead, slack-jawed and drooling, she might have rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully. Over-enthusiastic kid sisters got on everybody’s nerves, right?

There was still part of Brittany that could sense how deeply, awfully wrong her twisting thoughts were becoming. No, it wasn’t like that at all! Kess was doing something to her. She had to be. Everything about the situation she’d found herself in was deeply, completely fucked up. But…

But Brittany loved porn. She was obsessed with porn. Porn made her feel good. Porn turned her on. All that was making the experience way, way too distracting for her anger and fear to crystallize into anything real. And all the while, the spirals kept turning and turning, glorious porn kept blaring into her eyeballs, and more suggestions kept worming their way into Brittany’s open, pliable mind.

You want to touch yourself to porn.

You need to touch yourself to porn.

You love to touch yourself to porn.

An ingrained sense of dignity and restraint tried to tell her otherwise—but in a mere moment, it was overwhelmed. Brittany was already too far gone. She was obsessed with porn, so it was only natural that she loved touching herself to it. What else did people do with porn? It was strange; Brittany could really remember ever using porn to get off much. She’d never had a reason to. But now, all of a sudden, she was certain it was one of her very favorite things.

She felt that certainty as an itch. As something kinetic and urgent, filling her limbs with energy and driving them into motion. But not to escape. Not to free herself. Just to raise her hand and, inch by inch, bring it across her thighs and toward her cunt while the suggestions became more and more insistent.

Touch yourself to porn.

Touch yourself for porn.

Always touch yourself looking at porn.

The itch doubled, and with that became all but irresistible. Brittany couldn’t keep her hand still. The words being pumped into her ears were truly becoming her own thoughts. A violent demand repeated over and over again, inside her head and out of it, redoubling moment after moment.

Brittany needed to touch herself to porn. Fuck. She needed to touch herself right now.

But she couldn’t, could she? After all, she was sitting in her little sister’s room, at her little sister’s desk. Kess could come home and walk in on her at any moment. Brittany couldn’t even begin to imagine how deathly embarrassing that would be. It was unthinkable. There was simply no way.

And yet…

The itch. Brittany needed to touch herself. To porn. For porn.

She was obsessed with it.

Part of her was still fighting to tell her that this was wrong. That she didn’t truly feel any of this. Brittany’s memories completely contradicted everything she was being told, and dwelling on them brought forth a sense of anxious dissonance that she tried to cling to in order to fight back against the brainwashing. She never looked at porn! She’d never needed to! She’d always had boyfriends or hookups. Hadn’t she always thought porn was gross? She wasn’t some porn-obsessed loser like Kess.

All of that now seemed so distant.

And in the end, it didn’t matter. The spirals and porn on the screens before her didn’t care, and their hypnotic pull was far, far too great to resist.

You’re desperate to touch yourself to porn.

You can’t resist touching yourself to porn.

Touching yourself to porn is more important than anything.

As if in anticipation of her resistance, those suggestions started repeating themselves over and over, pounding themselves into Brittany’s weak, vulnerable mind. The constant onslaught of spirals and porn was only further eroding her resistance. Each flash, each glimpse of throbbing, heaving, sweaty bodies, each long moment of feeling her brain drained into a spiral—all of them left her weaker and weaker, and allowed the brainwashing to steadily reshape her personality and her priorities.

Brittany was desperate. She was so desperate. She couldn’t contain her sheer, abject desperation as her hand began to unbutton her jeans and slip down the front of her panties. It was undeniable. She was so desperate, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She couldn’t resist touching herself to porn.

The idea was still completely mortifying. Brittany hated thinking about it. She hated what she was about to do. It’s just that her inhibitions were no longer enough to hold her back. Her need and desperation were too great. She was their slave, and her willpower was steadily draining away to nothing. She couldn’t resist. Not for a moment longer.

Because touching herself to porn was more important than anything.

