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dreamcatchers-husband · 9 months

Text

Jitters

Male Reader X Fromis_9 Saerom

Length: 2600+ words

Tags: Roomates, Fuck buddies, Mommy kink, Creampie

A/N- Saerom has always caught my attention so I had to make her a fic. At least a quckie.

Do you ever get the jitters? Get nervous?

People get nervous for a lot of different reasons. Job interview? Getting on a roller coaster? Riding a plane?

For you, it was none of these. The cause of your nerves was two simple words. First date. When the girl said yes, you were beyond excited but the jitters came once you began to head home. Your shoulder hit several people as your eyes were stuck on your phone screen. After each apology, you continued the walk home, planning on what to do with your date.

Eventually, you arrived at your apartment complex and walked to the front door. Once you passed the door, your legs brought you over to the elevator where you waited for the metal cage. Your travel up the elevator was uneventful as your legs continued to tap up and down nervously.

With a ding, your eyes looked up and saw the number 14. Recognizing it as your floor, you stepped off and rushed to your door. Once your golden metal key entered the keyhole, you turned it counterclockwise and unlocked the door.

With your shoulder pushing it open, your feet moved forward and rushed towards your living room. Once there, your eyes began to search for a nice brown bookcase that lived in that part of your home. Once your eyes saw it, your mind took over as you pulled the doors open and found a large black safe that sat there.

Raising your hand, the various beeps from the safe echoed in your ear. Punching The code 0124 made the green light appear as well as a clicking sound. Pulling the safe open, you found a couple of stacks of money as well as a wallet. Grabbing your black leather wallet, you opened it and pulled out a green card.

With the card now in your possession. You fished out your personal wallet from your pants and put it in one of the slots. The brown from the wallet faded with time but you still loved how big it was as well as convenient compared to others. Just as your wallet went back into your pocket, the sound of a door caught your attention. With the door, footsteps followed that got closer and closer. Finally, a voice was heard as a figure appeared.

“Why the hell is there so much noise?”

“Sorry Saerom. I needed to get my other credit card.”

“You hate using that one. You always complain about the interest rate. Is something wrong? Do you need new tires? I told you those used one-“

“I don’t need new tires, Saerom. This is great news. She said YES!”

“Who said yes? The librarian if the book you had on hold was finally returned?”

“NO. She finally said yes. I can take the girl of my dreams on a date!”

As your hand closed the metal door to the safe, your body turned around and was met with the brown-haired woman. Her outfit immediately stuck out to you as your eyes went up and down her body. The black top cut short just above her midriff, giving you the slightest tease of her amazing abs. The navy green skirt didn't do any better at hiding her body. Despite being on the shorter side. Her legs looked long and soft. They were for sure soft. Of course, you would know with the amount of times they have been wrapped around your head.

“Oh, why are you dressed up Saerom?”

“Oh, I was just trying on some clothes for the next time we go out to get drinks. So you finally got a date with Hayoung huh?”

“Yes! It’s even today. Look, I need to go shower so I’ll talk to you later.”

Not waiting for a response, your legs pushed forward towards your room. Your hands moved faster than you thought ever possible, removing the clothing from your body. Guess just a plain shirt and joggers helped with this also. Normally your body would be covered by a bathrobe at this point, but all reason was gone in your mind. With nothing on, your legs ran across the hallway and pushed their way into the bathroom.

As you shut the door behind you, your arm then extended out and pulled the door to your glass shower. Turning the dial on the shower wall, the chrome wheel moved from the blue to the red section, changing the water temperature. After touching the water a few times with your fingers, your desired temperature finally arrived.

Hoping in, the warm water began to roll off your back as you closed the door. Stepping fully into the water, your face looked up towards the shower head, and let the water pour over the rest of your body. Reaching to the left; your hand grabbed the bar of soap sitting and lifted it. As your head began to move away from the water, your hand began to raise the soap to your body until a noise caught your attention.

Looking behind you, Saerom entered the shower with you. The smirk on her face was setting off all the alarms in your head.

“S-Saerom. What are you doing here? I need to…”

“Hey. It’s good for the environment to save water. Let’s shower quickly.”

Taking the bar of soap from your hand, the young woman began to run the white bar over her body. As the soap moved down from her arms, the bar began to lather over her toned abs and moved up. Saerom didn’t have the biggest breasts but she certainly had a pair you loved. In circular motions, the lather began to form around her perky mounds.

A small giggle left Saerom’s mouth as she pulled your head up. Making eye contact, your roommate gave you a wink and brought the soap to your chest. Just as she did on her chest, the young woman began to rub the soap in circular motions on your body. You were about to say something until your friend spun your body around. The same action as before continued on your back. The smooth touches were very relaxing, causing you to close your eyes and get stuck in thought.

The relaxing feeling continued until you felt a couple of nubs on your back. Saerom had her breasts on your back. As your eyes shot open, the young woman’s arm touched your abs and began to work its way down.

“S-Saerom. We shouldn’t.”

“Doyoon. You know Hayoung is a great friend of mine. She has a rule about the new guys she dates. No sex until 6 months of dating. This is me doing you a favor.”

Saerom’s delicate fingers finally reached your length, wrapping around it in one swoop. Your whole body jolted a bit from the sudden touch on your cock.

“Look here, sweetie. The throbbing from your cock lets me know you like this. Why don’t you fuck my pussy one last time? Just for old time's sake.”

“B-But Hayoung w-will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Then we better get started.”

The soap on both of your bodies had already washed off in that time. Dropping to her knees, Saerom turned you around once more and looked up at you. Your roommate's hand began to move up and down, getting you harder than before. Bringing her upper body closer, Saerom brought out her tongue and inched it closer and closer until it made contact with your tip.

A quick flick to your tip sent shivers down your spine, causing a small whimper to leave your mouth. Saerom took this as her sign to continue as her tongue moved down your shaft from the left then the right, Saerom’s tongue continued to get your cock wet all over.

Without any warning, Saerom then plunged her mouth on top of your tip and moved it down her throat. Your hands immediately took hold of your roommate's head and gripped onto her hair. All reason was gone as your hips began to move back and forth into Saerom’s mouth.

With each thrust into the young woman’s mouth, the more your body began to shake. Taking the lead, Your friend put her hands on your legs and began to shove your length down her throat. Normally your roommate wouldn’t get to deepthroating off the bat, but Saerom knew you had a time constraint.

Matching her movements, your hip would thrust your length into her throat as she pulled you in as deep as possible. After a couple of times, you decided to pull your cock out of her mouth and give her time to breathe. The sudden slap to your ass caught your attention and brought your vision back down. The scowl on Saerom’s face made you scared.

“Who said to stop fucking Mommy’s face? You will stop when I say you stop.”

The sudden warmth from Saerom’s mouth returned around your length. The constricting feeling around your rod was amazing as Your roommate vigorously moved her mouth up and down your shaft. Your hands were suddenly raised once more and brought to the side of Saerom’s head. The glare you got earlier returned. She wanted her face to be fucked.

Not wanting to disappoint your mommy, you began to thrust with your hip once more. Just like you were slamming into her pussy, your cock continued to get constricted around. As you continued this action, a small sound began to hit your ears. Sure, you were in a shower but this sound was different.

Looking down, your eyes noticed Saerom’s hand down on her pussy. The sounds were of her playing with herself. Saerom needed this just as badly as you did right now. Bringing your hips back, Saerom let go of your legs and brought one hand up to your length.

Your roommate's tongue returned to your tip and began to move in circular motions around it followed by some strokes from her hand. Standing back up, Saerom laid her back on the shower wall and signaled you to come closer. The air got heavy as you inched closer and closer to Saerom.

Finally, in front of her, the young woman wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled your head to her neck. Your instincts took over as you began to pepper her neck with small kisses and bites. As you moved further and further down, you felt Saerom’s finger around your cock again. Your cock head began to feel the sticky mess leaking from Saerom’s folds.

“Put that cock in Mommy one last time. Don’t keep me waiting.”

With a push, your tip began to plunge into Saerom’s cunt. The slick from the woman’s folds leaked onto the rest of your rod as you filled her. A gasp left Saerom’s mouth as you stood there for a few seconds. Pulling back, your strokes began to repeat little by little like you did with her mouth before.

The warm comforts of her pussy were removed from your mind as Saerom pulled your neck back from hers. A sudden slap to the face shocked you as Saerom tightened her hold on your neck.

“Stop being a pussy and fuck me. Or do you want your date to come here while you’re balls-deep in my cunt?

With those words of encouragement, you brought your hips back and shoved your length down her tunnel. With your hands holding her up, your cock began to shove your length down her cunt repeatedly. With each thrust, your speed increased until you were at a steady pace, in and out of Saerom.

The sound of grunts and moans was all that could be heard with the running water. Your constant pace was good, but not enough for your roommate. The young woman began to move her hips to match your own, filling her as best as possible. Your length could feel the construction around it as her walls tried to keep you inside her at all costs.

“T-That’s a good boy. You always have such an amazing cock for mommy. T-The perfect length, and girth. F-Fuck even the throbbing from your length is perfect. S-Stay here. Why don’t you just fuck Mommy’s pussy forever?”

The offer was tempting. Saerom’s pussy was something you had almost every day and it never disappointed. Still, you had to grow up one day and Hayoung was your chance at a real relationship.

“I-I’m sorry Mommy but Hayoung is almost here and I’m really close.”

“Tsk. Fine. Then you better make me cum one last time before you do.”

Knowing you had no other option, you began to speed up your waist and move faster than before. Moving one of your hands down to her folds your length pulled out of her snatch, exposing the little nub you were looking for. Now found, your fingers began to rub on your roommate's clit as your cock continued to piston in and out of her.

The circular motions from your fingers combined with your cock’s actions caused the moans from Saerom to increase. Your grunts began to match the sounds from Saerom as both your fingers and cock increased in pace.

“F-Fuck. You’re close sweetie, aren’t you? Me too. J-Just a bit more and you can empty those balls in my pussy.”

A slap to your ass motivated you to give it all you had left. All of your adrenaline shot throughout your body in that moment as you fucked Saerom as ferociously as humanly possible. Your hips could almost break at the rate you were shoving in and out of your roommate. A loud yell hit your ears as you felt a sudden pressure around your shaft. A rush of fluids hit your legs as Saerom began to jolt all over the place.

“F-FUCK!”

Saerom’s nails began to scratch your back as her climax was achieved. Saerom’s orgasm was the catalyst to achieve your own peak, causing you to yell as well. As your cock throbbed, ropes of semen left your tip and filled Saerom to the brim. As the twitches from your cock finished, the two of you were left panting for air.

With a laugh, you both stood up straight and grabbed the soap again. Your shower had to be a quick one as your date would be there soon, so after 3 minutes you both hopped out. Running towards your room, you quickly entered and noticed a nice outfit placed on the bed. Saerom must have set it out while you first showered.

Putting on the nice dress shirt and pants, you made your way to the living room and found Saerom relaxing on the couch. Your roommate was in pajamas yet it perfectly fit her curves, just like any other outfit. Standing up, the young woman walked over and began to fix a few things on your outfit.

“OK then. You look nice. Have fun. This is your last chance to just stay here with me though.”

“That sounds fun but this is what I want.”

With a knock at the door, Saerom pulled you closer and kissed you on the lips, one final time. Pulling back, the girl walked with you to the front door. Hayoung was familiar with your home so it was an easy meet-up place. As the door opened, you were met with the cutest girl you had ever seen, fit with a beautiful white dress.

“Oh hi, Saerom. D-Doyoon. You look really nice.”

“Y-You look amazing Hayoung.”

“Well then. You two have fun and be safe out there OK?”

“Yes, captain!”

With a nod, you made your way out the door and looked at Hayoung.

“Let’s go!”

As you walked away with Hayoung, your mind went back to Saerom and the activities you indulged in earlier.

You surely are gonna miss having sex for six months.

#smut #kpopsmut #female idol smut #fromis9smut

909 notes · View notes

actuallysaiyan · 5 months

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BACONNNNNNN I HAVE A REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT

can we get some choso and reader trying to fuck discreetly at a party? 🤭 them being caught or not is up to you 😘😉

warnings: alcohol, smoking weed, vaginal fingering, Choso is a little cocky but mostly cause he's scared to fuck shit up, college AU, unprotected sex, swearing word count: 1.8k pairings: Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader summary: you meet Choso at a party and something magical happens when the two of you decide to find a quiet room to hang out in.

The music is loud as you walk amongst the party-goers. You’ve been searching for someone in particular, but you haven’t seen him yet. He’s not much for parties, but he had assured you he’d be coming. Still, you were starting to have your doubts about this.

You grab a drink from the fridge, opening the can and sipping on its sweet contents. It’s one of those super popular mixed cocktails all the college kids are going crazy for lately. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but it’s not bad right now. You’re a little buzzed and you know you need a bit more liquid courage if you were to see him.

You see a flash of dark brown hair and your heart skips a beat. There he is, Choso Kamo. The one you’ve been pining for all year long. The can shakes in your hands as you try to follow him, finding him heading out the backdoor to take in some fresh air. You know he doesn’t smoke, but enjoys the company of the smokers as they are all pretty decently chill.

You sink the contents of the can so fast, your stomach lurches as the alcohol splashes in your tummy. Then with shaky steps, you walk over to the backdoor. Without thinking twice, you exit the building and let the cool night air envelop you. It almost sobers you up as you feel yourself shivering. Choso smirks as he spots you, then he walks over to you to drape his sweater over your shoulders.

“It’s chilly out tonight,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

You giggle, “Yeah it is.”

You realize there’s hardly anyone else out here. Just a few stragglers trying to suck on their cancersticks in peace. Choso pulls something from his pocket and you smirk when you realize he’s brought a joint. Oh, so he does smoke…just not cigarettes.

“You smoke?” he asks, showing you the joint.

You nod your head, “A little.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch him bring the joint to his lips. He looks hot even just doing something as simple as lighting a joint. He takes a few drags, his eyes drooping slightly as the weed takes its effect on him. Then he steps closer to you and passes the joint to you.

The conversation flows between you two comfortably. He asks about your classes and you complain about the amount of projects you have. Choso talks at great length about his own projects and the books he’s been reading. As you two chat and smoke the joint, you begin to realize just how much the two of you have in common.

It’s not long before he’s flicking the end of the cherry off the balcony. Then with a smirk on his face, he leans in a little closer. You feel his hot breath on your face and you feel need pooling in your lower tummy.

“Wanna find somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation?”

You should say no, and maybe tell him that you ought to go home for the night. But for the first time in so long, you were getting your chance with him. So in a low voice, you manage to agree to this. He takes your hand in his, leading you back into the party. Everyone is already so drunk and high, and the people dancing are almost pulsing to the beat of the catchy hip hop song.

Choso keeps a tight grip on you so as not to lose you. He manages to maneuver through the drunkards and ditzy girls. At the end of one of the hallways, Choso pulls you into one of the empty bedrooms. He closes the door behind you and then guides you to sit on the bed.

He takes a flask from his sweater pocket, the sweater you’re still wearing, and he opens it up and takes a swig. He passes it to you, a mischievous grin on his face. You take the flask from him and take a swig. It’s some very strong gin, which makes you cough and gag.

“Heh, yeah that’s some strong stuff.”

You shudder slightly when his big hand comes up to rub your back soothingly. Then his hand slides down your arm, only to go right back up so he can cup your cheek.

“You’re so pretty, ya know that?”

His words almost sound foreign to you. You have to think it over in your mind over and over again before his chuckle pulls you out of the funk. Then he just leans in and closes the gap between you two.

His lips are chapped but they feel so good against your own. You find some courage and you begin leaning into this kiss. His hands feel so good on your face as he cups your cheeks. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue slides into your mouth.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, you hear some knocking on the door. Then a head pokes in, but the moment they see you and Choso, they close the door. There is some laughter, but you know it has to do more with them being embarrassed than you.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Choso says as he helps you lay down on the bed. “Just focus on me.”

You don’t know what else to say, so you just nod your head and swallow your saliva. Choso smirks again before diving down to kiss you. This kiss is a bit hungrier and it’s paired with one of his hands caressing your body. He doesn’t linger on one spot for too long before moving onto the next.

You’re thinking he’s being coy about this when his hand shoves down your pants. You gasp into the kiss as his long fingers brush against your clothed cunt. Choso loves the sounds you make as he begins rubbing your swollen nub. Your panties begin clinging to your folds as he stimulates you even more.

“You like that, huh? I always thought you’d be into this sort of thing.”

His words do all kinds of things to you. Your mind is a mess as he continues playing with your panty-clad pussy. Then it gets even more intense as he pushes your panties aside. You moan his name when one of his fingers slides into you.

“Shhh…you gotta be a little more quiet than that, sweetheart.”

Choso isn’t quite sure where all this confidence is coming from, but he’s so glad he’s not completely fumbling. It must have something to do with the alcohol and weed he smoked. He’s thanking his lucky stars you’re into him just as much as he’s into you.

He pumps another one of his fingers into you to join the other, leaving you breathless and grasping the sheets below you. You throw your head back as his thumb comes up to rub your clit, making you drip all over his hand.

“How about we take this a little further, huh?”

His breath smells like gin and weed, and in that moment, it’s the most sexy thing you’ve ever experienced. You nod your head dumbly, your eyes rolling back with every pump of his fingers.

“Nah, you gotta say it. Say the words, baby.”

You swallow hard again, and try to think of the right words to say. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder as he continued to finger you. His long fingers curling to press against that spongy spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

“Fuck me, Cho. Please Cho…”

His cock throbs when you beg and you say his name so sweetly like that. It was going to be hard to resist you if you were going to be this cute every time he would fuck you. Choso knows not to push his luck, but he knows he’ll take the chance again if need be.

He’s quick to pull your pants and panties down. His mouth widens as he sees your cute little pussy on display. As much as he wants to taste you, he knows he’s got not enough time for this. He spreads your legs and then he’s pushing down his own pants past his ass.

“Ready for me?” Choso asks in a teasing tone, rubbing the head of his cock all over your soaked folds.

“Please, don’t tease me. I’m ready.”

With one long thrust, he’s balls deep inside of you. He thinks for a split second that he probably should have put on a condom, but you don’t seem to have any problems with him going in raw. His hips snap fast and hard from the get go, leaving you breathless. You cling to him as the pleasure builds so fast.

“Fuck, you’ve got the best little pussy, ya know that?”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to quiet himself. You’re both moaning and whimpering, doing all you can to not draw too much attention to yourselves. The pleasure just feels so good. Choso can’t believe your little cunt is gripping him quite like this. It’s so tight and warm, he can’t help but pound you into the mattress.

“Fuuuuuccckkk,” Choso moans out as he presses himself even deeper into you. “Fuck fuck fuck—”

You feel him biting into the tender flesh of your neck to quiet himself even more. You cry out his name, nails coming up to dig into his shirt. You’re trying to keep yourself grounded, but it’s all too much.

“Tightest little pussy ever! Fuuuck you feel so good.”

