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#maybe because i am NOT physically in the Place To Get Asked Questions
literaila · 4 months
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I'd love to request a reader who's obsessed with love languages (me fr) and is trying to figure out what peter's is without directly asking him
obviously r gets caught in the act
Thank you so much!!
-🔮
stalemate
tasm!peter x reader
warnings: teasing, fluff, complex relationship issues (lying)
a/n: i do believe peter’s love language is physical touch/words of affirmation but that’s a conversation for a different time
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*
“would you rather run errands with someone and hold hands, or run errands with someone and get kicked out of the store cause you’re ‘disturbing the other customers?’”
peter momentarily pauses his chewing, raising an eyebrow at you. “one of these scenarios involves me getting escorted out of the grocery store.”
“yeah, but because you’re having too much fun.”
he shakes his head. “no such thing.”
“clearly, there is.”
he rifles through the remainder of his food, like digging for gold, but his cheek is twitching, and his eyes are thoughtful as he looks down. “why cant i have fun and hold hands with you?”
“okay,” you point at him, leaning back. peter, though you’d put his food across the kitchen table, so you could sit face to face, was adamant that you were too far. so now there’s only a table corner separating the two of you. and these questions, of course, building up a careful foundation. “first of all, i didn’t say it was me—“
“who else would get us kicked out of a grocery store?”
“and second of all, because that’s not the question. holding hands or ribs-hurt laughing?”
“both of those sound equally painful,” peter keeps leaning towards you like he knows something you don’t. which he doesn’t.
you lean forward too, undeterred by his challenge. “so you’re a completely-silent-errand-running-with-a-healthy-five-foot-distance kinda guy?”
“we literally went shopping today.” peter gestures back to the kitchen, where bags of produce and sugary containers (peter’s pickings) remain. after dinner, you’d both swore, but you’re having a hard time finishing your food. “you know what kinda guy i am.”
so it goes, on and on. you asking peter the same type of hypothetical questions you’d been all day. he hasn’t seemed to question it, besides a couple of ill-fated looks.
and you do. know, that is. peter did almost get you kicked out of the store today, when he’d tripped over a sign and knocked down a whole shelf of boxes. this, he claimed, was the crime of a faulty layout. though, he’d bumped into the sign in the first place because he refused to let go of your hand, even when it was less than conscientious.
this, though, you don’t bring up.
“if i bought you a gift,” you continue, ignoring his carefully planned out bantering techniques. “would you want something expensive, or something heart-felt?”
“why is that a question?”
you stare at him, nonchalant, gesturing for him to continue.
“are you buying me a gift?” he asks, rolling his eyes at you.
“maybe. your birthday’s coming up.”
“it is november,” he says, dryly.
“good memory.”
peter snorts. “my birthday is in august. you know, like, two months ago?”
“hmm…” you lean your chin on a hand, staring into hard honeysuckle eyes with feigned confusion. “i must’ve missed it.”
“you got me a spider-man calendar.”
“don’t recall.”
“i can go get it,” he points over his shoulder, leaning, again, towards you. enough so that you can feel his breath, smooth and challenging. “it’s just in the bedroom.”
“answer the question.”
he sighs and leans back again, almost laughing. “heartfelt, obviously. like my very cherished spider-man calendar. which is for this year, i might add.”
“what a wonderful gift,” you smile too, adoringly, “you should thank whoever got it for you.”
peter furrows his brows, though not in confusion. “i did,” he says, softly, trying to break you.
but you remain where you are, smiling as cool as you’ve been all day.
which is to say, of course, that you’ve been dancing circles around peter and hoping that he hasn’t noticed.
you hadn’t even thought of it until two days ago, when out to lunch with your friend and she mentioned a book—fabled and probably recommended by some hot-shot magazine—about how to connect with your partner.
“love languages,” she’d said to you, “are the basis to every relationship.”
and this must have been true because despite a rough patch between her and her girlfriend, they were now as solid as always. and you could tell this, just from how at ease she’d seemed.
which, naturally, put you on edge.
not that you doubted peter, or your relationship with him. besides some run of the mill insecurities, peter was probably the loveliest person you’d ever met. so it was probably a bad thing that you had no clue—not a single suspicion, or thought—what his love language was.
thus, the questions began. and peter’s dubiousness doubled with every one you asked.
evident because he was still watching you. “are we acting out a scenario in which you need a visa and i agree to marry you?”
you kick him under the table. “what? i cant ask you questions?”
“i think this is the fortieth one today.”
“i’ve asked, like, three, and you haven’t even tried to answer any of them properly.”
“you know we’re in a real relationship, right? i know your favorite color and everything.”
you stand up from the table, grabbing your take-out container, and his, and walking to the kitchen.
peter trails after you, clearly noticing your evasion. “do you actually need a visa?” he asks, leaning against a counter, almost knocking over one of the grocery bags. “cause i think you’re supposed to tell the person you’re getting married to. so i can ask you some questions.”
“doesn’t seem like you’re having any problems with that.”
peter snorts and comes behind you while you grab something out of the first bag. his hands are warm as they wrap around your waist, resting on your stomach like a possession. “what’s up with you?”
“i’m unbagging the groceries.”
“you’ve been acting weird all day. do you need to talk to me about something?”
“no.” you pull away from him, putting some apples in the fruit bowl. “you’re crazy.”
“yes. i am the crazy one.”
you hum and walk around him, carefully not meeting his eyes.
after a couple minutes of this, with peter pretending to put things away, you break, uncomfortable with the silence.
“painting a room together,” you start, “or cuddling?”
peter pushes off of the counter, his teeth peaking behind his lips. “cuddling, obviously. you’re a terrible painter.”
he moves about a foot away from you, staring, again, like he knows something you don’t.
“what?” you ask him, closing a drawer. you cross your arms.
“nothing. nothing.”
but peter is grinning at you.
“what’s with your face?”
“what’s with yours?”
you roll your eyes at him, not moving. peter copies your stance, and the two of you remain as still as statues, testing one another.
finally, peter laughs. “you think i don’t know what you’re doing?”
“posing hypothetical questions?”
“i know what love languages are, baby,” peter steps closer to you. his hands just lingering by the seam of your shirt. “you’d make a terrible detective.”
despite the heat running through your body at being caught, you narrow your eyes at him. “me? it only took you all day to figure it out.”
“that’s cause i was giving you the benefit of the doubt. i thought you really wanted to know.”
“i do,” you cross your arms, bumping into him, offended. “i would’ve given up like three hours ago if i didn’t.”
“you’re crazy,” he says, simply. his look is amorous. “you could’ve just asked me.”
“no. i should know just from spending time with you. that’s couple 101.”
peter actually laughs. right in your face. he leans down, resting his chin against your head for support. “cant say i’ve ever taken that class.”
“well you should. it’s very informative.”
“okay, professor, then what’s my love language?”
you open your mouth. then close it. you push him back. “i’m not telling you.”
“oh,” peter tilts his head. “why not?”
“cause that’s cheating. figure out your own love language.”
“you think i don’t know what i like?”
“nope.”
peter shakes his head at you. “you just don’t know.”
“you just don’t know,” you poke his cheek. “you couldn’t even decide which cereal to get. we have three boxes now.”
“that’s called choice paralysis,” he informs you, as if you didn’t have this conversation earlier. “and you agreed to that.”
“sure,” you say to him, turning away.
“you’re a sore loser.”
“we’re not playing a game.”
“the elaborate ‘would you rather’ scheme wasn’t a game?” he asks.
“it was an informative questionnaire.”
peter gets in your way as you try to walk out of the kitchen. “then why hasn’t it informed you?”
you roll your eyes at him again. “c’mon, peter, you know that data can take weeks to process.”
he runs a hand up to your face, easily trapping you. “you just don’t know” he repeats softly.
he’s getting close again; resuming the game he’d lost earlier.
“you don’t know,” you say, stubbornly, not meeting his eyes.
“i know i like you,” he answers, breath marring your reaction skills.
and before you can even smile in response, peter is kissing you.
his lips are soft, pushing at you like he wants you to admit defeat. consoling you into a loss. convincing you to back down.
but you refuse.
you pull away, pushing his hand off of you. “that’s cheating.”
“we never set any rules.”
“well you’re breaking one.”
peter leans and let’s it go, crossing his arms as he looks at you, very arrogantly. “that’s okay,” he shrugs.
you attempt to catch your breath while peter stares at you, clearly thinking that he’s won.
“okay,” you say, pouting. “tell me. what’s your love language?”
peter smiles voraciously at this. he takes a step towards you, molding his body heat into yours.
then he shakes his head, his smile falling into something sweeter. “i don’t know,” he whispers to you, hand reaching down for yours, hair in his eyes. “physical touch, probably, before. but i like everything with you. i always want more, doesn’t matter what it is.”
you brush the hair out of his eyes, smiling.
though your intents are less than straightforward, there’s still a part of you that curls under this confession, like it just can’t take it.
“that’s sweet,” you whisper, leaning into him. he’s bent down so his nose is to yours.
peter hums, breathing in the smell of your skin, and pulling you closer and he stands there, lingering on the briefest of touches.
he tilts his head a bit, lips lined up with yours.
and you smile. “i’m not telling you mine,” you whisper to him, quickly pulling away and moving to the table, whistling as you do so.
you start to collect the trash you’d left there, hearing nothing for a moment, but peter’s heavy breathing.
you smile at the sound of his defeat.
“now that’s cheating,” he says, and you laugh.
*
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cozage · 9 months
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Hi hope you are having a good day
I wanted to know what would it be like if, Mihawk, Shanks and Buggy had a female s/o that was basically like inosuke from demon slayer, they are a bit dumb but will pick a fight with everyone, and they only wear a bandaged top with like shorts or smt.
You guys have been asking me lots of questions and making me feel loved so here is this!!! (And maybe more spicy things to come later this week 👀)
Characters: female reader x Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy Wordcount: 850 CW: the last bullet point in all of them that are a little spicy
She’s Kinda Stupid, but…
Mihawk
This man is literally so tired. He’s so tired. 
Will very often say things like “I didn’t know I was in charge of three children.” (yes Perona and Zoro are his CHILDREN okay) or “Are you acting your age today, or are we pretending you’re six years old again?” or “I’ve met dogs more behaved than you.” (it’s all coming from a place of love and he knows you won't take offense because you don’t take offense to anything)
You’re a brat and he knows it (and loves it). He loves you but god you are so much work when the two of you are out in public. He feels like he can’t take his eyes off you or you’ll end up in a fight with some random guy because he looked at you funny. 
Most of the time he doesn’t acknowledge your shenanigans. When you fight with someone, he’ll grab your wrist and physically pull you away from them, usually with some kind of snide remark. 
Sometimes you’re justified, though. And when that happens, he gives the guy who wronged you five seconds to apologize before he sets you loose. Most of the time the guy sees Mihawk and apologizes, but the swordsman secretly hopes the guy won't apologize. And on the few occasions they don't apologize, he smirks as he releases you. 
He always has to pull you off the guy because you just don't know when to stop. In all truthfulness, it kind of gets him hot and bothered, but he always pretends to be irritated. “You’re psychotic. Do I need to teach you how to behave?” he scolds, his gold eyes scanning your body. “I can think of a few ways to get you to listen.”
Shanks
Shanks adores you. Cheers you on. Loves watching you cause absolute chaos. Why? Because you are him without a conscience. 
Shanks knows when he needs to flip the switch from polite to fight, but you don’t. You are always at 100%, your most authentic self 24/7. And he absolutely adores that about you. Even if that means that sometimes you take it a bit too far. 
Sometimes Shanks will even use your emotions to his advantage. “Can you believe that guy just did that?!” or “Talk about rude!” knowing full well you’re ready to throw down whoever wronged you or him. 
The absolute only time that Shanks will stop you from fighting someone is when you all are in a building. He’s had to pay SO MANY owners back for you destroying glassware and furniture and plenty of other damaged goods. You learned pretty quickly that the first words out of your mouth should be “Wanna take this outside?!” because if you were outside then Shanks didn’t stop you. 
The first few fights, he watched carefully, making sure he would be able to jump in if he needed to. The next couple of fights, he watched you with an amused look, excited to see how you were going to beat up the guy (and just to make sure you would win). Nowadays, he doesn’t even feel the need to go outside with you, but sometimes he does just to cheer you on. 
After your victory, he always rewards you with a bunch of kisses and sings your praises. He pulls you onto his lap at the bar, making sure everyone knows you're his. “You did so well. I loved how you stomped that guy into the dirt,” he’ll coo, dotting kissing across your neck. “How about later I show you just how proud I am of you, okay?”
Buggy
You never cease in stressing this man out. He is always on high alert now because of you. 
Stealth missions? Forget it. Normal day in town? Absolutely not. He BEGS you to be a normal human being in public. To have an ounce of self preservation. But you cannot comprehend that. People who talk shit deserve to get hit.
He is constantly running after you, screaming at you to stop fighting people for no reason. Sometimes he’ll even jump in front of your punches to try and de-escalate it (which of course doesn’t work and results in you just punching him in the face). You don’t even feel bad, you just scream at him to get out of the way and beat up the other guy even more since he made you hurt your boyfriend.
If anyone makes fun of him, he doesn’t even have a chance to scream at them anymore. You’re already pounding their face into the ground. And every time you do, he falls in love with you a little bit more. 
“That’s right, that’s my baby!” he screams, watching you smugly walk away from some guy’s beaten body. “Let’s go celebrate, you can do whatever you want.” He grabs your hand, practically pulling you back to the ship.
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rottenaero · 11 months
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AO3
Part 1
Part 4
Part 6
Part 5 of the roommates idea
Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.
Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.
This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.
Basically, I wanna know if I should;
A.Post it on ao3 as is
B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)
C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)
I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.
This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.
After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.
Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.
Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.
Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.
“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”
He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”
“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”
He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.
“Lets go, nerds”
-
Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.
One of his kids were gonna die.
Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse
Eddie was being hunted.
Two more students have been murdered.
He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.
They were royally fucked.
“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”
Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.
“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”
The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.
“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”
“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.
“Where are you?”
“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”
Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.
“I’m driving.”
She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.
-
“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”
“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”
Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”
“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.
“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”
Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.
“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”
“Right, but you like him like that, though?”
“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.
Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.
“See? You little butthead, I was right.”
Theres a rustle of leaves and then,
“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”
Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.
“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.
“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”
The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”
His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”
“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.
He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.
“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”
Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”
He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”
“9:27…”
“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.
Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”
“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”
Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.
“Skull Rock was North.”
“An electromagnetic field.”
“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”
Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?
“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”
And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.
“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”
He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.
“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.
“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”
Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.
It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.
“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”
Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”
Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.
He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”
Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”
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monzabee · 7 months
Text
sunday blues – ms47 (+18)
masterlist || part 1 || part 2 ||
Summary: The one where Mick helps you the best way he knows when you’re feeling insecure.
Pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: angst, crying, cursing, fluff, insecurities and self-depreciating thoughts, smut, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), google translate german, praise words, minors dni!!
Request: “Hello! I am so obsessed with your recent fic with Mick and Seb's daughter, so I was wondering if you could write something where she is feeling very insecure and stressed and he just kind of helps her through her feelings, maybe something smutty to show her how much he lovers her body or something?👀”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this request has been sitting in my inbox for longer than i’d like to admit, but i’m so happy i got it done! it’s been a while since i wrote smut so if it doesn’t make sense i sincerely apologise, but as always thank you to the anon for the request and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
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Mick didn’t expect to find you the way he did when he was leaving your flat to take Angie on her morning walk, he really didn’t – because when he was leaving this morning, after having kissed you goodbye while you were still asleep, everything seemed fine. And although he is not the one to stress in these type of situations, his mind automatically goes to the worst possible scenario when he comes home to you crying on your couch in your bathrobe. So he does the expected, he asks whether you hurt yourself – the answer is no. Did something happen to anyone from your family? Nu-uh. Is it social media related? Nope. Did someone physically did something to you? No Mick, you locked the door before you left the house.
Every possible question that comes to his mind being met with a negative answer from you has him perplexed to say the very least, so he takes a seat next to you and offers what he’s sure will put you in a better mood; cuddles. With you in his arms and Angie on your lap, you do feel better, but he makes sure to ask any other possible option that comes to his mind.
“Did you try to bake cookies again?” His voice wanders off, his fingers running through the ends of your braid.
You lightly punch his arm, and then return your attention back to petting Angie as you pout and mumble out, “My cookies were not burnt, they were lightly toasted.”
He lets out a sigh, and after pressing numerous kisses to your hair to coax you, he gently raises your chin up for you to meet his eyes. “I give up, please just tell me what’s bothering you, hase.”
There’s a fresh wave of tears accumulating in your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks, and it absolutely makes his heart clench. You lightly push yourself out of his arms, careful not to disturb the dog sprawled on both of you guys’ lap, “Nothing, you’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No I won’t,” he promises, fighting you in order to gather you back into his arms, but you’re not above fighting dirty – meaning using your nails to keep him away. “Are–” He takes a moment to pause and clear his throat, “Are you on your period?”
Mick watches as your lips part and a sound of indignation break free from the back of your throat. Without bothering Angie too much, you turn in your place to swat at his chest as you hiss, “You are an ass, Mick.”
“Bu– I didn’t mean –” He scrambles to get out, but you’re already walking towards your bathroom, and all he can do is watch you walk away from him. This time, his eyes meet Angie’s, and he can swear his dog is giving him the biggest side-eye known to mankind, but he can only breath out a, “I messed that one up big time, didn’t I?”
Angie gets up from his lap to walk towards the bedroom. Mick soon follows closely behind towards the bathroom.
You can hear his knocks and a faint Can I come in?, through the closed bathroom door, but as you try to tame the mess that is your hair, you call out to him, “No!” And because Mick is a gentleman, and arguably the best boyfriend in the universe, he actually waits outside the bathroom. Eventually, though, you feel bad making him wait outside by the door and with a final glance in the mirror, you stomp a few steps and push the bathroom door open, revealing Mick's concerned face.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, but before he can continue with the rest of his sentence, you cut him off with yet another swat of your hand to his chest and another fresh wave of tears.
“I am not, and I repeat – not, on my period.” With a final hit to his chest, you walk back to your previous spot in front of the sink and try to brush the knots in your hair.
Wincing at the way you’re aggressively dragging the brush through your hair, Mick walks towards you to stand behind you at the sink and gently takes the brush out of your hand. “Here, let me do it.” And though you don’t want to admit, he’s gentle yet successful as he brushes your hair out for you. With his eyes occasionally drifting to watch you over the bathroom mirror, he dutifully manages to finish brushing your hair, and soon after you are back in his arms as he wraps them around your middle. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”
You shake your head with another sniffle, “It’s not important.”
“Hase, please,” he practically begs as his attention is drawn to your puffy eyes, “it is important if you’re still crying over it.”
With a guilty look on your face and an apprehensive voice that absolutely breaks his heart, you mumble, “You really want to know?” This time it is you who is meeting his eyes through the mirror to see him nod sheepishly, and as you occupy yourself with his fingers you find yourself mumbling again, “My, uh, my boobs are too small.”
“Your what, is what?” Mick stammers in surprise, blinking at the unexpected confession. His expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his fingers tangle themselves with yours. “Hase, are you serious?”
You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassed by your own admission. “Yes, and don’t call me that.”
“What?” With more confusion he stammers out, “I– I thought you liked it, it’s cute.”
He watches you let out a soft whimper, and then throw your head back against his chest in frustration. After sniffling and, yet, another fresh wave of tears, which Mick quickly wipes away as he keeps his gaze locked to yours, “I’m not supposed to be cute.”
“Oh?” he asks, “And what are you supposed to be, then?”
