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#like sure ok fair that's probably true but i am very small and i think it turned out nice
punsmaster69 · 8 days
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20/MAR/20XX
there's a clatter somewhere in the room.
peeking open one eyesocket and looking to my right, i don't see anything out of the ordinary in my room.
i close my eyes to go back to sleep.
...
something else falls.
opening both sockets this time, i still don't see anything.
i roll onto my back and start drifting off again.
....
a small weight appears on my chest.
i open my eyes.
"...oh. heya buddy."
petting the tiny white dog, i once again try and return to sleep.
.....
the dog barks right in my face.
its "bark" resembles a squeak more than anything.
" 'ey."
"tryin' to sleep, pup."
but it doesn't let up with the noise until i re-open my eyes.
we make eye contact for a few moments. i use my hand to cover the creature's eyes for a brief moment.
it uses a paw to push my hand off. the dog barks again as my eyes blink closed.
this time, i don't give in, so it starts chewing on my finger.
"..."
". . ."
"okay, ow."
"what is it, dude?"
the dog silently stares at me.
"well?"
"aren't you gonna say somethin'?"
it barks.
"heeey. watch your language, pal."
more barking.
"whooaaa. do i need to put soap in that mouth?"
"SANS? WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO IN THERE?"
papyrus knocks from the hall, and the pup jumps down excitedly.
i sit up, slide my slippers on, shrug my jacket over my shoulders, and open the door.
as soon as i do, that dog is all over my brother. he scoops it up into his arms to pet it, all while he calls it variations of "pesk" and "rascal" with affection.
before i leave, i look around my room for any way the little thing could have gotten in.
eventually shrugging, i close the window i'd left open and head downstairs.
my bro is now sitting on the couch, dog in lap.
"I'M GLAD TO SEE YOU'RE FINALLY AWAKE."
no idea what time it is, but i take papyrus using "finally" as a good sign.
"had to make up for lost time over the past couple of days."
"DID YOU NOT SLEEP WELL?"
"no, not because of that."
"BECAUSE YOU..."
"GOT UP A LITTLE EARLIER?"
both he and the dog lilt their head to the side in the same way.
"bingo."
".......SIGH."
"WELL, LAZYBONES. YOUR NOW-COLD PANCAKES ARE IN THE KITCHEN."
"NO SPRINKLES, BECAUSE YOU'RE FLAVOURLESS."
i shuffle my way to the kitchen.
"don't you mean tasteless?"
"SAME THING."
retrieving the pancakes, i leave the kitchen and join paps on the couch.
"nah, one's describing how 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 physically tastes, and the other is how a person thinks 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 stuff tastes."
"BOTH PROBABLY APPLY. YOU WOULD NOT TASTE VERY GOOD I THINK."
"that pup seems to think otherwise. munched on my finger 'til i got out of bed."
"PERSUASION TACTICS ARE HARDLY COUNTED AS TRUE TASTE-RATINGS."
"wouldn't you taste the same as me?"
"WHAT?! NO! I TASTE VERY GOOD, I'M SURE."
immediately putting that to the test, the dog chews a little on papyrus' hand.
"HEY?!?"
i set aside my pancakes and offer my hand to the dog.
"ok, now to compare."
jumping over to me, it nibbles my finger for definitively longer than it did papyrus'.
"see?"
"W-WAIT, I HAD GLOVES ON, THAT'S NOT FAIR!"
removing his glove, papyrus offers his hand to the fluffy animal.
still, it doesn't chew him for half as long.
"..."
"THERE MUST BE A BIAS."
the dog returns to papyrus' lap and curls into a ball of sleep instantly.
"SEE? IT'S ACTING JUST LIKE YOU. THERE'S DEFINITELY A BIAS."
"whatever you say."
"I'M NOT WRONG."
"sounds like a sore loser to me."
"I AM NOT A SORE LOSER TO THIS CANINE'S TASTE TESTING!"
"BECAUSE, IT WASN'T FAIR TO BEGIN WITH!!"
"sure."
giving me a vaguely annoyed glance, papyrus sighed as he pet the sleeping creature.
"MAYBE IT IS THIS CANINE WHICH IS FLAVOURLESS."
"tasteless."
"SAME THING."
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novorehere · 2 years
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I gotta say, you mentioning El/liot in a post a while ago made me foam at the mouth a little
Any s/dv specific hcs you might have ^^?
(Putting my response under the cut because it got a little long! I just couldn’t bring myself to exclude any of the bachelors/bachelorettes even though I have a bit less on some of them. Also fair warning for slight talk of food being with you while you’re inside)
I am assuming with all these that the farmer can shrink down and stay safe using junimo magic or something… In a world with witches and goblins, weirder things have happened in game, so why not?
Elliott:
I have already gushed about this man at extreme length, so I’ll try to keep it short. Enjoys swallowing you very much. Possibly the most out of anyone. Is a true romantic, constantly doting over you the whole time you’re inside. His canonical vice is good food, so we know for a fact the fastest way to this beach poet’s heart is through his stomach. He always had a nagging anxiety about being alone for the rest of his days, and keeping you close like this makes him forget ALL about that. Tries very hard to be a gentleman, but sometimes goes a little overboard on the alcohol and his more unashamed, gluttonous side comes out. Thinks you are THE most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and will tell you that until you’re red in the face.
Sam:
Would be a bit of an awkward and goofy pred. He really doesn’t want to hurt you! Especially when you’re so small and fragile… It’s so weird feeling you poke and prod around in his mouth, he has to psyche himself up mentally before he can swallow you. Is a bit ticklish on the inside, and his belly is sticky and smells vaguely of soda. Eventually learns to really love the feeling of having you in there, but the awkwardness never really goes away. Can and will crack jokes about swallowing you. He thinks it’s super funny. Likes to play guitar for you while you’re inside, or just place his phone on his belly and let you listen to one of his new favorite songs. Will buy you ice cream afterwards.
Sebastian:
A huge tease. Like, annoyingly so. Knows exactly what to say to leave you blushing. He’ll take his sweet time tossing you around in his mouth to taste you before swallowing you down, enjoying all your adorable little squirms. Like Sam, Seb will also sneak in jokes about swallowing you, but moreso to see your cute annoyed reactions than anything. Loves keeping you in his belly while he pulls an all-nighter on his computer, absentmindedly rubbing his tummy while he focuses on his task. You also quickly learn being inside someone riding a motorcycle is… not fun. You try to avoid that scenario as much as possible, but Sebastian really loves it.
Harvey:
Is extremely fascinated about how the shrinking process works, and will ask you a million questions about it. Will initially be very surprised by your request. “You know what happens to food when you eat it, right?” But after a thorough explanation, will eventually be willing to try if it’d make you happy. Will probably need a bit of reassuring before he can actually make himself swallow. Breath probably smells like pickles, but not in a bad way??? Very concerned with your well-being the whole time, asking you practically endless questions about what it’s like in there and if you’re still doing ok. Finds it strangely comforting to have you so close to him, despite the weirdness of it all. Waking up to a cup of coffee with you sitting in it is a sure way to get this nerd to smile. Might potentially be ok with being prey if he can put aside his claustrophobia. Observing the human body up close would be quite interesting. He trusts you completely, so if that’s something you’d enjoy, let him know. He will definitely wait for you to bring it up, though.
Alex:
Stardew’s resident sports himbo would probably not fully understand your request at first. You wanted him to eat you? You can’t fit in his mouth, silly. But when you show him your magic, he immediately gets it. He’s a bit afraid to accidentally injure or drop you while you’re small like that (he can be a bit careless sometimes!) but quickly gets over his reservations about holding you in his hands. Thinks you’d make a wonderful pre-workout snack. Since you have a lot of energy, that should give him energy, right?? Since he’s such a heavy eater throughout the day, there’s a good chance you’ll find yourself accompanied by one of his other meals, be it a protein shake or a full, complete breakfast. Occasionally will start snacking absentmindedly without thinking about the implications of it ending up with you and then feels really bad after.
Shane:
Ah, Shane. When you first told him about your powers, he had scoffed. Just how was that useful? And you wanted him to… swallow you? Why him of all people? Surely you could find somebody else… But in the end, he just couldn’t ignore your puppy dog eyes. Plus, he feels like he still owes you a favor for helping him turn his life around. He swallows you once, then oops he’s addicted. The feeling of having you close like that is just the serotonin boost he needed, plus the free meal ain’t bad either. A bit shameless about it all, drooling all over you and rubbing his gut once the deed is done. Might even just continue eating afterwards if he feels like it. Probably has a bit of a sensitive stomach due to his not-so-great diet, so be gentle in there. Thinks it’s funny the way you squirm when he belches. This is what you signed up for, right?? The chickens love snuggling up to his tummy while you’re in there, it’s so cute and he secretly took a picture of it on his phone that he looks at when he’s feeling down.
Abigail:
Super chill. When you first brought it up, she just laughed and said “That’s sick, I’ve gotta see that!” She’s no stranger to weird magic, so it’s not too far-fetched to think she wouldn’t be too phased by it all. Very much enjoys swallowing you, and thinks it’s cute that you love it so much. Sometimes teases you, but in a very sweet way. Will make wagers to see who can get the highest score in a game, with a free meal as the ante. Especially adores swallowing you down after a long day fighting in the dungeons to give you a bit of rest. She feels like a human save point! Overall, a really great and fun pred. Also as an aside she apparently eats the amethysts you give her which is hilarious. She’s got that “I like this so I’m going to put it in my mouth” mentality I guess xD
Emily:
Emily is a weirdo. Weird enough that she’d probably be 100% down for it right from the get go. I feel like she’d be all about the whole thing, incorporating it into her whole “spiritual wellness” routine. I can’t decide if she’d be more likely to want to meditate inside, or swallow you up as a sort of “charm” to connect your energies. Either way, she definitely enjoys the intimate oneness of it all. Just PLEASE don’t drink the tea if she puts you in her teacup. Trust me on this one. Will also bring weird rocks inside you if you’ll let her. She won’t hesitate to talk about it openly with the other residents of the valley, and it gets a little awkward for the others at times.
Penny:
Definitely unintentionally babies you when you’re small. “Oh, do you need help with that? Here, let me cut up your food for you.” She’s just too sweet for her own good. I honestly can’t see her getting into vore. You’d have to really convince her to do something like that. If you somehow do, she’d be extremely nervous. Will probably chicken out halfway, and then get upset at herself for not being able to help you with your request. She really wants to make you happy though, and if she can finally put aside her reservations, she’ll find that it’s a lot less scary than she thought. Please don’t make her do it again though 😭
Leah:
Thinks your shrinking powers are just the coolest. You look so cute, you’re like her tiny poseable human model come to life! She’s getting so many art ideas now, and you get to be her muse! But then… you want her to what?? Umm, ok? As long as you’re sure you’ll be safe, she’ll indulge you in whatever strange game you’re playing. It’s kind of a nice feeling, having a friend inside while she works on her woodcarving project. It makes her feel confident! Plus you seem to really like it in there, so it’s a win-win. Can and will paint a portrait of you posing on a fruit bowl or a salad and hang it in her bedroom. Now whenever she sees a salad at the saloon she thinks of you, drizzled with balsamic dressing. Maybe she’ll work up the confidence to ask you to do that again sometime…
Maru:
I don’t know as much about Maru, as I don’t have very much in-game friendship with her. Definitely will want to research your new power once she hears about it. Maybe she can reverse engineer it somehow to make crops huge and end world hunger! It’s for the betterment of science, farmer. You literally can’t say no. She strikes me as someone who could be cool with both roles, depending on what she needs to experiment on that day. Can and will drag random inventions down your throat to test them out, or perhaps swallow you down and make you be her little test subject.
Haley:
Like Maru, I also don’t know much about Haley. From what I’ve gathered, would probably not be into it. Like at all. You’re literally covered in dirt all day, and you want her to stick you in her mouth? Are you crazy? Would think you being small was THE most adorable thing though. So many adorable photo ops!! Will show you off to everyone.
Krobus:
Including this little guy just for fun. Vore is a considerably normal thing to his kind, and is super honored you’d want to do something like that with him. Vastly prefers being prey though. As someone who’s lived most of his life in a dark and dank cave, being in a warm stomach is probably preferable to him. That way he can stay with you and out of the sunlight while you run errands. Poor little guy’s got separation anxiety. Also canonically tastes like black licorice candy, so he’s got that going for him I guess.
