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yoon-kooks · 1 year

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playboys & pancakes | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your fuckboy model friend Park Jimin returns from Paris, Jungkook can't help but feel a little jealous and protective over you even though the two of you aren't technically dating yet.

⛓️word count: 2.6k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, oc is a lil brat, boy gets jealous🤭, soft cuddling, jimin is a tattooed fuckboy, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this was a cute lil drabble request for jealous!jjk!! if you make it all the way to the end, there ✨might✨ be a special teaser... lmk if yall would be interested👀

In the middle of class, Jungkook stares at the seat next time him where you’re busy giggling and texting away for some unknown reason. He’s dying to know the context so he can use it against you later to see that pretty smile once more.

“Hey you,” you whisper, leaning over in his direction. It’s rare for the two of you to talk in the classroom since you both agreed it was best to lay low about whatever the fuck this is between you and him. It must be something urgent. “Do you know any cute girls who are single right now?”

Jungkook just blinks at you in utter disbelief. You’re already sick of him, aren’t you? You’d rather fool around with some cute girl than fuck some loser who makes her finish her homework a week before it’s due. Well shit. It was fun while it lasted.

“Asking for a friend,” you add. Not helping, by the way. Could you make it any more obvious that you’re trying to break off this… arrangement between you and him? “My friend said he’s down bad.”

Wait.

You flash your phone screen in Jungkook’s face for him to read what you were presumably giggling about earlier.

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “A what tattoo?!🥵🍆”

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “Btw please tell me you know a cute girl who is as down bad as I am”

Jimin🍄 [10:47AM] “Paris was not as romantic as they make it out to be”

Y/N✨ [10:48AM] “hold on lemme ask the dilf”

The dilf has a lot of questions. The first being, “You have friends?” He’s mostly just teasing you for lacking genuine friendships despite being so popular, but this is the first time he’s heard you talk about a friend that wasn’t him.

“He’s a friend from high school,” you explain. “He’s been studying abroad for the past few years and just got back yesterday. I’m letting him crash at my place this weekend so we can catch up.”

Hmm. Jungkook wasn’t planning on sharing you with anyone this weekend, but this is a much better scenario than you outright abandoning him for someone else. In fact, he might even know just the right person to satisfy your friend’s needs.

“And why are you calling me a dilf—”

He never gets an answer because the professor calls on you to answer a question on the board. You glance up and give the correct answer with no hesitation despite the distractions next to you and on your phone. Your nerdy side is just as attractive as your bubbly personality.

He’s so lucky to have a girl like you.

“Jimin wants to have brunch with you tomorrow, by the way,” you say on Friday night as you snuggle closer to Jungkook on the couch. It’s one of those rare wholesome nights at his place where you aren’t dripping in pleasure, moaning your little heart out with him inside you. “I told him you’d hook him up with a baddie and now he wants to interrogate you to make sure you have good taste.”

“I think I have pretty good taste.” He looks right at your cute naked face with no makeup on. You’re also borrowing one of his oversized tees and using it as a nightshirt. Obviously, he has amazing taste.

“So you’ll come?” Your smile is so bright. How could he ever say no to that? “We can meet up with him there and go to my place after.”

“Sure,” he says. Besides, he’d like to see this Jimin guy for himself. From what you’ve said about him, he seems like a cool dude studying fashion design. But it’s also kind of fucked up that your closest friend abandoned you here without anyone else to rely on for all those years apart. It’s shitty to think how alone you must’ve felt until the two of you started talking barely a month ago.

“Cool, I think you’ll get along with him,” you yawn into his chest while twirling his hair around your finger. Thank god he decided to let his hair grow out so you could play with it as much as you want. “He’s like you but friendlier and fuckboy-ish.”

“If he’s friendly and fuckboy-ish, how is that like me?” Jungkook isn’t picking up what you’re putting down. He doesn’t like the sound of the fuckboy part, either.

“He has a lot of tattoos and a cute face, but he’s kind of mean in a teasing way. Just like you.” The twirling is slowing down. “A lot of people say he’s super attractive too.”

You reach for your phone that somehow ended up on the other side of the boy and pull up Jimin’s Instagram. Jungkook studies the page and clicks on a pic of your friend all suited up in Dior. Damn. Not only is he handsome, but he also knows how to pose and look good in photos. You kind of left out the part about him being an actual model.

Of course you have another attractive guy friend who enjoys teasing you. Of course this guy happens to be staying with you while he’s “down bad.” And of course Jeon Jungkook is not going to let himself feel a certain way about it.

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up to your arms wrapped around his waist as you’re still snoozing away on the couch. Very carefully, he peels your arms away one at a time, hops out of the blanket, and gives you his sleepy kitten to hold onto in place of him. You make this cute little whiny sound as you cuddle the cat.

Successful in leaving you undisturbed, the boy heads to his room and opens his sorry excuse of a closet. The majority of his wardrobe is just basic shit like hoodies, plain tees, ripped jeans, and sweats for the gym. He’s never really put a whole lot of thought into his fashion, but he woke up this morning with an urge to look somewhat good for brunch. It totally has nothing to do with that fashion model friend of yours.

After a good ten minutes of contemplation, he eventually goes with a nice crewneck and one of the few pairs of black jeans that aren’t all torn up. It’s just brunch anyway.

By then, you’ve woken up and thrown on that pretty beige sundress you left behind a few weeks ago. He’d conveniently washed it for you when he was doing a light load. Now you smell like his lavender laundry soap.

When the two of you get to the brunch place, you claim a booth and wait for Jimin to arrive. Your arm brushes against his as you flap through the menu. The booth is pretty spacious, and yet you’re sitting that close to him. He doesn’t mind, of course.

“I’m gonna get the pink strawberry waffles… but the chocolate banana pancakes look really good, too.” You point at the pictures like a child. “What about you?”

“Chocolate banana pancakes.” He didn’t have his mind made up until that very moment. You’re always stealing his food off his plate these days anyway. He might as well pick something you’ll enjoy.

“Ooh, good, now I can try it too,” you sing. Called it.

“Never said I was sharing,” Jungkook shakes his head. You both know he’s bluffing.

“What do I have to do for a taste?” you ask so innocently while leaning your soft tits against his arm. “Do you want me to get down on my hands and knees and suck dad—”

“Hi Y/N, hey Jungkook.” Your handsome model friend slides into the other side of the booth and interrupts your enticing proposal. Your eyes light up in a way Jungkook has never seen before.

“Jimin!” you smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook adds, a lot less enthusiastic than you. Of course Jimin is even better looking in person.

After ordering, you ask Jimin to spill the deets on his Paris adventures. In addition to an internship, he also did in fact spend some time modeling for a few luxury brands. Now that he’s back home, he’s planning on taking it easy for a bit before moving forward with fashion design.

So that’s why he’s asking for a baddie to kill time with. He can have anyone he wants as long as it’s not you.

As the two friends catch up, Jungkook notices the way you lean forward toward the other boy and laugh at nearly everything he says—although to be fair, he is a pretty funny and charming guy. That’s the kind of guy that would complement your playful personality so well.

The food comes shortly after, and you stare intensely at Jimin’s French toast even though you have a pretty pink waffle right in front of you and Jungkook’s pancakes right beside you.

“Really? The guy who just got back from France ordered French toast?” you snicker, turning to Jungkook to get him on your side. He chuckles, but only because you’re cute when you’re being mischievous.

“Would you like some, Y/N?” Jimin waves off your silliness. He must be used to it because it hardly affects him the way it affected Jungkook.

“Yes, please.” You cut off a small piece of French toast and go in for a taste. It gets not one but two thumbs up from you.

“Still a foodie, I see,” Jimin observes. You nod. He must’ve been the one you were dragging around to different food places back in high school. But now that’s Jungkook’s job, and he’d like to keep it that way.

So Jungkook waits. He waits patiently for you to ask for a taste of his food. After all, he ordered the chocolate banana pancakes with you in mind.

But instead, you’re minding your own business and digging into your pink waffle. Weren’t you offering a whole blowjob for a taste of his pancakes a little while ago? Now you suddenly don’t want it because he’d joked about not sharing it? This is stressing him out more than it should.

You turn and catch the boy next to you aggressively sawing through his pile of pancakes with his butter knife. Hopefully you don’t pick up on his distress.

“Are the pancakes goo—” Before you can finish your question, a few freshly cut pancake pieces are plopped onto your plate beside the pink waffle.

“You said you wanted to try it, didn’t you?” Jungkook tries his best to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

Your Surprised Pikachu face quickly turns into a smug look. “Thought you weren’t sharing,” you hum as you indulge in the moist chocolatey delight. At the same time, your free hand casually runs along the boy’s inner thigh and gives it a squeeze under the table. Playing innocent might be part of your personality, but you know exactly what you’re doing to him. “The pancakes are yummy, by the way.”

Still, your touch is as much of a comfort as it is a turn-on.

“So, are you still interested in the hot girl Jungkook knows?” you ask Jimin. Jungkook hasn’t even shown you a pic of the girl, and yet you’re already hyping her up. You also aren’t aware that it’s someone he’s slept with in the past, but he’ll address that another time.

“Listen, when I said I was down bad,” Jimin lowers his voice, “I meant I need to get laid as soon as possible.”

“Damn, what happened in Paris? Who hurt you?” you frown as you take a big sip of coffee.

“I’ll spill the tea later,” he sighs. Looks like it’s still a touchy subject.

To lift the other boy’s spirit a little, Jungkook pulls up an Instagram page filled with a ton of colorful floral tattoos. If you scroll down enough, you might even find a few pics of his tattoos there too.

“She’s a tattoo artist.” He rolls up his sleeve and points out a few floral pieces that match the style from the Instagram page. “She doesn’t really post pics of herself, but she probably has more tattoos and piercings than me.”

“And she’s hot,” you add in even though that’s already been established.

“I’ll ask if she’s free.” Jungkook pulls up her contact info and shoots her a message. She responds right away.

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “Do you have time for a walk-in today?”

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “I know a guy who’s interested in you”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😳”

Jungkook🐍 [11:40AM] “interested in your tattoos**”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😔”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “todays been slow pls send him my way thx”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “tell him he gets a discount if hes cute”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “IM KIDDING PLS DONT TELL HIM THAT ILL GET CANCELED”

“Yeah she’s free right now,” Jungkook says, trying to keep a straight face. “I’ll give you the address to her studio.”

“Ooh, perfect,” you squeak at Jimin who still doesn’t look completely sold on the whole thing. “You can scout it out as soon as we’re done here.”

“Wait, are you sure it’s okay? I know I said I needed this asap, but I’m mostly here to visit you,” he says.

“Well, now that you’re back from overseas, we can hang out anytime. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him, downing the rest of your coffee. You’re such a good friend. “And besides, it could be life-changing sex waiting for you at the tattoo shop.”

Jimin nods at your encouragement. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll go.”

“Good.” You slide your ass right over Jungkook’s lap to get out of the booth. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t lean into it a little. “Be right back. I drank too much liquid.”

With you off to the bathroom, Jungkook sits alone across from the other boy. It always gets awkward when the mutual friend disappears. What are they supposed to talk about now that you’re gone?

“So… are you two, like, dating…?” Jimin wastes no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “Y/N always avoids the question whenever I ask.”

“What makes you ask?” The question is mostly to stall time until you get back, but Jungkook is also curious to know what you’ve said about him.

“The way she talks about you makes it seem like you guys are married,” he chuckles. Wow, he has a charming eye smile too. Jungkook would’ve been threatened by that level of charm, but he seems to have already let go of that feeling. “She told me you’re raising a kitten together and that you’re always scolding or spoiling it like a true dilf—her words, not mine. She won’t shut up about how you’ll make a good dad one day.”

At least he knows where the dilf propaganda comes from now. He’ll admit it’s a lot more wholesome than he thought. You really do just gush about him to your best friend. Maybe you feel the same way he does when it comes to this unestablished relationship between you and him.

Maybe you also want something more.

When you return, you finish up your food, split the bill, and send Jimin on his way to the tattoo studio. Hopefully, it goes well for him. Not because Jungkook is worried the other boy might turn around and try something funny on you, but because he wants any friend of yours to experience the same type of feelings he feels when he’s with you. Damn. He wasn’t expecting to get all gushy this weekend, but he’s not going to fight it either.

“What’d you guys talk about while I was in the bathroom?” you ask on the way back to the car.

“Not much,” Jungkook shrugs. “Just about you calling me a dilf.”

“Oh no, I feel so exposed,” you whine in your favorite sarcastic tone. Then you turn to him and bat your lashes. Brat. “Am I wrong, though?”

a/n: okay i dont normally put notes like this at the end of my fics, but im gonna tease a potential jimin spinoff💖 lmk what you guys think!

⛓️pairing: model!jimin x tattooartist!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, fwb2l, possible angst (??)

⛓️summary: After breaking up with your on-and-off boyfriend for hopefully the last time, an old fling sends his handsome model friend to your tattoo studio. And apparently, he’s as done with love as you are.