That quickly sunk in and embedded itself in Brittany’s psyche. With it, her shame abated. It simply no longer mattered to her. A dull smile spread across her face. What was she so worried about? Who cares if Kess walked in on her? This was more important.

Now that there was nothing holding her back, Brittany pushed her hand all the way into her panties and started rubbing her fingertips against her greedy, dripping cunt.

Her loud, lewd moans sounded just like the ones coming from the porn flashing on the screens in front of her.

Which was unbelievably hot. The fact that she sounded so much like porn was driving Brittany wild. She loved porn. She was obsessed with it. And the verbal suggestions coming from the speakers were quick to reinforce her pleasure.

Touching yourself to porn feels good.

Touching yourself to porn is perfect.

Touching yourself to porn is all you need.

Nothing feels better than touching yourself to porn.

Brittany nodded in eager agreement as she rubbed her pussy. There was no longer any part of her that wanted to resist, or that was capable of it. It was simply obvious; nothing felt better than this. Than touching herself to porn. And the pleasure, rising from her throat in thick, wet moans, made her all the more susceptible.

You want to look at porn all day.

You want to touch yourself to porn all day.

You want to let porn run your life.

You want to ruin yourself with porn.

Again, Brittany just nodded stupidly, gleefully committing herself to her new, humiliating fixation, with a dumb, wide, pleasure-stained grin on her face and copious loops of drool dribbling down her chin. To her hypnotized, bliss-broken mind, it was all true. She wanted to look at and touch herself to porn all day. How could she not? It felt so good. Better than anything else. She wanted to let porn run her life.

And if that would ruin her? Brittany would embrace it.

Touching herself to porn was all she needed.

You need more porn.

You need filthier porn.

You crave nasty fetish porn.

You always need more porn.

In synch with the shifting suggestions, the kinds of porn being shown to Brittany in glimpses and flashed amongst the spirals began to shift too. Instead of vanilla, familiar snippets of naked bodies and passionate but conventional couplings, an entire world of kinks and fetishes appeared on Kess’s monitors—and immediately started to blossom in Brittany’s imagination. Outfits and costumes. Bondage and choking. Feet and armpits. And besides those, countless other fetishes, ranging from the taboo to the bizarre.

Brittany touched herself to all of them. She finger-fucked her cunt impatiently; pace quickening, moans filling the air as she soaked her clothes with sweat and wetness in her desperate drive toward orgasm. None of the fetish porn she was now masturbating to gave her pause. In fact, the only gripe she had was that it wasn’t enough.

She always needed more porn.

Fortunately, Kess’s entire collection was right here to provide. All Brittany’s plans to mine it for ammunition against her little sister were long forgotten. The only thing she now cared about was using it to get off.

Touch yourself to porn all day.

Touch yourself to porn for hours.

Touch yourself to porn over and over again.

Touching yourself to porn is the only thing you care about.

Rewire your brain by touching yourself to porn.

Brittany just nodded and grunted impatiently. She no longer needed to be told. Porn was the only thing she cared about. She wanted it to rewire her. To ruin her. She no longer wanted to spare a thought for anything else. Kess could be coming home at any moment. Brittany had made plans with her college friends in just a couple of hours. She didn’t care. She already knew that, no matter what, she was going to stay sitting right there, touching herself to Kess’s porn.

Nothing could have made her happier.

For hours and hours, as Kess’s hypnosis regimen ran its course, then looped over and over again from the start, the only movement in Brittany’s little sister’s bedroom was the rhythmic motion of the formerly proud, dignified, restrained, and thoroughly normal college girl’s hand rubbing up and down against her dripping, throbbing, needy cunt.

***

By the time Kess finally came home, so many hours had passed that the sky was dark outside and Brittany’s plans with her friends had long since come and gone. Her body ached from hours of unending masturbation, and her eyes were bloodshot from so long spent staring at the four monitors in front of her.

Brittany didn’t care. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t resist. She needed to keep touching herself to porn.