Your walls begin pulsing around him as the fat tip of his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot of yours. You’re not even sure how you’re keeping quiet right now, especially when he’s fucking you so good.

You watch as he leans back a little, pulling out just a bit and he spits on your cunt. You shudder as his fingers begin to rub the saliva on your clit, and his pace picks up again quicker than before. Flames lick in your lower tummy, and your mind begins to go blank from the sensations.

“Haaah, look at you. Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I? Damn, gonna have to make you my little princess.”

You nod eagerly, tears stinging your eyes as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening impossibly tight. Choso smirks as he watches you come undone. Your gummy walls begin to milk him, and Choso pulls out just in time to jerk himself off to completion. Ropes of hot cum cover your mound and lower belly. Choso then sits back on his knees, admiring his handiwork.

What surprises you is when he leans in and gives you such a tender kiss.

“I meant what I said,” he smirks. “Gonna have to make you my little princess.”

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auroraborealyss · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬.

⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader

⊹ summary: how morpheus, dream of the endless, the king of dreams, or as you know him: your love, expresses his love

⊹ warnings: some explicit language, but mostly none (however my inputs are slightly out of control in this one—case and point: this note)

⊹ word count: 3107

𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 you are talking to the king of dreams. the Endless who's responsible for seeing what people dream about, what they're scared of, and managing it. this is also the same Endless who thought it would be a fun idea to put his power into three of his favourite things. of course gifts is going to be his main love language

as the lord of dreams, of course his first instinct is to give you whatever you want. to create whatever you wan. he genuinely finds pleasure in creating something himself to give to you

(dare i say a kink)

has definitely fashioned a dream after you. whatever impact you have on morpheus (make him warmer, kinder, see the beauty in humans and their short but well-lived lives, etc...), that dream because that for others

no need to buy new clothes when he can just make you whatever you want

you want the top half of that one dress but the bottom half of another? check your closet.

you want the new book from your favorite author but it doesn’t release for another six months? check your mail.

you want that chocolate that was discontinued? check your cabinets?

even if you’re not in the palace of the dreaming at all times, he insists that you live in one in the waking world. so he buys/inspires an architect to make you your dream apartment/house

if its an apartment and you live by yourself? still gets you a three bedroom for no fucking reason other than he wants you to be comfortable. there used to be a hill that blocked your window? your architect was inspired to demolish it. you want it back? your architect is inspired to build one

if it’s a house, insert lazy river (honestly, if i had the money to waste and spend, i’d get one for myself. alas, the only lazy river i get is when my sink overflows) cue to you casually floating on a donut floatie while reading a book, doing laps around your house over and over again

if you do a form of art, you’ll get a room dedicated to it. a library. a painter’s studio. a photography room. sculpting nook. all of it and more.

there is nothing you could want that he could not give you

and never ever bring up money unless you want a mysterious and rude amount of money deposited into your account to wake up to

he'll also go to great lengths if you need a particular item (exhibit a: him going into the lake to get gifts for the fates. he did all that for his items, so imagine what he'd do for you)

but you want to know what the best gift he gives you?

his coc

𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 this man will be begging for you to let him do things for you. in this essay—

(did you see the calliope episode? because that part of episode 1.11 is basically exhibit b for this section)

someone said something mean to you? bam. they will be plagued by nightmares of someone he loves saying those things to him until he dies.

if you’re a better person than him and won’t let him mentally torture people for as long as he likes and thinks they deserve, he’ll omit telling you that he’s torturing people. what you don’t know, won’t hurt, right?

but if you’re flirting with the line that is morally good and you do consent to letting him torture people, he might show you his progress on them and their decaying sanity

“look at what i have done with the love i have for you.”

you still get nightmares when you sleep, not because he wants to hurt you, but because nightmares can actually help you. dreams can inspire us to be better, but so can nightmares. for example, being visited by a nightmare that shows you your fear of failing that test makes you wake up and be motivated to study. what he does do for you is restrain the nightmares? he lets them scare you enough to act as a motivator, but not extremely that you are crippled with fear and anxiety

protective morpheus (currently sobbing)

when you wake and leave the Dreaming, he’s gone but there’s always a cup of coffee with you

acts of service also include making others do acts. rather than get a phone, forces matthew to carry messages between you and him instead.

if you're studying and need information on something, he'll have lucienne prepare a stack of books, and maybe even notes, for you to see to when you return to him in the Dreaming

but the biggest act of service he can do for you is meet your friends

lets you drag him to parties and dinner and brunches

might not socialize (probably will not), and you might find him standing in the corner becoming a shadow, but he won't bother you to leave until you want to

he'll watch you the whole time

takes care of your drinks (and everyone else's)

or, he might follow you around like a shadow. no matter who you talk to, he'll be standing beside you, an arm around your waist

if you're a social butterfly, he admires that about you

if you're more socially introverted, he'll hang out with you in the shadows and leave when you want to, even if you've only been there for five minutes

basically he's a simp—and he might actually proudly admit to being one because who's the one who's dating you in the end?

𝗽𝗵𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 before his confinement, he wasn’t the most physical person. he wouldn’t pull away, but he didn’t reach for you either, though he always secretly liked it. after his imprisonment, he begins to reach for you. not just that, but he begins to crave your touch. touch is how he reminds himself that he is with you, you are with him, and that he is free

in public, it’s limited but clear that you’re together

the last thing he needs is hearing matthews’ teasing squawks in his ear about morpheus being the endless version of a cat

when lucienne catches pda, she’ll at least be respectful and dignified and not comment, though she will be grinning like a cheshire cat and her eyes will keep looking

your arm around his when walking around

his hand on your back

then your lower back

brushing your hair out of your face

sitting close enough for shoulder and legs to touch

standing close

(once again, I bring up the calliope episode—someone stop me from rewatching that over and over again)

did you see how close they were standing? then, when you thought they were close enough, he takes an even closer step? that. THAT.

whatever concept you have of personal space, a personal bubble, this man is inside it. yes, your arms might be linked while walking. but your sides will be pressed together.

and while it might appear that you're the one who links your arms together, he is the one who already has his elbow slightly bent and held out towards you

when you do hold hands, his thumb brushes over your skin absentmindedly, as if feeling your warmth isn’t enough and it’s a constant reminder of him that you’re there

but when you do the same to him, or gods help him, you squeeze it, he, with every fibre of his being, will feel it and nearly stop from the overwhelming feelings that threaten to send him to the ground

so keep it sparingly

...or not

kisses in public..truthfully, he's probably leaning towards no. full on make out sessions? probably not. when you guys are saying goodbye, i’m seeing more of a tight, slightly awkward dip of the head—a farewell not

but, bringing that calliope episode up once again, he won’t don't anything if you were to initiate it.

kiss on the cheek? you better hold that position for a few fucking seconds so you can let that man close his eyes and savour the intimateness that is the feeling of your soft lips against his cold cheek.

why don’t you press your forehead against the side of his head while you’re at it? you know, when you’re done kissing him but before you pull away. think of it as giving him a few seconds to revert back to cold, formal morpheus, dream of the endless, and not your boyfriend/partner

stares at you when you’re not looking

stares at you even when you're looking

stares down at you when you're asleep in his arms

stares up at you when he's down on his knees between your—sorry, wrong fic

imagine those intense eyes just looking at you and not looking away, not ashamed at taking in the beauty that is his partner

he has no qualms when someone is staring at you, because how he can be blame them

but he does have qualms when their gaze turns into a leer. that's when he'll send a couple nightmares their way for a few directions. not to mention, he'll turn his gaze from you to glare them down, and because they have now deprived him from admiring you for the few seconds this last, he blames it on them and gives them a...gift (and a visit to desire if he finds out they had something to do with it)

on the rare occasion that he's actually using his throne and sitting on it rather than dramatically sitting on the steps after he spread his coat out around him, he might let you sit on his lap (nothing more...in public)

not straddling him—god no—but sitting horizontal so your legs are over his lap and your side is against his chest with your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist

he does that when he needs to relax

he might whisper his problems and insecurities in your ear

but in private—in private—this man is draped over you

he’ll be like a cat who actually likes his owner and will curl up on you

if you’re cuddling, you’ll lie with your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulders, maybe playing with your hair

he may or may not use a bit of his sand to help you sleep if you’re having troubles entering his realm, but with him drawing random shapes on your skin or the steady rise and fall of his chest, or, if you're really lucky, he's reading aloud in that quiet, low, asmr voice of his, you're gone all too quickly

he always feels a bit stiff when the cuddle session begins, but after you lie down on him long enough, his limbs soften before gripping onto you tighter

but back to that no-such-thing-as-a-personal-bubble with him

walls

bringing into evidence, exhibit c: episode 1.03 with johanna constantine

why does he have to be so physically close with everyone (that isn't me)

likes to walk you backwards until you hit a wall

once you hit that wall, he may or may not take an even closer step

then closer

and even closer, but his arms are still in his pockets because he's cool and edgy like that (and intimidatingly hot)

close enough until he's kissing you

then he'll press against you to be even closer

we can unpack the trauma that being separated from everyone he loves for 100 years and being physically separated by a wall of glass some other day. for now, enjoy his closeness

because basically, close is still too far for him

𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 not 24/7 hanging out, because he is the king of dreams and he has a realm to run, but he does spend his time with you wisely, and just because you're not with him all the time, doesn't mean he isn't thinking about you all the time

his favourite thing is the two of you being in each other’s presence but working on your own things. he appreciates it more than he realizes, and during the times you sit to the side as he makes new dreams, he’ll sometimes put aspects of you in them—intentionally or unintentionally

when you aren't together, he'll still be consumed with thoughts of you

he thinks of you all the time, actually. and because of that, he also talks about you all the time, sometimes subconsciously. and sometimes with no reason at all—or perhaps the only reason he needs to bring you up is because you're you and he's in love with you

"y/n did extremely well on her project, did you hear?" "did you hear about my report on the rogue nightmares, sir?" matthew asks. "she worked very hard on it. i'm proud of her."

thinks about you when doing research in the library with lucienne

wonders about you when going on walks with death

mentions you on dinners with hob

dates with him doesn't have to be the most exciting thrilling thing. in fact, he likes living in domestic bliss with you. doing dishes together. helping you with laundry. watching a movie. people watching. walking your pets.

he usually leaves you alone when you’re awake and uses that time for his duties while you’re busy doing awake things anyway, but when you do fall asleep and are in the dreaming, that’s when the two of you are always together, stuck at the hip (and we're back to the closeness)

takes you out to dinner everyday where he listens to you talk and rant about your day and give you suggestions. he eventually does the same with you, and you become the first person he goes to whenever he needs consultations for his problems

insert jealous hob when he finds him and you eating and morpheus actually talking to you and not just sitting there quietly like with him

but hob gets over it (he doesn’t) and sometimes he’ll join dinner with you guys.

family dinners in his realm with you, hob, death, lucienne, marvin (and only because you invited him), matthew (though morpheus gives him a dog bowl rather than a plate)

during the moments the two of you are together, he treasures and cherishes it

and during the moments when it's just the two of you together, he'll definitely make it worth both your while

drawing it out (if you know what i mean)

and i mean, teasing you for hours and sessions that go until you wake—

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ha no. did you see how emotionally constipated this man was? how he can't tell calliope he still loves her, admit to hob that they're friends, and ask for help from death? words are not the dream king's weapon

the most you get is a term of endearment, like my love or my beloved

always 'mine' though

but this Endless is not about to spout off a pride and prejudice speech at you, so don’t bother waking up early and going for a hike. just sleep and hang out with him in the Dreaming instead in silence

however he does have a beautiful voice—one that as his partner, you are allowed to take advantage of. cue making him read pride and prejudice at you (especially that speech: “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love…i love…i love you. i never wish to b parted from you from this day on.”) you with his head on your lap, him sitting against a tree with the branches over the both of you for some shade. one hand is holding up the book, the other is absentmindedly twirling your hair. when he finishes the line, he looks down at you, slightly amused but completely enamoured, especially at the giddy expression on your face, and he dips down to kiss you

he tells you that he inspired jane austen to write that speech for you—it’s up to you if you want to believe him or call it bullshit

while he might not be giving love confessions every three seconds, he does give you compliments. and not just when you do something that warrants a compliment, but randomly. because to him, everything you do is majestic and needs to be acknowledged as so

"you're beautiful" when you're in casual clothes, sweats, pyjamas, (or bare)

"what would the world do without you?" when you hold open the door for an elderly couple

and you know he says it against your ear, voice low, his whispered words hot and heavy. maybe even a little raspy—

but just because he might not be the chatterbox on the block, doesn't mean he doesn't want someone talking to him

so don't give him the silent treatment, because when he does, he becomes insufferable to everyone

he's all curt to lucienne. snappy with matthew. demanding with poor marvin. sharp with cain and abel. rude with death. threatening with desire.

no one has nice dreams and nightmares become so much worse

not you, of course. you're still sleeping perfectly fine, but you realize something's wrong when you meet up with your friends and one of them hasn't slept in days while the other hasn't woken up in days

if it's his fault, it might take death for him to realize his mistakes and apologize to you. again, no long speech, just the simple words, "i'm sorry. i was wrong. please forgive me, my love." and considering this man's flaw is his ego, that is more than enough

and if you tell him to say it on his knees he will as he whispers it against your—

but if you're at fault, he won't back down until you apologize. however, he won't leave you alone. he'll always be there in the corner of your eye, waiting for you to apologize. and when you do, he'll purse his lips, nod, and say nothing. but you'll know he's already forgiven you when his eyes soften and he gives you that soft smile that's reserved for so few people

he might not talk to you, but he does want you to talk to him, so ramble away

let's not get started on what he says in private, but i'll tell you this. he isn't so silent anymore, and he will definitely appreciate whatever you tell him in whatever form—and might even strive to create and draw such sounds from you

a plea

a cry

a groan

a whimper

a scream—

in conclusion, this man will love you with every piece of him. (and if i could, i would do the same morpheus please just give me a chance)

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 1.06 𝗍𝗈 1.11. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 this 𝗆𝖺𝗇. 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽?

𝗂'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 14𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖾, 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘶𝘴' 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

#the sandman imagine #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream imagine #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman fanfiction #dream fanfiction #sandman imagine #sandman headcanons #morpheus headcanons

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belit0 · 10 months

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Heylloooooo. How are you doinnn?

Can you do a scenario where the reader offers to trim the hair of the founder's + indra + izuna. Their hair is so much damaged due to all the jutsu they practice and negligence. So the reader offers them a relaxing shampoo and hair trim.

Hey there!! Extremely tired, but holding up. I'm having vacations soon, so looking forward to that!

How are you nonny? Feeling and doing okay? 🤗❣️

I found this request so cute and funny that I had to prioritize it, lol.

Indra

- "I don't require any of that, my hair is fine, that's highly feminine, humiliating." It will take a lot of convincing, but both using good words and managing him without letting Indra realize exactly what she is doing, (Y/N) gets her husband to surrender to her hands. The Otsutsuki does not agree to step full body into the bathtub, bent over the edge and resting his bare chest on the fine cold marble. His hair rains down on the water and is submerged to a certain length, while she uses a cup to wet his scalp. Somehow, impossible in the awkward position but apparently possible for him, he relaxes so much that he stops protesting, accepting the washing in silence. Between massages, (Y/N) inspects the damage, and concludes that it is a sin for a hair as beautiful as Indra's, with golden highlights, to look so dull. Although he maintains impeccable body hygiene, he has no idea how to take care of his mane, dry and brittle from all the battles he's been through. He hisses when the water is too hot, and tries to end the whole situation, but once he's knee-deep in it, there is no way to escape. Indra does not usually turn his back, show his neck, or allow anyone to approach him with sharp objects while he is vulnerable and without sight, but today he makes an exception. After all, is his wife who we are talking about. With the cut, he's adamant about her not reducing its length, proud of its iconic longness, and (Y/N) only succeeds in cutting off the split ends. When he looks in the mirror, he complains about losing a lot of hair, even though he genuinely hasn't. A tiny child, in the body of the worst villain of them all.

Madara

- "Yeah... that might be nice... let's see if it gets me out of stress." He surrenders himself to (Y/N)'s magical hands like a cat, allowing her to manipulate his hair and do whatever she wants with it. The girl suspects that if she were to chop off his mane like his father had it, as relaxed as Madara is in his special bath, he wouldn't even notice. Either way, she gives up the idea of playing a joke on him and concentrates on soothing her husband's scalp, bringing the unique pattern of his hair back to life, and restoring a bit of its shine. Gentle shampooing here, cream bathing there, soft drying to keep it damp enough to cut... The Uchiha actually falls asleep while his wife washes his hair, and (Y/N) appreciates how deeply he trusts her, enough to unwind under her fingers. When his mane is finally clean, she wakes him up to get out of the water, pulling him out of the bathtub and sitting him on a chair. With the scissors, she gets rid of all the unsalvageable parts, removing the fire-scorched hair and leaving only the healthy, reducing the length by considerable amounts. Madara, ignorant of any decision she might make about the size or style of her cut, reads a book while sipping a cup of tea, seated cross-legged like a gentleman. Solely dressed in his bathrobe and with his hair full of hooks to separate it in parts, he looks like a lady enjoying a day at the spa. When she finishes, he doesn't even bother to evaluate himself in the mirror, oblivious to his image and unconcerned about what his wife might have done, fully trusting his judgment and accuracy. He is happy and loves his new/almost identical image.

Izuna

- "What? No, there's no way. I said no... well, thinking about it... no. Well, maybe yes..." Another little child. Izuna refuses to admit the damage to his hair, and a whole week passes from the official proposal (Y/N) did, about taking care of his image, until he decides to accept. Manipulated by candy and promises of steamy nights, the Uchiha can't say no, and hands over his mane for his wife to control as she pleases. His hair is considerably thinner than his older brother's, less dense and bushy, but the problem lies in those unruly strands at the back of his head, near the scalp. A mixture of straight and curly hair, how to treat it is a puzzle, but she is determined to find out. She can't get him to take a bath, Izuna claiming he already showered in the morning, and only manages to wet his hair at the kitchen sink, with the man reclining on top of the counter and trying to squeeze the length of his hair into the cramped space. Even though the experience is uncomfortable, he refuses to get in the shower again and insists they do it this way. Needless to say, the kitchen ends up completely soaked, the floor full of water and the cabinet as well, foam floating all over the surfaces. Once ready, they proceed to the cutting, and the Uchiha himself stands in front of the mirror, suddenly excited and engaged in the task, marking the limits he intends (Y/N) not to exceed. He becomes the leader of the situation, and is genuinely pleased with the result. Promises to remind (Y/N) about doing the same thing every month. Every, single, month. Without fail.