⛓️warnings: jimin & oc are both heartbroken and starved for sex (as you might have noticed from this drabble lol), oc is an actual baddie with tattoos everywhere and a belly piercing, there will be a lot more warnings if i decide to go through with this!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

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kimchikrust · 11 months

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for all the hoes (respectful) that wanted part 2 and were so patient. I was stressed about the pressure to make it perfect but hopefully it's good enough. lol

fyi: cursing | @sarahlovesseb ily 💗

part 2 of cupid's chokehold -> bkg's turn to confess

Fight or Flight (1.7k)

Recent News: Favorite Crime-Fighting Duo Hiding Secret Relationship?

Usually, Katsuki wouldn't glance twice at the tabloids, but when his face is plastered everywhere with a dreamy expression directed at your figure, he's become a ticking time bomb.

The photo is taken entirely out of context, he convinces himself. His brain is firing on all cylinders to figure out what was going through his mind during that interview, but all that comes up is how impressed he was after the fight. All he remembers is how impressive you were.

"It's not that big of a deal," you assure him with a playful tone and a smile. You're looking over a magazine cover that showcases the pair of you, your legs kicked up on his desk as you sit in the adjacent seat. "I think we look damn good together."

Katsuki just glares at you as he silently agrees. He's silent as he ponders the meaning behind your words. It's been months since your confession, and any tension or awkwardness has dissipated and has become long-forgotten.

"Everyone should mind their own business," he mumbles, knocking your feet off his desk and swiping the magazine out of your hand. He tosses it in his drawer and slams it shut for good measure. When he looks back at you, you're smug and crossing your leg over the other.

"When were you going to tell me we were in a secret relationship?" Irritation builds in Katsuki's chest. Your teasing isn't helping the situation – if it can be considered a situation. "I would've gotten you flowers for our anniversary."

Katsuki scoffs and returns his focus to his desktop. "Flowers give me allergies. Plus, all the petals falling and shit, making a huge fucking mess."

"You're right," you concede with a sigh. "What would you accept as an anniversary gift, then?"

He doesn't answer right away, even though he already knows. "A limited edition All Might figurine." It earns him a soft laugh from you, and he sneaks a peek from the corner of his eye before your toothy smile fades.

"Don't you already have one of those?"

"They're collectibles."

"Obviously," you remark dryly.

Katsuki doesn't follow up with a rebuttal, and you fall silent, so he glances in your direction to catch you eyeing him with your leg bouncing and your fingers fidgeting in your lap. His stomach flips the most nauseating way as he realizes you're nervous.

"If you have something to say, spit it out," he barks, heat rising to his face. "Otherwise, you still have that report to write for the both of us."

"Yeah, yeah," you hum, waving your hand dismissively at the mention of work. "I have a new assignment, though. Haven't gotten a chance to tell you."

Katsuki remains silent as he waits for you to continue. His eyes narrow at your hesitation.

"The Committee is sending me on a mission in the States." You smile sheepishly, and it takes a moment to register in Katsuki's head.

"A mission? How long?"

"Eight weeks. I leave at the end of this week." You're obviously displeased with his reaction, scrunching your nose and frowning. "Thought you'd be happy for me."

2 months. You were being sent to one of the most dangerous places in the world for 2 months.

"How come I wasn't told about this mission?" He keeps his voice low, and it comes out as a growl. You look more exasperated at his attitude than his lack of an answer. "They're sending you alone?"

"No," you drawl, avoiding his heavy gaze. "They're sending Cellophane too."

Cellophane? If Katsuki wasn't angry before, he was now.

He shoots up from his seat, startling you before taking your wrist and pulling you up.

"Where are we going?" You hiss, stumbling to keep up with his long strides as he drags you to the building's staircase. With the elevators functioning perfectly, there shouldn't be any interruptions from the other patrons in the establishment.

"I get that you're pissed-" You start to say as he holds the door open for you to pass him, but he silences you with a hiss. "Did you just fucking hiss at me?"

"I'm your partner," he reminds you after the door closes behind him. Partners tell each other things. They communicate. Why didn't you tell him earlier? "I should be going with you on this mission. Why the hell are they sending Hanta?"

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. The platform is small, so you stand on the steps that make you eye level with him. "We volunteered for it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Katsuki tries to conceal his hurt, but it appears accusatory and bitter. "I would've volunteered with you if you wanted to do it so badly. I would've called you fucking crazy, but I would've done it." For you, his voice whispers in his head, and he rakes a hand through his hair.

"They wouldn't have sent you, anyways," you tell him, glaring at the wall and refusing to look at him. "You're a fan-favorite. You bring in too much money for them to send you to another country right now."

Katsuki barked out a laugh. "Like they wouldn't fucking jump at the chance to get-"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to go," you blurt over him, breathing heavily. You instantly reel back, pressing your knuckles between your brows. "I didn't- That came out wrong."

A plethora of questions and emotions flooded Katsuki. He wondered if he was a lousy partner, if you were tired of working with him, if recently everything had been one-sided – but deep down, he was offended. Why-

"Why not?"

"Because," you stressed, exasperated. "Because I need some space."

Katsuki frowns at that. "Space?"

"Yes, please understand."

Oh. Oh.

"No," he says to you, making you scoff. "I don't want space."

"That's not up to you."

"What about after the mission?" Katsuki presses, reaching out to grab your arm. "I don't want you to leave. You're trying to run away." The image of you standing from your seat and pulling away from him flashes through his head, and he has to shake his head.

"What's the alternative?" Your voice is quiet, but you sound miserable, and Katsuki knows it's his fault. He's spent months blissfully ignorant of your feelings under your professionalism, and he's been unfair.

"Have dinner with me." It slips through his lips quickly, and inviting you to eat with him feels natural. "When you get back."

"Oh, fuck off," you croak, pulling away from him, but his hold on you remains firm. "You're so fucking-"

"Listen to me," he demands, and his voice bounces off the walls. "I know I'll miss you when you leave for this mission. And I'll be waiting for you to come back and thinking about you the whole time you're gone."

"You're only saying this-"

"Dumbass, do I have to spell it out for you?" Katsuki practically screams in your face, shaking you gently. "I can't fucking focus on anything if I don't have you with me. So you have to come back."

You're quiet, and Katsuki's face is on fire. His heart's in his throat, and he briefly wonders if this was how you felt all those months ago.

"I like your stupid laugh," he confesses, squeezing your arm in a desperate attempt for you to believe him. "And when you smile at something I tell you. And I- I don't- Fuck. I'm sorry I've been an idiot, but please don't run away again. And if you don't fucking believe me, I'll prove it."

Katsuki breathes in relief when you finally, finally crack a smile. Soft laughter quickly follows it, and you place your hand over his.

"Alright," you say. "You've convinced me. You can stop embarrassing yourself now."

With a sudden rush of intense embarrassment, Katsuki drops his head in his hand and sighs heavily. As your laughter grows, his uneasiness subsides, and relief slowly washes over him.

He just confessed to you. And you're smiling gently, and you look equally relieved as you grip his hand, and Katsuki can't help but smile too.

"I'm only giving you two months," he warns you, leaning in closer to you and relishing how you respond alike. You raise your brow at that, the corner of your lips twitching upward.

"Or else, what?"

"I'll drag your ass back here from the States if I have to," he says, and a glowing smile blooms across your face.

1 year later

"I love you," Katsuki murmurs, watching you step away from the villain as officers take over the arrest.

"Whatever," you scoff, throwing a light punch to his arm. "Only because I did all the work."

"You must've hit your damn head or something because I did all the heavy lifting," he refutes, shoving you away as a newscaster approaches him.

"Dynamight! Dynamight, can you share how your relationship with your partner developed with our viewers? Does it cause any tension or conflict with your peers?"

You almost laugh at the sour expression that twists on Katsuki's face at mentioning other Pro-Heroes as his 'peers'. The reporter raises their microphone higher as Katsuki leans down to comment.

"Mind your own fucking business. Now, fuck off."

"You can't curse on the news, Dynamight," you chastise as he follows you in the opposite direction, leaving the reporter stunned in silence.

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" Katsuki grins widely, flashing his canines and swooping in for a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Alright, hotshot," you tease, pushing him away in your weak attempt to maintain professionalism. "You're not Number 1 on the charts yet."

He hums lowly in response, almost snarling as a warning to stop beating him down. "We got plans tonight with Ei and Pinky. Don't forget."

"Yes, yes, I know," you sigh, rolling your eyes. "You've reminded me five times already."

"Don't want you spoiling your appetite with your munchies."

"You're not coming back to the office with me?" You ask, noticing him staying back.

"Chargebolt's running late. I gotta cover for him for a few." Katsuki throws a thumb back with an irritated expression, but you have a slight feeling he's excited to get more patrol time. "I'll see you back at home."

Smiling, you nod and start to part ways, but you're pulled back before taking another step.

"The fuck are you going?" Amusement laces his tone, and you're laughing against his lips as Katsuki presses a dozen pecks against your lips. "Gotta say bye to me."

"Okay, goodbye," you strain, trying to escape him with the thought of being watched by civilians around you but failing to suppress your amusement. "You need to stop doing this. Let me go."

"I love you," he says to you. It's quiet and sincere, and you almost stop flailing in his arms at the sentiment.

"I know, Dynamight. I know. Now, let me go."

"Say it back." Katsuki glares at you through his mask, and you almost regret taking down his emotional barricades.

"Okay, but you need to fucking let me go." It annoys you to your wits end when Katsuki tilts his head so his ear faces you, and suddenly he's the most patient man.

"I love you too."

a/n: not my best work, but idc, had to give them a happy ending and i don't fuck with all the dramatics. with that said, hope you liked it enough

tags: @asrasmysoulmate @brunnetteiwik @katbug37 @alekssashka7 @sendnuwudes @mysideeffectsofyou @imdefgam @luvsown @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @hsxhype @chims-kookies @atsushiki @madsttx @soft-witchy @baby-snart @vampiresarezombies @geldg @punicorn999 @maryhatz @bluenightlight @when-you-are-just-done @aruste @majorapandahero @hp-hogwartsexpress @6423btw @poemzcheng @lilpothoscuttings @ushygushybaby @princess-angie-bakugo @cvltts @cloudydino @tdntu0 @awkwardaardvarkforever @rubymha @bougiebabe @arcorjoan @bustyredheadsworld @everyonehatescarmen @naturakaashi @farawayfromthesun @k0z3me

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x you

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distinguishedstudentfishalien · 3 months

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AHHH ok, let's talk about Lucifer and Alastor

I've been reading a lot of reactions to Hazbin: from the gushers who think the show is perfect to the hyper-critical who hate the show, the creator, and everything in between. I don't fall into any of those categories. I had a lot of fun watching it, but there were some things I liked, and some others I didn't. You know, as it's usually the case with any piece of media one interacts with.

I love reading other people's opinions. It makes me pay more attention to things I might have missed. BUT for Hazbin, most of the criticism I've seen boils down to two things: either "I, personally, didn't like it, so that means it's bad" which is not the hot take people seem to think it is, or just lack of media literacy.

I won't go over all the examples of that last point (there are plenty), but one example people are using to criticize the show --which I can't seem to get out of my head so now I have to write about it-- it's how out of left field it was for Alastor to think of himself as a father figure to Charlie.

My guys and guysettes, that's because he doesn't.

He does it to piss off Lucifer, because he doesn't like him. That's it.

"But they just met, why doesn't he like him?" I don't know! but let's go over some examples, shall we?

In the first episode, during Alastor's TV ad, we see a picture of the hotel, clearly drawn by him. I ask you to look to the bottom left where it says "No tacky circus decor! I promise"

Do we know what he is referring to? Sure we do! the ring circus master himself! Lucifer Morningstar, whose whole schtick is circus-related. Clearly, Alastor is not a fan.

When Lucifer arrives to the hotel, did anybody catch Alastor's first reaction? (besides calling him short to his face, ofc)

Do you see that trembling eye? He is PISSED. Why? Who the hell knows! But he clearly does not care for the King of Hell himself (if you force me to give you my opinion on this, I think it's because of Alastor's delusions of grandeur, and plain-ole narcissism, but that is a conversation for another post, if I ever gather enough energy to write it)

He introduces himself and immediately does this. R-U-D-E.

Now, let's talk about the song itself, which, again, is clearly just an attempt to piss off Lucifer and not really about Charlie. At all.

He only cares about Lucifer's reactions. Because he is not being HONEST. We can all see that? right?? I mean, it is pretty FREAKING obvious. He is just trying to get a rise out of Lucifer.

And now, the moment we were all waiting for, the infamous "call me dad" moment.

Which had nothing to do with Charlie, and it was just another example of Alastor being the most annoying bastard alive. He is not even looking at her! He is staring Lucifer dead in the eye and saying "piss off shortie".

Why? Again, I dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I hope we'll get the answer in season 2, because immediate animosity against the King of Hell himself is something I need some context for. Is it funny? Absolutely! I love that song! The violin solo? PURE GOLD (he he)

But for the love of Christ and the Antichrist, please stop thinking of "Alastor thinks of himself as Charlie's dad out of nowhere" as a valid criticism. As some have speculated, Alastor involvement with Charlie will probably have something to do with Alastor's deal and 7-year absence. If it's never explained, then sure, what the heck Vivzie?? please include it on the show!

