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boneblushed · 7 months

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Is it chill that you’re in my head?

synopsis your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

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“He’s looking over here,” James sings under his breath, his brown eyes full of mirth. He’s balancing on the spindly hind-legs of his library chair, the Potions essay he’s supposed to be doing laid out in disarray.

You send him a reproachful look. “You’re being malicious.” When you turn back around to face Davey Gudgeon’s table, there’s a split second of eye contact before he ducks his head down abashedly, his cheeks a brilliant rouge.

He has a crush on you, apparently. Sirius and Remus had overhead him talking about it on his way down to breakfast this morning—about how prefects rarely escaped unscathed after sharing something as intimate as a Saturday night duty.

James Potter, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.

“Au contraire,” he murmurs, the grin on his face audible, “I’m being a world class wingman.”

The look on his face is downright dangerous. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, unperturbed by the frown on your own, a warning. Easing forward until each hind-leg finds the ground with a resounding thud, he cups his hands around his mouth, whisper-shouting, “Oi! Gudgeon!”

Davey Gudgeon reddens further, a feat you didn’t think was possible until now. He glances over at James dismally, a furtive expression on his face. “What?” He mouthes, sending you this weak half-smile. It’s sort of sweet, almost contagious. You find yourself smiling back at him on instinct.

“Come over here, you bludger,” James chastises, like that’s the obvious next step. To be fair, it probably is to him — he’s never shied away from flirting with the girls he fancies, a self-proclaimed dating aficionado with way too much chat for his own good.

Davey hesitates, his nervous gaze flitting to you momentarily. He looks as though he wants to do just that, but isn’t sure whether his crush on you is reciprocated. Sweet.

He has gentle eyes, too, pretty juniper with bright specks of burnt ochre. A nice head of brown hair. If it was cold outside, you bet he’d offer you his Quidditch jersey without hesitation.

You think you need sweet, all things considered. You’ve known James Potter all of seven years now, had a wretched crush on him all of five, and never once has he indicated that his aforementioned expertise could ever extend to you.

It’s high-time that you gave your pathetic heart a rest.

“You’re making him miserable,” you mutter, ever-reproachful.

Davey hasn’t moved yet, though you’re sure he wants to, his hands braced on the table in front of him apprehensively. He keeps looking between you and James, surveying his options; in order ease his anguish, you decide you’d better make the decision for him.

You push your chair back and stand up, it’s spindly legs scraping against the vinyl floor forebodingly. James looks up in surprise. “Where r’you going?”

“To Gudgeon’s table.”

“Why?” James urges, perplexed. He half-stands too, his features a smidge less mirthful than before.

“So you’ll stop,” you reply, frowning down at him.

He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m stopping.” A pause. In the beat that passes, his assessing gaze falls over you in paces. “You’re not… you’re not keen on him too, are you?”

You think on this, cocking your head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s kinda sweet.”

“But he doesn’t even have the balls to come over here and ask you out properly,” James whisper-shouts, mildly exasperated.

You’ve never once called him sweet.

He’s had this tragic crush on you for all of seven years, and never once has he been on the receiving end of such a fond adjective. He’d only made a fuss over this Davey situation because he was sure it was just a jibe — no way someone like you would be interested in a guy like Gudgeon, no way you would even entertain the possibility of more than friends.

Right?

James wants that more than friends thing with you, bad. This morning, when Sirius’d brought up Bludgeon’s crush on you—sniggering violently—he’d snuck a glance at your features to ensure that it wasn’t reciprocated. He’s sure he’d caught a bit of second-hand embarrassment, though maybe it was actually just tender hearted diffidence. Maybe Davey fucking Gudgeon had something that he somehow didn’t.

Right now, James’d give up his head boy badge and Quidditch captaincy to acquire that something. His chest hurts terribly. He runs his sloven fingers through his unkempt hair, sending you another look of bewilderment.

“Because you’re here,” you reprove. “Course he’s not going to come over when the James Potter is taking the mickey out of him.��

You say his name like it’s an insult. James’ heart plummets. “I’m not — he’s welcome to come over,” he argues quietly, chagrined. “Besides, he’s going to have to get used to me if he wants to be your boyfriend.”

“Why?” You frown. “I always bugger off when you’re with another girl.”

“That’s different,” James insists, frowning in tandem.

“How’s that different?”

They aren’t you, James thinks vaguely. His poor heart blunders for the umpteenth time this afternoon. “None of them are girlfriends.”

“Not for lack of trying,” you mutter. James swears he hears a hint of spite in your tone. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. M’going over.”

James slumps back into his seat reluctantly. He knows that you’re right, begrudging as that revelation may be — he is always flirting with one girl or another, though that’s more so to pass time than anything particularly serious. Never you. You’d see right through him, anyway. Besides, the last time he tried, it’d been so disastrous you’d assumed he was joking.

It’d been at that Halloween party they’d had in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, firewhiskey flowing and sweet treats piled atop every surface.

You were wearing this gorgeous, albeit bemusing, costume of a Muggle someone — Wonder Woman, or something, James didn’t quite understand it. Showing a lot of skin. Your pretty eyes were accented by rouge glitter, lips all glossy, and your exposed limbs and bare waist had eased his heart right into his throat.

And James Potter didn’t often find himself lost for words, but it appeared as though this party was one of those exceptions.

“Woah,” he’d murmured, wolf-whistling lowly. He was in this ridiculous, Babbity Rabbity costume (courtesy of Sirius, who was a cackling pot), feeling entirely out of place when you looked so beautiful. “Christ, Y/N, who’re you meant to be? The hottest muggleborn at Hogwarts or something?”

You’d rolled your eyes then, because no way he was serious. “Don’t tease, James. Did you guys manage to snag any cauldron cakes?”

He’d been too busy to insist his sincerity, fond gaze travelling down your bare limbs, slow. Lingering on the wafer of exposed waist between your corset and skirt. He’s still agonised by the want to touch your soft skin; that wretched Hogwarts shirt tuck has prevented this from happening.

“By the fire,” he’d answered after a beat, dazed.

And when you’d fallen out of earshot, James’ eyes still trained on your figure, Sirius and Remus’d come up behind him, the latter wearing Muggle-manufactured fangs. (Supposedly, he was meant to be a vampire.)

“You’ve got a tragic affliction, James,” Sirius’d tutted under his breath, faux-apologetic. “How’re you somehow able to flirt with every girl in this room except the one that matters?”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered back at the time, though as he thinks back on it now, he realises that Sirius was right.

For some reason, with you, he always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He watches Davey scramble to straighten as you near his library table, the heat on his neck rising until his entire face is in a flush. And you’re smiling as you sit down beside him, this sweet, unabashed smile that looks too much like feelings reciprocated. Something in James’ ribcage cracks, an ugly emotion springing forth from within it. But he’s immobile, hands on the table and furrow in his brow, agonised by the fact that you’re looking at Davy all fond, not him.

Never him. You ask a question—James is trying his best to lip-read, but it’s difficult not to get carried away staring at your mouth. Davey nods, and then reddens some more. Then you stand up, feelings-reciprocated smile on your face as you walk back over to the table you’re sharing with James.

“He looks pleased,” James mutters grumpily.

You frown. “You don’t.”

“You’re doing charity work,” he answers, ignoring the insinuation. “You know that, right?”

“James,” you sigh, “you’re being unkind.”

“Because he’s punching.” But James knows this is unfair. He’s pretty sure every bloke in Hogwarts would be, if it was you and them.

—

“James,” Sirius calls, bemused. “You coming mate?”

Its autumn in Hogsmeade, and they’ve reached a cross roads.

The path to the left of them leads to the Hog’s Head Inn, one of their favourite haunts in the village due to its relative unpopularity. To the right, where James is glancing furtively, the cobblestone pavement takes them toward the Three Broomsticks. Where you are. With Davey.

Remus shares a knowing look with Sirius. “Think he’s in the mood for one of Rosmerta’s butter-beers, actually.”

James groans, scrubbing his calloused palm down his face slovenly. He knows exactly what he’s insinuating; Remus always has been the most astute of the lot. “Don’t bloody start.”

Sirius grins then, reaching for James and throwing an arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re going to need something stronger than butter-beer if you’re planning on watching Gudgeon snog your girl.”

His heart plummets. There’s that ugly emotion again, rearing its contemptuous head at him. “Wormtail’s there too,” he tries, shoving Sirius off. “We should go say hi.”

“Oh yes,” Sirius allows, his brown eyes full of mischief. “The one Marauder with a girlfriend. You after some tips, mate?”

“Cut him some slack, Sirius,” Remus chastises, though there isn’t much fire to his tone as he says it. “Reckon he’s miserable enough about the fact that the one time he fancies a girl she isn’t interested.”

James frowns, sending the pair of them a look of determination. “Look, shove off, both of you.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens further, keenly resolute. “I just want to check on her, alright? Make sure that bludger isn’t pulling anything funny.”

“Right.” Sirius nods soberly. “Or snogging her to death.”

“Fuck,” James groans again, his insides squirming. “You’ve gotta stop putting that image in my head.”

He turns toward the path to his right, the cobblestones plush with Autumn leaves, when he spots your figure in the distance and freezes. Coming closer. You look beautiful in this matter-of-fact, effortless way that makes James’ heart stutter; your pretty eyes are alight with mirth as you catch his gaze, this fond smile on your lips that makes him want to kiss you. Bad. He swallows thickly, his chest a pathetic mess.

Sirius and Remus must spot you too, because the pair of them beginning walking backward toward the Hog’s head, their eyebrows raised in tandem.

“She isn’t with the bludger, Prongs,” calls Sirius, a knowing lilt to his tone. “Now’s your chance.”

“My chance?” James asks, distracted.

“To snog her, you idiot.”

But James doesn’t hear him. Partly because the wind’s picked up, mostly because it’s difficult for him to concentrate on anything but your growing closeness.