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bi-demon-ium · 2 years
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ok umm i've really not seen any kate stuff? anywhere? so i'd like to hear your thoughts on kate (preferably angst) please!! you are awesome btw <3
ok i don't actually know if you are intending to talk about book!kate or show!kate but i will be mostly if not completely discussing show!kate rip if that was not what you meant but i've seen the show a lot more recently
OKAY. so. i'll start small with some headcanons:
kate is soooo autistic. and adhd. audhd my beloved. yes i say this about pretty much every character i like but with kate it's PARTICULARLY true. (i believe i said in the mbs server the book!kate feels like she has adhd with a side of autism while show!kate feels like she had autism with a side of adhd and i stand by that. but it's vibes based not like, literal.)
but like she can have trouble expressing her feelings, even to herself. she'll either be unable to hide her reactions/expressions, or she'll barely have one at all, and seem unbothered. she's also very blunt and unafraid to state her opinion to anyone, even if it seems "rude". but she isn't rude, really, as it's not that kind of "blunt truth" some assholes like to parade about when they're really just being dicks to everyone. she's still kind, she only says something negative if someone has done something negative (ie, "you are very unpleasant" to someone actively antagonizing everyone in the room is on the table, but just randomly insulting someone for the sake of "blunt honesty" is not. she's never like, mean.)
also shes GAYYYY. or possibly bi, i don't have an opinion on that. on one hand lesbian energy on the other i could definitely see bi bi bi. but if you don't think her and martina got something on i don't know what to tell you. that being said i could also see her as a-spec, but not necessarily in a way that conflicts with Whatever's Going On With Martina. (to be fair, hpwever, one could argue martina was more into kate than vice versa, i could see an argument for aro kate for sure)
green beanie is comfort beanie. she very rarely takes it off. where do you think she got it? angsty answer is somehow it's from her dad, but realistically she probably got it later in life. (doesn't mean she didn't choose it for similar reasons, though... not knowing why she was drawn to the green hat, not remembering it's the same shade as one her father wore....)
also the bucket. i do wonder when she got the bucket. this one, while again a milligan-related reason would be super fucked up (in the fun sad way), i feel like. i feel like it's more that as a kid she felt like she needed to be Prepared. maybe something happened where she wasn't, or maybe she just felt like she wanted to be ready, just in case, all the time. but like. her getting a bucket, modifying it herself, experimenting with different ways to put it on her belt, the inventory changing over the years as some things were discarded or added over time... idk i just think. kate developing her bucket
kate & constance was so good and i want to see more of their friendship. so bad. each realizing the other isn't so bad bc they're forced to work together... chefs kiss. also, the only person other than mr benedict we really see constance actually seem to openly like in some capacity.
kate & sticky underrated. their talk before the cheating was such a good scene. i also want more of this dynamic
i should also mention kate & reynie, which i do genuinely like--the hug is sweet--but i admit is my maybe least favorite of the society dynamics with kate. although i do enjoy the contrast between kate "IM GONNA GO CLIMB THAT TOWER" wetherall and reynie "please why am i the only voice of reason holding this group together" muldoon
i've only explored it in that one fic but i actually think kate & mr benedict would be such a good dynamic, especially because in the show it's inexplicably established he's into engineering. LET THEM BOND OVER BUILDING WEIRD SHIT PLEASE
okay to get a little more into specifics methinks,
i just think a lot about kate like. immediately after season one, and--we'll just. we'll ignore season 2 for now, let's set this in my current anomalous idea of them all in season one (which, rip wetherall farm, but is currently number two & rhonda off at the airshows with mr benedict, constance, milligan, and kate in the house) so like just.
you've been alone your entire life. you've been independent, and you've grown up thinking that the only person you ever had just left you one day for no reason, and in doing so broke a direct promise. and then now, you not only have friends who've you learned to rely on and not just try and do everything yourself, but suddenly you have reliable adults. and more importantly, more specifically, your dad, who never left you but had been taken. had been erased, and even brainswept had never truly stopped looking.
and kate isn't stupid. she heard his story. she knows he must have been through Some Shit. and that he'd have come back if he could. but there's still that pain, that ache, of how long he was missing, for like, more than three quarters of her life! he vanished when she was 3! but now it's like. oh. he did want me. he was taken. he was taken.
so that's an almost identity altering shift in her worldview. and on top of that, her current world is now so completely different: rather than independence and circus life, she's got friends her age who genuinely like her, who she's bonded with through major adversity, and she has adults who actually listen to her and like her. and she has her dad.
and it grates sometimes--she's independent, she doesn't need to be treated like a baby! but also it's like. it's bizarre, because they care, but they don't condescend to her, they do understand she's intelligent and capable even if they want to protect her. and she's never really had adults like that before. not since she was three
so it's a weird mix of like being sort of happy/pleased, because they care, she can rely on them, and being kind of annoyed/frustrated because while she's learned she doesn't need to be entirely independent she still struggles with it. because she's kate wetherall, and she's always prepared, and she feels like she has to be prepared for what will happen if they leave if they're taken from her. she can't rely on them completely, can she? what happens when she loses them again?
and then the mix feelings of old long-buried resentment/anger under buried sadness/loneliness under a crisp crust of i'm perfectly fine, mixed with the new feelings of anger on his behalf, at curtain, sadness at the missing time, at how close he'd been for all these years without either of them knowing it, sadness for him, for herself. but like all of it is still like. under her trying to pretend like she's fine. (and her difficulty expressing emotions, even to herself, does Not Help.)
not to mention as much as genuinely loved the mission in some ways--her new friends (including martina), the adventure, helping people, her bucket coming crazy in handy, etc.--it wasn't exactly a cake walk.
she has nightmares, sometimes: about martina's face when she walked into the waiting room. about sticky's face when he walked out of it. about falling and falling and falling except there aren't warm, safe arms to catch her. about the nodes attached to her face and the long, metallic spires pointed at her, ready to wipe her like her father had been wiped. about her father leaving and never coming home, never being found. about being caught. about losing her friends. about curtain. about all of it.
but she doesn't want to share it because one, she doesn't want them to feel guilty: she did what she had to, and she doesn't regret it. two, and more importantly, she doesn't want them to not let her come on the next mission. (kate had already kind of had the idea that they would have another--they were a team! teams didn't just split up!--but now she's sure of it. curtain's still out there, after all, and he didn't seem the type to just give up.)
i think maybe constance might bully her into talking about it--we already know she can feel dreams (with her comment about sticky dreaming about steak and sticky asking her how she knew that) and as they're on a more even ground she'd be more likely to actually say something. but constance would poke at her about it and probably get her irritated in the process.
(also possible, she talks to mr benedict about this, bc again im a sucker for their dynamic + part of the problem is not wanting to hurt milligan's feelings, and one thing i like about this is i think mr benedict would be extremely kind and understanding about it, and really help like, gently guide her through it, and she'd be like wow adults have never actually helped me before, wild, and then the second she leaves he's like [collapsing into a mess] oh god. oh god. because on one hand he just desperately hopes that helped, and on the other hand, he's having a million crises. oh god. he put actual kids in danger. she's so small number two. number two she's so fucking small and she's having nightmares and it's my brother that took her dad and ohmygodohmygodohmygod. like literally it's like he goes from "kalm" to "PANIK" the second shes out of range. like the dissonance between mr benedict (around the kids, a calm and kindly mentor who seems to know what he's doing for the most part) and nicholas (0.0003 seconds from a panic attack rn, full to the brim with anxiety and guilt) is. hilarious, in a sad way. but i digress, mr benedict tangent over, sorry)
ANYWAY also kate and milligan. like. getting to know him again, and vice versa. this is personally painful for me. like so many years, this disconnect between them hurts, but like. it starts with that hug, with her letting herself lean into his side, letting him put an arm around her shoulders, and he's like. in tears a bit. and like. then over time just. trying to tell each other about their lives--particularly kate recounting her adventures--and marveling a bit at how similar they are in many ways. milligan slowly getting memories back and remembering her as a little girl and seeing her now, all grown up but so small and hurt still, and like. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
i also have so many thoughts head full on them & mr benedict, and also throwing in constance and everyone really, but that's too many and this is already long and i dont even know how to put it to words so i'll refrain for now. anyway my point is: kate wetherall. hug her please
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ace-trainer-risu · 2 years
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NOTE: Total spoilers in this post. updated as i read ntn so first bits are just theories but total spoilers further down. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
9/16/22: ALKJDF:LDKJ like literally five pages into Nona and already losing my mind b/c I think one of my biggest theories was basically just confirmed!! alREADY!!!!!! holy shit! i did NOT put it on the bingo sheet b/c it was too complicated to put in one very small square, but it still counts. to me.
anyway suspect I am going to feel compelled to scream repeatedly so rather than making a new post each time I'm just going to keep updating this post. if anyone cares, which I truly do not expect or require anyone to, I just like to yell into the void. anyway WOW.
9/17/22: camilla hect is ace she is SO ace she is ace and making all of my dreams come true. also. nurse kink pal. that checks out. dammit i also didn't put ace cam on my bingo sheet. like at least three of my predictions seem to be coming true and i didn't put any of them on my bingo sheet. anyway it still counts. to me.
(well i sort of put one of them on my bingo, I put part of one of the theories, but now it's seeming like maybe that part isn't true and the other part, which I didn't put on, IS true. sigh. so it goes.)
(later) ok I had already sorta theorized this but am increasingly sure I’m right so just putting it down for posterity’s sake, my theory is that Nona is Alecto and Alecto is the soul of the earth. I had idly theorized the latter part after my last reread of htn a few weeks but hadn’t been serious about it, but 170 pages in and I am increasingly convinced!!!!
9/18: good lord two of three of my biggest theories are one hundred percent correct, and the third is almost certainly also correct. I am a genius. I genuinely did not think I was going to be so on the money so I’m fairly shocked
LATER oooookoaaaaay I FINISHED IT AND HOLLLYHHHHHH SHIITTTTTT
literally I feel so mind boggled right now, my three big theories going into this book were a) John caused the apocalypse that led to the resurrection but not necessarily with purely bad motives (had this in my head probably since the first time i read htn, b) nona is alecto (was thinking this definitely at least since the ntn excerpts came out but I think even earlier, possibly since second read of htn), and c) the source of john's power was having completed the lyctor process with the soul of the earth (thought this was pretty likely) and that possibly alecto WAS the earth (was less sure on that point) (had been thinking of this since my third reread of htn which was just a couple of weeks ago)
AND LITERALLY ALL OF THOSE THINGS WERE FULLY AND COMPLETELY RIGHT???????????
not to toot my own horn but GOD i'm good. I truly genuinely did not expect to be right on all those points. I thought it was almost certainly true that john caused the apocalypse, 50/50 on nona being alecto, and maybe 25/75 (not in my favor) on point c. definitely was not anticipating all my major theories being right.
i mean i'm not saying i was right on anything as many of my smaller theories were wrong. all my meme predictions were wrong alas. but. still. i'm soooosssooooooo goooooood.
anyway I FUCKING LOVED IT. EXTREMELY GOOD BOOK. CANT BELIEVE I HAVE TO WAIT HOWEVER LONG FOR ATN.
here's my completed bingo sheet, got bingo twice, altho to be fair i was kinda loading the bases on the diagonal one, of course that was going to happen.
note: i thiiiiink that probably the concrete facility referenced in the gospel of john sections was canaan house but it was never totally confirmed (or if it was i missed it), so I didn't mark that off. and there may have been poe references but if so i missed them. i still think a few of these things may happen in atn but until then it doesn't count.
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white--moon · 2 years
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He stills, brows raising. It’s not exactly a surprise, but it’s not not a surprise to hear his hollow say they’re on the same side. They’ve been on the same side for a while, but hearing it out loud seems like a step. “Okay.” He does relax. 
Ichigo thinks it’s a pretty large agreement and he’s a little annoyed he has to remind him which one. Like it’s not important enough to remember. Like it’s not one agreements Ichigo’s ever made. And it makes Ichigo question whether he’s overreacted with all this. Maybe it was just a joke or a threat. He scowls. “It wasn’t much of an agreement, but I thought you’d at least be able to recall it. The agreement about you having some kind of ownership over me.” He swipes a hand through his hair and pushes out a breath. “And I didn’t send him after you. I was trying to be honest about what we have going on. Seems like telling a person you’re interested in that you belong to someone else is a good relationship step. He didn’t like it. But I didn’t do anything wrong.” Ichigo looks away. “I know.”
He snorts. It’s true enough, but he says. “Because it’s awkward. Being hollow seems like it’s more your thing. Feels like trespassing.” Wishful thinking? He hopes not. “At least if you’re bad at it too, I feel like I have a valid excuse for sucking at it.” He blinks. “Wait. What? When? You know him?” When did that happen? Shiro isn’t missing body parts and neither is Grimmjow. He doesn’t know if he believes it. But it also sheds more light on this invitation he’s supposed to be giving if so. He’s sort of undecided about this being a good or bad development. “I don’t know. Everyone is making it sound easy. It doesn’t seem simple or easy at all to me. I take my obligations seriously. I want to know what I’m getting into.”
He fixes his attention more fully on Shiro, still —on some level— in flinch mode in case his hollow decides he doesn’t like Ichigo after all. Except that’s the opposite of what Shiro says. “Oh.” He relaxes again. “Well, that’s… considerate.” He smirks some. “I wasn’t sure you cared.” He’s kind of touched in a weird, off put, mildly alarmed way. “I guess if he eats me, that would be fine. I’m not sure I’d be very forgiving about being eaten alive. If he just kills me, you should probably just let Seireitei handle it and enjoy your freedom.” 
He nods, motion small but sharp. "Ok." Good.
That annoyance radiates off Ichigo, but he's dealing with his own, somewhat alarm-stained annoyance. It's not even that the prospect of Grimmjow getting pissed and making a nuisance of himself bothers Shiro all that much, it's all the bullshit that would come with it. Beating up Ichigo's wanna be boyfriend probably wouldn't go over well. But somehow the agreement Ichigo did tell said arrancar is both better and worse than the other agreements he'd thought of first. "I recall it." His voice is a little monotone. "You... didn't think maybe that was an important part of the conversation when I asked what exactly had been said?" Ok. Well now he knows what probably crawled up Grimmjow's ass. It was him. Wait. Yikes. "You didn't intentionally send him after me, but you did turn me into a rival." His hisses out a breath, crossing his arms. He knows that wasn't Ichigo's intention, and he knows those intentions were actually good and altruistic or whatever. Ichigo's just trying to make sure all the weirdness that surrounds him -and Shiro- is on the table up front, which is very fair and probably for the better, but also complicated. The look on Ichigo's face when he looks away and doesn't even get upset over Shiro's threats makes the hollow flash teeth in annoyance. Annoyance derived from being entirely unable to be annoyed for any real good reason "Fine. If he decides to come to me, I'll try to keep it civil. If he gets his ass kicked, it's on him."
He grunts a laugh. "I'd hope so, since I am a hollow. You're more of an honorary hollow, maybe. You're welcome for that." Not that he actually thinks Ichigo likes being in a good place with a bunch of hollows, or all the shit he's had to deal with because of Shiro (before or after their split). He frowns though, "What? I'm not bad at bein' a hollow, I'm just different." What kind of insult is that? He's not bad at it... But Ichigo's getting ahead of himself. "Whoa, easy there. I don't know him. But d'you think, in this little city, two powerful hollows haven't crossed paths?" Two powerful creatures that are both inexplicably drawn to one shinigami/human, at that. He waves Ichigo's concern off with a careless motion. "That's 'cause you're talkin' to hollows about it. Everything is various shades of black and white and sometimes a splash of red." His mouth tugs downward thoughtfully, "Maybe you should talk to someone who knows a lot about hollows instead of an actual hollow. Maybe you could get it put into words better that way." Because everything he does know about it is purely instinctive and it doesn't translate well to someone who doesn't have those same instincts.