“I don’t know!” The sudden sob breaking out from the back of your throat has his eyes widening in surprise, and also concern – but for the first time that morning, you seem to be talking about what’s been wrong, so he has no intention to interrupt you. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore! I can’t be too perfect or too flawed, too confident or too uncertain; people have opinions and they are not afraid to voice them, so I end up feeling not enough for the majority of time.” Mick’s hold tightens around as you let out a particularly violent sob, “And my boyfriend has bigger boobs than me!”
Mick's eyes widen in both surprise and disbelief as your last sentence tumbles out, and for a moment, there's a pause in the air as he processes your words. “So you’re sad, because you think your boobs are not big enough?”
“Well yeah,” you mumble, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his gaze. “I told you you’d think it’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Mick announces, “everybody gets insecure sometimes; what I don’t understand is why on earth you would compare yourself like that.” Mick's fingers gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, and he turns you towards himself to lift your chin up, “You’re perfect the way you are, hase.”
You let out a shaky breath, his words slowly starting to sink in. “I just don’t want to feel like this all the time.”
“I know, darling,” he coos and then offers you a gentle smile, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your cheek. “You’re perfect, you hear me? My perfect girl, hm?” He ignores a whiny objection in the form of you dragging out his name. “The kindest,” he leans in towards you, “and the smartest,” then presses his lips against your forehead, “the most beautiful girl inside and out.”
“Micki,” his names comes off from your lips in a whispery sigh, your head turning sideways as his nose nudges your jaw. His warm breath tickles your skin as he continues to nuzzle against your jaw, his lips brushing over your skin in gentle, feather-light kisses. His lips stretch when you let out a soft giggle, “It tickles.”
Mick's lips curve into a playful smile against your jaw, and he continues to pepper your skin with those feather-light kisses, this time intentionally causing a cascade of giggles from you. His touch is tender, his affection evident in each sweet gesture.
“It does, doesn't it?” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he moves his kisses to your cheek.
You squirm slightly in his embrace, the ticklish sensation mixed with delight. “Baby, stop,” you manage to say between giggles, even as your fingers find their way to his sides, retaliating with a gentle poke.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” With a final loving peck to your cheek, Mick relents and holds you closer to himself as your giggles slowly subside. As your giggles subside, Mick tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with tenderness, lock onto yours, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Feeling better?” he asks softly.
After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you give him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll be fine, Micki, I promise.” Ignoring the look he gives you, which tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say, you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being here, you know?”
“Of course, hase,” he mumbles in thought, the material of your robe feeling soft under his touch as he lets the cogs turn in his head. With his eyebrows furrowing, he grabs you by the waist and raises you up to sit you on the bathroom counter. “On the second hand, I think I need to show you just how much I appreciate you, hm?” Ignoring yet another objecting sound from your lips, he places a kiss on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck, and moves his kisses down until he’s met with your robe again. With a playful glint in his eyes, he lets his fingers work the knot of your robe’s belt.
His eyes widen as his brain registers the fact that you are not wearing anything underneath the robe, and you reply to his flabbergasted look with an innocent shrug of your shoulders as you give him the excuse, “I was about to take a shower before I… well, had a moment.”
You watch as a string of expletives leave his lips, and he needs to take a moment to recover as he mumbles, “Guter Gott.” Though, as your breathy giggles bring him back to the present, he pushes your robe off your shoulders in a quick move, and you realise there is a much darker look in his eyes when your eyes meet again, “And you think my girls are not enough.”
Before you can answer, his hands are quick to grab your breasts as he gives them a firm squeeze, causing you to forget whatever clever comeback you had and instead let out a shallow exhale. “They’re small,” you complain, but he is quick to shut you down by pinching your left nipple between his two fingers – not enough to make it actually hurt, but enough to shock you into shutting up and letting out a small yelp instead.
“Stop talking,” the sharper undertone of his voice has you biting the corner of your bottom lip in anticipation, but his eyes soften as he looks at the bewildered look on your face. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he fixes you with his stare as his hands go back to gently handling your breasts, “I’m going to fuck you in front of this mirror so that you can see just how beautiful you are, and you’re not going to say a word unless it’s a moan or telling me to stop.”
With a slacked jaw you stare at your boyfriend, your sweet Mick who is soft and treats you as if you’re a china doll most of the time. But now, he looks at you with a stern look in his eyes, and the fact that they are a few shades darker than their normally baby-blue colour tells you that he means business. “Can you kiss me first?” Your voice is breathy, because everything about Mick makes it harder to breath harder, and the corner of his mouth rise in a small smirk as his brain registers the desperation in your voice. “Please.”
“How can I not when my pretty girl is being so well-mannered?” He watches as you straighten up in your place, which causes you to come closer to his face and he lets out a low chuckle. “Patience, baby,” he moves his hands to cup your face and his thumbs gently caress the tops your cheeks. He teases you by dipping his head until his lips are touching yours, and he lets out another chuckle when you chase his lips when he slightly pulls away. But deciding to alleviate you from your pain, he finally presses his lips against yours – though his kiss is nothing like his soft touch from mere moments ago.
His tongue explores your mouth as if he hasn’t kissed you a million times before, but his kiss is as bruising as they come. He draws all kinds of noises from you, with a single kiss, and it would be concerning how much you lose yourself in him if it wasn’t too good. You manage to nip at his lower lip just as he is starting to pull away.
“Gut sein,” he mumbles, the small (but accomplished) smile on your lips bringing a smile to his own. “Now, what do you say to me for the kiss, hm?”
Be good, he says – you can totally do that. His lips move down to your jaw to then your neck, and your lips form a perfect ‘O’ when he starts nipping and sucking on your skin. “Thank you for the kiss, Micki,” you mumble breathily, your hands grabbing his forearms to move his hands from your face back onto your breasts. He lets an appreciative hum as his hands go back to fondling the skin under his hands, which elicits a louder moan from your lips, “Oh, that feels good.”
Mick’s reply comes in the form of another hum as he keeps on sucking hickeys, which will undoubtedly make you complain to him tomorrow, but the way he handles you is enough to convince you not to care. After he’s satisfied with handiwork; he pulls back from your neck to only dip his head more to take one of your nipples to his mouth while his hand is busy groping the other breast, causing you to weave your fingers through his hair to press him closer to your chest. His ministrations, combined with his intention of marking up your chest as he did your neck has you ending up as a whimpering mess on the bathroom counter, calling out Mick’s name to do something more in hopes of him keeping his promise. His voice is husky as he asks, “Now do you believe me?”
Your hands are on him the second he pulls away and his breathing is a mess while you scramble to get off his shirt; your hands gliding across his chest down to the start of his running shorts he has from his morning run, and he has to restrain himself from letting out a groan as you sit in front of him with wide eyes and lips that are pink from all the biting. You voice is also husky as you answer his question with one of your own, “Are you going to fuck me now, liebste?”
He smiles sweetly at your attempt of trying to take back the reigns, and he tries to appear in though as he slowly pulls you off the counter. “In a second, I have to check something first.” He quickly turns you around to face the mirror, where you watch his hand’s movements as it slides from your waist down to the front of your sleeping shorts. The gasp that leaves from between your lips causes his sweet smile to morph into something more mischievous, and you catch his smirk on the mirror in front of you as he lets his fingers feel the wetness between your legs. “You’re soaked, hase, I think you’re more than ready.”
“Yes, please,” your voice comes off in a whimper as you slip your hand behind you to palm the bulge that presses onto your back through the material of his shorts that hang lower on his hips. You let out another moan when his fingers make their way towards your clit, which is his way of reminding you of who’s in charge – and it’s most definitely not you given the fact that you almost topple over the counter when he presses his fingers with slightly more pressure. You hear him let out a low groan when you move your hand slightly, but his fingers continue their movements which causes you to let out small mews of pleasure.
After he pulls his fingers out of your short, and consequently makes a show of licking them clean that leaves you quite literally panting with need. Smirking at your reaction, he taps the outside of your upper thigh, “Spread your legs, baby, watch me on the mirror, hm?” He makes sure to place your hands on the countertop after he’s done taking of the remainder of your clothing and underwear. A part of you is sure he’s secretly enjoying the attention and how good you’re being as you silently watch him ges out of his own shorts and underwear. “You ready?”
“Mhm-hm,” you mumble as you nod quickly and gather your hair on one of your shoulders.
Mick presses his lips on your bare shoulder as he grabs your waist with one of his hands, grabs the base of his cock with his free hand and guides it between your legs – a gasp leaves your lips as the tip of his cock presses into you. He’s slow as he guides the rest of his cock into your pussy, and you drag out his name under your breath. “So good,” he murmurs as his hand joins his other one on your hip, and he tries to keep his hips still to give you an opportunity to get used to it, “always feel so good for me.”
Your hands grab the marble tighter as the stretch has you wanting to just press your hips backwards against his, “Move, Micki, please.”
He meets your eyes through the mirror and chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby,” he repeats his words from before – but he obliges you nonetheless, as he pushes in all the way in a move that knocks all the breath out of your lungs. He is slow as he starts moving his hips in a steady rhythm. But soon he picks up the rhythm, and every snap of his hips to yours has you becoming more and more of a whimpering mess. His eyes capture your blush that is painting your cheeks and he lets his eyes wander lower where it has started to move towards your chest, which he’s more than welcome to adore the view of your breasts moving with every move his hips makes.
The moans that rip from the back of your throat become louder, stronger and more demanding as Mick decides to thrust himself deeper into you – a sweet reminder that you’ll definitely be feeling him for the rest of the day and all of tomorrow. You can’t seem to form sentences with words other than more, please and various forms of his name, but he grants you what you want when one of your hands leave the counter to pull him in for a kiss. It’s messy and rushed, but it leaves you lightheaded as you find yourself begging for more when he pulls away. “No, no, I want more,” a high-pitched whine begs, and you drag out the next word, “please.”
Mick lowers his head enough for his lips to be level with your ear. “Look into the mirror, hase,” his breath hits your skin, and he rewards you with a sweet smile, “you see what I see?”
“I don’t see you giving me another kiss,” you grumble, but quickly stop rebutting when his hips deliver a rather sharp push, “fuck, that feels good.”  
“Look how beautiful you look,” he pants, his laboured breath hitting your ear, “the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You’re sure your skin will be bruised from the way his fingers grabs onto your hips – not that it would look out of place with other parts of your body he’s already marked you on. “And you say you’re not enough, God, hase.”
Your hand snakes its way from his neck towards his hair as your fingers thread through his locks. “I need more, Micki, please.”
But unfortunately for you, Mick has every intention of  ignoring your pleas. “Do you know why I call you hase?” Between the haze of him fucking you into the counter and his breathy words, you manage to give him a weak shake of your head. “It’s because I love seeing your tits when you’re bouncing on my cock.” To accentuate his point, he holds your hips in place as he delivers sharper thrusts.
“I thought it was because of the way I scrunch my nose,” you gasp while pulling at his hair. Though it is not exactly the part he chooses to focus on – instead, he watches as your already blushed cheeks become a deeper shade. Another gasp, this time laced with a louder moan, is ripped from you when he continues the sharper movement of his hips, “I– Mick, right there!”
“Shh, I got you,” he soothes your moans as he stills the movement of his hips for a minute to hike your left leg to rest it on the counter and then grabs the hand you have raised up to do the same, “hang on for me, okay?” He watches as you give him a tentative look through the mirror as he wraps his arm across your middle to reach for your clit as he harshly pushes himself back into you.
Combined with his thumb applying pressure onto your clit and the way he’s filling you up once again causes you to moan his name louder than before. “I’m not going to last,” the whiny words leave your lips before you can stop them, and he gives you a smirk as his fingers quicken their pace, “fuck, Micki, just like that.”
Lost in the pleasure building up in your lower stomach, you don’t realise his free hand moving up to cup your breast until he’s pinching your nipple between his fingers to draw out another moan from your lips, which sounds more like a scream because of all the please you’re feeling. “Do you see how beautiful you are? Look at yourself, baby.”
“Please Mick,” you let out a moan meddled with a sob as you watch your reflection in the mirror – the way your body is shaking with every movement of his hips and the way his front is pressed into your back, the disheveled look of your sweaty hair, and the way your wide eyes accompany your blushed cheeks, “make me come, please, I’m so close.” Your words must’ve acted as a source of motivation, since he quickens the pace of his hips and presses his thumb more as he continues the steady movements, which has you chanting out nothing but praises and a string of yes, yes, yes, yes.
Regardless of the condom he’s wearing, Mick can tell when you’re close as you clench around him, and he urges you to let go by mumbling into your skin, “It’s okay, hase, let it go.” And who are you to not give your boyfriend what he asks of you? So he’s there to guide you through your release while you sink your nails into his biceps to still yourself. He’s not far as he reaches his own peak and spills into you, which pulls yet another moan from you as you also hear his loud groan – a sound you’ll never get sick of hearing. You gasp lightly when he eventually pulls out of you; though when he sees the tired smile you give through the mirror (and yes, maybe he does call you hase because you do scrunch your nose while smiling), he responds with one of his own as he presses small kisses to your hairline, “There’s my smile.”
“I love you,” your raspy voice whispers, and suddenly you’re lost once again in the way he’s looking at you – a habit you’ll gladly keep.
“I love you too,” he responds, his nose nuzzling your jaw before giving you a sweet kiss, and it makes him chuckle lightly when you’re chasing his lips once again when he pulls away. “Come on, now we both need a shower.” The sounds of your giggles when he picks you up to get both of you into the shower, and as you hid your face in the crook of his neck you hear him mumble, “Mein hübsches mädchen.” My pretty girl.
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toournextadventure · 4 months
Text
everyone but her pt.37
Summary: Wednesday knows, without a doubt, that you weren't the suspect everyone thought you were. And your date nights were getting rather interesting, but she's not entirely convinced about this new date idea.
Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, grief, past trauma, child abuse (in the past) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)
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“Don’t even think about it.”
Wednesday sighed and pulled her hand back from the bag you were refusing to let her carry. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because you were being chivalrous. It was the second week after your therapist had gone missing, and you were still upset with her. She didn’t like it.
“I have already apologised,” she said as she walked behind you. “What more do you want from me?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you said in a faux sing-song voice that she had heard you use with Ash before. “Maybe to have my girlfriend not assume I’m stupid enough to kill my therapist?”
“No one has claimed you were stupid,” she said.
“And yet no one has agreed that I wouldn’t kill my therapist,” you finished a little too quickly.
She followed behind you, trying to open the door but you wouldn’t move aside for her. Instead, you turned the doorknob with your elbow after more than a few failed attempts and entered the apartment. At least Wednesday had the opportunity to close the door behind you both.
“No one believes you killed him,” she said as she tried to help you put up groceries. All it took was one look before she stepped back. If you were determined to be so stubborn, then she was determined to let you.
“Oh yeah?” You said; you practically threw the apples into the fruit drawer. “Because Bianca didn’t seem too disbelieving of it.”
“Bianca is ignorant,” she said quickly. “Additionally, she never claimed it was you, simply questioned your whereabouts.”
You threw the milk into the fridge next; Wednesday would need to make sure you didn’t bust the container. “Which I specifically told you before I left the apartment.”
Wednesday wasn’t foolish. Even though she truly felt you were being absurd, she was not foolish enough to continue the argument when you became so agitated. When you placed your hands on your hips and furrowed your brows. She would never claim to be an expert at reading physical cues, but she certainly knew yours. Or at the very least, she knew yours well enough.
“Anger metre?” She asked.
“Immeasurable.” You sighed and looked down at the floor. “An 8.”
Your hands fell from your hips rather pathetically. It was a look Wednesday hadn’t seen since those years at Nevermore. Back when you were a little too nervous to talk to her like you did now. She remembered it vividly; every time you would try to talk back, she would shut you down, and you would stand there awkwardly like a scolded puppy before walking off.
It almost warmed her cold heart to see you hadn’t grown out of it.
“Am I really that untrustworthy?” You asked; your voice was soft. Horrifically so. “Do people really think I would kill someone?”
Wednesday wasn’t prepared for an emotional conversation. She had been attempting to get you to relax about the accusations, but she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could come of it. A foolish thing, she knew; you were becoming more open about your feelings when they upset you so terribly. It was something she had encouraged in you even though she had never truly thought to grow with you in that regard.
There was no better time than the present, she presumed.
“Can we-,” she sighed, blinking twice before looking back at you, “-can we continue this in the living room?”
You raised a brow and tilted your head.
“You’re letting all the cold air out,” she said.
You frowned before your eyes slowly grew larger. It only took a moment before you shut the door to the fridge, stopping the incessant warning beep that came more often than not when you were in the kitchen. She thought back to when it had started; she had lied to you about the electric bill staying steady after you had panicked. Clearly you took bills more seriously than she had previously thought.
After hearing that it was okay, you hadn’t intentionally left the fridge open each time. It was simply how you were; getting distracted, finally free of the constant nagging and worry about the bills. Yes, Wednesday should have known you would be hyper-aware of such a thing, but she hadn’t imagined you would lose your focus that quickly.
“Come on,” you said quietly, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her into the living room.
Your hand was warm in hers. Even after all this time, after so much physical contact with you, your body heat would surprise her. There was no reason, she had grown accustomed to it long ago. Whether it was simply your hand in hers, your hand pressed against the small of her back, or your body curling around hers at night. You were warm, almost painfully warm, and it was sensational.
Wednesday sat on the couch opposite you, turning just enough to face you. On the other side, you crossed your legs on the couch, looking like an overgrown child. Or she supposed it was more reminiscent of a rather large dog not understanding quite how large they were. Behind you, your wings strained against the confines of not only the loosened harness, but the jacket you had yanked on earlier in the day.
“Do you think I would kill someone.” It wasn’t so much a question anymore; any hesitancy in your voice had long faded. “Be honest.”
Yes. Yes, she did believe you would kill someone. She remembered the fear and anger in your eyes back at Nevermore when that rogue werewolf had gone after you and Eugene. If it had gone after Eugene, you would have killed it without a moment’s hesitation. Add on to that the looks she had seen you give others who attempted to harm - whether emotionally or physically - any of your friends? Yes, she believed without question that you would kill someone.
But not, however, without reason.
“No,” Wednesday lied effortlessly.
“So you believe I didn’t do it?” You asked. “There’s no doubt in your mind that I’m innocent?”
“In this instance, yes.”
Your shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. There was an unusual relationship surrounding the both of you and your criminal proclivities. While you wouldn’t fault the other for their activities, you were both incredibly willing to tell the other one if they’re guilty. For instance, you had acknowledged her grave digging scandal from last year. Not with shame, but admiration. On the other hand, she would not hesitate to remind you of your underage, international murder scandal.
It was an exceptionally beautiful relationship.
“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” You asked, doe eyes looking up at her through your eyelashes. A faux innocence that did wonders for Wednesday’s imagination.
She shifted in her seat and inhaled deeply. “I taught you better than to leave evidence behind.” You snorted with laughter. “Leaving behind an entire foot is an amateur move at best.”
“And here I thought you’d say I was too kind for murder,” you said. 
Wednesday would have been content to allow the conversation to end as it was. As long as you believed she had faith in your innocence, there wasn’t much else to say. Your anger had appeared to dissipate and there was no need to dwell on the topic. After all, as long as she believed you, could you really be all that upset?
But you still didn’t move from your spot. In fact, you didn’t even move to grab the remote, or to put on some sort of noise in the background of the usual apartment noises. You simply sat there, legs crossed, playing with your fingers. Dread welled up in Wednesday’s chest; she knew those mannerisms.
“So,” you started, drawing the word out long enough for Wednesday to feel not only dread, but pure horror. “Wanna hear my new date idea?”