The hypnotic aspects of the program playing out on Kess’s computer had abated hours ago. They had done their work. Brittany was thoroughly conditioned with her newfound obsession with porn. She no longer needed the spirals to keep her rooted to the spot. She stayed sitting at Kess’s desk willingly, because of the constant deluge of amazing, filthy, twisted fetish porn she was being shown.

It was all she cared about. She was obsessed with it. Nothing was more important to Brittany than porn. And so, when she heard the door open behind her, followed by the sound of Kess’s approaching footsteps, she didn’t stop touching herself. She didn’t even take her eyes off the screen.

“Oh my god,” came Kess’s distinctly nerdy, nasally, stammering voice. “I c-can’t believe it actually worked.”

Brittany felt herself grow hot with shame and anger as the realization hit. She was furious at Kess, and mortified at being seen—but that wasn’t more important than porn.

“You…” she panted, fingers still plunging in and out of her cunt. “This… y-you set me up?”

Kess let out a dirty, nervous giggle. “You’re always b-busting into my room. Knew you’d take a peak sometime. So I decided to set a trap.”

Brittany’s eyes widened. “You… brainwashed me.”

“Yeah.” Another dirty giggle. “Isn’t it hot?”

Brittany shivered rapturously. For a brief moment, she willed herself to disagree. She forced herself to try to fix in her head all the many, many reasons why what Kess had done to her was an unbelievably disgusting and unforgivable violation of her personal boundaries and autonomy.

It didn’t work. In no more than an instant, it had all slipped away.

Kess was right. It was so hot. All the hypnosis porn she’d been touching herself to for hours now had completely rewritten her brain. Her new fetish was all-consuming, and her new set of priorities ensured that it effortlessly outweighed all other concerns.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Brittany whined.

Her hand quickened again, bringing forth moans with her every breath. She couldn’t believe how hot it was. It was like Brittany was living out a work of porn. She couldn’t believe her luck.

"You’re really hot too,” Kess said. She was standing directly behind Brittany now, and her voice was filled with unmistakable lechery. “I’ve always w-wanted to see you like this, sis.”

The unwholesome note in her voice should have made Brittany recoil. Instead, it just made her shiver. She was trapped in a fever of arousal.

“You… always?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Kess confirmed. Another nervous, dirty laugh. “You’re so pretty. I’ve a-always wanted us to be closer, you know. But you’re amazing, and I’m j-just a pervert.” She giggled again. “So I h-had to bring you down to my level.”

“Down to your level…” Brittany echoed faintly. She couldn’t help but find that hot, too.

“Uh-huh.” Brittany could hear the grin in Kess’s voice. Her little sister was overjoyed. “And now we f-finally have a shared interest. Something we can do together.”

She swiftly pulled over a spare chair and sat down in it, beside Brittany. Brittany could finally see her out of the corner of her eye. Usually, the sisters looked nothing alike. Brittany was tall, blonde, shapely, and pretty, while Kess was a mousy, shrunken, unkempt brunette. Now, though, the looks of lurid, feverish hedonism on their faces made them appear two of a kind.

“Here, sis,” Kess panted. “Let me h-help.”

Brittany froze when Kess reached over and touched her hand to Brittany’s thigh.

“That…” Brittany spluttered, fighting desperately to avoid the eager heat rising within her. “Kess, this… this is wrong.”

It was. It was against every taboo she’d ever been taught. Brittany should have been disgusted by the very suggestion. But she’d spent the past four hours pumping her head—among other things—incest porn, and the resulting urges effortlessly drowned Brittany’s better judgment.

It was just as she’d always known. She couldn’t resist porn.

“Do you want me to s-stop?” Kess asked, her fingers reaching closer and closer to Brittany’s cunt.

There was only one answer.

“No,” Brittany whined. “Please…”

When Kess’s fingertips reached her pussy, Brittany moaned like never before. It wasn’t just her sister’s touch. It wasn’t even the taboo. No; Brittany was swept up in rapturous awe by the very manner of her corruption. She was doing this because of porn. Because porn had made her find it hot.