Honestly, he expected Ichigo to take his threat poorly. He figured Ichigo would give him some 'don't take revenge on the guy i want to be with' type bullshit and he was prepared to let Ichigo know he didn't give a shit about his morals and would do it anyway. Pale brows arch slightly in his surprise, before a muted smirk tugs at his features. "Don't get sentimental about it." He scoffs, but it's full of amusement. "Oh no, I'd eat him either way. It'd be a waste of a powerful meal to let Seireitei deal with him."
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maedaeme · 3 years
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every few months i remember that 1 post where someone was ranting abt how sketchy art styles only exist to mask a lack of skill and me & my inability to like my lineart have to sit together for a while and consider what that means
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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years
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What Are You?
A/N: All I have to say is I'm really proud of this fic, so much freaking fun to write. I am hopelessly devoted to Kirishima. Please let me know what you think! For the tags, I just tagged those that interacted with the post I made about starting this series, if you wanted added or removed just let me know!
Summary: A movie night gets a little out of hand, next thing you know you're losing your virginity to Kirishima.
Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima x FemReader (you) both aged up 18+
Warnings: First time, virginity loss, virgin reader, experienced Kirishima, LOTS of consent, oral (female receiving) size kink, daddy kink, rough sex, spanking, choking, belly buldge, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, degredation, dumbification if you squint, very mushy aftercare in the shower, I think that's all of them lmao.
Word Count: 9,304
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The movie you had started is long forgotten, the sounds fading into white noise as your eyelids drift shut. Your body feels like lead, and your brain is quickly turning off. You feel like you could melt into the bed and stay there for several days. You snuggle into Kirishima a little more, barely processing the contented hum he lets out when you do.
"You fallin' asleep sweetheart?" He mumbles against the top of your head, finishing his sentence with a gentle kiss.
"Nah, just resting my eyes." You lie, very aware of how quickly sleep is overtaking your exhausted body.
"Want me to drive you home?" He asks, one hand coming up so he can run his fingers through your hair.
You just shake your head weakly, not ready to remove yourself from his warmth. You really just want to stay, but you two haven't really crossed that line yet. You've been dating for a few months now, but you move painfully slow. You blame it on your lack of experience over all. Being a virgin in your first relationship has definitely come with a lot of caution and slow progress.
Kirishima has been absolutely incredible though, always letting you set the pace, always asking questions, and offering reassurance when needed. You've both definitely had some close calls though, with how much time you spend together and how irresistible he is, it's been hard to keep your hands off of him. You've had your fair share of handsy makeout sessions, but that's about it.
Today does feel a little different though, like there's been some kind of shift. Maybe it's the right time to take that next step, Kirishima has definitely proven himself to be worthy of your trust. You're confident that he would stop when needed, go as slow as you asked him to, and be there for you after.
As your mind races you wrap your arms around the wall of muscle beside you, cherishing the security his large body gives you. You sigh and shift your head so your chin is resting on his chest, allowing you to glance up at him. As always, you're floored by his beauty. His scarlet eyes meet yours as his lips twitch up into a fond smirk. He's definitely the rugged kind of handsome, small white scars litter his face from his few years of hero work.
The most noticeable scar is the one on his upper lip, about two inches in length as it travels up away from his pretty mouth. Your hand absentmindedly reaches up so you can run your thumb over it while you cup his face. He melts into your touch, turning to place a kiss on your palm. Your entire body lights up when he does, he's always giving you sweet little kisses, and you love it more than life itself.
"Whatcha lookin' at my busted face for?" He teases.
You smile coyly as you slide your leg around his hip, slowly bringing yourself up so you can straddle him. You slide your other hand up to hold his face as well, leaning down to press a kiss into his forehead.
"It's a beautiful face." You whisper as you sit back up so you can look down at him again.
God, the sight of him. Wild crimson hair falling across the pillow, stunning porcelain skin offering a marvelous contrast. Your hands slide down his neck, to his collar bones, then down his clothed torso. You mentally curse the black t-shirt that's currently hiding his skin from you, even though he looks incredible in it.
"What are you thinking about hon?" He asks quietly.
Your eyes flash up to his and he gives you a knowing look.
Does he feel it too? You've had plenty of long talks about it, he's always been open about how much he wants to make sure it's a safe experience. He offers you nothing but stability and assurance. The nerve wracking part is that he's so experienced. You're not jealous that he's been with people before you, just worried that you won't live up to them. Kiri has always been very open about his past relationships, just like you have with yours. It's just a matter of finding the confidence to take the next step.
"Oh, you're thinking too much." He says quietly, grabbing your hands to pull them apart.
You hadn't even realized you'd begun to pick at your thumb, but of course he's paying attention.
"Can I stay?" You blurt out, sounding a little too panicked.
"You can always stay." He says as he wraps his arms around your waist, then brings his mouth to press innocent kisses into your neck.
"Baby?" You say, hands carding through his hair.
He only hums, lips still working against your sensitive skin.
"Can we try?" You ask quietly.
Your eyes lock, tension builds, and hands tighten as you both silently understand your heavy implications.
"Are you sure?" He asks with all the sincerity he has.
"I love you, Kiri, I trust you." You breathe out, letting your head fall to rest your forehead against his own.
"If you need me to stop at any point you tell me, understand?" He says with a tone you can't quite decipher. It could be called firm, but that's not exactly right… convicted, he sounds convicted.
"Of course, Red." His body responds to his hero name in the most beautiful way. Muscles tense as he takes a deep breath in, steady arms pull your body towards his. Very suddenly, but some also not soon enough, your lips are on his. Brilliant, rose colored warmth spreads through your veins as he kisses the breath out of your lungs.
"Can I lay you on your back?" He asks against your lips.
"Please." You sigh.
In one swift movement, he scoops you into his arms and spins you around so he can lay you gently on the mattress. One hand stays on your waist, while the other comes up to hold your face.
"I love you, you know that right?" He asks, when you look into his eyes your heart aches when you see all the begging in them.
"Kiri, I've never been more sure of anything." You assure him.
He gives you his thousand watt smile and you can't help but return it. This man is something else. He's the kind that lights up a room, that gives when he's empty, and loves relentlessly. Most of all, he's completely, inexplicably yours.
Your head spins when he dips his head down to kiss your collar bones.
"I'm gonna get you real worked up, ok?" He says then presses one long kiss into your shoulder.
Excitement blasts through your veins. What a beautiful promise he's just made, and you can't wait for him to live up to his word.
"I need you to tell me what feels good." He whispers against your skin as his hands come up so push your tank top up your torso.
"Ok." You reply, cursing yourself for how basic the response is. He's probably used to people who can dirty talk like no tomorrow, and all you can manage are weak one word responses.
"You're thinkin' too much honey." He says with a deep chuckle, his hands halt once he has the fabric bunched at your ribs.
"Talk to me." He says.
"I'm just nervous. Insecurities and all that, worried I won't live up to other people. You know, stupid virgin thoughts." You stumble through the sentence, barely articulating the nerves buzzing around in your abdomen.
"Listen to me." Kiri says with his firm, guiding tone.
"It's just you now. Not them, never will be them again." He brings one of your hands up so he can kiss your knuckles.
"You're my girl, that's all that's on my mind."
The reassurance is short and sweet, but Kiri is always like that with his words. He says it like it is, but there's always immeasurable heart behind what he says, so it's enough to still your nerves.
"Can I make you feel good now?" He asks, face slightly mischievous.
"I think you know the answer." You can't help but giggle when his fingers meet your ribs again to finish taking off your tank top.
Soon he's got you panting and grasping at the sheets. Your clothes are long gone, and he is definitely staying true to his promise to get you worked up. Rough hands are on your waist, while his hot, wet mouth trails across the tops of your breasts. The more time he spends kissing your body, the easier it is to let the nerves die out. Every ounce of uncertainty vanishes the second his soft lips wrap around one of your nipples.
"Oh, baby." You sigh, back arching slightly.
"Like that?" He asks, breaking only briefly. Soon his mouth is back on you, tongue drawing lazy circles around your sensitive buds.
"Yeah…" You find yourself wishing you could respond better again, but your mind is mush.
"How bout this?" He asks as he slides his other hand up to pinch your other nipple.
You rub your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the pressure building in your core. You have to be embarrassingly soaked at this point. After just a few seconds of nipple play, you're already throbbing and it's maddening.
"Kiri." You groan, the friction of his fingers contrasting wonderfully with the smooth movements of his tongue.
You want to feel him everywhere, you want to be overwhelmed by him. The way his tongue is working, you can only imagine him using it somewhere else.
"K-kiri?" You say with a shuddering breath.
"Yeah angel?" He answers, his hand still playing with you a little.
"Lower, please?" Your voice is so shy and timid, and you feel the hot blush spread across your cheeks.
"You're so fuckin' cute." He mumbles before planting an open mouthed kiss between your breasts.
With the same slow, teasing pace, he kisses down your stomach. He stops right under your belly button and glances up at you through his lashes. He's fucking stunning from this angle, but you've found that he really doesn't have a bad angle.
"I'm gonna try something, ok? Tell me how it makes you feel." He says calmly.
"Aye Aye Captain." You say, earning a sweet little chuckle from Kiri.
Any motivation you have to joke is thrown out the window when he nips your sensitive skin. The brief pain sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy, and your walls clench immediately.
"How was that?" He asks, hands running along your hips as he settles between your spread legs.
"More please." Is all you can squeak out.
Kirishima just smiles and kisses where he's just nipped.
"In a little bit baby."
You become suddenly aware of how exposed you are and you're plagued with thoughts of insecurity. As if he can read your mind, Kiri places a kiss to your inner thigh.
"Can I please taste you, your pussy is so fuckin pretty." He sighs against your skin.
Oh yeah, you have to be absolutely dripping. His words have you clenching around nothing, you're so worked up you're worried you might finish as soon as he makes contact with your core.
"Fuck- please Kiri- use your mouth on me." You moan, shocked by your own boldness.
"Oh good girl, keep talkin' to me." He sighs.
Without any further warning his mouth is just all over you. No gentle kisses around your clit like you expected, not teasing fingers on your lips. Just as sudden, blinding pleasure rocketing through your walls as his skilled tongue laps at your sensitive, swollen clit.
"Kiri! Shit!" You cry as your hands find a place in his hair, desperate to hold onto something that can keep you grounded.
"Baby, I'm too sensitive, I'm not gonna- oh fuuuuck." You try to warn him, but the words never stood a chance at leaving your mouth. In the middle of your sentence, he presses one thick finger into your slick hole, and that spells the end for you. With how big Kiri is, his finger might as well be the size of an average man's dick, and it feels incredible. You can't hold it in, and you don't fucking want to. Between the constant, white hot pleasure he's giving your clit, and the sudden intrusion of his finger, your inexperienced body never stood a chance.
"Fuck that was gorgeous." He huffs against your cunt.
Your walls flutter their way through your orgasm, warmth oozing into all of your appendages as Kirishima slows his tongue down enough for you to ride out all of the aftershocks.
You gather enough strength to look down at him, and your blissed out brain wants to shred the shirt he's wearing. Your hands reach down desperately to grab the collar of his shirt in an attempt to pull it off.
"Where'd my shy girl go?" He teases before helping you get rid of his bothersome clothes.
"She left when you made her cum in under a minute." You share a soft laugh with each other, but anything light-hearted disappears when you look down at his briefs and see the outline of his dick.
Kirishima isn't a small man, standing up he's roughly seven feet. You're a relatively average sized woman, but you still feel like a dwarf next to him. Judging by the outline in his underwear, he's definitely proportionate, and the terrifying realization that he's probably not even all the way hard yet makes your stomach drop.
"You want that?" He asks coyly, red eyebrows shooting up as he grins down at you.
"It- it's gonna hurt, isn't it?" You stutter, hands balling up the bedding underneath you.
"It's gonna sting just a little bit, but I told you I'll get you worked up, and it'll only last a second princess." He kisses your nose for reassurance, putting your bubbling chest at ease for a moment.
"Can I- um- can I touch you? Please?" Again, you want to kick yourself for sounding so bashful, but Kiri seems to be incredibly fond of it.
"Of course you can, wherever you want to." He whispers, he leans down to brace on his elbows, his breathtaking body closing the remaining distance between you two. With him looming above you like this, you feel absolutely tiny, like if he put his weight on you it might crush you. Something tells you tomorrow is probably going to consist of a lot of bed rest.
You cautiously slide your hands over his carved abs, adoring the way his muscles tense under your feathery touches. Your eyes stay locked on his and your heart blooms with exhilaration. Your hands travel down his body until your fingertips brush the waistband of his briefs. Kiri takes in a sharp breath when you dip your fingers under the material. You steal a glance down, and you can't help but let your jaw drop.
He's gotta be the size of your forearm, at least. Shit, how the hell are you gonna fucking take that? You remind yourself that Kiri promised it would only hurt for a second, that he would take care of you. You trust him, completely.
He helps you slide his briefs off, and when he's finally free it makes you see stars. His full length falls against your stomach, and he feels so damn heavy. His base is resting against your mound, and his head meets your belly button. His skin is nothing short of beautiful, soft pink tip with a pale shaft littered with veins.
"Holy shit." You pant, your hand looks pathetic when you go to wrap it around his swollen tip.
"It might sting more than a little." You whisper.
"I'll make it feel good, I promise." He says with all the confidence in the world.
He's so unbelievably hard and your hand can't reach all the way around him. There's about an inch and a half between your middle finger and thumb where they should meet. You never thought you'd be so intimidated by a simple body part, but then again, this is Red Riot you're dealing with.
Before you can stroke him, Kiri is grabbing your wrist as he shifts to lean on his side next to you.
"Next time angel, tonight's about you." He says before kissing the skin behind your ear.
His hand lets go of your wrist so he can skate his fingertips down your stomach. As soon as he brushes your clit your body jumps, still so sensitive from the sudden orgasm he's just given you. You take in deep breaths as your legs shift anxiously while he dips his fingers down so he can run them up your soaked lips.
