#but i like to think of the contrast between the two of them early on
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My Thoughts on Vercury + Doodles
To be honest, my relationship with this pairing is literally a love-hate one.
When I first heard about it, I’m not going to lie, I was super turned off. This was during SolarBall’s early episodes, where Mercury was shown constantly being bullied by Venus and I could not imagine being paired with my bully if I was in a similar situation. There was no chemistry between them, and even if there was, it wouldn’t be healthy. Especially during the whole Venus’ name arc, where Mercury constantly mocked him and got an asteroid to the face. Personally, the ship made no sense to me and sounded downright toxic.
But of course, the more recent episodes came out. The atmosphere (even though there’s no atmosphere in space lol) between Mercury and Venus seemed… more neutral than hostile or tense. This is mostly because Mercury started to stand up for himself. Two scenes of note is the moment where Mercury laughed at Venus’ comment during the Rocky Planets episode and when Mercury snapped at Venus during the ‘Solar System by Size’ arc. What’s interesting is that after Mercury yells at him, Venus looked regretful, which was definitely new. Mercury didn’t shout at him about the consequences of him siding with the Sun or anything like that either, he simply said that he was fine with Venus hating him ‘for the sake of everyone else’. After that, Venus didn’t immediately change his mind but did try to explain his side of things, which was also new. As of right now I still don’t see anything happening between them, but I definitely do see the appeal in the ship and the potential for it to eventually happen.
From a settings standpoint- the potential is obvious. We don’t know what happened to cause Venus to pick on Mercury so much, we don’t know what their past was like, and with the answers to those questions revealed, Mercury and Venus might reconcile. Venus clearly has a lot of problems with his conditions as being called ‘a literal hell’ by the Earthlings, and Mercury also has his own insecurities and issues with the Sun. Mercury is already learning how to deal with these things, but Venus hasn’t quite figured it out yet. I’m quite interested on how Venus will be developed and how Mercury will play a role in this. I don’t think Venus downright despises Mercury, and vice versa, but they do have a ton of shit to sort out which may lead to a hopefully happy ending.
Now, from a character standpoint there’s also a ton of potential. Venus and Mercury are kind of opposites, and yknow the saying… opposites attract. It would be really sweet if Mercury could calm Venus down when he was getting too ticked off, and Venus could treat Mercury nicely in his own way. Their personalities contrast really well. I didn’t like Vercury before because I felt if it actually happened Mercury would just allow Venus to treat him like crap, but now I feel like Mercury would know how to set proper boundaries and they would be equals. In a healthy relationship, there shouldn’t be a power imbalance, so with Mercury’s character development and Venus’ potential to change and be kinder (though not necessarily gentler) power imbalance shouldn’t be a problem. Another aspect is the fact that Venus and Mercury are both quite lonely. Earth and Mars are extremely close friends (or more haha), and while Mercury does have the Sun, he’s kind of forced to walk on eggshells in that relationship. They’re also neighbor planets, so there’s that.
In all, I definitely agree with the concept of Vercury, but if it should happen, it should be after Venus and Mercury at least began to try and sort everything out. Here’s some (a bit spicy) doodles as a reward for listening to my rant again :D
As always, I’m open to other people’s opinions- especially on a topic as complex as this one. I just ask that you be respectful. Thank you.
#solarballs#digital art#solarballs fanart#fanart#rant post#solarballs mercury#solarballs venus#solarballs vercury
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THANK YOU FOR YOUR V1 THOUGHTS I AM EATING THEM! how do you feel v2's creators improved on v1?
aaaaa thank you!!! i always love getting a chance to go on and on about these little bugs :]
v2's mind is really interesting due to its development history - i have to imagine that v1 had been in the works for an exceptionally long time as there was no way it would be created toward the end of the war, and so it must also have been extraordinarily expensive. however, it was no longer needed when the new peace was established so, as hakita mentioned, v2 was quickly conceived in order to recoup the losses of such a massive project. and if i were to take a guess, these major expenses fell into three broad categories: the brand new blood-absorbing plates, the custom pieces used throughout v1's construction, and the computer built to house its mind. unfortunately, the plates couldn't be salvaged for a new, peace-time machine where blood would be far more scarce and durability was far more important, but those were easily replaced with standard armor. additionally, v2 could make full use of the other parts of the project that had taken up an immense amount of time and resources, including that proprietary computer.
the hardware itself isn't an issue - a computer this powerful could be set to virtually any purpose and its inherent intelligence would be massively beneficial to working with humans closely. the software, however, presents obvious problems right away, but it's likely they believed the naive programming could be trained as a peacekeeper rather than a warmachine due to its incredible learning capacity. yes, it's based in violence, combat is its foundation, but v2 would be needed for security and it was certainly meant to make peace if it couldn't be kept....so the base code wasn't changed in their haste. it was modified with add-ons, most importantly the limitations that v1 didn't have, as these became much more expedient if it was going to work in the public sphere. essentially, these additional pieces of code would keep v2 from attempting to learn about EVERY little thing around it since much of its environment would be far less relevant to it than v1's would have - v2 could work anywhere from office spaces to parks to train stations, where a vast majority of the stimuli present would be useless and clog up its queue, whereas v1 would largely be reserved for the battlefield and warzones, places it would need to be aware of almost everything in its vicinity. plus, v2 was given many more modifiers on situational assessment and hostile engagement where it considers a vast array of factors before it attacks compared to v1's much more basic measures - v2 assumes peaceful unless proven otherwise, v1 assumes hostile unless proven otherwise. finally, conflict resolution and non-violent tactics where packaged together to slap on to the end of v2's code...but they were sloppy and poorly optimized, so v2's method of choice remained violence.
after this came learning, which its engineers and programmers HEAVILY relied on as opposed to its coding - it was socialized much more intensely than v1, meeting a variety of people and learning to interact with them through basic greetings, administering verbal assistance, and responding to people in distress. v2 was taught extensively to understand facial expressions, was given a vocalizer so it could easily speak to humans (as well as a TON more language packs than v1 so it could communicate easily), and it learned basic first aid (and to AVOID blood harvesting!!!) v2 was additionally trained intensely on human thought models, allowing it a much higher capacity to empathize and intuitively understand emotion as well as make it much better at predicting human behavior. and in some ways, this worked. v2 wanted to be helpful, it developed a much more sophisticated personality and sense of self than v1, and it obviously wanted to be the best it could be. but. it was all too expensive. the amount of training it needed alone was a nightmare in terms of scaling up production, especially on a mass scale - it was never going to be implemented the way drones had been.
and even worse, all that training, all the hours put into it, didn't even fully take. v2 was unpredictable, it often resorted to violence when it should have implemented its conflict resolution and it regularly harvested blood from its victims. it was given scenarios in which it was meant to apprehend a criminal to save civilians, and it would simply end up killing everyone involved instead. over and over its mind defaulted to cruelty, the legacy of its predecessor haunting it, overtaking it, reminding everyone that its core was still war even when they tried to bury it under peace. and this was extremely confusing for v2. it knew what its job was and it followed its protocols, but constantly it was told it had been wrong. it did everything it could to learn what they wanted it to, it absorbed every detail into its mind, but it continued to assess situations poorly according to its teachers. it worked hard until the project was finally shutdown, v2 considered a failure and logistically unlikely to take in the market anyway. so it was shelved beside v1, the old prototype that was only woken up every now and then to run diagnostics and keep in some kind of shape, just in case. now they were both just in case.
but truly, v2 was alone in it. v1, at this point, didn't have nearly the emotional capacity that v2 did, so it didn't really care about being indefinitely put to sleep. i am warming up more to the idea of playing with v1 and v2 having some pre-canon contact, and this is when it would largely take place. i like to think v2 may find workarounds to waking itself up sometimes and then waking up v1 too...but v1 just isn't quite there yet. v2 tries to talk to it, to make it understand and to connect with it in some way, but v1 doesn't get it. it just tries to ask about the war, if it's finally going to be deployed, and v2 has to tell it no, has to watch as it can see v1 ignore it trying to engage with it, until it puts it back to sleep and goes along with it. but, every now and then, something new is added to the storage room they're kept in and v1 becomes interested in it, programming forever attuned to any change in its environment. so v2 can tell it all about whatever it is (sometimes it makes things up if it doesn't know, v1 100% carries some bullshit information that v2 fed it to this day lol) and they can have a moment where it feels like they're not totally alone
#i uhuh. kinda went on a tangent at the end sorry!!#but i like to think of the contrast between the two of them early on#as i think v1 gained much of its sentience through hell#while v2 had it much earlier on due to its training#also why it's funny to have them meet again some time in the future#so v2 can be like 'you have an actual PERSONALITY now????'#'of course it's fucked up and weird'#cake answers#v2
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been thinking a lot about this specific phenomenon that's hard to put into words (so bear with me) where the technological limitations of the medium at the time a work of art was created are sometimes exactly the thing that helps lend it the atmosphere that makes it so compelling. and how sometimes superior technology is, despite the progress that's been made in so many ways, entirely unable to capture that same atmosphere for a multitude of reasons.
like, there's that brian eno quote ("whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature") that gets at some of what i mean, but not all of it.
i'm thinking about video games in particular, the way the forward march of technology does open new avenues but at the same time it inherently disappears older technologies and their aesthetics in the process, which is so tragic to me. and of course there's always nostalgia-driven attempts to recreate them, but those recreations inherently can't ever be entirely faithful to the specific charm of those older technologies and their drawbacks. (pixel art is a good example because sure, there's pixel art games being made now, but on modern LCDs they just won't ever look the same as they did on fuzzy CRTs; the fuzziness of the image made the pixel art come alive in a way modern TVs just can't.)
and this is extra amplified if games are set in a specific real world period or trying to emulate a specific real world aesthetic. because there's a little golden window of time where a game's technical limitations and the resulting art direction, and the period of time the game is meant to be set in, can perfectly compliment each other, like some sort of time prism. and any games made after that point can still do a good job at capturing the aesthetic of the era, but they won't ever be able to harness the inherent authenticity and atmosphere that e.g. noughties games and their 5 polygons can lend to a game set in the noughties.
there's no real solution to this and i'm obviously not advocating that we should be stopping any and all technological progress in favour of preserving certain aesthetics in amber, but it's still really melancholy that this is all so transitory. but i guess on the other hand we do get to enjoy those moments when technology and art/narrative can converge in the exact way they need to.
anyway, this was all just a really longwinded way to say that persona 4 is actually the best video game of all time. sorry if you thought this was about literally anything else
#genuinely have SO many thoughts abt the art direction in p4#the specific flavour of rural late 90s early noughties bleakness it manages to capture SO faithfully#these towns that seem to be perpetually stuck backward in time even if the rest of the world moves on around them#the immense amounts of detail and thought that clearly went into every single part of the environmental design#from the little details on every single set and backdrop to the specific textures they ysed#the contrast between the two incredibly different styles of retro that the game goes for between inaba and the tv world#where inaba is a very earnest straightforward portrayal and the tv world is an exaggerated one#like e.g. the tv world tvs being 'typical' 60s tvs bc that's what most ppl think of when u say retro#whereas you have the clunky 90s CRT version in the protagonist's room in the real world#and how all of this detail and care and forethought just oh so perfectly collides with the ps2 graphics#could write a whole dissertation on this alone fr#and that's just the art style!!!! that's not even getting into the deliberateness and interconnectedness of the writing!!!!!#anyway. don't play p4 it's really bad sorry. like yea its the best video game of all time i did say that it's just also rly rly bad#txt
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So I saw Dune Part 2 yesterday and I was initially super crushed because of the deviation from book canon but the more I think about it the more I sorta like it…
So without further ado here’s a list of stuff I liked about Dune Part 2:
- all the scenes initially of Paul growing closer to the Fremen. You can clearly see that they become friends, accept him as a Feydakin, that they’re laughing, joking, hanging out. (And contrast that to the end of the movie, where Paul has no more Fremen friends, only followers. In the book, this is echoed, where Paul recognizes that he has lost his friends to the Muad’Dib religion. Take book Stilgar, who truly embodies this… by the end of the book, Paul says: “I have seen a friend [Stilgar] become a worshipper.”
- giving Chani explicit rejection of Paul’s messiah status was an interesting choice. Chani’s main thought over part 2 is that they don’t need religion to save them, that through Fremen power and desert power, the Fremen can save themselves. She recognizes that this fanatical worship can be a vehicle to control and enslave her people, and I sorta wish we saw Paul lean into that more… that they found a way to stay together and ‘fight’ the prophecy together based on Chani’s ideals…
- also, I love how engrained this rejection of religion and prophecy is in her character. Book Chani takes no issue with her Fremen name, Sihaya (desert spring), but movie Chani hates it “because it’s part of some prophecy.” Later, we see that despite her rejection of prophecy and religion, that the prophecy does indeed come to pass— the tears of desert spring save Himx aka, Chani saving Paul after he drinks The Water of Life. (Interesting how Jessica has to force Chani to save Paul using the Voice… another example of Jessica explicitly forcing Paul to become the messiah).
- adding more depth to Fremen culture— the South being the more religious fundamentalist tribes vs the North being more secular. Early on, the movie paints this immediate divide between the tribes of Fremen who accept Paul and Jessica versus those who treat them as offworlders (who murdered Jamis). In the books everyone accepts Paul and Jessica after Paul bests Jamis and Jessica quotes some scripture, but I think it makes more logical sense that there’s be friction over these two random offworlders coming in
- I love love loved Paul speaking at the meeting of the Fremen tribe leaders in the South. He fully accepts his messiah status, exercises his power of the Voice + his prescience as a way to command all the Fremen under his name
- I’m a big fan of omitting the two-year time skip, so with that I’m glad Leto II was skipped over entirely. I always felt that Leto II was an unnecessary character addition to the book, especially when he just dies and everyone sort of goes “oh well” and moves on, so I’m glad it’s omitted.