There are PLENTY of things we could criticize about Hazbin (and people smarter and with more energy than me have done so already). But there are so many examples of "criticism" that are just examples of "I don't know how to interact with media anymore" and I beg of you to do better. This is a tiny example of the show showing and not telling, and some of y'all failed the comprehension test.

It is a fun show, guys. Enjoy it.

TL;DR: Alastor does not think he is Charlie's dad, ffs. He just wanted to piss off Lucifer.

#and NO #he is NOT jealous #I do not ship Alstor and Charlie #she has a girlfiend #he is an ace in the hole or whatever it is that Rosie said #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #my beloved #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie

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the-grey-hunt · 1 year

Text

last year i talked somewhat about jonathan harker in the role of the gothic heroine, which seemed to go over well! this year i've decided to challenge myself to delve a little deeper and keep my literary analysis skills sharp (trying to keep away from anything revealed later than today's entry, for the new readers)

for context in the literary background i'm examining here, the female gothic (a term coined I believe in the 70s) is a lens of analysis for gothic literature which examines the role of women as expression of contemporary anxieties around women and their roles in society, particularly as mothers and wives. like many kinds of horror, political and social anxieties are deployed as supernatural forces with which to terrify the "ordinary" citizens.

jonathan, our ordinary man, is certainly faced with horrors—but in what way? sent by an older man, Peter Hawkins, jonathan enters a foreign landscape where he enters into the power of another older man, at a particularly vulnerable time where a loved one (Mina) is waiting at home but jonathan does not appear to be married. the horrors that jonathan faces are the same trials set up against gothic heroines: threatening older men with power over you, poised at a huge point of transition in your life, etc, etc.

the main argument against jonathan as a heroine is, I think, his job. His transition point right now isn't an impending marriage or that he needs one, but that he's just established himself as a solicitor and is meeting with Dracula for business purposes. however, I think how these are deployed as tools in the story, such as Hawkins almost transferring guardianship of his young employee/ward to Dracula (temporarily), still very much mirror the ways in which high-class social norms are deployed against gothic women. even the work jonathan does in the castle (talking to dracula about real estate) isn't in service of bolstering his manly prowess, but serves as a tool for dracula to distract him, and keep him from realizing that he is trapped and serving dracula's own will.

rather than being tried in a manly fashion by his strength or his wits being challenged, jonathan's gothic experience is of his environment and even his body being manipulated by the man meant to be a helping hand in a foreign land. when I say body people might think it's a little early for that, but it's happening—dracula keeps jonathan up late so he sleeps in, forcing him to acclimate to dracula's own nocturnal existence. when he gets a glimpse of blood, he attempts to take it from jonathan. even today, a few hundred years after dracula's social anxieties about women's bodies being trespassed upon by men other than the ones entitled to them, women may see echoes of their own anxieties about bodily autonomy.

Dracula also isolates jonathan socially. He makes jonathan mistrust his own ability to percieve reality (gaslighting, anyone, a story about a woman being manipulated by her husband?) by pretending that servants are in charge of the cooking and so on, when really it's just dracula keeping up a masquerade.

this comes to a head in the mirror scene, where jonathan's shaving mirror—an item he uses to attend to his appearance—ends up being a helpful tool which exposes the supernatural reality of what jonathan's up against. however, because dracula is still the one in power, he immediately gets rid of it, calling it "vanity". I recall the quote by John Berger:

You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting Vanity, thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.

the ways in which jonathan is treated by dracula, and the ways in which he attempts to bolster himself against the threat (spying to see what dracula's really doing, seeing the lack of reflection by chance) mirror the highly gendered dynamics of the Victorian era which this book was written in the tail end of. perhaps purposefully subverting jonathan's gender as a further expression of the horror of dracula, stoker's work takes jonathan as a man secure in his position at home in england to being a manipulated, isolated, and precariously positioned figure subject to the whims of an abusive man while friendless in a foreign country

(and the essay on how race, ethnicity, and foreign versus home plays into this is a whole other post! racism effects gender too! it's not a mistake that jonathan is securely male at home but his gender is subverted abroad!)

#dracula daily #dracula #female gothic #jonathan harker #ok i have to stop myself here and do my actual homework

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 months

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Hello dear! i asked this once but it was as a chat response so asking here just in case it got lost, no hurries! Bookverse! Dandi and geralt, Geralt gets turned away at the brothel (again) and Dandi decides if no one is gonna treat his witcher like he deserves, he'll have to.

(plz ignore if this is not relevant to your interests!)

Pan, my dear. I know you sent this almost a year and a half ago. I ADORE getting prompts, but inspiration strikes when it strikes, the fickle ho.

Geralt x Dandelion. Rated Explicit. Bottom!Geralt (first time bottoming).

Geralt is turned away from a brothel, and Dandelion takes care of him. This is porn with feelings. Love and smut ahoy. 7k words(ish)

-----

The woman at the door whispered something in Dandelion’s ear.

In other circumstances, Geralt might have heard what she said. He was standing only a few feet behind the poet, and his witcher hearing was certainly capable of it. But he didn’t hear, because he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. His mind was occupied.

He and Dandelion had been drinking in a nearby tavern. When Dandelion suggested a brothel to relax him, Geralt happily trailed after him like a trusting pup. On the way, the witcher let his mind wander in and out of a series of increasingly vivid, sexually charged visions. He was already aroused and bristling with excess energy when they arrived at the door.

Dandelion tilted his head towards the girl. “Milady,” he responded, “why are you telling me this? Are you proud or something? Are you also proud when you get a canker on your ass? It’s a personal situation if you ask me.” He glanced back at Geralt for support, laughing haughtily. “It is lucky that my erection is more insistent than my convictions, and that I have already promised my friend an unforgettable night in your establishment which I am loathe to renege upon.”

Geralt was at a loss, trying to put together what was happening with context clues. He didn’t need to wait long. The woman looked desperately at Geralt and leaned closer towards the poet. “I said. Humans only.”

Geralt heard it that time. His stomach sank. He felt a familiar mix of humiliation and anger, which he promptly suffocated until he felt nothing. He tugged on Dandelion’s sleeve. “Come on, Dandelion.”

Dandelion ignored him. He threw his arms out. “And? We are men,” he said to the girl. He looked around melodramatically and declared a bit too loud, “I didn’t bring my horse to partake!”

The girl at the door nervously avoided Geralt’s gaze. “Master Dandelion,” she whispered strenuously, “the witcher cannot come in.”

Sometimes the ‘humans only’ rule applied to Geralt. Sometimes it didn’t. Clearly, at this place, it did. He tugged again on his friend’s sleeve, to no avail. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

To his frustration, Dandelion ignored him yet again. The poet drew himself up to full height and stuck his nose in the air. “I pity your lack of education, dear girl, but witchers are human beings. That is just a fact. But luckily for you, I am feeling generous. If you let us in right now, I will not alert your madam to this offensive gaffe.”

“Shut. Up. Dandelion,” gritted out Geralt. This time he grabbed the poet’s arm.

Dandelion yanked his arm free. He briefly glanced at Geralt. “Let me handle it. I understand these types.”

Geralt groaned and looked around desperately. A few men were wandering up the footpath towards them, customers, no doubt, who would be witnesses to the whole ordeal.

The madam appeared next to the girl at the door. She was an older woman in a lovely burgundy gown. Dandelion brightened and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, I am so happy to see you, my dear lady. I hope you can clear up this misunderstanding. My friend is 100% human, I assure you,” he glanced back at Geralt. “He was born to a woman, magic though she was, and a man. Well,” he corrected himself, “we don’t rightly know who his father is.”

Geralt cringed.

“But,” the poet lifted a finger, “if you required confirmed paternity for everyone in this establishment your building would be empty as a pair of testicles after they’ve had a run at the place. You’d be in the poor house by Thursday.” The poet was picking up steam. “Half the nobility in this town claim to be descendents of great emperors, but they were secretly sired by a particular beefy blacksmith who lives two doors down, or a certain wiry goatherd who is quite randy, and one count I know of personally,” he leaned in even closer, “was sired by an actual goat, I can tell you that story…”

“Master Dandelion,” the madam hissed through her teeth, “I would if I could, but it’s a party for the warden and half the security forces will be in tonight. I’ll be shut down! You can see he’s…different!”

“What?” yelped Dandelion. Turning and looking at Geralt, pretending to be gobsmacked, then returning to the madam. “Because of his mutations? Why, that’s sheer ignorance. Mutations are endemic to life itself. We’ve all got them!” He batted his unusually blue eyes. “Some find mine quite charming.”

The madam was not nervous like the door girl. She looked straight at Geralt, though she had the goodness to be apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt dragged Dandelion away successfully this time, but the troubadour did not go quietly. One of the men coming down the path caught his attention. “Duke Heyward has a third nipple!” He shouted over his shoulder. “That’s a mutation! Can’t have that! Better turn him away! Errant nipples might ruin the mood!”

The man steadfastly ignored him and bowed to the madam. He was granted entrance, nipples and all.

“They’re all such tiresome, small minded, unimpressive donkeys,” Dandelion seethed as they walked back to the tavern. “Count Vamonet can’t tell a sonnet from a scrotum. Prince Galino farts when he comes, and he has to pay the girls extra for it. And the Algloval family are a bunch of inbred--”

Geralt’s attention turned inward as Dandelion ranted about the wretched local nobility and their many failings. The witcher returned to his thoughts as they made their way through the streets.

These kinds of rants usually made him feel better, and it did, somewhat. But there was still that tension, that pent up frustration. He was still rock hard in his trousers.

“Pathetic, the lot of them. Pox on them all,” finished Dandelion, waving at dismissively at the air. He stole a look at Geralt. “You’re awfully quiet. You haven’t told me to shut up yet. Do you feel quite alright?”

Geralt sighed. “Fine. It’s fine.”

“Well, your face still looks sour.” Dandelion brightened. “Do you want me to see if Helen is interested? I can make myself scarce.”

That was the second time that night that he’d offered the same. “No!” Geralt almost shouted it. Dandelion stopped in the street. Geralt took a few steps before he realized it and he turned to face his friend.

Helen was the server girl at the tavern, who had set the night in motion. Dandelion first performed a set, then sat down, damp curls stuck to his forehead, open tunic flaunting the dusting of blonde hair on his chest. Helen, who he’d been winking at during his performance (along with every other person in the audience), informed him that she was off work, and plopped right down his lap. The poet happily spread his thighs to give her a better seat, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Geralt had been enjoying the evening, but at the sight of the two of them together, was seized by a growing frustration. Helen’s breasts spilled nearly out of her top and hovered near Dandelion’s face. His friend leered at them, lips so close to their gentle swell. She ever so delicately opened her legs under the table.

She wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt, and Geralt watched Dandelion’s hand creep up her thigh. Her cunt was probably hot and wet, just waiting for him to--

“Geralt?” Dandelion had abruptly asked, stopping what he was doing. “What is the matter?”

Helen looked up. When she saw Geralt’s expression, she visibly shrunk away.

“Oh pet,” Dandelion protested, turning his attention back to her, “he isn’t angry, please, that’s just his face. He’s a big pussy cat, really.”

Geralt, realizing he was scaring her, forced a smile. It only made matters worse. She scurried away.

Dandelion seemed to be conveniently forgetting that fact at this very moment. They faced one another on the dark street.

Helen is terrified of me, Geralt thought of saying. That was what Geralt meant to say. But something else came out of his mouth. “I don’t want you to make yourself scarce. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Dandelion looked surprised, and then intensely interested. He shoved his hands on his hips and looked down at where Geralt’s trousers strained to contain his cock. His tongue darted out and wet his lips before making eye contact with some effort. “Well. What do you want, Geralt?” He asked it casually, lightly. “There are other girls that don’t work in brothels. The night is young, yet. Tell me. What were you imagining for tonight? Talk to me.”

What were you imagining?

Geralt tried to remember the thoughts that excited him on the way to the brothel. Why had he been so very distracted that he’d missed the door girl’s whisper?

They were visions of pretty girls servicing Dandelion, right? Perhaps those visions should have been of the girls servicing him. But...Geralt stood, taking a moment to recall his fantasies. Well, pox on it. Fuck. The girls weren’t even in them.

It was all Dandelion sprawled out in bliss, with his trousers shoved down to his ankles. It was Dandelion with his head lolling back, eyes half lidded, lips open. It was Dandelion thrusting languid and whining up into welcoming lips.

Surely, he, Geralt of Rivia, didn’t want his friend that way. He didn’t think he was that kind of man. True, there had been youthful experimentation at Kaer Morhen, but it was all boys there, what else were they going to do? When he’d fallen for Yen, he thought....well he thought that was that. But now. Fuck. He was beginning to doubt.

Geralt looked into the quizzical eyes of his dearest friend. Then he turned on his heel and fled. He could hear Dandelion chuckling and calling out to him. “Geralt, come back! Blast it!”

But the witcher made a beeline to their shared room at the tavern. He was dressed for bed and under the covers with the candles out by the time Dandelion returned. Dandelion came in humming, carrying a lantern, and two glasses of wine.