Once you’re within earshot—more of you to agonise over, exposed waifs of skin like a siren song—he stumbles forward clumsily.

“Y/N,” James breathes out, pleasantly surprised. “Where’s Davey?”

You grimace, looking over your shoulder furtively. “I’ve just escaped him.”

James’ stomach deflates, relief washing over him in waves. He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Escaped?”

“Don’t,” you warn, frowning sternly. “He… he’s alright, really. Just doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation.” You grimace again. “Or take a hint. Like, at all.”

“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”

“Well,” you begin, and then you shiver, moving closer to James without meaning to. “Christ, Potter, you’re a really good wind shield, y’know that?”

“At your service,” he murmurs, inching forward too. “You were saying?”

You gaze up at him, the rough planes of his face ever present, and you’re struck by the revelation that he doesn’t need an old Quidditch jersey to keep you warm. He’s a furnace of body heat and cedar-wood cologne.

“Well,” you continue, voice low, “after two butter beers and absolutely zero chat, I’d sort of assumed that he’d have realised that this just isn’t going to work.”

“But…?”

“But,” you grimace, “he asked me out again.”

The way your features twist as you say it, as though that’s the last thing you want to do, wrings any residual jealousy he may be feeling right out of his stomach. He’s struck by this suddenly, overwhelming urge to caress your jaw and pull you closer.

“And let me guess,” James murmurs, grinning fondly. “You said yes.”

“I said I’ll see.”

“I worry all this charity work’s going to be the death of you, Y/N.”

You crinkle your nose up at him, punching his chest playfully. “Don’t you start James Potter.”

James raises his arms in surrender, still grinning. His gaze lifts above your head to take in the footpath behind you, and he finds himself looking right at the burly figure of Davey Gudgeon trudging toward the pair of you.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about him not being able to take a hint, huh?”

You furrow your brow, looking over your shoulder bemusedly. When your head whips back around to face him, your eyes are wide and a little tortured, dappled by the warm, orange hues of Autumn. A damsel, James’ thinks, dazed, as if that’s a normal thought for a eighteen-year-old bloke to have. He’s already spiralling over kissing you and it’s been all of five minutes.

“Is he looking over here?” You ask, your voice low.

James’ eyes dart back to Davey. “Uh, yeah?”

“Good.”

You wrap your arms around his neck hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. James takes a second to recalibrate, his poor heart a mess, but when he does, he’s quick to circle your waist and pull you closer, his strong arms firm and torso warm on your figure. It’s a deft kiss, chaste as it is agonising, though kiss enough for him to memorise the feeling. The buttery taste of your lips, the perfect way they appear to mould against his.

It’s a tandem emotion — you’ve revelling in this kiss far more than you should, the arduous pressure of James’ lips on your own. He’s going to leave a mark. He tastes like sugar quills and feels like the death of you, his sloven hands pressing into the bare skin of your waist.

When you do finally pull away, your cheeks are warm and you’re a little breathless. “S’he still there?”

A beat passes. James doesn’t look up.

You mistake his pause for unease, and grimace abashedly, looking away from him. In hindsight, you aren’t sure what possessed you to kiss him like that — you want to pretend it was to stave Davey away, but your traitorous heart says otherwise.

God, you think, it was a really good kiss. If only James liked it as much as you did.

If only you knew.

“Sorry,” you add in a hurry, still grimacing. “I — I wasn’t thinking, I just didn’t want Davey to come over here and I —”

“Y/N,” James interrupts, his voice rough, gravelly around the edges. “Stop talking.”

You let out a breath. “Why?”

“I want to pretend you kissed me because you wanted to, just for one more second.”

“What?” You ask, your eyes wide. “Why?”

James thinks, isn’t it obvious? He’s still marvelling over how perfect your mouth is.

“Because,” he admits quietly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You don’t know what to say to this. Your still chest to chest with less than an inch between your figures, and you can feel your poor heart struggling to free itself from its cage. “You have?” You say, suddenly bashful.

James nods. His pupils are a little blown, his unkempt hair a mess, and he keeps his gaze trained on your lips as though he’s being paid for it. “And listen,” he murmurs, reaching forward to thumb over them softly. “Don’t worry about Davey Gudgeon.”

“Why not, James Potter?”

“Because I’d sooner die than let that bludger bore my girl to death again.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #marauders era #James potter fanfiction

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experimentfae · 4 months

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Alastor x Wife! Reader

Oneshot / fluff

After you and alastor had moved into the hotel to “help.” Let’s just say that the rest of the hotel residents saw pda all. The. Time.

Vaggie watched as alastor kissed your hand again! “Sweet satan can those two get a room already that’s literally the seventh time he kissed her hand.” She grumbled out “aw come on vaggie you have to admit it’s sweet seeing love like that’s down here, it’s rare, except our love of course.” Stated Charlie.

“I get it, we get like that, but the difference is that we do it SOMETIMES they do it EVERY TIME they have the chance.” She Argued “and besides I just really don’t like that radio dipshit.” “Oh please you don’t like anyone attached to a dick.” Angel dust butted in while he laid on the other couch busy looking at his phone.

Vaggie could only roll her eyes in response “well I think our pda is not of your concern.” Spoke alastor with a smug look which made everyone except you jump a little “satan’s asshole do you always have to come out like that?!” Argued angeldust “it’s more entertaining to watch all of you jump in a little scare.” Alastor replied proud of himself to make them a little scared.

“Dear even if it was quite hilarious we can’t do that to them all the time… it wouldn’t be entertaining anymore like that.” You advised him while you walked towards him to be next to him. “You’re right my dear, wouldn’t wish that.”

“Yep a match made in hell.” Grumbled out husk then he continued to take his beer “husk is right my dear we the perfect pair.” “I don’t think that’s what he meant sorta, but we are perfect for each other.” Just then you looked to see the clock then you let out a gasp “oh Al we don’t want to be late for our dinner reservations.” You stated, “oh yes, we must get ready.”

With a simple snap of his finger’s you and alastor were completely dressed “what’s up with the getup?” Angeldust questioned “it’s our anniversary, so we going to the cannibal colony to alastor’s favorite restaurant.” You smiled “wait you’re a cannibal too.” Vaggie asked in shock “well… I did try demon meat and it’s not that bad.” You answers shrugging your shoulders “so that’s a yes? Or … no?” Charlie questioned further “mmm yeah I believe so.” You answered again.

“Huh didn’t take you for a cannibal.” Spoke husk “yeah have you ate another’s man pecker and Al if she did would you be ok with that?” Questioned angeldust “absolutely not.” You both answered “enough with the questions we must hurry (y/n).” Demanded alastor “goodb- you didn’t get to finish you’re farewell due to alastor, once again he snapped his fingers and you were at the restaurant.

“Thankfully my love we made it on time.” Alastor spoke while he grabbed your hand and guided you inside the restaurant. A host was at the front seeming to writing something “welcome to the FedOnPals how may- when he looked up he immediately panicked “T-The alastor by hen smiled wider “yes me the radio demon and my lovely wife!” Alastor stated proudly also just because you knew he was an attention whore so he wanted others to know he was there.

Of course some of the cannibals in the restaurant seemed nervous. “Well- yes um of course I see you’re name on the list so… let me b-bring to your table.” The man said clearly wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

Of course you two got the best seats in the house “a waiter will be with you shortly very… shortly p-promise.” The host immediately left with only made alastor chuckle “I do love the perks of being an overlord.” “Aw even more than me?” You teased with a smirk, he smiled wider “no dear you know I can’t love anything more than you.”

You smiled “I love the outfits you picked for us by the way very classy.” “Of course, only the best for my wife.” Just then a waiter came in “hello I’m Mindy and I’ll have your orders.” The demoness spoke as she gave you two the menus.

As the demoness left you two picked out your orders, ate, alastor paid then you two left to go to a jazz club to dance “oh honey you rembered my favorite spot.” You spoke with pure joy “I could never forget, besides our love for jazz is how we meet.” You smiled brighten as you pecked his cheek making him lightly blush “adorable.” “Me? adorable!? dear don’t joke like that.” Alastor demanded making you laugh “oh honey alright just having a little fun.”

Alastor opened the door for you, the song ‘lets misbehave’ by Irving Aaronson filled you’re ears “oh that’s a good song.” You stated, you thanked alastor and went through and he went after you.

You immediately dragged him to the dance floor which he happily let you, both you begin doing the Charleston funny enough this song always reminded you have alastor.

He then brought you into the foxtrot dance, you both looked into each others eyes that are filled with love. He the suddenly gave you a kiss making you blush but immediately kiss back.

You two continued dance, happy to in each others arms and having a loving relationship and knowing that you two where always will be inseparable.

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x wife reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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steddieasitgoes · 10 months

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Steve’s parents leaving him home alone more and more after the Fall of 1983. Half the time they don’t even tell him in advance, he just finds out from a note left on the kitchen counter and $10 to cover pizza.

Steve waking from a nightmare, friendless, alone (let’s pretend he and Nancy didn’t get back together), and hungry. The fridge is empty and Bradley’s Big Buy is closed for the night. He tries to go back to sleep but his stomach won’t relent so he reluctantly gets dressed and drives 15 minutes to the 24 hour McDonalds in the next town over.

The same McDonalds where Eddie works the drive thru headset at on the weekends. He’s not exactly fond of the job and finds dozens of ways to make it more entertaining — like coming up with terrible nicknames for the company.

Steve is taken aback the first time the static drive thru speaker welcomes him to “McCrap-lds.”

It makes him smile for the first time in weeks.

Neither Steve nor Eddie recognize each others voices as they banter back and forth. Steve ask for recommendations, Eddie makes fun of him but gives in.

When Steve pulls up to the window he expects to meet the funny drive thru employee but he’s greeted with a tired middle-aged women instead. Apparently Eddie lost window privileges after an incident. Steve doesn’t ask questions.

When he wakes up from another nightmare a week later, he returns to the McDonalds and engages Eddie in more easy banter before ordering his food.