"You're so wet for me." He sighs against your neck.
"Kiri- please- make me feel good again." You whimper, desperate for his touch.
"Gonna stretch you out a little bit, ok? Gotta get you ready to take me." He mumbles as he presses his middle finger into your quivering hole again.
There's no way you can respond, all ability to speak is stolen from you when he starts to pump his massive finger in and out of you.
There's no stretch with just one finger, it's no bigger than the toy you usually use on yourself, the stretch comes when he adds his index finger to the mix. It doesn't sting, but there's definitely some pressure. You screw your eyes shut and reach for his forewarn as he picks up speed, needing something to hold onto as the pleasure builds in your lower stomach again.
Then, the spectacular feeling of his thumb pressing against your clit makes you cry out. You're shocked by the broken moan that rips out of your throat, and the way your hips roll against his hand while he starts rubbing urgent circles against your sweet spot.
"That's it baby, tell me about it." He pants against your shoulder, it almost sounds like he's cheering you on, voice filled with something joyful that makes your heart race impossibly faster.
"Kiri- that feels so fucking good- shit."
Your cunt starts to pulse around him like it did a few minutes ago, your body is already right on the edge again by his capable fingers.
"D- da- Kiri." You moan, you almost fucking slip. You want nothing more than to call him 'daddy', that's what he is to you right now. You don't know how he'll respond to it, so you swallow the name and cry out against his broad chest.
He seems to have caught you though, both his thumb and his fingers pick up their speed slightly.
"Say it, please baby, say it- fuck." He begs against your head, offering you the room to call him whatever you want to.
Your hand claws at his arm, the other reaches up to hold onto his sweaty neck.
"Daddy, please make me cum again, your fingers feel so good." Your voice increases in pitch the more you beg, he sets a delicious rhythm then, reacting immediately to your pleas.
"You wanna be a good girl for me?" He asks as he shifts so his free hand can cradle your face.
You nod weakly as your abs starts to seize up and your core starts to clamp down on his pistoning fingers.
"Look at me." He huffs, your eyes flutter open to meet his.
Kirishima has a habit of knocking the wind out of you with his beauty, but he damn near kills you this time. He's positively enchanting with the blush on his cheeks, brows furrowed as he focuses on bringing you to your second orgasm.
"Cum for me one more time angel, then I'm gonna fill you up, gonna fuck your pretty little cunt." His voice is dripping with desire, and his vulgar words are all it takes to send you right into another trembling orgasm. Your body twitches and jerks as your core squeezes his fingers. He stops thrusting them into you and focuses all his energy on rubbing your clit with his thumb, making everything so much more intense.
You moan and shake against him as he whispers things like "good girl, just like that" against your ear while you come back down.
All you want is more, so much more. There's no such thing as nerves now. You have tunnel vision for Kiri and the pleasure he's giving you. Even after two orgasms, all you want is more, more, more.
"Daddy please- fuck my little cunt- fill me up like you promised." You grab at him wherever you can, you almost second guess your dirty talk, but Kiri eats that shit up.
"You sound so pretty begging for me princess. You want me to fuck you, huh? Want Daddy to make you cry?" Everything about his demeanor has a sense of urgency to it. Not like he's rushing, but like he's handling something vitally important.
You just nod and whimper, it's all you're capable of after being rocked by two incredible orgasms. He's moving so he can settle between your legs again, and his weighty length hits your stomach again.
"Listen to me sweetheart." He says, voice shaking slightly at the end.
"I'm gonna let you put it in ok? I want you to tell me when to move and when to stop, we can even stop here if you need to." He moves his hands to hold your face, thumbs brushing your cheek bones affectionately.
"I don't want you to stop, I want more Kiri, please." You say, completely confident in your decision to keep going.
"Then it's all you babygirl." He smiles down at you, all warmth and adoration.
You swallow thickly and reach down to grab his pink head, nearly drooling when you see the ridiculous amount of precum leaking out of his tip.
You tentatively spread it around with your thumb, the appendage barely stretches across the width of his massive cock. Kiri's breath speeds up above you as you move your hand around his head so you can push him down between your legs. Now, with a clear view of him, he's definitely the size of your forearm. Nerves are replaced by excitement, knowing that once he's inside you and your body adjusts to him, it'll feel absolutely amazing.
Kirishima shifts above you so he can brace on his hands as he placed them on either side of your face. All his intricate muscles shift under his pale skin, he's so broad and handsome, it makes your head spin.
With very little skill, you run his tip along you dripping lips, and both of you jolt as the erotic contact.
"That feels good baby, nice and slow." His words egg you on, a fuzzy feeling buzzes around in your chest when you hear him praise you, it's something else you just want more of.
His head teases over your silky hole as you slide him further down, his fingers definitely got you worked up, but it's still gonna be one hell of a tight fit.
"Can you- um- could you move your hips forward a little?" You ask with a shaking voice, your body is sparking with the anticipation of having him fill you, and you know he won't be able to slide in unless he helps by pushing.
"Want me to help you put it in?" He asks, his voice sounds so light and breathy.
"Please?" You blink up at him.
"Just keep talkin' to me, yeah?" He pants out.
"Ye- Oh fuck Daddy!" What's meant to be a quiet answer, turns into an erotic cry. Your body shivers as the name slips from your lips and your hands fly to his sides. He didn't give you a single second to respond before pressing himself into you, and it definitely hurts more than a little. The sting of the stretch is almost enough to make you tap out, but then you feel his thumb dragging against your clit again. It gives you just enough pleasurable relief to catch your breath.
"Sorry angel, had to get that part over with." He says before leaning down to kiss your forehead.
"Red, baby, please-" You choke on a moan when his thumb speeds up and he presses even more of his length into you.
"Please what?" He teases.
He can't even be a third of the way in, and you feel like you're completely stuffed. Your walls are being stretched to what feels like their absolute limit. Now you know why he gave you two orgasms beforehand, you need to be absolutely drenched in order to take him. Even then, it's almost impossible.
You glance down to see how much more you have to take. Fucking hell, it looks like it's just his head that's in.
"Tell me what you need, gorgeous." He applies slightly more pressure to your clit, but slows the pace down.
"More." You mewl, despite the pressure on your poor, tense insides.
"I'll tell you if it's too much, just keep going, please Daddy." Your hands paw at his back, desperate for him to move.
"Fuck baby- you're gonna be such a mess by the time I'm done with you."
You don't have any time at all to catch your breath or answer him. The sting is almost blazing as he pushes his hips towards yours. The dizzying sensation of his veiny cock dragging against your slick walls is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You whimper and sniffle beneath him while every muscle in your body tenses.
Then, you remember to breathe. You pull in a long, cooling breath, and on the release let your muscles relax. You look up at Kiri to see him looking down to where your bodies meet, mesmerized by the way he's splitting you open. He looks so wrapped up in his love for you, which only allows you to let go of more tension.
He keeps pressing into you, little by little pain is replaced by a warm ache, that warm ache then replaced by traces of something pleasurable. The hand pressing lazy circles into your clit slides up to grab your wrist. His bright eyes flash up to your as he brings your hand down to the bundle of nerves.
"Rub it for me, baby." He whispers before kissing your temple, his deep, rumbling voice makes your thighs squeeze his hips.
"O- ok." You fumble your words slightly.
"Is that how you answer Daddy?" He trails his open mouth down to the skin just above your collarbone, then teases the delicate skin with his pointed teeth.
Holy shit.
"Yes- yes sir?" You say, head spinning as you try to focus even a little bit. Your hand haplessly moves against your clit, wanting to listen but your motor skills are rendered useless by Kiri's dominance.
"Mhm, good girl." He praises before sinking his teeth into the spot he's been teasing.
Your entire body jumps, reacting exactly how he wants you to. All twitches and moans as he guides you through this.
"You're so fucking tight." He sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes in just a little more.
"Well yeah, you're the size of a house and I'm a virgin." You say with a weak laugh.
If you and Kiri can do anything, it's laugh.
He looks down at you and raises his eyebrows, and he can't help but giggle in that beautiful chirpy way he always does. You take his hands in your face and bring him down for a messy, laugh filled kiss. Blinding love fills your chest, hearing him laugh, feeling him breathe, being this close. It's all giving you such unparalleled joy.
He breaks the kiss to press his forehead into yours, then he really starts moving. What started as another round of giggles turns into a moan as he stretches you more and more. Your hands grab onto his neck as your eyes screw shut and your head is thrown back into the pillows. The pressure is positively mind numbing in the best way. All you can feel, smell, and taste is Kirishima as he rocks your world.
“Fucking hell, Kiri.” You gasp before rolling your hips up against him, finally feeling somewhat stretched out enough to work with him.
“Oh now you’re gettin’ it, keep movin’ with me sweetheart.” He nods his head while he talks, urgent and reassuring.
He continues his glacial pace, finally bottoming out with the help of your needy hips rising to meet his. God, you feel so fucking full. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, in your ribs, in your throat even. He’s not leaving a single inch of you untouched, and you’re absolutely hooked. You gather yourself enough to open your eyes again so you can look down at where you two meet, almost nervous to find that he really isn’t all the way in even though you feel like you’re going to break at any second.
“Holy. Shit.” As soon as you glance down, your eyes meet the most erotic sight you’ve ever witnessed. There’s a large bulge in your stomach, that is very obviously caused by one thing. Kiri smirks above you as he runs a hand up your side so he can gather your breast in his hand and tease your nipple with his thumb.
“Ain’t that somethin’?” He muses, sliding his hand back down to grab your wrist so he can move your hand over the stretched out part of your stomach.
“Feels good doesn’t it baby? I’m right there, that’s all me.” He presses your hand into the bulge, and the feeling of his head under your skin, combined with the pressure on your cervix and against your walls, nearly sends you into another orgasm. Your walls flutter around him as your bottom lip quivers.
That’s when you see the tension in his body, you hear the strain in his voice. He’s holding back, he’s going easy on you.
Your walls are relaxing, growing used to the obscene stretch. You take a deep breath and focus on releasing any other muscles that might make it harder for him to do what he needs to. As you settle, you bat your eyelashes at him. You offer another small roll of your hips before egging him on with your needy words.
“Daddy, please, you’re not gonna break me, fuck me like you want to.”
He gives you a very serious, almost stern look. It doesn’t help ease your need for him in the slightest, it only makes you want to push more.
“I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise, please just fuck me."
His whole body shivers when you run your nails across his shoulders.
"Baby you gotta, if you don't tell me I'm gonna keep rockin', I don't want to hurt you."
You nod and swallow thickly, your body is absolutely buzzing with the anticipation.
"Words sweet thing, use your words. You'll tell me if it hurts, yeah?" He brings his hips back, and the drag of his cock along your walls is exquisite. He only moves maybe an inch, but the tease sends you reeling.
"Yes Daddy, I'll tell you." Your promise is said so sweetly, the way you trust him so completely sends him over the edge.
Just like that, your entire world shatters. He pulls back slowly, just to send his hips flying forward with one brutal thrust. It doesn't hurt, but there's so much fucking pressure once he's all the way pressed in. Your head is sent back into the pillows, thrashing wildly as you cry out and cling to his tense back. He doesn't stay there long though, only pausing briefly to savor the feeling of being fully wrapped in your hot, wet cunt.
"Open those legs for me princess." Kiri pants above you as he pulls back again.
You realize how much you've tensed up after his words pull you back down to earth. Your thighs had clamped around his hips like a vice. Slowly, you breathe in, then drop your legs open when you breathe out.
Then he sticks to his promise, and he starts rockin'. He sets a beautiful pace, it's not rushed or hard, not slow or teasing, it's just fucking perfect. He plunges into you over and over, deep and persistent. He hits every sweet spot you have, from your sensitive opening to your aching cervix. You mewl and twitch under him, your whole body being jolted every time he bottoms out.
"You're doin' so good baby, bein' such a good girl for Daddy." His voice breaks as he picks up speed, splitting you open completely.
It's turning your brain to total mush, all you can manage is a half ass "uh-huh" while your body moves like a ragdoll. You feel so full, and it feels so fucking good. It's all so foreign, so much, so overwhelming. Now that you're feeling it though, the feeling of being well and truly fucked, all you want is more.
The pressure just keeps building at your core, brilliant and warm. Sending electric shocks down the nerves in your legs, up your stomach, even through your fingertips. He's everywhere inside you, filling your mind and soul, you're drunk on Kirishima and more than willing to become addicted.
You blink open and grapple at his damp sides, as soon as you see your body being pounded into the bed, you feel your walls begin to tighten. Can you even call it that? You're so stretched out by him it's hard to tell if you're even capable of tightening around him.
Kiri sure seems to notice though, letting out short, pretty moans from the back of his throat each time he sinks in. Then you both see it, your eyes lock on it, both under a perverted trance. Each time he thrusts all the way in, your stomach buldges out a little, his incredible size displacing your insides as he fucks into you.
"God that's- fuck baby- you see that?" He stutters out, placing his massive hand on your waist so he can lay his thumb over your stomach and feel his cock head poking out from inside of you.
All you can do is gawk up at him and let your body be jostled by him as he continues to break in your body.
"How's it feel angel?" He asks, voice gentle and coaxing.
"So. Good. Daddy- fuck." You stutter out, the words come out choppy, cut off as you jolt from his pace.
"You feel so perfect, so fucking perfect." He mutters before diving down to press his open mouth to your neck.
He attempts to kiss you there, but all he can manage is a sloppy, inconsistent tongue against your skin. With his mouth open, you can hear all his sweet moans unabashed, and it's fucking beautiful.
A particularly broken sounding moan reaches your ears as Kiri grabs the meat of your thighs with his strong hands, angling your legs upwards a little more. His hands slide up to secure themselves under your knees, pressing them upwards he successfully folds you in half.
The tops of your thighs press into your sides as he braces himself up a little more, using your crumbled body as leverage. The second he sinks in from this new position, your thighs tremble and your cunt spasms. You cry out as your hands fly to his abs, almost pushing him back, overwhelmed by the intensity.