“Good evening, Geralt.” Dandelion said loudly, shutting their door with a graceful tap of his heel. “I see you are already in bed for the evening.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say. “Helen wouldn’t have you?” He muttered bitterly. “She looked so eager.” But he dragged himself up to lean against the headboard. The covers fell around his waist, so he grabbed them and clutched them to his chest.

Dandelion set the lantern and glasses on the side table, and shrugged off his coat. He was still humming to himself. His lightness of spirit was slightly insulting, when Geralt was so obviously set on brooding.

The poet came to sit on the edge of the bed. Geralt’s heart raced as the mattress dipped and the warmth of Dandelion’s body filled his space.

It all felt different now, the shared room, the shared bed. All of it. The air crackled. The witcher was terrified. That was why his pulse was racing, right?

His friend sat in uncharacteristic silence for a few moments, contemplating the bedspread and then Geralt. After a moment, he spoke softly. “Geralt, those idiots were pricks to you tonight.”

His compassion caused a warmth to blossom in Geralt’s chest, but that was the kind of thing that makes a man lose control. So he shoved it down and avoided his friend’s eyes. “It’s fine.” “No, it’s not,” said Dandelion. “But well,” he smiled, still looking softer than usual, “you’ve always got me, and about a thousand other friends, to whom you are as ordinary and human as a person can be. Boring even. And the whores at that place are rubbish anyway.”

Geralt half smiled despite himself and looked up. “You said their advanced techniques would change my life.”

“I lied to make you feel better.”

Geralt gasped in sarcastic shock.

“You know,” said Dandelion. Now he was the one looking down. “I haven’t told you this yet Geralt. But I was once a harlot myself.”

Dandelion raised his eyes and for a brief moment, they looked into one another, trying to read what the other was feeling. The air between them was fragile, as though a wrong word could shatter whatever was changing between them.

Geralt wanted to be sensitive, but he was overcome with images of Dandelion naked and in compromising situations. It was the same images that had plagued him earlier in the day. “Did you... like it?”

It was the right thing to say, at least for now, because Dandelion relaxed. “I did.” He shrugged. “Most of the time anyway. Like any other job in that regard. I don’t want to brag,” he said, in his characteristic way that indicated he very much did want to brag, “but I was too popular. I got too successful. And I preferred to be famous for my music. So gradually, I-” he picked at the bedspread, “-stopped.”

“Too successful,” Geralt asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “Were there enough women to keep you busy?” he asked. “Seems like they wouldn’t have to pay for services.”

“You’d be surprised,” the poet answered. “They don’t pay you to fuck, Geralt. They pay you to leave without a fuss.”

Geralt nodded. He supposed that made sense.

Dandelion picked up his wine glass from the side table. He took a sip and swallowed primly with pursed lips. Geralt watched his throat bob with fascination. He realized that he was staring, so he picked up his glass to give himself something to do other than gape.

“But truth be told,” Dandelion’s voice lingered on the words casually, “my specialty was other men.”

Geralt should not have picked up his glass. It was a mistake. He was taking a sip the moment Dandelion said ‘men.' He coughed, and pounded his chest.

Dandelion chuckled richly. “Are you alright?”

His friend was laughing at him. Geralt was a mess of righteous indignation, hope, and desperate desire.

“‘M Fine,” he said, putting down the glass. He wanted to avoid his friend’s gaze, but that would be admitting defeat. He met Dandelion’s mirthful, predatory eyes. He immediately lost composure.

He was looking at the poet’s lips. His collarbone. The way his shirt was slightly transparent, and how every time the poet took a deep breath, his chest rose and Geralt could see his nipples.

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I am not,” mumbled Geralt defensively. “Witchers can’t blush.”

“Sure, my darling, if that is the story you prefer.��

It was the first time Dandelion had ever called him darling. He called him my dear all the time. Geralt loved it every time, but darling was just a little more...romantic.

Geralt had no idea what to do with his face, his hands, or his rebellious cock, which was every bit as hard as before.

“What are you thinking about Geralt?”

Why did Dandelion sound so blasted smug? The prick. Geralt’s fingers trembled, his pulse raced. He decided to just let his body speak for him, without thought. “If I came to your brothel. In those days.” He tried not to stammer, but he sounded halting. He decided to just push the words out. “Would you have serviced me? A mutant.”

He was staring at his own hands now. He almost jumped when Dandelion’s hand covered his own, warm and tender.

Geralt looked up, relaxing into the touch.

Dandelion looked amused, but fond. “That depends.”

He was toying with him, the fucking bastard.

“On what,” Geralt asked flatly.

“I’d ask to take a look at your cock.” His eyes sparkled. “To see if it is mutated of course.” He moved his hand to the side of the sheet and pinched, as if ready to pull it aside.

Geralt tried not to smile. A smile would be an admission that the charms of his friend had vanquished him yet again.

“Well, go on,” teased Dandelion. “Answer me. Will you let me inspect your prick to see if it is too mutated to fit in my mouth?”

“You’ve seen my cock,” Geralt grumbled, wriggling, trying to hide how the aforementioned anatomy twitched at the forthright, confident manner of his friend.

“Yes, but I don’t remember what it looked like,” said Dandelion with faux innocence that did not suit him. “I’ve only seen flashes. In and out of baths, that kind of thing. And of course, I have always been too gentlemanly to sneak a peek.”

“Liar.” Geralt bit his cheeks. He nodded at where Dandelion’s hand held the corner of the blanket. “Well, go ahead.”

Dandelion’s face broke into a shit eating grin. He took the edge of the sheets and pulled them aside. Geralt inhaled fast and held his breath. He had on a flimsy undergarment with an opening at the front. His excitement was extremely apparent.

Geralt wriggled a little again, repositioning himself. He felt utterly exposed. Why was it making him more aroused than he had ever remembered being in his life?

It was Dandelion’s reaction to his body. Geralt could smell lust, and the wave of it that came off his friend was so powerful, the witcher was instantly intoxicated by it. Furthermore, the poet was looking at him with such a ravenous expression that Geralt blinked. It called to mind a wolf staring at a cut of raw meat.

Geralt was used to being the hunter. He had never been the prey. A thrill ran through him the likes of which he had never experienced.

“Geralt.” The poet was suddenly earnest, tight, and controlled. The switch made Geralt dizzy. His friend pulled his hands back, and squeezed his own thighs.

“Yes?” Geralt rasped.

“I cannot restrain myself any longer.” His voice trembled. “If you want me to stop now, you’re going to have to throw me out on my neck”

Geralt tried to respond, but only an airy squeak of nothing came from his mouth. He tried again. “Good. Don’t. Don’t restrain yourself that is.”

“Fucking hell. Sweet Melitele’s milky tits.”

Dandelion scrambled to straddle Geralt’s lap. Eyes shining, he cradled the witcher’s face in his hands. Geralt’s arms, of their own accord, wrapped around the poet.

Dandelion kissed him with such ferocious tenderness, Geralt felt his eyes prickle. That ferocity...Dandelion had wanted to do this for a very long time. Maybe years. And the tenderness. Dandelion kissed him like he was the most fragile, precious creature in all of creation.

The thought that Dandelion might have been harboring a hidden love for him was a shocking revelation. But Geralt could not fully grasp it. Not when his body’s reaction to Dandelion’s tongue and his weight on Geralt’s lap was leading him to yet another shocking revelation.

“Dandelion,” he cleared his throat and tilted back just enough to leave a sliver of space between their lips as they panted.

“Yes, Geralt.”

“Am I...this kind of man?”

Dandelion threw his head back and laughed. It was a bit rude actually. He ground his hips ever so slightly on Geralt’s hard cock. Geralt made an aborted noise of pleasure.

“Oh, I quite think you are darling,” Dandelion said smugly. “Wait. Does that vex you?”

Once again, Geralt didn’t want to think. He just wanted to respond. “I don’t think so,” he said. Then he realized the truth. “No. Not a bit.”

“Ah, well then. Shall I proceed?”

“Please do.”

Dandelion slipped off of his lap. Geralt found it difficult to abide the loss of his body. “Wait.”

Dandelion’s response was muffled by his shirt slipping from his head. “Apologies, my dear, but I must make haste, in case you change your mind.”

His dearest friend was pulling off his clothing at a blinding rate, vibrating with an air of disbelief and excitement.

“I won’t change my mind.” After it came from Geralt’s mouth, he realized that it was true.

Dandelion flashed him another smile. “Still. I won’t take any chances.”

Dandelion was quickly naked and scrambled back onto the bed without much grace. “Hips up.”

Geralt lifted his hips. Dandelion stripped away Geralt’s underclothes. Then, they were naked together.

What shocked Geralt the most was that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He felt nothing but pleasure at the sight of Dandelion’s full erection, nestled in a puff of blonde curls. He felt nothing but excitement when the poet straddled him yet again, his solid but soft torso in Geralt’s grasp. The witcher groaned at an embarrassing volume when Dandelion wrapped his nimble fingers around his cock.

“May I, love?” Dandelion licked his lips.

Geralt’s heart almost stopped. “Say that again,” he whispered.

“May I....love?”

“Please. Yes. Anything.”

Dandelion scooted back and dragged his warm tongue up the entire length of Geralt’s erection, lingering on the tip, kissing it messily.

Geralt writhed. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Dandelion batted his lashes then sucked Geralt’s entire cock into his mouth. Geralt almost shouted, but managed to clap a hand over his mouth and turn it into another moan.

He wanted a release. He wanted to explode.

His mind may not have realized his feelings for his friend, but his body was certainly aware that this was something he’d been holding in for a very long time.

But Geralt didn’t just want to cum. He wanted to do it on his friend, in his friend, it didn’t matter how.

“Let me. I wanna.” He gasped. “Fuck.”

Dandelion looked at him with soft but hungry eyes as he bobbed on his cock. At the sight of the poet’s expression, the way he looked stuffed with Geralt’s cock, the witcher thought he would lose it. But his friend expertly stopped just before Geralt’s peak.

He toyed with the witcher like that for some time, bringing him to peak, then pulling away. As he did, he ran his hands all over Geralt’s body. He murmured sweet nothings to him.

“You’re so gorgeous like this love. Look at you. Oh, fuck you’re stunning. I can’t believe I get to look at you like this.”

Geralt melted. He melted into his mouth, he melted against the bed. He became a blubbering, begging mess of a man.

“Please, oh, please. Just let me. Just. Oh, fuck.”

Just when he thought he had reached the height of pleasure, Dandelion began to use his fingers.

“Spread your thighs, darling.”

Geralt thought to protest. He felt self conscious. But he had said that Dandelion could do anything, and he’d meant it. Allowing himself to act without overthinking it had gotten him here, so the strategy was clearly working.

He spread his legs obediently.

Geralt fell apart when Dandelion cupped him, caressed him, and massaged him firmly in places he’d never even seen.

Vaguely, he thought that the room next to them could probably hear him whining. If he were allowing himself to think about it, he might have been embarrassed. But he wasn’t.

When Dandelion returned his lips to his cock, he also grasped his shaft, moving both his hands and his mouth expertly, Geralt came. His body locked up and his moans were silent and airy. He covered Dandelion’s head with his hands and thrust into the eager lips of his dearest friend. He shoved and shoved until he released in a haze of animalistic desire.

Then he fell back, slackened and panting.

Dandelion kissed his softening cock. He licked up all of Geralt’s spend and made a show of swallowing it for him.

Geralt stroked Dandelion’s damp locks lazily. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed.”

Dandelion crawled into his arms, placing a sweaty kiss on Geralt’s temple. They were both damp, from sweat and tears. Geralt squeezed him tight, waiting for the thudding of his heart to subside.

“Fuck.”

When Dandelion’s erection brushed his thigh, Geralt wanted to kick himself. He had been so wrapped up in his own pleasure, he’d been selfish. He needed to make sure Dandelion got satisfaction as well.

“What can I--” the witcher stopped, realizing he had little idea what the fuck he was doing. What could he even offer? Back in Kaer Morhen in his teen years, there had mostly been furtive yanking and sucking in closets and dark dormitories. And here he was with a proper expert, a former professional. What skills did he really have? How did you fuck a man without hurting him? Shit, he couldn’t fuck anyone right now anyway. He leaned forward and kissed Dandelion. “What do you want, poet?” He figured that was a better question, instead of promising something he couldn’t deliver, at least not in a competent way.

Dandelion had a half smile, like he was up to something. “Well, since my wildest dreams are coming true today, I’m just going to ask for it.”

Geralt barked a laugh, and felt slightly, deliciously self conscious. “Alright. Spit it out.”

Dandelion leaned closer, kissed Geralt’s cheek, and whispered provocatively in his ear. As he did, he traced languid circles on Geralt’s chest and stomach. This, Geralt thought, was what made Dandelion so popular. That and the expert cock sucking.

“Witcher mine, I have been following behind you for years,” he murmured sensually. “And do you know what has always confounded me?”

“What?”

“Having to stare at your round, juicy looking, perfect peach and never being invited to fuck it.”

Well. Geralt hadn’t expected that. He’d never really thought of himself that way. As an object of such fervent desire.