- another interesting choice was to paint Jessica as a straight up villain in comparison to her book counterpart was. The Jessica we see here is seemingly corrupted by the Water of Life: she walks around talking to herself (Alia) and scheming Paul’s ascent to Lisan-Al Gaib. She knows about the Holy War, which is the very thing Paul is trying to prevent, yet she expresses no concern about bringing it to fruition. (Probably because Jessica knows it’s impossible to prevent, but still.) The very last line of the movie, where Alia asks Jessica what’s going on and Jessica says “The Holy War has begun” is just total villain in my mind— explicit acceptance of the Holy War, like it’s just another stepping stone in her plan. Plus, the fact that Paul has visions of Jessica leading him into this period of great starvation totally cements her as a villian.
- going off of that, I like that we see Jessica undergoing actual agony when she takes The Water of Life. When book Jessica and Paul take The Water of Life they accept it calmly and without obvious pain (book Jessica was sitting with her eyes closed, as if sleeping), so this physical reaction that Jessica has to the poison adds to the idea that The Water of Life did change her in a negative way.
- I feel like so far we’ve been introduced to Alia as just a weird talking fetus who’s been consorting with Jessica, so Paul’s vision where Alia says “I love you” really strikes home, that she really does care for Paul which we might not have understood otherwise
#I should probably add something about Feyd-Rautha bc I thought his scenes were really cool so that’s a TBC of this post#also I can’t believe they skipped over Count Fenring! The one person who could defeat Paul in battle… I’m crushed#dune#dune book#dune part two#dune part 2#chani kynes#paul atreides#jessica atreides#alia atreides#dune spoilers
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Alastor - [ DEVOTION… PT.1 ]
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx
[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx
Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.
No one could deny that.
Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.
You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.
From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.
Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.
Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.
If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.
Why?…
In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.
Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.
You were his darling from the very beginning…
His everything…
Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,
The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.
A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.
You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.
The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.
“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”
“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”
“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”
“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”
You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.
He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.
Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.
Cared for you…
Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.
Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.
Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.
Not even on your wedding day.
It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.
You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.
Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?
Was he seeing someone else?
Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?
Was she prettier?
Were you not his kind of woman?
Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…
Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?
Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?
Were you not enough for him?
Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.
Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.
He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.
Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.
You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.
What had upset his darling wife?
Who would he have to kill?….
Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.
He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.
Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.
“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.
Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.
“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.
“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.
Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”
You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.
Fake it.
I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…
It might push him further away…
The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.
Something was wrong.
He was sure of it now.
His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.
A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.
“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.
The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.
“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.
Nothing.
You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.
Had you planned on this?
Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?
All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…
Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.
Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.
“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”
Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.
“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.
Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.
“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.
His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.
“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.
Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.
“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.
Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.
You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.
The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.
Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?
No , it couldn’t be…
You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.
“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.
“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.
The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.
If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.
He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.
You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.
Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”
You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.
“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.
What?….How in the world did he do that?…
Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.
“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.
“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.
Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.
Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…
Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.
Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.
It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.
It was all too much at once….
Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.
“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.
He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”
His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.
You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.
“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.
All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.
His darling wife…
His one and only….
It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.
You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.
A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.
“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.
He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.
“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.
“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.
He knew it too…
That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…
Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..
“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.
You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”
Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.
“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”
Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.
“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.
All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.
“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”
His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.
You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.
Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on
“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.
“More than anything?…”
“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.
That was when it occurred to you…
Alastor Hartiflet could love…
He’d always been able to….
And he loved you enough to share it with another…
How surreal….
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx
This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.
#Spotify#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel alastor#human alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#alastor fluff#alastor hartfelt#alastor smut#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#hard thoughts#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor x oc#alastor human
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Can you do reader is Lando’s little sister and favourite but they barely see each other cause reader is at boarding school and she surprises him at the race. Also cameo of some other drivers too please.
Lando Norris x sister!reader
Summary - Request above xo
Warning - Like one swear one
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During her last year of primary education, Cisca and Adam both sat their youngest child down and discussed the possibility of boarding school.
Both knew it would be hard for the whole family to separate. Yet they both also knew that it would make their lives a lot easier.
With Landos up and coming career in motorsport racing and the rest of their children's careers also slowly building up, neither parent wanted to deprive or abandon Y/n. So with her agreement, they enrolled her into a well reviewed and well known boarding school a few miles out of Bristol.
Laurence Crawford Boarding.
The first few days, of course she was homesick. Missing Lando more than anyone else in the family. Of course. But eventually Y/n made friends and was becoming more and more independent by the day.
-
“Hey Mum!” The young girl giggled down the phone. She was in her shared dorm with a few friends when Cisca called. “Annie! No stop! Ew!”
Cisca took note of her daughter's divided attention, taking an easy guess that she was hanging out with a few friends. “Hi sweetheart, am I calling at a bad time?” Even though neither could see each other, she had a warm and proud smile on her face just thinking about how far Y/n has come.
The innocent giggle down the phone grew quieter and quieter. Y/n was walking away from her friends. “Sorry mum, yeah I can talk. We were just having a games night in my dorm…” Ciscas heart just warmed, happy that her youngest child was growing up and maturing.
“Oh no worries, go and hang out with your friends! Have fun!” And with a couple goodbyes and a ‘I love you’ between the two, Y/n was back hanging out with her friends.
-
Unlike her younger years of boarding, Y/n hadn’t been home from school on the weekend in a long while. She couldn’t; especially with her exams quickly approaching, she was in her dorm studying and revising most weekends.
This meant the youngest Norris hadn’t seen her family in a few weeks. Of course she had spoken to them but hadn’t been home since the end of January, and they all understood why. It was harder for some to swallow that pill - well harder for one person particularly e.g Lando.
The Silverstone grand-prix was just around the corner and all he wanted was for his youngest sister to be there. Yeah it was selfish but he missed her, to be far the last time the two saw each other was early January. He missed her so much.
“Are you sure you can’t just take the exam early and then come and support me?” His rough voice rang through Y/n's phone whilst she was highlighting her revision. Lando wasn’t even trying to hide his annoyance.
A gentle laugh followed by a sigh was heard from Y/ns side of the call. “I’m sorry Lan…I can’t ask them to move the exam, it’s against the rules of the exam board…”
She didn’t have an exam that week actually, she was lying. Y/n was going to be in Silverstone that sunday. It’s just that Lando didn’t know, oh no it was a surprise.
What he thought was happening was that everyone else from his immediate family would be there, except Y/n.
Everyone was in on the surprise. All excited to see the pair reunited. Surprises were always one of the things the Norris family loved to do.
-
Y/n - Good luck today! I’ll be juggling revision and watching the race, I hope to hear our national anthem pleaseee
Lando - Thank you angel, don’t wear yourself out
Y/n - I should tell you the same thing
Lando thought she’d be tucked away in her dorm room whilst they were texting back and forth. A vast contrast to her current location; in the passenger seat of Oliver's car. The sun was shining through the windshield and down over her bare knees.
Y/n was wearing a white summer dress, some comfortable trainers and her signed mclaren 4 cap. Looking ready to spend the day in the British summer sun supporting one of her older brothers.
She was smirking. He really had no clue about this. “Okay so he thinks I’m still at school, oh my god I can’t wait!”
With her gcses, Y/n hadn’t been to a race in a long time and she missed it; watching from her dorm was not the same. In her dorm, she didn’t get that real excitement that would course through her like it would in the McLaren garage.
Looking over to Oliver, he was also smirking. Just remembering how he had to deal with Landos sulking and the clear signs that Y/n was by far his favorite. “Yeah he’s gonna be so happy when he sees you!”
-
Once they arrived, Y/n was quietly escorted through the back way to the McLaren garage. They couldn’t have the press ruining the surprise. Luckily for Y/n, her spot in the garage couldn’t be seen from anywhere Lando would be.
She stood between her parents whilst her other three siblings stood on either side Cisca and Adam. “I’m so excited!” When she was handed her headset, the girl got even more excited because she could hear her brother's voice through the radio.
He had yet to win his first grand prix and she hoped he would get to that top step of the podium, especially at his home race. And hopefully without him knowing she is here, he will focus on that exact outcome.
-
It was a hard race, lots of action and stress. Something Y/n liked, she hated a boring race - this sport was about racing, not riding cars in the same positions in several circles. But the most important thing to note from this race was the number four McLaren parked in front of the number one place in Parc Ferme.
The papaya garage was very much in celebrations, including the Norris family. Turning to face her mother with tears in her eyes, she noticed how Cisca also had tears in her eyes. “He did! He did!”
Adam, who is also over the moon with the win, takes her hand and starts to lead her over to the Parc Ferme to surprise the driver. Reaching the Parc Ferme they stand waiting amongst the McLaren staff and up against the barriers.
Lando pulls himself out of the car and makes his way to celebrate with his team. It’s only when he moves to give Adam a hug that he notices his little sister and he gasps.
“Y/n?” He can’t believe his eyes, he thought she was back in her boarding school revising.
Immediately the driver breaks from his father's embrace and races to collect Y/n in his arms. The two siblings were laughing and crying together. Finally reunited after a long time, in their opinions.
After a few seconds, Lando moves to collect her face in his hand gently - trying to see if his eyes are deceiving him, they weren’t. “I thought you had an exam!” He shouts over the cheers around the two of them.
Y/n just smirks cheekily and shakes her head. “Nope! Surprise!” Soon her smirk turns into a groan when Landos hand moves to mess up her hair, laughing breaking out between them once again.
Everyone saw. The cameras around Parc Ferme all broadcasting the reuniting of two siblings who just missed each other. “You’re such a little shit!”
Shrugging her shoulders, Y/n smiled. “Everyone was in on it! Our family loves a surprise!” So when Lando turned to look at his father, Adam just nodded - Happy to reunite two of his children.
-
#formula one#formula one x reader#f1#f1 x reader#lando norris#lando norris x sister!reader#lando norris x sister#mclaren formula 1#f1 fanfic#formula one fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#formula one x y/n
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rookie f1 racer satoru gojo decides the best way to kick off race weekend is going to a coffee shop
a/n: hi friends ! here is the first one shot for my f1 racer!gojo au :3 i am so beyond excited to start these, they won’t be a cohesive series & can be read alone! i will make an au masterlist though :] please enjoy and let me know what yall think !! if there’s any ideas or requests yall have for this series send them in !! reblogs very appreciated <3 ok that is all bye bye ! <3 also both gojo and reader are early 20s since i have him in his rookie season
word count - 3,444
masterlist
LIGHTS OUT & AWAY WE GO !
there’s not many people out during usual work hours, kids are in school, adults are at work, and the world is a little quieter. it’s something satoru had grown to love. between all the cameras reporters, he just wanted some peace, and no one knew peace quite like coffee shops.
satoru sauntered into the building, it was unassuming enough, a few people scattered throughout the establishment, all too engrossed in their own work to look up. he doubted he’d get recognized by anyone in here.
he orders and gets his drink and pastry fairly quickly, sitting by the window and watching the world pass by him. life seemed to move in slow motion, the leisurely paces of someone walking their dog making him relax a bit.
“hey! is it cool if i use this outlet?” the voice makes him jump a bit, turning around to face whoever it was speaking.
you smile softly at him, hoping he would be kind enough to just let you charge your laptop. you figured he’d be attractive, his hair’s an eye catching bright white color, contrasting to the black shirt and sunglasses he had on. you caught a glimpse of his blue eyes as he looks at you, nodding before clearing his throat.
“yeah go ahead,” he returns the smile, motioning for you to plug in your charger.
“I’ll just leave it here to charge, i don’t wanna bother” you state, quickly plugging in your laptop before moving to walk away.
“you can sit if you wanna, it’s no problem” he rushes out quickly, hoping it was enough to make you stay. his breath caught in his throat as you turned to look at him.
“are you sure?” he nods quickly, “yeah no worries! I’m not doing much of anything right now,” he grins, regaining his composure and taking a sip of his drink.
it’s quiet between the two of you before you speak up, “you like Mercedes?” satoru feels his blood go cold, looking at you with a confused expression. you gesture to his shirt, “you’ve got their merch on” you laugh.
“oh! yeah they’re pretty cool,” he nods, watching as you smile and nod, focusing on your screen again.
“i didn’t know they had merch like that,” you admit, “maybe it’s just ‘cause im not super into cars.” satoru feels relief wash over him, his shoulders subtly relaxing before he’s looking at you again.
“it’s their f1 team merch” he says, “i work for them, actually.” his hearts beating a bit faster as you make eye contact with him, looking up from your laptop.
“oh? that’s so cool! you’re a mechanic or-?” your head cocks a bit to the side, smiling when the man across from you breaks into a wide grin.
satoru debates going along with your idea, but he can’t bring himself to lie to you, not when you’re eyes are shining at him.
“i actually race for them, im a driver” he corrects you gently, your eyes widen a bit and you cover your mouth as it opens.
“oh my god I’m so sorry! i don’t know a thing about formula one” you laugh nervously, “i knew there was something going on with all the extra fuss in the city but i had no idea what.”
he smiles at you and waves off your apology, “don’t worry! it was nice having someone to talk to that’s not yelling at me to sign something” he cringes a bit at the way the words rolled off his tongue, but you still smile at him, going back to working on whatever was it was you were doing on your laptop.