Overwhelmed, but so enraptured. Tears prick your eyes as you watch every muscle of his ripple as he works hard to fuck you this relentlessly.
"Talk to me sweetheart, how's it feel?" He asks, voice strained and unsteady.
"Feels- so- fuckin- good- Daddy." You all but sob, blinking the tears from your eyes as your jaw drops.
"You're such a good little girl, you look so pretty on your back."
His words hit a nerve you didn't know you had. The filthy praise, the sounds of his hot skin slapping yours with each thrust, the crushing grip he has on you, it's all awakening something deep in your chest. More, you need more.
"M-more- fuck- please give me more- I'm so close." Is all you can manage as the tears start to fall, wetting your rosey cheeks.
"Shit- give it to me baby, let go, I'll fuck you through it, just let go." He eggs you on. One of his arms shifts to hook your knee over his elbow as he sets the other beside your head to brace himself.
As soon as he releases that one leg, bending the other up even more as his thumb gets to work drawing figure eights on your clit, it's fucking over. You shiver and sob and claw. The most spectacular sensation you've ever felt takes over your entire body.
It captures every inch of your skin, wrapping it in velvety ecstasy. Your nerves shatter like glass, sending shards of pleasure flying in every direction. You can feel it up your spin, in the backs of your legs, and deep down in your chest.
Your body goes limp as your walls pulse around him, and he sure does fuck you through it. Your head flops back as you take it all, cherishing every sharp hit to your abused cervix.
"Gimme one more princess, I'm almost there." He moans, pulling your brain out of its stew.
You blink up at him, finally realizing how hard you're crying. As soon as you make eye contact, your heart nearly flies out of your ribcage. He's so fucking beautiful. Brows drawn together in a look of pure determination, skin dewy and flushed, bright ruby eyes looking at you like you hung the stars.
"I love you- fuck Kiri- I love you, I love you, I love you." You babble, hands sliding up tangle in the hair at the back of his head.
His eyes flutter at the sensation, nearly rolling back into his head. Kirishima is a slut for gentle touches like that, a trait that makes your heart go all gooey.
"I love you so much more angel." He sighs, eyes full of fondness and what you can only describe as home.
He's still fucking going. Pounding into you just as before, and your cunt is somehow taking it so well. You feel made for him, nobody else.
"Poor baby." He says as he brings a hand up to your cheek to wipe some tears.
The slight mocking tone sets a fire in your belly, another feeling to add to the endless list of things you're learning about yourself tonight.
"Did Daddy fuck you too good? Can't help but fuckin' cry about it?" His voice is back to straining, shoulders drawing up again, like he's trying to hold back.
Oh hell no.
"Y- yes Daddy, fucked me so good, you ruined this little pussy." You shock yourself with the vulgarity of your words, almost embarrassed by it. It's short lived though, given the way Kiri huffs out a gorgeous, "oh fuck", as he buckels down on his thrust even more.
The sparks start to fire again as your nerves wind back up, not even fully recovered from your last orgasm.
The hand on your cheek twitches down, but halts once his thumb presses into your jaw. It all clicks when he looks into your eyes, a silent plea in them.
You don't waste a single second, nodding frantically as you seize his wrist. You bring his hand down so he can rest his palm against your throat.
"Please, I want it." You beg with a pathetic voice, sniffling at the end as more tears fall when you feel your walls start to contract again.
He looks almost relieved, eyebrows relaxing on his scrunched face as his shoulders drop. He tentatively presses his large thumb into your pulse before speaking with a harsh, authoritative voice. His hips slow only slightly, more rolling than thrusting now, but still just as deep, still just as jolting.
"If it's too much, at any point, you tap me three times, let me see you do it."
You offer three pats against the forearm of the hand on your throat, gazing up at him with pleading eyes, desperate for approval. Obviously, you've never done anything like this. Nothing even close, but with Kiri looking at you like you're made of porcelain, you'd trust him enough to try anything.
"Good fuckin' girl." His voice drops, a powerful, deep rumble as his hips start to work up speed again.
The hand teasing your throat starts to tighten, but not how you expect. There's little to no pressure on your actual throat, most of it is on the sides. His grip cuts off the blood flow enough to give you a wonderful, delirious feeling in your head. Your whole body reacts to the exhilarating sensation. You can't help but let out a strangled moan once Kiri reaches his previous pace once again.
He fucks into you so intently, chasing his own release now. Your muscles start to seize again, walls twitching as you moan out nonsense praises below him.
"Little baby likes bein' choked, huh?" He taunts, releasing his grip just enough for your head to fill up with clarity again.
Then it clicks, he's allowing you to respond, he wants you to.
"I do, I fuckin' love it." You assure him, your voice doesn't even sound like you anymore. All whiney and wanton, full of lust and desperation. That greedy feeling scratches at your insides again. It fills your chest with white hot need for something rougher, nastier, more shameful.
"Be mean to me, Daddy, make me your bitch."
It all happens so incredibly fast. Suddenly, Kiri fucking growls down at you as he rips himself from your overworked hole. The absence of his massive length makes you cry out, you want to argue but your words are stolen from you by his next move. His hands are on your waist in the blink of an eye. He flips you onto your stomach, the speed of the rotation makes you instantly dizzy.
He straddles the backs of your thighs. Rough, selfish hands slide up the backs of your thighs. He gathers the fat of your ass in his palms and squeezes, letting out a low chuckle when you jump at the harsh feeling.
"So, you wanna be my bitch?" He asks, the tone of his voice sends a chill down your spine. He sounds almost… sadistic?
You don't get a chance to answer before his palm cracks across your ass cheek.
You yelp and whip your head around to give him a pouting look as you wipe more of your tears. The sight of him makes your dripping pussy clench around nothing.
He's sat back on your thighs, almost lazily. He isn't truly sitting on you, though, he would absolutely crush you. He's just braced over you, one hand stroking his glistening cock as the other kneads as your plush ass.
You just nod as your hands stretch out in front of you, grasping at the pillows, the sheets, the headboard, anything you can get a hold of.
His eyes are wild, strands of scarlet hair stick to his forehead with sweat. His stunning, chiseled muscles all flex as he pumps himself. Seeing him like this, it hits that rebellious nerve. There's no such thing as first time nerves now, your Kirishima's bitch, and that's all you want to be.
"Please, give it to me Big Daddy." You bat your eyelashes and bring your thumb to your mouth so you can bite down on it.
His hand freezes, body rigid with what must be shock. The hand on your ass slides up your back at a torturous pace. Buzzing anticipation settles in your gut as he leans down so he can spread his finger through the hair at the back of your head. Gathering a handful, he tightens his grip so he can crank your head back.
The bite at your scalp distracts you just long enough for him to press his broad tip against your quivering hole again.
"You think you're cute, don't you?" He says, low and dangerous.
   You just blink at him, brain firing wildly to try and process every new addiction you're developing. Slowly, cautiously, you shake your head.
   "Oh but baby…" He leans down even more so he can press his lips under your ear. 
  "You are. You think you can say something like that and get away with it. It's adorable."   As he talks, he presses his length into you. You would think that after being fucked for so long that your hole would have been more prepared for him. You're so fucking wrong. The stretch is just like it was when he first put it in, but this time you're so ready for it, you welcome it.
  "When you talk like that, you're gonna get your shit rocked." He mumbles against your ear.
   You feel his hands at your hips, then you feel him hoist you up so your ass is in the air and your face is in the pillows. Then, all you feel is a shockwave of pleasure as he rams into you from behind. Within seconds, he has you squirming and screaming as he decimates your cunt over and over again.
   The hand buried in your hair pulls your head to the side so you can moan out into the air instead of into the pillows.
   "What are you?" He asks, the hand that isn't in your hair snakes around your waist so he can bring your torso up and press your back against his chest.
   The action has you reeling, because your knees lift off the bed in order for you to be high enough to be fucked in this position. That's not a problem for Kiri though, he easily holds you up with the arm around your waist. Your legs dangle as he falls forward, other hand leaving hair so he can brace on the headboard.
   "Daddy asked you a question." He pants against your ear. Hips still snapping into you impossibly fast.
   "I'm your bitch- fucking hell- I'm your little bitch." You cry out, tears falling as one arm flies to hold the back of his neck as the other grabs at the arm around your waist.
   His fingers bite your side as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He moans as he soothes the mark with his hot tongue. 
  "That's right, you like it don't you? You like bein' a little cry baby for this fucking cock. Don't you baby?" His words are dripping with the most sinful tone, even without any attention to your clit, your cunt starts to dance around him once again. Just his voice, his voice and his nasty praises are enough to start another fucking orgasm.
   "Oh I fuckin felt that- You really do want me to be mean, huh?"
   "Please- oh fuck- please, Daddy, please!" You sob.
  "'Please, Daddy, please.'" He says with a mocking tone, "I told you to use your words, brat." That does it, "brat", something clicks within you. It fills you with a sticky, sweet feeling. It's something more intriguing than anything else you've felt. Whatever the feeling  is, you're absolutely starving for more of it.
   "Use me, please, use my little hole, let me feel you cum." You finally conjure a reply, digging it up from your newly found well of obscene phrases.
   "Shit, princess, I'm gonna- fuck-"
   Your filthy words seem to be enough to send him into a frenzy. Again his hands are on your waist, pulling out just long enough to flip you onto your back before he plunges back into you after your back hits the mattress.
   He's so rough and fast now, all desperate, harsh hands as he fucks and fucks and fucks.
   "Look at me, fucking look at me." He grabs your jaw, eyes full of feral desire.
   "I'm gonna fill you up, you're gonna take all of it aren't you? 'Cause you're a good little slut." He commands before letting his other hand fly to your clit as you nod and stutter out promises that you'll do as he says.
   As soon as his fingers start rubbing, your body seizes. Your eyes stay on his, nails scratching down his back as you cry and shake and writhe.
   "That's it- fuck yeah- that pussy's gonna make me cum- you're gonna make me fuckin' cum- SHIT!" His voice breaks at the end, a crackling shout as his hips falter and he sinks all the way into your silky walls.
   Your eyes stay locked on each other's, he drops his forehead onto yours. The hand grasping your jaw moves to cup your face, his other hand coming up to mirror it so he can cradle your head.
   This orgasm is much softer than the others, all fuzzy and warm as it oozes through your limbs. Kiri rolls his hips into you as his cock spits hot cum deep inside of you. You both shutter and moan, hands loosening you finally feel him fill you up. Something you should have probably expected, is just how much he cums. He pulses again and again and again as your walls massage him. He fills you so much that he leaks out around himself, inevitably ruining the sheets beneath you both.
   The feeling is foreign, briefly uncomfortable, but it quickly becomes a comfort. As your bodies calm, his hips still with one final gush into you. His thumbs rub your cheeks, wiping the remaining tears.
   "You ok?" He asks with a scratchy, tender voice.
   "Perfect, baby, that was perfect." You sigh as you pull him down for a kiss.
   It's slow and feather soft, your lips work so reverently against each other, thankful for everything you've both shared.
   He inches his hips back so he can pull his softening length out of you. Both of you shiver once he's all the way out, then you feel the mess he made inside you spill onto the bed.
   "I should probably go get cleaned up…" You say as your cheeks heat, not at all prepared for what happens after something so intense.
   He just looks at you like you're growing a second head.
   "Princess, I'm gonna take care of that." He assures you.
   Before you can argue, he's got you scooped up into his arms. He carries you off to the bathroom, completely abandoning the wreck you've left on your bed. You wrap your legs around his waist the best you can and bury your face into his neck. You feel strangely dependent and needy. You suppose that must be normal after something like that.
   Once you're in the bathroom, he steps into the shower. He secures you with one arm around your waist so he can flip the water on with the other.
   You try to ease yourself down from him, but the second you move your legs you're made aware of the powerful ache in your center. Standing might not be an option right now, or tomorrow.
  "I gotcha, baby, don't worry." He says before kissing your temple.
   You don't answer, just hold onto him nuzzle into his strong chest.
   The shower is filled with gentle kisses and an abundance of sugary words. He tells you how well you did, thanks you for trusting him, kisses the parts that hurt. He makes you feel so explicitly loved, so abundantly cherished. It feels your heart with syrupy fondness. It's all so blurry, but all so distinct. Every soothing touch as he washes you lures you further and further into a state of complete relaxation. He puts lotion all over you afterwards, making sure he's careful with the tender spots. Soon you're wrapped in a plush towel, perched on the counter as he combs your damp hair.
   You let out a long sigh at the cathartic feeling, then lean forward to kiss collar bone. You rest your chin on his chest and look up at him. You snake your arms around his waist and pull his huge frame between your legs. He sets the comb down before bringing his hands up to hold the sides of your head.
   "You're my sweet girl, you know that right?" He says, his voice barely above a whisper.
   You nod and give him a soft "mhm" as you press your lips into the opposite collar bone.
   "Words please?" He asks, gentle and guiding.
   Your brain is still so incredibly foggy, you're having a horrible time trying to scrounge up any coherent phrases.
   One of his hands slides down the side of your face until it settles under your jaw, with the pad of his thumb against your chin and his index finger under your jaw, he tilts your head up so you have to meet his eyes.
   "What are you?" His eyebrows raise slightly, eyes full of adoration.
   "I'm your sweet girl." You somehow manage the admission with a hoarse voice.
   "Perfect, don't ever forget that." He kisses the top of your head then, breathing in as he pulls you against him even more.
   You love Kirishima, and he loves you. You both feel it in your bones. He has all of you now, and you feel like you have all of him. Regardless of past sexual experience, you've both given each other something new to cherish and learn about.
    "Let's get you to bed." He says before attempting to scoop you up again.
   "Uh- Kiri?" You say, pressing your hands to his chest to stop him.
  "Hm?"
   "I'm kinda hungry…" You admit, suddenly aware of the gnawing in your belly.
   He looks down at you for a brief second, an amazed look dances in his eyes before he throws his head back to let out a rich laugh.
   "Burgers, and then bed?" He asks fondly, head tilting down to kiss your forehead.