It becomes a habit — one he keeps up for the entirety of the summer of 1984.

Steve and Eddie never meet face to face but that doesn’t stop them from venting, joking, and sharing their McDonalds recommendations through a shitty drive thru speaker.

Then on the first day of senior year, Steve is in line for the terrible cafeteria food (it makes McDonalds look like a Michelin Star meal) desperately craving chicken McNuggets and sweet and sour sauce when he hears a familiar voice. He turns quickly, eager to finally learn who the mystery guy responsible for making him laugh at 3am in a McDonalds parking lot is only to find Eddie “the Freak” Munson waltzing across lunch table going on and on about how conformity is killing kids.

Steve’s in shock. How could the sincere and hilarious guy he’s been shooting the shit with all summer be The Freak?! But then Eddie’s foot catches on a lunch tray and he topples ass first to the floor. When he pops up he takes a dramatic bow and makes a joke — one that sends Steve into uncontrollable laughter.

Yep, Eddie “the Freak” Munson is McDonalds guy.

And Steve knows exactly what he has to do.

He figures out where Eddie’s locker is and then excuses himself two minutes before the dismissal bell so he can get himself into position. When Eddie saunters over to his locker at the end of the day, Steve is waiting for him.

“Think it’s time I cash in on that free sundae you promised me a few weeks ago.”

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded for a moment, mind reeling as he process what Steve is getting at.

“You, Steve “the hair” Harrington are the McDonalds guy? My McDonalds guy?”

“Well I’m certainly the McDonalds guy,” Steve says taking a step closer. “Buy me that free sundae first and then we can discuss me being your McDonalds guy.”

#this is so dumb but the idea won’t leave me head #should I make this a proper fic? I may have started but I need to know if it’s worth it #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington/eddie munson #Steve harrington fluff #eddie munson fluff #alternate first meeting #meet cute #Dani writes #stranger things #stranger things fic

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writingmeraki · 7 days

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be there when I wake up — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you love mingyu in all states of your mind, whether sober or drunk out of your limit.

( or it seems even when you're drunk you don't recognise him but you still love him with your whole heart. )

pairing : secret agent! husband mingyu x secret agent! spouse reader. warnings : mentions of alcohol and being drunk, hangovers, reader almost has a breakdown (?). genre : fluff, romance. a/n : more of them, I can't get enough I have too much to write on them😔 let me know what you think of this 💌!! not proofread (this was very random pls I am absolutely NOT procrastinating my other wips, ignore errors pls it's lit 5am 😴 )

word count : 1.3k

part of this au !

It felt like you were on cloud nine, feet light as you walked and head filled with nothing.

Being drunk tends to do that to you at least.

Today, when Mingyu and you got your well deserved day off, he decided it was time for you to be the one to let yourself loose.

Not that he never did let you but usually you were the one who assigned yourself as the designated driver whenever it was just you two. Though being as thoughtful as he was, he made sure to never be too hectic for you to handle if he could do it himself.

And even then, he'd still do his best to stabilise himself albeit the attempts were always hilarious but the thought counted.

He held you tightly by your waist to his side, making sure you didn't fall or wander off somewhere because see while he was the type to be the clingy drunk, not leaving your side, you were the carefree one, wanting to fly away, perhaps even quite literally.

As your husband and more importantly lover, he did not want to entertain the idea of you hurting yourself by accident. Luckily, all the gym hours he’d spend building his muscles to impress his one and only lifetime crush (read:you) paid off, because you used him completely as a support to walk, leaning all your weight on him.

Your cheeks were warm, eyes half lidded, now the pain in your cheeks was prominent from smiling so much, it seemed you smiled more when drunk than sober in a few months. It wasn’t because you were emotionless but rather only smiled to those who deserve it, which was only a handful of people. Your husband is on the top of course.

Speaking of your husband, you suddenly paused in your steps, remembering him. Realising you were clinging onto someone, you pushed yourself away, smile dropping and being replaced by a frown while you glared.

Mingyu blinked once, twice, a little startled from being pushed away and even more when he saw your glare.

“You shouldn’t hold some stranger like that, mister.” You could make out the silhouette in front of you, but the face was a blur. The classic case of drunken forgetfulness.

“Babe-”

“BABE? Are you crazy? Only my husband can call me that! Which by the way.” You put out your left hand, pointing towards the shiny ring. The shiny ring he got you. “See!I’m married!”

“And-and I am very happy with my Gyu, I don’t need you- or or anyone courting me- I am very happy with my relationship sir.”

Fuck. Why did you have to say it like that?

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face, there was no way he could even if he tried to. Only you could make him feel like the first time he'd ever have a crush on someone. His heart raced, almost too fast. He swears he can feel his chest fill with even more love.

“Okay, okay how about I get you to your car?”

“No mister! I re-refuse I don't want to go with you, where's Mingyu? Where's Gyu???”

You were whining at this point, finding your legs too tired so you ended up just sitting. Right in the middle of the pavement.

Mingyu’s eyes widened when you sat down but even more in panic, the smile dropping as he saw you bring your hands to your face.

You were crying.

“Where's Gyu? Did he leave me?” A hiccup came after the sentence, as your vision got more blurry with the tears flowing even more freely.

He rushed towards you squatting beside you, pulling you into his side.

“Honey, I'm here. Shh. I'm here.”

You looked up from your position, making sure to blink to clear out the tears and there he was. Your husband.

“Gyuuu” Your words slurred and choked up as you threw yourself at him. Him immediately wrapping his hands around you, still in the sitting position.

Your arms looped yourself around his neck as you put your head in the crook of his neck, still crying.

“I thought you le-left.”

“I'd never. I would never leave you.”

“Please don't.”

Slowly, he got up, pulling you gently up as well, still holding onto you and your entire weight now leaned on him.

“Come on, you wanna head home?” You pulled your face away from the nook, looking up at him as your sobs stopped turning to sniffles.

He moved one hand to hold your face as he caressed your cheek, pushing your stray hair strands behind your ears with delicate touches.

Your eyes began to droop, the side effects of being drunk slowly overcoming you. You just simply nodded as you put your head back to his comfy shoulder.

Sighing, he shook his head as he noticed your breathing slowing down, coming out in slow exhales, meaning you just passed out drunk.

He softly smiled as his hand still caressed your hair. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[ bonus cut : the following morning ]

You were sure this was your karma catching up to you because the way your head was splitting was surely due to your supposed horrible past deeds. There was no other reason.

“Good morning sunshine~”

“Zip. Shut. Shh. Not a word.”

Mingyu frowned, pouting at your harsh reply, but a small pity formed as he saw you wake up while holding your head in pain.

“That's mean.”

“Not mean enough, I will actually kill you.”

Being the ever so doting husband he was, he'd gotten up from your shared bed, made breakfast, your favourite food by the way, and even gotten ready for the day.

“Have this, you'll feel better so that maybe you can plan my murder better hm?”

And now there he sat down beside you on your bed, a painkiller in one hand with a glass of water.

You grabbed the water like you had never touched it in your existence, gulping it down along with the pill,even if it ended up spilling onto your clothes. You frankly don't care.

Mingyu gazed at you with the same adoration he always had. He loved you at all times, anytime. He just knew that he loves you. He didn't think he said it enough.

“I love you.” You almost choked on the water, gulping it down before it sprayed out. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can I not say I love you to my spouse?” He honestly felt offended at the suspicious look on your face.

“Alright…”

Now it was his turn to squint at you in question, as if waiting for something.

“I guess I love you too.” You were pulling his leg, you loved to see that look on his face where it seemed as though someone had stepped on his tail. Like a puppy who’s tail had been stepped on by mistake

“I don't even want to talk to you. Bye.” He snatched the empty glass, glaring at you now, you knew it was not with any sort of malice, you knew him. He turned around, purposefully stomping and then you couldn't stop the laughter.

You burst out in giggles, clutching your stomach, the headache subsiding.

You threw off the blanket and rushed after him, hugging him from behind, hands barely wrapping around his large frame but it did stop him. You placed your face sideways on his back.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I love you. Like surely. One hundred percent.” You said still chuckling, the grin on your face not faltering.

He wasn't even upset in the first place, because the moment he heard your laugh, his own grin formed widely on his face.

“You mean it?”

“I do. Always did. And will.”

And perhaps this was what it meant to be loved. And to love.

for my dearest @etherealyoungk ; THIS IS A VERY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MY WIFE 🫂 ( blame that on the fact that this was totally not what I planned to write for ur birthday 😔) I love you so much and I can't believe we got close this soon <3 I wish I could have known you before because it feels like I know you since so long, you're literally my soulmate like??? i hope you have an amazing year ahead soo here is ur fave couple as a present mwahh (mine too lowkey)

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

569 notes · View notes

dev1lm4n · 10 months

Text

lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather.

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite.

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t.

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again?

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening.

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he’s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips.

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tw age gap

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blitzyn · 3 months

Text

prospect

toji fushiguro x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> sighs and explodes i need this man injected in my blood right NOW. nobody will be able to convince me that this man doesn’t have a breeding kink. sometimes i forget im writing for real people on a real platform and it jump scares me when people comment on my work. but in a good way ofc i love seeing people’s thoughts on my stuff. ANYWAYS. REQS.

wc -> 4.7k words of filth LMAO

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, throat fucking, using “pussy” and “cunt” as a synonym, mild impact play, breeding kink, mirror sex, finger hooking, bondage, begging, brief gun play, when i say “little” i mean that in a condescending sorta way and not bc the reader is described to be petite and tiny, not beta read obv

"You're a tricky one, I'll give you that," is the first thing the man before you said. It'd been quite a while since the first time the two of you met in a dingy bar hidden in the sketchier parts of town. He hadn't been trying to kill you then - he was but a fellow patron eager to ruin his liver. Originally, he had a strange gut feeling about you. Like a pretty thing like you wasn't all it seemed, but he shrugged it off after a well-placed look from you offering to buy a couple more rounds.