“My. Ass?”

“Oh yes, love. You’d better believe it.” Dandelion’s eyes fluttered closed and he hummed in bliss, like one did after taking a big bite of a pastry fresh out of the oven. “The shapeliest ladies have nothing on your delicious plump looking posterior. Has no one told you?”

Dandelion had called him love again. Geralt was beginning to understand that every time Dandelion called him love, the witcher felt willing and able to scoop out his own organs and gift them to the poet if he so desired them.

"No."

“That is a tragic story indeed.” Dandelion ground his rock hard cock into Geralt’s thigh. “How someone with such a perfect ass has never been told about its charms.”

Geralt allowed himself a slightly smug smile and he squeezed Dandelion tighter. He kissed the side of the poet’s head and hummed into his hair. “Really? That good, huh?”

The poet growled and rolled his hips again. “Please, Geralt. Don’t make me beg.”

Well. Shit. Geralt’s heart beat faster. “I want to, but. I don’t. I’ve never.” Then he just blurted it out. “Does it hurt?”

Dandelion stopped what he was doing and rolled over, propping himself on arm. He looked absolutely gleeful. “You mean I would be the first? Me?”

Geralt looked away and flushed a bit. He hummed his assent.

Dandelion practically whooped. “I will be taking Geralt of Rivia’s virgin ass? Have I died? Is this heaven?” The poet caught himself. “I mean, of course, only if you want to.” He tried to sound sexy and soft again, but his leering smile looked ridiculous.

It was a pathetic effort, but it still pleased Geralt for some reason. He was doomed, wasn’t he?

“I’m not a virgin. Obviously.”

“Still. May I?”

“Just. Be careful. You will, right?”

Dandelion took one of Geralt's hands and nuzzled it. Managing to find gentle sincerity within himself, he said, “Of course I will, love. I will be gentle. I will be tender. I will make it so very lovely for you.”

Geralt nodded. “Alright. What do I do?” He felt a bit moronic asking, but he would feel worse if he did something wrong.

“Well, I was rewarded by the sight of your handsome face in ecstasy. Now, since for all I know, this could be my only chance, I would be honored to enjoy the sight of your perfect, round ass jiggling as I fuck it.”

Geralt swallowed. “So, I turn over?”

“If you please.” Dandelion scooted back on the bed, kneeling, watching rapturously as Geralt agreeably turned over. The witcher was rewarded with a low whistle. “Oh, yes. Sweet mother of mine, what a specimen of a posterior.” Geralt could feel Dandelion’s soft, strong hands gliding over his body and squeezing his ass. The effect, along with Dandelion’s evident enthusiasm made him prickle with pleasure.

“Shut up.”

“I will not. I am already writing the ballad as we speak.”

There was no use telling him to shut up again. Geralt closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of being caressed. His scars were particularly sensitive, and Dandelion was sliding his hands over every last bit of him.

“Hands and knees, my dear witcher.”

Geralt obediently rose onto hands and knees. Dandelion moaned, gravelly and wanton. Geralt could hear him stroking his own cock as he squeezed one cheek then the other. Experimentally, Geralt arch his back, and enjoyed the strangled groan-laugh behind him.

If he had felt exposed before, that was nothing compared to what he felt now. Now he felt completely, utterly vulnerable. And yet? His body buzzed with pleasure low in his abdomen.

Geralt could hear Dandelion shift. Then he felt a kiss, followed by a playful nibble the back of his thighs. Dandelion leaned away to reach for something.

“Relax, love.”

Geralt heard Dandelion remove his rings, and then he heard a tin of something open and close. Then Dandelion’s fingers were at his entrance, slippery and wet. Geralt shivered. He flinched.

“Shhhhh,” Dandelion quieted him and patted his haunch as though he were a skittish mare. Geralt relaxed.

“It’s alright,” cooed Dandelion. “The famous poet Dandelion will be your first. Think of the stories you will be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“You’re an idiot.” Geralt chuckled but his laugh turned into a drawn out ‘oooo’ as Dandelion entered him with a finger. “See, that’s nice isn’t it, Geralt?”

It took Geralt a moment to answer. It was a new feeling.

“Y-y-yes?” he said.

“Is that a question or an answer, my witcher?” Dandelion asked playfully. He slid further and Geralt released a sigh. His body wanted to scoot away, and shove backwards at the same time. But Geralt decided not to do either. He just held still and allowed himself to feel.

“Yes.” He answered breathily, but with more confidence that time.

Dandelion scooted closer. Geralt could feel the warmth and the softness of the hair on the poet’s legs as they pressed against his. How his friend managed to slip in a second finger at the angle, Geralt wasn’t sure. But the tightness, the fullness, made him whimper.

“Oh, that sound,” growled Dandelion. “I cannot wait another second, Geralt, my dear, I am going to fuck the sense out of you.”

He could hear slippery noises as Dandelion quickly slicked his own cock. The poet grasped him with one hand. Geralt stole a glance back and saw his friend’s ravenous, predatory face. He saw the blonde poet grasping the base of his cock, lining himself up. The tip of his tongue was stuck out, and he was lost completely in the moment.

Dandelion felt Geralt’s attention and he looked up. They locked eyes right as Dandelion pushed. Geralt whimpered and his body jerked, but Dandelion held his hips stock-still with surprisingly strong hands as he pressed inside with an excruciatingly slow gentleness. “Here you go, love. You can take this, can’t you?” he purred.

Geralt sensed that taunting Dandelion right now might yield some interesting results. “I won’t break. Fuck me already.”

Dandelion’s eyes ignited and he squeezed Geralt so hard, he knew he would be bruised. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. Fucking do it already.”

It was daring talk for an amateur, Geralt knew. But he had stopped thinking. He was just spouting off now.

Dandelion bent over him and wrapped his arm around his hips like a vise and thrust. Geralt could tell his friend was still holding back, but the motion made him feel such shocking fullness, that it chased all rational thought away, emptying his mind.

Dandelion pulled back then. Right when Geralt thought he would slip away, Dandelion thrust again. Geralt marveled at how tight he could feel, the sounds the poet could punch from his throat. The sounds were cut off every time Dandelion’s hips made impact, but grew louder and more frantic with every stroke.

Dandelion’s hair brushed his back. He could feel his friend’s lips by his ear. “You love it, don’t you. Your ass is the perfect vessel for my cock, isn't it?” he whispered, his necklaces slightly grazing Geralt’s shoulder blades. The poet was beginning to sweat and his chest dragged down Geralt’s back.

Geralt nodded. It was difficult to manage while bouncing on another man’s cock.

“Say it,” Dandelion challenged him.

“Yes. I’m yours.”

Dandelion tenderly brushed Geralt’s hair away from his neck, and kissed the back of his neck as he fucked into him.

As the witcher’s body became more lax and able to accept the intrusion, Dandelion thrust with more power. Geralt had to brace himself against the wall to keep from slapping into it.

Dandelion was no longer treating him with kid gloves. Geralt had no idea that his body would allow anything inside that deep. He bounced and shook and cried out. He felt like some kind of rag doll.

“Dandelion,” he whispered into the dark.

“Say that again,” came the response from behind him.

“Dandelion.”

Dandelion’s pace grew more furious and punishing. Geralt was shocked by what his body could take. Dandelion began to sound like him, grunting, and moaning.

But right when he thought Dandelion would peak, he stopped and pulled out.

“Don’t stop,” Geralt begged. He writhed and reached back, grasping to pull his lover back.

“Be still,” Dandelion chided.

Geralt obeyed. He quieted himself and became still, waiting on hands and knees. His thighs trembled. His hair stuck to his sweaty, sticky body.

Just when he was ready to ask Dandelion what the fuck he was doing, he felt the poet grasp both sides of his ass and part him. The cool air caressed Geralt on his sensitive skin and he shivered.

Dandelion swore a filthy oath in several different languages, only some of which Geralt understood.

“I’m going to watch myself cum in you, witcher.”

Dandelion leaned forward and pushed down on Geralt’s back. The witcher wasn’t sure what the poet wanted, until his elbows buckled and his face was smashed against the pillow.

Dandelion hummed, ever so pleased with himself. He whistled. “That’s better. What a view.” He grasped the witcher, trapping his hips.

Geralt closed his eyes, determined to feel everything, to remember everything. The fat head of his dearest friend’s cock nudged him. By now, Geralt was fucked, slick, and ready.

Now it was the poet’s turn to whine like an animal when he slid inside Geralt.

“Look at you, swallowing my cock. You were made for me to fuck.”

The pillow under Geralt’s face grew damp, and he groaned into it as Dandelion took his pleasure.

The poet shoved as deeply as he could when he came, and the sound he made was cathartic. He held Geralt still, draped over his back, as he rode out his pulsing orgasm.

“Oh, Geralt. My darling.” He whispered it so quietly into Geralt’s back, that if Geralt were not a witcher, he might not have heard it.

Dandelion collapsed next to Geralt and pulled him close. They held each other in the dark, by the flickering lamp. They lay intertwined, clinging to each other, allowing the enormity of what they had done to settle over them.

What if everything changed.

What if nothing changed?

“Geralt?” Dandelion’s voice was surprising small. “Kiss me?”

Geralt ran his fingers through Dandelion’s hair. And he kissed him.

They would start there.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #dandelion #gerlion #geraskier #book!verse though #these are book boys #descarada writes

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elinoracia · 1 year

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🐍 Your voice // Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader fanfic🐍

Warnings: Jealousy, pure fluff, a kiss, not proofread. Total of words: 1.9k

Important informations: - All characters are aged up to 18 y.o. or more; 7th year. - Y/N = your name - My first language isn't english, sorry in advance.

Context: After 5th year, your friendship with Sebastian was not the same. You reconciled your relationship at the end of 6th year but, in the meantime, you got closer to Ominis who never gave up on you. He was always there for you when you needed to talk about anything. It seems like Ominis has a soft spot for you. Even during 5th year, he always seemed to be on your side and you could convince him pretty easily. Now that you and Ominis are finally friends again with Sebastian, his demeanor has changed around you.

---------------------

You were walking with Ominis to your first class of the day. As you were walking, you were asking yourself many things about Ominis. You never truly realized it before but... how could he know if you were attractive or not? Would it bother him if you were ugly? It seemed silly to ask him those kind of things but you felt a wave of curiosity taking over your brain.

Y/N: Ominis? Can I ask you something? *you look at him, curious to know his answer to your questions* Ominis: *He turns to face her, his expression curious* What is the question, Y/N? You know I'll always listen. Y/N: Well...how would you know...a girl is attractive? *you frown* Would you like...try to feel her face or something? *you chuckle at your silly idea* Ominis: *He chuckles* I'm surprised you are able to ask yourself such silly questions this early in the morning. Usually, you don't say much thoughtful things until our second class. *he seemed amused by your thoughts* Y/N: Now you're just being rude. *you giggle at his teasing* But really, how? *you stare at him intensely, waiting for his answer* Ominis: Well, that isn't how blindness works. When you take away someone's eyesight, their other senses strengthen and allow them to navigate the world in new ways. So... I might not have the benefit of your sight, but I have better hearing, a keener sense of touch... and a better sense of smell than most. I find beauty in a woman's perfume, but also in the way she talks, in the sound of a laugh when she's happy, or her smile when she's amused. Y/N: *you look at him, lost in your own thoughts* I think I understand… *the question to ask him if he finds you attractive burns your lips* it's…it's really romantic in a way, don't you think? Ominis: I'm guessing it can be considered romantic, indeed.

You both arrive in your first class of the day and, as the class begins, you can't seem to focus on anything else. Ominis seemed to have become aware of your unusual lack of concentration. After you first class, he came to you to figure out what was wrong.

Ominis: You looked unfocused during our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It's unusual for you to not pay any attention. Is everything alright? *he looked rather worried* Y/N: Oh, really? *you look away to avoid his gaze, even if he can't see you* Well...I was wondering something. I know it might sound really silly but... *you take a deep breath before blurting out the question that was troubling you* Do you...find me attractive? *you could hear the shakiness in your voice* Ominis: Is that the reason why your mind seemed elsewhere? *he chuckles at your question* Well... *he pauses to think for a moment* I would be lying if I said I didn't find the way you speak adorable. You have a unique cadence, a certain kindness and warmth about you, when you talk. I find the prospect of touching your face, your hair, your hands, a rather tempting one. *he said with a teasing tone to his voice* Y/N: *for once, you were glad Ominis couldn't see you because you felt your cheeks burning up* I-I see... *you didn't know what to answer, you just sighed and smiled* Ominis: Is that not the answer you were hoping for? Y/N: What? Oh don't worry, you answered perfectly! *you looked away, embarrassed and blushing* My next class is with Sebastian, I should go join him for herbology! I'll see you later.

You didn't let Ominis respond and you hurried to the Greenhouses. Sebastian was waiting for you next to the classroom. He greeted you and you tried this time to focus on the class Professor Garlick was teaching. But you kept wondering why Ominis seemed so distant when you were trying to hint your feelings for him. Does he just not like you that way?