She sat up straighter, eyes moving around the apartment for nothing in particular. Oh. Well, that wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.
You waited for her to nod once. “Remember when I visited Nicky for Christmas?” She nodded again. “Well, I think I remembered something.”
Another pause as you recollected your thoughts.
“He had this notebook,” you held your hands out like you were holding the object, “or I guess it was a journal.” Your hands squeezed into fists. “He wrote everything in it, and I need to go find it.”
“Why would you need a journal?” She asked.
You sighed. “I think he wrote about everything our parents did and I just- I- I need to know.” Your pupils were blown. “I have to know what happened in that house.”
Wednesday still said nothing.
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you said, “and I need to know what happened before I lose my fucking mind.”
The skin on your knuckles paled as you continued to ball your hands into fists. Even as her outward demeanour remained the same, Wednesday felt the effects of her heart rate increasing. She hadn’t needed Enid to explain what panicking was, though this was getting dangerously close to falling off the ledge of “panic” and into the pool of “desperation.”
If it had been anyone but you, she would have felt humiliated as she so-eagerly reached out to place one of her hands on top of yours. Her small, cold hand couldn’t cover your entire fist. Yet that didn’t seem to matter when she felt the tendons in your hand ease up, and you quickly turned it over until you could lock fingers with hers.
She would never admit such a thing aloud, at least not to anyone but you, but her chest warmed when she was the cause for your relief. It wasn’t the same warmth she felt for selfish reasons; it was vastly different from when she beat Bianca at a game of wits. This was more encompassing, more… more.
“How does that relate to your date idea?” Wednesday asked.
You looked up at her through your lashes again, though your smile was far more mischievous than earlier.
“Wednesday Addams,” you said in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “would you like to commit a B&E with me this weekend?”
Now that. That was wholly deserving of her own matching smile. You certainly knew the way to an Addams’ cold heart.
—---
It didn’t take long for Wednesday to realise just how long you had been planning this “date,” or at least something similar.
“They’re never home on weekends,” you said when you dropped the both of you into the yard. “They’re always either at the Catskills, or schmoozing their way through the Senate.”
She admired the way your wings tucked against your back. As much as she hated flying, she wouldn’t deny her fascination with the appendages, especially after the fact. Only when they were still could she see the muscle underneath the feathers and skin; muscle that had to be incredibly dense if they could carry you and her without a larger wingspan.
Maybe it was time she strapped you down and studied your musculature again. Clearly you had grown since the last time.
“There’s a risk doing this in broad daylight, is there not?” Wednesday asked when you stopped underneath a window.
You shook your head without looking away from the house. “Everyone in the area is still sleeping off their hangovers.”
“Cameras?”
“Fake.” You finally looked at her, a certain glimmer in your eye that had Wednesday’s stomach twisting into knots. “They always said just the belief someone was being watched was enough of a deterrent.”
“A foolish mistake,” Wednesday mumbled to herself.
“But helpful for us,” you said with a smile. “The window goes to my room,” you said, locking your fingers together to create a makeshift step. “I’ll hop in after you.”
“Silent alarms?” She asked as she placed her hands on your shoulders to steady herself. Your muscles shifted underneath your shirt when you started raising her closer to the window.
“Nope,” you said. “They rely on their fake security cameras and Eddy.”
“Who?” Wednesday asked, her hands stilling on the outside lock of the window. She adored you for saving the lock for her to pick.
“Our security guy,” you said. “He’s sweet, but shit at his job.”
The use of the word “our” did not escape Wednesday’s attention as she pulled herself through the now-unlocked window. It wasn’t often that you would lump yourself into the same group as your parents. More often than not, you attempted to distance yourself as much as possible, even going so far as to call them by their first names. Though she supposed, at the end of the day, they were still your parents no matter what they said or did. You loved too deeply to eliminate them completely.
For the sake of easing her curiosity, she slowly made her way around your room even as the gentle flap of your wings could be heard outside the window. The room itself reminded her of her own room back at Nevermore. Almost no personal items, nothing indicative of who you were. The only thing that would indicate anyone had even lived in the room was a singular photo in a frame; a photo of you and Nicky on a sailboat in a time long forgotten.
“Ready?” You asked over the sound of the window sliding shut. “It’s a quick trip down the hall, unless they moved everything to dad’s office.”
There was an air about you as you crossed the room. After Nicky, you had tended to roam, seemingly without any direction. If someone said jump, you would ask how high. But this was different; you looked like you had a mission and there was a clear physical determination in the set of your shoulders and the glint in your eye.
Wednesday reached out to grab your arm. Your muscles were taut, but quickly relaxed when you looked down at her. She hadn’t forgotten what you were both there to do; she was more than aware of the desperation you kept hidden behind a cocky smile.
It did nothing to ease the growing affection she had for you in that moment. Breaking and entering was a good look for you.
All it took was one firm tug on your arm to pull you down to face level. She simply had to lean forward slightly to kiss you. You were always like putty in her hands when she kissed you. In those moments, she swore you would have done anything she asked, no consideration required. It gave her a sense of control that you so often inadvertently took away.
When she pulled away - though, surprisingly, hesitantly - your eyes fluttered before opening fully. Her amazement at your reaction to her never eased over the days. Back at Nevermore, she had fully believed her body would become accustomed to how you reacted; she had never been so grateful to be wrong.
“If only my parents knew I just kissed a woman in their house,” you said softly, your words tumbling from your lips faster than normal. “They would die from shock.”
Wednesday ignored the flutter of her heart. “Lead the way so we can go home.”
“Yes ma’am,” you said with a tip of your invisible hat.
You manoeuvred your arm until you could hold her hand, pulling her after you on the way out of your room. Not the best way to stay inconspicuous, but Wednesday had become rather fond of the way her hand felt in yours, so she wouldn’t dare pull away.
The both of you peeked around the doorframe, looking both ways before exiting your room. The house was far too pristine for Wednesday’s liking. How could a family reside in a house with so little belongings? Where was the tapestry of history hanging from the walls? The artefacts that belonged to generations past to symbolise where you came from? Instead they were bare walls, minimalist in a way that even she found tasteless.
It only took a few steps down the hall before you attempted to open the door. The doorknob jiggled, but wouldn’t turn. With a sigh, you pulled Wednesday closer until she had full access to the lock. She was more than aware that you knew how to pick a lock; you had practiced it for weeks after she had mentioned it. But she appreciated your allowing her to have all the fun.
The lock was child’s play; your parents may have been intelligent, but they didn’t appear to take security very seriously. You pulled her with you into the room before turning and closing the door quietly, the click of the lock almost inaudible. She felt the cold air hit her palm as you pulled your hand away.
“Look for a journal,” you said. “A leather one with a black string tied around it.”
You didn’t wait for her to acknowledge your statement before digging around the room. And as much as Wednesday wanted to help, she couldn’t help but watch you. There was a gentleness to your rushed movements, almost as if you were worried you would break something. She knew you still grieved for Nicky even if you didn’t outwardly show it. His items were sacred to you in a way few things were.
“You okay?” You asked, and Wednesday was faced with the humiliation of getting caught staring.
“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound as uninterested as possible. Unfortunately for her, you had broken her emotionless facade years ago.
Unlike your room, Nicky’s held some semblance of life. Select baseball cards were put in small plastic cases and propped up on the dresser. Under his bed was shoebox after shoebox, filled to the brim with comics, toy cars, marbles, and a menagerie of random Lego pieces. Toys that had been absent from your room.
“I can’t find it,” you said once you finished looking through every inch of the closet. “Just his stupid, stuffy clothes.”
Wednesday was kind enough to ignore the jacket you quickly tied around your waist.
“You mentioned it might be in your father’s office,” she said.
You sighed. “I guess I always did want to see what he hid in there.”
You didn’t grab her hand before leaving the room; she was thankful you couldn’t see her frown at the realisation. But she was quick to follow, closing the door as softly as you had. The new wooden flooring was a blessing, being far too new to make a sound when you snuck down the hall.
The hall opened up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. A large grandfather clock was almost directly below, tick tick ticking away; Wednesday couldn’t imagine hearing the sound every single hour of your life. The marble flooring was beautiful with its golden veins, though it was far from her sense of style. It all looked beyond pristine.
How had you ever managed to live in such a sterile environment?
“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing Wednesday’s hand to pull her away from her staring. “I want to get out of here.”
Your grip on her hand was a little too tight for comfort. You would never hurt her, she knew that, but it was certainly pushing the boundary. She tried to squeeze your hand, only barely managing to do so, but your grip lightened almost instantly.
As hard as she tried, there would be no way for Wednesday to know how you felt about being back in the house. You hadn’t let her know much about what had happened before and after the funeral, but she had seen the damage. The weight loss, the jittery movements, the avoidance. She would admit, she couldn’t recall a time where she had felt so uncomfortable in a location.
It was an unusual feeling, wondering how someone else would feel in a certain situation. It settled deep in her stomach, leaving behind a feeling of… emptiness. Was that how you felt, being in your childhood home once again? Knowing that there were no good memories, only sorrow and grief and a void that you could never fill?
“Y/N?”
You froze, standing up as straight as possible. Wednesday often forgot how tall you were; you took to slouching more often than not. She attempted to see who had called your name, but you quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from sight.
“We’ll be leaving soon,” you said softly. Your tone was gentle, almost similar to how you talked with your mother. “I promise.”
“Is that her?”
You squeezed her hand. There was a moment where the air was so thick, Wednesday truly thought she would drown in it. Yet another feeling that she was rather unfamiliar with. It only got worse as you stepped aside, turning your body sideways to keep a strategic position between her and this new guest in front of you.
The woman looked homely. She looked older than Wednesday’s own mother, though not as old as Grandmama Addams; the wrinkles on her brown skin gave it away. Even as she dried her hands on the hand towel in her pocket, Wednesday could tell they were well worn from years of use. And yet she still looked at you with a kindness that Wednesday knew you had never gotten from your own mother.
“Mabel,” you said softly, “this is Wednesday.”
Mabel smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”
The statement left an uncomfortable weight in Wednesday’s chest that she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t believe it was because of the statement itself, it was simple enough. No, it could potentially be from the implication? Perhaps it came from knowing that you had talked about her to someone from your past. The same past that she was blind to, that you actively hid from her.
Someone from your past knew about her and it was… frightening.
“We just need in the office,” you said, “and then we’ll be gone.”
Mabel said nothing. She simply stood to the side of the hall, leaving plenty of space for you to pull Wednesday along. There was a moment where Wednesday met her warm brown eyes; they were filled with a look of motherly care. It made her sick to her stomach.
“Don’t touch anything,” you said when you closed the office door. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Wednesday didn’t think she could have searched for anything even if you had asked her to. She couldn’t get Mabel’s eyes out of her mind. There was a horrifying amount of tenderness when she looked at you. Your head had been turned too far, but she could imagine the same sentiment had been in your own eyes.
What a world you had lived in. To grow up receiving care not from your actual parents, but from your brother and the family maid. Now, Wednesday was not overly fond of how her own parents showed their affection; they were too forward and extravagant. That did not, however, change the fact that they loved their children with their entire beings.
She walked forward while you were still digging around. You weren’t touching things, just ghosting your fingers over the spines of books, the shelves, hesitating before pulling open the metal filing cabinets. There was the smallest tell in your actions; your hands shook not with anger, but with fear.
Her feet stopped her in front of a small set of shelves covered in awards and framed newspaper clippings. Your father’s winning cases littered the wall, each seeming to receive a more extravagant frame than the last. But right in the middle of all of them was a singular picture frame, a misfit amongst the glory with its chipped black paint.
It was a family picture of all four of you. The lot was bundled up in winter clothes. Your father held skis in his right hand, and a young you in his left. Nicky stood between your parents, and your mother was looking regal as always. A snow capped mountain made for beautiful background scenery, but that wasn’t what Wednesday was focused on.
You were all smiling.
Your voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, telling her not to touch anything. But who was Wednesday to deny her own curiosity? Curiosity sparked new thoughts, new revelations, and she was never one to deny herself such satisfaction. Besides, you were far too busy with your own search, how would you know if she simply picked up the picture to get a closer look-
-her brain didn’t even have time to process the shock before she felt the chill of winter whipping around her. She couldn’t orient herself properly, but she recognised the snowy mountain in front of her. The peal of laughter brought her spinning head to a halt; it was higher pitched, but she would recognise it anywhere.
You were waddling across the snow after Nicky, hands outstretched in front of you. The look on your face was so genuine, so pure, Wednesday wasn’t entirely sure she had ever seen it on your face in all of her own years of knowing you. It was almost a peaceful aura about you, as if nothing had troubled your young mind just yet. Perhaps it hadn’t.
A little further behind the both of you, your parents stood together, smiling down at you. It was different from the polite, professional smiles she had seen on their faces before. These reached their eyes. If she let her mind stretch reality for a moment, she could almost see… love in those smiles.
“Come on, you two,” your mother said in her slightly accented voice. “Let’s get inside before it gets late.”
“Coming!” Nicky called, letting you chase him as you both ran through the snow that was starting to pile higher on the ground.
Wednesday followed along behind the four of you, keeping her distance for better observation. Nicky was quick to get beside your mother, while you stayed beside your father. His hand grabbed yours gently, dwarfing your entire body beside him. The look on his face would have been precious if she hadn’t known how he ended up treating you.
She stayed outside of the small cabin when you all went inside. It was nothing fancy, nothing that would indicate the small fortune that you came from. Simply a secluded cabin on what appeared to be a secluded mountainside. Wednesday could appreciate the small structure even as she stood by the window, peering in.
There was a small fire on the far wall, and Nicky was quick to shed his winter clothes to sit in front of it. Your father stayed behind, helping you out of the clothes that probably weighed more than you did. It amazed Wednesday how someone so small could turn into the absolute giant that you were in the present. 
Your father’s hands were so gentle on your skin. If she didn’t know any better, it would have looked like love. Maybe it was. Perhaps it used to be. Surely there had been a time, much like this, where you had been loved so unconditionally that it reflected off your smile. He was so careful with you, helping you with each layer of clothing as if one wrong move would break you. You were cherished, you were loved, you were cared for.
He helped you take off the last remaining layer aside from your shirt. It stuck to the small coat, pulling up until it caught on your head, and Wednesday felt that uncomfortably familiar weight settle in her chest. Your back, untouched by the traumas of the future, was bare. No wings, no indication of anything that would signify you were anything other than a Normie.
Your parents loved you because you were “normal.”
“Wends?”
The chill of the mountain air disappeared, too quickly replaced by the warmth of your home. It was a painful switch, leaving her fingers tingling and burning at the same time. She pulled her hand back to her side, being careful not to move the picture frame. You were sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, your brows furrowed. The crinkle between your eyes was more prominent than usual.
“Are you okay?” You asked.
She nodded once, hesitantly.
“I can’t find it,” you said with a sigh. “We should head out before it gets too late.”
You didn’t move from the desk, just kept looking at her. And all the while, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her heart started to race. Sitting at that desk, with your back ramrod straight and arms resting on the mahogany wood, you looked like someone who belonged there. A completely different person than the one she had unceremoniously fallen for time and time again.
You looked just like your father.
She would never say it aloud.
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lolokouhm · 6 months
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pt.2 is out!
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"Could you rail me?"
That's not something Megumi expects to hear at 10 p.m. Especially coming from you. 
You're drenched - that's the first thing he notices. It's been raining the whole day, pouring even, making early autumn weather even gloomier than it usually is. You don't have an umbrella and the light jacket you put on yourself earlier in the morning looks completely out of place - it doesn't even have a hood to hide under. Or maybe it's not the jacket that feels off? Maybe that's just you.
You, the one who is always prepared. You, the one who is always put together. You, the one who, as far as he's concerned, should be in the cinema on a date with your boyfriend right now. A dickhead boyfriend, Megumi makes a mental note. He couldn't bring himself to like the guy, but as long as that idiot treated you right, he wasn't really in a place to say anything. But apparently, something has changed. 
"Could you rail me?"
Yeah, something has definitely changed.
Megumi doesn't really say anything as you get inside - your every movement is showing how furious you are, and it’s not like Fushiguro's not used to people with bad temper, it's just you're not one of them. He's never seen you like this before and, combining the situation with that question you’ve asked him twice, he's taken by surprise. That gets him thinking. Something must have happened, and judging by your face...
Then he notices. The smudged mascara, the barely visible traces on you cheeks, and your red, puffy, eyes.
You cried.
Megumi has seen you in various mental states, but never furious - and most importantly, never crying, so he couldn't possibly have any idea how seeing you like that would make him feel. He knows now. 
He'll kill him. 
"Come on, you need to take a hot shower, or you'll get sick", he finally says, his voice sounding surprisingly normal and calm. He's relieved - all these years of hiding his emotions and not letting them surface have at least some perks. Looking at your state, you need something - someone - to calm you down, and Megumi won’t let himself lose control just over his imagination and groundless jealousy. You need to tell him what happened first. 
So when you’re finally out of the shower, your hair still damp, drowning in his cotton, black T-shirt, Megumi is waiting in the kitchen - and he needs you to speak.
„He cheated on me.” It falls from your lips, light as a feather, and these words do something to him. Something that could have very bad consequences. „We broke up. But it doesn’t even hurt. I… I am so fucking stupid.” You’re not crying anymore - there’s a fire in your eyes that Megumi has never seen before. 
„He’s the one that’s stupid.” That is probably the nicest adjective out of many others he has on his mind right now. He observes you carefully as you adjust yourself on a high hocker next to him. 
„No, I am. I…” You sigh, hiding your face in your hands. „I didn’t cry because he broke my heart. That’s the problem. He didn’t.” That’s a relief, but Megumi’s still not convinced. His brows furrow, as he’s trying to understand what exactly has happened. „I was crying because I don’t fucking understand myself.” Your gaze suddenly jumps on him and the intensity of it makes him gulp. „That’s why I want you to rail me.” Before he can form a coherent answer to that, you speak up again. „I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And that makes me a cheater, because I went into a relationship knowing that. Or at least suspecting that.”
So many things Megumi didn’t expect to hear tonight.
He just stares at you, not sure, whether his heart is racing or it’s completely stopped beating. You’re blushing, but at the same time doesn’t look embarrassed. Despite that cute pink tone on your cheeks, you seem determined, and he’s not sure what he should do about it. 
„Or you can say you won’t”, you suddenly speak up again. The eye contact is so intensive, to the point it physically hurts. „You can say that and I’ll see if it breaks my heart. It’ll be easie-”
„I won’t rail you.” It jumps out of him faster than he’s able to process it, and his heart drops as your face turns pale. 
„Okay. It hurts. So this is a crush after all.” You stand up suddenly and rush somewhere - his apartament isn’t big, but the embarrassment hits you like a truck and you just need to hide. Or die. 
„How the fuck do you expect me to rail you?” Nervousness in Megumi’s voice makes you turn around. He’s got up from his seat as well, his worried expression long forgotten - now he just looks angry. „I’ve had sex like three times before. Fuck”, he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. As if that ever helped somebody to focus. He doesn’t have any other options though. „Jesus, (Y/N). You can’t just say these things like that. Why can’t you just like… say that you have a crush on me? At least I’d know how to answer”, Megumi murmurs and now you’re confused. 
He cannot comprehend the fact that you haven’t noticed. Everyone noticed. Itadori, Nobara, Gojo - everyone. Even he himself noticed. The gradual changes in your friendship, the staring, the smiles that cost him way more than anyone else, and yet he would give you them for free. The jealousy that came few months ago - with you being asked out, taken on dates, kissed. The irritation. And eventually, the nights where he would be so hard and frustrated, and the only cure seemed to be a memory of you. Of your skin. Of your touch. He was sure when your name left his lips that one particular night - he let his imagination run freely, and it sprinted to the point where he imagined it was your hand going up and down on his dick. He panicked a bit, that night. Your friendship was more valuable than anything else. He couldn’t risk it. 