Hashirama

- "YES! ARE WE DOING IT NOW?!" In fact, he is the most excited of them all, and is the one who prepares the items (Y/N) might need. On his free afternoon, the Hokage looks for scissors with sufficient sharpness, and in the absence of the right ones, goes to buy them. He prepares his special shampoo, because we all know this Senju is obsessed with having perfect hair, and readies a bathtub with warm water for himself. All the things she intended to set up for him, Hashirama gets them in an hour and surprises her by sitting in the tub with the shampoo in his hand, smiling from ear to ear. He provides instructions on how he likes to massage his own scalp, which areas are sensitive, and where to pay special attention, guiding each movement without the need to physically control (Y/N's) hands. To make the experience more pleasurable, she follows each step, executing it the way he asks. He cannot finish without first applying one of the most expensive conditioners in the world, which he requires her to leave on for at least ten minutes. In the meantime, and with two cucumbers in his eyes, Hashirama relaxes. When he is dry and ready for the haircut, he suggests the idea of styling his hair in a similar way to what he used to wear when he was a child, and it is (Y/N) who has to get that terrible occurrence out of his head. Pouting, he agrees to sit in the chair and let her control this part of the process, without being in charge of the technical direction. He ends up with a cut the length of his middle back, and smiling because he loves it! According to her, there's not much difference from how he had it before, but he doesn't need to know that.

Tobirama

- "You don't need to take care of it, my hair is fine. And if needed, I can do it myself." He has an irrational fear of losing some of his incredible intelligence if he cuts his hair, and has a bit of trouble accepting the offer. (Y/N) can't stand the strawiness of his hair, and Tobirama refuses to admit that's true. Stubborn and dismayed by his wife's approach, he will first try to work it out on his own. He is extremely embarrassed when going to the beauty and cosmetic store, asking for help "for a friend who has bad hair", and accepting guidance on what products "his friend" should use from the young man who works as a manager. When he gathers the necessary information, he refuses to shop at that same establishment and goes to one at the other end of the village, just so the manager won't judge him. He waits until late at night to proceed, once (Y/N) is asleep, and begins his experiments. The problem is he treats his hair as if it were an object of study, misapplying products and cutting off parts he shouldn't have. In the morning and without having slept, he has to admit defeat amidst his own fatigue and disappointment, and agrees to let her take over. He created a mess on his head, with uneven strands and even somehow managed to stain it with a strange color, but nothing she can't fix. After solving the texture problem, using the same products but in the right way, she corrects the premature cut Tobirama tried to self-manage, equalizing each strand's length and leaving his hair presentable again. He won't admit he made a mistake, at least not without crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes, and pouting, but he does acknowledge how good his hair now feels.

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sheeple · 8 months

Text

Miracles don't exist | 25: Floating snails

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): The Katie Bell incident but badly described [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

A thick layer of snow covers the ground by the time the first Hogsmeade trip rolls around. You're bundled up in Theo's scarf and a thick jacket. Theo has his arm slung over your shoulders as he pulls you close to him to give you some of his warmth.

The two of you trail behind Blaise, Pansy, Draco and his two goons. Although, Draco slipped away from the group not long ago, giving you a weary look.

"Let's go to Honeyduke's! My sugar quills are almost gone", whines Pansy and you roll your eyes.

"We're going to Tomes and Scrolls, I need a new book", you say but the others don't pay you any mind, already closing the door behind them.

"Why do we even hang out with these people?", you grumble to Theo with an eye roll as he holds the door to the bookstore open for you.

Dusting the snow out of his and your hair, he answers, "because I like Blaise, and Blaise tolerates Draco and Pansy. And you like me, so you hang out with me. And Draco is family so you have to hang out with him."

You roll your eyes again, knowing he's right. You start to browse around, pulling interesting books out to inspect them. Theo goes from hovering around you to going around the store for himself.

Once you've finished and queued up to the register, Theo appears out of nowhere and plucks the books out of your hands. "Theo!", you protest, trying to get the books back.

"No, let me pay for them." He holds the up high and out of your reach.

"I can pay for them myself perfectly fine!", you protest.

Theo holds you away at arm's length as he slams the books on the counter and the amount the books cost. The lady behind the counter smiles fondly as she sees you and Theo — mostly you to be fair — struggling against each other while she wraps up the book.

With a triumphant smile, Theo leads you outside back into the snow as he holds the books. Because of course, he doesn't let you hold them.

A while further you spot Hermione and a smile spreads to your lips. "Hermione!", you call out and drag Theodore over her and her friends.

"No, why?", he whines in a whisper to you as he sees where you're pulling him.

"Because I like Hermione, and Hermione is friends with Harry and Ron. And you like me, so you hang out with me." You repeat his words from earlier with a grin on your face, which earns an eye roll from the boy.

Harry's eyes flicker from you to Theodore and to your interlocked hands. His face falls and he turns towards Ron, who looks annoyed to see you in general.

"Hi", you greet the girl, letting go of Theo. The two of you walk arm-in-arm, happily chatting while the boys walk behind you in tense silence; Ron in between Harry and Theo.

"I mean, Snape got the job and he still is a sour puss. The other day he gave us three inches extra on our essay because some students in the back of the classroom were talking", you complain and Hermione laughs.

Suddenly, someone screams and the five of you stop. A girl lays on the snow-covered ground while her friend stands over her. "I warned her! I warned her not to touch it!"

The girl suddenly starts to be pulled from left to right before floating in the air, her arms spread wide. Her mouth open wide as a breathless scream escapes her and a terrified look on her face before she drops helplessly.

Theo quickly rushes towards you and puts a protective arm around your middle.

"Don't get any closer. Go back, all of you." Hagrid appears out of nowhere and picks up the now unconscious girl. Something lays on the ground and as Harry moves towards it, the giant quickly stops him.

Shocked, you cling to Theo. "Come, let's go back to the castle. It's going to storm and we can do nothing", he says to you softly and you nod. He leads you back to safety, leaving the golden trio behind to trail after Hagrid.

Even though the events of the afternoon still spook you, a certain letter pulls your attention away once you're back in your dorm room.

"Have you also received Slughorn's invitation?" You make room in between Blaise and Theo and let yourself fall on the couch. In your hands is an invitation to a supper of the Slug Club.

Blaise nods and holds up his invitation. You smile and bump against him.

"Whatever is it?", asks Theo incredulously as he studies the letter.

"Professor Slughorn likes to invite students to join his parties to dine and converse", explains Blaise. "It's only for the best witches and wizards, with great family ties."

It's a not-so-subtle jab towards Draco and Theo. The latter sneers and Draco rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath that he didn't even want to join even if the professor would beg him to.

You turn to Blaise. "It is tonight, right? Should we go together?"

He agrees and the two of you agree to meet up before going to the dinner in the common room to walk together to Slughorn's office, not noticing the irritated frown on Theo's face.

The dinner was... okay. You noticed a few fellow Slytherins. Such as the Carrow twins, which gives you the creeps with their weird-looking eyes. But also Harry and Hermione and the youngest Weasley sibling were invited.

Harry gave you an awkward smile while Hermione excitedly sat next to you, chatting away about everything and nothing but mostly the coursework.

As you're looking at Slughorn's table with all kinds of group photos, you don't notice the others leaving. You spot a familiar face and grab the photo frame. It's... your father. Tom Riddle is a young boy in the picture, maybe sixth year, if not fifth. He has a proud look on his face, his dark hair neatly swept to the side. His gaze bores into your soul and you quickly put down the frame.

The next frame you focus on is one of the Slytherin Quidditch team from a while back.

"I see you've spotted your family", says Professor Slughorn with a laugh. He gives a belly laugh as you jump a metre up in the air. "I didn't mean to scare you, Miss Black."

You give a sheepish laugh while turning back towards the photos. "It's an impressive collection, Professor."

Slughorn takes the Quidditch photo and looks at it sadly. "I've taught almost all Blacks. Except for Sirius, that is. But Regulus was my favourite. Bright boy. It saddened me to hear he had passed away very young."

You look back at the picture and frown. So that is Sirius' brother. You didn't actually know that he was dead. You recall seeing him on the family tree but Sirius didn't say anything about him.

Your eyes flicker towards Tom Riddle and the professor seems to notice. Instead of saying anything about it, he instead claps in his hands. "It is getting rather late, wouldn't you say? I wouldn't want you to get in trouble. Off to your common room, Miss Black."

With a final goodbye, you leave Slughorn's office and walk straight towards the Slytherin common room. Once you enter, you see a sulking Theo sitting on one of the couches, arms folded over each other with a fat frown on his face.

You let yourself fall next to him and cuddle up next to him.

"Did you have fun? Going to Slughorn's party with Zabini. Did you also flirt with Potter?"

You pull your head back in surprise, raising an eyebrow. You study his face and body language. A grin grows on your face. "You're jealous."

Theo's head snaps towards you. "Am not!"

"I thought you liked Blaise!"

"I do. But not when he tries to steal my girl."

You laugh out loud. "So you totally are jealous! Oh, Theo... You have nothing to worry about." You pinch one of his flaming cheeks.

He pushes you away and turns his face to the other side.

You pout. "Theo... I promise I'll take you with me once I have the chance."

"Promise?"

Laying your head on his shoulder, you look up at him. "Pinky promise." You hold up said fingers and the two of you hook around each other's finger, before pressing your thumbs against each other.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @mythicalamphitrite @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18

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madelynraemunson · 9 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI I WILL HIT U WITH A CHAIR

Chapter 003: Best Buds

It’s BYOB (bring your own bud) night at Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. With everyone under the influence, things start to get… a little complicated.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 8k

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, brief smut, p in v sex, protected sex, implications that steve is a long boi voyeurism, marijuana use, alcohol use, sexual harassment, physical altercations, NSFW, talks of a daddy/master kink, stripping, pole dancing, mutual pining, flirting, mentions of previous sexual abuse, profanities

* AUTHORS NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER ❤️‍🔥 *

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

Chapter 002 recap

"Doing it for Max," you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn't your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

Chapter 003

♡

“Hi I’m Hell, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“FUCK! Oh my god — fuck!”

Steve Harrington is definitely not a loser.

An assortment of mewls and profanities fill the hot air of Steve’s bedroom as he fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, the frame of his bed rattling to the speed of his deep, punishing thrusts.

It’s 7 AM.

Though you’re typically not an early riser, you’re more inclined to be if you were promised this type of treatment every day.

“Fuck!” you squeal again, knuckles sheet-white from how tightly you’re holding onto Steve’s linens. “Right there, Steve…”

Steve’s grip, meanwhile, rests at either side of your hips as he pistons himself further into your sopping, spongy heat. Too cock-drunk to even form a coherent sentence, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head while you take his unforgiving length from behind.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” he coos. “You like how deep I feel inside of you?”

You nod. “Yes… yes…I-I love it.”

“Looks like I’m fucking you back to sleep again, aren’t I?”

“M—mhm,” you manage to purr, reaching for one of Steve’s hands to grab a hold of.

In fact you’re already seeing stars. Sex with Steve is an extravagant experience. Now that he’s comfortable in your presence, Steve spent all night performing for you, abusing your soaking cunt to the tempo of every song on his playlist, catering to your every need in the form of profound and agile strokes, exploring every inch of your body with his firm and knowledgable tongue, all while refusing to stop until you yourself were finished.

You chant his name aimlessly as he plows into you further, tucking a pillow above your head to protect you from any sharp wooden corners. Another thing Steve prioritizes as well? Your safety. All night it’s been your pleasure first before his own. Now you know why everyone in town calls him the King.

“That’s it…” Steve praises you as you fall apart in front of him. He smacks you firmly across the ass. You whimper at the sensation, chasing your third orgasm of the hour by fucking him back, tossing your hips back onto him, not caring the slightest if it made you look desperate. You need his cock so bad. “That’s a good girl.”

CRASH!

Something falls from the bathroom at the end of the hall. A shampoo bottle maybe? It stuns you for a second, causing you to immediately reach for the top sheet to cover up your body. You listen for traces of his roommate’s presence.

“Uh…”

“Earthquake?” Steve jokes.

“Nope,” you smugly shake your head. “It’s just you.”

You rise from all fours to turn around and give Steve a quick kiss. Steve chuckles against your skin.

“Me? It’s a team effort, lady.”

“You’re right, it’s us.”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist and guides you back down onto the bed. Laying on your back now, you watch him as he spreads your legs apart. He smiles down at you as he lines himself up at your opening.

An impatient sigh escapes your mouth. He swoops down to silence you, planting a soft kiss onto your neck.

“Steve…” you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. “You’ll get it, just you wait.”

He continues to tease you, gliding his cock along the lining of your entrance. You bite your lip and shake your head, watching him as he glides, thrusting his tip in slowly before taking it back out once more. Then he slaps his cock against your puffy, glistening folds. Your whimpers grow louder.

“Are—” you lower your voice. “Are you sure we’re the only ones here?”

“Yeah,” Steve insists, mumbling against your ear. “The roomie’s with his sneaky link. We’re fine.”

“Birds of a feather,” you retort.

Steve flashes you a flirtatious glare. “I’d never keep you a secret.”

“Lies.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges you.

What did he mean by that?

A gasp escapes your mouth before it’s even registered. Steve is inside once again, pounding into you with a pace so exhilarating, the room around you starts to blur. The little time you had to prepare leaves you both with a healthy amount of friction and resistance. You’re nearly screaming now as pressure builds between your hips and in your stomach, your pleas for more growing louder and louder with every pummeling thrust.

“If you call that keeping a secret, you’re pretty bad at it,” Steve kindly retorts, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, beads of sweat dripping down his pomade-sculpted hair onto your breasts.

“Oh m-my fucking god,” you squeal breathlessly. You’re silenced by Steve’s fingers as they assert themselves into your mouth.

“Oh my fucking god is right, babydoll.”

He issues a delicate slap across your face. You bite your lip, gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes. Snarky King Steve is your favorite Steve.

“Keep going, Steve. Don’t fucking stop.”

Before you know it, he’s bending you like a pretzel, your legs at his shoulders, knees to the tip of your earlobes. Steve slams himself into you, excruciatingly fast and balls deep, all while his hand explores your mouth, then jaw, then find a home around your throat. Another delicate slap brushes across your face with his other hand, followed by a “Yeah, baby take it”, causing you to mewl even louder.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other begin to sound more wet with every thrust, the moans you two exude bounce off the walls as you fuck into each other. You feel your walls tighten at the same time his head starts to twitch.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” Steve huffs. “Do I feel that fucking good? Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“Yes,” you attempt to say. “I’m such a messy girl, Steve.”

“That you are,” he swoons, swooping down to plant kisses all over your face. “Messy. Dirty. Naughty. And all mine.”

Four more aggressive pumps into you and you’re both done for.

“Oh my god…”

“Fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Ohhh fuck.”

Giggles take the place of moans as you and Steve collapse onto one another. You two lay there in disbelief, then share another laugh followed by a high five.

“Good game,” Steve jests.

“Rematch later?” you wink.

Although Steve doesn’t answer, you know it’s a yes. As you roll over to drift off into a small recovery nap you feel another slap land on your ass, followed by the sound of the trusty rubber rolling off your partner’s cock.

“So fucking beautiful.”

——

9 AM

After care is essential for Steve. Lover boy loves to cuddle. He’s there when you wake up, arms snaked around you, with gleaming eyes and a rather itchy peach fuzz that you didn’t stumble upon until he was giving raspberries to your neck.

“You lasted longer this time,” you comment teasingly. You issue him a delicate boop on the nose.

“Yeah, cuz we’ve been doing it all night,” Steve tsks. “You caught me off guard the first time around, Hargrove.”

You pout. “Aww. Was I kicking you when you were already down?”

Steve pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze the further you lean into him. “You absolutely were, you devil woman.” He kisses your forehead and beams down at you with a smile.

“Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

So you two rinse up together, and Steve lets you borrow one of his t-shirts to parade around his luxury townhouse in. He did offer you some basketball shorts he had lying around on his couch, but you decide that hopefully, in just his shirt and your new lace black panties, it would entice him for round five.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. It’s Max.

Hey where r u?

You bite your fingernails as you contemplate a believable answer. Where could you possibly be if your supposed shift ended two hours ago?

Post shift mimosas with coworkers. Be back around noon.

You wait. Buzz.

As you should 🤪

You smile before exiting out of your conversation with Max. It vanishes quickly when you remember there’s still a text you haven’t responded to.

What the actual fuck.

It’s been a week now since Billy sent that text. And with him being the type to spam, it’s strange that he hasn’t called or texted again. Especially since it had been Max’s birthday.

You shudder, overwhelmed with a sense of panic yet again. In hopes of postponing reality to the next day, you plant your phone face down onto Steve’s bedside table. It all made you feel stupid. Like an infant who believed they were hiding just by closing their eyes.

You walk out into the hallway and find Steve in the kitchen, frantically trying to find you something to eat.

“We need to go shopping again,” Steve announces. “So the only choices right now are eggs, sausage, toast, cereal..and the Cuties over there.”

You make your way over to grab a tangerine while you browse the cereal section.

“Well, I had sausage this morning,” you joke. “And a cutie. So I’ll go with eggs and toast please.”

“Coming right up. Sunny side?”

“Scrambled.”

“Anything for you.”

You claim a seat at the messy kitchen island, decorated by mountains of bills and guy stuff galore. As Steve is cooking, you sit and admire the man who Hawkins calls the King.

Steve tries. It shows in everything he does. Behind every positive attribute about the man, looms a cautionary energy accompanied by a sense of guilt. It’s almost if “King Steve” refuses to take up space. Something, or someone, made him this way. Made him so guarded and delicate, yet so willing to give and help.

Before you know it, Steve hands you your Shy Girl-tailored breakfast, fluffy golden eggs with golden buttered toast to match, served with a glass of orange juice on the side. You thank him and he nods, tossing a dish rag over his shoulder and walking to the sink to clean up. With how sweet Steve is with you in bed and on a friendship level, the sole idea of him makes you wonder what he’d be like — years from now — as his one real dream: a husband, a dad…

The sound of a toilet flushing jolts you back into focus. Both you and Steve freeze in place.

“Shit,” Steve sighs.

Roomie is home.

Steve quickly wipes his hands and darts to his room, scurrying to find a shirt to mask the hickeys you left on his chest. Meanwhile you scramble to the couch to find the basketball shorts you passed him up on earlier. You didn’t want to give his roommate the wrong impression, though you kind of feel like you did, screaming like a banshee because you thought no one was home.

You’re tunnel-visioned as you scan the couch for shorts. Let’s see… TV remote, no — football, no — random backpack and baseball cap —

Wait. Is that a Hellfire shirt?

Your eyes widen. It can’t be. Steve wouldn’t withhold such vital information from you, would he? Maybe Steve really likes supporting Eddie’s business.

But then you think about it. You really think about it.

You think about Steve’s comment he made as he was leaving Hellfire. "Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home."

At home.

“The roomie won't be home…”

The use of “the roomie” instead of “my roomie”. Typically “the” is only used if someone knows of the person being mentioned. At least that’s how you yourself word things anyway.

“The roomie’s with his sneaky link.”

Eddie’s lady friend. Eddie only goes to see her during the most ungodly hours because she’s a bartender.

You feel so stupid. For more reasons than one.

Eventually you find Steve’s basketball shorts and throw them on, running back to the kitchen island where you then try to play cool. You turn back to the scattered envelopes laying around the island — all addressed to an Edward Munson.