She was letting porn run her life.

“Fuck,” Kess panted. “H-here. Do me.”

Using her free hand, she shucked out of her ugly, dirty sweatpants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. That was just like her. Gross. But Brittany didn’t hesitate. She reached across and pushed two of her fingertips into her little sister’s pussy. Kess’s greedy moans soon joined Brittany’s as the two of them masturbated each other.

“Y-yeah,” Kess laughed. “Fuck. That’s right. Just like that. I t-think we’re gonna spend a lot of time like this, sis.”

Brittany just nodded. She couldn’t dream of wanting anything else.

“You have…” she panted, “so much porn.”

It was still blaring on the screens in front of her, all four at once, cycling between videos, images, animations.

“Uh-huh.” Kess was grinning proudly. “Terabytes and terabytes.”

Brittany’s whole body throbbed at the thought of all of that time, money, and effort—all given over to porn.

“T-that’s so cool,” she found herself saying pathetically.

And she meant it. For as long as she could remember, Brittany had found Kess’s porn habits as unfathomable as they were disgusting. Now, though, as she spoke to her little sister, the barest hint of awe was creeping into her voice.

“T-thanks, sis.” Kess was practically glowing with happiness. “Can’t wait to show you.”

Brittany nodded, eyes widening. All that porn. She couldn’t wait.

“No more going to school,” Kess moaned. She was touching herself faster and faster. “No more hanging out with your friends.”

“Yes,” Brittany panted eagerly.

“No more going out late,” Kess continued. It was perfectly clear that she was turned on by the thought of Brittany’s downfall—and so was Brittany herself. “No more boyfriends. No more being cool and popular.”

“Yes.” Brittany could see it now, in her mind’s eye. Her entire life, sliding into ruin. Until she had none of the things she’d always been so proud of. Her status. Her popularity. Her fashion. Until she was a gross, gooner nerd just like Kess. “Yes, yes, y-yes!”

It was driving her so crazy, she was starting to see white.

“J-just you and me, sis,” Kess moaned. “Just like this. Looking at porn. All day. Every day.”

“F-f-fuck!” Brittany cried.

“Cum.” Kess told her, licking her lips. “Break your brain for porn. Break your brain for me.”

“Fuck!”

Brittany didn’t care if anyone in the neighboring apartments heard her scream as a huge orgasm, far greater than the ones she’d been giving herself all day, tore through her and obliterated all that remained of her dignity and decency. Kess’s expert fingers helped drive it on and on, higher and higher, until all that was left of cool, popular Brittany was a mewling, moaning, sweat-drenched mess whose head was full of nothing but the most sordid, debased, porn-induced fantasies.

Just as both of them wanted.

“Hey, s-sis,” Kess said, once Brittany started to come around. “You’ve been at this for a while, huh? M-maybe we should take a break? Get some food?”

Brittany looked at her and considered it for a moment—and then shook her head. “No way, sis,” she said, grinning, as she turned her attention back to Kess’s monitors. “I could keep going for hours!”

It was all she cared about. More important than food. More important than school. More important than sleep.

Porn ran her life.

Kess simply laughed. “Knew you’d say that,” she replied. She started touching Brittany again, and Brittany obligingly started touching her. “G-good news. We’re about to hit the really good stuff.”

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ihaznoclue · 2 months ago

Note

*Slides in a slip*

'May I request Donnie, aka my favourite turtle maybe that him and Reader is hanging out in the lab, enjoying the peace and quiet while the Reader does homework and Donnie does his science stuff?'

Please and Thank you!