So he endured. 
And now this?
That’s not fair. You play dirty. You asked that fucking question three times and now he’s sexually frustrated and stressed beyond what’s humanly possible. He tried so hard, gritted his teeth, tossed and turned - and you just destroyed everything. 
So when Megumi comes up to you to catch your face in his hands, you can feel his anger. And a million other things that convince you, that yes, Megumi Fushiguro could rail you without any doubt. He kisses you - and the kiss tastes like longing, like desperation, like something more, than just „liking”. Like…
„He was first”, he murmurs, as he pulls away, just millimetres, but enough to be able to say what he needs to say. His long, slender fingers rest on both sides of your face, the right thumb delicately brushing you cheek. A feeling completely different from that sudden kiss.
„What?” You feel a bit hazy and so does he.
„And you were always so happy… I just couldn’t…”, he mutters, running with his gaze when the embarrassment hits him. He curses himself for wearing that black sweater tonight, it’s so hot he cannot stand it - especially when your hands land on his covered chest.
„I was happy because I was with you, you dumbass!” You moan, and even though it’s not sexual at all, Megumi can’t help but groan. You are intoxicating. „I thought you didn’t like me… So I tried to…” You’re interrupted as he pulls you for another kiss, even more needy than the first one. And you suddenly forget what you wanted to say.
Megumi still remembers, but he needs you. If that’s a dream, then he just hopes he’s not going to wake up. Luckily for him, the way his body reacts is more biological than ever and that gives him some hope. 
„You tried to…?” 
„I tried to fall in love with someone else.” 
„You’re stupid then.” His lips travel down your neck as he’s leaving slow, sensual kisses all over it. You grip tightens on his forearm, nails diving between the sweater’s weaves just to find his skin underneath. You had no idea Megumi could kiss like that, and when his fingers slide down your collarbone, you find out that you had no idea that he could touch you like that either. „If you talked to me, we’d save a lot of time.”
„You could have said something too”, you whisper, and the combination of stress, anxiety and bliss makes your legs go weak. Luckily, Megumi’s here, and his arm keeps you in place. „You never say anything. And I…” A little whine interrupted you as his teeth grazed over your paper thin skin. „I don’t know how you feel.”
„You really can’t see it?”
„I need you to say it. I can say it. I’m in love with you, Megumi”. Is it really your voice, or are the angels singing? He could swear he got the chills. „Please.”
Years of hiding. Years of not saying anything. Years of keeping his feelings hidden. All that, just for him to make a confession.
„I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” It’s shaky, it’s soft and it’s quiet, falling into your skin and melting into your soul - something you needed so desperately. And that’s enough. 
You need to see him, so you cup his face into your hands, and the picture leaves you in awe - his soft cheeks are flushed, blue eyes shining with desire. It’s so unlike him, and the fact that you’ve actually managed to pull these words out of him shows how desperate he is.
„You can let go” you whisper, before pulling him for another kiss. „Don’t overthink it. Just… let go.” 
Who knows - he might rail you after all. 
masterlist ❤️
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yorshie · 8 months
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Dunno if you still take requests. But maybe for when you feel like it? (No pressure tho. You can totally ignore this if it isn't up you alley.)
How do them turtle dudes like to romance their honeys? Like who uses strategy (badly)? Who goes with the flow (also badly)? Who just blurts it out the first moment they realize what they're feeling (so SO badly)? And who just buries it behind heaps and heaps of repression (the absolute worst)?
And what about after being assured that their feelings are reciprocated? Is there a change in behavior or demeanor?
🧁
Cupcake Nonnie, I am so sorry. I have no excuse. I have no idea why this was so hard to write, or why it took so long.
I decided two birds one stone sort of thing with this one, a blurb about how exactly starting a relationship with each turtle might go, followed with headcanon style of what they would expect out of a relationship, how it would progress, and how a good relationship would affect them.
As always set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25, SFW
Michelangelo
By the time Michelangelo asked you to be his girlfriend, you low key thought you’d already been going steady for about a month. The turtle shows up like clockwork every Friday at your place, with a pizza and a soda, and the two of you stay up late watching movies while cuddling on the couch. Several times, you’ve woken to him stealing a hug or a nuzzle before leaving before the sun’s up. 
So when he turns from the movie unexpectedly one night, the last item on your ‘what is Angelo about to ask me’ bingo card was a sheepish:
“Hey, babes, would you- will you be my girlfriend?”
You stared at him for a whole scene, taking in those baby blues, before you blurted out your own question. “I thought I already was?”
“Oh. Ok. Cool.” And he grinned like it was nothing, turning back to the tv, leaving you still staring at the side of his head like he’d turn back around with a ‘gotcha’. 
Needless to say, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. Mikey, to his credit, picked up on your mood during the credits, and you had a long conversation over what exactly the two of you wanted to be to the other.
Mikey’s love language is physical touch and quality time spent together
Angelo loves PDA. Soft kisses and nuzzles, hugs, you name it, he’ll try and get away with it. One of his favorite things to do, because he’s a little shit, is to see how many innuendos he can fit into a conversation while still maintaining decency, just to make you turn red and his brothers sigh in exasperation. 
Lowkey though, he doesn’t expect much from you other than your affection, and doesn’t have an overarching game plan. Sure, he celebrates anniversaries, but all the big milestones are simply tackled without him making a big deal out of them. One day you’ll just look up, realize you can’t tell where his stuff ends and yours begins, and have to come to terms with the fact that somehow the two of you are living together with no conversation about it happening.
Sunshine turtle approaches romance the same way he approaches life, with the firm belief that fun is the most important factor. Get ready for movie dates, late night parkour trips, canoodling on rooftops, etc. Just as often though, he will want to stay in. He’ll cook for you, cuddle while you while playing video games or watching a movie, include you in schemes and plans to drive his brothers crazy, anything to include you in his life or show off your bond to others. 
There isn’t a big difference to Mikey’s behavior after he knows you’re into him, though now when he gets in your space he doesn’t hold back from touching you. Turtle was a flirt beforehand, he’s a flirt afterwards. The only difference is, now when he says something you know eventually he will get around to trying it. He says something flirtatious that gets a reaction? He’s not gonna forget, and he’ll bring it up at a later date. 
He will stop flirting with everything that walks by eventually however. Guess calling you babes/babycakes/angelcakes in private had some spillover connotations (ie he can’t say it without thinking about you and it makes him gag trying to say it to anyone not you)
Donatello
Donnie’s blurted out his feelings for you in the middle of the Lair during Sunday Football. You’d arrived to find the turtles acting weird, leaving the room whenever you entered to grab snacks, suddenly making excuses and disappearing so every time you were left with an increasingly nervous Donnie who seemed to trail you around the Lair. By the time kick off happened, Raph, who seemed increasingly edgy, asked you to bring him another beer from the kitchen. You readily agreed, but when you turned from the fridge with the cold can Donnie blocked the way back to the others.
“Hey Don. You ok?” You asked, giving him a smile, craning your head back to meet his wide eyes.
“I like you.” He blurted out, practically looming over you.
You tilted your head, fighting the blush, convincing yourself not to read too much into it. “I like you to, Dee.” 
When you went to move around him though, thinking the moment was over, he caught your hand, grip slightly sweaty. “No, I mean…” He waited for you to meet his eyes again, and he visibly swallowed. “I- I like you.”
You eyes widened, a second before your smile followed. “Oh! Dee…” You set the beer to the side, covered his hand with your own. “I like you too.”
His answering smile lit up the whole room.
Donnie’s love language is gift giving and quality time. 
This turtle wants affection, but he doesn’t always know how to ask for it. You’ll have to pick up on his little cues to catch what he wants. Such as, if you notice him standing over you for periods of time before moving off and then returning, he might want to cuddle, and is just working up to asking for it. If you want things to go smoothly between the two of you, it’d be prudent to make a list of things you’re comfortable with and things you aren’t. It’ll stop him from worrying over things like hand holding and kisses, if he knows you’ll welcome his advances, and it’ll save you some headache trying to parse out what his nonverbal cues are if he is given free reign to just tell you what he would like. 
Dee’s idea of romance is to spend time with you, in whatever way you’ll let him. If you want to park your butt and watch him tinker in his lab or the garage, this turtle is all for it. If you mention there’s a play you want to see or a museum you’d like to go to, he’s already scheming on how to get the two of you in. The turtle disguise doesn’t work as well on him since he’s so tall, but he can sit in the very back and turn into a ninja statue just for you. 
He makes gadgets for you to stay in touch when you’re not with him, and readily goes into tangents about things you’ve said or done, or projects he’s working on for you. His brothers have learned to tune him out to various success. 
As far as changes after the two of you start a relationship, it’s easy to say that that it’s leverage over him and his habits. If he needs to eat, sleep, or just get away from his computer’s before the blue screen fries his brain, his brothers send in you. He gets in a snippy mood and clearly needs a night out or a break, you’re the only one that can convince him to go. Ooo, feel the power.
With you in his corner, Donnie blooms. Yes, he’s a genius and a sarcastic little shit beforehand, but now he has a cheerleader, a partner in crime, someone to fuel his crazy schemes and to be his rubber ducky on occasion. Anytime any old doubt trickles in, he only has to turn to you and be reminded that someone is always there for him, through thick and thin.
Raphael
You ended up confessing your feelings for Raph long before he’d gotten the courage to say anything. He probably would have continued to ignore his feelings, if you hadn’t cornered him in his weight room and spelled it out, angry that he’d been successfully giving you the cold shoulder for weeks.
“Hey, you wanna tell me what I did wrong, or are you gonna go sulk in the corner?” You asked, arms crossed and hip cocked, blocking the entrance to the weight room.
“M’not sulking.” Came the instant reply, though Raph didn’t turn to address you directly. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Leo said I could find you here.” You narrowed your eyes as he rolled his.
“Course he did, stickin’ his nose into-”
“Your brother isn’t my concern, you are.”
“Yeah?” He grumbled, still not looking at you, moving to rack up the manhole covers on his bar. “Why’s that, princess?”
Normally, that nickname made you feel special. Now, it pissed you off. Made you stupidly, sarcastically honest. “It’s probably because I’m not into him, I’m into you, dum dum.”
The weights clanked loudly together, and he turned just his head, glared at you. “Oh, real funny. Don’t go jokin’ about that.”
“I’m hilarious.” You answered. “And I’m 100 percent serious, Raphael.”
He turned to face you fully, head cocked, eyes slowly going from defensive to wide the longer you stood your ground. “You serious?”
You nodded emphatically, and he snorted, ran his hand over his face. “Damn. That’s fucked, babygirl.”
“It is not!” You started angry, but the wide smile on his face broke you out of the emotion.
Raph’s love language is verbal affirmation and physical touch
Yea this turtle can’t decide which is worse, telling you how he feels or seeing his large hands next to your small ones. But he so desperately wants to find the words, so desperately wants to ask you to hold his hand. Expect for him to start coveting private moments with you. He’ll agonize over what to say, what to do. You’ll have to lead the way most of the time, at least at the beginning, until he gets over waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to change your mind about him and all the issues that come along with him. 
Date nights with him are simple. He doesn’t like people, doesn’t like to be out of his comfort zone. He’d rather stay in with you, or up on the roofs where no one can see the two of you. He is very aware of how he is different from a human though, and so he will go out of his way to make sure he can bring normal things to the relationship. His gut instinct is to turn down anything new immediately, but all you have to do is pull out the goo goo eyes and he will bend. He wants to be helpful as possible to you to make up for the things he can’t do, and it’s up to you to make sure he understands how appreciated he is.
He loves to hear you voice your feelings for him, but he won’t outright ask for confirmation. Expect quiet moments where the two of you simply exist in the same space, or maybe cuddling while talking. Raph doesn’t like to be reminded of how different the two of you are though, so you might spend some time reassuring him that you love him, without telling him you don’t care about how different he is, because he will not believe you, or worse will get upset.
The differences in Raph are a long way down the line. At first, he might be even a little more standoffish, doubt and worry overtaking his usual responses. You’ll have to be dedicated to get anywhere past the initial ‘there’s no way this is gonna work, we’re both crazy for thinking this would work, you’re crazy for liking me, and I’m crazy for listening’ phase that will grip him hard. If you can weasel past that, however, be prepared to have someone that will never give up on you, ever. You’ll have a significant other that will come to your aid at the drop of a pin, at the first sign of trouble. 
He’ll mellow out over time, become a little softer around the edges and a little less ‘the world is out to get me and mine’. He might even tolerate his brothers’ teasings over the two of you, as long as they do it where you can’t hear, trading huffs and denial for small smiles and easy laughter at their pointed questions.
Leonardo
You found Leo waiting at your window, the same way you’d found him countless times. This time however, when you let him in, you were concerned at his formal movements. He was always careful, but now he was watching you as though waiting for something.
“Hey, Blue?” You asked, moving automatically to start tea, the way you had every time he came to visit. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.” He answered, and you could tell it was a knee jerk reaction, but you let it slide.
“M’kay, well, I was just about to start dinner? How does that sweet chicken with the rice I made last month sound?” You asked, already knowing his answer, moving to grab the ingredients.
He surprised you by moving into your space, catching your hand. “Can we talk, for a moment, first?” 
You turned to give him your attention, careful to keep your movements slow as you took his hand. “Sure. Of course.”
Leo stood there for a moment, petting his thumb over the back of your hand, before he took a deep breath. “Stop me if I’m overstepping, but I need to speak my mind.” 
At your nod, he continued. “I like you, more than a friend, more than I should. I wanted- wondered, that is, if you could feel the same for me?”
If he had lifted his head at all, he would have seen your answer in the high wattage smile plastered across your face.
Leo’s love language is verbal affirmation and quality time spent together
This turtle has thought of everything. He’s intimately turned his feelings for you over and over in his mind, viewed them from every angle to inspect for marks or imperfections before he even accepts how he feels for you. Once he’s accepted them, get ready for slow burn romance. He has a sequence of steps the two of you must dance through in his head, and if you try and skip any steps he will want to backtrack to correct it. You want to hold hands for the first time and share a first kiss? He’s not going to turn down smooches, but he might not even notice you are posed for one, considering he’s too busy marveling at the feel of your much smaller hand in his.
Dates are simple things, he’s too paranoid to sneak into movies like Donnie or Mikey, instead he’ll go for walks with you, try and spot stars with you through the light pollution. If you want to do nothing but watch movies and lay against him, he’s in heaven, but he absolutely loves to hear you read from books out loud to him.
Expect lots of talks with Leo, but it’s less about sharing information and more he just wants to hear your voice, turn his brain off and simply exist for a moment where no one expects anything from him. Not to say he doesn’t listen, and not to say what you tell him isn’t important, but its calming to listen to simple workplace gossip after dealing with crime fighting and high stakes espionage. On the flip side, there will be times when he comes to you clearly lost in his head. In those instances, he just wants to be reminded that you care for him, that you’re by his side, that you willingly chose to be with him.
Most of the changes with Leo are the two of you are together happen privately, after all he is a very private person. The others don’t get to see him unravel, set aside everything bothering him. The first time you realized you cracked the code, is when Leo told you something that was bothering him, without getting defensive. Like he knew even if you disagreed with him there would be no judgement. After that, the two of you were inseparable. 
The only outwards change, that everyone picks up on, is his sense of humor. Before, it only came out in high stress situations, during fights, one-liners to goad others into making mistakes. But after meeting you, it morphs into quiet, humorous observations. The first time he dropped a joke in the middle of dinner just to make you snort into your soup, his brothers froze, wondering what the hell was happening. Raph legit asked Donnie if body snatching was a thing and if they needed to quarantine Leo. 
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irisintheafterglow · 6 months
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hello…………..kiyoomi crumbs pls
ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE
*patting the hood of a car* this bad boy can hold so much bf!sakusa
cw: swearing and the msby jackals being idiots
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you checked your phone again and prayed you weren't keeping him waiting for a long time.
"hi, is omi still in there?"
"he should be just about finishing up, but you can go ahead. you know your way around the place by now," the security guard states warmly, giving you the go-ahead to navigate the back halls of the gym to the men's locker room. even if you did find yourself lost, it'd be easy to get to your destination by simply following the banter of your boyfriend's three very spirited teammates. their voices grow louder with every step and you have to stifle a laugh when you start to pick up the bits and pieces of their conversations.
"and then she told me i was being delusional! can you imagine? me? delusional?"
"remind us all when you met this girl, atsumu?"
"...last week."
"dare i say, she has a point," deadpans the smooth, low voice of your boyfriend. he always knew the best ways to press atsumu's buttons, making it very difficult to invite his friends over for dinner without harmless arguing occurring at the kitchen table. "it's okay; i'm sure you'll find another 'love of your life' next week."
"shoyo, the fuck are you doin' with my shirt?"
"can you all please put clothes on? if sakusa's partner walks in here and all of you are naked-"
"i'm not naked!"
"we know you're not, bokuto, but atsumu needs to put his tits away before i cut them off with scissors," kiyoomi quips and you fail to muffle your snort from around the corner. the room quiets in an instant and you hear a faint fuck before he finally comes to find you. he's still slightly sweaty from practice, all toned muscle and messy hair and bright eyes that only twinkle for you. "hi, beautiful."
"hey, handsome. you done threatening physical violence in there?" your eyebrow quirks in question and he shakes his head tiredly, tugging you into him by the belt loops of your pants. your arms rest on his shoulders, brushing stray curls from his forehead.
"not yet. i still have some unfinished business."
"mmm, with razors, i hear." you nod in solemn understanding and his mouth quirks into a half-smile, another expression of his that was reserved only for you. his lips press a kiss to your temple in a rare show of public affection, inhaling your presence with his eyes shut contentedly. "i could be wrong, but a federal offense will probably screw up your olympic prospects."
"if you tell me to do it, i'll do it," he murmurs absentmindedly and you chuckle under your breath.
"what, murder atsumu or not murder atsumu?"
"dealer's choice." he places one more kiss on your nose before resting his forehead against yours like he'd been away from you for decades. to you, it was a few hours; but, to him, it felt like a century. "i missed you a lot."
"i can tell. you're very affectionate tonight." his forehead scrunches in confusion at the implication of your statement.
"what am i, a cat?" the incredulity in his voice makes you giggle and, despite his best efforts to remain stoic, you can tell he's fighting back a smile too.
"in some ways, yes. you do tend to leave hair all over our couch, and you make a lot of noise when you're hungry." he makes a proud noise in the back of his throat and lightly pinches the flesh of your sides in defiance.
"i'll buy us a new one if you want me to," he promises. you stopped sharing product ads with omi on instagram because he tended to buy you anything that you sent him, even if it was just a funny little trinket you saw on an etsy shop. these items included but were not limited to stationary, plushies, athleticwear, and, of course, furniture.
"you don't need to do that."
"maybe i already have."
"thanks for letting me know that your newest love language is buying me a sofa."
"my love language is doing whatever you want me to do, angel." you both jump when a loud crash comes from the locker room around the corner, followed by hinata's panicked rambling and bokuto saying "that was fucking epic!" atsumu, you'd guess, is either the culprit or the object that caused the crash. you gently push omi's sturdy shoulders away and he groans in protest. "do i have to?"
"wrangle your team, put some proper clothes on, and take me to dinner, lover boy."
"as you wish."