“one of my friends is actually getting into f1 i think, is there someone named,” you trail off as you think of the other mans name, “i think it’s Charlie? charles? one of those two” you laugh nervously, satoru’s ears perk up at the name.
“charles leclerc?” He asks, your eyes light up, “yeah that one! he’s a racer right?” satoru nods at you.
“yeah he races for ferrari,” you nod along to his words, realizing you hadn’t caught his name yet.
“what was your name, just so i know who to root for when people ask my favorite driver” you grin, a twinkle in your eye that makes his stomach flip.
“I’m satoru, satoru gojo” he reaches his hand across the table for you to shake, you can’t stop the soft chuckle that leaves your lips as your hands connect, a firm shake against his much larger, warmer and calloused hands.
a comfortable silence falls between the two of you as satoru finishes his drink off and you continue to focus on your laptop. satoru can’t help but continue to look your way, thinking you were absolutely breathtaking.
you on the other hand, had your heart beating against your rib cage as you pulled up your messaging app on your laptop and quickly texted your best friend.
I HAD TO PLUG IN MY CHARGER BUT THE ONLY OUTLET WAS NEXT TO THIS SUPER HOT GUY AND I ENDED UP SITTING IN THE BOOTH W HIM AND WERE TALKING AND HES AN F1 DRIVER ???? DID I MENTION HES HOT AS FUCK??
you wait a couple minutes, your friend has yet to reply as your leg bounced under the table.
“what are you working on? if i may ask” the question makes you immediately close your messages and go back to your google document, looking blankly at the paper in front of you.
“it’s some busy work for a class im in, required by the university” you shrug, “was getting through it pretty quickly until my laptop died on me” the snowy haired man smiled at you, laughing softly as he pulls his phone out.
satoru scrolls aimlessly on his socials, nothing seemed as interesting as you did, sitting practically across from him engrossed in your work. the two of you made easy conversation for the next hour or so, not realizing how much time had passed since youd sat down.
you’d tried to get up and leave after you turned in your assignment and laptop was charged, giving him privacy you imagined he yearned for. but satoru was quick to tell you to stay, “you don’t have to go! it’s nice talking to you” he says, “like a breath of fresh air.”
and so you sit back down, the two of you falling into place as if you were old friends, people who’d known each other in years past and were catching up. you didn’t ask about his job or his career, asking about him and what his favorite color was, his favorite season and if he actually liked his coffee as sweet as it has smelled.
you kept reminding yourself this was gonna be a one off thing, he’d leave and you’d part ways, never talking again as you inevitably turned on an f1 race, seeing the pretty man on your tv screen and imagining what could’ve been if you were a bit braver.
it had been nearly three hours since you’d sat at his booth when his phone starts buzzing, quickly answering the call from his manager. his small smile turns to a faint pout as they tell him to head to the paddock for free practice in a couple hours, sighing and telling them he’d be on his way shortly.
you feel disappointed as you hear the words, not wanting the bubble you were in to burst, wanting to stay seated across from the attractive man for as long as you could.
“I’m gonna head out, have to go work” he jokes, his smile widens when you laugh, “i hope you pass your exam thursday,” he’s doing everything in his power to linger around, trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you.
you laugh softly and nod your head, “it’s open note so hopefully it’s not too bad, but good luck at your race! I’m sure you’ll do great.”
satoru’s bright blue eyes light up at your words, you could almost see the lightbulb forming atop his head, making you furrow your brows slightly in confusion.
“why don’t you come? to the race this weekend? are you busy?” the words tumble out his mouth in an unorganized jumble of excitement, he’s beaming at you with his bangs in his eyes, sunglasses barely balancing on the tip of his nose.
“oh i couldn’t, those tickets must be so expensive and i don’t wanna bother-” satoru is cutting you off with furrowed brows and a bewildered expression his face.
“you think I’d make you pay? don’t be silly,” he grins, “I’ll get you some good seats and maybe we can meet up after the race?” he can hear his heart beating in his ears. was he being insane? a little bit. did he care? not at all.
you bite your lip for a second, it’s not like you had an insane amount of work, plus the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on was asking you out to some crazy sporting event you’d only heard of in passing.
“okay yeah, i think i could squeeze it in my schedule” you grin, watching as the man across from you smile at you. he’s quick to ask for your information, immediately sending it off to whoever it was needed it and was informing you of all you needed to know.
“I told them to give you an extra ticket so you can bring a friend so you’re not too lonely waiting for me” the words make your face and ears heat up, trying to remain composed in front of him.
“well i guess I’ll see you sunday then?” the words make your stomach flip, wondering how he’d look like with his gear on.
“see you sunday” he smiles at you, waving goodbye as his phone buzzes for a second time, hurrying out of the coffee shop with his whole body buzzing from excitement.
you don’t fully process the entire interaction until you’re sitting in your apartment, phone lighting up from a new email.
Mercedes F1 team PR
Good afternoon! We are elated to send you two tickets to invite you to this weekends Grand Prix race! Below you will find all the information…
you open it quickly, reading the entire thing twice before you’re rolling onto your back and giggling uncontrollably, giddy beyond belief to see satoru again. your fingers itch to look him up, deciding against it and locking your phone as you try to continue on with your day.
sunday arrives quicker than you thought it would, your friend following you into the circuit as you try to figure out where to go next, looking around helplessly as you look down at your phone and at the map provided.
“are we supposed to go down there?” your friend points, both of you staring at each other blankly. the two of you wait for a second before looking around once more, taking a leap of faith and walking with confidence where you think you had to be.
your friend is much braver than you are, flagging down someone in a staff shirt and showing them the ticket, they’re quick to lead the two of you in the opposite direction, making you and your friend hold back laughter until you’re finally seated.
satoru was anxiously looking around, he wasn’t exactly sure where they had seated you, but he’d requested you be close to the garage, wanting to say hello before the race.
“you’re a lot more antsy than usual” the deep voice makes him look away from his phone. nanami kento, right hand man to Toto Wolff and next in line to take over the team principal position.
“I’ve got an important guest I’ve gotta impress” satoru replies quickly, putting his phone away and walking towards kento, “I’m gonna rack in some points today” he winks, making the blonde roll his eyes.
soon enough satoru is seated in the car and on the grid, mind completely focused on the race ahead, taking deep breaths as the red lights appear.
you couldn’t help but watch some race clips last night, figuring you should know some basics and not show up completely clueless. the videos, however, didn’t prepare you for how fast the cars truly were, engines sending vibrations to your chest and stands shaking as they raced by.
“and gojo overtakes hamilton! the rookie had a terrible qualifying yesterday, but seems as though he’s back in the game today” the announcers words blare through the speakers, chest blooming with pride as they talked up satoru.
you’re focused on the primarily black car, watching as he zooms past the stands at unbelievable speeds. your heart racing as he passes other drivers, cheering when he successfully overtook them.
satoru continues to climb up the ranks, cinching a position on podium; second place, sandwiched between verstappen and leclerc. he’s hopping out of the car and celebrating with his team, squeezing kento a bit tighter than the rest. his blue eyes are focused on the crowd as he waits his turn for the post race interview, trying to catch sight of you, mind racing as he wonders if you even came.
he smiles at charles as he passes him, walking up to the interviewer and answering the questions with generic answers ‘I’m beyond excited for the rest of the season’ and ‘I’m looking forward to the day i win my first Grand Prix’ along with thanking his support system and team before kindly thanking the interviewer and heading to the winners room before the podium ceremony.
satoru’s messy hair is covered by the Mercedes hat, taking it off and ruffling it a bit, sighing when he scans the crowd one last time and doesn’t make you out, turning around and closing the door behind him.
you only make it to the floor area moments after charles walks out, slightly out of breath as they call out satoru’s name.
the snowy haired racer is waving to the crowd, a semblance of a smile on his face as he stands on the podium, eyes still searching the crowd in one last feeble attempt to spot you.
satoru feels his heart skip a beat and face turn even redder as he locks eyes with you, a much more genuine smile on his face when he gives you a little wave.
you’re heart races as you make eye contact with the driver, adoring the way his cheeks flushed and skin looked honey like under the rays of the sunset. you smile and clap as he raises the trophy, pointing directly at the trophy then at you.
this one’s for you
maybe you’re a hopeless romantic, or maybe he’s just too hot and charming to not fall for, but you feel your heart giving in and walls crumbling as he shakes the large champagne bottle, dousing the other two until all three of them were dripping with champagne.
satoru finds you in the garage after 20 minutes, thanking his manager a hundred times over before walking up to you. his race suit only on from the waist down, black fireproof sticking to his body perfectly and snowy white hair tousled and wet from a mixture of champagne and sweat.
“you came” he says, making you nod and smile at him sweetly.
“why wouldn’t i? my favorite driver invited me” you reply.
satoru rolls his eyes and snickers, “im the only driver you know,” he watched you grin up at him sheepishly, “still you’re my favorite!”
“you did really good out there by the way” the words make him smile wider, biting his lip softly.
“yeah?” he asks, you nod your head, far too nervous to trust your voice as he looks at you, head too scrambled to figure out the emotion painted on his face as he looks at you. “good enough that you’d consider going on a date with me?”
it seems like it’s just the two of you in the busy garage as you smile up at him, tilting your head as you nod, “yeah I’d consider it.”
you think he looks almost angelic under the fluorescent lights in the garage, his white hair looks like a halo as you look up at him, pretty blue eyes a stark contrast against his fair skin and black uniform.
satoru thinks you look unbelievable, hair falling perfectly and voice sweet as honey as you talk to him, a saccharine smile on your lips just for him, the thought makes his knees buckle and brain stutter. he doesn’t care how whipped he looks as he takes you in, relishing in the moment before he speaks up.
“I’ll be off the clock next time,” he jokes, loving the way your giggles sounded. it feels like a relief off his shoulders, grinning widely as the two of you continued to talk.
“I’ve gotta get out of this uniform, but I’ll text you?” he looks down, biting his bottom lip as he fights a smile before looking back up at you, hoping you’d get the hint and give him your number.
you smile at him and tilt your head, “is that your way of asking for my number?” satoru blushes, smiling at you shyly and nodding his head, you can’t help but giggle as you grab a piece of paper and pen from the table besides you, scribbling your number and a smiley face. “here, don’t lose it.”
satoru grins, “i don’t lose.”
the sky is dark by the time you exit the garage, biting your lip and fighting back a smile as you meet up with your friend, finally heading home for the night. gushing about the interaction, reliving every moment and squealing at the memories.
when was the last time you’d felt this way? when was the last time you’d let your guard down so quickly for someone?
it was strange. the way your heart leapt when you saw him, the way your face flushed when he spoke to you and the way you felt so comfortable with him.
“maybe he’s your soulmate” you friend wiggled their brows at you, teasing you as you roll your eyes.
“or he’s putting up a front and he’s like every other guy” you shoot back, biting your lip. he felt, different. genuine.
“you don’t have to be so pessimistic! you never know he could be the man you spend your life with” they shrug their shoulders, smiling when you fall silent and hum.
you’re showered and in bed when your phone vibrates, a new text message from an unknown number.
satoru had spent an hour drafting the text, deleting it and typing it out again, removing and adding emojis until he forgot what he was even trying to say, starting over and groaning. when was the last time he was this nervous to text someone?
he can’t recall ever wanting to spend more time with someone the way he does with you. the though of love at first sight crosses his mind, making his face burn and dimples pop as he smiles.
hi it’s satoru ! thanks for coming to the race tonight , i hope i can see you again :)
his heart pounds against his chest as the three little dots appear on his screen, holding his breath when they disappear and reappear time and time again.
you continued to delete your text, trying to figure out how to word your text before finally biting the bullet and pressing send, heart racing as it says delivered, then read within the minute.
thanks for inviting me ! it was a lot of fun,, I’d love to see you again also :3
satoru squealed at the text, biting his lip before replying back, giggling at your every text and replying as fast as he could. the two of you texting back and forth until your eyes were too heavy to keep open, wishing him a goodnight. satoru was already pinching himself to stay awake, somewhat thankful you were also tired as he wished you goodnight, setting his phone down and falling asleep moment later, the faintest of smiles painted on his lips.
you grinned as you locked your phone, setting it down and biting your lip before squealing into your pillow. he wanted to see you again. you didn’t fight off the smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, slowly falling asleep, then all at once, dreams filled with blue eyes and white hair and expensive, fast cars.
there’s no better place to find a lover than at a coffee shop on race weekend.
taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @sadmonke @lovelylixie
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Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV
Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.
Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.
W/C: ~8K
A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love.
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Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die?
Like me, he's lost the will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry
The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.
The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.
But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.
In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lone–
Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.
“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.
“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.
“Don’t,” Joel bites back.
“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.
“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”
He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.
Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.
Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.
And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.
“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.
As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.
He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.
Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.
++++
God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.
He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.
He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.
Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.
"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"
He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.
Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.
His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.
Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.
He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.
"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.
“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.
He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.
“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”
He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.
Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.
He’s just another customer.
The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.
He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.
More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.
He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.
He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.
But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.
“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.
++++
The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.
Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.
“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.
He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.
“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.
He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.
A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.
On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.
He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.
He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.
He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.
When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.
You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.
“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.
He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?
Jesus.
No.
He’s just a customer.
He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.
“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?
But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.
She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.
He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.
He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.
He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.
But you don’t call or text.
He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.
But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.
You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.
Fuck.
++++
Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –
Somethings wrong.
There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.
He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.
It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.
“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.
He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.
He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.
“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.
It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.
He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.
The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.
"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.
He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.
"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.
"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.