Pairings -> Donatello/Donnie x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Donnie and you are just hanging out in the lair, doing your own things as you do your homework

Genre -> Fluff

DONATELLO

The soft hum of the lab’s machinery was the only sound that filled the air, featured by the occasional clinks of tools or the soft scribble of a pen on paper

Donnie's eyes were fixed just on the complicated assignment in front of him as he sat at his workbench among a variety of devices, cables, and incomplete projects

At the table next to him you were sitting, your textbooks spread out in front of you as you tried to focus on your homework

It wasn’t the easiest task, especially with Donnie's constant tinkering, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the atmosphere of the lab

The peace, the quiet and the way everything felt so natural with Donnie by your side

You glanced at him and he smiled softly while adjusting something

There was something about these moments, the ones where the two of you could simply exist in the same space without needing to speak every second, that made the world feel just a little bit better

“You know,” you spoke up, your voice breaking the silence

"You’re making this look way too easy.. How do you do it?”

Donnie didn’t even look up from his work, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile

“Science is never ‘easy' It’s just… important. Once you understand the principles behind it, everything becomes easier.. The trick is to never stop experimenting”

You nodded, even though you didn’t fully understand the science part, but you were okay with that

You had the feeling that if you ever needed to know, Donnie would explain it in a way that made it sound more simple

The quiet returned and for a moment, the only sounds were the low beeping of Donnie’s computer and your occasional sigh as you worked through equations and formulas for your maths assessment that will be coming up in a few days

Despite how different the two of you were, him with his genius intelligence, and you with your focus on your studies

You both seemed to fit here in the lab together

There was a comfort in the shared silence, the mutual respect and the sense of peace that came with simply being in each other's company

“So...” you said after a while glancing up at Donnie

“How’s that project of yours going? The one you’ve been obsessing over for the past week?”

He glanced up, his glasses reflecting the soft lab lights, his face showing just the slightest hint of pride

“It’s almost finished.. Just a few final things to do and it’ll be ready for testing"

You smiled, glad to see him so focused in his work

It was rare that he was this calm and this focused

Usually his mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, hopping from one idea to the next

But right now, in this moment, everything seemed to slow down

It was nice

“Well, don’t blow anything up” you teased.

Donnie’s smile grew a little more

“I never blow anything up" He paused, his voice dropping to a secretive tone

“On purpose.."

You laughed, shaking your head and turned your attention back to your homework

The world outside of the lab didn’t matter

Here in this space with Donnie, you were exactly where you needed to be

-A<3

#bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello #bayverse donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016

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poisonouspastels · 6 days ago

Text

Some ppl wanted me to go on my rambles about Murder Drones world building stuff, so here you go. Decided to start off by combining two of the Disassembly Drone topics I think about a lot. Sorry if there's any typos, I compiled this in SAI lol Transcript under the cut for those who can't read the images

Disassembly Drones & YOU! aka @poisonouspastels' overanalysis and scattered rambling on characters in a webseries So how many disassembly drones are left anyways?

This is a topic that facinates me a lot, actually! In the series we of course only ever predominantly focus on 3 of them, being N, V, and J, but we are made aware of the existence of plenty of other disassembly drones, many of which outright sharing designs with fellow worker drones seen in the manor. In Cabin Fever Labs alone we see at least 17 corpses, potentially more, not accounting for scattered dismembered limbs and what belonged to who. Already this is a pretty significant indicator of amounts, and this is at minimum those killed by sentinels. More become apparent via Alice's "collection." Its a common fandom joke that there's just as many disassembly drones as there are letters in the alphabet, though I imagine this not to be the case. Their serial letters seem to not be an exclusive trait judging by their armbands, and are simply nicknames given by Tessa based upon such. Though there isn't inherently evidence for this fact, its entirely possible that there are other disassembly drones with shared serial letters (though not numbers.)

Additionally in the literal End Of The World, we see a few additional disassembly drones (though those could be the same ones seen in CFL), notably all in the same condensed area, a city somewhere on Earth. I think its important to note that this seems to be DURING Earth's downfall, implying that the planet likely wasn't destroyed all at once (to the point where we see military involvement) and moreover, that disassembly drones were those who picked off the scraps.