So when he's given another job, the first thing he does is laugh. He didn't really mean it at first, but really, the irony was hilarious. The guy he nearly got to fuck was his current target: [Name] [L.Name], a rising Jujutsu Sorcerer. He obviously wasn't as strong as the esteemed Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but he was advancing a little faster than many would've liked.

"Thanks. I tried," you replied, seeming much too relaxed for a man about to be assassinated. You were currently stuck on the floor with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together by plain, old, ordinary rope. You were a little embarrassed, truthfully, to have been caught by such a mundane trap like this.

You struggled against your restraints a bit, sighing in defeat when you only served to remind yourself just how stuck you were. "These are pretty secure," you started, giving the man before you a laidback smirk. "You experienced?"

Toji gave you a quizzical look for a moment before breaking out in an amused grin, resting his handgun against his shoulder. He definitely wasn't expecting his target to start flirting with him instead of pleading for his life like he was used to. But he'll entertain you for a while. "You could say that."

You huffed through your nose, your eyes lazily flitting around the room. You were making your way back inside the abandoned building you chose to hide in when you suddenly found yourself tied up. It took you a moment to realize you couldn't move when he appeared in front of you, but even less to recognize him as the man you almost got to sleep with. "I would've loved to have you tie me up back then, but this wasn't really what I was thinking about."

"Your phone's a real cockblock, huh?" He chuckled lightly, in an almost mocking manner from what you managed to detect in his voice. "Can't even begin to imagine how long you've had to go without gettin' laid."

You rolled your eyes like he wasn't only there to kill you and get his money. "Don't get me started. There's always something new I have to kill every fuckin' second. My boss thinks it's great training to go out whenever I can."

Right. Technically, you weren't a fully-fledged Sorcerer. You had more of a vigilante-esque vibe to you. You hadn't attended either Jujutsu High School in Tokyo or Kyoto as well, only taught by your family and experiences. Not that that really mattered anyway. You fought, you got strong, and now someone put a hit on you.

You sighed, shifting your body to a more comfortable position before tilting your head back against the wall. “This is the part where I beg for my life, right?” You questioned rhetorically, with an almost bored expression on your face before your eyes lit up with an idea. “I’m not too good at that, but I am good at begging for something else.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in intrigue, unable to fight off the grin at the obvious implication. He didn’t stop you from shamelessly checking him out, but he cut your ogle session short regardless.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He made his way closer, crouching in front of you to get a better view of your face. He knew what you were asking for. He just wanted to know if you’d follow through with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline making you bold, knowing that he could easily kill you with the pull of a trigger—or maybe it was just because he was really fucking hot. With a quick, obvious glance to his crotch (you could see the imprint of his dick through his sweatpants), you spoke clearly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He liked how forward you were, how unafraid you were to say what you wanted. He swiped his tongue over his lips and nearly laughed at how your eyes darted downwards to watch it. “You call that beggin’?” He taunted, raising his arm to press the tip of his gun against your chin to tilt your head up. “Do it right.”

A shudder ran through your body at his demand, leaving a trail of heat that settled right into your groin. You felt hyper aware of everything—of the cool metal on your skin, of the faint gunpowder scent emanating from the barrel, of your heartbeat thrumming so hard you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Oh, please, Mr. Fushiguro,” you whined, staring up at him through your lashes pleadingly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together as you squirmed, attempting to provide your hardening dick friction. “Please fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this whole time. I need it so much.”

“Well, aren’t you a confident little thing,” he remarked with a thoughtful hum, carefully inspecting your reactions. “But what makes you think I won’t just kill you and get my money?”

“Because you haven’t yet,” you replied with a smug undertone in your voice, like you figured him all out. Although, when he dragged his gun up towards your lips, a brief wave of fear washed down your body, settling deep in your chest.

“Really? That’s all you’re going off of?” He tilted his head, watching you through the dark curtain of hair that fell over his piercing eyes. “That’s cute.” He held his finger over the trigger, teasingly flexing it before relaxing just as fast. He found it funny how your confident facade slipped away the moment you remembered that you weren’t talking to a casual friend—that the Sorcerer Killer himself was staring you down the barrel of his gun. But, apparently, that’s what got you all hot and bothered.

“I didn’t think you’d be this desperate.” His scarred lips curled upwards in a predatory grin as he nudged the tip of his gun against your mouth, prying it open. You fought the urge to squirm when he pushed it further, jaw straining, but you tried your best to comply. “You seemed all mysterious ‘n’ unassuming back at the bar. What happened to that? Got me feelin’ like I got the wrong person with the way you’re actin’.”

You tried to shake your head while a garbled noise left your throat, but he kept you firmly in place as he pushed it as far as he could go. Even as you squinted, it was hard not to practically eyefuck him where you sat. Your watery irises trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the bulging veins that patterned over his forearm, dipping back underneath his skin before reappearing in his thick bicep. His shirt did little to hide his chest, squeezing in just the right places to render any woman jealous.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from wandering down, down towards his legs, zeroing in on the dick print he so obviously flaunted like a trophy. Your mouth watered, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. You slid your tongue over the rough metal, imagining that it was his cock stretching your eager throat wide open; imagining the salty taste of his precum, of the scent of his musk, of—

“My eyes’re up here, pretty boy,” he interrupted, pressing the gun up against your palate to snap you out of your stupor and avert your gaze. “If you’re gonna deny bein’ a slut, at least act like it.”

He pulled it out of your drooling mouth, wiping the string of saliva off on your cheek before setting it on the floor with a dull thud. Your face was messy, chest heaving up and down as you panted, expectantly waiting for him to continue like a lost puppy.

“You’re so damn easy,” he commented teasingly, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. It throbbed under his touch, leaking precum and straining against the fabric. “If I’da known all it took for you to get all nice ‘n’ compliant f’me was a dick down your throat, I’d have my money by now.” There was a hint of honesty to his voice that you couldn’t even find in yourself to protest.

“Please…” you breathlessly whined, trying to writhe out of your binds, but it was tied too tightly around your body to free yourself. “I want it. Stop messing with me.”

“I know.” He reached down to shift you onto your knees, steadying you with a firm hand on the back of your neck. You watched him slide his free hand under his pants to pull his thick cock out, eyes fixated on the leaking tip. He wrapped it around the shaft and leisurely jerked himself off, the wet sounds of his precum sliding along the shaft mixing in with your labored breaths and his quiet groans.

Finally, after what felt like decades, he shuffled forward just enough to press himself against your lips, finding little need to nudge his way inside when you so eagerly parted them for him. You let out a pleased noise at the taste of his precum, beginning to squint and fight the urge to gag when he refused to stop until your nose was buried in his pubes. He held you there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your throat bulging to accommodate his cock.

“You’re takin’ me in so easily,” he purred, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of your tongue tracing over a prominent vein, making him twitch in your mouth. “Is this what you do? Use your body to live a little longer? 'Cause I gotta say, whatever you're doin' is really payin' off."

You visibly preened at his praise, feeling your dick strain against the fabric of your pants. He let you move at your own pace, watching you hollow your cheeks and slide and bob your head up and down. He was thick and long and made your jaw ache in the best way, utterly infatuated with his scent, with his taste, with the way he let you go at your own pace—but you knew better. You knew that he could easily take that control away from you and fuck your face.

You kind of wished he did, honestly.

With a bit of effort, you pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily. Your voice was shaky but it was firm, determined to get what you wanted. “Fuck my throat,” you demanded, staring up at him through your lashes. He gave you an intrigued smile, clearly pleased with your eagerness to be used like a toy.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum,” he warned. He hardly gave you enough time to reply before he held the base of his cock, gently tapping the tip against your slick lips to get you to open up wide again, obviously unconcerned with your response. “But if you really insist, then who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

He adjusted his stance, towering over you with both his hands atop your head. He allowed you to take a deep breath before pulling you to him just as he shoved his cock back down your throat. You were still unused to him, nearly choking at the sudden movement, feeling tears pool along your lashes. You could’ve sworn his musk was an actual aphrodisiac. It was all you could smell, filling up your nostrils to render your mind a pathetically fuzzy mess.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he drawled out, staring you down with enough heat in his eyes to practically glue you to the floor. You weren’t even sure if you’d get up and leave if he gave you the chance to. Probably not, frankly. Not with the way his strong hands so easily kept you in place, nor with how he strained your jaw—infatuated with every inch and vein and his salty precum. “Take it all, baby.”

He chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “But I didn’t need to tell you that, huh? Is this muscle memory takin’ over?” Despite his words, his brows were furrowed, focused on thrusting his hips, stoking the rising fire in his abdomen. His rhythmic groans were music to your ears, mixing in with your wet gags and the faint sound of his balls slapping your chin.

“Fuck,” he panted, taking one hand off to wipe your hair off of your forehead and get a look at your watery, unfocused eyes. It sent a heat down his spine that made his cock jolt at the sight of your blissed out face. “You’re so damn tight… gonna make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” He grunted, digging his fingertips into your skin. “Y’think it’s what you deserve?” For a moment, you were worried he was going to stop. But he didn’t really, instead he kept you still, holding you at a distance to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass out. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

You blinked your tears away and looked up at him, squinting, confused when he hadn’t let you go yet. It took you a second to piece together what he wanted of you, and felt the burn of embarrassment trickle down your spine and settle into your chest when you did. He wanted you to beg with his cock in your mouth. You were quiet, unsure how to respond without choking and coughing into next week.

“C’mon,” he persisted, his scarred lips lifting in a grin. “I know a little slut like you can do it.”

With a deep breath, you attempted to get your words out through muffled sounds that very vaguely sounded like sentences. It was humiliating—letting him use you to entertain himself like this, but it was an exhilarating feeling that made your cock twitch and throb, aching to be touched.

“Sorry, what was that?” He questioned mockingly, expression laced with faux concern. “Do you mind repeating that?”