   "Oh fuck yeah." You say excitedly, the promise of a big nasty burger makes you giddy.
   It's not long before you're sat next to Kiri at a booth in your favorite burger joint. One heavy arm draped over your shoulders, the other holding a massive cheeseburger. You sit comfortably dressed in one of his hoodies, it falls all the way to your knees, drowning your body in fabric that smells like him.
   He takes one, huge, messy bite out of his burger. Lettuce and condiments flops onto his plate as you carefully bite your own.
  "You're an animal." You giggle up at him.
   He considers your statement as he chews, then leans down next to your ear once he's swallowed.
   "You like it." He whispers.
   Your spine goes rigid and blush heats your cheeks. Of course nobody heard, only a few others out at this hour, but you can't help but glance around the diner to make sure.
   You slap his arm and pout up at him.
  "That's not fair." You protest, but you can't help the smile that spreads when you see him beaming at you with all his pointy teeth on display.
   The rest of the night is spent full of laughter and teasing over milkshakes. You eventually wind up back home, tangled in bed together. After a change of bedding of course. You press yourself into Kirishima as much as you possibly can, though you'd both be content to melt into each other if it were possible. As you drift off, you thank your lucky stars for the man holding you, for the safety he provides, for such a dazzling first time. You're glad you waited, you'd do it again, you'd do it forever if it meant you could share it with Kirishima.     
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Can I Commission Some Common Sense?
Adrien never thought a girl’s bedroom would be his downfall, yet here he was.
In front of him, Marinette led him up the stairs to his room and it took every ounce of his control not to start sweating profusely. Luckily her back was to him, or she might have had questions as to why his jaw was locked so tightly.
Hindsight was a horrible thing, as this was not a problem he’d foreseen when he’d first kissed her as Chat Noir. The idea he would be in her room as Adrien, pretending like he didn’t know every single spot where they’d made out, simply hadn’t crossed his otherwise preoccupied mind. Now he was paying for that oversight.
“I really worked hard on this one, so I can’t wait to show you!” Marinette chirped, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the doorway.
“Oh? I bet you say that to all your commissioners,” Adrien tried bantering back, despite his mouth feeling like sandpaper. She didn’t know he’d already seen it once before, the night he brought her back here after her near-drowning experience.
The night they’d confessed their love to each other.
Marinette turned around, beaming, and it was like an arrow cut straight through his heart. Squeezing his hand once, she let it go and waved her arms similarly to how a magician might reveal his final act.
“I don’t actually. Mainly because I haven’t had such a fun commission before!” she replied, poking out her tongue.
Oh god her tongue. I know that tongue. Oh my god stop thinking of the word tongue! Adrien’s head screamed at him. Images from their previous escapades flicked through his mind and he found himself wanting nothing better than to melt through the floor.
“We-eell I’m honoured,” he half-laughed, half-wheezed.
Marinette nodded approvingly as she stepped backwards towards her mannequin. A sheet covered the outfit so Adrien couldn’t see the contents below it until Marinette decided on the big reveal. “Good! You should be. I haven’t been able to take as many commissions due to how much studying and making stuff for my university has swallowed my schedule. So it was nice to let off some steam but also did you know that-”
Her foot snagged on the edge of the rug and she tumbled backwards. Without thinking, Adrien swooped in to catch her, his arm wrapped around her waist. For a moment, they both froze, and Adrien saw a flicker of a memory pass across Marinette’s eyes, the same one he shared.
Pulling herself to her feet, much more quickly than she had done when he’d been Chat Noir, Marinette slipped out of his embrace with a shy, slightly embarrassed “thanks.” She turned her back to him, the back of her neck tinged pink and she played with her green ribbons.
Adrien stared at the ground with no small degree of guilt. This wasn’t fair to her, was it? It was like he was tricking her into loving him. But how could he confess to her when Ladybug didn’t even know his identity?
He’d always thought he would tell Ladybug his identity first. She’d been the only one, at least in his mind, that had any right to ask him and vice versa.
But that was before they’d defeated Hawkmoth, before Ladybug had almost died because of his family.
He had no idea what to do now.
“Are you ready?”
The words snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts and Adrien looked up to see Marinette on the opposite side on the mannequin, fingers twisted into the fitted sheet much like they’d been twisted in her bedsheets the night when-
SHUT UP, STOP IT, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN AND YOU WILL NOT THINK ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW, his mind began screaming at him again. He turned his gaze away from Marinette’s fingers and stared into her eyes instead. It was safer, but not by much.
“Nope!” he replied honestly, with a smile that hopefully came across as genuine rather than pained. His heart hammered in his throat.
Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes at him and completely unaware that his response was a truth with many layers of deception. Like a lasagne of lies.
I am going to hell right? Yeah. Yep. Going to hell. This is fine.
With a great flourish, Marinette pulled the sheet from the mannequin to reveal the cosplay he’d commissioned from her. She tossed the sheet to one side, stepping into a high-lunge and sticking her arms out towards the mannequin with a squeak of delight. “Here he is! Squall!”
And finally Adrien had something to preoccupy his mind other than his lover standing right next to him. Yes it was true he’d seen the outfit once before, but his thoughts and feelings had been in such a turmoil that night, he hadn’t really taken it in. Now he was free to survey it top to bottom, mouth open in awe at every intricate detail.
“Wow,” he gasped, the geek side of his brain taking the wheel,  “This is insane, Marinette! A perfect replica.”
And he wasn’t just saying that because he loved her. It really was damn good. As he’d stated, it was a perfect replica of the Final Fantasy character he wanted to cosplay. At the Gaming Club’s encouragement, he’d been convinced to go to the next Comic Con with the rest of them. They usually all decided on themes for a group cosplay. Last year the theme had been action-adventure games, this year it was JRPGs which was far more of Adrien’s wheelhouse.
“Well?” Marinette wiggled, a pleased grin on her face at his reaction, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to kiss her right then. “Don’t you want to try it on?”
“OH HECK YEAH!” he cried excitedly, a sudden outburst for his civilian self. Stepping back with a sheepish look, Adrien scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. But yeah, I would love to try it on.”
Marinette blinked at him. Some emotion flitted across her face, but it was gone before Adrien could recognise it. Turning her back to him, she began to undress the mannequin and put the clothes gently to one side.
So that he didn’t completely lose himself in the idea of her fingers undressing him, or worse become jealous of a freaking mannequin, Adrien turned to stare at her room instead. On the wall above her desk was a board full to the brim with photos. Old school friends, a very young looking Marinette with her arms wrapped around with a puppy-faced Alya, a much scrawnier Nino in an oversized shirt playing what was probably his first deck, and a bunch of other faces he didn’t recognise.
It warmed him to see images of her growing up in a loving, supportive environment. A part of him wished he’d been there, had been her age, gone to her school, made friends with all of those happy faces instead of spending so many years alone. Would all the people in her class photo have liked him? He didn’t know. But it was the missed opportunities that hurt him the most. At the Gaming Club, when people would talk about their school days with laughter, Adrien remained silent.
A shift in the air, and Marinette was standing beside him looking at the photos too.
“You ok?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Adrien half-shook himself out of his reverie. “Oh yeah, I was just thinking about what it would’ve been like if I went to school. I mean, I totally get why I was homeschooled now, what with everything that happened to my mother. But I still feel like I missed out on a lot.”
A warm weight settled against his arm. Marinette pressed a hand against him in comfort. Her touch was a sliver of moonlight touching a cold, dark forest. Without thinking, he reached up and gave her hand a squeeze, feeling reassurance.
“I try not to think about it too much or I get sad,” he sighed.
“I think it’s ok to think about stuff that upset you, or hurt you in the past, without trivialising it,” Marinette replied. “It’s also ok to talk about it too. I know I sometimes feel bad about my missed opportunities. I had… a lot of responsibilities growing up. Some were thrust upon me, others I chose for myself, but it left me with not a lot of free time. Occasionally I wonder what it would have been like if I’d let myself be a bit freer. We all have regrets.”
There was something missing between her words, some unspoken secrets lingering in the gaps. Like lemon juice poured on a secret message, but the invisible ink had yet to reveal itself. Yet, no matter how curious he was, Adrien wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t seek out the secrets himself. He got the feeling that that was the extent of what she wanted to say and he was honoured enough that she’d trusted him with a little piece of her past not just Chat Noir.
“The good memories are easier to talk about though, right?” he said and Marinette nodded in agreement.
Adrien gave her a warm smile. Returning the gesture, Marinette gently slipped her hand away from his arm and he found himself missing the comforting weight of it instantly. She picked up his commissioned outfit and held it out to him, placing it into his arms with such care that she might as well have been placing a baby into his arms.
“Try it on!” she cried out excitedly, changing the ever-so-slightly sombre mood from before to one of excitement. “I’ll be downstairs making some snacks, come down when it’s on and we can see if it fits properly!”
It was hard not to get caught up in her excitement, so Adrien didn’t fight it. “Sure thing!” he chirped and, placing the outfit onto a chair, Adrien began to unbutton his shirt on instinct. It was only when Marinette’s eyes widened that he halted, mortified. “Sorry, sorry! Model habits! I’m just used to getting changed in front of fitters and stuff.”
“Oh, yeah, no, it’s totally fine,” Marinette replied, already in the process of leaving. “Will just get the shirt- I mean- snacks. See you in a bit!”
She left, or rather fled, the scene, nearly impaling herself on the doorknob as she did so.
Adrien ran a hand down his reddening face, wishing he had any sense of self preservation, and that his brain didn’t turn into a puddle of mush around her for once. His only boon was the fact that Plagg was currently napping in his bag, else he’d never hear the end of it.
Just try and forget that ever happened. EVER, he thought as he changed from Adrien’s civilian clothes and into the Squall cosplay he’d commissioned.
Every inch of it felt like it was crafted with finesse, with a care Adrien didn’t really feel as much. Yes the quality of the fabric wasn’t the best he’d ever felt, but that didn’t matter to him. If he’d wanted a commission made from the purest real leather, or actual fur, he’d have commissioned the litany of designers at his fathers company. They would have spared no expense for the son of Gabriel Agreste.
But Adrien hadn’t wanted that. He was just lucky enough that Marinette had had the time to complete the commission for him.
He wanted something he could feel proud to stand in. This was something his friend had made for him. He’d never had such a luxury before. And yes, as Chat Noir, she was something other than a friend, more like a lover.
No matter what though, Marinette had always been his friend first. Now he was wearing something she made for him. That meant more to Adrien than any world-famous designer or wealthy costumers clothes ever would. Standing there, in the childhood bedroom of a baker's daughter, wearing the clothes she alone (no teams, no assistants, just her) had researched, resourced and made, Adrien had never felt so rich.
Eventually he stopped standing at the mirror, ogling at how amazing the cosplay looked, and decided to go and show Marinette her handiwork.
She was in the middle of pouring apple juice into a glass when he traipsed downstairs. Glancing up, her jaw dropped. “Woah! Monsieur Agreste! That outfit really suits you!”
The apple juice overflowed, spilled onto the counter and then off the edge. Marinette jumped back with a squeak and hurried to mop it up, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“Well it’s all you!” Adrien encouraged, “the fit is absolutely spot on.”
Marinette spluttered an awkward thanks at the turn of phrase and Adrien couldn’t help but be endeared. Surely she was used to getting compliments by now?
Once she’d recovered from the apple-juice spill and the apparent shock of Adrien’s compliment, Marinette approached her handiwork. Her eyes narrowed in a scrutinising way as she searched for any errors in her work.
“Does it feel ok though? Can you move your shoulders and arms up and down freely?” she asked.
“Feels like I’m moving through a cloud!” Adrien replied, demonstrating by rolling his shoulders back one at a time. As he did, Marinette zoned in on the place just above his left shoulder.
“Aha! I knew I’d missed something! Come with me.” Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Adrien barely had time to panic about the contact before they were back in her room.
“Can you sit for me? This shouldn’t take too long to do and it’ll be easier to do it on you rather than the mannequin, but you’re kind of tall you know?” she chuckled gesturing to her chaise whilst she rooted around for her hand sewing equipment.
Adrien obeyed her commands, once again trying to ignore the fact that he had made out with Marinette in the very place he was currently sitting. She’d been straddling his lap and- if you start thinking down this path you are going to die so STOP.
Gathering some white thread in a needle, Marinette approached the faux fur on his shoulder. “I was going to just finish securing this side of the fur. It’s fully attached to the jacket, but I didn’t want it flapping about too much so I thought I’d hand sew the last bit. I’ve done one side but I… something came up and now it looks a tiny bit uneven.”
“Right, of course,” Adrien replied, thinking about the reason why she’d been distracted. In a way, he was glad she wasn’t telling him why. Ladybug and Chat Noir liked to keep the news of the wayward akumas out of the way of the public and only got the police involved if the akuma was particularly dangerous. The general public tended to panic about wayward akumas, often thinking that Hawkmoth had come back to wreak havoc a second time.
Although, in the turmoil of the night where Marinette had to deal with the latest wayward akuma, the night she and Chat Noir had confessed their love, he hadn’t had time to discuss discretion with her. He was glad that Marinette was on the same page as he and Ladybug were. Either that or Ladybug had told her to keep it quiet before she’d had to leave town and have Chat Noir step in to help Marinette. They did know each other, though the extent of that acquaintanceship, Adrien wasn’t sure.
He was interrupted from his musings when Marinette’s chest almost hit him in the face.
It was a strange thing, to have two impulses so at war with each other that they completely cancel the other one out. On the one hand, Adrien’s impulse was to throw himself backwards, away from her chest and probably head-over-heels off the chaise.
The other impulse was a lot more damning, and involved moving forwards.
Neither option was good, so Adrien sat there, frozen, his eyes glazed over, his lips pressed together and his fingers digging so hard into the underside of the chaise that he was sure he could hear the fabric ripping.
Then, blessedly, Marinette shifted and her chest was no longer in front of him. She was so into her work that she hadn’t noticed his suffering, which Adrien was hugely grateful for.