There does seem to be some additional evidence towards the idea that the Earth wasn't destroyed all at once, via the photos of Earth we see though the CFL computers, where major parts are intact, but in the process of being destroyed. Earth being completely destroyed, as we see it in the satellite image, is the result of at minimum being 18 years (assuming this is roughly the age of Uzi based on Liam's words and ages shown in-series) gone. Additionally, we know that two other planetary systems were destroyed before the arrival of Disassembly Drones on Copper 9, being the Proxima and then Plat-Binary system, so it is entirely possible during this period of time that Earth could have been destroyed in the process of any time between days to years, possibly even being destroyed in tandem with other planetary systems instead of being jumped to one by one.

Though its generally impossible to give an EXACT number of how many Disassembly Drones are still kicking around on Copper 9 (aside from saying "at least 3") its safe to assume that if Earth really wasn't destroyed all in one day, and there is likely more Disassembly Drones than there is letters in the alphabet, then there's probably a lot more of them that were made than the average viewer would anticipate. How many of them are ALIVE though? Up for debate, between them seemingly being killed en mass by sentinels, and even just a simple worker like Alice being able to cull a few for her collection. (As an aside, there's two other unnamed planetary systems in range of Earth on this map that have gone untouched by the Solver. Neat!)

Disassembly Drones outside of the main 3 aren't mindless killing machines, you just wildly misinterpreted Cyn's line. I can feel the digital tomatoes being thrown at me already.

This is probably going to be one of my more controversial takes in terms of "commonly accepted by the fandom" material. I don't want to outright call anyone wrong in their interpretation of this line, but I see this used so often to be a debate point for the idea that all Disassembly Drones aside from N, V, and J, are simply turned into mindless killing machines with no personalities of their own. However, so much just… doesn't support this.

I've had a very large qualm with the "no other Disassembly Drones have thoughts/feelings/personalities of their own, they're just mindless killing machines, etc etc." mindset that has been so commonly adopted by the fandom for a while now. Because of this, I've had a lot of time to stew on it, and will be breaking this into pieces.

Disassembly Drones DO have their own thoughts and feelings still, and by extension are shown to at least have empathy for their kin, even in dying moments. Its unclear as to when the CFL Disassembly Drones were killed, if they were all together or it was in succession of eachother, but there is a clear fact to be seen: the warnings they left behind for those who would follow. Warnings of the same Sentinels that ripped them to bits, written in their own oil as a dying act. Messages of "DON'T LOOK" and "THE LIGHTS", as well as the crude depiction of the Sentinel's face litter the area. A very clear indication of danger, and a very clear warning. I feel like this alone conveys the idea that Disassembly Drones have far more on their mind that just murder. At least some form of care for their kin that would come after them is shown through these warnings, even if it would not be heeded. Their thoughts when dying were not on themselves - but in a last plea to attempt to save others that would come after.

Our Sentinel friends actually get to help with our next point:

Disassembly Drones, and by extension drones on the whole, are likely unable to properly function without any form of personality or higher cognitive function. I will admit that this subject can stray slightly into headcanon territory, but is somewhat supported by evidence shown in canon. To start, we'll give out the three categories of robots made by JC Jenson: Worker Drones, (Anti-Drone) Sentinels, and the Robo-roaches (tied with the separate branch of Keybug(s)) Worker drones are of course shown to have said higher form of function. They are capable of rational thought, decision making, and functioning of their own accord outside of an assigned task. The Robo-roaches, though unable to communicate verbally (save for the Keybug variation(s) with their text functions) do seem to show at least some form of greater cognitive function, acknowledging with hand (leg) gestures gratefulness at the acknowledgement of not being crushed, and showing a sort of disgust/weariness at seeing one of its own kind being beheaded, before shortly being dispatched itself. If you'd like to assume they are on similar cognitive level as the keybug counterpart, you can also add emotional responses to their capabilities. Sentinels, however… seem incapable of any higher decision making or cognitive function than your average animal, if that. They are given a task that they seemingly STRICTLY follow: Eliminate all AI targets.