You paused, staring up at him pleadingly, but when that didn’t seem to work, you tried again. Drool seeped out the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. It was hard to breathe and form coherent thoughts. Your cock throbbed and ached to be touched, finding your pants to be uncomfortably suffocating.

“Was that so hard?” He questioned rhetorically as he tugged your face close again, savoring the feeling of your throat squeezing around his dick before beginning to fuck it. He groaned when he felt you run your tongue over the veins, the vibrations of your voice sending heat through his body that he eagerly chased.

He swore under his breath, panting, focused on the tightening coil in his abdomen. “Shit—I’m about to—fuck—cum.”

You moaned when you felt him still, pressing your face into his pelvis to make sure every drop of his cum went down your throat. It was difficult to swallow, letting your eyes flutter shut until he was finished. Your vision was a bit blurry when he finally decided to pull away, leaving you gasping and panting.

“I want—I need you to fuck me,” you slurred, desire flashing brightly in your eyes. Your voice was raw and hoarse and raspy, but there was no hiding your desperation. “Please. I need it so bad it fucking hurts. Please, Fushiguro.”

“I just got done cumming down your throat and you’re already askin’ for more?” He chuckled condescendingly, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb along your chin to gather the mix of saliva cum. He brought it to your lips, watching you wrap them around his finger and suck the fluids off his skin. “You needy whore. You’re lucky I’m not in any rush right now.”

With a swift hand, he untied the rope holding your legs together to lead you to a different spot, confident that you wouldn’t make a break for it. Not that you could nor wanted to, anyways.

The mirror before you was dusty and cracked, but it still served its purpose well. He kicked your legs apart and brought you back down to your knees, lowering himself behind you with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You nearly came on the spot when he squeezed your aching cock, hips jerking needily, but he let go in the blink of an eye to unzip your pants and bring them down far enough to expose your ass. He brought two fingers to your lips and dipped them inside your mouth with his other hand, coating them with your saliva rather haphazardly.

He swiftly brought them back down, running them over your balls and perineum teasingly, grinning at your sharp intake of breath. He slid the pads of them over your hole, just barely pushing them through to feel the resistance give way before pulling them back out.

“I swear to god, I’ll—“ you tried to threaten, only to be cut off by a whorish moan that Toji managed to tear from your lips when he shoved his fingers inside you. They pressed against your prostate, firm and unrelenting, rubbing it just the slightest bit to keep you reeling. The sudden stretch fucking burned as you clamped down on him like a vice, wincing and groaning.

“You’ll what?” He urged, eyes fixated on your face, watching every single muscle twitch, noticing the way your cock spurt a fresh stream of precum down the throbbing shaft. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now. What were you saying?”

He thrust his fingers in and out slowly, emphasizing the wet squelching sounds of your asshole. You could feel his breaths brushing against your heated skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that ended in your fingertips. Your knees ached and your arms were growing numb from being tied back for so long but you figured you could ignore it for a little while longer if it meant you’d get what you wanted. His dick, namely.

“I’ll—agh, fuck—I’ll…” you trailed off, hardly able to form a coherent sentence with the way he massaged your prostate so perfectly. “Just… just shut up,” you muttered finally, breathless and unfocused as you stared at the spot you connected from the reflection in the old mirror. A subtle feeling of embarrassment settled in your heaving chest when you heard the raspy sound of his chuckle.

“Is that it?” He taunted, locking eyes with you. His free hand slid upwards, teasing your nipples through your shirt to watch you squirm. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I’m startin’ to question whether or not you’re really some hotshot Sorcerer.”

It was hard to refute him when you looked the way you did—all messy and disheveled and desperate, hard for the man supposed to kill you. You were completely unlike yourself hardly half an hour ago, but you barely gave a shit. How could you when the hottest man you’ve ever seen was behind you, fingerfucking your eager hole? Chances like these don’t come often to you, that’s for sure.

You shivered and moaned, leaning back against his chest. Your hips practically moved on their own accord, thighs flexing to keep yourself upright as you tried to fuck yourself on his thick digits. Toji could see the way your eyes unfocused and glossed over with understimulated tears, frustrated and horribly pent-up.

He gave your prostate a quick jab, firm enough to intensify the heated coil in your belly, but too fast to savor. He wasn’t planning on giving in to you so easily as he avoided your sensitive spot, instead moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“God—stop doing that,” you pleaded. You felt like an open book, unable to stop yourself from furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance or conceal the painstakingly obvious glint of hunger in your pupil-blown irises.

“Quit whinin’ and maybe I’ll consider it,” he murmured gruffly, enraptured by the way you writhed and squirmed and looked just downright pathetic. You both knew he wouldn’t, not when all the others he’s fucked couldn’t hold a candle to your pliant little body. You knew why he was there in the first place, but still, you remained there on your knees even when he untied them.

You nearly let out a sob when he curled his fingers again, offering you the barest of touches to your prostate that sent liquid fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, please,” you begged, yet again. You didn’t know much of this you could take or how long it’d be until he caved. God, was it so much to ask for a man to fuck you stupid?!

“I want your cock inside me so bad, fucking me fast ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep,” you slurred, hardly able to maintain even the barest shred of dignity. You looked into his deep, green eyes through the mirror’s reflection, hoping he’d relent.

“Yeah? Y’want me in this slutty pussy?” He purred, sliding his slick fingers out of your twitching hole to give it a sharp slap. You jolted just as a spurt of precum slid down your hard cock, leaking onto your clothed, heaving abdomen. He chuckled breathlessly as he leisurely rubbed your puffy rim with the pad of a finger. “You should’ve just said so.”

He wiped his fingers off on the back of your shirt, offering you an oblivious shrug when you glared at him through the mirror. Your knees ached when he had you lean forward a little, placing your more of your weight on the poor joints as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off before tapping the tip of his dick on your asshole one, two, three quick times.

It felt like he was splitting you apart when he finally decided to push through after spitting on your hole, groaning at the way you squeezed around him tighter than a damn virgin. It hurt like a bitch. Of course it did—you made him rush and he was using less than ideal lube, but, God, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

You watched him lean back a little and hold you by the ropes binding your arms together, rolling his hips experimentally, only to grind his cockhead into your prostate so deliciously you saw stars. A searing heat enveloped your body, blinding you with white that took you far too long to come down from. Opening your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them), you instantly spotted your twitching cock drooling cum onto the floor. Fuck. He didn’t even start and you came.

“That was so damn fast.” He couldn’t be bothered to stop the hint of a laugh from leaving his throat. With his free hand, he reached down and gave your throbbing dick a squeeze, stroking it with a tight grip to milk out the rest of your cum.

You shuddered and trembled, biting your lip to stifle your moans. He let go to stuff two of his slick fingers in your mouth, careless with how deep he forced them in. Not that you really minded as you swirled your tongue around his skin, readily cleaning it off. You locked eyes, keeping your expression firm in a weak attempt to regain even a sliver of composure when he suddenly moved, giving you a quick, harsh thrust that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

He shifted his fingers, curling them as they pulled on your cheek, tugging at the flesh until he forces your mouth wide open. You couldn’t stop your tongue from lolling out, jaw slack as you drooled and whined and cried every time he rammed his thick cock into your eager fuckhole. He was relentless—pounding into you fast and hard and deep, just like you begged for so prettily.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises, arms flexing to yank you back as soon as he pulled out. “Your pussy’s so damn tight,” he panted, brows furrowed in focus, relishing in the sound of his hips slapping your ass and your whorish moans. “M’gonna make sure your messy little cunt remembers my cock by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” you nodded, hands itching to grab onto his biceps, his back, something to ground yourself while he churned your insides to mush. It was nigh impossible to think or breathe or speak, but it felt so fucking good.

“Awh, look at yourself,” he cooed, his voice slightly jumpy as he let go of your mouth to roughly pat your cheek, forcing you out of your stupor to make you stare at your reflection. “Are you out of it already? Should I stop?” He questioned, his raspy voice laced with faux concern.

“No! N-No,” you stammered, finding it difficult to comprehend what he was saying until moments later, alerted by the word “stop”. “Don’t stop! Ohh, oh god, please don’t stop!”

You’re so, so sensitive and so full, and you can feel him losing his rhythm. His cock is heavy in your stomach and you swear through your addled brain it’s weighing you down as a trail of precum connects your heated bodies together, frothing between your thighs and his balls.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, gritting his teeth. He could feel the burning coil in his abdomen intensify with each passing second, and suddenly he’s speeding up, pistoning into you with loud and sloppy thrusts. His green eyes are locked on your swollen and puffy hole sucking him in with a vice grip, watching his cock slide in and out, in and out, over and over again until you’re cumming hard, shaking and convulsing.

“That’s it,” he growls, the sound low and deep. It went straight into your stomach, sparks lighting up under your skin as your hips jerk, unsure whether you want to endure the building overstimulation or move away. “M’gonna cum so deep inside your pretty little pussy I’ll knock you up,” he murmured in your ear, dragging a canine down your neck to clamp his teeth down on the flesh. “Y’want that? To be my breeding bitch?”

You sobbed, unable to answer, but he didn’t need one. Not when your body spoke for you.

He fucked the air out of your lungs one, two, three more times, feeling his balls tighten until he finally came, spilling his cum so deep inside you, you were sure it’d stay there for weeks. You moaned, savoring the warmth that spread through your body with each spurt of his cum that coated your velvety insides, trying to catch your breath before you had to move.

Toji sighed in satisfaction, pulling out after a few moments. He watched your fucked-out hole clench around nothing as it leaked with his seed, spreading one of your asscheeks to get a better view before giving it a final pat.

You didn’t realize he cut the ropes holding your arms behind your back until you nearly fell face-first onto the floor, catching yourself with your numb hands.

“Ow… fuck,” you cursed at the sharp stinging sensation that ran up your arms, shaking them uselessly in an attempt to restore the blood flow faster.