In the words of your twin brother, what the actual fuck.

“WOOO — Harrington!” a familiar sing-song voice echoes from down the hall. “You definitely don’t wanna go in there!”

You recognize that voice from anywhere.

Whistling sounds from the end of the narrow hall. Coming out of the bathroom was none other than your boss, dressed down in a black muscle tank that revealed his avant-garde black and white tattoos, and royal blue gym shorts. His hair was up in a messy half-bun, the loose curls that were too short tie up are a cluster of anarchy around his face.

You make it into Eddie’s periphery, but he doesn’t do a double take until he realizes it’s you.

“Oh hey!” he greets you, somewhat expressionless. “You on tonight?”

As if seeing you in his apartment is the most casual thing ever.

You’re completely swamped with humiliation. It’s bad enough that Eddie practically heard you scream bloody murder, but now he knows exactly what you’re like in bed. He knows how you like to be handled. How embarrassingly cock-drunk you get when your partner hits the right spot. How pornographic and raunchy you act when you’re with the right person.

You’re also dressed like Adam Sandler. So there’s that.

It takes everything in you not to grab your stuff and leave. But it is that same ick in your body that keeps you glued onto the bar stool of the island.

“Y-yeah,” you huff. “Sure, I’ll work.”

“Totally should…” Eddie sings again. “Midweek is always popping. Everyone always wants a lil sumn sumn on Friday Junior-Junior.”

You study Eddie as he strides over to the fridge, insipid and unbothered. Tired, if anything.

Steve comes out of his room with his own Hellfire shirt on, trying his best to keep his cool as he clears his throat. “I, uh… I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“That makes the three of us,” Eddie laughs dryly as he rummages through the fridge. “But here I am…”

You observe him as he hums along to a random tune, scanning the fridge for something quick and easy. He settles for what looks like coffee creamer, which brings you back to the time that Dustin said Eddie operates on coffee and an empty stomach.

You try to focus on something else. Anything. Eyes-a-wandering, you catch sight of Steve’s old championship trophies from his high school swim meets, pictures of him and his boujee ass family at TopGolf, pictures of him with old friends at an actual golf course, glass cups from breweries all around Indiana and The States, and the expensive smart electronics that ornamented the place.

But not a single trace of Eddie and his life or family. The mystery of him sucks you in a little more.

Eddie stalks towards you, extending an arm across to pick up the bills waiting for him on the table. The world stops for a moment.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologizes. “The maid took the night off.”

An inferno pools at your cheeks. Was the ‘mess’ remark a jab towards you? Your thighs clench when the flashbacks of morning sex with Steve replay in your head. “Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“You’re fine,” you manage to say.

Eddie proceeds to pour himself a drip coffee then douses it in an unreasonable amount of hazelnut creamer.

You cringe at the sight. Sometimes a crush is just a lack of information.

Steve attempts to speak to serve as a filler for awkward tension, but you beat him to it.

“S-”

"So," you press. "How are things with the lady friend?"

Eddie makes a sour face. "Called it off," he shrugs. "Well, she did."

Your ears slightly perk up.

You feign a tone of dismay. "Oh no! What happened?”

"Guess our lifestyles don't mesh well with one another,” Eddie rolls his eyes, as if he knew it was some sort of excuse. He draws on about the ordeal. “She doesn't like that I'm always at work. I can only see her in the early hours of the morning, and with the amount of paperwork I have to do, I’d honestly rather be spending my free time sleeping or playing video games."

"Well, you should stop working so much,” Steve suggests. “It could help balance shit out more.”

Eddie snaps his neck at Steve.

"You think I didn't think about that already?" he scowls through gritted teeth. "It’s like the moment Eddie's gone, everyone forgets how to do their jobs. I always gotta come in to make sure they’re all staying on task.”

He turns to you.

“Take Mike for instance,” he explains. “Fucking chickenwithhisheadcutoff. Lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

You laugh.

“He was the one who forgot to take inventory on the 10th and 11th,” Eddie pops a scoop full of Honey Combs into his mouth. “Yet he was asking me if he could bring his girlfriend to the club.”

“Ohh,” is all you can say.

“I don’t mind all that lovey dovey shit,” Eddie mutters between bites. “But if it’s gonna distract him from working, that’s where there’s a problem.”

“Totally reasonable dude,” you agree.

“Yeah, Mike gets really distracted when El’s around,” Steve pitches in.

Eddie nods. “Ed’s got his own set of rules for a reason. The Munson Doctrine is a byproduct of when all the things that can possibly go wrong, have gone wrong.”

You watch Eddie stroll towards the windows by the balcony and prop them open, an indicator that he’s about to smoke. He grabs a tiny bowl that he seemed to know was laying around and loads it up with bud. He lights up and takes several large hits.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for tonight?” Eddie questions eyes darting between you both.

You and Steve didn’t think that far.

“Not too sure yet,” Steve answers for you two. “I do know we gotta go shopping again.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie nods towards the cereal. “Tired of eating hamster food every morning.”

Eddie takes another hit, coughing away the excess like a madman.

“I’m hosting another BYOB night at Hellfire with the frens again,” Eddie continues once he calms down. “Been a minute. You should swing by.”

“Bring your own booze?” you ask.

“Getting warmer.” Eddie replies.

“Beer?”

“Cooler now.”

“Then what?”

“Bud,” Eddie replies raspily, nodding at his own amusement. “We’re still a red state, so we get our shit from Illinois. BYOB is specifically for the party. Edibles only, for obvious reasons. Still a fun time though.”

“Cross-faded on a random Tuesday, what’s more enticing than that?” Steve says. You’re not sure if he’s sarcastic or not.

“Exactly, Harrington!” Eddie hollers. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Is Nance gonna be there?”

Record scratch. Eddie looks at Steve like he asked a dumb question.

“She works there.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve glares at Ed.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Is Nancy gonna be at the table? No, probably not. You know her. Total opposite of Mike. When she’s at work, she’s at work.”

“Yeah...” Steve mutters with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll think about it. What else ya doing today before this?”

Eddie explains that after paperwork and grocery shopping, he plans to go over to Chrissy’s place to look at her car. It causes your heart to flutter. Business owner, manager, cook, music fanatic, and mechanic? Mr. Jack-of-All-Trades after your heart again.

Eddie shakes his head, evidently overwhelmed with all the responsibilities on his lap. “Hellfire would crash and burn without Cherry.”

“Wow, you do so much,” you comment, attempting to uplift him. He grins at your remark. You decide keep going. “Anything you can’t do?”

You feel Steve stare between you both, then clear his throat as he paces around the kitchen.

“Stop it,” Eddie chuckles, growing slightly flustered with his pink-tainted cheeks. “Kinda true though. I do everything and anything.”

“Yeah, especially for Chrissy Cunningham,” Steve jeers.

“That’s also true,” Eddie shrugs, attempting to conceal his now fully flustered face. “We done now?”

“We are actually,” Steve says. “Lucky for you, I gotta go get ready.”

Steve shoots you a wink and then excuses himself back to his room. Meanwhile, it’s just you and the other man you have a burning crush on.

Something shifts when Steve disappears. To shake off the unknown feeling that’s mingling in the air, you make your way over to the fridge. You hope that pretending to be busy excuses you from another conversation.

But before you know it, you feel Eddie’s stern — and marijuana-laced — breath on you just moments later. The torment is never ending.

The moment you turn, you’re met with Eddie’s big brown eyes. He speaks first.

“I was joking, you know.”

Whatever banter that was being exchanged earlier has now switched off. The pitch of Eddie’s voice has dropped a few frequencies, and that act alone captures your attention. Shooting your gaze towards him, your brow lifts.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work tonight,” he elaborates shoving his hands into his pockets. “We’re well staffed. There’s a seat for you at the table… if you’d like to come with.”

“I’m your friend?”

“I thought it was clear.”

“You haven’t even taken me to lunch yet.”

“You haven’t given me the chance.”

Fair play, Munson. Eddie waits for you to talk. You study your superior as he studies you, his chocolate eyes slowly becoming eclipsed by the widening of his jet black pupils. Hunger was unknown feeling that was mingling. It’s burning in your stomach now. Its essence that lingered between you both is the only thing keeping you two from standing any closer.

“Cross faded on a Tuesday,” you repeat Steve’s sentiment. “Sounds like a Friday ordeal.”

“Well when you work as much as I do, you try to make every day feel like Friday.”

Oh this man is stressed stressed. Something in Eddie’s hopeful stare convinces you that a simple “yes” would make him a little happier about tonight. But you don’t want to seem too into it.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease.

“Ah, come on…” Eddie tuts. “Steve will be there.”

You blush.

“And your ol’ boss,” Eddie ominously adds, propping his shoulder against the fridge as he leans. “If that counts for anything.”

Another loose strand of hair from his bun falls across his face. He shakes it away with a cinematic nod. You feel stupid for falling for your Eddie’s natural charisma. He does it with everybody, you remind yourself. It’s what makes him a good business man. You aren’t anything special.

“Will there be wings?” you decide to deal the inside joke you share.

“Flats only,” Eddie insists, feeding into it.

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Always is, sweetheart,” Eddie grins. “Can’t wait for you to experience it.”

Before he too excuses himself, Eddie hugs you, doing the verbal kiss on the side of your cheek once more before letting go. It never fails to leave you in a puddle.

No rizz, my ass Dustin, you think to yourself.

“See you there then, gorgeous?”

“You sure will.”

And just as quickly as Eddie disappears, Steve returns, sporting a basic grey Patagonia tee and khaki colored Dickies. His sunglasses dangle from the center collar of his shirt, his green and yellow “Camp Know Where” dad hat clipped onto the same belt loop that housed the keys to his BMW.

He meets you halfway by the island, giving you a soft kiss once more.

“I’ll let you hold onto that shirt,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

“Why thank you,” you reply. “Smells just like you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck just as he does your waist before they explore the birthmark region of your lower back. Your breath hitches.

“I should probably stop,” Steve bites his lip. “I gotta walk you to your car.”

“I know, maybe next time,” you frown. “Also, you didn’t tell me Eddie’s your roommate.”

Steve’s face falters slightly. “I… didn’t think it’d matter.”

He’s right. Ultimately it didn’t matter. If you didn’t shut up, you’d tell right on yourself.

“I know!” you end up saying way too enthusiastically. “It’s just that he, uh, heard everything.”

Steve dismisses it. “Let him,” he says. “I’m sure he hears and sees it all at the club anyways.”

Steve bites the bullet and gives your ass cheeks a tight squeeze. “Besides, he can watch if he’d like. We’ll give him a little show…”

Your breathing scatters again, to which you give Steve a playful nudge.

“You’re unbelievable.That’s where your dirty little mind goes?”

“What can I say?” King Steve smirks, forehead pressed against yours now. “I’m a voyeur.”

“Clearly,” you wink.

Birds of a feather. As much as you didn’t want it to, your mind wanders back to Eddie and how he is most likely a voyeur too. Why else would Hellfire be an asset of his?

The entire commute home is spent fantasizing about both Steve and Eddie. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing and what to do in this situation. Would this even be considered a triangle considering how casual everything appears to be?

With everything unknown there is one thing is for sure: tonight, both of them are getting some kind of show from you.

—————————————————

‘Friday Junior Junior’ is relatively staffed.

Mike and Dustin flicker across the room, darting back and forth to bus tables as soon as customers leave. Skating on the thin ice he’s on, Mike works quickly and efficiently, while Dustin takes his sweet time, attempting to multitask while talking to Suzie, one AirPod in at all times.

“Yeah, babe, I’m in Kas’ Korner,” Dustin lies. “Doing some food packing.”

You watch him as he wipes the table quickly after spraying some cleaning solution onto it, eyes glued to the job in front of him instead of center stage. He does sneak a quick glance at Chrissy, though. Then looks around to see if anyone noticed. You do, but you pretend not to. It’s funny.

“I’ve seen her get richer in the pole, I’ve seen her. I knew she had to know.”

You're sat between Steve and Eddie at the VIP table, watching Chrissy alongside everyone else. Joining you three are Argyle and Henry, who both were miraculously able to find themselves coverage. Jim is bouncer for tonight, while Lucas has the kitchen covered after months of begging Eddie and Argyle to let him cook.

Looking over at Steve, you see him beaming up at Chrissy and decide to join him in showering her with his — many — dollar bills. Argyle joins in too, to your concern since he promised the group he'd buy everyone drinks when you guys all go bar-hopping later.

"Chrissy is amazing," you sigh, shaking your head in pure admiration for the starlet dancing in front of you.

"Isn't she?" Eddie responds. He delves into his pocket to pull out his phone. "All the ladies here are pure and absolute fuego."

Drawing your attention to his device, Eddie opens an album in his camera roll titled, "Hellfire Girls". He starts showing you short clips of the dancers, one by one, explaining what they're doing and how in awe he is of them.

“I notice that the girls like wearing pasties for tops that tend to have spaghetti straps or very little fabric coverage,” he says. “Or for when they don't feel like showing their tits. Saves you too when The Girls decide to pop out when you’re upside down. Always the fucking left one too."

You giggle at his remark.

The eloquence and respect Eddie has about the female body and wardrobe mechanics has you enticed. It's evident how much Eddie respects women and values their comfort. But he is also a man, and it's no secret that someone like him enjoys watching. And Eddie is never shy to admit when he likes what he sees.

He shows you another video of another dancer, Emmy.

“Emmy’s a fucking beast,” Eddie gushes. “She can do a split right from her side straddle. Kassidy’s the same, but the Pegasus is more of her strength. Lady’s got arms and core for days. It’s fucking hot."

He swipes again.

"And Justice knows how to do a Dragon's Tail, it’s a crowd favorite.”

Eddie's already had a few drinks tonight, so the filter he already seemed to lack is practically non-existent now. Steve is on the same boat, downing his third cocktail and not giving a damn how much he blows tonight on the dancers. You all the while, are one dangerous cocktail in and are already horny out of your mind. It doesn't help that Jonathan has a heavy pour, and that every drink he makes tastes like juice.

"Cheers to that," you smirk, raising your glass to clink with Eddie's.

“I’ve seen her take down that tequila. Down by the liter. I knew I had to meet her.”

"Maketh way everyone," Henry announces, asserting himself back into the VIP section after leaving not too long ago. “Bottle service a-la-Henry."

You turn to Hellfire’s bouncer, who ditched the casual attire tonight for a more classy black formal suit and a matching Rolex watch. His sandy blonde hair is extra sleeked up and away from his face. According to Henry, he never usually dresses up unless there's a special occasion. You suppose BYOB night is one of those events.

Henry acknowledges the cocktail in your hand before nodding towards the bottle of Don Julio that he’s holding.

"Tell me, Shy Girl," Henry starts. "You up to ditch that for something a bit more challenging?"

Eddie fires a curious look towards the interaction.

You eye the Don Julio that was luring you in, and ultimately decide to take Henry up on it. Flashing him a sinister smile, you instruct him, “Hit me.”

Henry slowly starts towards you, tilting your chin upwards once he pops the cap open. With your consent he starts to pour the tequila down into your mouth.

Fuck being responsible tonight.

An array of "WOOO"s and "OHHH"s fill the air around the VIP section as everyone cheers, shocked that you’re able to chug all of that without it burning. Little did they know, Don Julio tastes just like home. Well, south of the border from home.

After holding down your own fort for way too long, you've decided that someone else needs to be handed that baton for tonight. Since you didn't tell Henry to stop, you're still chugging what he was pouring into your mouth. You know it’s risky, especially since you had two edible gummies several minutes ago as well.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gawks as you settle for a final gulp.

“Shy Girl’s not so shy,” Steve comments, absent-mindedly, arms wrapped around your waist as he keeps you propped upwards. "Good job, baby. That's how you do it."

“That’s it, Hargrove," Henry smirks. "Swallow all that for me?”

You peer up at him and hold your eye contact as you swallow, making sure Henry knows that there's no more alcohol left in your mouth. Everyone knows you championed that shit. When you’re done, he wipes the remnants of tequila off your bottom lip.

"This one's dangerous, Eds," he comments, completely shocked by what he just witnessed.

"Don't I know it," Eddie breathes. "Not really living up to the Shy Girl name, are we Hargrove?"

You feel Steve's grip around your waist tighten. Assuming he was being possessive over you, you turn to offer him your undivided attention. Instead, you end up looking over at a clearly intoxicated Steve, leaning onto you for gait support as he smothers you with affectionate kisses all over your shoulders, ear, and neck.

"Shy Girl," Steve mumbles. "Shy Girl Hargove... Not-So-Shy-Shy-Girl."

You turn back to Eddie, meeting those carnivorous eyes once again. He's breathing heavily against you now, that this time he's not even hiding it.

"Yeah well the Shy Girl thing is all an act," you quip at Eddie flirtaciously. "Looks like there's still a lot for you to learn about me."

Eddie rolls his tongue around in his cheek as he eyes you up and down. He presses his palm gently onto your knee that rested closer to him and rubs it. "Can I crash your class then? Professor?"

Before you can respond, Chrissy bounces her way on over, ecstatic over the amount of tips she made.

"Wh- are you guys all drinking without me?" she exclaims when she approaches the table.

You turn to see her pouting ever so playfully, but then smiling when Argyle hands her a shot of the Don Julio. She too downs it like it's water.

"WOOO!" Chrissy cheers, raising the empty shot glass into the air. "To Hellfire Club!"

"To Hellfire Club!" everyone follows.

Everyone resumes taking shots and celebrating once again, this time with Chrissy joining the party. You watch Eddie as he feeds her an edible, another one allegedly, upon her request. He rests a delicate hand on her cheek, watching her chew, then grazes her cheek when she swallows the gummy, eyes glued on him the entire time.

“Good girl,” he mouths.

Chrissy flashes a playful, flirty grin before excusing herself from the table to go and give patrons a dance. She is stopped midway by a familiar, friendly face.

"Aht, aht," the friendly face stops her. "Not so fast, missy. I have some stuff for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Chrissy giggles. "Thanks, Nance."

To Steve's utter shock, House Mom Nancy makes her way to the VIP table. You feel him tense beside you, attempting to sit up straight and pretend that he's sober. You and Steve take in Nancy's effortless beauty, the way her straight brown hair was neatly kept in a bun, black square neck cocktail dress with transparent black tights underneath fitting her body like a glove, with nails that were always cleaned, polished, and painted a neutral color. Nancy is always so effortlessly pretty, but tonight she looked extra good.

“Here are your extra pasties, love,” Nancy reports while handing Chrissy her boob tape. “And also some spare bobby pins.”

“Thank you!” Chrissy chimes.

Nancy proceeds to take Chrissy's tips, tucking them neatly into a pouch that has a cherry design on it. As she finishes up with Chrissy, Nancy's eyes travel over to meet Steve’s.

“Hello, Steve,” she attempts.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve says, eyes filled with sorrow.

Nancy’s eyes fall onto you. The air seems awkward now, most likely because Nancy read the room and figured out that you and Steve are probably sleeping together. You can’t hide your thoughts. Your face speaks for you, and judging by the way you struggle to make eye contact with your house mom, she knows now that you know of her and Steve's history.