He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.
"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.
"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.
Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.
His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.
In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.
"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.
His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.
"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.
“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.
“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.
Rip off the fucking bandaid man.
“Why didn’t you call?”
He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.
“I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.
“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?
He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.
“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?
He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.
There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.
But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.
But no.
Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.
“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.
“Ki–”
Fuck it.
He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.
He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.
He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.
“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.
He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.
“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.
“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.
Fuck. Yes.
His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.
He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.
“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.
“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.
You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.
He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.
“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.
He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.
“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.
You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.
“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.
He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.
He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.
“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.
“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.
Please, he pleads to himself silently.
He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.
“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.
“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.
“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.
He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.
“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.
He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.
He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.
“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.
“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.
“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.
He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –
“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.
“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.
He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.
“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.
“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.
He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.
“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.
“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck.
“I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.
He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.
“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.
He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.
“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.
He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.
Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.
He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.
“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants.
“Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.
He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.
“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.
“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.
“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.
Yeah, that’s right. Use me.
And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.
“Where do you want me, baby?”
“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.
Holy fuck.
After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.
The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.
When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.
He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.
“Wanna smoke?”
++++
“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.
“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.
“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.
“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.
“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.
You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.
You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.
And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.
It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.
He wants more.
And something tells him you do, too.
END
Ily. Thanks for reading!
Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedrostories#consent#joel miller#joel miler x fem!reader#joel miller fanfic#Joel's POV
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humbly requesting ghost x reader where he thinks he’s too old and damaged for reader. i headcannon ghost to be anywhere between 35-38 and the reader would be early twenties. he’s all emo and “oh they’re too innocent, i’d hurt and ruin them” and reader is just like “i would die for this man.”
Too Old For You // Part One
Summary: You've been crushing on him for a while now, even going as far as taking a stab for him. But it isn't enough for him to notice you; you're too young, too nice for someone like him.
Warning(s): medic!reader, fem!reader, age gap [reader is early twenties, ghost is mid/late thirties], mild injury/blood, hurt/no comfort
Word Count: 817
A/N: I enjoy hurting my own feelings :)
꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST
// have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX | AO3 VER | PART TWO .ˎˊ˗
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
You did know that, by this point, at least. He had only told you about a hundred times.
“I can do this myself. It’s my job,” you let out a hiss as the Lieutenant purposefully wrapped the gauze tighter than necessary. You weren’t even supposed to be involved — you were supposed to keep hidden until the situation was handled.
He ripped off the end of it, fastening the small clip to keep the wrap in place. “Keep quiet,” he wanted to be irate. But you meant well, and that’s what bothered Simon the most. He, of all people, didn’t deserve to be the one you sacrificed yourself for. You were lucky it was a knife through the hand and not through the heart—where the intruder had been aiming the blade intended for him.
The gash in your palm would be a life-long reminder, doomed to leave a nasty scar.
Nothing says I’m in love with you like taking a stab in the hand for him, but it was abundantly clear he was too headstrong to let you be with him. Or was intentionally dismissing your signals entirely, you weren’t sure which one was more disheartening.
Ghost sets your injured hand back down, letting you admire his sloppy patchwork. It got the job done, it didn’t need to be an aesthetically-pleasing bandage. He used an alcohol wipe to cleanse the bloodstains on your forearm, now an unnecessary service. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing for you being injured on his behalf because he surely wasn’t expressing it through words.
You reached over with your unharmed hand and placed it over his, stopping his meticulous wiping, “I got this.”
The stubborn Lieutenant only flicked his gaze upwards from your hand on his, a brief scoff escaping his lips. Whatever the hell that meant. “Least I can do is get the damn blood off you, kid. Jumped in front of a bloody knife for me.”
Kid. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you.
He continued muttering and shaking his head in disapproval, running the alcohol wipe along your flesh until there was no trace of crimson.
It wasn’t a motive of stupidity, nor was it to prove yourself. You weren’t even a soldier, there would be no use trying to be tough in front of him. Your true motive was admiration for him, and even now, with a stab wound, he’s too mule-headed to let you in. Any longer, and you might just lose your mind entirely.
“Thought you would be relieved, I guess.” You shrugged, speaking with a small bit of defeat. “Knife was supposed to go right there.” A finger pointed at his heart but didn’t dare make contact. You knew better than that,.. Sort of.
Before you could finish outstretching your hand, his unoccupied one clamped over it, breaths a little heavier. Followed by a look that could only be described as intense contemplation; should I break this hand or continue to gently hold it?
“You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re doing, do you?” Simon questions, thumb instinctually caressing your knuckle to balance out the iron grip he maintained. “You’re confused.”
You were too young, too nice in his eyes. It was your job to be a healer, a good one, too. And his job? A trained killer. To him, it was too ironic, too striking of a contrast. An arrangement like that would never work—Simon was too mature, too damaged, downright unworthy of your kindness. At least that’s what he had himself convinced of, even after the knife incident.
You replied hastily, a slight tinge of frustration showing. “I’m not confused, Ghost. I know what I want—I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.” You would’ve done it again if it meant another chance at restarting this conversation. A conversation that now was nose-diving into a point of no return.
“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” he sighed, amber eyes flooded with internal conflict. His grip released with one swift movement, and now his palm rested on either side of you, but it wasn’t intimidation he was after. “I’m not the bloke you want to jump in front of a bullet for, trust me.”
“Simon—” You blurted amidst his attempts at swaying you, cradling your bandaged hand. What more would it take?
“—Ghost.” He interjected, taking several steps back from his looming position. If he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from poisoning you.
It wasn’t right. You deserve someone better than him. “It’s Ghost. We’re not doin’ this, Kid. I’m not doing it.” His words were like a punch to the gut, more painful than a stab to the hand, that’s for sure.
The door to the infirmary slammed shut, only seconds before his footsteps faded into silence, stranding you with the solitude of rejection.
#mw2#mw2 fanfic#call of duty#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost mw2#simon riley headcanons#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2 x reader#ghost x you#ghost x reader#cod x reader#cod headcanons#cod x female reader#cod x gn!reader#cod x you#cod x y/n#141 task force#tf 141
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Honestly, first time noticing the names in Simon's contact list I was just like 'haha cute references' and didn't pay it much mind. But looking at them again, and really thinking about them. The Implications here, like Most Things About Simon's Life Right Now, are pretty tragic....
Like, Abracadaniel and Lady Island and Gunter (and BMO if you take into consideration the comic's continuity) are not Simon Petrikov's friends, they were Ice King's friends.
You know, like, yeah, everyone except Marcy knew Ice King way way before they got to know Simon. But at least with folks like Finn, finding out about Simon is a huge reason why he started being kinder and friendlier to him. And Bubblegum probably is only fond of Simon know in spite of him being Ice King.
But Abracadaniel and Lady Island liked Ice King without having any frame-of-reference or concept of 'Simon Petrikov' in their heads. They were Ice King's friends.
And Simon's phone is pretty distinctly, like, a realistic early 2000's cellphone. A total contrast to all the magical/sci-fi/cobbled-together looking cellphones everyone else in Ooo uses
And Ice King himself, I'm pretty sure we've only ever seen him use either a normal-looking landline or the Bananaphone
Not this ordinary Nokia-looking flip-phone, definitely.
So I'm assuming this phone was maybe found buried somewhere in the Past Room, or maybe was unearthed while they were preparing for that '20th Century Man' exhibition and Simon also takes it along for personal use. But either way, Simon had to deliberately put those numbers of Friends of the Ice King in his contact list.
It might be something as simple as having transferred the data from some of Ice King's old communication devices and then just... despite it all Simon just doesn't have the heart to delete these names. The same way you or I might not have it in us to the delete the numbers of friends of ages past or increasingly-distant acquaintances or dead relatives.
Or maybe Simon did try and preserve their friendship at first. Or maybe the friends did. And obviously it didn't work out.
I mean, I can kinda see maybe Simon getting along fine with Lady Island because IK was relatively Grounded interacting with her so maybe the change to Simon won't be that much of a difference to her. ....But that can also create problems if she has a hard time seeing the difference between Simon Petrikov and Ice King, that would really make him uncomfortable.
But there really is zero chance Simon managed to keep things going normal with Abracadaniel. A Wizard who originally bonded with Ice King because he saw him as a cool Wizard. Not to mention Gunter is currently a living incarnation of the very Crown that cursed Simon in the first place and a manifestation of Gunter's love of Ice King
so... yeah, I think in Simon's current state any interaction he had with those two was unbearably awkward and just another thing that will make him miss being Ice King in a twisted way.
And yet... despite wanting so badly to define himself as distinctive and different from Ice King ("I didn't write those! Ice King wrote those!") and to not be reminded of him.... Simon still keeps all these people in his contact list.
#adventure time#atimers#adventure time spoilers#adventure time fionna and cake#fionna and cake#fionna and cake spoilers#fionna and cake series#fionna and cake show#at spoilers#simon petrikov#adventure time simon#simon adventure time
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the blurry line between friendship and something more
bachelorette series - trailer ▸ part 1 ▸ part 3 ▸ part 4 ▸ part 5
synopsis: the second day on this season’s bachelorette involves our first group date, a solo date with last night’s lucky winner, and of course, a rose ceremony to say goodbye to a few more contestants
warnings: cursing, implied sex, children, mentions of absent parenthood
w/c: 5.3k
a/n: my head is so empty but i hope that this is an enjoyable continuation, ty to all the love and all the readers <3 appreciate u all
⋆｡°·☁︎
you wake up quite early the next day despite the long night. you pass by sana's door that's still closed, safely assuming she would still be asleep. it's also early enough that none of the producers or costume and makeup teams have come by yet to start preparing the two of you for shooting today, and you decide to head downstairs and make yourself a smoothie.
you cringe slightly as you turn the blender on, the loud whirring blasting through the peace and quiet of the early morning, but knowing sana sleeps like the dead, you're not too concerned about waking her up.
once your smoothie is ready, you walk out onto the patio and take in the slight bite of the morning air, reflecting over the events of last night while the sun makes its ascension into the sky.
you had to admit it was a little funny to see the faces of some of the contestants when sana called you out before the rose ceremony and introduced you as her best friend. you took glee in heechul's reaction in particular, horrified at what you may have said about him to sana, sending a wink over to jacky and eunji and a smile at miyeon who had all looked on in surprise as you took your place next to sana.
the rose ceremony droned on a little after that. sana had eliminated people that didn't leave much of an impression on either of you, you didn't remember any of their names. fitting since the night was all about first impressions.
what was surprising however, was who won her first impression rose. wonsik, the terrified guy that looked like he was going to pee himself every time a woman so much as looked in his direction, must have made some sort of lasting impact on sana that hopefully did not involve actual urine. she wasn't specific when you asked her afterwards, just saying that she had enjoyed her conversation with him and that he seemed like a sweet guy.
this entire thing was making you think maybe you knew sana a little less than you thought.
you sigh. an uncomfortable pit has found it's home in the bottom of your stomach ever since the beginning of last night, and it didn't seem like it was going away anytime soon. you dread what was to come.
⋆｡°·☁︎
the first group date was underway.
sana had picked miyeon, eunji, jacky, jun, dae, and jiwon to participate. all 6 of them had made relatively good impressions with you on the first night, so this made for a good chance to dig a little more and see if you could eliminate any of these contestants.
it was honestly a pretty intense date to start with, diving right into the nitty gritty relationship questions most couples wouldn't even attempt until a few months in.
kids.
you knew sana adored kids and that she was a natural with them. this date involved everyone heading to a childcare and running it for a day.
this meant you could sit off to the side and laugh at the way eunji and dae looked completely out of depth trying to get a naked toddler that was running around on a tantrum back into his clothes.
you were sitting with jiwon since you didn't get to talk much to her on the introduction night, but with her experience as a nurse, she had a way with kids that made them just fall into her lap and completely calm down.
"did you say anything about me to sana?" she was a little awkward sitting with you, in contrast to the confidence she had last night when she had pulled sana away for a conversation during what you liked to refer to in your head as 'the hunger games'.
you feign indifference, "oh you know... only that you were really rude to me when we first met and called me a" you cover the little girl's ears sitting in jiwon's lap, "whore."
she looks at you in horror.
you burst out laughing, "i'm just joking jiwon don't worry. no i didn't say anything in particular which means you must have made a plenty good impression on your own to land on this group date." you offer an apologetic smile as she collects herself, combing her fingers through the little girl's hair lulling her into sleep.
"well thankyou. i'm glad sana has you here." she says honestly, placing the girl into a cot when she's fallen asleep and tucking her in, "it's pretty daunting to be dating so many people at once. it's good you can set her straight and be an objective presence."
you hum, "you're really good with these kids. is that something you want for yourself in the future?"
"not really to be honest. i grew up with really young siblings and my parents were pretty absent so i guess i got good at taking care of them because i had to. but that's also why i don't really want kids. being a nurse is really tiring and you're on call pretty much 24/7. the overtime is terrible and by the time we finally get off work, all we want is a good night’s sleep before we have to do it all over again. i don't want to have kids if i'm going to be like my parents, if i have them i want to make sure i have the time for them to give them the proper care and love they need."
"i'm sorry you had to go through that." the two of you whip your heads around to find sana there with a gentle smile on her face, carrying a little boy on her hip who looks perfectly snug against her.
jiwon's blushing and shuffling over so sana can join you on the carpeted floor. "there's nothing to apologise for. my experiences have shaped who i am today, it's why i do what i do and why i love it."