After class, you tried to talk to Sebastian about it. You both had an hour before your next class started so you took the opportunity to talk to him about Ominis. Sebastian was already aware of your feelings towards Ominis but you made him swear to never talk about it to anyone else.

As you're talking about it to your best friend, he doesn't seem to give you the answers you were hoping for.

Y/N: Sebby come on! You must know something! *you beg him to tell you how Ominis really feels about you* Sebastian: Sorry but I really don't know. He doesn't talk much about his feelings to me. *he puts his hand on your shoulder to comfort you* Don't worry sweetheart, you just have to be yourself and be more obvious about it. He's a man and he's also blind so, you didn't pick the easiest person to fall in love with. *he laughs* Y/N: *you laugh* How could I be more obvious? Should I just say- *you take Sebastian's hands in yours to pretend you're talking to Ominis* Oh how I love you, please love me back! *you say dramatically, imagining in a theatrical and exaggerated way how you should announce your feelings to Ominis* Sebastian: Now you're just being a dork. *he laughs at your theatrics, his hands still in yours*

Suddenly, you feel a presence next to you. When Sebastian noticed, he let go of your hands quickly and cleared his throat. You also looked who was interrupting your conversation.

Ominis: I apologize, am I interrupting something? *he asked with a emotionless face* Y/N: *you panick at the idea of what the situation with Sebastian might have looked like* N-No! Not at all! We were...We were just talking about something that happened during herbology! Right Sebastian? Sebastian: Y-Yes! *he follows your idea without hesitation* Ominis: Anyway, I was here to talk to you Y/N. I realized that I might have been too forward when you asked me if I found you attractive. A compliment is one thing, but I realize now that I may have overstepped. Y/N: *you look at him, you feel your heart shatters in your chest. Why couldn't he just understand how you felt?* Oh...Don't worry, you weren't too forward. Thank you for your concerns though. Sebastian: *he looks at you with a worried look on his face. He knows exactly how this made you feel. He then turns to Ominis* Maybe she was just flustered by your compliment! *he chuckles, trying to make you feel better* It's not everyday a pretty lady asks you to tell her what you think about her. *he smirks and looks back at you with a comforting look on his face* Ominis: *he frowned at Sebastian's comment, he looked a little mad* Maybe you should give your "pretty lady" more compliments yourself. *he then looked away, almost shocked by what he just said* Anyway, I have to attend my next class. Have a good day.

You and Sebastian looked at eachother as you were standing there, in disbelief. As Ominis left, you almost felt guilty. Maybe you said something wrong. Why was he suddenly so angry?

--------------------------

You spent the rest of the day thinking about what happened with Ominis and Sebastian earlier. You haven't seen him at lunch, where you usually eat with him.

You then spotted him in a hallway. He was alone. You hurried to try and talk to him. You had to apologize.

Y/N: Hi Ominis... *you said with hesitation* Can we talk? I really don't like when you're mad at me... *you could hear the pain in your voice* Ominis: Y/N... *he seems hesitant to speak* I am not mad at you. Please don't think you did something wrong. Y/N: Then why did you ignore me all day? Why are you acting like that? Why did you get mad at Sebastian? *you looked at him, confused* Ominis: *he pauses to think* I just needed time to think. I needed to be alone for a short while. I don't...I don't feel like myself those last few days. *he takes a deep breath* But don't worry, I'm happy for you and Sebastian.

You froze. You couldn't even breathe for a moment. You made him think you were in love with Sebastian. And when he interrupted your conversation with him, he thought you were probably confessing to him.

Y/N: Me and Sebastian? *you asked, shocked* We are just friends! He's...he's just my best friend. What you might have heard was a complete misunderstanding! *you couldn't believe he was thinking you liked Sebastian that way. This just made your situation worse* You have to believe me! Ominis: *he frowns, not understanding the situation* I don't think I understand. Are you not in love with him? Y/N: With Sebastian? Not at all! He's really just my best friend, nothing more! *you look at him, hoping he would understand* Ominis: Then I just misinterpreted your intentions about him. I'm sorry Y/N. *he said calmly* Y/N: So, why are you so distant with me? *you asked, worried* Ominis: *he hears your shaky voice and then puts his hand on the top of your head in a comforting way* I'm terribly sorry if I made you upset. I was simply trying to not come between you and Sebastian. I did not want to say or do something inapropriate because- *he pauses, questionning if he should continue talking* Y/N: Because what? *you look at him, your heart is racing. You should tell him how you feel about him right now* I...I don't like Sebastian. I like you. I was just asking him about you. Ominis: *he froze, not knowing what to say* Y/N...You really made my heart race when you asked me if I found you attractive. I tried my best to not...let my heart speak for me. But I was afraid your heart was already taken. *he takes your hand and pulls you closer* I could follow your voice for the rest of my life. Sometimes I need more than your voice... You have to most angelic presence I've ever felt. Knowing you were probably in love with Sebastian hurt too much, that's why I was being distant. But I like you too. I love you. I always have. Y/N: *you look at him, blushing with a huge smile on your face* I can give you more... *you cups his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. He returns your kiss passionately, like he was hungry for more* Ominis: *he gently pulls away from the kiss* I've never wanted to see you more than I do now... Y/N: Well, my offer still stands. *you chuckles* You can feel my face if you want! *you say proudly* Ominis: Now you're being silly again. *he chuckles*

The End

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis x oc #ominis x y/n

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youthereader · 7 months

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Near Zero part 1.

pairing: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

summary: 2.8k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

rating: eventually E (no smut in this part); age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism

a/n: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. This is my first reader fic ever, so please be kind! Many thanks to @indulgence-be-thy-name for encouraging me and helping iron out wrinkled ideas.

part 2. 3.* 4. 5. 6.* 7.*

When you see him now, he’s so different to the last time, but he’s unmistakably the same man. Now, he wears a broad hat and carries a pipe as he approaches you in the empty room.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” he says, and his smile opens him up completely.

He extends a hand as you rise to meet him. Your things are being sorted thoroughly somewhere out back, but you still hold onto your coat and matching pocketbook. Los Alamos feels like another world, so remote that you hadn’t expected the town to be built here, with roads and people swarming. It is a living, breathing thing you’ve somehow managed to stumble into, it feels.

“Dr. Oppenheimer,” you reply, shaking his hand. “I didn’t know if you were meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss it,” he replies, though he sounds distracted. “What do you know?”

Hardly any pleasantries, which you expected. In the years of knowing him, Dr. Oppenheimer didn’t get to know you as your professor, and certainly not as anything else outside of the classroom. You had not subscribed to the Cult of Oppie, and not necessarily out of choice.

Though there were women studying theoretical and experimental physics, they were few and far between. Since leaving high school, you had understood that to be taken seriously, you could not act like a man. The few friends you had in high school often teased you about your lack of grace, your ability to be covered in chalk dust at any given time, and your unwavering standoffish nature.

You belong in a think tank, not on a podium proclaiming these theories. You could work in a team, which was why you supposed your name came up for this.

“My country needs me,” you reply.

He smiles again, somewhat smaller. His eyes survey you a beat longer and you swallow, picturing your hair windswept and unruly from the train journey. You might smell of sweat, you hadn’t showered since yesterday and came straight here when you let yourself known to security.

“And your country will be glad to have you. Have a seat.”

He gestures to a desk and chair, waiting for you to sit. The silence stretches and you feel his eyes on you. You’re wearing your best dress and your nails match your lipstick. Though you were given little context about being summoned here, it felt like a job interview from the telegram you received a few days ago.

The last time he saw you, you dressed like someone that didn’t care about making a good impression.

To stamp down any nerves, you pluck your cigarettes case from your pocketbook, fishing one out. A lit match appears as you put a cigarette between your lips, Dr. Oppenheimer’s hand cupping the flame as you lean in.

“Mm, thank you,” you murmur. You exhale, watching as he pulls back, extinguishing it with a short puff of air.

He stares down at the burnt-out match for a couple seconds before he looks back at you again, his brows furrowing.

“This opportunity means reaching beyond what we have before scientifically,” he says, and you take another pull from your cigarette.

You speak around your smoke. “This is to do with Nazi weapons, isn’t it.”

“They split the atom,” he replies, and you nod. “And since you’re here, it means you’ve been cleared to be part of our great endeavour.”

The ‘our’ would be ‘his’ to a lot of people. You know better, having seen the hundreds of people outside.

“I need like-minded people,” he says.

You rub the tip of your thumb and forefinger together absently, frowning. You were the first to admit that you had very little in your life besides your work, and that hadn’t been plentiful since war broke out. Belatedly, it occurs to you that he’s referring to your intelligence.

“What could I contribute? I wasn’t one of your best.”

“You were,” he amends, lowering his voice a little. “You just didn’t participate outside of a school building. You were invited.”

Your eyes swing to meet his and you recall that Oppie reputation, that he was a womanizer underneath the genius. It never meant to be aimed towards you, that charm. Or so you assumed.

“I’m not the type to enjoy crowds,” you reply. “It’s a character flaw of mine.”

You were speaking just like your parents, the ones that had not encouraged you to pursue academia. Being a homemaker, someone with a reliable husband was what they wanted for you.

“Would you have come, if I asked you to, personally?” he asks.

His question throws you, and you stammer out: “N-now, or back then?”

“I asked for you both times,” he says.

For the first time, you blush. Hoping he ignores this, you smoke some more to clear your head. You had almost forgotten about his ability to make you flustered.

“If you asked me to come to a class party personally, I would have said yes,” you admit.

You dare to glance his way again, stomach flipping. So much for being a more polished version of yourself, you’re back to being mousey and strange under those intense eyes.

“That’s a pity,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

In the days and weeks to follow, it’s quickly made clear that there’s no leaving Los Alamos. Your residence is between a series of identical houses. The house itself is barely larger than your living quarters you remember from college. A cramped bedroom, a washroom, and a kitchenette. Nowhere to entertain to speak of, but it was still a privilege to have your own space. Your neighbors to your left are a young family of three, and to your right, there are two secretaries related to fellow scientists.

You keep to yourself. You opt for a long letter to your parents explaining very little about the new role here. You’re certain your letters are read by someone along the way for obvious reasons, and explaining it all tires you anyway.

Being a part of something as insular as this takes some adjusting to say the least. There is no escaping without being noticed, as there are guards all over. You overhear town gossip without meaning to; the tiny bubble you circle over and over is both thrilling and stifling. Everything feels pressurized in those first couple days in your new home especially. You sit on your new bed with your hands in your lap, cigarette perpetually lit in times like these.

You leave early the morning you’re expected in the department, unable to delay the inevitable any longer. You’re not the only one with this drive, walking into the main laboratory (a wide room with desks in rows with a blackboard at the back) to find several men already seated, chatting with one another.

You pause, waiting as their attention diverts to you. You recognize a few of them from professional acquaintance, whereas others you’ve only known by reputation. The air shifts, and you feel very out of place.

“Good morning,” you say, voice soft, controlled.

You wish to be invisible, which was why your clothes were far demurer than what you arrived in earlier that week. Admittedly, you did agonize over your hair for perhaps longer than necessary, but you’re glad you haven’t done childish braids or nothing at all. There’s a fine line to tread with these men; being attractive but not ostentatious is usually the aim. From what you’ve learned over the years, not caring about your appearance tends to backfire in terms of being taken seriously.

You don’t agree with any of this, of course. No-one should be judged on their appearance in terms of their intelligence or whether they’re worth listening to. Unfortunately, this is just the game you must play, especially in academia.

Your eyes catch various reactions, some eyes lighting up with recognition, others perplexed. Some might not have seen you in years and don’t remember you at all, which is fair. You never strove to be known; your work is what mattered.

A couple men come forward to shake your hand, pleased to see you. You ignore the way a few pairs of eyes dip to your exposed ankles. You’re scanned and assessed, and whether you’re found wanting is forgotten, for you feel the touch of someone’s hand on your arm and turn your head towards the source.

“Oppie. Back in one piece!” someone calls out.

You stare at the side of Dr. Oppenheimer’s face, your arm burning from where he touched you to slip past. Had he been that close behind you on your way there? You don’t think you could have missed him, though you were preoccupied with your thoughts.

“Yes. Well rested and ready to get back to work,” he replies, striding towards the front.

He doesn’t look your way, doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, which is fine. It’s not out of the ordinary, and so you sit down on the edge of the group, ankles together under your desk.

“Oppie the Rancher, I don’t see it.”

You can. His hat reminds you of a frontiersman. You can picture him staring out across the desert on his horse, reins in hand.

“A night under the stars can do wonders for your mind, Richard,” Oppenheimer retorts, pointing with his pipe. “You should try it sometime.”

The men banter and you sink into your observer role with ease. At least they’re not acting that differently with a woman present. As more people fill the room, you relax into your chair with your notebook and pen at the ready.

You stand as Dr. Bethe enters, shaking his hand. You will report to him, the head of the theoretical division. Once he takes a seat, the noise dissipates, and Oppenheimer launches into the meeting.

You will have to play catch-up for some time, but it’s not altogether intimidating. You know you can dedicate all your time to this, since you have no family staying here.

Days are spent with your head full of equations. You drink cups of drip coffee over and over, and ashtrays are filled and emptied. You are among a team of theorists assigned to a specific task by Bethe, whose own intellect is dedicated to your cause.