“You were better than I thought you’d be,” he hummed, getting up to fix his clothes. He grabbed his handgun from off the ground, holding it against his shoulder as he stared you down. “But you have three days. Make ‘em count.”

You weren’t oblivious to know that he was giving you a three-day recovery period before he began hunting you again. Even then, you couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from running through your spine at the prospect of seeing him again.

You grinned, breathless and shaky but confident nonetheless. It was unlikely he’d fuck you once he found you, but a man could dream. "I will."

cross-posted on ao3

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part nine.

Bahrain is just as beautiful as it was the first time. There’s a palpable energy to the streets of the city in the days leading up to the Grand Prix, and you find yourself filled with anticipation and excitement.

A lot has happened in the year it’s been since you were last here━ enough that it almost feels like a lifetime ago━ but the ups and downs have culminated into something pretty great.

The night of your birthday, when you and all of Lando’s friends had crammed yourselves into Lando’s living room and cheered as the clock turned midnight to herald in the new year, Oscar had pulled you in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. It hadn’t gone further than that, perhaps out of respect for your earlier breakdown and the still tentative thing between the two of you, but nonetheless just the feeling of his lips against yours had made you feel alive.

It had reminded you a bit of your first kiss outside the hotel, but instead of awkwardly dancing around it after the fact, you’d woken up the following morning with him wrapped around you, and this time you’d allowed yourself to savor it. He’d woken up to you running your fingers through his hair, and then you’d spent the morning cuddling beneath the sheets and talking things out before Lando had, eventually, burst into the room with his hand over his eyes, demanding the two of you “get decent” so you could all get lunch.

This weekend will mark two months of being together, and it feels surreal.

“You look insane right now,” Logan announces out of the blue from where he sits across from you in the booth. The restaurant you’re in is relatively close to the hotel where you’re staying, but with it still being nearly a week until race day, it’s practically empty so early into the afternoon, which makes his voice seem louder in the quiet peacefulness around you.

“What?” You glance up from your phone and raise an eyebrow. He isn’t even looking at you. He’s looking at his own phone, thumb sweeping across the screen while he picks at the few remains of his food mindlessly with his fork.

“You’re smiling at your phone and it’s making you look insane,” he elaborates nonchalantly, like it’s common sense despite him still not even looking up from whatever video he’s watching.

You scoff, “You aren’t even looking.”

He finally lifts his gaze, but it’s only to make a face at you. His features scrunches up, exaggerating his disgust with twisted lips and narrowed eyes. “I don’t need to. It’s like an aura. I can feel it from here. It’s gross.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. Ever since getting with Oscar, he’s been getting more and more dramatic with his feigned disgust, and now it’s mostly just a bit he thinks is hilarious to pull out every time you’re even mildly entertained by something pertaining to your boyfriend. It would probably still be funny to you if you weren’t almost always texting him, or keeping up with the McLaren Instagram account’s updates of his training, and therefore almost always mildly entertained. “I’m so terribly sorry you have to deal with your sister being happy.”

He rolls his eyes back at you, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips and you know his act is falling apart. “Are you and Oscar gonna meet up later?”

“We’re trying to schedule things,” you answer with a shrug. Oscar’s flight got in late last night, too late for him and his team to get around to the typical obligations expected of him, so he’s spent all of this morning getting caught up and according to your current text chain with him he’s only just been released and given free reign to do as he wishes. “I’m texting him about it right now.”

“That tracks.”

You raise an eyebrow once more, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It’s Logan’s turn to raise an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe you’re really asking that. “Whenever you text him you get all disgustingly happy.” He scrunches up his face again. “You’re like a real life Hallmark couple. I half expect the two of you to move to some small town with a coincidentally holiday themed name in the middle of nowhere. And there’s a Christmas tree farm, or a reindeer lodge, or something.” He ends his mini tirade with a forced and exagerated shiver.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you.”

He deadpans. “Everytime I see you two together I find myself disturbed by the sheer imensity of your joy.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I love you too.”

It’s only Monday, which gives you a few days before things start getting underway at the track. It also means you’ve got a decent amount of time to share between Logan, who’s grown increasingly grumpier at the idea of you potentially switching aliegences to McLaren, and Oscar, who’s just happy to see you whenever he can.

When you’d left Monaco a few days after the party, it had been with the knowledge that this new and still fragile relationship was going to have to withstand the stressors of long distance. You’ve called one another nearly every day since then to try and replicate some semblance of normalcy, but time zone differences often saw one of you getting into bed while the other was getting out of it━ at least, when he was back in Melbourne making the most of the time he had with his family. Things got slightly easier when he was called back to England to start pre-season training and testing, but it also meant lots of meetings and PR events that kept him away from the phone and left him exhausted by the time he was finished.

Needless to say, this is the first chance you have to see him again in person and it feels like torture knowing the only thing keeping you apart is a few city blocks.

“Real talk though, have him around to the hotel,” Logan speaks up again, just as the waitress comes and clears your plates away.

You spare her a smile and a quiet thank you, and then turn back to him. “Why? You and Dalton already gave him the shovel talk over videocall.”

“Just because you two are ‘involved’━” he says it like it’s some sort of bogus conspiracy theory, “━doesn’t mean I can’t still hang out with my friend.”

“I thought you were disturbed by the sheer imensity of our joy when you see us together?”

“Okay and?” He makes another face at you, but it’s less like he’s disgusted by the reminder of you and Oscar’s relationship, and more like he’s annoyed that you’ve used his own words against him. “I’m disturbed by Alex’s taste in music too, but I still put up with it when we’re in the car together.”

The two of you fall into peals of laughter.

INSTAGRAM.

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yourusername he loves me AND my crippling hat addiction

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logansargeant hm, interesting how one is blue and none are orange 🤔

↳ yourusername hm, interesting how i know where you sleep 🤔

mclaren Looks like you’re missing some papaya Y/N! We can fix that 😁🧡

↳ williamsracing Sorry! She’s already ours 😊💙

↳ yourusername omg guysss don’t fight over meee 🫣

user RAHHHH USA USA WTF IS A KILOMETERRRRR 🦅🦅

user need me a boyf who buys me hats

user guyssss it HAS to be oscar

↳ user what?? no it’s literally lando did you even see the comments between the two of them from a month ago?? she went to monaco with him??

↳ user y’all are crazy fr it’s obvi a nobody and y/n is just milking the drama from ppl thinking it’s a driver bc it means more interactions on her posts and therefore it’s better for her career

↳ user i think it’s max!!

↳ user what.

user LIVE LAUGH LOVE Y/N’S HAT COLLECTION

landonorris crippling indeed

↳ yourusername i’m trying my hardest 😔

↳ landonorris the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem

oscarpiastri 🧢

↳ yourusername x10

Oscar’s running his hands through your hair and you’re flipping through the channels on the hotel TV when the subject comes up. There’s nothing that’s really catching your interest, and half of it is in languages you don’t know, but just sitting here and enjoying Oscar’s presence is enough to stave off the boredom. Logan's been gone for just over an hour, having left to go meet up with Alex for some Williams promotional content, and you’ve been drifting a bit when your boyfriend speaks up from behind you, asking, “Are you gonna visit McLaren hospitality this weekend?”

You pause your surfing, landing on a cooking show that’s in French. His fingers are still tangled in your hair, but he’s momentarily stopped too.

“Do you want me to come to McLaren hospitality?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’re leaning back against his chest. “Because I will,” you hurriedly add, “if you want me to. But it’ll just add fuel to the fire and further encourage the speculation online about which one of you I’m with.”

“I do think it’s funny to see people go full detective mode in your comments,” Oscar smiles down at you. He looks shy, hesitant almost in the way his eyes flicker across your face. He clears his throat nervously, “But I was kind of thinking that maybe you could visit as my girlfriend. Publicly.”

You sit up immediately and turn to face him, ignoring that his fingers catch on your hair as you move. He looks just as surprised by your sudden movement as you feel by his sudden announcement. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, if you’d rather not━” he starts, uncertain.

“No!” You interrupt, reaching out to take his face in your hands and silencing him. “I would absolutely love that, but are you sure you want the attention this will get you? We’ve been lucky with avoiding the negativity so far, but you know that it’ll come the moment we announce it.”

He brings his hands up and places them on top of where yours rest, and then he interlaces your fingers and pulls your hands away so he can speak again. There’s a soft smile on his face and a gentleness in his eyes that you’ve come to recognize as a look that’s exclusive to you and you alone. “I want the world to know who my heart belongs to.”

A grin tugs at your lips, and then you’re falling into his arms with a laugh.

It feels good knowing you can do this whenever you want. Just last year you hadn’t even realized you’d wanted something like this with Oscar, but then the kiss had happened and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it━ about wanting more and not being able to have it. It had been torture, honestly, pining after him like a lovesick school girl, too afraid to make the first move and risk the balance of it all.

You’re still embarrassed by what all had needed to happen before things had been cleared up, and part of you still kicks yourself for not just taking that leap and going for it, especially when it would have given you moments like this, wrapped in his arms, so much sooner.

“I know we’ve already talked about it, but I was really worried that you would hate me for kissing you that night,” Oscar murmurs against the top of your head, as if he can read your thoughts. “I thought that you had only kissed me back because you were, like, too drunk to know better. And then, I realized what I’d done, and I pulled away before it could go any further. And then you never mentioned it, and I figured you wanted to just forget about it, so I never mentioned it either.”

You shift just enough to let your arms drape over his shoulders, and then you let your fingers tangle in his hair the same way his had been in yours. You scratch at his head for a moment, letting his words settle before you say, “I thought you’d only kissed me because you got caught up in the emotions of it all, and then when you never mentioned it I thought it’s because you regretted it, or thought it was a mistake, and you just wanted to forget it. I really wish I would’ve just gotten over my fear and talked to you about it.”

You feel his heartbeat against you where you’re leaned up against his chest. It’s strong and steady, and it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever felt.