"that's admirable. i'm actually someone who really loves kids and would love to have some of my own, but i can definitely see different perspectives." sana's slotting in easily, and you find your jaw clenching at the way she's wrapped an arm around jiwon's and playing with her fingers.
jiwon's fumbling and a blushing mess, "oh! i mean like obviously it depends on my partner! i'd be open to discussing kids with the right person, but yeah like i said, i just want to make sure that the kids get what they need or it can really mess them up."
sana's giggling and you feel completely invisible, quietly excusing yourself to let them talk.
you bite your lip, the pit in your stomach feeling heavier than ever. you want to kick yourself, you have no idea why you're feeling this way, and jiwon seemed like such a sweet person as well, there was no reason at all for you to think she was unsuitable for sana. and yet, watching them touch and laugh and talk together made you feel all sorts of things you weren't ready to delve into yet.
you walk towards miyeon who is trying her best but still looks very much out of her zone.
"hey y/n-" she grimaces as the girl on her shoulder seems to pull on her hair, "bet everyone wants to date me right now huh?"
you laugh, helping get the girl off of her and pushing her towards another group of kids that seemed to be playing some sort of game.
"i'm sure sana appreciates the effort."
she cringes as she pulls something out of her hair and inspecting it before throwing it into the bin with a look of disgust, "eugh. i'm never having kids."
you laugh again, grabbing a comb and offering it to her as she accepts it gratefully.
"so you pulled a fast one on us last night huh?" again, you're struck by the similarities she shares with sana, if sana didn't love kids as much as she did, you'd bet she would be acting exactly like miyeon, screeching and running from the kids afraid of getting dirty or clung onto, kind of like how she would run from birds.
you shove her teasingly as she sends you a light glare, "don't worry. i only had good things to say about you." you smile reassuringly.
"oh i'm sure. i'm perfect anyways i don't know what you could've said that could be bad anyway." she smirks.
you roll your eyes goodheartedly, "actually i think i just found something. better watch your back, next time you pull anything funny i'll just tell sana you can't love anyone more than you love yourself."
she fakes a gasp, exaggeratingly placing a hand over her mouth, "you wouldn't."
"oh i would."
she sighs exasperatedly, "guess i better pack all my mirrors up and head back to file a marriage certificate for miyeon and me."
you spend the rest of the date with miyeon, laughing and joking around, you're appreciative of the distraction she offers and you're glad that she's here. even if you weren't her first priority here, you're glad to have made a friend in her.
⋆｡°·☁︎
after the group date ends, sana is off for her solo date with wonsik. it's strange being so involved in her dating life all of a sudden. you're used to her telling you about her relationships, the dates she's been on, but now you're directly involved and you're seeing how she acts around the people she's dating. it was a whole different side of her.
that night, there's another rose ceremony. you're with all the contestants again, mingling and talking while waiting for sana and wonsik to make the grand appearance after coming back from their date. you'd overheard from the producers they were going on a helicopter ride and having a forest picnic, all very extravagant and fantastical.
so it's not too much of a surprise when everyone rushes towards the loud engine sounds and rotating helicopter wings yelling and full of excitement.
wonsik steps out first and he turns and extends a hand for sana to take.
she steps out in a stunning satin pale green dress that clings close to her curves and accentuates her shoulders and collarbone and the jewelry hanging around her neck. she's all smiles and holding wonsik's hand as she walks towards all of you.
you down your drink, finding relief in the way the alcohol burns down your throat.
let the hunger games begin.
⋆｡°·☁︎
sana has been neglecting you today. that's what you're thinking as you down your eighth drink of the night. you're fine though, completely, perfectly, fine fine fine.
jacky's calling for another round of shots and you cheer with everyone as you all down it. you think sana's off with dae or someone but you lost track after the fifth drink.
"miyeon!!" you're grinning as you sling an arm around your new friend.
"woaaah y/n how much have you had to drink?"
"like eight but i can hold my alcohol good trust." you place your hand on your heart in mock salute.
"uh huhhhhhh c'mon let's get you some water."
"no! no water, only more alcohol! c'mon do a shot with me!" you're pouting and stamping your foot like a little kid, trying to drag her back towards the guys who are whooping and calling for another round.
"nuh uhhhh." her firm is strong around your waist as she drags you away towards a semi-secluded alcove and sits you down on the cushioned bench.
"who woulda known you'd be this kinda drunk y/n. sana must have her hands full with you." she's teasing as she gets you to drink a full glass of water, making sure you've drunk the whole cup before putting it away and sitting next to you.
you're pouting, "sana has her hands full with all of YOU actually. she doesn't have time for me here. i don't even know why she brought me here. i haven't done anything except watch her get it on with like every single person here." you hiccup, slurring as you're talking.
miyeon's frowning, a hand at your back, rubbing circles in a comforting pattern, "i'm sure that's not true y/n. you're her best friend, she just has a lot going on right now. imagine dating 24 people at the same time, anyone would have a hard time even remembering all of those names."
"yeah but my point still stands! there was literally no reason to bring me on here! she literally just did it to make me suffer i swear."
miyeon's surprised, "why are you suffering?"
you bury your head in your hands, groaning, "ughhhhhhhh i don't knowwwwwwwww. i just feel so icky whenever i see her while we're filming. like am i just being an attention whore or am i like like friend jealous? it's just so weird seeing her talking to people with like, the intention to be with them."
"well do you have this problem outside of filming? like in your real lives, do you get friend jealous easily?"
you look at miyeon dumbly, "no because sana's always going to come back to me."
she sucks in a breath and you can't tell what the expression on her face means, "what's different now then? are you worried she's not going to come back to you?" she's gentle and soft and you feel so comfortable with her, so easily able to open up to her despite only knowing each other for two days. reality television really does make everything go so much faster.
"no it's not that. she's not the type of person to just leave her friendships behind after she gets into a relationship. she cares too much about people to do that." you lean your head onto her shoulder, sighing in defeat.
"you know what it sounds like to me?"
"hmm?"
"have you ever thought that maybe you l-"
before she can finish the sentence, everyone is being called back into the house for the rose ceremony. tonight, 3 more people were going to be eliminated leaving 16 contestants. you hadn't even noticed that sana had come back from her talks with the other participants, when you spot her, she's looking at you strangely, you've never seen that look on her face before and you're a little scared at what it could mean. you hadn't done anything to upset her had you?
miyeon sighs next to you, "c'mon." she stretches a hand out to you, and you take it gratefully, walking back hand in hand, forgetting what miyeon was saying while thinking about what that look sana was wearing meant.
⋆｡°·☁︎
you take your place next to sana, a little shakily as your vision blurs and you giggle a little. sana sends you a sharp glare as a hand shoots out to support your back and helping you right yourself. you mutter a quick sorry and stare down at your heels, remembering you're being filmed and most of the country will see this tomorrow.
sana starts reading out the names of the contestants that will continue to stay and you're checking off names slowly in your head. some people you still haven't really gotten to know too well yet, but you were getting a little better with names as you recognise most of the ones being called out.
you cringe when jihyo's name is called out and she saunters out with a bright smile, kissing sana on the cheek before receiving her rose. you smile for jacky, eunji, and jiwon, and it's not really a surprise that wonsik already got a rose on his date with sana.
slowly the roses wittle down, and then there's only one left.
hold on.
you look up to assess the remaining contestants.
miyeon.
you meet her gaze and she smiles at you encouragingly, always the optimist.
there's no way sana wasn't going to pick miyeon for the last rose right? they had hit it off so well on the first night and miyeon was picked for the group date today as well. as far as you know they still had good banter going on at the date and her talk with sana tonight seemed to go off without any hiccups as well.
yeah there was nothing to worry about. sana would pick miyeon.
"heechul."
the next few moments go in slow motion for you. you're dumbfounded as you watch heechul step forward with a sleazy smirk on his face, stalking forward with misjudged confidence. behind him, miyeon has kept her smile on her face but you can see the slight fall in her eyes.
"heechul, will you accept this-"
before you can think, before sana can finish the sentence, you're stepping forward and knocking the flower out of her hand.
everyone looks at you in shock and there's a stunned silence that fills the room for 2 seconds before Heechul interrupts.
"ahaha I will Sana thankyou-"
"No!"
He looks over at you with a smoulder on his face, an eye twitching as he tries to compose himself in front of the cameras.
Sana's snapped out of her shock now as well and turns to you, quite clearly angry with the scene you're making.
"outside. now."
she doesn't give you another second and turns on her heel. you gulp, you'd rarely seen sana angry, she was always the happy-go-lucky sunshine girl, and never was that anger ever directed at you.
"what the fuck was that?" after you'd scrambled after her.
you're still dumbfounded, "w-what? what do you mean what was that? i should be asking you that!? how could you pick heechul over miyeon?!"
her expression grows cold, "that's not your choice to make. much less on national television."
"and that's not an answer! i don't understand sana! you got along so well with miyeon and i told you what an ass heechul was! i don't- i can't- it doesn't make sense!"
"it doesn't have to make sense to you. love doesn't make sense. i need you to stop butting into my decisions. i chose heechul and that's that. miyeon is going home tonight."
"you asked me to help with your decisions! you asked me to be here! and i don't see the point of that if you're just going to ignore everything i say and do what you want. i may as well just go home if you're going to be like this the rest of the season!"
sana's face softens and she almost looks... ashamed?
"i'm sorry. please don't go home. i do need you here. i promise i'll take your suggestions in after tonight... just not on this. please don't argue with me."
you've started to pace in frustration in front of her, "but i don't understand! why? why would you ruin this poor girl's chance with you when she's clearly infatuated already and-"
"she's not! can't you see?! she likes you!"
you pause. what?
sana's blushing and clearing her throat, "anyway, if she's not here for the right reasons then she shouldn't be here anyway. so i'm sending her home."
you burst then, "what?! sana what the fuck?!"
she bristles, "don't what the fuck me! you didn't see the way she talked to you at the group date today! and then just then, her arm around you like you're her girlfriend," she spits the word out, "rubbing you're back and looking at you like that! you'd have to be blind not to see that she has feelings for you!"
"my eyes are right here sana." you point aggressively at your own eyes, "and i can see just fine thank you very much. miyeon was keeping me company at the childcare because my best friend didn't have time for me and left me to fend for my own with all these strangers! and miyeon was helping me again tonight because i was out of my mind drunk! i felt like shit and she was being a good friend while you were off god knows where making out with every other person in here!"
"they're strangers to me too you know?! at least i'm making the effort to get to know them when you barely even know half their names! and that's like half your job here too isn't it? and i'm sorry that i have to talk to everyone here because if you didn't know, we're filming a show and i'm the main attraction so i'm sorry that i actually have to go around and date people because that's the whole point of this fucking show!"
you're both breathing heavily, emotions running high.
a producer finally gains the courage to interrupt the two of you, looking like she wants to be anywhere else, she gingerly comes up and taps sana's shoulder. "i'm sorry guys but we have to get back to filming. the contestants are getting antsy and we need to reshoot that last rose because-" she glances at you with pity, "um yeah. so if we could get back that would be really great..."
sana's tense when she speaks up, "alright. i'll be in in a second."
the producer doesn't look convinced but nods quickly and rushes away again.
sana sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "go home. you're drunk. i'll get one of the staff members to drive you."
you're about to protest when she interrupts, "you're drunk y/n. and definitely not television ready. go home." she says with finality and turns around, leaving you outside.
you're seething in the aftermath, adrenaline running high and blood pumping. you push off the staff that sana's sent, instead, walking around the side of the house and towards the front where the limos waiting to take the eliminated contestants home would be waiting.
you're still replaying the argument in your head when the eliminated participants finally exit the house. you spot miyeon immediately, her head still held high, and you feel another flush of anger at the fact that she was eliminated.
when she sees you she offers a slight smile, "hey y/n. funny we're meeting like this again. last time we were in this same limo coming to this place all hopes and dreams right?"
you sigh at her positivity, not holding back when you pull her into a hug and squeezing.
"i'm sorry you had to leave like this. i know how you felt about sana. i'm sorry she couldnt reciprocate that."
her arms come up around you as well, and you feel her release a heavy sigh, a little bit of her mask cracking.
"i appreciate that. i hope you take care of her y/n."
you bite your lip, trying not to think of the fight the two of you just had, nodding anyway to reassure her.
"although i know you will. knowing how you feel about her..."
you pull away this time, looking at her in confusion, "what do you mean by that?"
she smiles at you sadly, "you might not realise it yet. but when you do it'll all make sense. i just hope it won't be too late then."
"what- miyeon-"
she's leaving and getting into the car, slipping something into your hand.
"take care y/n. it was nice knowing you even though it was for a short amount of time. i'm glad we became friends. thank you for being there for me during this." she smiles and closes the door, and you can only look after her as her car pulls away.
you look at what she's slipped into your hand.
a small piece of paper with a line of numbers written in neat cursive.
you clutch it a little tighter, grateful for her extension of friendship even beyond all of this, in the form of her number.
you turn to the poor staff member who's been awkwardly hovering behind you and gesture that you can go now. he sighs in relief and leads you towards another car to take you home.