The goal is to solve the issue of nitrogen fusing into magnesium, or, to understand the probability of the nitrogen atoms fusing. There isn’t data on this, and so you must calculate for this occurring every time a fission bomb would detonate. Every time, there is a chance that the bomb would cause a chain reaction.

You write out the calculations like everyone else, and each conclusion is the same. There is a chance that the atmosphere itself may ignite.

Everyone else begs for rest, but your mind won’t give you relief. You chain smoke, standing in front of the blackboard with your chalk aloft, as the world darkens around you. You ignore your rumbling stomach, finishing the calculation again with a short sigh. Stepping back, you hear:

“What are you doing here?”

You turn your head to see Oppenheimer standing by the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your face, his hat in his hand. He walks over, glancing at the board behind you.

“It’s the same,” he says, eyes darting left to right.

“I’ve done this ten times,” you murmur. “Theory always leaves near zero chance of catastrophe.”

“Near zero,” he repeats, pulling in a breath. “Yes, I know.”

The weight of this is as much a reality to you as a theory, since this isn’t a classroom back in California, but a laboratory equipped with hundreds of scientific minds all working to build the same weapon. There are marbles representing very real plutonium in the fishbowl six feet away from you.

“I don’t wish to be an alarmist,” you add.

He looks at you again, eyes dipping to your mouth, and you feel a stir beneath your navel. To your surprise, he gives a small smile, but it’s not condescending. You’ve seen him give those out plenty before but have yet to receive one yourself.

“Your fears are valid, though not entirely necessary,” he murmurs. “I just got back from Michigan. I left in a panic about theory. But theory can only take you so far.”

You recall not seeing him for a couple days, though you are prone to missing others when you’re stuck in your own head. Oppenheimer is the exception, always.

He moves to lean against the desk beside you and you follow him, perching yourself at the edge as he looks down at his hat.

“I needed to speak to Compton about the potential chain reaction, of course there’s no possibility of speaking about it on the telephone-”

“So, you took a train all the way to see him?” you ask, and he nods. “But now you seem calm.”

“Not calm,” he says, though his voice is level. “More understanding that there’s a 3-in-a-million chance of total apocalypse.”

Those chances, though conceptually low, are not non-existent. You watch as he glances up at you once more, the air leaving the room. His eyes implore you.

“Near zero.”

“Near zero,” he echoes, his voice a near whisper. He places his hat back on his head.

You push off the desk and pick up the eraser, beginning to wipe the board clean of your calculations. When you finish, you look over at him again, frowning.

“If you’re more understanding, why are you here?”

It’s possible he didn’t go home because he needed to work this all out, like you. He keeps staring back at you, intimidating you as always, causing heat to rise at the back of your neck. In the low light, you hope it’s undetectable.

“The light was on. I saw you through the window.”

You swallow, ducking your head. “Oh.”

You place the eraser back on the ledge, and the space between you seems to shrink though neither of you move. You might be imagining the way he takes you in. He’s the director, and he has valid concerns for his staff.

But you’re no fool. His gaze is too familiar, especially when he nods at you, saying:

“Grab your things. I’ll work you out.”

You obey, following him out, switching off the light along the way. As you walk together down the halls, your footsteps echoing, you smell him beside you. He is tobacco, and body odour. Nothing sharp or unpleasant, but intimate, a semi-sweet musk. You smell the dust on his jacket and think of him sitting astride his horse with that thousand-yard stare.

You exit the building with nods to the guards, bringing you back to the present. You don’t want to leave him there in the street, but his residence is nowhere near yours as far as you know. You think of his wife, not for the first time, and wonder what he tells her about what they’re doing here.

“I’m this way,” you murmur.

Oppenheimer doesn’t respond how you expect, walking beside you for a few minutes instead of leaving you to find your way home alone. The silence between you in companionable, not strained, which feels like a miracle to you. From memory, he has never been someone you had a poor encounter with. It feels like a fluke, but statistically, it makes sense.

Your head still reels with equations, probabilities, and dire consequences. The chances of sleeping are so low, but you still wish him goodnight when you arrive at your residence.

There are people in the street, some glancing your way, seeing him and wave. He lifts a hand but doesn’t greet them further. He waits, watching you try to figure out how to leave him.

“Try to sleep.”

“I don’t know how likely that is,” you admit, turning back to him.

His hands are on his hips, and he smiles knowingly.

“I need you sharp tomorrow.”

You stand so close to one another now that his voice is low, the intimacy of the moment spreading over you.

“You’re no longer Sisyphus, you can rest.”

You think about pointing out the hypocrisy of this. You doubt he finds it easy to sleep at night, under the stars or otherwise.

“I think it’s more like the incy wincy spider,” you say, emboldened by his proximity to you. “Not quite as tragic.”

He chuckles and you smile back at him. He steps back, nodding a little. “Have a good night.”

He waits for you to go to your door, and you open it, glancing back at him for a moment. His smile returns, an understanding shade to his eyes.

“Remember the sun comes out again,” he calls.

He takes off, and you shut the front door behind you, leaning your forehead against it as you exhale.

Thank you for reading! 🖤 Likes, reblogs and replies are always appreciated and genuinely motivate me. 🥺

#oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #fem reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #near zero

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kasuria · 9 months

Text

While watching the original Japanese scene of Joshua/Neku at Udugawa, I noticed something interesting that changed the entire tone of the conversation.

Since I can't speak Japanese (I was using a translating app), I went to my friend who actually speaks the language--and not only did she confirm my suspicions, but was also nice enough to translate the entire conversation for me (thank you @hunterxhell!) I also want to just make a quick disclaimer that I don’t entirely blame the localizers for this mistranslation, and I’ll go into why at the end. For now, I’ll post the original Japanese screenshots with their translations in the captions. I won’t be posting the English screenshots.

Joshua: Thank you for your hard work. Neku: The one who forced me into Shinjuku… was it you? Joshua: Don’t say it like that. Joshua: I /evacuated/ you.

Joshua: On that day three years ago, I was worried about letting that Reaper who shot you do as she liked. Neku: Even if you’re telling the truth, that wasn’t your only motive, right? Joshua: Hehe. Did you enjoy solving the mystery?

Joshua: I also wanted you to bring back information for me. Neku: It was hard. Joshua: Sorry about that, but I knew I could entrust this to no one but you. Neku: Is that so…

Basically, what was translated in the English localization as “I sent you to Shinjuku because I didn’t trust you not to keep my secrets” is actually, “Because I trust you more than anyone else, I sent you to Shinjuku to do this task for me.”

I don’t blame the localizers for this mistranslation—Japanese is hard, and so much of translating the language comes from surrounding context due to sentences often lacking subjects. When looking at this conversation as an isolated scene, it makes sense that Joshua ambiguously talking about Neku handling information for Joshua’s sake could be interpreted as Neku keeping said information to himself.

Since there’s no other mention in game of Neku’s purpose in Shinjuku being to gather information, there’s no reason for the localizers to assume anything different. It’s not without knowing the larger context, that this is an old piece of lore/information that was much more important when the sequel for TWEWY was going to be a completely different game, that the conversation Joshua and Neku have here starts to make more sense.

The rest of the conversation plays out the same: Joshua says that he was worried Kubo might have been too much to handle, and that he had planned to step in if needed. Neku then expresses his wish to go back to the RG, and Joshua makes a comment about him instead staying as a Composer candidate. Neku dismisses him, and Joshua laughs it off before saying that he’ll take responsibility and make things right. The most notable change is Joshua saying in English, “Let’s not keep her waiting any longer” when in the original he says, “Is there someone you want to meet with?” But since the implied “someone” is Shiki, I don’t think it’s a wrong translation and still gets the same point across.

And that’s it! While I understand the mistranslation, it’s too bad this little exchange wasn’t properly localized. Irregardless, it’s heartwarming to know that even now, the trust between these two is limitless.

#joshneku #twewy #the world ends with you #neku sakuraba #joshua kiryu #this is from twitter but i wanted to share/archive it here

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blues824 · 1 year

Note

Imagen the dorm leaders body swapping with there female demon slayer s/o for a week because of crowley not doing his job .

🦩🌹Like riddle and his mitsuri s/o

Him having to get used to his s/o strength and appetite. Imagine a lovable riddle smiling and a yelling mitsuri about the 810 rules.

🦁😐Leona and his giyuu s/o

Him feeling so frustrated and more sleepy than ever because his s/o body has a natural alarm clock for midnight to fight demons and isn't made for naps .and his s/o being just giyuu imagine cheka coming over and now his *uncle "is willing to play with him instead of sleeping (aperntly giyuu loves children ) .

🐙✨Azul and and his tengen s/o

Him getting used to there high and hearing and stealth .his s/o admiring being in his flamboyant husband's body( bonus and the tweels having a feeld day because they have a insecure tengen and a confident Azul .)

🌞🔥Kalim and his Rengoku s/o

(aperntly cannon Rengoku has hearing problems that's why he is so loud ) him dealing with their hearings problems and having a bigger appetite . Personally wise they are the same but Rengoku is more responsible .

🦚🐗Vil and his inosuke s/o

💀imagine the chaos him having to lock them up because crawling on the ceiling whoud ruen him having rook look after her while he has a feeld day giving her body and makeover and admirering her face (his s/o treatment to eat mud if he throws away her bore mask 💀) .

🎮👼Ildia and his tanjiro s/o

Him passing out or freaking out in their body while his s/o is comforting him singing her family lullaby to him to comfort him and them just gaming even though she is not good at gaming they still try for him .

(bonus for nezuko and ortho are also switched and being as adorable as ever.)

🐲☁️And last but not least Malleus and his muichiro s/o

Imagen everybody in school seing a muichiro that remembers and is polite and a forgetful rude Malleus.

Him and his s/o stil cloud gazing and being the loveable couple they are. while sebek is freaking out. silver fell already asleep wile cloud gazing with them. and lilia is ether filming it or helping solve it because muichiro in boddy Malleus trew a rock at ace.

🌹🦁🐙🌞👑🎮🐉

Y’all, have you seen the art that @reiketsunomizunomegami made?? I don’t tell you guys to do much, but please go support them!!!

Riddle Rosehearts

Mans woke up feeling like he hadn’t eaten in 1000 years. He’s glad that you both stayed in his room overnight because he looked over and saw… him? He was high-key panicking and went to his bathroom to check the mirror and saw… you? He took a deep breath and figured that you both must’ve switched bodies somehow.

He gently woke up and was taken aback by how his voice sounded. You slowly blinked, then you saw yourself looking at you. He waited until you were fully awake to explain your predicament. He guided you through deep breaths, and you came up with a plan. You would tell everyone at breakfast so as to avoid any confusion.

Everyone had different reactions. Trey just about dropped the teapot, Cater’s eyes just went wide and jaw dropped, Ace let out an audible laugh (thinking you were joking at first), and Deuce just froze. Riddle - in your body - explained it like this: treat you (him in your body) like the dorm head and treat him (you in his body) like his significant other.

It was one weird first day because Trey had to see if your food preferences remained the same depending on the person or depending on the body that person was in. Cater totally vlogged this whole thing. Ace had to watch his back even more because you were one of the people he could rant to. Deuce was trying his best as well, but he fared better than Ace.

Overall, a solid 7/10 week. Riddle might not have been able to behead anyone, but he was able to put them in a very easy chokehold. And by easy, I mean they almost passed out due to lack of oxygen. Ace can concur that he prefers collars to being choked (don’t take that out of context).

Leona Kingscholar

You better believe that he was angry that he woke up before the sun rose for no reason other than his body told him to. He decided that he would try to go back to sleep and went to pull you back in when he noticed that he was pulling himself in… oh, shit.

He shook you awake and you had a bit of a shocked face when you saw yourself waking you up. However, it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve seen. You were still quite sleepy since Leona’s physical body was always exhausted, so you quickly came up with a plan where you would pretend to be each other for however long this lasted.

At breakfast, it was a very weird experience. Ruggie most definitely noticed something was wrong when you said ‘thank you’ after he gave you your food. You mentally cursed yourself and just dismissed yourself to eat it in your room, but before you went you told yourself (Leona in your body) to go with you in the most I-don’t-care way possible.

It was a very difficult first day because Leona’s brother decided to drop off Cheka for the day. You (in Leona’s body) were actively playing with the young cub because you personally loved children. The child noticed this, but didn’t mind because maybe his uncle changed?

Overall, 5/10. I would’ve said it was a 4, but you finally got to relax from the stress of being a demon slayer. You got to know what it was like to sleep in and be catered to. Plus, the food Ruggie made was amazing. However, Leona wasn’t really acting like you a lot.

Azul Ashengrotto

When you both woke up at 6 in the morning, you knew that Azul wouldn’t want to get up immediately. You would normally give him a kiss on the forehead to get his day started, but when you went to do that you screamed. You saw your own body lying next to you.

After hearing your scream, your boyfriend looked around and saw himself on the floor. He was about to go back to sleep before he did a double take and started panicking when he realized he wasn’t dreaming. You led him through breathing and you came up with an idea. You would tell Jade and Floyd, but ask them to not inform anyone else.