“Hey you!” Nancy cheers, trying to mask the tension.

“Hey Nance!” you join in. “How are you tonight?”

“Good,” she smiles. “Not working tonight?”

“No, just here to support Chrissy,” you smile back.

“Awesome!”

If Argyle and Henry didn't know you two are hooking up, they sure as hell knew now. They exchange a lightning quick glance at once another and do their best not to do anything that could potentially worsen the situation. Not that it was bad. It was just painfully awkward.

It’s silent for a bit before Nancy clears her throat. “Okay then, I’ll see you guys later.”

All of you bid goodbye to Nancy and try to carry on with the rest of the night. The boys have no issue going back to what they were doing. Meanwhile, you look over at Steve who has gone pale and looks like he is about to throw up.

You rest a hand on top of his. Steve flinches before turning to look at you.

“Are you okay?” you question him.

He sighs and nods. “I will be.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you remind him. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

"You're right," Steve frowns. He grabs your hand to kiss it. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

"Of course," you insist.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to freshen up," he says before ruffling your hair. "I'll be right back."

Your eyes trail after Steve to ensure his safety as he saunters over to the bathroom. When he makes it safe, you turn your attention back to the boys who are, of course, talking about sex.

"Alright you guys," Argyle speaks up. "Let's talk about it. Do you guys have a daddy kink?"

You're intrigued. You gaze travels over to Henry and Eddie who are trying to contain their excitement on the topic. They're trying to act like this is not something they wanted to talk about, but judging by how tightly they're holding onto their drinks and fixing the way they were sitting a little bit too often, they are more than giddy about this topic. Or anything sex-related.

"No not really," Henry shrugs. "But master kink, yeah. I like to be called master and all that stuff."

"Ooh, you're one of those freaky ass fools," Argyle says. "I see, I see. Eddie what about you?"

"Do we really have to talk about this?" Eddie chuckles.

"We sure do, you little freak," Argyle nudges him.

Eddie laughs to himself, staring down at the bottle of beer he's currently drinking. Slowly, he starts to nod, causing your heart to do sommersaults. This night keeps on getting better.

"Yeah..." Eddie answers. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"What's the reason behind your daddy kink?"

"Just think it's hot," Eddie shrugs. "I like taking care of the girl while she unravels right under me. Think it's also a power thing. I like taking over."

"You a choker?"

"Dude, am I?" Eddie exclaims. "Fuuuck yeah! I'm like the fucking waiter at Olive Garden with the grated cheese. Tell me when to stop."

The boys burst out in laughter. Eddie continues with an explanation.

"Cuz I'll keep going."

You are too cross-faded for this right now. Your environment starts to get hot, and you can't tell if it's because of the alcohol or the information Eddie was dumping on everyone causing your cheeks to flush.

"And you know what they say," Henry adds. "Everything is about sex, but sex is about power."

"Power, women, same thing," Eddie says. "Fucking love it."

His eyes fixate on you.

"What about you Shy Girl?" Eddie questions you, his voice deepening. "What are you into?"

Chrissy's screams could not have come at a better time. The whole club nearly pans their attention to her when as shrieks.

“You fucking dickhead!”

Startled, Eddie shoots up. “What? What the fuck happened?”

“I turn around to straddle him and his dick was out.”

You look over to where Chrissy is.

Absolutely fuming, Eddie turns to Henry.

“Creel..."

"Oh I am so glad I am not on the clock," Henry fumes. "I'm gonna fuck him up so bad."

You watch as Henry removes the black blazer he has on along with his watch and shoes before darting towards Chrissy and her perverted patron. You are about to witness what you have been warned about.

"Put that back in your fucking pants dude, what the hell are you doing?" you hear him demand.

"I was just-"

"Quiet. I don't wanna hear it."

"She was talking me up all nice. Not my fault this bitch can't put out."

You turn to Eddie and swear that his eyes have gone black. Yet he refrains from going there himself. He knows well enough that he can't get involved as a manager. There would be a lot at stake if he did.

After arguing back and forth with the customer, Henry digresses when he realizes he's talking to an arrogant brick wall. That's when the unthinkable happens. You watch as the customer practically flies out of his seat, at his mercy now that he is in Henry's unbelievably tight grip. He tries to fight it, swatting at Henry's hand, attempting to kick him in the groin. Henry seems amused. As if that poor customer has a chance.

You almost hear a SNAP.

"Oooh," you hear the crowd hiss painfully.

The customer wails helplessly on the floor as Henry continues to have his way with him. Chrissy, extremely overwhelmed, dashes to the bathroom as she puts her cloak back on, trying to hide the fact that her face is now completely red and full of tears.

Your eyes pan back over to the customer who is now sprawled out onto the floor. Henry abandons him after hissing a cruel, "Get your shit together then get the fuck out" at him and spitting onto him.

He excuses himself to go get Jim to drag him out. You're way too stunned to say anything to him, eyes glued on the customer whose limbs are now bent to a perfect 90 degree angle, neck seemingly displaced, shoulders misaligned with every other part of his body. There's a pool of blood and sweat on the floor. Or maybe that's piss.

"These assholes need to be mindful of how they treat women," Henry snaps when he returns. "Cuz one of these days, they're gonna find the One."

It's difficult for chaos to phase you now, especially since physical confrontations like this used to occur every day at home. But nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of getting fucked up by Henry.

“Jesus,” you heave. “I didn’t know the human body could bend like that.”

“Naturally it can’t,” Henry corrects you.

“Evident by the bones snapping all willy-nilly,” Argyle adds.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that, thanks,” you reply.

Eddie sneaks up behind you.

“Told you it was grody,” he says.

Steve emerges from the bathroom, slightly less pale, but still heavily intoxicated. He looks over at the customer, eyes wide.

"Jesus." You can tell he already knows what happened. Steve also seems to know who took care of that person. "I always tell myself I'l get used to it, but damn."

You go over to embrace him. He embraces you back, kissing you across the forehead with his liquor heavy breath. Although you wanted to be with him for the rest of the night, you knew he had to go home. When Steve glances elsewhere, you confiscate his car keys. Eddie guides Steve back to his seat at the VIP table, giving him small words of encouragement as they go.

"That's it, easy there, Big Guy. Almost there. You good?"

You stride over to POTIONS where Dustin just so happens to be now. Judging by how close he and Steve are, you trust him to take him home.

"Dustin," you begin.

"Yes, m'lady," he answers.

"You mind staying with Steve for me?" you request. "I'm gonna be with Chrissy for a bit, but I think he might be ready to go home. I'm not sober so I can't take his car."

"Oh no," Dustin peers over at Steve. "Let me guess, he saw Nancy?"

"Yup," you confirm handing Steve’s keys to Dustin. “They said two whole words to each other."

"That's two more than they usually do," Dustin mutters, accepting the keys from you. “But yeah, I got you. I'll be right there."

You let the men be men, re-enacting Henry’s bone-snapping marathon with the customer. Ditching them, you make your way to the bathroom, where you saw Chrissy run to, to check on her. The sound of sniffling in the stall furthest at the back is the first thing you hear.

“Chrissy?” you call out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

A gag followed by some a mass that sounds like vomit shooting into the toilet contradicts that statement completely. Chrissy continues to throw up profusely as you make your way over, crawling under the stall to get to your new friend.

Chrissy is hugging the toilet now, clinging onto it for dear life as if it were going to run away from her.

"Room's spinning," she justifies.

“Yeah, you are most definitely not fine," you sigh. You pat her back to console her. "Are you just overwhelmed by everything? How many milligrams did you take?”

“How many are in three?”

“Jesus Christ!" you shout. "Chrissy!"

“They weren’t doing shit,” Chrissy pouted. “I felt like I needed something strong…” she’s interrupted by her own gagging once more. “Stronger. The edibles just weren't kicking in…”

“So we wait, love!” you exclaim. “We wait for them to kick in. We don’t take it upon ourselves, especially if one gummy is 20 milligrams.”

“Waiting around is for chumps.”

The room falls silent as Chrissy proceeds to self soothe, spitting remnants of her emesis into the toilet and focusing on her breathing. You decide to speak up again.

“How do you feel after what just happened?”

“I don’t,” she answers. “Eventually, you just grow numb to it. It’s part of the profession.”

“Harassment shouldn't be part of the profession."

"But it is."

"It shouldn't! Surely we can get Henry and Jim to do more training so this doesn't happen. We can take self defense classes?"

Chrissy sits up. She turns to face you, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh my baby,” she pouts. “My dear Baby Stripper. You’ve got some shit to experience before you truly know that none of this shit is preventable." She looks off into the distance. "You’re very brave for wanting to do this. I always used to tell girls who want to get into the industry to run as fast as they can."

You're no stranger to harassment and abuse, but you couldn't imagine what strippers go through on a daily basis. Unwanted gestures, having genitals exposed to them that they did not intend on seeing, stalking, retaliation, violence, kidnapping attempts. And these poor men and women who are just trying to make a living have to just accept it.

"There's so much I don't know about the industry," you admit to her. "And to a certain degree I am still naive about it all."

"That's why I'm so protective of you."

"I'll be fine, Chrissy," you reassure her. "I'm more worried about you. You're such a cute little cinnamon roll, I'm the protective one."

"You're so sweet," she says. "You have to promise me that you're gonna say something if anyone tries shit with you."

"Of course," you nod. You start to get scared. Chrissy is saying all this as if it was bound to happen tomorrow.

"And that if anyone at all seems like a threat, you let Jim, Henry, or Eddie know right away," Chrissy continues. "And Jonathan is in on it too. Just ask him for an angel shot and he'll know exactly what to do."

"Mhm," you nod again. "Yeah, you got it."

The extents women have to go through to keep safe...You shudder in fear. It's only temporary, you remind yourself. It's only temporary.

It's not too long after the incident that everyone, the party included, decides to disperse. Argyle volunteers to take Chrissy home and they leave in his van. Henry stays behind and talks with Jim, explaining to him what exactly went down with that one customer. Meanwhile, Steve is sitting at the VIP table, nearly passed out, but Eddie and Dustin work together to get him to his feet.

“Alright,” Dustin announces. “I’m taking Steve home before he starts simping over Nancy again.”

"Shut up, dude," Steve mumble, using nearly all his body weight to lean on Dustin.

You walk over to give Steve one last embrace, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek as he drunkenly sways back and forth in your grip.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile.

“Goodnight beautiful,” Steve says. “I’ll text you when I’m home safe.”

“Please,” you encourage him. “And drink water.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles hazily. “You drink water.”

After they leave, you return to the VIP table to order yourself an Uber. You're still intoxicated, but it's simmered to a buzz now. Before you can even navigate to the app, some tight jeans and combat boots make their way towards you, keys to a certain van out back jingling around his fingers.

“Ready, Shy Girl?” Eddie asks you.

“Huh? For what?”

“I’m taking you home.”

_____________

author’s note: thank you so much for all your kind words regarding this fic thus far!! 🥹 and thank you for being so patient as i had a family emergency this week so posting was delayed! didn’t wanna rush posting either because i care about the quality of my work and you guys deserve the best!! i added a bunch of y’all to the tag list and am so excited to have you guys along for the ride. revising/editing ch 4 as we speak :)

———————————-

tag list: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe , @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23 , @sidthedollface2

#Spotify #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #hellfire club #steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #Steve and Eddie #steddie and reader #Eddie and reader #steve and reader #Chrissy Cunningham

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magellanicclouds · 1 month

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Halo - An Essay: regarding waste management systems and devices for MJOLNIR armoured Spartans It has been a hectic sort of few weeks. Between work and getting sick again (for the fourth time already this year thanks to my crewmates who can't remember it's their duty to stay home when they're ill) I've been on the outs. I haven't had the energy for much, but I'm usually a pretty active person, so this has kind of made me loopy? Which feels like as good a time as any to talk at length about the concept of catheterizing Spartans for waste management in MJOLNIR.

Let me explain.

This Silly Post crossed my dash recently and I fully understand it is meant as lighthearted fun - we have fun here. But it also dragged out some strong thoughts I've had haunting in the back of my mind about this for years because I'm super normal about Halo, and have time on my hands and the right amount of sleep deprivation and medication on board. So I wrote 3500 words about it. And about Karen Traviss, who is pretty knotted up in this conversation, since she's the one who decided to start it back in 2011.

To preface, I'm not an expert, but I have worked in emergency medicine for 25 years, and been a fan of Halo for almost as long. I've had more of a lukewarm relationship with it the last decade or so if I'm being honest, but it will always have a home in my heart; I just think letting it under my skin like that in the first place may have made me feral and prone to biting. Thankfully, I can always happily rotate Fred in my mind until the heat-death of the universe, so that's nice. Anyway, full disclosure: the essay below contains discussion about medical devices, physical trauma, and I am sharing quite a lot of personal negativity about the Kilo-5 trilogy and Karen Traviss. That said, if you'd like to sit in on the length of what I'm about to yell into the sky about all this, you can find it under the cut. I love you.

Welcome to my dissertation.

Section 1 - The Relevant Background:

Equipping Spartans with urinary catheters weeded itself into the Halo universe in the 2011 book Halo: Glasslands, during a conversation between Spartan II Naomi-010 and ODST Mal Geffen. Glasslands was the first in Karen Traviss's Kilo-5 trilogy, and she is both the originator of this, and the only official Halo author or source to have used catheters specifically since. Some context: I don't personally like these books, or their author, or even her reasoning for why she chose to add this. My personal preference doesn't make something 'bad', and I'm not out to hurt any feelings. Kilo-5 isn't a total wash for me, there are some characters and ideas that I'd of otherwise loved to have seen explored through the lens of a different author, but these books felt smothered under Traviss's habit of always injecting her very loud personal voice into the narrative fabric. I think this is something that's fine to do in an original series, but doesn't really belong in an established third party IP. She bangs on about so much of her own narrow worldview and self-assured prejudices across the trilogy that still discussing them today creates division in the fandom, and sadly did a lot of lasting damage to a couple characters. But for the topic here, the dialogue that started all this cath chat came from Naomi-010, having idle conversation with Mal who asks her about bathroom breaks. “I’m catheterized. Another reason why that machine has to be so precisely calibrated. This suit plugs into me in a lot of places.” 'The Machine' she's referring to is a Brokkr assembly, which was introduced to the lore as a large mechanical armature used to get Spartans in and out of MJOLNIR. You can see them in action in cinematics from Halo 4 (+Spartan Ops) and 5.

One single mention, and it was big news. Traviss was naturally interviewed about it because of course she was - people can't help themselves but forget an entire novel and tunnel vision on 'but how pee pee?', and her answer has always irritated me. It's not in what she says, so much as what 'what she says' means in her voice. Traviss didn't answer it directly, but instead talked about how she likes to get into character's heads by addressing the mundane necessity of things that often go overlooked to expand a sense of familiarity with the character and their world. Sounds super reasonable, I know, but don't give her too much credit - that's not a quote. It's just me paraphrasing and honestly I was pretty generous in my wording. Probably because I agree! What bugs me about it, is if you've ever read literally any interview with her, or her personal musings about her writing process, you know there's a bit of an 'honesty' issue there. She's somebody who feels perfectly comfortable ignoring established character voices, traits, or histories to satisfy whatever roles she's reinvented for them, and too many others wind up as mouthpieces. How much are you really challenging yourself in finding characters' voices when most of them are just yours? And the part about familiarity with their world? I giggled a little. She doesn't care about their world, or their aesthetics, or their technology, or their medicine. Because she didn't care about Halo while writing these, and she's not vague about admitting that. It's a matter of pride for her to purposefully refuse to research those things, in the same way she disregarded Star Wars and Gears of War - she doesn't consider the effort to be a valuable part of her process. So instead she'll skim the foundation, gather some recognizable names, pick her targets, and trusts that her personal experiences combined with an outsider perspective will generate better content to seamlessly overwrite what existed. Cool, Karen. Annoying, but why bring all that up? We're here to talk about catheters, right? Well, the fandom for the most part begin and end their assessment of the dialogue at urinary catheters, but the whole quote implies so much more than that - "This suit plugs into me in a lot of places." We're not just dealing with a cath, but apparently with multiple additional external-to-invasive connections. Reader, this dialogue is a plinth to Traviss's bizarre refusal to research not only the franchises she's contracted to write in, but also just into the basic function and hazards of existing concepts that she wants to introduce, and all because she's convinced herself she's done learning about the world. Choosing to ignore the creative freedom of limitless potential in a future of technology that would be basically magic to us today, and instead degrade 529 years of advancement is certainly a take, but it's even more ridiculous to do it with a subject (The Spartan Programme) that is considered to be the peak of advancement in that future's setting. That's clownery, just like her alleged commitment to adjusting her perspective to suit a universe's world.

I want to close out this section with a question: Why is it that writers in the Halo space - both fan and official - cling so tightly to current-day modern concepts as if they'd still be perfectly relevant in 500+ years? Music, for example, apparently suffered a multi-century stagnation in lots of published and fanmade Halo media. Though my partner made a strong counterpoint about this to be fair: we still listen to music composed by Mozart. So there's an argument to be made there. Medicine though. There is way less latitude to embrace the classics there. It's been shown across several games, novels, and films to be sufficiently advanced well beyond anything we're currently capable of or even understand, so why undermine that and choose to drag it centuries backward? For clarity, I am not talking about what might be standard in the public or private sectors, nor the enduring things that'd be used by the public and military alike, like sterile dressings, syringes, supplemental oxygen equipment. Those are the Basics and they will be relevant to us indefinitely. But I'm talking about the UNSC. I'm talking about ONI R&D. I'm talking about Section Three. Retrograding tech and failing to address a necessity that applies to every living person in the Super Soldier Wizardry department makes my mouth flatten into a tight little line.

Section Two - Caths, and why this whole thing got written:

Indwelling urinary catheters, both urethral and suprapubic. There's a laundry list of problems here, but I've distilled it down to the three biggest when suggesting they'd have any safe practical application in Spartans: Care. Activity. Damage. There is unreasonable expectations of care and maintenance for caths with regards to people who can be on operations isolated for months at a time with no support of any kind and are often limited to carrying only what can be kept on their person. The level of extreme physical activity Spartans engage in on any perfectly normal day whether deployed or not is unfit for the stability and safety of a cath. And damage; obvious enough, but with this one I'll be taking a huge emphasis on concussive forces - explosions. Something Spartans are subjected to a lot. I'll be using the height of modern-day catheter quality as a baseline for this, since that's what Traviss felt was sufficient. Regarding Urethral vs Suprapubic, Traviss doesn't specify by name, but Naomi's comment in full reads to me that she's only catheterized temporarily while armoured, hence the assembly needing to be so finely calibrated. Foley caths are temporary urethral caths that would only supplement the urinary process while a person was armoured. Suprapubic caths however are surgically placed devices. They do need routine tube replacement to keep them clean, but unlike the Foley that just serves as an aide measure for an otherwise fully functioning bladder, suprapubic caths are usually placed in people with congenital bladder disfunction, or who've suffered injury or disease that left the bladder in poor health or failure. This type of access will always require a tube in place and this would be the exclusive method of urination - in or out of armour. My Big Three Concerns fit both types similarly, though there is some additional risks associated with urethral caths that I'll cover.