“It would’ve been nice to celebrate in other ways after I podiumed in Japan,” he adds suggestively, laughing when you pull one of your hands back to swat at his arm.

“Podium again this year and maybe we can celebrate in those other ways,” you whisper against his neck.

He groans, “Well now you’re just being mean.”

You pull away from his grip, an innocent smile on your face. “I have no idea what you mean, babe.”

INSTAGRAM.

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tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri the luckiest guy and the prettiest girl

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yourusername the prettiest* guy and the luckiest* girl

↳ landonorris literally throwing up rn 🤮

↳ yourusername mind your own business 😒

↳ landonorris mInD yOuR oWn BuSiNeSs 😒 you made it my business when you posted that disgustingly sweet comment where i could see

user OMG IT WAS OSCAR ALL ALONG

user Y/NOSCAR NATION RISE UP AND REJOICE 🙌🙌🙌

user we literally clocked it from a mile away

↳ user i know damn well you were in the comments saying it was lando don’t even try and pretend otherwise

landonorris so glad ppl can stop thinking i’m with your girlfriend now mate

↳ oscarpiastri it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a gf of your own

↳ landonorris why am i taking shots out of nowhere??

user this is literally my roman empire

mclaren Welcome to the McLaren team, Y/N! Looking forward to hopefully seeing you in some papaya around the paddock 🧡

↳ logansargeant pls she’s all i have left you can’t take her too

user WISHING THEM THE BEST

user i don’t understand why oscar would be with someone who willingly flirts with other men?? like is that not hoe behavior?? make it make sense ffs

↳ user lando and y/n are friends as this post proves. the fact that you saw friendly banter as flirting says more about you and how you view ppl than it says about either of them, and i think you might need to look inward before you can judge someone else. and even if it had been flirting, we don’t know when y/n and oscar got together, which means it’s entirely possible that she was single when she was “flirting” with lando which wouldn’t be cheating at all.

↳ user they’re just butthurt that oscar would never spare them a glance

user been here from the start and i gotta say this is more euphoric than any award could ever be

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tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername been waiting for the moment to pull out these bad boys and now i can 🤭 thx babe love you 😘

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user y/n 🤝 mclaren admin

oscarpiastri so this is a game you want to play

↳ logansargeant i got you mate don’t worry my arsenal is at your disposal

↳ yourusername WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

user y/n is THE wag pls she’s gonna be feeding us so well

user MANIFESTING MCLAREN WINS FOR 2024 💪😤

↳ user MANIFESTING WILLIAMS WINS FOR 2024

user wait so like gen who is she gonna root for???

landonorris you’re doing god’s work today y/n

↳ yourusername someone had to give the ppl what they want 🫡

user couple of the century right here folks

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23 @thatoneembarrasingmoment

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks! the ending to this lovely story! i will probably do a few little blurbs for them eventually, but in the meantime this is where we leave them. thank you for reading!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris #social media au

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lizablackthorn · 1 year

Text

pov:you’re friends with f1 drivers camping/hiking/zip lining editon 🏕️🚴⛰️

lewishamilton added to their story

landonorris added to their story

yourusername added to their story

mickschumacher added to their story

lando.jpg just posted a photo

liked by carlossainz55,maxverstappen1,lewishamilton and 455.384 others

lando.jpg Digital diary of the 17th day

yourusername: becoming a mermaid with @lewishamilton

georgerussell63:On theatres this summer

y/usernamefan: Why @yourusername is working in a inflatable pool😭

yourusername: Lando was kind enough to make me feel like at vacation🙏🏻

landonorris:but you WERE in vacation?

yourusername:i’m not a f1 driver i have REAL work to do (sarcasm if you didn’t get it)

landonorris: i’m not the stupid one that’s charles

charles_leclerc: how this turned and come back at me?

charles_leclerx16fan: What is Charles doing on the tree???

lewishamilton: @yourusername.told him there was a bear coming

alex_albon:who won the card game? I put my money in @yourusername

yourusername: And you’re winning 100 bucks🏆

sharlmarchervepercevalleclerc: thank you for shirtless Charles

yourusername: somebody is stealing your rep @georgerussell63.👀 and i loved your username🤌🏻

georgerussell63:don’t do this mate i can’t compete with you @charles_leclerc

alex_albon: take it @charles_leclerc. Not because he can’t compete with you(he definitely can) i cannot handle another shirtless George.

charles_leclerc: for your sanity mate. I’m gladly taking his reputation. Wait for the shirtless pics

yourusername: I definitely wouldn’t complain like rest of the world…

yourusername just posted a photo

liked by charles_leclerc,pierregasly,danielriccardo and 49.937 others

yourusername these are only sneak peeks from the directors cut. Stay tuned for the others.

charles_leclerc: it was really entertaining to make fun of @landonorris. “Was” don’t let it fool you. You’re on my hands for the rest of your life

landonorris: Okay great mate. Now think about the last week. You’re on MY hands

f1: 👀

danielriccardo: Why did both of you made me dirty @landonorris and @yourusername? It’s time to take out my camera.

yourusername: sorry for not being talented as you’re at taking pics😭

mickschumacher: Roscoe was my favorite for the whole time❤️ @lewishamilton

lewishamilton: Roscoe loves you so much❤️

user3748392: no but i cannot over the story where Charles was snuggling yourusername😭❤️ it was so cute

paddockclubgirls: i though i was the only one😭

lastlaplando: who is he holding the stick like he doesn��t wanna lost?

yourusername: Charles! He genuinely didn’t wanna lost.

charlosthebest: sorry for shipping you but I ship you so bad😭

carlossainz55: I know it would’ve been a bad idea to go back to Spain. I’m sorry for missing the opportunity to make fun of lando

charles_leclerc:he was hilarious mate. You should’ve heard his screams

landonorris: mate if i were you i wouldn’t go overboard..

f1drivers: pls tell us i can’t keep on my life without not knowing that.

landonorris:🤐

sirlewishamiltonfan44: Lewis is reaallyy fine man. I love him so bad.

lh44team: and him with Roscoe. I can’t- double the effect😭

yourusername: i was so happy @lewishamilton being there for this week. I really love him too🥹

lewishamilton: my sister from another mother💜

lh44team: they’re so cute i’m gonna cry😭

sirlewishamiltonandlordperceval: The only thing i can see is how beautiful the view in the fourth picture. Definitely not Lewis’naked back and Charles’tits.

yourusername:HELP💀

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inkdrinkerworld · 6 months

Note

high!reader getting shy around dealer!remus and remus thinks it’s hilarious bc they’re like trying to be cool but also obviously ogling remus bc he’s just so fucking pretty

It’s only entertaining to Remus the way you turn bashful under his gaze when you’re high.

Only he thinks that the way you weigh your every word before uttering them is charming.

He’s the only one that thinks it’s cute when you tuck your chin to your chest, legs tucked similarly under your bum as you speak to him with soft, almost timid words.

It’s why when you reach for the blunt with grabby hands when you see him that he passes it over with a smile.

It’s not often, but when the chance arises where Remus can make you fluster; he’ll take it with greedy hands.

“Um, Rem,” you start as you start to feel the effects of the weed set in.

“Pretty girl,” he says, eyes low as they look at you. Remus doesn’t miss the way your hands flex on your thighs at the nickname- nor does he miss the way your cheeks puff out to obscure the heat rising in your face.

His gaze is heavy and it makes your head cloud even more, your tongue heavy and mouth dry the longer you stare at him.

You can’t help but notice every minute detail about Remus and the fact that he knows you’re doing it too is embarrassing (at least to you.)

‘Just ask him the question. Don’t trip over your words, speak slowly and clearly and it’ll be fine!’ You coach yourself mentally.

Taking a deep breath you ask, “Do you think it’a cool if I get another one? Another blunt I mean.”

Remus smiles, more like an impish grin more than anything, at the way your question slurs and your usage of ‘cool.’

The dance you both dance is the same every time and every time Remus is more and more enamored by you.

“It’d be so cool, dove. Jus’ let me know when you’re ready for it okay?” He knows it’s a little evil, considering the fact that you’re easily flustered right now, but his hand falls to your exposed thigh, patting it and then squeezing at the flesh before he leans in and plants a kiss to your cheek.

Remus ignores (verbally that is) the squeak you let out at the action and his closeness. “I’m gonna go get you a water. Sit pretty for me till I get back, dovey.” He definitely feels his pulse race when you hum and it’s pitch is all over the place.

#dealer!remus #dealer!remus lupin #remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x high!reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader

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rendezvouz-fling · 1 year

Text

Astro Observations #20

• Is it just me or do most saturnian moons (Aqua/Cap) tend to grow up with single mothers who only care about making money and having multiple boyfriends? Lmao.

• I feel bad for Gemini risings with Aries mercuries because they’re so genuine and they might be very chatty but it’s their biggest love language.🤎 I think this might also apply to just about every other Gemini rising too!

• I feel bad for Aries moons with Libra mercuries/risings because yes they can be a little hot headed but they won’t be flat out bold and they might beat around the bush a lot! On the other hand though when they’re really arguing with somebody they might switch to intellect and surprisingly demolish that person.✋🏽

• People with mercury at a Fire degree (1, 5, 9, 13, 17, 21, 23, 29) love to exaggerate things! Calling myself out too, chile!😩😂

• Virgo suns with Cancer venuses and Leo mars can be very sweet and caring but also very scorning, abrasive and wants themselves/their partner & kids to look/dress their best almost all the time! Pretty much the always picture-ready type moms.

• You better believe that even if a Sagittarius moon won’t say it they might feel hurt and start detaching until they’re completely gone out of your life and you’re left wondering what went wrong.

• Tbh idk why but Libra mercuries also be out here saying mean, out-of-pocket stuff just not normally in people’s faces so maybe that’s why their friends might not take them seriously.

• Whereas Aries mercuries probably have a reputation of arrogance and downright disrespectfulness but they can also be very nice especially if you’re close with them. You’ll notice they just like to cuss for fun lol.