⋆｡°·☁︎
sleep doesn't come easy. you're tossing and turning. you had heard sana come home and go straight to her room not long ago. you sigh, feeling conflicted. on one hand, you felt guilty that you had almost made a public embarrassment out of yourself and of sana, it was lucky the show wasn't aired live. but on the other, you were still confused how she could think miyeon had feelings for you of all people. it was so obvious to you that miyeon only had eyes for her. she had said it herself on the first night, that she wouldn't be guilty of any cross dating within the participant pool and that she was only set on sana.
a strike of lightning interrupts your thoughts, followed by the booming sounds of thunder.
you sigh, turning again in your sleep, pulling the comforter up higher, trying to find sleep.
then the second thunder crack shakes through the house and you jump up. sana.
you're out the door in seconds, hand resting on the door handle to sana's room. you hesitate. did she even what you there? you knew she was deathly afraid of thunder and lightning. back home you would always crawl into bed with her, shooshing and talking with her, distracting her until the storm passed and she could fall asleep. but you were afraid things were different now after your fight. you had never fought before, and things were so different with the entire show going on.
a third thunder clap sounds out and you hear a light yelp from the other side of the door and your decision's made. you push through quickly, shutting the door softly behind you as you inch closer to her bed. you cautiously lift a leg onto the comforter, careful not to startle her, and make your way under the blanket where she's shivering and crying, curled up in a ball with her hands over her ears.
you curl up behind her, sliding your arms over her midriff and resting your head against her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. you feel her hands come down to yours immediately, clutching on tightly. she's still whimpering softly and crying but you squeeze against her even tighter, whispering i'm heres and you're okays.
slowly, you feel her breathing even out, she still flinches with every thunderclap, but she's not so tense anymore, uncurling herself but not letting go of your hands.
you're tracing patterns onto her palms, hoping to relax and distract her.
"thankyou." her voice is croaky and quiet.
you hum, nuzzling your nose against the back of her neck, "of course sana. you're my best friend. i'm always going to be here for you."
you feel her tense up again.
you don't want her to push you away so you interlock your fingers, holding her hands firmly in yours, not letting her break away.
"i'm sorry for overreacting tonight. you're right. this is your show and i'm just meant to be here to provide advice, and you can choose whether or not to take that on. but the decisions in the end are yours to make. and i'm sorry i disrespected that."
she sighs, turning in your arms, your heart flips a little at the proximity, but you busy yourself with wiping at her eyes, clearing away the wet tear tracks.
"i'm sorry too. i- i don't really know what came over me. maybe i was just a little scared you'd replace me. you told me on the first night that miyeon reminded you a lot of me. and then seeing the two of you get along so well, and her being able to be there for you when i wasn't, i felt a little angry with myself i think."
"i could never replace you sana. but i need you to understand that miyeon didn't have feelings for me. and i know i need to learn to be a little less clingy and needy, you're carrying a lot right now and you don't need to babysit another person on top of all that. so don't be angry with yourself for that, you've always been there for me in the past whenever i've needed you. and i know you'll always be there for me in the future too."
she frowns, "but not tonight. i wasn't there for you tonight." she brushes your cheek gently, "are you okay? why did you drink so much? that's not normally like you."
you sigh, placing your forehead against hers and closing your eyes, reveling in the closeness and familiar comfort sana offered.
"i don't really know. miyeon was saying something but she never got to finish her thought."
you know sana frowns again at the mention of miyeon because you feel her forehead wrinkling a little. you chuckle, "stop that." you poke her side and she wriggles away from you, pouting.
you hum, "it's hard to explain sana. it's like- like i can see everything now y'know? like i'm there when you're flirting with others, i'm there when you're in the process of getting to know someone and dating someone and it's different because that's not a real experience. like in the real world, i'm not going on group dates with your 6 other romantic interests, i just get the brief summary from you after you've finished the date. and i don't know- i- this is a hard word to use but i think i get jealous? but like- ugh i don't know it's all just so confusing and-"
you blink. a soft warmth is pressing against your lips. then as soon as it came it's gone.
your eyes are wide as you look into sana's equally widening eyes.
"oh my god i'm so sorry i didn't-"
and then you're pressing your lips against hers again. it's addicting. her lips are soft, and fit perfectly against yours, and this feels nothing like all of the kisses you've shared with your various exes. she's returning the kiss, moulding against you, a hand coming up to rest on your neck as you feel her fingers slide into your hair. your fingers come to rest naturally at her waist, which you find is just skin because her top has ridden up a little and she gasps at the cold feeling of your hands on her body.
you take the opportunity and lick into her, earning your first moan that shoots a line of energy straight to your core.
you're on top of her now, and it's your turn to moan into her when you feel a leg lift and press right against where you need her most. you're nipping down her neck, laying soft kisses and licks and she's panting under you, both of your minds hazy with lust and want.
she speaks up first though, "w-wait y/n-"
you hum against her pulse point as you suck on it, biting softly, relishing the moan it rips out of her.
"should we really- ah- be doing this?"
you pause, lifting off her a little, the sight of her panting and out of breath, lips swollen from kissing, hair messy, and a slightly darkening spot at her neck, all of it going straight to your core, as you grind down a little on her leg.
"fuck- i want to. i want you if you want to."
you're back at her neck, licking and sucking a path up to her ear, taking in an earlobe and nipping lightly.
she jolts up into you and you both moan at the slight friction it provides. she's closing her eyes, "oh fuck it- ye-s yes god- yes i need you y/n please."
and that's all it takes for you to reattach your lips, the storm, the show, everything else completely forgotten, just the two of you in this moment. you could deal with everything else tomorrow.
#sana#minatozaki sana#twice sana#sana x reader#twice x reader#sana imagines#twice imagines#sana x f!reader#sana x fem!reader#royaltozaki
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𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 | 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒑𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊
☁︎ oscar piastri x female reader
☁︎ oscar is experiencing thanksgiving with your family for the first time….and boy is it crazy
☁︎ no warnings just fluff and maybe a tad overwhelmed oscar lol
☁︎ i can’t believe october is starting to come to an end, these little fall fics have been making me so happy, i think ill do another one in december too to get ready for christmas 🤭 p.s thanksgiving in canada is beginning of october in contrast to the USA which is end of november in case you’re confused :)
Thanksgiving was a little chaotic in your family, when everyone gathered together and all sat down for the annual fall meal, only this year it was your boyfriend Oscar’s first time attending it with you. He knew you got your vibrant and extroverted personality from your parents, but now that he looks back on it, he’s pretty sure your entire family played a part in it.
“Oscar when do you and my little sunshine plan on having children hmm?” your grandma asked, causing you to choke on your water
“Nana!”
Oscar laughed patting your back gently to help with your coughing
“I think whenever the time is right, we’re in no rush”
“Well you’re only getting older!”
You shook your head at the old woman’s antics your mother stepping in before you
“Mom, leave these two alone, they’re both still in their early twenties, no babies for them, eat your turkey”
“Never too early to have a baby, such nonsense!”
Leaning over to Oscar you looked at him apologetically
“I’m sorry, she’s very persistent”
He only smiled, kissing your forehead as he squeezed your knee under the table
“I don’t mind at all, it’ll happen someday anyway”
The two of you may have been young but you both knew that you were endgame for each other, there was no one else on earth more perfect for either of you, and everyone was starting to see that.
“So Oscar, i’ve been watching your season, looks pretty good this year”
It was your father’s time to chime in, Oscar nodding as he gave your father 100% of his attention.
“Yes, it’s been going really well, the car feels good this year, so i’m looking forward to finishing the next few races and then having some time off” he replied, a bit hesitantly as he always did with your dad
“That’s good to hear, I’d love to come see a race sometime”
You smiled
“You should come to Las Vegas with us dad! You and mom have been wanting to go back there so why not?”
In hindsight you should have asked Oscar first if he was okay with this, but knowing him, he wouldn’t mind at all. He loved spending time with your family as much as you did with his.
“Oh that’s a great idea honey, i’m sure we can figure something out!”
The rest of dinner went off without a hitch, calm conversation and laughter shared between everyone, you could already feel the classic thanksgiving hangover hitting you as you lounged on the couch tucked into Oscar’s side, your eyes heavy and tired.
“NO YOU JUST SLAPPED ME WITH ANOTHER PICK UP UP 4 IM GONNA KILL YOU!!!”
Oscar laughed hearing your little cousins playing uno in the other room as you rolled your eyes. If anyone was the loudest on these holidays it was the kiddos.
“YEAH WELL YOU JUST SUCK AT THE GAME THEN!”
It wasn’t long before your aunt went in there and told them off, quiet chatter resuming after the mini scream fest over the classical card game had ensued. Truth be told you were nervous for Oscar to experience thanksgiving with your family because you weren’t always put together and fancy, you were loud and energetic, your family loved playing games, having treasure hunts and playing games of charades.
You knew deep down it wouldn’t everyone’s cup of tea but Oscar wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d never felt more comfortable and at home like he did with you when you visited your family. It made him feel normal and accepted, he didn’t have to worry about the media, the race track or the constant murmurs going around the paddock.
“How was your first thanksgiving experience love?”
He smiled down at you, his finger tips running up and down your back
“I loved it, really it was so much, I can’t wait to keep experiencing this craziness with you”
“Oscar loves the thanksgiving craziness…never thought i’d say that”
The Aussie laughed leaning down to kiss you
“Well now I get to experience a different craziness from yours everyday”
“Hey!”
You frowned jokingly but he was quick to once again bring his lips to yours, deepening the kiss enough to have your face flush, thankfully your family too enamoured in their own activities to notice your little display of affection.
“I love you and all your craziness darling, it’s what makes you, you.” he stated softly, taking his time to admire you
“I love you more.”
Oscar had all he needed right in front of him, he’d never felt more welcomed and appreciated than he did right now, curled up on the couch at your parents house after a delicious dinner, something he would continue to be apart of for years…and years to come.
#rueswrites#ruesanswers#ruesanons<3#ruesasks#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri drabble#formula 1 masterlist#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#oscar piastri f1#f1 drabble#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine
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4.2 Major
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, mentions of Bucky's past.
Word Count: 1.5k
Previously On...: Bucky convinced Sam to lie to Lily for him if she asks where Bucky is tonight.
A/N: In the car, I just can't wait / To pick you up for our very first date!
Is it cool if I hold your hand? / Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?
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Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
You were nervous. Why were you so nervous? This man had already had his mouth on your lady bits; there was no reason to be nervous about just having dinner with him, right? Yet your heart was racing as you waited for Bucky to come pick you up for your date.
You must have checked your hair and reapplied your lip gloss a thousand times when the doorman buzzed to let you know you had a visitor. After telling him to send Bucky up, you glanced at the clock– he was exactly five minutes early, and you stifled a giggle at the thought of him pacing in front of your building until an appropriate time.
Soon enough, there was a gentle knocking at your door, and with a last glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you opened the door.
You both stood there for a moment, taking the other in. Bucky looked positively resplendent in a black suit and burgundy button up– no tie, and the first few buttons left undone. The contrast with his eyes made them look even more blue than you remembered from this morning.
“Hi,” you breathed.
“Uh, hey,” he said, seeming to come out of a trance. “You… you look fucking amazing.” You ducked your head to hide your blush– you’d put on an emerald green, A-line Chiffon cocktail dress with an asymmetrical skirt that hit just below your knees and a peekaboo cut in front– held together with beading– and a v-tieback. “Stole my breath for a minute there.”
“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks.
“Oh, these are for you,” Bucky said, handing you a bouquet of white roses.
You held them to your face and inhaled. “They’re gorgeous, thank you,” you said, moving aside to invite him in. “You’re spoiling me, you know that, right? First the orchid, now the roses?”
You moved toward the kitchen to find a vase to put the flowers in.
“Did you like the orchid?” Bucky asked, almost shyly, as though he was afraid he’d made a wrong move.
You turned back to smile at him. “I loved it,” you told him honestly. “How did you even know orchids are my favorite?”
Bucky chuckled and nodded his head toward your living room wall, where you had three giant paintings of orchid flowers hanging over your sofa. “Just a lucky guess, I ‘spose.”
“You’re very perceptive, Mr. Barnes.” You put water in the vase, setting the flowers inside and placing them on the dividing wall between your kitchen and dining room. “There,” you said, stepping back to admire them.
“You ready to go, doll?” Bucky asked, extending his arm to you.
You took it gladly, slotting yourself next to him as though you were made to fit there. “I am,” you said.
Bucky had borrowed one of Tony Stark’s sports cars for the occasion, and you felt incredibly fancy as you drove through the streets of the city in it. You and Bucky made small talk on your way to the restaurant where Bucky had made a reservation for the two of you, and you found him so incredibly easy to talk to. You talked about the differences in the army between the ‘40s and now, and shared a few light war stories. By the time you reached the restaurant, he had you laughing so hard at a story he told about living with the Avengers that you thought your sides were going to burst.
You weren’t sure what kind of establishment you’d expected him to bring you to, and truthfully, you would have been thrilled with a regular old burger joint, if you were going there with him, but when you stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, you let out a gasp. The restaurant overlooked the Hudson, offering a dazzling view of the sunset over New Jersey. The tables were all tucked behind and around towering pieces of greenery– palms and ferns, and blossoming shrubs offering a screen of privacy for every group of diners. Overhead, cafe lights hung from pergolas, washing the area in a soft, warm light. It was heavenly.
Once Bucky gave his name and the hostess began escorting you to your table, he leaned in to whisper to you “What do you think?”
Your head was moving in every direction as you tried to take in every ounce of ambiance. “It’s gorgeous, Bucky,” you told him truthfully. “How did you find this place?”
“Pepper Potts recommended it,” he said. “She said it was the perfect spot for an intimate meal. Plus, they close for the winter, so if I wanted to take you, I’d better do it on one of our first dates.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, studying his face. “You’re planning multiple dates already?” you asked, a curl to your lips.
“‘Course, doll,” Bucky said as you approached your designated table. “Gotta whole list of things I wanna do with you.”