Care: Caring for an invasive cath is a not insignificant effort. They're prone to blockage, kinking, and bacterial growth. They're so frequently responsible for UTIs and kidney stones that these complications are just considered the Standard Fair for having a cath. Their need to be frequently replaced because of their penchant for bacterial growth is the kicker here - whole floral colonies sprout up in caths and can eek their way out into the body through compromised tissue and wreck havoc. They have no self-cleaning mechanism, and steadily deteriorate. Changing and replacing an indwelling cath is a procedure that requires additional supplies that'd have to be carried, and needs to be done in a practiced and clean setting; preferably medical. Granted, there are people who manage the removal and insertion of their own caths at home, but they still need to ensure a clean and safe environment while they do this. A Spartan could never be guaranteed that, nor would it even be wise to consider the vulnerability of removing so much armour to handle it. Modern day caths are recommended to be replaced every 30 days or so, with some models able to be in place for a few months at a time, but that's with constant daily care and cleaning; something that'd be unreasonable for a Spartan to maintain while entrenched who knows where for who knows how long, and without access to replacement medical supplies. Those endurance times between replacements are geared for the average public person who leads an average public life and care for their cath as directed and don't get into fist fights with Sangheili. Needless to say, the endurance time for the same device in a Spartan who leads a wildly different lifestyle probably cuts those times down to a third.

Activity: Modern day caths are designed to offer people the most utility and versatility possible. Both models are available for people who are bed-bound or have extremely limited mobility, as well as for those who are mobile, independent, and live out average lives. With regards to the latter, suprapubics are somewhat more common, if for no other reason than to reduce the Foley's higher risks of induction injury, but modern urethral caths also allow for regular movement and activity with a more reduced chance of becoming dislodged or damaged than they would have had a couple decades ago. But when I say regular activity, I mean going on a walk. Shopping for groceries. Doing basic house chores. Even light exercise and sexual activity can be managed with physician advisement and the appropriate precautions taken. Anytime a Spartan was fielded they'd have to be all the more overly-cautious about Movements Outside of Their Control during confrontations, maneuvers, ambush, environmental or vehicular incidents. Even when things go well there'd be too much risk involved. That said, traumatic decatheterizations happen more frequently than anyone would like, and I'm talking about regular old Joe Everybody. I respond to no less than a dozen of these incidents a year. Both types of catheter are held in place by a bulb balloon that's inflated from a port with around 10-30ccs of saline after the tube enters the bladder (30ccs would be more appropriate for better security of the line). Before removing a cath, the saline is removed to deflate the balloon and the tube is guided out - with a Foley cath, that means being guided out of the urethra. When a Foley cath is traumatically removed, the saline filled balloon - which is like five times wider in diameter than the average 6mm urethra - does a pretty devastating amount of damage on it's way out, penis or vagina; though a penile urethra has significantly more length to damage, and the penile meatus very typically is torn. These incidents run high risk of bladder hematoma as well, which requires urgent surgical intervention. The very worst traumatic decatheterizations I've responded to were all penile and had trauma to external tissue. Ever microwaved a hotdog a little too long?

Damage: How often are Spartans subjected to explosive and other concussive forces? Silly question - answer: a lot and often and unavoidable. And we know they still feel the powerful feedback. Despite shields and dampeners and a self-moderating gel layer, strong inertial forces are still felt through the suits. Across multiple novels we're given details about near misses and blasts, accelerated or uncontrolled falls, rattling their teeth, hampering their vision, hearing, or balance; they've been rendered unconscious and suffered internal injuries. The fact that most of these events don't flat out kill them is a credit to their armour and augmentations. For reference - when a person experiences explosive or concussive force from a distance enough to avoid separation of limbs, bisection, etc, the totality of their injuries can't and won't be seen externally. How they present on the outside is just the tippy tip of the iceburg - it's what's happened to them internally that you need to be concerned about. Cracked or fractured bones, torn musculature, arterial shearing, hollow organ rupture, cardiac and brain tissue bleed, to name some common ones, and this kind of trauma extends to all implanted devices as well. For example, rods and nails and other structural aids or replacements are much more resilient than your organic tissues, and can dislodge when tissues tear or rupture, damaging anything in their way like shrapnel. The fragile little balloon of a catheter will shatter when subjected to even relatively minor explosive force, so to even consider for a moment that this would be a viable piece of equipment for people intended to routinely be involved in explosive environments is beyond willful negligence. That there wouldn't be a better solution to the question of waste management - a necessity for literally all human people who make up the entirety of the Spartan branch, with the infinite funding of ONI R&D seems so stupid to me that I… well, that I wrote this. Because, friends - participating in active warfare is not cath-safe. The kinds of physical demands and forces on Spartan bodies are not cath-safe. The risks will never outweigh the benefits to this. Even while sealed in powered armour and a skinsuit tech layer, the very thought of Section Three engineers or Halsey or anyone involved in the development of MJOLNIR dismissing the glaring obvious failure of Spartans having any kind of externalized invasive devices is so unreasonably negligent that it could only be the brainchild of an author who's convinced that these characters are all actually just psuedo-intelligent government boogiemen who aren't as capable as they claim to be. But No. They are that capable, and they are that intelligent and the fact that they have a bottomless budget and deeply flexible ethics is literally what makes them so dangerous.

So if we have to address this, how do we do it? Apparently there was always an official answer for this. Former Franchise Development Director, creator of the Master Chief**, and extremely racist asshole Frank O'Connor weighed in on this in the same interview, where he almost immediate rejected and denied Traviss's catheterization claim and says that 'this sort of stuff' was the kind of thing he and the other creative heads at Bungie/343i talked and planned about all the time. So how does this work then, because we're invested now. According to 'ol Frankie's elegant input: they just pee freely into the suit. That's it. For clarity, he's talking about the skinsuit and not the MJOLNIR interior proper. He goes on to say that connectivity between body and MJOLNIR at all levels is fully noninvasive, but precise, and that it doesn't matter what kind of body output a Spartan introduces into the suit interior, because a hygienic valve system (??) will scrub it continually and collect all matter for recycling and reintroduction via capillary action powered by movement. It's not clear in what layers or intermediaries these mechanisms occupy, he doesn't break it down more than that. But that's the answer, and it did exist back when Traviss was penning Kilo-5.

Is this answer better than haphazardly plugging extension cords from actual organ systems into MJOLNIR interior? Yes. Like, leagues better by comparison, but also I still think it sucks. To me anyway. It's flat out gross as hell, which definitely fits the personal brand of a man who proudly overfed his cat and called himself "Stinkles", but also it just doesn't strike me as the kind of design strategy ONI would pursue for any of their assets. Beside it just being 100% torn from Dune's stillsuits, it's also missing that special brand of proprietary Section Three je ne sais quoi. There's layers upon layers of too-specialized equipment installed into these people for everything else, why skip this? A body function that should have been Point 3 on a 50 point list of 'stuff to manage'. Also though? It's a lot of freedom. This is just another easy opportunity to add yet another layer of dependence. Spartans are expensive equipment. It doesn't do to give them any fewer reasons to think they can ever walk away.

So anyway, I figured I'd take a crack at it. I came up with this while editing the last two paragraphs: [Waste management] - a fully internalized collection and processing device - lets say a cybernetic implantation - that entirely replaces the bladder. It has bio-organic lumens that interconnect it to the GI and Hepatic organs. The implant assists in accelerating the processing of gathering and refining waste materials with the help of nanobots that identify and redirect waste along the lumens of each system, plus they keep the implant clean and free of bad flora. All twice-processed waste gets refined a lot quicker and any water by-product of the process is refined and redistributed back to the organs along the lumens. None of the refined water is removed from the body for drinking, because that's an unnecessary step; it's already inside. (Drinking water would be the responsibility of a suit system more likely - like, sweat leeching in the skinsuit; refine, filtrate, purify, collect into a reservoir, and jettison the excess sodium. ) There is no 'extraction of other viable nutrient' from the remainder, it's been twice identified as waste. It gets catabolized and consumed by the nanobots as a fuel source, and no externalized waste is created at all while the Spartan is geared up. The implant doesn't always run like this - it only engages this way when the Spartan is wearing MJOLNIR, and when they're not, it just works like an out-of-the-box bladder. The intermittence of usage lets the organic organs truck along as usual, preventing risk of atrophy, and the Spartan can just use a bathroom like everyone else. I'm not a bioengineer, but I do like sci fi and I think all that sounds like something that'd be possible in this sandbox. And that's the real fun of it, isn't it? There's no way anyone today can anticipate what sort of gadgetry might be available 500+ years from now, especially in a fictional universe that includes military tech hybridized with reverse engineered alien tech.

I think it's fascinating when writers and artists shake loose and really grab the reins, and I love seeing the fruit of that labour in this particular tumblr community so often. We're not a huge Halo circle, but we're a passionate one, and if this essay leaves you with nothing else, I hope it will at least remind you to Go For It when you're writing your next fic or drawing your next piece, or composing, or sewing, or printing, or anything!

In Conclusion: Rest easy, friends.

Despite Traviss's word and even books that went to print, the official canon is that Spartans are not catheterized. If that's a bummer for anyone, canon can't stop you from writing whatever you want, but I do hope maybe you'll remember my reasoning for why it might not be the best idea? At least not for armoured Spartans. A Spartan, but they're laid up in hospital? Any non-Spartan personnel? Maybe you're writing in the public sector, a colony world or vessel? Sure - I'll bet caths are still plenty widely used. Why not? They're a blissfully simple and useful effective piece of equipment. It's just all about adjusting and adapting for practicality. Medical science, like any technology, adapts and evolves infinitely as we learn and discover new things. Treatments or drug algorithms I'd of used just last year have already undergone changes, and protocols are amended constantly. It's why a person 'practices' medicine; why a scientist is always a student. If questions like this or similar really need answering in your next work, remember: Give yourself the credit you deserve, and embrace the spirit of invention. Let my Cyber Bladder, by Sparklets be the candle in the window for you!

You may all retrieve your keys from the bowl and unsilence your phones. Stay safe and please text me when you get home. Thank you. ' u ' **Addendum: Former Bungie Creative Art Director Marcus Lehto is in fact the person who is most associated with the creation of the Master Chief.**

#halo #long form #my writing

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xomakara · 7 months

Text

Private Lesson

SUMMARY | You’re tutoring Yuta in Math but he wants a biology/anatomy lesson instead that leads to sexy time PAIRINGS | Yuta/Fem!Reader GENRE | smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk RATING | Mature LENGTH | 2,788 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | It took awhile but here’s a new one for you all. I hope it turned out okay!

"You're doing it wrong, Yuta." You muttered to the man, your chest pressed against his back. You were definitely getting tired of tutoring other trainees and rookies in their studies when you had yourself to worry about.

Especially when you had to tutor your idol boyfriend.

"Well show me the right way, Y/N." Yuta replied back, lifting his head to look at the sultry female hovering above him. He couldn't help but look at the amount of cleavage that was pressed against his back, liking the view very much.

"Really?" You whispered as you worked your hand to lay against his fingers, guiding it over the paper to show him the right way to work the math problem. "You bring this here and carry this over..."

Of course Yuta wasn't paying attention. Well he was, but he was paying attention to something entirely different from the lesson coming from you. When you weren't looking, his eyes went to look you over, taking in your profile. He liked that his girlfriend was curvy in all the right places. But to have this curvaceous creature in his bedroom was practically killing him.

He was dying to do something else than work on math.

"Yah," You looked at him, Yuta looking away. "Are you paying attention?"

"Yes." Yuta muttered, averting his eyes away from you. When you began to sigh and walked towards the window to look outside, Yuta took a sneak-peak at how your jeans conformed entirely to your thighs and your ass. "Damn...you're looking fucking fine..."

"Did you say something?" You asked as you turned your head to him, your brown hair, obviously dyed, swayed and fell back in place behind your back.

"Nope." He muttered, hastily diverting his eyes and glancing at his book.

You knew when Yuta lied. C'mon he was your boyfriend for goodness sake. You rolled your eyes and handed him the pencil. "Then solve the next problem by yourself."

"Y/N, can we go over something else?" Yuta laid his pencil down and looked up at you. "What about the reproductive system?"

"Why?" You looked at him. "You're failing math, not science."

"But the reproductive system is on the next test. And I can't seem to understand the function of a male's penis or a women's vagina." Yuta nonchalantly said, looking upward and pouting. Take the bait, take the bait, he thought to himself.

"You cheeky little bastard." You pointed at him and scowled. "You know perfectly well what a penis and a vagina do."

"No, I don't." He replied, his eyes settling on your cleavage. He looked back up and smirked. "How do you know that I know what those do?"

"We had sex last week, Yuta." You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look.

"Did we?" Yuta asked as he saw the look on his girlfriend's face. "Care to refresh my memory?"

“No.” You muttered, frowning at the grin he gave you.

"Aww, c'mon Y/N." Yuta winked at you as he rose from his seat, making you back up. "Why don't we take a break?"

"Yuta, back off you horny man." You stammered only to be backed up against the wall. "A-a-and why?"

"Because I need it." Yuta drawled out, giving you one of his sexy winks. "C'mon, baby. Why are you denying it?"

He leaned his head down and whispered in your ear. "I just wanna help release all the sexual tension you have. I know you're feeling just as horny as I am."

Before you could say anything, Yuta fastened his lips on your neck, making you jumped in surprise. He drew back, his hands taking yours and led you to a chair. Sitting down, he lifted you to sit in his lap, your legs wide opened and unable to close because of his hands. "Y/N, stop doing that."

"But..."

"Shh...." He whispered. "Trust me."

It didn't take long before he started stroking his hands up and down your body, sending shivers down your spine. It felt amazing, yet dangerous. Just like his hands roaming all over your body did.

And as always, Yuta took control of the situation. While he played with you, Yuta let his tongue run along the base of your throat, nipping at the skin and then sucking on it, bringing more blood flow to the area. His hands slid under your shirt, groping your breasts while you let out small moans.

Once he reached the clasp of your bra, he unhooked it with ease, freeing your breasts. He drew your shirt over your head and threw it, along with your bra, onto to the floor. Slowly, he made his way down, kissing his way from your chin to your collarbone. At first you tried to keep yourself together, to fight back against his advances, but Yuta knew exactly what he was doing. How to tease you, make you beg and moan for more. How to drive you crazy until you could barely stand it anymore. How to put you in such a state where you wanted nothing more than for him to finally touch you.

The air became hot and heavy between the two of you, causing your already sensitive nipples to become harder than ever. Your breathing got heavier as Yuta continued his onslaught, letting his tongue dance around your breast, tasting every inch of you. Yuta sucked on your nipple, lightly nibbling at the peak. Every sensation sent an electric jolt through your entire body, having you quiver in his arms.

You tried to push his shoulders back but Yuta wouldn't budge, so you decided to settle with playing with his hair instead. Stroking the soft locks, running your fingers through them. For some reason, Yuta really seemed to like it, which brought a small smile on your face.

But it didn't last long as Yuta found his way to your other nipple, going for it just as hard as the first time. Before you knew it, he grabbed both your nipples and squeezed, using his mouth to suckle on them, rubbing his teeth on them. His actions caused you to moan louder, writhing in pleasure.

All you could think of was wanting him to fuck you now. To be inside you, filling you with his throbbing erection. Taking you right here, right now, no holds barred. And yet Yuta kept going. Slowing down at times, teasing you with just a few short kisses and licks. Until suddenly you stopped struggling, finding it too damn good to resist any longer.

Yuta chuckled and pulled away, smiling as he watched you struggle with trying to breathe properly again. The sheer desire on your face, the expression that promised that things would get even better.

"Fuck, Yuta..." You sighed out, closing your eyes. "You're killing me."

"Tsk tsk tsk." Yuta chuckled again. "Not yet, Y/N."

You sat there quietly, waiting patiently. And soon enough Yuta was ready to give in to your wants. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he stood up with you still sitting in his lap, carrying you to the bed. As soon as he laid you down, he came over you, kissing you roughly as his hands roamed your body.

He removed your pants and underwear, tossing them aside, leaving you completely naked in front of him. He stared at your flawless figure, his eyes devouring your beauty, as he removed his own clothes. He loved the shape of your hips, the curves of your thighs, your perky breasts. Everything about you, his precious Y/N, was perfect to him.

"Should we have a lesson on foreplay? Cause you're clearly failing at that." Yuta said playfully as he laid his body down on top of yours.

"Shut up." You smiled at him, running your fingers through his messy hair. You leaned up and kissed him, pulling away once you heard him chuckle.

Yuta slowly started to kiss his way down, moving down to your navel. Kissing softly around it, causing goosebumps to form all over your body. He then moved lower, licking at your thighs and making you squirm underneath him. He placed his hand on your stomach, trailing his fingers lightly up your torso, coming to rest on your chest.

"God, your body is so fucking beautiful." Yuta whispered to you as he traced his fingers around your tits, tweaking your nipples. "Can't wait to see them bounce as I make love to you."

His words caused your heart to beat faster and you bucked against him, wanting him to fuck you already. But Yuta kept teasing you, torturing you until you just couldn't take it anymore.

"Yuta, please." You pleaded, needing him to touch you. "Please touch me."

He finally obliged and reached down, gently stroking your clit. You cried out in pleasure, closing your eyes as he ran his finger down the length of your slit, pressing against the entrance of your pussy. You arched your back as he rubbed the hood, making sure to hit your g-spot.

"Y/N, you're so wet." He murmured to you, making you shiver. "You want me to fuck you?"

You nodded frantically, moaning loudly.

"You want me to fuck you so bad, huh?" He asked as he used his index finger to slowly tease your entrance. "Well, do you want me to fuck you hard?"

You gasped as his finger entered your pussy, feeling so good. It felt so good that you thought you were going to cum at any second. With each passing second, Yuta's finger slowly worked its way into you, making you wiggle beneath him. If he kept doing that much longer, you would definitely come.

But Yuta wasn't done with you just yet. Not by a long shot. And as he removed his finger from you, you felt his tongue graze across your swollen clit, making you gasp. You tilted your head back, arching your back, begging him to touch you more. But Yuta didn't oblige immediately. Instead he stuck his middle finger in your mouth, making you gag as you tasted your juices. He then leaned forward and placed another finger in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself again.

He repeated this action several times, getting his fingers nice and slick with your pussy juice. Once he was satisfied, he placed his mouth back on your pussy, gently sucking on your clit. You squirmed underneath him, wanting him to hurry up and fuck you already. You didn't want him to use his fingers on you. You wanted him to stick his cock inside you, filling you up and thrusting deep inside you. Only to watch you come apart beneath him. Watching your tits sway with every move you made, hearing you scream his name, over and over again.

"Yuta, please..."