• Scorpio mercuries need to stop being on interrogation mode!😭

• Gemini mercuries be telling some of the funniest stories and their facial expressions/hand gestures make it even more funnier than it has to be.😭🤣

• Dear Cancer mercuries, you guys are so thoughtful and caring Ilysm!

• Capricorn mercuries, you’re not boring and I love how also detail oriented you are!

• Can I just say Cap mercuries so be out here clowning too! 😂 I have a close friend who’s a Cap sun & mercury and she says funny things often, she just has a very articulate way of speaking but besides that she’s hilarious!🤣

• I recently noticed people with Air/Earth placements tend to have speech impediments and other stuff. E.g. my little sister is a Virgo sun/moon & Libra stellium and she can’t pronounce the letter ‘R’. I have a Gemini rising at 23 degree, Capricorn mars & other air placements and I used to have a speech impediment and developed selective muting. 💀

• Having Air/Fire placements can be such a challenge! 😭 My Aries mercury just be saying anything along with the super chatty Gemini rising but then later my Aquarius moon has a pep talk moment and makes me say “Why the fuck did I say that? Now they’re going to think I’m—” 😂😂😂

• People with harsh aspects between the sun and pluto might be known as open books but they might become self-conscious about it and have the urge to remain a mystery yet they can’t help but overshare!😭

• They might also think about it often! Like it might haunt them.💀

• Gemini venuses are soo fun!! I’d literally take these people with me if I was to go on a road trip because they’d keep me entertained and we could just goof around & talk about anything lol.

• You might also find yourself attracting/being attracted to people who’s venus sign is your rising sign!

• Pisces venus, for the sake of your own life please stop staying in toxic relationships because you fear being abandoned and think it isn’t worth it because you’ve been with this person so long—LEAVE. ✋🏽

• Cancer venus, you know I love you but sometimes you gotta stop trying to control people. 😭

• Scorpio venus, with you I feel like we’re always on the same page and see eye to eye in most things/interests.

• Capricorn venus you are literally one of the most giving venus signs! I literally love you!!<3

• Sagittarius mars men having a thing for smacking their girlfriend’s butt.🤣

• Leo mars want only the best of the best especially if there’s Taurus in the mix!

• While Libra risings might develop people pleasing tendencies, Gemini risings tend to develop social anxiety.

• I’ve seen so many Gemini suns always point out that they either have or think they have a mental illness. Especially ADHD.😨😰

• Yes Earth suns are normally very chill and grounded. But add some Air and especially Fire in the mix and they’ll be the most erratic, short tempered people you’ve seen!🙃

• Fire mercuries/mercuries at Fire degrees, how does it feel to get shouted at your whole life then gas-lighted and blamed when you turn out to be a sharp-tongue individual?

• Gemini moons and their many 1-3 Am shows in their rooms.😭 Same for Aqua and Libra moons but Gemini moons do it more often lol.

• If somebody is very generous, bold, funny, and gets pissed off/defensive very quickly then they’re an Aries dom.❤️‍🔥

• Taurus moon, why are you so stubborn?

• The best thing to hear is “Okay fine.” From an Aquarius/Taurus moon when you’ve finally got them to change their opinion that they stubbornly wouldn’t let go of lol.

• 9H moons tend to be very attached to their ideas/opinions/beliefs. I can testify😂

• I’ve noticed some 2H moons tend to stress eat?

• 7H moons looove music and fashion!💗

• 9H Aquarius moons are normally cultured people.

• Fire moons are the loyalest friends hands down. I said what I said.✋🏽❤️

• Scorpios suns with Sagittarius moons/mercuries somehow be coming up with the funniest life-stories??😭🤣

• I’ve noticed Sagittarius mercuries tend to be awesome yet underrated songwriters! E.g. Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe who wrote most of their songs😩🖤

• Say what you will but some Leo risings literally exude not only a very charming but bright aura! David Lee Roth is literally your typical Leo Rising!🦁🌞

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pucksandpower · 9 months

Text

Grid Kids: Escapades

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: everyone’s favorite grid family takes on their biggest challenge yet … an escape room

Series Masterlist

“Alright, who thought it would be a good idea to lock a bunch of F1 drivers in a room and expect them to work together to get out?” Charles grumbles, eyeing the cryptic clues scattered around the dimly lit space.

George smirks, picking up a coded message. “Well you’ve had plenty of practice trying to decipher Ferrari’s strategy lately, so maybe you’ve got an advantage here?”

The room erupts in laughter as Charles feigns a wounded expression. “Low blow, George! Do I not suffer enough already?”

Lando, fidgeting with what looks like an ancient artifact, suddenly blurts out, “Do you think this is like a button or something?” Before anyone can respond, there’s an audible snap and the artifact falls apart in his hands.

“Seriously, Lando?” Max exclaims, shaking his head in amusement. “First my trophy, now this? Hands off everything, please!”

You chuckle, patting Lando’s back consolingly. “It’s alright. Maybe breaking things is part of the puzzle?”

Lance, busy trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, adds, “At this rate, we’re never getting out of here.”

Mick, focusing on a puzzle piece, comments, “We’ve only got an hour, guys. Let’s get serious.”

Sebastian begins delegating. “Alright, George and Max, you handle the codes. Mick, Charles, focus on the physical puzzles. Lance, Lando — just ... try not to break anything else.”

As the room buzzes with activity, you can’t help but think that this is one of the best ideas you’ve had in a while. It’s hilarious watching these fiercely competitive drivers work together in a situation that doesn’t involve cars and tracks.

After a series of (mostly) successful problem-solving attempts, a loud buzzer sounds, indicating you’re out of time. The doors swing open, revealing a grinning staff member.

“You were only one clue away!” she exclaims, clapping. “Not bad for a first attempt!”

Max looks around the room, a smirk forming. “Well, if Lando didn’t break that artifact, maybe we would’ve made it.”

Lando throws his hands up defensively. “Hey! I added character to the room.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, making their way out. Another day, another adventure — this one off the track.

***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sebastian mutters, amusement evident in his eyes, as he steps into the living room. There are strings hanging from the ceiling, makeshift locks on the furniture, and “cryptic” clues pinned everywhere, like Look UNDER the couch, accompanied by a not-so-subtle arrow pointing downwards.

You, equally surprised and amused, chuckle. “What in the world happened here?”

Charles steps forward, barely containing his laughter. “Welcome to the Grand Prix Escape Room! Guaranteed to be at least 90% more escape-able than the one we failed at.”

George adds, pointing to a padlocked fridge, “I did the food clues. Trust me, they’re the most challenging.”

Max chimes in, “And Lando ... well, we didn’t let him touch anything breakable this time.”

Lando mock-pouts, “One little accident and suddenly I’m the family menace.”

Lance hands you a paper that reads The KEY to success is WHERE you eat BREAKFAST. He grins, “That’s my contribution. Top tier clue, right?”

Mick has a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I suggest you look in very obvious places. We wouldn’t want this to be too hard.”

As you and Sebastian navigate through the hilariously straightforward challenges — like the “hidden” key taped directly next to the padlocked fridge or the note on the oven saying THIS IS NOT A CLUE, just wanted to remind you we have pie — it becomes clear that this isn’t about the challenge at all.

It’s about laughter, family, and the simple joy of being together.

After an entertaining fifteen minutes, which involves Sebastian dramatically pretending to struggle with a code that's simply “1234,” you successfully escape.

Mick raises a toast with room temperature champagne (they forgot to place it in the fridge before it was padlocked), “To the greatest escape artists in the world!”

You laugh, “And to the best, most creative grid kids in the universe!”

***

You wake up to the soft chimes of your alarm, stretching lazily before noticing an envelope on your bedside table. Scrawled on it in mismatched rainbow crayons is Mission: Breakfast Heist.

Opening the note, you read:

Dear Y/N and Seb,

Your breakfast has been stolen! To get it back, follow the clues and embark on a thrilling adventure. Also, no cheating by ordering takeout!

The Breakfast Bandits (aka your grid kids)

Amused, you head downstairs, following a trail of strategically placed toast crumbs. In the kitchen, you find another note taped to the coffee machine: To get your morning brew, tell us a joke that’s new!

Sebastian, rubbing sleep from his eyes, joins you and declares, “Why did the coffee file a police report? It got mugged!” Mick appears from behind you, making both of you jump, and hands you two cups of coffee before backing away silently.

Chuckling, you move on to find that on the fridge, instead of a padlock, there’s a touchpad with a question on its digital display: What’s hot yet cool at the same time?

You ponder it for a moment, thinking of all the possible answers. Sebastian, catching on to the playful challenge set by the grid kids, smirks and says, “It’s the Iceman, isn’t it?”

You both laugh, with you playfully nudging Sebastian, “I always knew you thought Kimi was hot.”

Entering K-I-M-I on the touchpad, the fridge beeps in agreement and swings open, revealing a lavish breakfast spread and a note that reads: Breakfast is served! We might have kept it under lock and key but only to make it special. Enjoy!

From the doorway, the “Breakfast Bandits” applaud, their faces beaming with mischief.

Lance grins, “Took you long enough! And Seb, never knew you had a thing for Kimi.”

Charles joins in the teasing, “Seems like there are still some secrets in the paddock!”

Sebastian playfully rolls his eyes, “At least my secret doesn’t involve singing into a hairbrush every night before bed.”

Charles blushes as the room bursts into laughter. “Who told you about that?” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Lando, who’s trying hard (and failing miserably) to stifle his giggles.

Lando attempts to defend himself through his laughter, “It wasn’t me! But if we’re confessing, who knew that Seb’s haircare routine involved more products than all of ours combined?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Gotta keep the locks looking good, don’t I?”

Max interjects, “Well, if we’re on the topic of secrets, who wants to bet on how many stuffed animals Lando has on his bed?”

Lando gasps dramatically, “Betrayed by my own brothers! Next time, I’m hiding them all in George’s room!”

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