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if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
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d0youc0py · 25 days
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I’ve been seeing so much ex husband price stuff on here and it’s making me drool. So I’m contributing some ex husband/not divorced yet but taking a break for vague reasons but you both still deeply love each other TF 141….Also this is sappy, dramatic and not accurate character portrayal—just let me live in denial!
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“Johnathan, it’s 1 am.” You groaned, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.
“Go back to bed, Honey.” He muttered back quickly. You shot him a glare at the term of endearment. He was balancing a flashlight between his teeth, his back mostly turned to you.
“Are you fixing that window?” You questioned, turning on the overhead light. He must’ve not wanted to wake you. He took the flashlight out of his mouth, looking over his shoulder at you. His chest swelled at the sight of you in one of his shirts. It took every ounce of self restraint not to wrap you up in his arms. “I told you over the phone I hired someone to come and fix it.” You yawned.
“And have some stranger traipsing through the house.” He huffed. You watched as his arms flexed at even the slightest movements. You hated these moments of weakness. It was the same reason why you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were wearing one of his shirts. Or the same reason you would light a cigar like it was incense. The same reason why you always answered his daily calls. Then you’d remember why you wanted a divorce in the first place. It always felt like someone dumping cold water on you.
And thats exactly how you felt now.
“That’s not your problem anymore, John.” You reminded. His blood ran cold. Yet he kept up his unbothered appearance.
“Never a problem, Honey.” He assured, still keeping his back to you. You sighed running a hand over your face.
“I just- I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to just show up whenever you want. It’s my house right? That’s what you agreed to. It’s not just some motel you can show up at whenever you want to feel needed.” You spat. His body was still and ridged. His teeth ached from the tight clenching of his jaw and the pain in his chest was wince worthy.
“I know.” He said slowly. “I just want you to know I’ll always take care of you, Honey.” He began to turn towards you but stopped himself. He couldn’t stand to see the look on your face.
“I don’t need you to take care of me, John.” You continued. “I was able to survive before you and when you left me every other month.” You don’t know why you were being so forceful with him. Maybe it was because you hadn’t physically seen him in a few weeks.
“Well maybe I’m not doing it for you, hmm?” He shot back, finally facing you. His eyes were just as red the day you walked out of the lawyers office. “You made your decision, but that doesn’t mean you just stopped being the most important thing in my life. So yeah, I’m going to drop by if I feel I need to because I vowed to always take care of you and no fucking paper you make me sign is going to take that away from me. If you don’t like that you can get a restraining order.”
He didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.
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“Hey, Cap.” You smiled into your phone. Calls from Price were kinda common- he just liked to check up on you here and there, but you could tell by the sigh on the other end this wasn’t going to be about you.
“Hey, Kiddo.” He started. “I catch you at a good time?” He questioned.
“Yeah, just watching TV. Everything alright?” You questioned back. There was another sigh on his end, and it sounded like he was taking a drag of his cigar.
“No one’s hurt.” He was trying to pick his words carefully. “It’s ’bout Simon, though.”
“Okay.” You responded slowly. Just the mention of Simon’s name had a small tremor rise in your body. It’s not like you had gone no-contact with him. He called you a few times a week just to ask if you needed anything, if anything in the flat needed to be fixed, or just to make sure you locked all the windows before going to sleep. “You’re building up a lot of suspense here, Cap.” You offered a fake chuckle.
“Sorry.” He paused again and you wanted to rip your hair out. “He’s just- I know it’s really none of my business what happened between the two of you but he’s not doing good, Love.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s doing fine work-wise. But I’m worried about him personally. He’s droppin’ weight, smoking a couple packs a day, drinkin’ when he knows he’s not suppose to be. When he’s not doing that he just sits and stares. Johnny has to check his pulse sometimes.” It was his turn to offer you a chuckle. Another pause and drag. A few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and Price ran a hand over his face when he heard you sniffle. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I also know you would get after me if I didn’t. Now you don’t owe him anything, but I think just a call from you would help him out a lot.”
“You think he’s doing this because of me?” You whispered.
“Course.” Price responded immediately. He cringed at himself. “What I mean to say is, you’re that man’s ‘reason.’ You get what I’m saying? Men like me and him need a reason. A reason to come home. A reason to be better. A reason to just get our asses out of bed at the crack of dawn. Like I said you don’t owe him anything, Kiddo, but I think just hearing your voice would do him some good.”
“Thank you, Price. For looking out for him and me.” You said sincerely.
“It’s what I get paid for.” He shot back with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, pressing the big red button after a ‘goodbye’. Your swollen eyes raked over the wedding photos you still had hanging in the living room. You couldn’t not call him. You wondered how long he’d been acting like this. Had he been doing it the whole time you had been separated? You rubbed at your eyes working up the courage to press his contact in your phone.
It only rang once before he answered.
“You alright?” He asked quickly.
“Yeah.” You replied, taking a deep breath. “Just calling to check in.” You said slowly. You heard him breathe a sigh of relief.
“Checkin’ in on me?” He repeated. Your heart ached at the thought that he seemed to think you didn’t care about him.
“That okay?” You urged. He hummed in agreement. “If your busy I can call bac”-
“Not busy.” He cut off. “What’ve you been up to?” You heard some shuffling and it sounded like he was getting into bed. You wondered what time it was wherever he was in the world.
“Nothing too interesting. I got a new cat! She’s an older tabby who’s seen some things, but she’s a Sweetheart.” You rambled on smiling.
“She probably thinks she’s in heaven with you.” He snickered. You giggled at his words and his eyes shut tightly trying to soak up every second of it.
“Simon, is there anyway when you get back you could help me move in a new cat tower? They’re all fighting over the one we have.” Using the word ‘we’ had just become habit when talking to Simon. You didn’t even realize you had said it. But you using that word was all the ‘reason’ he needed.
“Of course. I’ll be home Wednesday. That work for you?” His heart was beating out of his chest like it did the very first time he asked you out on a date.
“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then, Si.”
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*inaccurate medical rules*
Your leg bounced up and down nervously, your eyes about to burn a hole in the pale blue curtain. You were in an accident- not a major one, but you did receive a concussion.
Johnny was still your emergency contact and according to the nurses he was more than willing to pick you up.
“He’s not entirely my husband.” You began. The nurse raised his eyes from the clipboard for a split second before shrugging.
“Says it in your file and he’s still your emergency contact. He’s already on his way, but do you have anyone else we could call?” His tone was bored and you wondered how many times he had to have this conversation a day. You slowly shook your head. “Well we can’t just let you leave by yourself.” He sighed.
“I know, but I filed for divorce. He just refuses to sign it. Doesn’t that count for anything?” You pleaded. The nurse gave you a sour look.
“I can change your emergency contact so in future accidents he won’t be contacted.” You furrowed your brows at his choice of words.
“Hopefully there won’t be anymore accidents.” Your body stiffened at the all too familiar voice. The curtain was drawn back revealing your husband. He gave you a soft smile and you hated the way it settled your stomach.
“Yeah right, so change your emergency contact or no?” The nurse piqued up. You shut your eyes tightly, shaking your head side to side. You wished the floor would swallow you. The nurse looked between you and Johnny before giving you two some privacy.
“I’m sorry about all this, John.” You sighed standing up. “They wouldn’t let me leave without someone signing for me. If you could just walk me out, I can call an Uber.”
“John?” He repeated, in a whisper. It was probably just intended for himself. His chest tightened. No nicknames. He partly hoped that this experience would’ve softened you. Made you happy to be alive. Make you want to wrap your arms around him and call off the whole ‘divorce’ thing. He can picture all the times you sprawled out on his chest, whispering into his skin how safe you felt with him. Now here you were inching yourself away from him like he would ever hurt you. “I’d rather take you home.” He pressed.
“It’s seriously okay John”-
“Enough with the formalities.” He snipped. Your eyes widened and he groaned at his mistake. “You’re discounting everything we’ve been through together. Treating me like some stranger.” He growled out.
“Well what am I suppose to do? Hmm? You want me to call you ‘Mac’ again. Or any of the other ridiculous nicknames I made up for you? Well I’m not going to do that! You were good to me for so many years, Johnny- please don’t think I have forgotten that. But this last year it’s like I haven’t even existed to you. You’re taking every single job that is thrown your way like you don’t even want to be with me anyone, so I’m just doing what you do obviously want but aren’t going to say.” Your voice shook and tears dropped from your eyes, but you held your ground. His jaw clenched tightly, his eyes red from holding back what you had already given up hiding.
“You think I want this? I”-
“Hey, as much as this has been the highlight of my week, we actually need your bed back.” The nurse interrupted, peaking his head through the curtains. Your flushed but nodded your head in understanding. Johnny was hot on your trail following you out. The cold air felt nice against your heated body and you turned to Johnny waiting for him to make the first step.
“I’m sorry for gettin’ on you in there.” He sighed. He shifted on his feet. “I just miss you.” His eyes refused to meet yours knowing it would cause him to break. He opened and closed his mouth trying to find the words to how desperately he wanted you in his life.
“For a man who loves to talk you sure are having a hard time.” You sniffled, wiping at your still streaming eyes.
That was all he needed to let it out. It was sloppy and unfiltered, but yet it shattered your world and everything you thought you knew about the man and how he felt about you.
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You saw him at the store. It wasn’t the first time you had run into him- actually you two seemed to be bumping into each other all over the place. And without hesitation every single time he would flee the scene like you were some bully from high school he ran into. The same thing happened tonight. You both turned into the same aisle, stared at each other for a moment, then he dropped his basket and charged out the door.
You had already made up your mind weren’t going to let him go this easy.
You rushed after him, at a speed walk pace.
“Kyle!” You shouted after him in the parking lot. He was just opening the door to his sleek black car, one of his feet inside already. He paused for a moment, before sliding into the drivers seat. You were able to grab the door handle before he shut it on you.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” He growled, beginning to tug the door back. Your hand gripped the car door and he quickly faltered not wanting to slam it shut on your fingers.
“Just let me talk, please?” You begged. Those same brown eyes that you had spent the best part of your life staring into bore coldly into yours. “I just- We keep running into each other. I just think it’s silly that we keep avoiding each other.”
“Not silly.” He shot back without missing a beat. “You don’t want me anymore, remember?” Your heart dropped.
“Ky, that’s not true”-
“Fucking save it, Y/N. You’re the one who wanted to take a break. Why don’t you just divorce me and get it over with already.” He spat. His face curled in a way that made you want to die.
“Is that what you want?” You asked quietly. He ran his hands up and down his face.
“I’m tired of your games, Lovie.” His voice held no warmth. “I want my partner back. The same person who I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The same person I vowed to love and protect- but that person doesn’t even seem to be you anymore. I couldn’t imagine just cutting you out of my life the way you did to me. And the fact that you were able to do it fucking terrifies me. Just call me when you figure your shit out.”
He shut the door and you let him.
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matan4il · 8 days
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sorry if this isn't a good place to ask but you're one of the few blogs on here that has actually done any research at all on the subject and. yknow how the pro-palestine donation posts repeatedly give you the option to buy esims specifically. why is that? I've never seen any other movement where the donation posts had you buy esims for them. what fucking use *are* they? you can't eat them, drink them- you might be able to order food with them if it wasn't for the fucking war.
maybe this is cynicism on my part but i genuinely suspect they're being used by hamas to spread propaganda. why else would they need that many esims? but you definitely know more about this than i do.
Hi lovely, sorry it took me a moment to reply!
I can tell you that even before I got this ask, the eSims campaign struck me as odd and suspicious, based on a few basic things I know, but if I was going to reply to you on this, I needed to do some research about it.
To make this ask reply clear, by "connectivity" I mean the ability to either make phone calls, log onto the internet, or both.
Okay, so why did this campaign make me wonder in the first place? Because while there have been some connectivity problems for Gazans, from what I know, there was only one time when connectivity was down to a degree that would justify a campaign, even then it wasn't completely gone for good, because Israel has worked to restore connectivity to Gazans. But I also wondered whether, if the connectivity is down, an eSim would be the solution? And if it would be, why would there be a need for that many eSims? We're over 5.5 months into this war, that's almost half a year of constantly hearing how Gaza is about to starve, so are eSims really Gazans' biggest problem if they have no food and basic needs? But even if it was enough of a problem to merit a campaign, wouldn't there have been more than enough donations by now to have solved it to a considerable degree? Since connectivity was never fully gone for long, surely there's a limit to how many more eSims they actually need, at least at certain points in time? From my experience with donating to Israelis displaced or affected by Palestinian terrorists (in this war, as well as during previous crises), there does come a time when you hear, "Okay, thank you to everyone donating X, we have enough of that, what we need now is more of Y, we would really appreciate you donating that!" But there has been no moment when we saw the eSims campaign saying, "We've had enough donations of this type, thank you, now please look more into donating X or Y, which Gazans currently need more."
And that led me to another question - if there is a certain scam involved here, what kind? Is it a financial one? Is this just meant to get money from the rest of the world feeling bad for Palestinians, and beyond the financial theft, it's harmless? Or is the money going to Hamas and people affiliated with it, which means it might be financing terrorism and the continuation of killing? Or maybe the scam is in allowing Hamas terrorists connectivity that can't be tracked as easily by Israeli security forces, which are trying to avert terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians?
I am not the biggest expert, so I don't have all the answers, but here's what I have managed to figure out.
So, first of all, connectivity requires physical infrastructure. Israel has been providing that for Gaza for years, in the form of underground cables and cellular antennas positioned on both sides of Israel's border with Gaza (source in Hebrew). The Oct 7 massacre initiated by Hamas and the following war have at times physically damaged this infrastructure, which is why Gaza has had less connectivity than usual (though it's not gone). The one time which was the worst, in terms of connectivity, the internet (but not all connectivity) was down from Friday, until Israel managed to fix things on Sunday (link above is the source for all this, it's an article from Oct 31, 2023. That said, Oct is when the most connectivity issues were reported). That means that Gaza was never fully offline except for that short period of Friday to Sunday. It also means the connectivity issues are not some plot to keep Gazans from telling the world about their plight (the way I've seen the eSims campaign presented on social media), or the connectivity would be totally down, and Israel would not do anything to restore it at any point.
And I'm pointing this out to explain one of two reasons why eSims being bought for Gazans might be useless as a solution to Gaza's connectivity if Israel was actually purposely harming it. (this following part is based on me reading way too many articles about eSim technology, those can be easily found everywhere online)
If the physical infrastructure providing the signal (which mobile networks use to provide connectivity) is physically damaged, eSim technology can't bypass that. Because eSim technology doesn't provide the signal, it just allows the owner of an eSim to easily switch between mobile networks without having to switch physical SIMs provided by these networks. That means, that for the eSim to work, there has to be some connectivity anyway. There also has to be connectivity in the first place in order to activate the eSim program paid for by someone outside Gaza (not to mention, they'd need connectivity to get the code, and learn that they're getting an eSim, and how to activate it). If Israel really was intentionally cutting off Gaza's connectivity by shutting down the physical infrastructure, as it's being presented online, eSims would be completely useless. You wouldn't be able to activate them, and you wouldn't have a signal that allowed you to use them. A campaign that misrepresents the basic facts (as if Israel is intentionally denying Gazans connectivity, or as if eSims can provide connectivity all on their own) is suspect to me.
The other reason why eSims wouldn't be a solution for many (if not most) Gazans, even if you do have connectivity, is that it also requires you to have an eSim compatible smartphone. The 'e' in eSim stands for 'embedded.' That means the technology that allows the use of eSims has to be embedded into the phone you're using, and then you can buy and activate an eSim. If you buy an eSim and wanna use it with a smartphone that doesn't have the required technology embedded, that's a bit like buying a wireless charger to use with an older phone that can only be charged through a cable (it just doesn't have the technology embedded that allows it to connect to and be charged by a wireless charger). The technology allowing the use of eSims has only been embedded in more recent phone models, which Gazans are less likely to have.
Regarding that last point, I wanna explain that, as mentioned in the above Hebrew link, before the war Gaza's mobile networks were all operating on 3G technology, even though most phones now operate on 4G or even 5G technology, which means it wouldn't be worth it for the average Gazan to invest in buying a newer phone, which is presumably more expensive than an older model. Especially if it's one that can't even connect to the older 3G network.
That's not to say there wouldn't be any Gazans with newer phones. The myth spread before the war for years called Gaza a 'concentration camp' or 'open air prison' as if people there have nothing (which makes vids comparing Gaza before and after the war particularly ironic. Either there was nothing before the war, and then the war didn't change much, or Gaza was a beautiful, thriving place before the war, and then calling it a 'concentration camp' was a Holocaust distorting lie). Here's the truth, there were indeed many Gazans who were poor and didn't have that much. But there were also Gazans who were extremely rich, the gap there was one of the biggest in the world. A lot of Israelis are familiar with the Twitter hashtag that documented wealth and luxury in Gaza before the war, TheGazaYouDontSee. It was based on an Arabic speaking Israeli Jewish woman following the social media accounts of actual Gazans, and sharing in English what they would upload, showing stuff like resorts, hotels, luxury cars that most Israelis I know can't afford. You know, typical concentration camp stuff. You'd have to scroll back in the hashtag a bit to find those older tweets from before the war, some have been captured and shared on Tumblr as well.
Where does the gap come from? Not all of it, but a big part is about who is in Hamas (and who isn't), who's affiliated with Hamas (and who's not), who gets some of the donated billions of dollars being poured into Gaza over the years and mostly stolen by Hamas, who gets some of the money coming from Qatar, who gets some of the money coming from Iran, and so on. In other words, the poverty that existed in Gaza before, existed despite how much money was being invested in it for years, and because of Hamas and Hamas-related thieves, making a profit out of it, while keeping sections of the Gazan population poor and without aid.
BTW, if there would have been a permanent ceasefire now, this would just be replicated. The world would donate more money than ever, and Hamas would steal almost all of it, with a big chunk going to the financing of terrorism (building terror tunnels we now know are more extensive than the NYC subway or the London tube, stocking up on rockets, drones, explosives, assault rifles, RPGs and more, which allow Hamas to continue to fight the strongest army in the Middle East and target innocent Israeli civilians for over 5.5 months) and the rest lining up their own pockets, enabling them to lead a VERY nice, comfortable, even luxurious life.
So which Gazans are the most likely to have eSim compatible smartphones? The rich ones, who are in or associated with Hamas.
And that brings me to the question of what's the real purpose of the eSims campaign.
One aspect could be the propaganda value of such a campaign. They're not just repeatedly asking people to donate money for eSims, many posts are asking for it, while insisting on the vilifying lie that Israel is keeping Gaza disconnected on purpose. It's a bit like the boycott campaign. Starbucks is not actually affiliated with Israel or Israeli policy, it doesn't even have any branches in Israel, it tried in the past, but had to close here. So why in the world would it finance anything Israeli? When an Israeli Prime Minister has to decide whether to finish off Hamas, so that hundreds of thousands of Israelis can safely return to their homes in southern Israel, he's not calling a chain of cafes that doesn't even sell anything in this country. The only current sort-of-link to Israel, is that the CEO is Jewish. So if Starbucks is boycotted and takes a financial hit, that has zero influence on Israel or its policies. Why then has Starbucks been targeted? Maybe partly because of the CEO, which is antisemitic. But most likely, it's because Starbucks is an easy to spot brand when pics of celebs are being taken, which allows people to talk about the boycott. And that's the value, it's a PR move, to get it into everyone's head that anyone associated with Israel should be canceled. To repeat it constantly regarding different celebs, until the message gets through, that the biggest monster in this world, and the one state that everyone should be united against, is the Jewish one.