“I’m almost done,” she said, shifting the collar. Her fingers brushed against his neck and Adrien let out a tiny, involuntary whine.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, trying to keep still and calm himself down, “ticklish.”
“Oh!” Marinette giggled, before dropping her voice teasingly as she continued her work.  “Well don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
You are KILLING ME HERE, Princess.
Although Marinette was true to her word, and it really only took a few minutes for her to finish, hours went past for Adrien. When she finally cut the last bit of thread and turned away from him with a happy “There, all done!” Adrien felt himself almost collapse forwards with relief. “Ok, now let’s get a good look!”
Adrien stood on admittedly shaking legs and went back to the mirror. Once again he distracted himself with how amazing the commission had turned out. “This is absolutely incredible, Marinette,” he said sincerely. “You have a real gift.”
“Ah well,” she shrugged, but looked pleased with his praise. She flexed her bicep. “Genius is 1% talent, 99% work after all.”
“Not sure I’d agree with those statistics,” Adrien replied, spinning away from his mirror. “Would have to conduct a proper and fair test first.”
“Ok Monsieur Space Science,” Marinette rolled her eyes and approached him, bopping him on the nose. Adrien loved moments like this, rare that they were, where he could simply relax around her, tease her as his civilian self and have her respond in kind. The good kind of butterflies fluttered through his stomach.
“Shall we take some photos? I feel like an outfit this good has to be shared with the world, right?” Adrien asked, twisting into a few practice model poses and exaggerating them enough to make her laugh. He beamed.
“Maybe, but we shouldn’t share them right now I don’t think,” she said walking back towards her desk and leaning against it. “Your face and social media comes with a lot of clout. If we post stuff online, I’ll get a lot of attention which I don’t really want at the moment, especially with my studies. But once the convention arrives, all my studies should have died down and I’ll be able to handle the inevitable flood of people to my socials. Also I don’t want you to think any of us are taking advantage of you because of your social media following. You know that’s not why I took your commission...right?”
“Of course I do!” Adrien reassured. “You haven’t got an underhanded bone in your body.”
A shadow crossed over Marinette’s face but she turned to look at her wall of photographs and Adrien couldn’t analyse it further. When she next spoke, however, her tone gave no indication there was a problem, so maybe Adrien had imagined it?
“Ok so no socials now but I could put it on my wall! I just realised I don’t have any pictures of you up there yet! We have to fix that!”
Grabbing her phone, Marinette flipped it to selfie mode and stood beside Adrien. “Ready?”
Adrien stood by her side, angling himself to get as much of her outfit in the shot as possible. Due to their height difference, he crouched a tiny amount so he could fit more into frame (but subtly enough as to not potentially offend her). His heart was glowing.
Yes, it was true, his civilian self was restricted. He couldn’t hold her, kiss her, touch her and flirt with her the way he could when he was Chat Noir.
But he was still going up on her wall of photos, and that was enough for now.
“Ready,” he confirmed, mirroring her peace sign.
The camera went off, and Adrien smiled.
---
Day 8 of @adrinetteapril is commissions! So I thought I’d write a WDDM short! Hope you like it :3
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Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)
Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!
What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees​. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3
If you’d like to  read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.
Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/
Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)
Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.
Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @casifer-is-king​ (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)
GIF: @nathan-bateman​
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From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.
Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.
You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.
At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.
Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.
…Most of the time.
Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.
“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.
Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.
“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.
“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”
You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.
“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.
Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.
“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”
You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?
“We’re gonna have to share a room.”
You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.
You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.
Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”
“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.
Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”
Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.
“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”
Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.
“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.  
He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.
“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?
He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”
Oh. Oh dear.
You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.
Right. Ha.
What could possibly go wrong?
**********************
It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.
Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.
Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.
“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.
Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.
It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.
You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.
“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.
“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.
“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”
Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.
“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.
You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.
You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.
You’re not ready for that.
You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.
“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.
“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.
“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.
“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”
“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.
Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.
Especially in that damn suit.
***********************************
The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.
Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.
You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.
“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.
“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.
“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”
So, he did think of you, then?
“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.
“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.
You still don’t look at him. You can’t.
“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.
You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.
“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.
It doesn’t half sting.
“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.
“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”
“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.
“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”
You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?
You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”
Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.
Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”
You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.
He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”
“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.
He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.
You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.
“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”
Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.
When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.
A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.
You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.
***********************
You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.
Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.
Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.
With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.
You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.
Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.
You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.
“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.
“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.  
He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.
This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.
You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.
As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.
After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.
“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”
You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.
“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”
There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.
You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”
This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.
A soft smile blooms on your face.
It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.
For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.
So, you simply let him hold you.
To disarm you further.
To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.
****************************************
In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.
“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.
“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.
You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”
“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.
Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.
Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.
There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.
Operation Wedding Day is go.
That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?
“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.
“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”
Ready. Are you ready?
Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.
Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.
“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.
You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”
“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”
You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.
Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.
“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”
You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.
You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.
Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.
*********************************************
Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.
Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.
The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.
Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.
Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.  
You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.
There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.
After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.
At least… you think so.
You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.
And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.
You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.
“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”
“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.
“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”
You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.
“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”
A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.
Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?
You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.
“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”
“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.
“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”
A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.
“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.
The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”
Ready. Are you ready?
“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”
Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.
“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”
Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.
If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.
“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”
With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.
You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.
“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.  
You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.
“Santi.”
And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.
You know he will take care of you.  
With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.
It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.
So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.
“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.
“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”
Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.
“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.
“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.
You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”
And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.
THE END
(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)
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redrosesartcabin · 3 years
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So yeah, I wrote the thing based on an anon message for @itsme-star
I made it a Barley x (female) reader (based on my self insert character) fanfic ‘cause I had to be a little self indulgent lmao
I hope you enjoy it! It turned out longer than I had planned xD
——————————————————
The double-decker couch
Barley x (female) reader fanfiction
———
Around three months ago:
Y/n’s boyfriend, Barley Lightfoot, had knocked on her window… with small stones… in the middle of the night:
At first her ear just twitched and the noise had mashed with the dream she was having, but the more the noise repeated, the more her consciousness felt pulled into the physical realm again, and with a groan, she had to face the reality that the noise would not stop until she got up (she already had a suspicion as to who was causing the noise).
With a heavy sigh, y/n forced herself from under her comfortable blanket, before ripping the window open.
‘Of course it’s him’, she thought, looking down at Barley as he waved his hands up at her, somehow wide awake.
‘How much energy can a person have?’, she asked herself, before she motioned with her hands, that she’d come outside.
“What in the world are you doing here?”, she asked as she arrived, whisper-yelling at him.
“Well you know how it is my lady: sometimes one just drives around at night after finishing a campaign of quests of yore and sees the poster of a double-decker bus and then one might think: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if one could have a couch after that structure?’ After having had thought about a new couch for a while and ‘wouldn’t it be cool, if one might be able to build that with their girlfriend?’”
“I can’t say I relate, though I am impressed by one having the idea”, she said, deliberately accentuating the word ‘one’, as she couldn’t now but smile at her beautiful dork, “And I have to say I love the idea, though I still have to decide whether it was worth waking me up at three a.m… but for now I’ll just say yes, because I love you too much to be mad at you for this”
“I know: I’m irresistible”, he winked, pulling her closer to him and engaging her in a sickeningly romantic kiss.
“As nice as this is, I would still like to catch up on some sleep. We’ll write later and you tell when we should start building”
“I actually thought… you know… that maybe now-”
“Don’t push it”
“Right”
Now:
It hadn’t been easy. First they had to scavenge several junkyards for old couches (because let’s be real: They were both poor college students and buying material or new couches just was too expensive), who weren’t completely busted. Then they had to figure out how to build the thing.
After studying art for a while, where y/n had to do a bunch of installation projects, she had gotten significantly better at building things with woods and such, though she still wasn’t an expert. And whilst Barley also got crafty from time to time, he also wasn’t a master.
But somehow, after sweat, and even a couple of tears after y/n once got her hand stuck under one of the couches, they had finished it: The double decker couch.
“This-”, Barley said, pointing his finger at it, “This is beautiful”.
It was a yellow and a green couch, connected through metal poles and stabilized with old wood planks with two ladders placed on top of it and just enough space between the couches, so that one could sit up straight. It sort of looked like a bunk bed, but with couches.
“It is. It really is”, y/n agreed, looking at her bandaged hand, “totally worth busting my hand”
“Totally worth going through every junkyard in the city”, Barley added.
“Totally worth being awake once for 48 hours”, she added as well.
“This should be awarded some kind of price… maybe I’d also just be happy for some money for a wellness weekend ‘cause my back could really need a nice massage”, Barley groaned, touching the small of his back.
“Hard agree”
They stayed standing there for a while, looking at it, before y/n occurred a question that should’ve occurred to her much sooner.
“So-uhm-”, she started, “what do we actually do with it now?”, she asked
“Sit on it of course. You sit below and I above so I can feed you grapes like you’re a roman emperor”, Barley explained matter of factly.
“That sounds lovely darling but that’s not what I mean”
“What seems to be the issue then?”he asked, a little frustrated. What could she possibly have to say now? After so much hard work?
“I mean… where do we put it?”, she asked with a sincere expression which immediately washed away his annoyance, “because it certainly won’t stay in my parents basement”, she stated.
“It’s certainly more worthy than this old, dusty room with your family's junk. And also because this place is crawling with bugs that I will have to remove every time because you’ll just screech and run away until it magically disappears”
“Hey!”, y/n interjected
“It's true!”
“Ok yeah fair enough, though seriously- where? I also can bet’ya we can’t put it anywhere in our homes either. It probably barely fit under the ceiling”
“Yeah no”
A moment of contemplative silence spread across them.
After a while, Barleys thoughts wandered to the night where he had gotten the idea. He thought about his beloved car-
‘OH. MY. GOD. That’s it!’, he thought to himself.
“I got it!”, he then yelled excitedly, his face contorted into one of the most adorable expressions y/n had ever seen anyone wear. No matter what it would be: She couldn’t but say yes to that smile.
Still she asked, “What’ya got?”
“You know how I got my idea from a poster with a double-decker bus?”, he asked her, still smiling like he had won the lottery
“Yes?”
“And you know how I have a van, right?”
“No”, she answered sarcastically, “I know absolutely nothing about your most prized possession of a van that you called Guenivere the second after you sacrificed your first Guenivere when on a quest-”
“Ok I got the gist”, he chuckled, “but ok hear this: Since I have this wonderful van, this wonderful BIG van-”
“Wait a minute: You really want to put the couch in-”, she interrupted as she realized what he was saying, but got immediately interrupted back as he realized she had caught on
“Yes! I absolutely am”
“Dear lord… but ok I have no better idea, let’s do it”
“YES”
“Barley I am telling you, this is NOT working”, y/n huffed as she let her side of the construction gently land on the ground once again.
“Come on, just one more time!”, Barley pleaded.
“You’ve been saying ‘just one more time’ for an hour!”, she argued, “there is no way around: this just doesn’t fit inside the van. You underestimated Guenivere”
“Hey! There is no underestimating Guenivere! It’s not her fault”, he pouted.
“Ok ok ok... Sorry Gueni”, y/n said, giving the car a sincere pat on one of the back doors. She has gotten used to treating the car similar to a pet, “but seriously: We’ve been trying this at every angle, and as cool as Guenivere is, she can’t magically shapeshift”
“Magically shapeshift”, Barely repeated her last words, suddenly deep in thought, before an “ohhhh”, sound escaped him, “wait here my lady, I’ll be back in a sec”
“O...k”, she said, a little confused.
Five minutes later, she saw Ian storm out of his house, his hands clenched around his magic staff, with Barley closely behind him. “WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY?”Ian yelled as he came to a hold, which caused his brother to almost crash into him.
“I need you to make Guenivere big enough so that our self made double-decker couch fits into her”, Barely explained, breathing as though he had just run from death.
For a moment nobody said anything to that before Ian and y/n both shouted
“WHAT?”,at the same time.
“So much for an emergency”, Ian also mumbled, a little annoyed at his brother's antics.
“I mean: If she’s too small, then we can just make her bigger, right?”
“Technically yes but I think you didn’t consider a very small, tiny detail”, Ian commented.
“And what would that be?”, Barley asked irritated, not understanding what the issue was.
“You are aware as a supposed magic expert, that I can’t only enlarge the trunk, right? I would have to make the entire car big, and that would lead-”
“-to the entire street being filled with the car”, y/n finished the thought, apologetically laying her hand on Barleys shoulder, “I’m sorry my love. It was a nice thought”
“Dang it”, Barley breathed out, “I was looking forward to make my own uber-van-couch-double-decker-business”
“Hm”, y/n simply hummed. She had known from the beginning it would probably go south, but his enthusiasm had given her hope.
“Sorry Barley”, Ian said quietly, now feeling bad for having been so harsh beforehand , before slowly heading inside again.
Y/n and Barely sat down on the edge of Guenivere’s trunk, tired and disappointed that it all hadn’t turned out like they wanted as they looked at their creation.
Y/n leaned against Barley’s shoulder, lovingly rubbing her cheek against him like a cat (she loved doing that).
After a while Barley decided he had enough of sulking, standing up to go to the front to put on some good old metal (which luckily she enjoyed too).
As he however returned to the trunk, he noticed some ropes laying around.
He had used ropes last time to tie up some of the material he had bought for their project, so they wouldn’t move around- what if though…
“Ok I’ve had enough”, Barley decided, “I WILL have my double-decker-couch-van for more people to ride with me and my buddies and if its the last thing I’m gonna do!”
“Barley, what are you-”, y/n wanted to ask, but as she saw him pick up the ropes from the trunk floor, she understood, “- Are you sure this will work out?”
“Nope”, he answered truthfully, “but I will surely try!”
She was still skeptical, but at the same time she would try anything with him, and if it meant helping him tie a double-decker-couch to the roof of his van.
“If you believe it can be done, I will too”, she smiled, giving him a quick peck on his cheek, “let’s do this!”
It was eight p.m. The sun was almost behind the horizon and the streetlamps threw dodgy looking lights in the middle of the street and kept the corners dark.