Floyd was on the floor laughing while Jade choked back a few chuckles. The 4 of you decided that any appointments for any contract were to be rescheduled, and the excuse was that you got sick and Azul’s taking care of you. Jade got accustomed to it very quickly, but Floyd was having one hell of a time trying to get everything straight.

It wasn't too bad of a first day, and you kept this plan for however long was necessary. Since Crowley already knew, he informed the teachers so there wasn’t any mix up in class. However, your personalities kind of clashed around other students because you as a person were very confident and Azul’s very insecure.

Overall, 8/10. Nothing really changed in the wake up schedule, but everyone had to deal with a very flamboyant octopus and a very insecure demon slayer. Usually, you were the one comforting Azul, but to everyone else Azul (you in his body) was comforting you (him in your body).

Kalim Al-Asim

He probably woke up before you because your body was acclimated to waking up at 5:30 am on the dot. He was about to go to sleep when he wanted to give you a kiss on the forehead. That’s when he realized that it was his body that was lying next to him and not yours.

He shook you awake and you seemed surprised to see yourself waking you up. It’s one of the few times where you’ve seen Kalim (who’s in your body) panic. After you calmed him down, you decided to catch a few more hours of sleep and tell Jamil once breakfast was served.

Speaking of, you always loved to help the Vice Housewarden in preparing food. So when he sees Kalim (you) marching into the kitchen, he drops the spoon he was holding. You took this chance to explain that you and Kalim had somehow switched bodies overnight. Good thing it was Winter Break and no classes were being held.

For the first day, it wasn’t all that bad. Kalim (in your body) are a lot more than he normally would because of your body’s appetite, and everyone saw a more responsible Kalim (you in his body). You both kept up the high energy, so no one suspected anything.

Overall, another 7/10. Kalim had a lot of strength being in your body, so he wreaked more havoc. Nothing was horribly damaged except for Jamil’s sanity. What’s worse is that Kalim found out about your inability to hear well and he decided that you should receive more assistance once you switch back.

Vil Schoenheit

You both wake up at a very early time to get the day started. You took one look at each other and Vil screamed while you lunged at him. You thought some impostor had taken over your body when you looked in one of his mirrors. You got off of him and apologized.

You realized that this was a matter that needed a plan, so you sat down. You could be cooperative when you needed to be. You would inform the teachers about the swap and then inform Rook about your predicament.

The hunter had to admit that he did not see that coming. Rook stood there with his eyes widened and jaw dropped. You (Vil in your body) briefed him on the plan while you took to wobbling in the heels that Vil prided himself in being able to wear. As flexible as you were, you thought you would break an ankle.

For the first day, it was horrible for the both of you. You had informed the teachers of what happened, but it was still difficult. Vil loved performing skincare on his (your) face because you always struggled against him, but it stresses him out because you would threaten him by picking up some mud and holding it to your (his) face.

Overall, a 3/10 week. This was stressful for the both of you. Vil’s body was not used to wielding two nichirin blades, so you suffered some difficulty in training. Vil, however, enjoyed the flexibility your body offered and so he did a lot of yoga.

Idia Shroud

When he wakes up for whatever reason at 5 am, he’s confused. Didn’t he go to sleep 2 hours ago? He decides to look over when he sees his own flaming hair… on his own body. He screamed because he realized that it was his body he was looking at and not yours.

His screaming most definitely woke you up, and you panicked a bit because it was you that was screaming, or something that was inhabiting your body. You looked down and saw your boyfriend’s jacket. You also noticed your new hair. You calmed Idia (in your body), and told him the plan. You would tell the teachers and Ortho about your situation and go from there.

Ortho was shocked. His brother swapped bodies with you? How did this happen? Were you cursed? How long is this going to last? His reaction, although apparent, is very logical. He will go through the internet database to see if there is any solution for your predicament.

For the first day, it wasn’t too horrible. The teachers excused you from your classes since nothing too important was going on. You and Idia spent the day in his room. He taught you how to play a few video games and even though you were horrible, you still tried.

Overall, I would give it an 8/10. It was a pretty chill week. Even though you were in different years, your teachers allowed you to attend classes virtually. It was a very chill week, but it was still weird to cuddle with your boyfriend who was in your own body.

Malleus Draconia

You both woke up at a very early time, but when you looked at each other to bid each other a good morning, both your eyes widened. It was most definitely an unforeseen surprise, but neither of you panicked over it. It was just a small inconvenience that could easily be worked around.

You both decided that it would be beneficial to tell the others as well as the professors. Lilia couldn’t help but giggle at how funny this whole thing was. Silver was shocked, but he didn’t mind addressing you both the opposite names of what he was used to. Sebek screamed and started to accuse you of cursing the Prince.

The teachers had dismissed you both from class for the day to get acclimated to this swap, so you both spent the most of it cloud gazing and planning for the upcoming few days. You see, your head was always up in the clouds, but when someone brought you back down you got angry. Malleus was very down-to-earth, but open-minded.

The first day was pretty chill. Lilia was helping the both of you try and find a solution to this problem, Silver spent the day sleeping like he always does, but Sebek was on-edge. He was used to always screaming at you to get your head out of the clouds, but now you were in Malleus’ body and he felt like he was being disrespectful to the young Lord.

Overall, 9/10. Even though you (in Malleus’ body) threw a rock at Ace for letting his mouth run, it was satisfying for the both of you. Lilia was rolling on the floor laughing while Sebek was telling you off. Malleus (in your body) defended you.

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henrioo · 2 months

Note

Hey man, if you're up for it, totally cool if you aren't and I hope you feel better soon♡ I know how it feels to be in that dysphoria, just remember you aren't alone.

Request wise, if they are open, definitely ignore if not or if you aren't in the right mindset or just mood in general to write. May I request a comfort hc with Ace, like they are cuddling and Ace gently caresses his boyfriend's top surgery scars, silently reaffirming his love and how he accepts him?

Either way have a lovely day/night/afternoon, whenever you receive this. ♡♡

°•*⁀➷ THE BEST PILLOW: ACE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Sometimes you just need someone to remember how much you are loved and supported. Of course Ace, your boyfriend, is always ready to give you some of his love and appreciation besides a lot of support."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MASC! READER, MALE READER, MALE PRONOUNS, top surgery, mastectomy surgery, mentions surgery scars, mentions about body dysphoria, mentions about growing up in a transphobic society with transphobic rules, non explicit mention of post surgery, pls tell me if I forgot something triggering

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,4k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Do you still love me even if I take years to deliver your ask? Do you? Probably not but here it is, I loved this ask but I think I put too much context in the part of the top surgery of the reader and not too much comfort and affirmations. But still here, also all things about the readers feelings about the surgery are only my own feelings about my chest in general, so not everyone will identify with that. Also I don't have made the top surgery yet so I can't tell for sure how someone would feel, still hope you like.

You were organizing your closet in the room you shared with Ace, he was terrible with organization and would just throw his clothes in there, so you used to take a day or two to tidy everything up. Everything was peaceful until Ace opened the bedroom door abruptly, looking around until he fixed his gaze on you.

"You! Take! Off! Your! Shirt! Now!" He said, closing the door with a thud as he quickly walked towards you.

"What?!" You were confused and embarrassed, what was he wanting now?

"Let's go! Take off the shirt!" He huffed and growled like an angry dog as he tried to forcefully remove your shirt, completely lacking the patience to wait for you to do it yourself.

“Ace! What happened to you?!” You asked shyly as you tried to shield yourself from his attacks and keep your shirt on.

“I want to cuddle, it’s nicer to lay on your chest when you’re shirtless, your skin is warm” he said, looking at you with huge puppy eyes and a big beak.

You just sighed, damn cute boyfriend who made you give in to his every request.

“Right, right, you could have said that before trying to rip my shirt off without any explanation” you smile at your lover’s cuteness. Sometimes Ace really seemed like a puppy desperate for all your attention, always happy when you gave him love.

Ace just laughed, ignoring it and you knew he would do it again. You swore that if you stared at him a little longer, you'd be able to see his imaginary tail wagging. You took a deep breath as you took off your shirt, your scars were now completely healed and you could now do all the normal things, take sun, bathe with standard products instead of just neutral things, stop wearing the compression tops that were a type of bandage, besides of course, touch was now fully allowed as your skin is no longer healing or sensitive. You finally had the chest you always wanted, with all the sensations of a chest without breasts.

And even so, finally having the surgery of your dreams, having a chest that finally didn't give you dysphoria due to your breasts, a masculine chest, you were finally able to feel more secure and comfortable and call yourself a man, and even with all that, you couldn't be shirtless. Marco said it might take some time for you to get used to it, after all it was a big physical change and it might be strange waking up with a new body, but that wasn't the problem. You felt a kind of… shame, shyness, you couldn’t explain it.

In a way, it was strange that you were allowed to walk around shirtless without any strange looks. All your life, you've been forced to wear a shirt because you're a “woman” and women can't go around shirtless because they have boobs and blah blah. But now you not only identify as a man, but you also don't have those feminine boobs, now you have a chest like Ace, Marco and the other boys on the ship, no one would look at you strange because you're shirtless.

But it's easier said than done, and even though you know Moby Dick was a safe place, you're still too shy to come out of your shell. And of course your super boyfriend was doing his best to make you feel more comfortable in your own skin, so some days he would lock you in your room and leave you shirtless. Most days, he would just end up sleeping and drooling on your bare chest. But even if it was just that, it was already making you feel more normal about yourself.

Once you were finally shirtless, you reflexively moved to cover yourself, but then decided to take a deep breath and fight it. You were a man and you didn't need to be ashamed of your body, not then, not now. So, you just calmed down and turned to Ace, who was staring at you with glassy, shining eyes like he saw treasure and… he was drooling?!

“Ace?” You asked, trying to snap the man out of his trance.

“Wow… I know I've seen you like this before, but every time I see you it's just… wow…” he said, swallowing deeply as his cheeks flushed. “So, pretty boy, do you have a boyfriend?” Ace said, waggling his eyebrows with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

“I do and he’s a pervert” you said, huffing in fake anger as you threw your shirt in his face.

"Hey! I'm not a pervert!" He chuckled, getting rid of the fabric you threw at him. “It's not my fault if you hide all your hotness to yourself! You should look like me, completely shirtless, so I can enjoy your seductive body whenever I want!” He said, crossing his arms completely firm with his argument.

“Of course, and then, just like I put up with all those women and men hitting on you just because you're shirtless, you'd also have to put up with everyone hitting on me, what do you think?” You said, smirking as you sat on the edge of the bed. Ace wasn't possessive by any means, but he was very insecure and that made him very jealous. He was afraid you'd find someone better and abandon him.

“You know what, you don’t look so bad in a shirt” he said, already regretting the idea of showing you off like that to so many people.

“That’s what I thought” You laughed at him, seeing how annoyed he had been at the idea.

Soon, Ace perked up again and ran towards you. So, you quickly adjusted yourself on the bed so you were half lying, half standing, and spread your legs so he could lay on top of you more comfortably.

“Now like this, living in paradise” he sighed when he finally laid his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist without making you uncomfortable, but still managing to hold you. “So warm and soft.”

“You look like a puppy sometimes…” you laughed as you started stroking his black hair, giving him the cuddle he loved so much.

“Just for you…” Ace smiled, rubbing his face against your skin, as if he somehow wanted to absorb all of your scent and body heat.

You stayed like that for a while, just you stroking Ace's black hair and him lying peacefully on your chest. Then, he positioned himself so that he was lying further to the side, having a view of half of your chest. His hand released you and began to caress your scars, they were almost invisible due to Marco's power, but they were still there in a slightly different tone than your skin.

“You know… I kind of like them” he said and you were confused, did he like your scars?

"Why?" You asked.

“I don't know exactly... It's just... It reminds me how strong you are, how determined... You fought a battle that I don't think I'd ever be able to handle” he sighed, gently touching the marks. “You are just incredible, an incredible man.”

“It’s just… scars” you said, a little shy that he was being so genuine about it, he truly loved every part of you. Even the ones where you were insecure.

“No… They’re proof of how awesome you are” he said, looking at you with a mischievous smile. “They just prove how incredible you are, you are an incredible man” he smiled and kissed your scar. “I'm sure you're more of a man than all the men in Moby Dick!” His boyfriend said with conviction.

“Even more than pops?” You laughed knowing Ace would defend his father to the death.

"Hmm... Well... You're manly enough" Ace said, embarrassed for not being able to admit that he was your father's number one fan. As much as he loved you, he couldn't stop being a fanboy. “But you are more of a man than me! That’s enough, right?”

"What?" You laughed, thinking he was a total idiot. “Okay, I’ll be the man in the relationship and you my princess, okay?”

“But of course, did you have any doubts that I was the princess?” He asked, pretending to be offended and all you could do was laugh.

You sighed, relaxing on the bed. Maybe it wasn't today that you would go out shirtless and show the world that you were proud of who you were... but as long as you had the support of your family and especially your boyfriend, you knew you were capable of facing any battle. You were a man and everyone, including you, knew it, and that was more than enough for you.

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