The financial aspect. Again, I'm not a big expert, but I can't really see how, if people are being asked to pay eSim providers directly, this would be done for financial gain. I could be wrong, maybe there is some way to funnel the money to the people in the campaign instead of regular Gazans, but on the surface at least, I'm not sure how (since they're not asking for the receipts, just the activation code). It could still be about financial gain in the sense that the eSims aren't providing connectivity when the physical infrastructure is down, but they mean some Gazans haven't had to pay for their internet for a while. Which ones? Most likely, the ones in or affiliated with Hamas. I personally do not like the idea of terrorists launching a massacre that is the opening shot of a war, relying on all the donations they can steal after the end of the war to make it worth while, and then as a perk getting their internet paid for by strangers.
Then there's the direct value to Hamas, meaning the option that the campaign is meant to directly help Hamas' terrorist activity, or terrorist goals. Meaning, not only are the eSims going to people who are in or have connections to Hamas, the codes are sent to them specifically to aid them with harming Israel.
Why am I considering this option? For one thing, because we know that since the start of the war, Hamas terrorists inside Gaza have been directing terrorist activity outside of it. One example is a Palestinian terrorist squad, which was directed from Gaza, and was thankfully stopped before they managed to carry out the attack they were planning, and here's another similar example, of a terrorist squad made up of 13 Israeli Arabs, and directed from Gaza on how to carry out mass terrorist attacks, stopped thanks to documents the IDF found while operating inside Gaza. An attack that was successfully carried out and was confirmed as directed from Gaza, is the one where terrorists shot to death several people in Jerusalem, during what was supposed to be a truce between Israel and Hamas, during which Israeli hostages would be released (I heard this recently on TV, online I sadly only managed to find a source that these terrorists had a track record of being directed from Gaza). These terrorist directives from Gaza require connectivity, preferably of the type that Israeli security can't track.
And we do know that our forces do track Hamas cellular activity. For example, we've learned that on Oct 6, Israel discovered weird cellular activity in Gaza, where a lot of Hamas terrorists were activating (physical) Israeli SIMs, allowing them to connect to local networks once inside Israel. This led to a discussion of Israeli army seniors in the middle of the night, on whether this is a sign that something's up, but eventually it was concluded that Hamas terrorists have done this before, so the alarm was (unfortunately) not raised, and the massacre wasn't prevented. In other words, it's possible that eSims can help Gazan Hamas terrorists to direct terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians outside Gaza, and it's also possible that, when Hamas is continuously trying to breach the Israeli border, an eSim could help them if they make it into Israel, by not needing to activate an Israeli SIM, detectable by Israeli security. IDK that this is the intent, but for me personally, I would prefer to err on the side of caution, and be sure that I haven't unknowingly donated an eSim, that might have assissted in the murder of an innocent civilian.
I also mentioned directly aiding Hamas' terrorist goals, not just their activity. This terrorist organization dared launch its massacre, despite knowing the Israeli reaction would be fierce (as any country's would be if its citizens would have been so extremely brutalized), because it relied on using regular Gazans as human shields, then showing the world horror pictures, which would get everyone distressed enough, that they would overlook the massacre, and Hamas' vow to repeat it, and focus on demanding an immediate ceasefire, saving Hamas from being destroyed. We know Hamas uses "journalists," and some of these "journalists" are actual terrorists (generally, there's no free press in Gaza thanks to Hamas) and others to broadcast this narrative of horrors (that if successful, would lead to greater horrors). The eSims campaign has mentioned specifically providing connectivity to journalists, which means serving the ability of Hamas to go on inundating the world with images that fit the narrative it needs the world to believe, in order to save itself, and continue carrying out terrorist attacks (or God forbid, massacres).
Here's the relevant citation from the campaign site, which highlights providing Gaza "journalists" with eSims:
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I'm not gonna tell anyone what to do with their money, but I'll repeat my personal POV. I do think we're all responsible for the money we donate, and we can't just give it away to causes that will make us feel good about ourselves, without making sure that the money won't end up in the hands of terrorists, and do real harm. The latter is our responsibility, even if we didn't know it will go to terrorists, because we should check and make sure that we know who the money goes to. The first responsibility we all have is, "Do no evil," right? Even the least awful scenario of what might be the driving force behind the campaign, is still one that financially compensates people affiliated with Hamas, and contributes to a false demonization of the Jewish State. But at the end of the day, this is an individual choice, that each person has to make for themselves.
I hope my reply helps! Sorry for the length, and hoping that you are doing well, and taking care of yourself! xoxox
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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garoujo · 2 years
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LETTING GO OF THEIR HAND WHILE THEY’RE DRIVING — JUJUTSU KAISEN
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feat : gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji + geto suguru
ღ warnings — none just fluff!!
ღ note — hewo i am thinking very hard about them rn,, i wanna hold their hands but ‘m sorreee these are so messy ^3^
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・✶ 。゚GOJO SATORU
satoru always opened his palm like it was a necessity before he started driving, waiting patiently for you to intertwine it with yours. he was rambling to you about his day, laughing at his students antics until you suddenly shook your hand free of his and you watch his previously handsome grin twitch slightly. there’s a beat of silence before you hear him hum, a soft pout on his lips as his hand opens once more as he shakes it expectantly, “come on, sweetheart. don’t leave me like this.” satoru drawls, only continuing his story when he feels your hand rest against it again. but you giggle before snatching your hand back again, not expecting satoru’s hand to follow the touch while he keeps his eyes on the road—patting and feeling around on your lap for your hand as he laughs and grumbles from the drivers seat, his grins spread cheekily. “come on now, don’t be so greedy, pretty girl.. don’t make me pull over.” he hums like he’s trying to convince you, secretly praying for a red light so he can finally find it, promising himself to hold it extra tight when he finally does.
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・✶ 。゚NANAMI KENTO
nanami likes holding your hand gently as he drives, it’s not a super regular occurrence but he likes the feeling of having you there with him. he was driving you home one day, his hand having discreetly made its way over to intertwine tightly with your own, and you notice the ghost of a softer kind of smile on his lips when he asks you about your day. you reply but go to shake his hand off and he just lets you, his smile dropping a little and he suddenly falls a little quiet when he casts you a side glance. “everything alright sweetheart?” nanami asks, his tone smooth and you nod, smiling—which urges him to mirror your expression, although the hand that was once intertwined with yours now just rests on the wheel with his other. but you eventually ask for his hand when you he still sends you a soft smile and he places a gentle kiss against your skin after.
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・✶ 。゚ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI
it taken a while for megumi to get super comfortable with insinuating any physical affection, but now he loved the subtle touches between you both— especially intertwining your hand with his as he drives with the other, so you were curious if he would have any reaction. he was driving home, basking in the comfortable silence with your playlist playing softly in the background as his thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand while intertwined with his. so you go to shake his hand off and you watch megumi straighten up a little, a subtle pout resting on his lips as his eyebrows furrow softly, but he just retracts his hand quietly, assuming it’s maybe because you have cramp in your hands—so he just lets his rest awkwardly in his lap before asking if you could hold his hand again, even saying he’d hold it a little softer if it hurt. he finds himself blushing slightly at how upfront the question is but he just finds it so comfortable.
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・✶ 。゚ITADORI YUUJI
yuuji loves any and all types of physical affection which resulted in him always having a hand on you or holding yours constantly. he loves squeezing your hand, always laughing about how it’s like a hand hug in the moments when he can’t hug you for real. so while he was driving, singing along brightly to the song that was playing on the radio while shooting you bright smiles and loud giggles, the kind that have you grinning along with him, you try to shake your hand free from his. but his hand moves so quickly when he feels the lost touch, grabbing yours once more. yuuji doesn’t even fumble a lyric as he continues his song, his body most likely moving on instinct alone. but if you go to do it again, he wont hesitate to pull over—turning to you with a worried pout “baby are you okay? why don’t you wanna hold my hand did i do something wrong?” he asks genuinely, but as soon as you take his hand again he’ll pepper it with affectionate kisses and ask you if you wanna go to starbucks or somewhere nice because he just likes being with you.
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・✶ 。゚GETO SUGURU
suguru always had to be touching you whenever he drove, maybe it was down to how much he doted over you but he just liked knowing you were safe and comfortable beside him. so while you’re both driving out for a date, your hands comfortably intertwined, you gently shake your hand from his—earning a confused hum from your boyfriend beside you. it’s subtle the look he shoots you, his features crumbling softly when he casts you a quick side glance, as if checking up to make sure everything okay, but you just smile and he covers up any disappointment with a soft grin. “you okay, pretty girl?” suguru mumbles, his voice low, and you nod out a yes before you feel his palm rest against your thigh, smoothing along the skin soothingly and squeezing every few moments as he grumbles out a joke about you not holding his hand—but this was good enough for him anyway.
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© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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williamrikers · 10 months
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On the subject of consent in recent BLs
In this analysis, I will take a look at several love scenes in recent Thai BLs, how they frame consent and the sexual agency of the characters, and why those matter.
(KinnPorsche deserves its own post: I’m sure people have already written in detail about how much emphasis is placed on issues of consent/non-consent throughout the show and how fundamental consent is to the relationship arcs of both KinnPorsche and VegasPete, and I won’t belabor the point here. Also, special shout-out to The Warp Effect for what it brought to the conversation about gay sex, but TWE isn’t technically a BL so I decided not to include it in this analysis.)
I am going to take a closer look at the following shows in this essay: Not Me, The Eclipse, A Boss And A Babe, Step By Step, and La Pluie.
Not Me and The Eclipse predate the other shows by two years/one year respectively, but I feel it is valuable to include them here because both show very explicit negotiations of consent that I feel are spiritual successors to the wonderful scenes we’ve been getting in the other three shows.
Why am I even writing this? There used to be an unfortunate tendency in the genre to have a power imbalance between the “seme” and the “uke” character, which translated into the seme deciding when to have sex and what kind of sex to have—and even though recently, several shows have done good work in dismantling the seme/uke dynamic and questioning the associated stereotypes, it cannot be denied that the archetypes are still an important part of most BLs, and even in cases where the tropes are played with and questioned, understanding those subversions still requires a knowledge of and familiarity with the original tropes on the part of the audience.
However, gone are the days of Until We Meet Again and Dean’s “I’ve waited long enough, make sure you’re ready.” (I enjoyed UWMA a lot but that was. Yeah. Not Great.) Now, we see characters actually talking about and negotiating their limits, and doing what feels good to them.
Let’s start from the very beginning. Not Me was an absolute trailblazer in this regard, and not mentioning it here would be a gross oversight. The first time Sean and White have sex, it happens in their version of the beach episode. (Which, in Not Me, is the two characters briefly living in a tent inside an abandoned building. This show is the best.) Sean and White are removed from their usual environment and protected from the outside world by two barriers: the walls of the old house and the tent that’s literally enveloping them and giving them a space that is unequivocally theirs, shared, in which neither one of the characters has any sort of power over the other. And what happens in that space when they’re about to have sex is extremely interesting: the first thing Sean asks is whether White is afraid of him, which White denies. The following exchange goes like this: White: "So, what are we doing?" Sean: "What should I do to you?" White: "That’s up to you." (Watch the whole scene here.)
I find this exchange incredibly meaningful because this already turns the seme/uke dynamic that can be found in a lot of other shows on its head. OffGun as a branded pair can easily be stereotyped into the seme/uke dynamic just because of their physical appearances, and clearly spelling out that both characters have agency in this scene is incredibly important.
And then it gets better! Sean assumes that White is sexually inexperienced (which is not true but the fact that White was actually in a relationship with a woman back in Russia never comes up again after the pilot episode, so maybe the show expects us to assume this, too), and suggests they try different things and White can tell him what he likes and doesn’t like. Compared to the stuff we’re getting now, this scene isn’t very high heat at all, but it’s one of my favorite intimate scenes ever because them asking each other “Do you like this?” after every kiss, every touch, is so incredibly unique and transports a wonderful sense of figuring out sexual pleasure together, as a couple.
Sex in Not Me is not something one character does to another, it is something that is discovered and shared together, and we even get an afterglow scene in which they gently tease each other about their fast beating hearts. (And don’t get me started on the importance of White choosing to ask Sean whether Sean is okay with White not being like Black in that moment right before they have sex, because he doesn’t actually want to have sex with Sean as Black! He wants to discover and share intimacy with Sean as White, as himself, not as his brother! The layers!)
Anyway, I think that scene paved the way for a lot of the conversations around consent we’re now getting in BL, just because it is so explicitly, unashamedly putting forward a definition of sexuality that has nothing to do with one character actively giving and the other passively receiving, but frames intimacy as something that is built together. (More on giving and receiving later!)
Now, moving on to The Eclipse. I decided to include the first time Akk and Aye have sex for a different reason: while we don’t really see them actually talking about consent, we see them practicing non-verbal consent. Let me explain. Akk’s and Aye’s whole thing is teasing each other. At first, Aye is usually the one doing the teasing, but Akk gets the hang of it towards the end of the show and teases his boyfriend right back. When they’re in Akk’s childhood bedroom together, Aye clearly alludes to the fact that he thought they might use this opportunity to have sex for the first time, which Akk pretends not to understand, all while alluding to it himself. I love this guy. (Watch the whole scene here.) Anyway, Akk says he wants to sleep, lies down and once again, tells Aye jokingly he just wants to sleep, clearly expecting Aye to do what other BL protagonists do at that point and not take no for an answer (sidenote: I HATE the “saying no as foreplay” trope with a passion and as far as I’m concerned it should die already).
However, Aye is not like other BL love interests, and he backs off. He stops touching Akk, lies down with his back to Akk, showing Akk that he takes him by his word: if Akk says he wants to sleep, Aye is going to let him do just that. So now, it’s on Akk to say that, no, that’s not what he meant, can Aye please come back to cuddle. And then Akk is the one to escalate from cuddling to kissing, which is extremely important: we know that Aye has been ready to have sex with Akk since forever, it’s Akk who’s been having hangups about intimacy this whole time.
They don’t put consent into so many words on this show, but Aye shows Akk that he respects his limits and that Akk only has to tell him he doesn’t want to do something and Aye will take him at his word.
So, these are, to me, two foundational scenes of establishing consent: one that shows consent as something that is established verbally, as an ongoing conversation, and one that shows consent as something that is established physically, by showing your partner that you respect their choices and limits by way of simply acting accordingly.
Now, let’s get into the fun part: scenes we got so far in 2023. I’m writing this post on the 13th of June, and I’m sure this year still has some great things in store for us, especially because Step By Step and La Pluie are both ongoing and neither of the main couples are actually together yet at time of writing. However, they’ve both already given us AMAZING scenes on the topic of consent, so I feel it is worthwhile to write about those already.
I want to start off by talking about A Boss And A Babe.
Let me just preface this by saying that the intimate scenes in ABAAB are some of my all time favorites in BL ever, because in them, sex is something that is just so normal. When Gun and Cher have sex, we don’t see them very passionate, excited, reluctant or wide-eyed innocent (which are some of the emotions traditionally associated with sex in BL). On the contrary, in every single scene that shows them being intimate, both characters are incredibly calm. They’re certainly happy to be with each other, but in a subdued way. Someone described their second intimate scene as them seeming like they’ve been married for a few years. They’re both just… incredibly normal about having sex with each other. It’s simply something they like to do together. It’s a part of their romance but it’s not more or less important than any other aspects of their lives.
And consent is at the very heart of it.
When Gun and Cher have their first time, we see Gun explicitly asking for consent two times: first, “Can I kiss you?”, then, “Can I do more?” The second one even comes with the promise that if Cher says no, Gun will immediately go to sleep without mentioning it again. And then it is on Cher to say yes, to pull Gun close and kiss him to show him that he is comfortable with taking things further. (In the show, these two questions were shown apart from each other, I cut together a version of the whole First Time Scene in its entirety, watch it here.)
Now, things get more interesting: the second intimate scene shows Cher initiating the encounter (watch the whole scene here). Cher pretty consistently falls into the uke category, both physically and as far as characterization is concerned, but he’s certainly not shy in the bedroom. And this time, he’s the one who asks for consent from Gun: Gun asks “You’re starting it?” and Cher’s response is “Can I?” Despite him being framed physically lower than Gun, basically at Gun’s mercy, he still seeks confirmation that Gun is okay with the way things are going. Not to overstate it, but to me, this feels revolutionary. Once again, we’re being shown that sex is something two people do together, as a shared activity, and that the “seme” character isn’t expected to just be up for it. He, too, has the right to say no.
On this show, sexual agency is taken extremely seriously, and it is clear that both Gun and Cher give each other space to decide what they’re comfortable doing. This is shown in non-intimate scenes as well: there are so many moments on ABAAB in which the characters negotiate physical touch and closeness, asking each other for hugs before actually hugging each other, Cher leaning on Gun’s shoulder in the car but not allowing Gun to touch him because that’s not what he’s comfortable with in that moment, and so on. (The only exception to this otherwise pretty consistent rule is the kiss in the car scene, which I’m still extremely confused about because it seems to go completely against Gun’s character. Who knows what happened there.)
Of course, the fact that so much emphasis is placed on negotiation and consent isn’t surprising on a show that has such obvious kink undertones and whose Our Skyy 2 entry basically consisted entirely of Dom/sub roleplay at work—I’m just saying, I think someone on the writing team is way into BDSM and knows all about the importance of enthusiastic consent from all parties involved, and I would like to send them flowers.
Step By Step hasn’t really reached the point where we can analyse the dynamic between the main couple (although we can take some educated guesses based on the interactions we’ve seen so far). However, last week’s episode had an extremely important scene between Pat and Put: Pat wanting to have sex with Put, then changing his mind mid make-out (watch the whole scene here). I really like the way this scene was done. No matter how shitty Put treats Pat at times, in this instance, he immediately understood and respected Pat’s change of mind without Pat even saying or explaining anything—at the end of the episode, Put says to Pat that Pat should tell Put when he feels ready to have sex. (We already know this will never happen because of course, Pat and Put are not endgame, but I do appreciate the sentiment.)
BLs rarely include a whole storyline in which the protagonist is in an actual, serious romantic relationship with someone other than his endgame love interest (hi Moonlight Chicken!), or if they do then just to up the angst factor. In this case, however, I feel that this scene raises our expectations for Jeng even further: if the guy who is definitely not a romantic match for Pat treats Pat with this much respect in the bedroom, then Jeng has to do at least that and then some. I do feel confident that Jeng won’t disappoint in this regard, but it’s fascinating to see a show frame this kind of respect as the absolute baseline minimum, with the endgame love interest expected to do even better.
Now, the one you’ve all been waiting for. The one that made me write this whole essay in the first place: La Pluie.
Oh boy. Where to start.
A week ago, we got an incredible make-out scene on Saengtai’s floor, which ended in Patts stopping the encounter because he could tell Tai wasn’t really comfortable taking things further—@bengiyo talked about that scene in detail here. And then, three days ago, La Pluie gave us the most unique, trope-defying, timeline-changing blowjob scene of all time, and I want to talk about it.
Tai and Patts are making out on their bed, Tai is not ready to go “all the way” and stops Patts from undressing him. We see a very realistic frustrated reaction from Patts, who nevertheless immediately stops and accepts Tai’s wishes—it is clear that Patts does not expect things to go any further at this point, and that he won’t pressure Tai into anything.
And then, Tai offers to blow him.
(Unfortunately, this show is only on iQiyi so I can't link to it, but you can get a good impression of the scene here.)