But the elven couple, who stood in front of a yellow van with a double-decker couch tied to its roof, couldn't help but see what they had accomplished: Which was accomplishing what, at least the female elf, had thought was impossible… yet again.
“I can’t believe that worked”, Y/n mumbled.
“Told ya”, Barley hushed back.
“Should we drive around? See if anyone is crazy enough to go on a drive?”, she asked.
“You bet we are. And tomorrow… and whenever we can. I’ll be the driver and you the tourist guide.. or maybe some kinda sturdess, after all you’re good lookin’”
“Oh hush”, she giggled, visibly blushing
“And-”, he continued, though not without giving her a good wink after his compliment, “then we’re gonna show the dear people of this town another perspective to life”
“That we can promise”, she laughed, “that we sure can”
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strawberrybabydog · 3 years
Note
look at these carrds
https://dainfo.carrd.co/#one
https://delusionalattachments.carrd.co/#
ok long post time. but basically both of these are full of misinfo. the first one isn't terrible and i agree on some opinions. the second one though is just.... wow that was a lot to read and most of it is inaccurate and harmful.
first thread:
it's got some incorrect info on it: delusions arent Fake and shouldn't be treated that way
it's not very nice to talk about delusional people as if we're stupid or can't decide things for ourselves. i dont think this is intentional though
it's typically not good to encourage a delusion, but it really depends on the individual. for example, encouraging my dog delusion literally does nothing. it's not right to make a blanket statement that you should never ever under any circumstance interact with someone's delusions positively.
huge agree that D/A community just gatekeeps fictionkinity & is causing huge harm to the psychotic community though. HUGE agree.
conclusion: their heart is in the right place, but they're not quite getting to where they want to be with this. /gen
second thread:
also has inaccurate information lol. like so much:
it's not fair to say that these types of delusions are incredibly harmful, because they're not. delusions technically are inherently harmful, but there's a fuck ton of nuance to this and it's just not fair to act like "having a DA" is this life-ruining thing for everyone, when it's not. for some people, sure, but not for everyone.
"This is a large different between believing your an object of a D/A and knowing you aren't a D/A and acknowledging it in a healthy way." um.... no. when you have a DMS of the self, you either are... or arent. there is no i am half this thing, i relate to this thing, i like this thing. there is i am not always this thing, but that's because delusions fluctuate.
they stress really hard through this thread that D/As are kind of this life-ruining thing, and then at the end say that "reality checking isn't ableist" which is weird because... it's not really, but the way they say it implies that it's something you should be constantly doing to yourself/others. and hey! no! do not reality check yourself or other people, ever, even if they ask you to; this is not even a "dont do it if you're not a professional" cuz guess what? professionals don't do it either. that's NOT how you treat delusions or delusional people. just don't do it. i say this all the time, but when talking to a delusional person about their delusions, remain completely neutral.
they say at the end that "psychosis is more than just D/As" and yes because this type of delusion makes up an extremely small percent of people who live with psychosis. i think what they mean is psychosis is more than delusions, but i dont think they even know this themselves considering how much they use "psychosis" and "delusional" interchangeably through this thread.... If you're going to a psychosis professional to treat your delusions (which is something they recommend,) you will be very disappointed.
the end slide states that all of this is based off of information that they know themselves because they're professional diagnosed, studying psychology and also things they've asked multiple psychiatrists. i don't doubt that this is true, but almost all of the information here is inaccurate and really harmful if they/other people who've read this are actually putting it into practice. psychology is a huge field so them studying it really says nothing, and im pretty sure you’re not allowed to study things like this professionally (like in university) if you’re diagnosed as psychotic; and if you did that’s insanely unethical and also a horrible idea. psychiatrists often dont tell you much when they diagnose you with something, and most psychiatrists don't specialize in delusions either so their knowledge about them is extremely limited and probably very outdated.
conclusion: this person isn't lying on purpose or intentionally being harmful, but this information is not correct and could harm delusional people a lot.
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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years
Text
Gold Writing
Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When a charming, handsome stranger gives you inspiration for the first time in weeks, you try to guess what it is he’s famous for in exchange for his name. Warnings: none at all :) A/N: Just a little idea I’d been toying around with for a bit. Enjoy :)
Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​
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Disclaimer: Gif and picture not mine
It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year in New York City. Or so you’d been told, anyway. You had been living here for three months, tops; not really long enough to have a feel for the weather patterns. Either way, you were grateful for the sun’s rays coating your face, bathing you in their heat.
You turned your face away from the sky and down towards the sketchbook in your lap. It had been your hope that Central Park might inspire you, but you were still having artist’s block. It was at least better than being cooped up in your apartment all day. You didn’t really know anyone yet, save for your old friend who you had moved in next to. If it hadn’t been for them encouraging you, you probably never would have packed up and moved. They’d promised to introduce you to some people they knew, too, so you wouldn’t get lonely. Sadly, the scheduling never worked out.
And so, here you were, alone on a bench. Looking at all the couples and families and friends bustling and laughing around you, you thought you might be the only person all by yourself on this Saturday afternoon. Well, no, not the only one, you realized, spying a raven-haired man on a bench not too far away. His nose was buried in a book, a few locks of his shiny, dark hair falling out of his bun and framing his face. He looked familiar, but not in a "you knew him" sort of way. More in that you thought he might be famous somehow. No one else seemed to notice him, though.
You glanced back down at the empty pages, waiting to be filled by the strokes of your pencil. Then you looked back at the mystery man again, scooting a little closer to the end of your bench. Without really thinking about it, your deft fingers picked up your standard 2B pencil and began to sketch.
Starting with the sharp lines of his jaw, you moved onto his hair that intrigued you so. You don’t think you’d ever seen another person with hair that dark a color. Trying to get every last detail right, you kept glancing up and down. By the time you were onto the shading, you were certain that you had seen him somewhere before. The next time you glanced up, he was gone, and a frown settled on your features as you looked left and right, searching for the only subject to inspire you in days.
“It is a lovely drawing, darling,” a smooth baritone voice with a British accent said from behind you, “but I do not really think that is my best angle.”
You squeaked in surprise and dropped your sketchbook. The man somehow managed to reach out in front of you and catch it. He came to sit next to you, and as he walked around the bench, you realized just how tall he was.
“I think you dropped this,” he said with a charming smile, handing your sketchbook to you.
“I, uh, yeah. I did,” you stammered, hating how you couldn’t be as suave as him. Plus, he was unfairly good looking. “Thank you. And, um, sorry. About, you know, drawing you.”
“On the contrary, darling, there is no need to apologize. I am quite happy to have my likeness captured in such a flattering light,” he chuckled, taking off his sunglasses and revealing his brilliant blue-green eyes. “Really, I should be thanking you.”
With all the small details you were gathering, it felt like his name was on the tip of your tongue. Infuriatingly enough, you still couldn’t place it. You didn’t think he was a singer, that didn’t feel right. Though you did feel like his mesmerizing voice would be well suited to it. So, a well-known author, perhaps? He had been reading, after all. But you were woefully behind on your own reading list, so you had a feeling it wasn’t that either. You briefly wondered what even happened to the book he’d had; it was nowhere on him, almost like he’d stored it in some pocket of space.
“Oh,” you finally responded, nervously laughing. “You’re welcome, in that case. And thank you. For the compliments, I mean.”
“Ah, you are very welcome, too. It is not often I meet such a talented artist.” He somehow managed to sprawl out on the somewhat uncomfortable park bench, his long legs spread wide. It wasn’t indecent, exactly, but it somehow felt like it was. His arms were resting on the back of the seat so that, had you been leaning back, one of them would have been wrapped around your shoulder. “I do somehow find it hard to believe I was the most interesting thing in the vicinity, however. Though, I suppose I am rather flattered by that notion, too.”
His mischievous grin sent pleasant shivers down your spine. “Well, when inspiration strikes,” you anxiously chuckled with a shrug. Your nerves were still telling you he was about to get mad at any second.
“I do suppose that is true.” He cocked his head at you in the most adorable way. “Then I am honored to provide you with it.”
You suddenly felt even warmer than you had before, but you knew it had nothing to do with the sun anymore, but rather was from this enrapturing stranger. Though, this man’s smile certainly rivaled the sun.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” you began, “but you seem awfully familiar. You don’t happen to be famous, do you?”
“Oh, so you have not yet figured it out, then. I had been wondering. I suppose that, yes, I could be considered famous.”
When he didn’t say anything else, you continued, “Can I get a name then? I’m afraid I don’t really keep up with pop culture all that much.”
“Well, I suppose I could tell you my name.” His grin somehow grew to be even more mischievous. “But where is the fun in that? Besides, I am afraid you might start treating me differently if you knew.”
“Ok, that’s fair.” A spark of excitement lit behind your eyes as you got an idea and turned to face the captivating stranger. “How about this, I get three guesses about what it is you’re known for. If I get it right, you have to tell me your name. If not, then it can stay a mystery forever, if you want it to.”
“A most intriguing proposition. Alright, I accept. First guess?”
“Hang on,” you said, putting up your hand. “If I only get three guesses, I feel like it would be fair if I got to talk to you for a bit longer, at least. Unless I’m holding you up from something, of course.”
“I have time to spare, darling.” He stood up and offered you his hand. “Join me on a walk?”
An easy dialogue flowed between you as you strolled through the park. The way the light was illuminating his features made your hands itch to sketch him again. That reminded you to ask about his book, which he pulled out from seemingly nowhere.
“Hang on,” you said, getting your first idea. “Are you like a-a magician or a, um, an illusionist or something?”
“Well, it is interesting that you mention that. Magic is more a hobby than anything else,” he replied. “But not what I am known for, per se. Two guesses left.”
You frowned and flipped through the pages of the book he’d handed you. Hoping he’d made some kind of foolish error, you checked the covers for his name. No such luck. Absorbed in your hunt for clues, you weren’t paying attention to the world around you. Your companion suddenly grabbed you and jerked you to a stop. A ball whizzed past your head. If you’d kept walking, it surely would have hit you.
“You really should be more careful,” he playfully tsked. Then he grew more serious as he gently turned your head, checking for injuries. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling flustered from the attention of his piercing gaze. He also felt surprisingly cool for how warm out it was. You looked up at him and saw him raising his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe you. “I’m fine, really,” you added more convincingly. “Just my pride that’s wounded, I guess. But you stopped me in time. So, thank you.”
“It was no problem, darling,” he replied as you set off on the path again. “After all, I can’t have you getting hurt before you finish guessing, now can I?”
Again, you giggled, simultaneously loving and hating how he had that effect on you. “No, I guess not.”
“So, have you found whatever it is your looking for in my book?”
Glancing down at the page you had open, you saw it was the story of Rumpelstiltskin. How ironic. You tried to forge a connection between the book of fairytales and this man in your mind, but were coming up empty. Unless, of course, he was going to the source material for some reason, like he was preparing for a role.
“An actor!” you said, feeling sure you’d gotten it now. You’d definitely felt like you’d seen him on your TV screen before. Plus, he was definitely handsome enough for it. “That’s got to be it.”
“While I have appeared on television before, that is still incorrect, darling. One guess remaining.”
Oh how you wanted to wipe that smug yet ridiculously captivating grin from his face. Maybe with a kiss... Nope, no. That was ridiculous; you just met him. Besides, he was famous. Why on God’s green earth would he be interested in you as anything more than an entertaining encounter to pass the afternoon? So, you’d just have to do it with the right guess. You put your thinking cap on.
“Ok, well if you were on TV but aren’t an actor, maybe it was in an interview,” you thought out loud, gauging his reaction. You were excited, but also sad that your game was coming to a close. He’d surely leave after, whether you got it right or not. You supposed you could always try to look it up once you got home, if you couldn’t guess correctly. At least it would make for a fun story then. “I suppose there’s reality shows too, but that doesn’t quite seem your style. And, I guess you could be doing the interviewing—like a reporter or something—but that doesn’t sit quite right either. Sports! They televise sports. Plus I’m not really a fan, so I could believe I’ve heard of you but not totally recognize you. So, my final guess is athlete.”
“And you are certain that is your final guess?” He had a wonderful poker face and gave away nothing as to whether or not it was right. “Last chance to turn back.”
You appraised him, thinking he looked like he could be an athlete. And maybe it was some reverse psychology, trying to get you to abandon the correct guess. You didn’t really have any better ideas, anyway.
“Yes?”
“So sorry, but that is incorrect. And you are regretfully out of guesses, darling.”
“Of course it's not,” you sighed. He seemed genuinely saddened by how dismayed you seemed, so you perked up. “It was fun, though. So I, uh, I guess I won’t hold you up any longer.”
“You are correct; this was quite fun. Unfortunately, I do have another arrangement to get to,” he said in a way that made you believe he was actually upset over it. “How about that sketch that started this all, though? That one you made of me?”
“What of it?” you asked.
“May I buy it off of you?”
Your mouth formed a surprised little circle. “I mean, you can honestly have it for free. It is an unsolicited picture of you, after all. I wouldn’t feel right accepting your money for it.”
“Nonsense, I am only offering a small amount, anyway. Say, the price of a cup of coffee?”
You smiled at your feet as you caught onto what he was saying. It made your insides feel fuzzy. Maybe you wouldn’t accept, though. After all, you still didn’t know who he was. But if you were to go on a date, then certainly he would tell you.
“Sure,” you agreed. “I would love that.”
You tore out the sketch and handed it to him. In exchange, he gave you his card and said to call him to set a time and place. You glanced down at the small paper in your hands, not yet reading it. By the time you looked back up, he was already gone. With your handsome stranger nowhere to be found, you went to actually read his information. Unable to contain your surprise, not to mention shock at how foolish you were, you gasped, and your jaw hung open.
Gold writing on a green card held the secret you’d been trying to find the answer to all afternoon. Of course he was an Avenger, a hero. You ran your fingers over his name, a small smile forming on your lips. You quickly punched the contact into your phone and headed off in the direction of your apartment.
“Well, I’m glad this isn’t goodbye, Loki Laufeyson,” you mused to yourself, relishing in the way his name rolled off your tongue. “I’ll see you soon.”
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