You felt your face flush as he pulled your chair back for you before gently pushing you in.
“So, what’s on this list?” you asked him once he’d sat himself down.
“Nuh-uh,” he chided you. “They’ve gotta be surprises, at least until we get closer to ‘em.”
There was no way this man was real, you thought. No way you, of all people, could get lucky enough to catch his eye.
The waiter approached, asking if you would like wine for the table, and a panicked look flashed across Bucky’s face. You asked the waiter for a few more moments to decide.
“What is it?” you asked him.
“I have no fucking idea what wine to get!” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Fuck! I knew I should have asked Pepper!”
You reached across the table and put a comforting hand on top of his. “Hey, it’s okay,” you told him. “I actually don’t know shit about wine, myself.” Bucky gave you a skeptical look, but you nodded reassuringly. “How about we just get cocktails, instead?”
The smile Bucky gave you then was equal parts relief and gratitude. “Yeah,” he said, looking much happier. “I’ll get me some of that delicious girly shit.” He winked at you, and you laughed.
The waiter returned shortly, and you both placed your orders. Once he left, you realized you needed to come clean about something.
You cleared your throat. “So, uh, I actually have to confess something to you,” you told him, fidgeting with the napkin you’d placed in your lap.
“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, leaning forward, eyes sparkling in the soft light.
You closed your eyes, feeling horrible for what you were about to say. “I… I Googled you,” you told him.
Realization dawned on Bucky’s face. “Oh,” he said, expression falling. “Yeah… uh,” he coughed into his hand. “That makes sense. So, you came to dinner to, what? Just let me down gently?”
Your mouth hung open in surprise. “What? No!” You reached over to grasp his hand again, this time interlocking your fingers with his own. “Look, the truth of it is, I told a couple of employees– my friends– about meeting you last night, and they brought up your trial.” Bucky visibly flinched at your words. “I admit, I knew nothing about it– it happened around the same time I was getting divorced, so I was kind of preoccupied for a while,” you said. “So, when my friends told me about the charges, I got… curious.”
You noticed Bucky was studiously looking down at his bread plate, not meeting your eye. “Hey,” you said, tugging gently on his hand. “Look at me.”
He slowly raised his eyes and you were struck with how… remorseful they looked. “The more I read,” you told him, “the more I realized the whole thing was a trumped up circus. Anyone with an ounce of empathy could see that you weren’t responsible for what you were made to do; that you were a victim. They just needed someone to blame, and you were a convenient scapegoat.”
“Doll,” Bucky said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “you don’t understand. I–”
“No, Bucky, please,” you said to him. “I don’t want you thinking you have to disclose anything to me unless you want to and you’re ready. I just want you to know that I don’t hold those things against you. I don’t blame you, and I don’t think you should be blamed. I want you to know that none of it matters, not to me. I look at you, and I don’t see the man the media tried to paint you to be. I see someone sweet, who makes me laugh– someone I really want to get to know better. I just want you to know all that.”
Bucky’s eyes were wide as saucers as he took in your words. You were almost afraid you’d said something wrong, after he hadn’t spoken for nearly a full minute, but finally, he squeezed your hand. “Thank you,” he said, voice choked. “You… you don’t know what that means to me. I can’t tell you what that means to me– I don’t have the words. I just… thank you.”
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
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Our Minds Entwined------------------------
ch 1, ch 2
Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid
in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member
Chapter One:
The bar was abuzz with the kind of infectious energy that only comes from a group of friends riding the high of a celebratory night out. In the center of it all was Evelyn Gideon, her laughter a melody that seemed to turn heads and draw smiles even from strangers. She was the embodiment of sunshine—her allure as undeniable as the curves she carried with effortless grace.
Evelyn raised her glass, her eyes sparkling with excitement and liquor. "To new beginnings and breaking ceilings," she toasted, her voice carrying over the crowded room.
Her friends echoed the sentiment, "To Evelyn, the FBI's newest and brightest!"
As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed easily, touching on memories, aspirations, and the occasional playful banter about the 'aesthetically pleasing' aspects of her new job.
Evelyn leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "You know, I've had my fair share of late-night googling and let's just say the FBI isn't all work and no play. They've got some serious eye candy too."
Her friends giggled, urging her on, and she obliged, a little tipsy from the copious amounts of wine. "There's this one agent, my boss, Aaron Hotchner. Oh, and another, Spencer Reid. They're like the real-life versions of those FBI recruitment posters. So hot, it's criminal."
The group erupted into laughter, unaware that just a few tables away, two men had paused their conversation, a knowing look exchanged between them. They said nothing, just an awkward cough as they went back to their drinks.
Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before averting his gaze.
Aaron's expression was unreadable as he scoffed, "Interns."
The laughter from Evelyn's table continued to ripple through the bar, a stark contrast to the muted tones of conversation at the agents' table. Spencer's eyes flickered back to his drink, the ice clinking softly as he swirled the glass, a thoughtful expression on his face. Aaron, meanwhile, maintained his stoic facade, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.
Evelyn, buoyed by the warmth of the wine and her company, leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting across the room. She caught Spencer's eye again, realization drawing on her face, and this time he held her gaze, an unspoken challenge passing between them.
One of her friends nudged her, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "He's cute."
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with the implications. "I think that's my new boss and colleague."
Evelyn, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and her earlier comments, caught the agents' glance and felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over her. She fumbled with her purse, her laughter trailing off into a nervous giggle.
"Uh, I just remembered, I have an early meeting tomorrow, and I should really get going," Evelyn stammered, avoiding eye contact with the table of agents. Her friends, sensing her discomfort, offered her quick hugs and understanding nods as she made her hasty retreat.
As Evelyn vanished into the crowd, Aaron and Spencer's attention was momentarily captured by the bar's TV, where a breaking news segment flashed across the screen. They leaned in, their focus on a case they'd been following, the world around them fading into the background.
When they finally turned back, expecting to find the lively group still immersed in their celebration, they were met with the sight of an empty chair where Evelyn had been. A twinge of disappointment flickered across their faces, though neither would admit it aloud.
Spencer cleared his throat, "Well, interns are always full of surprises," he remarked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Aaron nodded, his gaze lingering on the now quieter table. "Indeed. But let's not forget, we were all there once," he said, raising a glass in a silent salute to their beginning memories.
"Statistically speaking," Spencer began, his voice barely above the murmur of the bar, "the chances of us overhearing a conversation about ourselves in such a setting are quite slim."
Hotch couldn't help but chuckle at Spencer's comment. "And yet here we are," he added, the hint of a smirk betraying his amusement.
—
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Evelyn's sleep softened face as she awoke to the chirping of birds and the distant hum of the city. She lay in bed for a moment, her mind a whirlwind of memories from the night before. The laughter, the wine, the unexpected encounter with Dr. Reid and Hotchner.
She was Jason Gideon's daughter, a fact that filled her with pride yet weighed heavily on her. At 23, she was young to be joining the FBI, especially the BAU, and she felt the pressure to prove herself as more than just a legacy hire.
Evelyn sat up, pushing back the covers as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Today was the day. Her first day at the BAU. A mix of excitement and nerves bubbled within her, but there was something else too—a hint of mortification. She couldn't shake the memory of calling her new boss and coworker hot within earshot. She hoped against hope that they hadn't overheard.
With a deep breath she rose and made her way to the mirror. She took pride in her appearance, and today was no exception. She chose her outfit with care, professional yet undeniably her.
As she applied her makeup, each brush was an attempt to paint away the embarrassment of last night. She styled her hair, letting it fall into soft waves around her shoulders. We one last glance in the mirror, she was ready.
Evelyn grabbed her gun and badge, the weight of them both a reminder of the responsibility she was about to undertake. She was a member of the FBI now, and she had a role to play.
—
Evelyn's heels clicked against the polished floors of the FBI building, a steady rhythm that matched her racing heart. She drew a deep breath, letting her bubbly personality shine through her nervous smile as she passed through the security checkpoint. She didn't spot Hotch or Dr. Reid, a small mercy that allowed her to collect herself without the weight of their gazes.
The first day formalities were a blur—ID photos, paperwork, and the endless maze of hallways. It was all so technical and impersonal, yet it was the gateway to her dream.
Then, a beacon of light, she spotted Penelope Garcia. They had connected over an online forum for crime fiction enthusiasts, bonding over plot theories and character developments. Garcia's vibrant attire and smile were just as welcoming in person.
"Penelope!" Evelyn greeted, her voice a mix of relief and excitement.
"Evelyn! Honey, you're even more stunning in person!" Garcia beamed, pulling her into a hug. "Welcome to the BAU family!"
As they chatted, Garcia led her to the bullpen, where Evelyn was introduced to the team. Emily Prentiss's firm handshake and measured smile spoke of strength and understanding. JJ's friendly nod and Derek Morgan's charming grin were disarming, making Evelyn's nerves ease slightly.
"So you're the prodigy Gideon was always bragging about," Morgan teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
Evelyn laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I hope to live up to at least half the hype," she replied, her tone playful yet sincere.
Prentiss leaned in, her voice low but encouraging. "We've all heard great things about you, Evelyn. We're glad to have you on board."
"And we'll make sure you find your footing," JJ added, her smile reassuring.
The warmth of the welcome eased the knots in her stomach. She was a part of the team, surrounded by legends, and yet, they made her feel like she was one of them—bright, capable.
"Gideon."
The newfound calm in Evelyn's stomach vanished as swiftly as it had arrived when she heard her last name echo across the bullpen. The authoritative tone of Aaron Hotchner snapped the easy atmosphere like a taut wire. She turned, her heart hitching as she met his gaze. For a fleeting moment, she saw the mask of his composure slip, a flicker of surprise that quickly schooled into neutrality. "A word, please?"
Derek couldn't resist the opportunity for a quip. "Don't keep the man waiting, he's not known for his patience," he said, eliciting a round of chuckles from the team.
Evelyn's heart pounded as she approached Hotchner's office, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts seeming to rest on one—he was going to confront me about what I said. She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
Hotchner's office was a stark contrast to the lively bullpen, its walls lined with commendations and case files. He gestured to a chair.
"Good morning, Evelyn," Hotchner began as he motioned her into his office. "Please, have a seat."
She moved past him, her senses heightened, astutely aware of the shift in his demeanor. As she settled into the chair, she caught him glancing at a file on his desk, his eyes momentarily distracted.
"I didn't expect you to be so..." he started, his gaze lifting to meet hers.
"Young?" Evelyn filled in, her voice a mix of confidence and self-deprecation, butterflies filling her stomach. "I get that a lot, but I assure you it won't affect my performance, sir."
In his mind, Hotchner corrected himself, Attractive, but he let the thought pass unspoken of course, cursing himself for even thinking it. "Of course," he said aloud. "Your age isn't a concern. Your qualifications speak for themselves."
He leaned back, interlacing his fingers as he regarded her. "As a new member of the BAU you'll be expected to undergo a period of observation. You'll accompany the team on cases, but your involvement will be limited until you've completed your training."
Evelyn nodded, absorbing every word.
"You'll be assigned a mentor," Hotch continued. "Dr. Reid will take on that role. He'll guide you through our protocols and procedures."
"I'm ready to learn and contribute, sir." Evelyn responded earnestly.
He had been called "sir" by many, but when the word left Evelyn's lips, it was as if he heard it for the first time. He caught himself staring at the lips at which the words came from, snapping his focus back to her eyes.
Hotchner's expression softened ever so slightly. "I believe you are. And remember, this team is a family. We rely on each other's strengths to face what most can't even imagine."
With a final nod, he stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Welcome to the BAU, Agent."
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x original character#spencer reid smut#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x original character#aaron hotchner x reader x spencer reid#aaron hotchner x original character x spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#fbi#Spotify
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YOUNGEST SULLY
summary the youngest daughter and sibling is just two years younger than tuk and she is so adorable. just how the sully family treats her.
pairing sully! reader x platonic! sully family
note reader uses she/her pronouns
neteyam was just ten years old when you were born
on a random day like any other day, you started crying in the middle of the night.
surprisingly, he was the only one who woke up from your ear splitting cries and he had to do something before you woke up everyone in the forest
call it brotherly instincts cause he handled it perfectly well
neteyam sturred in his position, his ears twitching at the familiar cries. he pushed himself to sit up as he rubbed his eyes gently. it was way too early compared to his normal waking time, but he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed at you because you're just a baby. and he learned from his dad that each and one of his siblings were like that too when lo'ak complained about how noisy you were.
he rushed up quickly and knelt down in front of you. his mother was completely asleep right next to you. he pondered why, in contrast to other times, she had been unable to wake up to the sound of your cries. nonetheless, he eventually concluded that she was exhausted from her restless nights. his father, too, has been occupied with his olo'eyktan responsibilities and raising five children.
it was his turn now as the eldest sibling to take care of you, he thinks.
carefully, neteyam embraced you in his arms. he had only ever carried you under his mother's watch once, but he recalled every piece of advice she had given him. make sure you support her head and rock her gently.
your sobbing subsided when you saw your brother and were replaced by whimpers and sniffles only. to avoid disturbing his parents, he took a seat on the corner of his home.