I mentioned the concepts of giving and receiving earlier: other people have said this more eloquently than me, but there is a tendency not only in BL but also in wider society to view sex in terms of giving and receiving, with a lot of expectations and stereotypes attached to the roles during different sexual acts. On other shows, that blowjob might be framed as a consolidation or an apology, something that the giver does out of a sense of obligation without enjoying it much. Not so on La Pluie! Tai is shown incredibly happy and satisfied afterwards, both when they’re sleeping next to each other, as well as on the morning after (see also @ginnymoonbeam's post about that here). Tai offered to blow Patts because he simply wanted to, not motivated by guilt or anything of that sort. And he genuinely enjoyed it! In the post I linked above, @bengiyo points out that La Pluie consistently centers queer desire, or more specifically in this case, male desire for a male body; much in the same way that the camera fucking loves Force’s body on ABAAB: the sensuality of the skin, the hands, the abs, the flat chests, the broad backs and shoulders of these men is explicitly emphasized, and Tai’s desire for a dick in his mouth is made absolutely crystal-clear. Of course, since this is a TV show and not a porno, we only see Patts’s thumb in Tai’s mouth instead of his dick, but the imagery, the implications, are clear as day.
And it is such a gentle framing, too: Patts caresses Tai’s lip lovingly, Tai opens his mouth slowly, seductively, then faces Patts’s crotch with a soft look on his face. We do get a clear sense of this encounter as tender, and gentle, and most of all, desired. Tai’s queer desire is at the heart of this scene, and at the heart of the afterglow scene as well. He wanted this man’s dick in his mouth, openly suggested it, showed Patts he was sure about his decision after Patts asked him whether he was, and ended up clearly happy and satisfied with the sex they had. This post, also by @bengiyo, goes into more detail on that.
This, once again, shows us sex as a conversation rather than a series of predetermined acts, shows us sex as a shared activity, as something that can be wonderful and intimate and make people happy without following what society views as “the correct steps”. I think this is extremely important because one part of queer identity is figuring out one’s own relationship to sexuality, one’s own desires and needs, and BLs that ignore this aspect fall a little short in my opinion. Sure, those men are kissing, but do they experience queer desire? Do they experience joy in their queer desire?
For me personally, a show that does not shy away from these questions is a lot more meaningful than a show that does, and consent is at the heart of it all. By framing sex as a conversation, as something that is built and shared together, the shows I looked at here are actively positioning themselves against the idea that there should be predetermined roles for partners during sex, and instead suggest that queer joy can be found in communication and consent. Understanding sex and intimacy as something that is built together, with both partners as equals in conversation, is just as radically queer as a man waking up with a smile on his face after giving his soulmate a blowjob the previous night.
And quite honestly, a male character who clearly, passionately, unquestioningly communicates that he wants a dick inside of him—that is incredibly sexy. But maybe that’s just me.
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jamie-leah · 2 months
Text
Lifeline
Bucky x Reader Fic
Oneshot? Series? You tell me...
Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.
Word Count: 1,809
Warnings: Mentions of physical abusive, Abusive relationship, descriptions of panic attack, rusty writing, fluff
A/N: Thought I would dip my toe back in the water, see how you're all doing? Feel free to tell me if you want more and feel free to make requests. I need to get back into the swing of things!
Next Part--->
Masterlist of Masterlists
It’s been two months, and he still hasn’t found you yet. Despite the nightmares and the hypervigilance, you would call that a win. It’s the longest he’s gone without finding you. Maybe he’s given up? But deep down you know that isn’t the case. You humiliated him when you ran, left in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. There would be questions from the neighbours, friends and family. He would never let a slight like that go, and you know it.  
The bell dings above the door in the diner you’ve been working at since you arrived in New York. It brings you out of your head and into the present, to see Bucky walk through the door. You hadn’t realised that it was that time in your shift, looking over to the clock to confirm that it was in fact nine at night.  
You give him a smile. A small one, but the most genuine you’ve been able to manage since running from your ex almost a year ago now. He returns a full watt smile of his own. A smile you never see him give to anyone else, but you don’t look too deeply into that considering you’ve never seen him outside of this diner.  
He sits at the bar upfront to the counter where you already have his black coffee waiting, “you fancy any food? Kitchen is closing soon”, you ask.  
“I’ll take a plate of fries if there’s any going?”, his voice sending a tiny shiver down your spine that makes your toes curl ever so slightly. You are aware of this growing attraction you have to him since he started to come in here regularly a week after you started. And you hadn’t thought about anyone like that since...well since you started your relationship with Andrew around seven years ago.  
Bucky never said much the first few times he came in. He would just nurse a few cups of coffee at night and then leave but after two weeks like that he caught you on a particularly rough day. You were in the middle of a panic attack when he jumped into action and calmed you down and stared anyone down who might have looked or said anything.  
Since then, the damn broke and while you may have not told him about your ex, you both shared some personal titbits that would probably qualify you as friends rather than acquaintances. And ever since that time you told him you hadn’t had time for a break or a bite to eat, he orders fries and makes you share with him. He feigns that the portions are too big, and he needs your help to finish them off, but you know better. You don’t say otherwise, you’re grateful either way.  
When you place the fries in front of him, he asks, “busy tonight?”  
You shake your head as you pop a fry into your mouth, “not really. It’s always quiet on a Tuesday. How was your day? Save anyone today?”  
Bucky rolls his eyes at you. You had no idea who he was when he first came in. And Bucky still had to spell out who he was and why people stared at him in the diner. You were vaguely aware of superheroes, but Andrew kept you rather sheltered so you never knew who they were or the politics of them all.  
Bucky grabs the ketchup and squirts some on your side of the plate and some on his, “no missions today. You know I’m gone for a while when I am.”  
You sigh, because yes you do know he’s gone for a while when he has missions and its usually the longest days or sometimes weeks without him coming in every day.  
You shrug, “I don’t know, there was that time you saved someone from a car explosion on your way here.”  
You smirk as he groans at the mention of his heroics, “that was one time! I can’t believe that even showed on the news.”  
You throw a fry at his face, “I can’t believe I had to find out from the news! You didn’t say a word the entire time you sat here.”  
You laugh as you see a familiar blush creep up from his neck and blooms on his sharp cheeks, “I didn’t think it was a big deal”, he mumbles out.  
Someone walks in through the door, the familiar bell ringing. You walk from behind the counter as they take a seat at a booth. You squeeze Bucky’s shoulder as you pass by and murmur, “everything you do is a big deal to me.”  
You don’t wait for his reply or even a reaction as you head over to the couple talking quietly. You take their order and head over to the back and shout through to Kevin, “hey Kev, you got time for one more food order?”  
He pokes his head from the back, “sure thing”  
You pass him the slip and turn back to Bucky about to say something when a smash comes from the kitchen. You duck. No time to think, your body reacts on instinct, preparing for the worst while try to dodge the inevitable violence that is always directed at you.  
You stay crouched on the floor frozen in place, trapped in your mind at a time when you burned dinner for Andrew, and he threw places and cups all around the kitchen. Curled up on the floor, arms over your head trying to stop any shards from catching your face. You had to pick a few from your arms when he finally calmed down and left to go to the bar.  
Warm hands reach out to hold your face steady. You didn’t know your body was shaking until those hands held your face. So gentle in their touch you know they can’t be Andrew’s. You peek your eyes open and see beautiful, plump lips moving, forming shapes that should come out as words, but you don’t hear anything. Just rushing in your ears.  
It isn’t until your eyes glide up to the steel blue of Bucky’s that you let the air back into your lungs, the roaring subsiding until you hear his quiet murmurs, “you’re here, you’re safe with me. Come back to me.”  
Bucky feels you return to yourself more as your eyes dart around and your hands come to grip his tightly which are still holding your face. You manage a strangled, “I’m sorry” before your throat closes again.  
Bucky shakes his head, “nothing to apologise for.” 
When your whole body stops shaking, Bucky guides you back to a standing position. You glance over the counter, and no one is looking. They had no idea that your whole world suddenly came to a stop. No idea that you practically broke down over a broken plate in the kitchen.  
Bucky pulls your gaze back to his, “you with me?”  
You nod slowly, still not trusting your voice.  
Kevin puts the plates of food down on in the window without even looking before heading back to the kitchen. You reach out, your hands still shaking to take the plates but Bucky captures your hands with his. He links them for a few moments before placing them back at your sides. He takes the plates and heads over to the table you took the order from and delivers them with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.  
His false cheeriness is what starts to bring you back to yourself as you raise your eyebrows at his return, “why don’t you ever greet me like that?”  
He laughs, his head tipping back as he takes his seat again, “because you’re special.”  
“That’s what you say to all the girls”, you reply.  
And just like that the incident is gone. Not forgotten though, you don’t miss the way Bucky watches you more closely, the corners of his mouth set slightly lower now that he’s reminded of how broken you really are. He doesn’t ask, and you’re grateful for that. You’re not ready to talk about the monster that you try pretending doesn’t exist. But you never forget either.  
Bucky stays with you for the rest of your shift. He stands behind you like a bodyguard as you lock up the diner at one in the morning, just when the clubs really start getting busy. He makes a point to walk you all the way back to your apartment building and you don’t miss the frown he always gives it.  
You bump his arm with your shoulder, “it's not as bad as it looks, you know.” 
His face scrunches up, “if you say so. Still don’t like the thought of leaving you here though.”  
You bump into him again with a small smile, “careful Buck, some people might think you’ve gone soft.” 
You see his mouth twitch upwards as he replies, “only for some people.” 
You stare into the eyes that are staring back at you. You can feel them trying to tell you something, but you can’t quite understand. Or maybe you don’t want to because it doesn’t make sense. Someone like you doesn’t get to be happy, someone like you doesn’t get someone like him. You’ve never been that lucky.  
A horn blare down the street, as people whoop from the windows. It breaks the spell as you both turn to look with a small chuckle.  
“I better get inside, I’m beat.” You tell him as you point to your building.  
Bucky clears his throat, “Uh, yeah, definitely. I might be gone for a couple of days. A few things I need to take care of but I’m back on your day off...fancy hanging out?” 
The question almost trails off, but his stare remains intense. It dries up your throat as you open it and close it like a fish for a few moments.  
“It’s okay if you had plans, I just thought it might be nice to do something outside the diner and-”  
“I’d love to.”  
“And I was thinking we could- wait, really?” He looks to you as if he’s waiting for the punchline and it makes your heart ache.  
You give him a warm smile, “I’d love to do something. Despite being here for a few months, I haven’t seen much of New York so will be nice to get out with someone that knows it well.”  
His face splits in two to let out a huge smile, “Okay...okay, I’ll text you when I’m back?” 
You give him a nod and a shy smile, “yeah, sounds good. Goodnight Bucky.”  
His smile is so wide you don’t think he’ll be able to get any words out, so you turn and walk into your building, only glancing back once the elevator doors open to see him still stood there, smiling.  
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chouxsardine · 3 months
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Mariner's Complex -- Jake Kiszka x reader
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Summary: "Look for the lighthouse when you are lost, it will always bring you home. May the light in your soul guide you, may the love in your heart keep you strong." -- Jake is nervous before going on stage. You know just the right way to calm his nerves.
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader
Word Count: 2532
Warnings: 18+! minors be gone, mention of alcohol, mention of anxiety, public sex, unprotected penetrative sex, soft Jake (please let me know if I missed any!)
Genre: Smut, hurt/comfort (kind of)
Author's note: This piece is inspired by the gif above. I am smitten upon seeing it. This is my first time writing smut. It's about vulnerability, about receiving and giving love, lots of love. It is my fictional way of hoping that Jake is reminded of being one of the best guitarists out there and that he is loved by us. Deepest thanks to the wonderful @sacredjake for beta reading and for inspiring and encouraging me to pick up writing and post this. Please do yourself a favor and read her works; they're awesome beyond words. Enjoy!!
🎧: songs that pair nice with this piece: Lost at Sea by Lana Del Rey and Rob Grant; Mariners apartment complex by Lana Del Rey (can you tell I'm bad at titles now?)
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There’s just something about the air in the stadium before the concert; it feels like with every inhale, it immediately turns into adrenaline. With its graininess accentuated, one can almost sense the atoms buzzing in the air, like a shoal of sardines forming a bait ball, enclosing him, a cyclone where he is the eye. Is this what Josh means when he writes “carbon dancing through time” ?
His mind is racing a million miles a second; it’s like hoping onto a car with broken brakes, he’s bound to hit something in the hazardous terrain——
Knock knock. “Jake?”
As if someone pulled the switch, he is snapped back to reality. He immediately recognizes the voice of his lover. The sweetest sound in the world. His shoulder visibly relaxes, the corner of his mouth turning up, and his heart feels tender. He has always appreciated this—forever so considerate and thoughtful, always respecting his privacy even though they have already been together for so long.
“Come in!”
As expected, his lover’s face came into view, the familiar smile.
“I got you the salad you wanted!” You said, raising the white plastic bags in your hands.
You can tell he is anxious the moment you push open the door. Years of a committed relationship must have formed some kind of telepath between you two. You can almost sense it in the air. Is it a thing though? Like the service dogs that can smell it when their owner’s heart is beating too fast. Well, you know someone’s heart is certainly racing now.
You can’t quite figure out where his anxiety is coming from. They boys are at the middle leg of this tour. Is it from the traveling? Or maybe it has to do with his string snapping during soundcheck earlier? Or it could just be his brain playing tricks on him. And you respect that, even amazed or amused because you know it’s from the very same place where all the amazing melodies and witty remarks are born.
You spotted the glass on the vanity. Amber liquid barely covering its bottom, corresponding to the proportionate empty space in the newly-opened bottle of whiskey right next to it. You know Jake is never one to get plastered before going on stage. The alcohol is just a pacifier for his nerves. You follow his gaze to the white roses sitting in the vase. He’s remained quiet all this time, not even trying to hide his feelings, only giving you a smile through his reflection in the mirror. The comfortable silence hangs mellowly like willow branches, a mute radiation of his trust and vulnerability.
You set the bag aside and squat down in front of him, thumb brushing the back of his hand. You know better than to ask questions like “are you okay”. You know that right now your physical presence is already a comfort for him. You’d rather let him take the lead for the rest.
Jake tilts up your chin—a silent cue for kisses. You happily oblige, feeling his lips forming a smile upon contact with yours. He releases a contented sigh, pulling back after a moment. “I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah? You’ve got me now.” Now sitting across his lap, your hand rests gently on his cheek. Jake immediately leans into your touch like a cat, turning his head and pressing kisses into your palm.
“They already double-checked it. I’ll ask them to pay extra attention before the show starts, just to make sure.” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, revealing the little hoop dangling.
Jake hums, knowing you are referring to the snapped string earlier. Stupid mistake. His throat feels dry, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I——”
“Shh,” you give him a peck on the lips, “none of that. You don’t have to explain anything. Those feelings are valid. And they are temporary.”
Then a brilliant idea strikes you.
“We’ll take a walk, alright?”
“Here?” He cocks his head in slight confusion.
He immediately recognizes that you are giving him a taste of his own medicine. Well, in a good way. He knows you are talking about one of those “mental health walks” that he proposes when you are engulfed by the noises inside your head. But the backstage is not street gardens or some hiking trials in a park, how will that work?
“Yeah, you have time. Right?”
There’s indeed at least a good half an hour before the last sound check. He can’t argue with you. By the way, when were he ever able to say no to your invitations? This little genius mind of his lovers, constantly conjuring up the most amusing and endearing words and ideas like the hat of a magician. With a resigned smile, he caves in, placing his hands in yours.
“Come on, up you get, you lazy butt.” You step back and pull on his arm.
“Hey, you love this butt!” He protests in feigned grievance.
“Yup, can’t deny it’s a nice one.” You jokingly smack his ass as you follow him out of the dressing room, feeling happier hearing his banter, seeing him slowly getting back to himself. He’ll get there, you will make sure of it.
The corridors are generally quiet around this time, allowing the artists to rest before the real frenzy starts. Occasionally, stage crews pass by, rolling equipments boxes down the hall. You two swiftly move out of their way, hand in hand, strolling as if window shopping in the mall. You are entertaining Jake with a funny little incident you saw on your way to buy him food.
“You should’ve seen it, really,” you snort out a laugh recalling the scene, “that poor lady is struggling so hard and the shopping cart is just running away from her, loaded with two cases of Guinness!”
Jake is laughing with you, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. You turn to admire his profile, the apple of his cheek rising, the wrinkle to his nose deepening, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. There’s nothing you love more than seeing Jake smile and laugh, it never fails to create that fizzy feeling in your heart, like a bubble approaching the surface of a cream soda.
Having jumped out of your storytelling, your attention diverts back to the feeling of Jake’s arm snaking around your waist. Now his hands are sliding up your sides, from the small of your back to the sweet spot on your flank.
He turns to look at you. Upon meeting his gaze, you immediately pick up the implicit plea. His caramel eyes full of admiration, the edge of his iris grows fuzzy. His eyelashes flutter as his gaze falls to your lips.
You cover the distance between you with a kiss. This one is different from the one in the dressing room. The tip of his tongue tickles your bottom lip with small licks before him pulls back a bit and mutters under his breath, “Want you, want to be close to you.”
Once again, you are more than willing to indulge.
It’s just so convenient that you happened to be near the corner where a pilaster protrudes enough to hide you from the passersby. As your back hits the wall, your fingers are already tangled in Jake’s hair, holding him close. You are circled by him, his freshly applied cologne lingers, now well adapted to his skin, bergamot wrapping the hidden notes of pepper and cedar. Jake kisses along your jawline and traces downwards, creating a dotted line of kisses across your breasts and hovering over your navel. His hands tugging on the waist of your pants. As he unzips it smoothly, he dives back in with more kisses, nibbling on the material of your underwear.
“No,” you mumble, tugging on his elbow motioning him to stand up, “I want you in me.” You loved it when he goes down on you, but not now. Now you need it to be about him, you know he needs it too.
There is a halt in his movement, suddenly his eyes a shade darker.
“Yes, let it out, Jake.” You hold your forehead against his, making sure he hears every word certain and clear. Whatever it is, a much-needed release, a claim of territory, an outlet of his bundled nerves. “Use me. Fuck me.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Jake sucks in a breath.
You smirk, tilting your head back against the wall and surrendering more of your body to his arms. Jake’s hands on your thighs cover the coolness of your skin as your pants pool around your ankles. His knuckles tracing your heat through the fabric, the ghostly touch making you squirm.
“Please, Jake.” You loop your arms around his neck, raising up a leg pressing it into the side of his waist.
“So wet for me already, angel.” With frantic eagerness, he takes out his length and pulls your underwear aside. Your slickness draws his hard cock inside as he bottoms out in one firm and steady thrust. Jake was looking down as he enters you, his eyebrows creased in concentration, eyelashes throwing shadows under his eyes. He never fails to marvel at the way your bodies connect, it catches him in awe every time no matter how many times you have fucked, just as you are exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s like moonlight spilling behind clouds. You are the only object of his vision.
“Yes!” You mouth silently as he starts moving, him picking up the pace almost instantly as if placed in a running wheel. Jake’s head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath radiating and him lapping up at whatever area of skin he comes in contact with. His arm goes under your knee and finds leverage on the wall, the other hand holding onto your pelvis, pinning you in place. The rough texture of the brick wall rubs against your back along each shudder, magnifying the titillation deep inside you.
You feel like with each thrust his insecurity and anxiety ebbs away like the snaky morning fog, replaced by his confidence and charming self: the one you know will work his magic on stage tonight just like ever, the one that will make the entire stadium shake and roar just by his fingers moving across six strings, the one that proves both to the world and to himself again and again that “it could be done”.
You can feel him swell and twitch against your walls, you squeeze you thighs and clench, knowing he’s getting close. The spasms of his cock tickling that particular spot to the point of no return, the ecstasy washing over you like a cascade. The whines and screams rolling and tumbling in your chest like a pot of boiling water, threatening to jump out of your mouth. You roll your eyes back and swallow them down, releasing only one suppressed moan of “let go, baby” against Jake’s ear, and that is enough to send him over the edge.