Yuta looked up at you, smiling widely as he saw how badly you wanted him. He liked the fact that he could bring this kind of pleasure to you. That he could excite you this much. Seeing the passion burning within your eyes. Seeing the lust glowing brightly in your brown orbs. Seeing you nearly go mad, desperate for him to finally fill you with his hardness.

Yuta then moved his face lower, burying his face between your legs. Gently licking at your pussy, tasting you. And boy, did you taste sweet. It was almost as if you wanted to punish him, but at the same time, you wanted to reward him. Reward him for being such a great lover. One that knows exactly how to make you moan in ecstasy. How to turn you on to the point where you can't think straight anymore. The one who makes you lose your mind with every stroke of his tongue or finger.

Yuta kept up his assault, not stopping for a moment. You wrapped your legs around his head, locking them in place as you tried to grind your pussy against his face. Wanting him to stick his tongue deeper inside you, to plunge his fingers inside your pussy. Anything to feel him even closer to you. To hear you scream his name over and over again. But Yuta didn't give in that easily.

"Fuck, baby."

He withdrew his face from your crotch, pushing himself up. Pushing his erection against your inner thigh, making you moan. He slowly leaned forward, pushing his hips forward. He brushed against your wet folds, sending electricity shooting through your body. "What do you want, Y/N?" He breathed against your neck.

"Y-Yuta...please.." You begged, reaching down to grab his dick. "I need you inside me."

Yuta groaned at the request, smiling as he watched you reach for his member. It was thick and long, curved in such a way that only your tight pussy would fit perfectly. "Don't worry, I'll fill you up in no time."

He grinned again, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours. As he did so, he gently pushed into you, slowly pushing himself inside of you. The feeling was so good that you moaned, enjoying every single inch of him. But Yuta didn't stop there. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. He deepened the kiss, thrusting into you harder and harder, making you whimper in delight.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close to you as you kissed him passionately. You felt his hands roaming your back, cupping your ass cheeks, squeezing them. Making you squeal as he continued to thrust inside of you. Every movement, every thrust was so amazing, you didn't know if you could handle it any longer. And yet Yuta didn't seem to be ready to slow down. He went on, thrusting into you, faster and harder. Causing your cries to increase in volume, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist, digging your nails into his skin.

You weren't even aware of when he picked up speed. Or how much harder he was thrusting. But soon enough you felt his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping tightly at your butt. His movements grew wilder and rougher, making you writhe under him. You tried to pull him closer to you, urging him to make you cum. And as if he understood what you needed, he increased his pace. Rubbing your clit hard as he slammed into you. You could feel yourself building up to orgasm quickly, unable to hold off much longer. You bucked against him, not caring about anything else besides the fact that you wanted to cum with him.

"More! Fuck, Yuta! Cum with me!"

And yet Yuta still kept going. Pushing himself further inside of you, thrusting harder than ever before. Hearing you scream his name, over and over again, just sent him over the edge. As he neared climax, he slammed his hips against you, making you scream out loud as he erupted inside of you. Filling you up with his warm seed, giving you everything you needed. Giving you an orgasm so intense that you swore you saw stars. Leaving you breathless and exhausted. You held onto him tightly, sobbing into his chest as you felt him collapse on top of you. You closed your eyes, finding it difficult to catch your breath after having such an incredible orgasm. But all you could do was lie there, enjoying the wonderful sensations coursing through your body.

"Are you alright?" Yuta asked, brushing your bangs out of your face.

"Mmhmm." You answered, nodding. "That was...incredible."

"Told you." Yuta chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "So how did I do?"

"It wasn't math...." You chuckled. You ran your fingers through his hair. "But you'd pass with flying colors if there was a class on sex."

Yuta laughed at that, shaking his head. "Why don't we continue our lesson later?"

You frowned at him, slightly confused. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Afterwards, after we finish taking care of some business." Yuta smirked at you, letting you know exactly what he meant.

"Oooohhhh....I see." You grinned mischievously, biting your lip. "You do know how to get a girl to say yes, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Yuta responded smugly. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

"Good answer." You winked at him, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. You didn't realize it at first, but the sun had gone down, casting shadows over both of you. After the eventful day you had today, you were too tired to bother moving. You simply laid there, holding onto Yuta as he continued to caress your body. Wishing that nothing else would interrupt this moment. That neither of you would wake up in the morning. That this could last forever.

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct smut #nct 127 #nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta #yuta smut

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mxpseudonym · 7 months

Text

Apple Cherry Blossom

Pairing: Luca x Blossom OC

Summary: Luca would like a little jealousy from his wife now and again.

Length: 1166 words

Warnings: None

A/N: I couldn't help myself 😭. I got inspired by “The Story of Ming Lan” and had to write this out. I hope you enjoy this out-of-the-blue post.

She held a half-eaten cherry in one hand and a pencil in the other. The account book on the desk in front of her laid open was for their new house. She would have to keep track of things like that now that she was officially a Changretta and a homemaker.

She put the rest of the cherry in her mouth, pitting it with her molars and tongue. Just when she was finished, a cup appeared in front of her mouth and she dropped the pit in to join the growing pile. Before she could think about it, another cherry was being held to her lips.

The attendant was none other than her husband who seemed both deep into the story he was telling her about his trip around town that led him to obtain a half pound of cherries, yet alert enough to steadily alternate between feeding them to her and providing a bowl to spit pits into.

She looked away from the amount they paid the butcher every month and up to Luca who was talking wildly with his free hand while patiently holding the cherry with the other.

“And finally we were walking through the street and this girl runs up to Ronnie. Would you believe it was Angela Cappoli? Could barely recognize her since she’s all grown up. And- here, it’s sweet,” Luca said, stopping his own story to push the fruit onto her.

She leaned back and picked up her glass of water first, taking a sip before catching the plump dark purple fruit between her teeth and letting him pull the stem.

“Angela Cappoli, can you believe it? Ma used to say we’d get married, you know?”

“Really? Why?”

“The Cappoli’s were bigger than us when I was in her belly, and she said a marriage could bring us together since Mrs. Cappoli was pregnant at the same time. Never worked out,” he concluded. Blossom nodded then dropped the pit in the cup. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that.”

“Worry?”

“Well we were a little sweet on each other for a while,” he admitted sheepishly. “But it wasn’t anything to be upset about.”

“I’m not upset, though?” She pointed out before before going back to her book. Luca blinked at her the squinted a bit. The next cherry from the little carton went to his mouth instead. This was his fault, really.

He was too honest and straightforward with her. He never wanted some miscommunication to come from vague, choppy words so he just told her everything. Blossom, therefore, didn’t worry about him lying to her. In conclusion, she had no reason to be the jealous type, sometimes to his dismay.

“It was a long time ago,” he continued carefully. “But today, she was real chatty. Kept reminiscing on old dates we had. And then she ran and gave me some of her parents’ apples.” He went back to feeding Blossom cherries, this time doing two in succession to watch her cheeks get a little chubby. “Don’t worry, I gave the apples to my sister-in-law.”

“You should’ve kept them, you like apples,” she said absently while flipping to a new page. Luca stared at her in disbelief.

“If my father told my mother, the sensible woman she is, that he’d taken the apples from an old sweetheart, even she’d give him a wack,” he told her. “And you’re not even the slightest bit worried about Angela?”

“Who cares about Angela? You’ve been talking for 20 minutes and haven’t even told me where these cherries came from,” Blossom reminded him. “Even if you wanted to marry her on your own, I wouldn’t mind if you took the apples. Your mother probably puts up a fuss to make your father feel good too. I doubt she thinks he’ll get taken away.”

Her mouth dropped open, ready to eat another cherry only to find there was none. She looked up, following Luca’s movements as he put the carton down and stood, heading to the couch. He laid out over the velvet and then looked at her with a dissatisfied face that was too similar to what children who felt wronged would pull. What was wrong with him now?

“You could pretend at least,” Luca grumbled. Blossom’s eyes roamed over his spread-out figure as she pondered. She was well within her rights to ignore him, and even confront him about being the strangest man she’d ever met. He wanted her to act foolish over another woman after all of the years they’d been together. No one could invite trouble, insist on it even, like him.

After a moment she stood. Picking up her glass, she took a healthy drink before tossing the last quarter at her husband and slamming the glass back onto her desk. Luca jolted, sitting straight up as he spluttered from the water up his nose. He blinked away droplets only to find Blossom with her hands on her hips.

“I leave you alone for one afternoon, and you go get yourself a woman to follow you around town?! A dog would be more loyal,” she scoffed. Luca blinked at her as she tsked and shook her head. “I should’ve known you weren’t over her. Her and her damn apples. Bastard.”

She clicked her tongue loudly and ignored the fact that the smile growing on Luca’s face had reached its widest point before he even knew to pretend like he wasn’t giddy. Luca wiped his chin and stood, walking around the coffee table to her.

“I haven’t thought about her in ages. Couldn’t even tell you what she was wearing. I only have my eyes on you. Ronnie’s got to keep me from walking in the street ‘cause I can’t see straight.”

Blossom turned from him and stopped herself from laughing at his ridiculousness. She only allowed a brief smile before rolling her eyes and putting her stern face back on. Luca’s arms didn’t waste a moment before they wrapped around her fully, almost making her lose balance.

“You’re mouth’s too sweet. Keeping me full of cherries just to pacify me. I shouldn’t have even let you come home. Go sleep on the street,” She scolded him the best she could with his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She could feel his grin.

“I have such a good wife. I’d sleep on the doorstep if you didn’t let me in. Happily.”

“I’ll let you off this time, but only because you can’t convince me you could find someone else to put up with you,” she concluded haughtily. Now that, he knew, was straight from her heart.

“I’ll go easier on my second wife,” he muttered, eyes closed peacefully even when Blossom’s head whipped around to him and tried unwrapping his arms that only wrapped tighter.

“Huh?!”

“Ah ah, stay like this. I’m just teasing. You’re my only wife until the end. The cherries are from Miss Martin. She said you’re sweet and pay good prices for her produce.”

Blossom muttered but finally leaned back into his embrace, “Rascal.”

#Luca x Blossom #Blossom OC #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Luca Changretta #Luca Changretta Fic #Luca Changretta Imagine #Luca Changretta x OC

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princesssmars · 1 year

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trephacard with a witch reader hcs !!

the three vampire slayers maybe found you when hunting down a rogue vampire themselves, arriving at the location of the vamp just to see you walking out with a few scratches on you, ready to go again as soon as your eyes land on alucard.

it was like love at first fight sight. it takes you a bit long to take care of alucard and trevor while fighting, the two men preferring to fight up close. but you're met with a welcome challenge when sypha starts deflecting your moves back at you. the two men are stood in shock when the two of you started complimenting each others tactics mid fight.

trevor was already tired of being the only human in the relationship and it intensifies when you join the relationship sadly.

he sometimes feels left out when the three of you are talking about some old forgotten form of magic or a tome you found in a recent adventure.

but just reassure him that hes amazing and skilled in so much that the rest of you dont know and he'll be fine. throw in a few sweet words too bc i know hes a sucker for words of affirmation even if he likes to act like hes not <3.

including him in your daily witchy behaviors will also go a long way, asking him to be your little helper as you brew a simple remedy for one of the sick kids in the village or coming with you to collect some fresh water for your cauldron that he loves to tease you for.

speaking of sypha she loves having someone who can also do magic like hers to talk to, constantly going over spells, sparring, and talking about your different magical backgrounds.

she loves learning so expect for her to force you to go with her through all of the tomes based on witches and mages in draculas library and the belmont hold. you cant even count on your hands how many times youve pulled all nighters with her and fell asleep on each other with reading a book.

loves using both of yours abilities to wreak playfup havoc, lets say if you have telekinesis she convinces you to move about objects in the middle of the night through random parts of the castle. the amount of times youve heard trevor scream is golden.

(you stopped when he brought up how the castle literally could be haunted by dracula himself, but you only switched up the ways youd prank him.)

alucard was a bit nervous around you after your first encounter, knowing you would be on edge around him seeing as he was a dhampir. but because of his half vamoure status, and also being the son of probably the most renowned vampire ever, hes very wise for being so young, and he lets his expertise come out in different ways, like telling you the history of a dish youre trying to prepare for all four of you or the cultural origins of a tune you were humming.

if you are already super powerful/strong at the time of meeting him then he will gladly play but also actually fight with you whenever youd like, eventually having to move the fights to a clearing a ways away from the castle so you dont break anything.

sometimes alucard doesnt feel like being violent though, so he asks you to join him for patrol/walks around the surrounding forest. sometimes you talk for hours straight and others neither of you said a word, but its perfect either way.

just something short to get out before my full length poly trephacard x witch reader fic comes out soon woopee.

#poly reader #castlevania x reader #castlevania #castlevania 2017 #alucard tepes x reader #alucard #adrien tepes #adrien tepes x reader #sypha belnades x reader #sypha belnades #trevor belmont x reader #trevor belmont #trephacard #trephacard x reader

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castrian-amore · 4 months

Text

Bitter had the Heart

Dead Tired(Tim Drake x Danny Fenton), Tim Drake-centric, unfinished, the author is plotting, temporary character death, please check out ao3 for full tags list

3/46 Chapters | Chapter Length: 3584 words

Chapter 3: We are Not Translating Fanfiction

Tim didn’t understand why he had even picked this class for this particular credit. He technically didn’t need it. Then again it seemed more interesting than the other classes and Tim had been hoping for a challenge for once. The teacher was big on working as team and while, yeah Tim could do it. He preferred to work alone on his topics and thankfully there was an odd amount of people in his class so when he requested to do the group assignments he allowed it.

Until today.

One Daniel “Danny” Nightingale, was a late transfer into the class for unknown reason. It was also the mysterious kid in the alley. He looked a little better in person but the vote was that he was definitely sick, whether just right now or long term had yet to be determined. He leaned heavily on a cane at the moment walking with a heavy limp.

Tim could point out his handsome features though. The higher cheekbones. The stunning raven hair, his piercing blue eyes. The kid definitely wasn’t immune to the streets. The way he held himself on the verge of running. The sunken wary eyes. This kid was far too comfortable with living in fight or flight mode. If he even knew anything else it would be surprising.

The teacher pointed to Tim giving him the spot right next to him advising sitting next to the person he would be partnered with. It wasn’t required by any means but it certainly was an option, and he did.

“So, now that that’s out of the way, where was I? Oh yes the IPA. The International Phonetic Alphabet.” Professor Kaivan began his speech as Danny pulled out a piece of notebook paper and pencil sitting next to Tim.

“Uh, hi, I’m Danny,”The kid held out his hand and Tim shook it. A cold chill going up his spine from how cold he was, damn.

“Tim Drake-Wayne,”he introduced with ease, expecting the man to back away or at least move seats because of his name. The Wayne name caught most people off guard but Danny seemed unfazed by it all. In fact he didn’t even flinch or stutter or reel at who he was talking to even.

“Nice to meet you Tim,”Danny gave him a bright smile. “Apologies for having you stuck with partnering for me after I’m already a late transfer.”

“No issue. Can I ask why you had to transfer?”Tim raised an eyebrow at the man. Their words quiet as the professor droned on.

“I was in Latin, and I can fluently speak and read latin. The professor kept getting things wrong and I kept correcting them. They kept insisting because they’re the ‘professor’ but I kept insisting I was right, which I was. She didn’t like that so she kicked me out. She got so annoyed she refused to teach me. Thus leaving me with about to loose my credit I really needed this semester so I asked if I could late transfer into another language based class.”

“And here you are?”

“Here I am. Only teacher that was willing to give me a chance.”

Tim snorts a little. Tim had only almost been kicked out of a class one, and that was one of his law classes. Tim kept correcting the professor over and over and over again, and it kept pissing off the professor so bad. Tim had a sneaking suspicion he was going to like this guy. He just hoped the guy was as intelligent as he seemed.

Being fluent in a dead language was no easy task. None of the bats were fluent in a lot of dead languages but they all knew several spoken languages and a little of a few dead ones. Tim more than others. Books were always his specialty. He preferred to spend the house researching alone in his room or the bat cave. It was part of the reason the other claimed he had a coffee addiction. He did not by the way. He didn’t know what Dick was even talking about.

“Professor Kaivan is pretty relaxed about that kind of stuff. He assigns minimal homework and prefers to do the group projects over everything else.”

“Yeah his rate-my-professor score is pretty high.”

“Sounds about right,”Tim agrees, turning back to the topic at hand for the moment.

“Now, learning the International Phonetic Alphabet is not for the faint of heart. Having someone to listen and assist when learning this is vital. One of the many reasons everyone in this room has a partner. Learning it is vital for the rest of your success in this class. Breaking down specific sounds a language makes and making it easy for everyone to read any language in this format.”

Professor Kaivan was an interesting man. Until four and a half years ago he had some of the worst rate your professor scores, but it was rumored that after the death of his partner he sobered up and wanted to help people. Since then, he has been a great teacher. Using his partner method to teach people, becoming a caring professor, giving students days in class to study and work on whatever work needed to be done. He wasn’t a super hard professor to have.

His hair was graying as the man was into his late 40s going on 50s. Sideburns and his beard graying though. He dressed pretty chill too, half the time coming into class wearing a casual cardigan and a beanie. He was an accomplished guy with a full on doctorate in linguistics. Masters in Psychology and bachelors in the study of Italian. Most of his focus seemed to be on the intricacies of the Italian language but Tim was fluent in Italian and didn’t care to take any of his italian classes. Not that the man had many.

“I know the 107 letters can be difficult and if you don’t know what to listen for they can sound similar to each other, but that’s why this whole unit is just on breaking down the IPA, and making sure all of us can read, and understand it. Okay?”

Mummers of okays and yesses echoed through the lecture hall. Tim opened his phone, scrolling to Dick’s phone number and clicking on it.

Timmy Boi: Guess who just walked into my Linguistics class as a late transfer?

Dickie Bird: Who?

Timmie Boi: Alley kid

Dickie Bird: No fucking way. Is he that rude in person?

Timmie Boi: No not yet at least. We’re partnered up for the semester though, so plenty of time for me to find out heh. Dude’s got a cane.

Dickie Bird: So not our so-called mystery vigilante Jason wants us to meet?

Timmie Boi: Unlikely, He also looks sick as a mother fucker Dick. Like it’s bad.

Dickie Bird: Damn, so still no leads until Friday?

Timmie Boi: Unfortunately not. Cams still distorted as fuck with those symbols?

Dickie Bird: Just like all the others. Only copies we have are hand drawn references. No one can get a clear pic.

Timmie Boi: Anyluck on the Distortion dude? Anything on him?

Dickie Bird: Uhh, he showed up 3 years ago? Works for Jason mostly. Started as a runner, then became body guard and personal protection for a lot of the shipments going in and out of Jason’s domain. That was only after bribing over 15 inmates too.

Timmie Boi: How the fuck did Jason keep someone, a meta namely, from us for so long?

Dickie Bird: Who knows. One guy said something about protecting a child. The child is Jason’s guard dog. Brutal when he needs to be. Maybe he’s scarier than he looks? People kept quiet over fear?