Notably, despite their human creators, they seem to have a lack of care for human wellbeing, judging by the response of a Sentinel (specifically later officially known as Sparky) being very willing to bite (fake) Tessa, alongside the others soon after the fact being just as willing to attack what they perceive as a bleeding human. "But Rose" I hear the audience shout, "We know that Tessa was actually Cyn this whole time, so maybe the Sentinels were just confused and acted accordingly!" And to that I do agree to some degree! Sparky's reaction to blood very possibly had something to do with this factor, though it is notable that he is the ONLY Sentinel that had this reaction to the sight of blood. But to this I also say:

"CODE RED SECURITY PROTOCOL OVERRIDE ANTI-DRONE SENTINELS ENGAGED RUN FOR YOUR LIFE. SEEK SHELTER OR VACATE THE PREMISE IMMEDIATELY!"

It's already KNOWN that Sentinels can attack humans, even before the core collapse. They don't have the cogantive function to differentiate even between humans and drones in their orders, they do nothing but attack everything except themselves. Ironically, the very same thing that a large chunk of the fanbase claims the Disassembly Drones to be.

While of course we never outright meet a Disassembly Drone outside of the main 3, another thing that should be inferred is: Would it truly be USEFUL to have Disassembly Drones be mindless killing machines? On paper, maybe, the Absolute Solver's end goal is seemingly just to consume everything at any cost after all. HOWEVER, I think that one crucial detail is often forgotten about our murder friends: At their core (ha), they are still modified and infected worker drones. (Sorry to all of you with fan kid OCs, you keep doing what you're doing, but that Disassembly/Worker hybrid kid you made would just be a Worker Drone) This too dives into personal headcanon based on these facts, but I imagine that it is quite literally outright impossible for worker drones to function to a full degree without a personality. If drones were capable of not being given personalities or some form of sentience en mass, I think JC Jenson would have made them that way to begin with. Not only to circumvent the whole morality debate that comes with, but also the potential robot uprising. After all, why would you NEED to give a robot a personality, any sense of self if you just want it to do everything that you say without hesitation? Because it needs it. Having a brain means nothing if you can't think with it. We already have robots that do what we want because we programmed them too, but you cannot build an intelligent being without the rationale for problem solving, decision making, and obedience. There's probably more to be said about humanity's treatment of Worker Drones, how they're often made to start with the intelligence of children to cultivate obedience, and likewise how they are treated, but that's a subject for another day.

So what's the conclusion in all that then?

Chances are, when this was said by Cyn, it was meant more figuratively. Not "retain your personalities" as in "I didn't get rid of them entirely," but rather as in "I didn't change them to better suit what I needed."

Worker Drones may not be able to function properly with a complete lack of a personality, but they CAN function with an altered personality. In fact, we see this shown outright in the series: with Cyn herself, and her infection via the Absolute Solver. Granted, this may have been a gradual change, or it may have been a radical shift from what she once was. We never see Cyn before her time in the landfill after all, so it's impossible to say with 100% certainty, but we do know at the very minimum that Cyn is not who she once was because of factors largely outside her control. Additionally, it has been noted by Liam before that the Disassembly Drones lost the information of both their birth (manufacturing?) dates alongside their names when they were originally disassembled (ie. when they ended up in the landfill, not when Cyn tore them apart, as they still very clearly remember their serial designation based names.), so a loss of a basic sense of self isn't unheard of in death, but a personality is still retained.

Therefore, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that Disassembly Drones outside of N, V, and J do have personalities- just not the ones they originally had. Likely instead ones made to benefit Cyn further in what she wants, as she does specifically designate it as "your team", implying the existence of other teams, indicating at least some sense of unison among other groups of Disassembly Drones. Wow this got long.

#murder drones #glitch productions #murder drones cyn #murder drones N #disassembly drones

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