With one jerk of his body, he cums hard. You can feel the additional thickness of his release almost dripping down your crotch. Jake’s whole weight falls towards you with the hunch of his shoulders. His chest presses firmly against your body, its rise and fall teasing your still hard nipples.
You hold his head against your chest as he comes down from the high, fingers brushing away the naughty strands of hair that have flown into the corner of his mouth and stuck to his cheek.
“As much as I would like to stay here forever, you really have to get going. They must be looking for their rockstar everywhere.” You chuckle while shimmying out of your rumpled underwear, using it to clean up.
“Damn.” Jake leans back against the wall as he watches you, still on cloud nine and short of words. For a moment, all he can do is look at you.
“Stop staring.” You nudge him, unable to stop blushing facing his caramel eyes filled with unadulterated adoration. You bet if you could reach into them, you would find a handful of stars. Plus, Jake looks exceptionally beautiful post-fuck, the upturn at the corners of his mouth accentuated the curve of his cupid’s bow. The smug smirk is counterbalanced by the rosy blush on his cheekbones, a tell-tale sign of his satiated desire. Good. That’s what you’d expected and what you’d like to see.
Jake cups your face in both of his hands as he leans in for a kiss. This time, almost childish, his pouted lips pepper all over, the bilabial “mwah” is especially pronounced, causing you to giggle again.
“Quite the walk, huh?” You insinuate.
“Well, now I prefer to call it the ‘mental health fuck’,” Jake slowly straightens his back, resembling a cat stretching after a content nap. “Catch you on the flip side, my love.”
He was already a couple of strides away when he rushes back to kiss you again, catching you in surprise. Aggressive and fervent in his actions, but oh so gentle when his mouth meets yours. This is the type of kiss where he takes the lead, and you are completely at his mercy. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, and his teeth softly bite your lower lip. It’s a kiss that steals your breath and your heartbeat away for tits entirety . “You know you are my lighthouse, yeah?” He stares right into your eyes, his voice low and husky. “ You always guide me back when I’m lost at sea. My Leucothea, my Lady of Luck.”
You feel a lump in your throat, and every word goes straight to your heart. The feelings there are so overwhelming that they rise and swell like tidal waves. It;s so much love that it makes you want to cry.
“Gosh, Jake, such the poet.” That all you manage to say.
“Because you’re my muse, my angel,” Jake smiles again as he steps back one last time. “And now it’s time for me to set sail again, yeah?”
“Aye aye,” you blow him a kiss, “Fair Winds, Captain.”
You watch as he leaves. The Starcatcher symbol on his back standing tall and proud. The crystal embellishments on his jacket scintillate, jet crystals and glass beads shimmers, reflecting the lights like a thousand stars falling onto his shoulders. He is the warrior that breaks their fall, wearing them proud as a crystal armour. You watch as he marches forward, carrying on his shoulders the weight of dreams. Your dearest rocker, the bravest captain.
For Jake, the atoms are still buzzing, but now he can feel them moving rhythmically, like the joyful wings of a hummingbird or the secret dance of bees. They delivering a yet undecipherable but nonetheless auspicious message. Soon he will be going on stage, carrying a heart full of love from his lover, so he can give all his love to his fans out there. And he knows if he looks, he will find you among the crowd, a cluster of flame, a powerhouse of love.
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Thank you so much for reading!! :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated.
The description of Jake's jacket is heavily relied on this post
kudos to who spotted the TLSP reference hehe
If you are in need of some fluff, feel free to check out my another Jake pieces: Permission to Fall || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones
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moonjxsung · 4 months
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I was curious which love trope would you give to each skz member 🫠
I LOVE THIS QUESTION okay hear me out:
Chan: Best friend’s brother. He just gives super sweet guy who comes around your place a lot because your brother’s there, but he won’t hesitate to flirt with you in passing and ask about your day. And eventually it turns into you guys both falling for each other (I literally have a fic of this exact trope and am 15k words into it I’ve been working on for months I NEED TO FINISH IT FFS)
Minho: Opposites attract/“I hate everyone except you”. He’s a little quiet and reserved and you’re a mess, you’re loud and you love him so openly and vocally. You purposely fluster him in public and shower him in affection and he secretly loves it though he’ll pretend not to. He’s never been loved like it before and it instills this overwhelming feeling in him he could never begin to explain. When it’s just the two of you alone he won’t hesitate to make it known how grateful he is for you. You two against the world fr
Changbin: Work adversaries to lovers. He’s the loud, persistent coworker you can’t stand and you guys get paired to do some big project together. He’ll eventually break down your walls and find out you’ve been hurt before and through late night bar trips and working on your project in office after hours you guys will fall for each other. Maybe also because I like imagining Changbin in a suit and glasses a little too much
Hyunjin: Love at first sight. The minute you see him you’re absolutely smitten with him. He looks like straight up poetry, he has soft soft expressions and beautiful features and you just have this urge to know him and get close to him. And lucky for you Hyunjin believes in love at first sight too so when he catches you staring, he’s enamored, too. Doesn’t take long before you guys are approaching each other and arranging for a date and pretty soon it’s like you’ve always known him.
Jisung: Friends with benefits to lovers. People love the friends to lovers trope but I think Jisung starts out as a physical endeavor for you after you guys meet a party or something because physically you just can’t get enough of him. Slowly turns into jealousy when he talks about other girls or can’t see you one weekend. You guys will definitely end up adjusting your rules to stay exclusive to each other and then Jisung will find that he’s really fucking smitten with you and he doesn’t want anyone else. So much fluff but the sex is A1
Felix: First love. Hands down. Felix’s little crush is so mutually reciprocated because he’s an absolute sweetheart and he makes the most kind, grand gestures to win you over. Felix grew up with sisters so trust that he gets veryyy sagely advice about what you want for gifts or what little gestures he can do to earn your trust and your love. It’s kind of dizzying when you guys start dating bc it’s like?? What did I do to deserve this person??? And it’s just safe, healthy, fully reciprocated, beautiful flourishing love !!
Seungmin: Best friends to lovers. He’s constantly texting you, hanging out with you, arranging hangouts with you and just catching up on every detail of your life. He’s bringing you dessert at 3 in the morning after you said you were craving something specific. He’s dropping off his jacket at your cubicle at work because it’s raining and you didn’t dress for the weather. He catches himself talking about you to everyone and people start to know it before you guys even do. Dating him comes so naturally because he’s your best friend before he’s even a lover. Absolute sweetheart to you always
Jeongin: Boy next door/neighbor. Your families knew each other growing up and you grew up hanging out with Jeongin. Chasing after the ice cream truck together, going to the park together, chatting while your moms caught up with each other. Maybe you separate for a while when you guys start college or something but by the time you see each other again, there’s so much attraction and chemistry like never before. He can’t stop thinking about you, and the little hangouts turn into dates where you relive those memories. Picnics at the park, ice cream dates, catching up while your parents have dinner. You never expected to be dating him down the line but it’s so much fun bc you already know him so well!
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harryscherrypie · 2 years
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You pop, when we get intimate
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husband!Harry Styles x fem!reader
summary - how your moans made their way into the background of cinema
warnings - smut, poorly written, slight voyeurism? Harry wants to put your moans in a song so yeah, fluff
wordcount - 2,8k
a/n - Oh god, this one physically drained me. I've been writing it since like august, but the smut never came out right, I hope you like this one, my second smut ever and I'm still a bit awkward writing it so patience, please.
If you have any feedback on my writing, please let me know, it would help tremendously,
Hope you enjoy it.
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“You want to what?” You almost screeched as you looked at Harry with wide eyes.
“You heard me right,” he smirked.
You knew Harry could be unhinged when it came to his music. In his previous work, he wasn’t afraid to use intimate bits and pieces of your relationship, just to complete the storytelling. But this was too much, even for him.
“You are absolutely crazy,” you laughed and shook your head.
He had to be joking. Right?
This wasn’t what you were expecting today. You and Harry were both at home. You were working on a project for work and he was working on songs in his home studio. After being locked away in there for about 5 hours straight he came out into the kitchen and nonchalantly asked the craziest question you’ve ever heard.
“Will you let me put your moans into one of my songs?”
“Look, we don’t have to do it, I understand if you are uncomfortable, but I think it would go in the song perfectly,” he shrugged as he moved closer to the couch, where you were sitting. He crouched in front of you and you opened your legs to make space for him between your legs.
“I don’t know Har,” you mumbled as you leaned closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. It was an awkward position but you didn’t mind, you were glad to finally have him with you after he spent the few previous hours locked away in his studio.
“As I said, baby, if you are uncomfortable, it’s out of the window, you know I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he kissed your cheek gently and placed his forehead against your temple.
“Let me think about it hm?” You asked and he nodded happily.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours softly.
----
That was 2 weeks ago, and to be honest, you thought about his question non-stop. You roughly knew what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to put your moans to the forefront of the song. He wanted them in the background, just loud enough to slightly hear over the music, he didn’t think anyone would catch onto them after the first listen, and that calmed your mind slightly.
Harry was spending the night at his studio in the city when you decided to agree to his proposition. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend nights at the studio. He always said that he felt the most inspired when he worked alone and during the night, and you could understand that.
You retyped the text a few times before you hit send. Just a couple of minutes later, a long voice message came from Harry.
“Oh my God, are you for real? Are you 100% sure? I don’t want you to do this just because I wanted it, please tell me you are sure,” even though he sounded concerned, you could hear a tinge of hope and happiness in his voice.
“Yes, I am sure, I know you would never do anything to hurt or embarrass me, I trust you with my life, Harry,” you sent back a voice message and quickly moved to gather your stuff and get to the studio.
It wasn’t far away, only about 15 minutes from your shared apartment. You listened to a podcast you started listening to while you were working earlier that day as you drove towards the studio.
You parked in the parking lot beside the studio and got out. The lights in the entire building were out, only reassuring you that Harry was in the building alone, maybe except for a couple of security guards, who were going to stay on the bottom floor, so it didn’t bother you.
You walked into the building and greeted the security guard who had a shift that night. You handed him your ID for him to check your name on the list of people who have access and wished you a good night.
You took the elevator to the rented studio, which was on the 8th floor. As the elevator slowed down, you called Harry to let you in.
“Hey, I’m here, can you let me in please?”
“Of course, love, I’m going to be right there,”
You only waited for about 2 minutes, before the door opened up and your husband appeared.
“Hey,” he smiled and pulled you towards him. He rested his chin against your shoulder as he gently swayed your bodies from side to side. You reveled in the feeling for a few moments before he slowly pulled away.
“Come on,” he tugged on your hand and pulled you into the studio with him.
He locked the door behind the two of you and led you towards a small couch in the back of the room. He sat down, pulled you right on top of him in one fluid motion, and rested his palms on your hips.
“I missed you,” he mumbled as he peppered small kisses around your face.
“I missed you too,” you smiled and rubbed his back gently.
“Baby, are you absolutely sure?” He asked concerned.
“Do you want me to change my mind? Because it sounds like you do,” you teased as you swiped your fingers around the surface of his cheeks.
“Let me get things ready, drink some of my tea if you want, it should be still hot,” he smiled and handed you the mug full of herbal tea.
You took the mug into your hands and blew on the tea gently. You watched Harry as he toyed with the soundboard and the computer from the couch. After a few minutes, you placed the mug on the table in front of you and stood up.
You moved towards him as quietly as you could, trying to scare him. He squealed lowly as you dug your fingers into his sides. You wrapped your hands around him while he quietly laughed at your antics. You raised to your tippy-toes and placed your chin on his shoulder.
“You little minx,” he smiled and opened up a program on his computer screen.
“Are you done?” You asked and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Almost, be patient,” he mumbled. Your eyes wandered from the screen to the profile of Harry’s face. You allowed yourself to admire him for a while before he spoke up.
“I can see you staring,” Harry said absentmindedly.
“I am getting bored and horny, so hurry up,” you whined jokingly.
“I am done, the mic is on, we can go in,” he turned around and pulled you into him. He kissed you gently, and unhurriedly. Even though the both of you knew what was going to happen in the next few minutes, the kiss didn’t get steamy. It stayed soft and gentle as if to bring each other comfort.
“You can still say no, you can always say no, I won’t get mad,” he reminded you as he placed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes in bliss.
“I know,” you rolled your eyes. “You told me like 5 times already,” you joked and he ‘tsked’ and raised your chin to keep you looking at him.
“I want you to be comfortable, and know that you can back out anytime you feel like it is becoming too much,” he stroked your cheek. You nodded in acknowledgment and tugged at his hand.
“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” you said.
“Eager, are we?” he teased but complied and let you lead him to the booth.
“You were hopeful, weren’t you?” You teased when you saw the inside of the booth. There were blankets and pillows strewn across the floor, with some towels and water bottles to the side. Your heart fluttered. You couldn’t have asked for more. The fact that he went out of his way to do this to try and make you feel more comfortable made your heart squeeze inside your chest.
“Guess you could say I had a hunch,” he winked jokingly and pulled you into the booth. He pulled you to sit down on the floor which was cushioned by the soft pillows.
“It’s so cozy, I love it,” you mumbled as you ran your hands over the soft fabric around you.
“Only the best for you, my love,” he smiled.
“C’mere baby, let me kiss you,” Harry pulled you onto his lap and quickly pressed his lips to yours. You stayed like that for a while. Pressed up against each other, lips moving against each other.
“Turn around baby, sit between my legs, it’s going to sound better that way,” he whispered into your ear and you complied. You shifted your weight and turned around, careful not to hurt him. You nested between his legs and pressed your back against his chest. You felt him lean against the wall behind him and get comfortable.
When the both of you got comfortable, you turned your head to the side, so you could face him.
“How are we going to do this?” You asked curiously.
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to be able to fuck you unless I want all of the moans in the background to be mine, so that’s out of the window,” he grinned and kissed your neck.
“Yeah, you tend to be just a tiny bit loud,” you smiled and raised your hand with a small space between your thumb and pointer finger.
“Get your shirt off, woman,” he jokingly ordered and you raised your hands above your head.
“Get it off yourself,” you smiled. The shirt landed somewhere to your right. You didn’t have time to look because Harry pulled you into a kiss immediately after the shirt stopped touching your skin. He didn’t waste any time and cupped your breasts in his hands. He kneaded the soft flesh roughly, making you moan into his mouth.
“So beautiful,” he mumbled against your lips as he ran the tips of his fingers over your stomach and hips. You moaned at his praise softly and raised your hips off of the ground slightly, trying to tell him you wanted him to slide your sweat pants off of your legs.
Harry knew you like the back of his hand, and immediately understood what you wanted from him.
“Raise your hips for me, love, just a bit,” he murmured against the side of your face and you complied, air leaving your lungs at his words, wrapping your arm around the back of his neck to get some stability. He swiped the fabric of both sweat pants and your underwear from underneath your butt, and down your legs.
“Straighten your legs,” he ordered and you did, just for him to hook his knees around your legs and pinning them to the ground, spread out. You let out a shaky breath, tensing up from the sudden cold feeling touching your hot core.
“Relax against me, and let me do the work,” you nodded your head desperately and you laid your head against his shoulder, burrowing your face in his neck.
At first, he didn’t do anything. His slight touches were teasing and almost non-existent, dancing over your heated naked skin.
As his hand traveled down, over your thigh, it nestled itself on your inner thigh, incredibly close to where you needed him, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
He was so, so close when he suddenly started to pull away. In the deep feeling of desperation, you forcefully closed your legs and pried them from underneath his, with a loud whine.
“Please, don’t do this to me,” you whined and Harry tsked disapprovingly.
“Be good for me, or you won’t get anything,” he threatened, and you nodded understandingly. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, after all, he needed this but you knew the longer you would misbehave the longer it would take for him to properly start.
he pined your legs underneath his again, this time a lot firmer than before and his hand went back to the place it was before.
This time around, he didn’t waste any time and dived straight in. He pulled your hood apart with two fingers, leaving your pulsing clit uncovered in the slightly cold air of the recording booth. He smeared your wetness over his fingers and started rubbing soft circles on your clit, making you lean back into him a little more, feeling a jolt of electricity flash over your spine.
“Is that good lovie?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded vigorously, letting a breathless moan tumble out of your mouth. He didn’t take his time easing you into the feeling, as he started rubbing your clit a bit more roughly.
You didn’t understand how he did it, but you already felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. The feeling of the cold rings pressing against your heated skin only made the motions of his skilled fingers make you feel so much better.
You could feel his fingers starting to explore, the thumb circled your clit and the rest went downwards until you felt them prodding against your wet hole.
“Please, give me your fingers,” you moaned out and he kissed the side of your head.
“Be patient,” he murmured.
He teased you, only letting the tips of his finger dip into you before he pulled them away, only focusing on your clit.
You couldn’t wait anymore, you gripped his wrist and looked him in the eyes, with a pleading look on your face.
“Please,” you whispered and he rolled his eyes, nodding, as if annoyed. You let go of his wrist, settling back against him.
He dipped his fingers in you again, going deeper this time. You spread your legs slightly more, trying to take as much of his fingers as you can. You moaned loudly when his fingers prodded against the sensitive spot inside you. The motion made you grip the loose fabric of his grey sweat pants you could almost feel him smirk behind you.
“Oh, God,” you whispered out as you fought against the flutter of your lashes, struggling against the urge to close your eyes in absolute bliss.
He quickly moved his fingers in and out of you, thumb on your clit, trying to graze the sensitive spot as much and as best as you could. Soon, you were a moaning and whining mess, too close to your orgasm to let out anything except the gasps of his name.
You were so, so close. The feeling in your belly almost too much to bear.
“Let go for me my love, cum for me,” he whispered against your ear.
You tried to hold off for a while, wanting to enjoy his touch for a bit longer, but you couldn’t it wasn’t possible.
You let go with a loud moan as the hot blinding pleasure hit you, making you see galaxies for a few moments. You desperately tried to close your legs around his hand, but this time, he was ready and didn’t let your legs slip from his. Harry continued to rub your clit even after your orgasm, making you whine and try to get away from him.
You felt sleepy. Your eyes were too heavy to keep them open and your limbs felt too heavy to move on your own. You felt yourself being moved. From between Harry’s legs to laying on a fluffy pillow with a warm blanket draped over you. You felt Harry slip away from you, and you tried calling out for him.
“M’just going to turn the mic off, I will be back in a minute, I promise darling, then I’ll clean you up,” he promised lovingly and you nodded, snuggling into the soft fabric of the pillow underneath your head.
He was right, after about a minute you could feel his presence again as the pillows around you shifted underneath his weight.
“I need to pull the blanket off, prepare,” he warned and you braced yourself for the chilly feeling.
You were grateful he cleaned up very quickly. He quickly wiped you up, and slipped your underwear on, mumbling encouraging words when you flinched away from being too sensitive.
“Sit up for me,” he gently ordered and pulled you up to rest against him. He opened the water bottle only an arm's length away from him and placed it against your lips, urging you to drink just a little. You took a few sips, but soon grew tired of it, and tried to lay down again. This time, he laid down with you. He threw a blanket over your bodies, snuggling your almost bare form to his, gently brushing his hand over your hair in soothing motions.
“Did so good for me, my best girl,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses around the back of your neck.
“At least credit me for the song,” you joked weakly, making Harry’s laugh the last thing you heard before you slipped into a well-deserved slumber.
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This is it folks, hope you liked it, please reblog and like to let me know, it makes me very happy to see.
Anyway, thank you for reading <3
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