Timmie Boi: You’re the people person, but even then if people are scared we would have heard something else. I just think we have something else in the picture here that we’re missing it all.

Dickie Bird: Well, any cameras he passed by that night went to static. I had Barb check it out for us.

Timmie Boi: So his gift can mess with cameras? Only mildly concerning.

Dickie Boi: Wait, why are we having this conversation right now Tim? You’re in class?!?!?! I’m leaving you alone. Pay attention, and don’t fall asleep, and DRINK WATER FOR ONE IN YOUR CAFFEINE ADDICTED LIFE.

Timmie Boi: YOU CAN’T STOP ME DICK. I’M GETTING COFFEE RIGHT AFTER THIS.

Speaking of coffee, he could probably get mystery-dude’s phone number for their homework and stuff. Maybe he could even get coffee with him and help him with his classes. And maybe find out more about that night in the alley.

“What are you doing after class?”Tim spoke up to look over at the man. Danny wasn’t even paying attention to the lecture. He was… drawing? Way better than anything Tim could draw that was for sure. Maybe he would get along with Damian? Tim liked the easier stuff, taking pictures. He could draw but he didn’t like it nearly as much as being able to get behind a camera and take some beautiful photos. Man, he should get back into that again. Dick was always pressing him to get back into a hobby outside of crime solving. He liked to stick with what he was good at though.

“Oh? Uh nothing really, just contemplating existence. Why what’s up?”Danny gave a soft shy smile. Oh no. His smile was cute. Also wait, contemplating existence?

“Well, I figured if we’re gonna be stuck together all semester we could get coffee and talk about the project and get to know each other a little better.” Tim could watch a wave of anxiety slip over the man.

“Well, I don’t know maybe,”a small shrug then a quiet moment of contemplation. “Actually, sure that’d be nice!”

“Great!”

“Wait, we already have a project?”Danny’s eyes widened looking from his doodle of something? Tim couldn’t make it out but it was pretty? Looked like a pool of swirling water sketched in a gray scale. Who knows. This guy must have been so distracted he didn’t hear the teacher’s words about their project. Rewriting a speech in a non-english language into the phonetic alphabet.

Tim couldn't help but laugh a little at him.

This caught a small look from the teacher and Tim stifled his laughter a little even as Danny began to fight his own laughter as the two looked at each other. That was so dumb. Why was he even laughing at that?

“I’ll explain after class.”

“Sounds good to me, I’m just sitting here… doodlin’.”

“I see that..” Tim gave him a smile as Danny chuckled himself turning back to his drawing. The man stretching his arms upwards turned to actually pay attention to the teacher. A small frown coming across his face noticing the thin spindly scars edging up the side of his neck across the back of his neck. What the fuck was that? He shook his head.

Tim stayed mostly alert the rest of the hour long class. Kaivan had started going through the various letters of the IPA and their origins and why they were chosen. It was interesting to say the least. He had learned a lot and the class was definitely different than what he was used too. Danny on the other hand.

Fuck Tim hoped the dopey smiles and spaced out stared was how he payed attention or their partnership was going to be a lot more strenuous than he originally thought. He swore he saw him falling asleep a couple times there before jerking himself awake. Not that Tim could blame him. He averaged only about 3 hours a night if he was lucky. Then again, Tim didn’t exactly play the whole “catch up on sleep” game.

It did take a gentle nudge from Tim to get the man away and on their way to the coffee shop. He was slow as he walked with the cane but Tim didn’t say anything about it. Everyone had their little quirks and issues. Lord knows Tim had his.

The cold autumn air in Gotham was settling around them.

“What’s your major?” It was Danny who spoke up with a quiet smile.

“Oh, business. I plan to take over my father’s company,”Tim replied.

“Wow, impressive.” Danny looked up at the sky with a small chuckle as Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thanks, what’s yours?”

“Engineering, I was going to do Astronomy but we’ll the Gotham Skies aren’t exactly the clearest.” Danny chuckled softly as Tim gave a nod.

“The smog helps no one. Glad you found a major you like though.” There was a silence settling between them but it didn’t lessen the mood in fact it almost felt welcomed in a quiet way.

“Same to you!” Danny looked up at the crows stopping the duo in their tracks. There were almost 10 crows just watching them. Tim, had never seen that. All them staring at Danny. “Boo.” The man whispered and with a small chuckled, all 10 flew off the branches and into the air leaving Tim to watch and then follow. Missing how the birds simply landed up ahead.

Tim was sort of lost in thought about the revelations they could possibly have about the whole Distortion situation.

“Heyo, Timmy,”Danny’s voice dragged him from his thoughts and his slow pace holding the door open. “Don’t hurry up and you’ll be soaked.” He hadn’t even noticed a slow drizzle starting to fall from the sky. He held his hand out before running to meet the man.

Tim joined the man into the warm coffee shop. The scent of pumpkin spice filling their noses as they moved to get in line.

“Didn’t get too wet did you?”Danny asked concern surprising Tim.

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me though. I might be more concerned for when we leave here though.”

“I’m not too worried.” The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “Can’t kill me worse than I already have been.” Was that a death joke?

“Oh?”Tim gave a smirk. He wasn’t normally one for puns, those were Dick’s thing but also… Dick wasn’t here. “Did it have you rolling in your grave?” Dick could never find out about this but then Danny’s shit eating grin only widened across his face.

“Oh, for sure it was to die for after all.”

“I can’t I’m sorry,”Tim laughed with a smile. “What’re you getting? I’ll pay since I invited you out.”

“Oh, I might scare you with my order.”

“I promise you won’t. Mine is insane myself.”

“One of those extra large pumpkin spice lattes with 10 shots of espresso.”

“Extra large americano with 8 shots of espresso,”Tim quipped. “I see you’re a man just as insane as I am.”

“Oh, for sure. I’ve never met someone with an order just as bad as mine,”he admitted as he stared up at the menu. “How are the sandwiches here? Are they pretty dead-licious?”

“Oh god..”

“Or I don’t know, pretty frightful?”

“Please Danny.”

“I bet they’re boo-mbastic.”

“Who ever uses that word anymore.”

Okay Halloween was coming up admittedly. Yes there were halloween and fall decorations coming but, but god dammit Danny. It was like having another Dick around.

“You decided to fuel this.”

“I did not decide to fuel anything!”Tim complained just as they got to the counter ordering their coffees. It was a barista Tim was familiar with. A kind girl named Sarah who seemed to be all too familiar with the two of them.

“Oh! Can I also get the mac and cheese please!”Danny offered another charming smile putting some money in the tip jar. “I can pay you back Tim.”

“No worries.” Tim gave a shrug.

“Alrighty and here you are Tim.” Sarah handed him his card back with the receipt as he himself put some money in the jar.

“Damn, she knows your name?”

“I know you too Danny, Mr. 10 shots of espresso at midnight last week. You also fucking work here.”

“Love you guysssss, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Danny practically purred out with an innocent smile.

“You two together, scare me,”the barista motioned between the two of them. “But honestly, we were waiting for you two to meet.”

“I’m innocent,”Tim vouched.”Also wait, what?”

“I watched you order an extra large cup with only espresso shots in it for Finals last semester.” Sarrah refused to answer the apparent group that had been waiting for Tim and Danny to meet each other.

“I was busy!”

“You weren’t sleeping!”

“Anyways I’m going to go over there,”Danny pointed to an empty table by the window.

“Yeah, Tim. How about you go over there. With your little Date,”She emphasized the word as Danny was already over sitting down unpacking his backpack onto the table.

“He’s not my date! We literally just met!”

“Yet. Next in line please!”

“Sarah-- no-- I swear to--”Tim could have sworn he saw an exchanging of cash behind the counters. Were they betting on something. What the fuck were they betting on?!? He hissed and moved to join Danny in the opposite seat.

“So did you even catch what the group project is? How much have you studied of the Linguistics 101 class anyways?” Tim pulled out his laptop setting it in front of him. He logged in giving a small smile of the silly chaotic and group picture they had gotten last year at Christmas. Bruce stood on the far right and Jason on the far left Dick’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Damian was trying to stab Tim again who was moving to dodge it. Steph chaotically cheering the gremlin on. Cass quietly wondering if she should intervene in the middle. Duke full on panicked at what was going on as it was his first Christmas with the family. Barb covering her mouth in laughter in front of Bruce. He wanted to make sure she was included. It was his favorite photo of him and his siblings.

Fuck. Danny had been talking to him.

“Earth to Timmy.” A wave of a hand in front of his face.

“Please just Tim,”he laughs. “Sorry, yes?”

“I was asking about the IPA. Are you familiar with it? I have no idea on anything about it.”

“I know like half of it? I’ll have to learn the other half,”he admits. “But yes, the project.”

“Fuck, yeah okay what’s this project?”

“It involves reading.”

“No! WHY!”

“In another language.. That neither of us speak.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, so we’re supposed to write down a 1,000 minimum word speech, or chapter from a book or whatever and put it into the International Phonetic Alphabet.”

“I don’t know about you but I speak a lot, like A lot of languages.”

“Yeah.. I feel the same way.”

“What do you speak?” Danny playfully pushed Tim’s computer screen down from booting up the program the professor had given them to use to type out the phonetic alphabet. It was still apparently a nightmare program, but he had decided to type it so he wouldn't be deciphering shitty handwriting.

“Mandarin, Chinese, Italian, German, French, russian, Japanese, tagalog, spanish, I think that’s all of them?”

“You speak Tagalog too!” Danny’s words switched with ease to the language.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tim had to laugh at that one. “What else do you speak?”

“Same things are you but, Esperanto, Swahili, Cantonese, javanese, Sardo(technically a dialect but you know same difference), Ukrainian, I think that’s all?”

“I thought I was the Polyglot. Oh! I also speak ASL and BSL.”

“I know bits and pieces of ASL, definitely no BSL though,”he laughs softly. “But wait what other languages does that leave?”

“Well, a lot but I mean. We could always pick an easy one we both know.”

“Italian?”

“Yeah, please. I do not want translate someone in a non-latin based alphabet. It registers funny in my brain.”

“I gotta ask though Danny… Esperanto?”

“Okay, leave me alone! I had a friend who spoke it and taught me it so we could shit about others.”

“That’s fuckin’ hilarious though,”he smirked. “But what should we translate?”

Danny looked like he was about to burst out laughing. “What if we just fucking translated the Divine Comedy.”

“Danny Nightingale, are you telling me we should rewrite one of the most famous works of Italian writing, ever. That is also notoriously translated, a lot? And is--- you know.”

“Ma Divine Commedia,”Danny laughed. Tim could not with him right now. “E la fanfiction Tim.”

“YEAH I KNOW, that’s why I can’t believe you’re suggesting it.”

“COMMEDIA.” Danny proclaimed with a snort. Fuck that was cute. Thank god his name was called to grab their stuff. He could ignore the small twinge in his chest as he brought them their coffee and the food for Danny.

“Let’s get this over with I guess.”

“YES!” Danny threw his first into the air in excitement. “This is the start a beautiful friendship Tim, I promise.”

“Are we about to be nightmares to our poor professor?”

“What? Nooooo.”

“Oh yes we fucking are,”Tim rolled his eyes and smiled as he sipped his drink pulling up the original document. They were so fucked, but at least it would be funny. If Danny was his new partner for his class maybe Friday would come sooner than he thought.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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saphirered · 1 year

Note

Hiii

I was wondering if you could write something about percy and his scars? Maybe a hurt/comfort with the reader?

I imagine Ripley did a number on him and I feel like it’s and angsty prompt that never gets used

Thank you if you do!

Love ur fics :D

Hello, Anon! Hope this turned to your liking! 😘

Percy is not a man who lacks confidence. Elegance and eloquence are the ways he holds near his heart and mind like a scholar might their life’s work. They are his armour and shield as much as they are his weapon. He knows how dangerous those skills may be with some amount of charm and while he may not have a silver tongue like some of his companions he certainly does not lack persuasiveness in his ways. His charm might be more tailored to the high society where his noble birth does half the job for him and his pretty face the rest, or so you’d told him. You’d also told him in certain situations he might be better off keeping his mouth shut altogether. Of course you’d joked but he’d quipped back sarcastically claiming you seemed to have no issue hanging onto his every word. Your counter could only have been described to be a blatant flirt; he could be reading you the ledgers of Whitestone’s castle staff and you’d be enamoured. Oh the satisfaction in your eyes when he refused to admit his cheeks flushed. You just have him wrapped around your finger don’t you?

This simply proves a fact; you like him and he likes you. You’ve not been shy about it. He’s not been either. You’ve shared some moments that might just bring you to be closer than regular friends. Sure he confides in his friends sometimes, when he has to and can’t avoid it but to you, it doesn’t take much to coax him into talking to the point the others send you to deal with him when he’s in one of his moods. He’d do nearly anything for you, whatever you ask. He wouldn't go to the lengths he’d go for you for just anyone else. He lets you in when he keeps others at arm’s length. When you embrace him the cold dead winter in his heart eases and knows some sun once more to the point he longs for it. And of course while it’s a bit of a secret you may or may not have shared some things Percy would never engage in with ‘just friends’. This thing between you two it has been evolving.

When you heard about his sleepless nights where rest would not come to him and he’d push himself to the limits to where his body decides it would take no more, you’d scolded him many times. You’d become a bit of a night’s watch over helping him settle and guiding him to sleep. Despite all odds, it worked. You brought rest to his life. A nighttime routine would start with a cup of herbal tea; your own personal recipe. You’d simply talk, enjoy each other’s company. By the time the cup is finished Percy usually feels his mind rest enough where he will not stare at the ceiling of his bedroom until dawn but he’d taken you up on your offer to stay with him until he fell asleep. He thought it ridiculous at first but you’d simply take a seat near the window and watch the stars. He found himself able to focus on you, commit that image to memory and now when you’re not there, that image soothes him to the world of dreams. You’d fallen asleep in that chair more times than he can count.

Things have changed since then. You do not sit in that chair that much anymore. Instead you sit with your back against the headboard, a book open in your lap and a hand loosely clasped in his. Percy notes that it must be somewhat in the middle of the night. He woke up but doesn’t feel exhausted, though he would not refuse more sleep. He puts on his glasses. Then he sees you, and first thought goes to what discomfort you’ll be in if you awake like this come morning. That’s concern for something so trivial. Were you anyone else he might have claimed action and consequence and deemed it just that but the mere thought of you possibly in discomfort, let alone on his behalf, he wishes to avoid that. He carefully pulls his hand from yours. You stir a little. Then he takes the book, closes it and puts it on the nightstand. He slides one arm under your shoulders and the other your knees, slowly allowing you to slide down without hurting yourself. Your eyes open sleepily when you’re about half way down. Percy cringes when you mutter incoherently, though it’s somewhat akin to the sound of his name.

“It’s alright. You can stay here. Go back to sleep.” He whispers but you rub your eyes and blink a few times until you focus on him proper.

“Are you going to sleep too?” You ask and the sound of your voice makes him fight the urge to shiver. When he doesn’t answer you chalk it up to him do anything but sleep. He didn’t expect you to be this quick in drowsiness. You grasp onto the front of his shirt and pull him down. He catches himself because your mind did not seem to process the fact he’d land half on top of you. “I swear if you do not go sleep I will tie you-“ You had tightened the grip on the neckline of his shirt and gave a light tug but you suddenly fall silent. You frown, let go of the fabric and slide into a sitting position. He follows suit confused.

“What’s wrong?” Percy suspects the worst. What did you see? What did you hear? Are there intruders? Is something coming? Are you hurt? You shake your head.

“Percy, what are those?” You’re not even sure how to formulate that question.

“What?” He’s confused. You go to reach for his shirt, and pull to lift it. “I think now is hardly the time-“ And then he feels your fingers trace one of the raised marks on his skin. Oh. Percy takes in a deep breath. You hadn’t seen them before. They’d been covered previously. Or at least most of them were. It’s not like you didn’t know he’d have some reminders of the life he lives or lived for that matter. You’d seen some when he rolled up his sleeves; the tiny burns and cuts and scrapes from his works and adventures. But what you might have seen just now, those are the ones that sometimes still make him cringe when looking in the mirror, not because of what they look like but the memories associated with them. He’s gotten better but sometimes he still has nightmares after a glance.

You trail along a jagged scar on the left side of his abdomen. It’s faded but even in the low light you notice the distressed veins around the healed injury. It did not heal well. Percy, out of reflect pulls your wrist into a tight grip. He lets go as fast as you felt his fingers squeeze tightly and you find guilt in his eyes when you retract you hand subconsciously hold it close to your chest. He opens his mouth to apologise but you just twist onto your knees and throw your arms around his neck. You whisper to him; apologies, words of comfort, anything you can think of in a desperate attempt to pull him from whatever dark corner of his mind he might have slipped into. You know he didn’t when you feel his arms wrap around you and rub along your back. You remain like that for a couple of minutes until Percy pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you-“ He starts but doesn’t look into your eyes. “I should have warned you earlier. I can leave you to your thoughts should you prefer.” You lift his chin, make him look at you and show him with your mere presence you are not going anywhere unless he tells you to. You’re not running. You’re not abandoning him. You’re here for him.

“Percy, they’re scars. Not a second head that demands the blood of tiny animals. I just- I just got caught off guard. I knew what you went through was-“ You look for the right word to describe what he endured but can’t find the right one. “I just never thought the reminders would be this present.”

“I tend to ignore their presence when it suits me.”

“Do they hurt?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” In all honesty for some of them the nervous damage was enough to leave him deprived of sensation to the area altogether, and leave a numb phantom feeling at best. They haven’t hurt in a very long time. What pain there may be is mostly of the mind and not body. Though, some injuries come quite useful. They act up when the weather changes. Tension fades from him and he’s reminded he’s only had two hours of sleep. You even less most likely.

“Do they bother you?” Percy lays back down, allowing himself to lay on his back but instead of staring at the ceiling like he so often has in solitude, he turns his head enough to look at you.

“Sometimes.” He admits and offer a pitied smile and nod, like you’re coming to terms with his suffering and it hurts you. It’s a scary thing to mean so much to another person but he thinks he’s okay with that, given he feels the same about you.

“When they do, tell me. If you want.” You’re about to take your previous place against the headboard and reach for the book over him on his nightstand where he had put it. He stops you.

“I will.” He speaks genuinely and you know it. “Now please, don’t kill your back. Lay down. Get some rest.” It’s rare to see Percy this soft but it’s definitely not unwelcome. You don’t reply but follow orders and lay down on your side facing him. Out of habit Percy reaches out to take your hand and hold it to his chest. You snuggle a little closer, take off his glasses and reach over to discard them atop the book he prevented you from getting. His eyes have trouble focussing on you but he can still comprehend the silent message you relay; go to sleep. He sighs, tugs your entwined hands slightly. You accept the invitation until you’re pressed against his side. He closes his eyes and slowly lets sleep overtake him. Percy could feel the pushing and pressing of those dark memories but they gain no ground, not even when he feels himself slip into unconsciousness. He’s constantly aware you’re right there with him, even in the darkness of his dreams, they do not turn to nightmares.

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