"are you okay now?" he asked softly. neteyam observed your eyes that were still swelled with tears, your bottom lip pushed into a pout. he giggled at the sight. "i guess you are since you're not crying anymore."
your chubby small hand reached for his nose and he scrunched them under your touch. immediately, you retracted your hand with a giggle thinking that it's like a loreyu.
your father, jake, had showed you one as he brought you around the forest. and that plant is your favorite.
neteyam smiled at the reaction. He doesn't mind at all being woken up to the sound of his baby sisters' cries if it meant he would have moments like this with her.
imagine the horror neytiri felt when she couldn't feel your warmth beside her
her eyes surveyed the area until it stopped on her eldest son, laid on the corner with you on top of his chest. you were babbling soft noises with a smile on your face as you slept.
neytiri cupped her mouth with her hand, taking in the cuteness of the moment
she wished she had whatever the humans used to capture memories for remembrance
when kiri was eleven, jake assigned her to help their grandmother look after you in her hut
she obliged without a thought because she loved watching you
unlike her annoying brothers, you don't spout annoying nonsense
being with your oldest sister has always been your favourite thing. even you could feel the serenity she radiated. when neteyam was unable to be found since his father is training him, lo'ak and tuk were having fun.
sitting between kiri's knees, your hands grasped her wrists and pushed her hands to clap against each other. you were cooing then babbling from time to time.
“papa gave you the toruk makto doll, but you’d rather play with my hands?” she asked.
her voice made you stare up with round eyes, as well as your ears perked up. as you let yourself slump forward, a playful look spread over your features.
kiri chuckled, familiar with your act.
after your grandma began teaching kiri how to be a healer, the two of you often roleplay in which you are the patient and kiri is the healer.
as you are with her during the majority of time when the warriors enter the hut to receive treatment, mo'at believes that you mimicked their behaviour. your observant eyes watching each action.
"oh no! we have a hunter who is hurt!" kiri faked a gasped and turned your body around.
you forced your eyes closed. giggles leaving your lips now and then.
"what could the cause be?" her hands touching your chubby stomach before trailing them up to your ears. "no, it's not the ears." then her fingers lightly tickled your neck which made you laugh. "nope, neck is fine. it must be… here!"
kiri tickled each of your sides causing you to thrash between her legs. a shrieking laugh could be heard inside the hut.
mo'at smiled at the sight of her grandchildren. kiri bending over to connect both of your noses, still giggling. moments like this, she begs eywa that they stay as children forever.
lo'ak.
he's not really the right person to look after you so jake doesn't leave you alone with him
why?
it's not because he's reckless. it's because you had no fear at all and lo'ak encourages it
you were just two when you tried jumping over a small fire. the fire wasn't big, so why should he stop you?
he was hanging from a branch with his legs over it. and you instantly made grabby hands, wanting to try it
jake feared that he would have to deal with another troublemaker when you grow up
that's why neteyam is always around when you're with lo'ak
lo'ak was eleven when he was first entrusted to watch you alone.
you were two.
just two.
and neteyam is already scolding lo'ak about how he wasn't holding you in the river. he felt like his soul left him when he saw you in front of lo'ak in the river, and nothing was holding you to him. you were literally sinking.
"bro, it's not like that. i will never hurt y/n like that!" yelled lo'ak. he felt offended that his brother would ever think that.
neteyam rolled his eyes. he was holding you by the hip, and you had a scowl on your face. "no baby would want to be in the lake sinking. skxawng."
lo'ak groaned. "she was not sinking! she tried to touch the ground with her feet! she kept crying when i wouldn't let her go!"
before neteyam could argue, you spoke, "i want lo'ak." you reached your arms out to him, indicating that you wanted to be held by him.
"no. we're going to mom and dad," neteyam firmly said.
lo'ak huffed as he rolled his eyes. he knew that his parents would scold him if they found out, especially jake.
you started sobbing as neteyam began to leave. lo'ak is the only person who ever allows you to do anything, hence you wanted to stay in the water with him for a little while longer. neteyam attempted to calm you, but it was ineffective. despite being in your father's arms, your sobbing continued to be loud enough to be heard.
neytiri was absolutely fuming when she found out
jake was bouncing you in his arms because your cries hadn't stopped
lo'ak was standing in front of them, head down
it was when you said your brothers name, reaching out to him, your mother stopped scolding him
lo'ak cupped the back of your neck as you rested your head on his shoulder.
maybe he was wrong for letting you do that, but he would never intentionally harm you. your brother adores you and he hoped that his parents see that
because tuk is closest to your age, she's your partner in crime
whatever she does, you follow
wherever she goes, you're right behind her
the two of you had no sense of what's wrong or right so you two didn't care
tuk was five and you were three. neytiri wasn't home because it was her hunt this time with her party. neteyam, lo'ak, and kiri were out to hangout with other kids their age.
so, it was just jake and his little girls.
jake enjoyed playing with his little princesses, but he was tired from his olo'eyktan duties. he tried to fight his drowsiness, blinking his eyes open. but with tuk laying on his stomach and humming a random melody, it was impossible.
"hm?" you tilted your head when you see a basket that had shells with paint inside them. blue, yellow, white. your favourite colours!
carefully, tuk moved from her father to you. her eyes shined at the shells and grabbed the blue paint. "the one who gets the most paint on their body loses!"
tuk dipped her hand in the shell and touched your chest, leaving a four finger mark. you whined and grabbed the yellow shell. doing the same thing she did to you.
from then on, it became paint wars.
kiri, neteyam, and lo'ak were shocked to see the hammock dirty with paint. even more shocked to see you and tuk covered with paint head to toe.
neteyam was quick to wake his dad because if his mom sees this, they were all in trouble
jake cursed when he was greeted by his paint covered daughters. he internally cursed himself again when you and tuk said shit because of him
there wasn't enough time to do anything because your mother was already home
jake received a great scolding from her
you are loved dearly by your family and they would do anything for you <3
it's only cut to the sully siblings because i felt like it's getting too long. if this gets much attention, i might make one for jake and neytiri !
#avatar fanfiction#avatar twow#sully!reader#family#jake sully x daughter!reader#neteyam sully#loak sully#kiri sully#neytiri#tuktirey#avatar imagine#avatar oneshot#neteyam fanfiction#loak fanfiction
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satin ➵ jacob bae
the pink ribbons that you and your daughter used to dress up jacob now used on you.
general genre/warnings ➵ smut, fluff!, soft but teasing dom!jacob, slight shibari with ribbons, pet names (baby, teasing use of daddy), foreplay, fingering, nipple play, impregnation, creampie (duh), aftercare, ends with the start of a second round
word count ➵ 4.1k words
taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays
a/n ➵ did i write this the night before my flight and the two plane rides? yes. i had to get it out. also, i think this horny thought caused my period to come early T__T anyway... shoutout to @kimsohn and @juyeonszn for being my crazy horny bffs... sliding this to some cobie lovers... @sungbeam @snowflakewhispers <3 don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!
want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask!
masterlist
The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread. The sun would barely be out, the idea of sitting through countless hours of lectures, the contemplation of your ongoing list of work, work, work, that needs to be done once you return from a tiresome day.
But now, it's different; sunlight refracts through window panes, sounds of birds bounce off the walls, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread, but waking up has gotten easier—maybe because you have someone to wake up and go back home to.
“Daddy, one more!”
“Sweetheart, we'll run out of ribbons for your hair! Don't you want to show your friends your pretty, pink ribbons?”
Your eyes peel open to the sight of home—the loves of your life seated by the vanity, one helping the other get ready for school.
Well, sort of.
Your little devil continues to bubble as her nimble hands gather more satin strands while your husband, Jacob, continues to brush her hair.
The white sheets you snuggle your nose into still smell of Jacob—fresh laundry and baby powder.
“But daddy! Look at you,” her finger points at the mirror, making his gaze land on the reflection. “You're beautiful,” she coos, pronouncing the first half of the word like a name.
He chuckles at her compliment. “Thank you. You have a good eye for fashion.”
Jacob's adorned with pink, satin ribbons. Every part of him that you can name probably has a ribbon tied on it. Some were loose, almost as if they would fall if he were to move, but some were tight, too tight, for your liking; his skin spills from bands of satin and his muscles show off more when they're restrained.
Maybe you needed to get out of bed.
As you sit up, the sheets rustle from the movement, causing your husband and daughter to look back at you.
Jacob’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Oh no, did we wake you up? I'm sorry.”
“Sorry!” Your daughter's apology quickly follows his.
You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips as you get out of bed. As you walk towards them, your eyes catch sight of your freshly woken up state; the contrast between you and your husband and daughter has you giggling.
“God, I have a bird's nest.”
“No! You have beautiful hair made for,” your daughter pulls out another blush strand. “Ribbons!”
A pair of lips meet your cheek. “She's right,” your husband mumbles into your skin. “You're beautiful.”
As he parts away, you meet his gaze. He shoots you a lazy smile, one that reminds you of the times you wake up beside him, and your cheeks are dusted with rose-colored hues.
Warmth continues to spread throughout the room—not from the sun but from them.
You roll your eyes before you look at your daughter, your hand reaching out towards her. She hands you the torn-up satin and you smile. “Thank you.”
Then, your eyes rest on the man who stands beside you, still tied up in ribbons. Your free hand trails over where they rest—hair, forearms, waist to name a few.
(Though, you let your fingers play with the one around his waistline.)
“Where should I put this one, honey?”
Your daughter hums for a moment. Jacob shakes his head, not in disbelief that you're playing into your daughter's shenanigans but more so that you're going to make her late for school. And it'll be okay, you tell yourself, because he's the one in charge of dropping her off today.
“What about the neck? Like a necklace!”
Your eyebrows shoot up at her suggestion, a playful smile now on your lips. “A good choice! I'm sure daddy will love it.” The pet name rolls off your tongue so well that it has a grunt leave Jacob. The annoyed expression flashes through his features like a blink, but he tries to cover it up with an innocent smile.
“C’mon, you'll be late if we keep doing this. Let me finish fixing your hair and then we can go to school.” He tries to take control of the situation but you won't let him—not this time, at least.
“Nu–uh,” you disagree, moving so that you can stand right behind him. “You can do that while I put this necklace on you,” the satin piece meets his neck before you lean in to whisper into his ear, “right?”
The distance between you two—his back pressing against your chest, your lips grazing against his ear—is enough for Jacob’s tongue to turn into cotton. It didn't help that you were doing all of this right now, right when your daughter is here getting ready while he's pressed for time. But he knows that it won't do any good to deny the request if you two, so he nods.
Your hands guide the ribbon to wrap around his neck, the ends meeting past his nape which gives you enough to tie it into a bow. Your fingers busy themselves trying to form a beautiful knot while Jacob focuses on brushing your daughter's hair.
And when you tug on the satin, making it wrap tighter around his neck, he stills for a moment.
“Daddy?” Your daughter looks up at her father who halted his actions.
“What's wrong?” The question leaves your mouth, the playful tone that clings onto your words fails to make sense to her but has Jacob growing annoyed.
“Nothing, sorry,” he quickly says with a smile to cover up his behavior. “Just got distracted.”
She's oblivious to whatever is occurring between you two; you make the most out of the situation.
Thanks to the distance, it’s easy to hear his exhales—his sounds. His shoulders move along with them; heavy, deep, desperate.
Your fingers brush against his skin, and it blooms in rose tints. When your eyes catch sight of him swallowing down nothing—everything—you can’t help but let mischief take over.
You finish tying the satin into a perfect bow. The expanse of his skin covered in rose-like hues, dolled-up just for you—it’s enough for warmth to spread all throughout your body.
You don't get to see Jacob like this—all adorned with pink ribbons, restrained without being restrained to an object. It's humorous; you've switched positions just this once thanks to your daughter's shenanigans.
Your lips hover where the bow rests, your breath grazing his skin, and it has his hair standing. Just one kiss—one bite—to complete the present, and then—
“And done!”
He quickly moves, dragging your daughter along. Your gaze now lands back to your reflection, a pout now resting on your lips.
When you look at the two, a satisfied smile rests on your daughter's mouth while Jacob sports a relieved expression. “Go say bye now. We'll be late.”
Due to your husband's rushed words, your daughter quickly pecks your cheek, her teeth bumping against your skin. “Bye bye! I'll see you later!” You smile at her before she rushes out of your shared room with Jacob.
When your gaze leaves the door, it lands on Jacob who only looks at you with eyes filled with irritation, frustration, dominance. “Anyway, I’ll—”
His hands grip your waist, pulling you close to him; noses bump against each other. His breath grazes your lips while you hold yours in.
“What was that?” The question is asked with such sweetness but you know he means the opposite.
You gulp down nothing. “W—what do you mean?”
“Don’t play games with me, baby.”
There’s the Jacob you know. Satisfaction paints his features; a smirk with eyes that flicker down occasionally to your lips. And when you feel his grip tighten around your waist, air is knocked out of your lungs.
He leans forward, as if distance needs to be closed, but his lips never touch yours. “Baby, baby, baby,” he says with such care, and yet…
“You know what you did. Just say it.”
You know better. He’s giving you a chance to apologize—to repent—for what you did. But instead of settling for that, you lean forward, lips interlocking with his. His hand shimmies its way under your shirt, a thumb drawing circles on your hip bone, and warmth blossoms further.
You part away, leaning your forehead on his. Your fingers find their way to the bow that rests around his neck, fiddling with the ends of your masterpiece.
“You need to bring her to school,” you whisper words he doesn’t want to hear. All he wants is an apology—an explanation—for your behavior this morning, but you don’t give in.
So he rolls his eyes, a chuckle leaving him before he lets go of your waist. “I’ll see you later.”
You let your hand fall back to your side, and you shoot him a smile. “I look forward to it.”
Before you know it, he makes his way towards the door, still wrapped in pink satin. The thought of Jacob showing up in front of your daughter’s school adorned in bows has you giggling.
“I can hear you laughing!”
You roll your eyes at his comment. “Just go!”
You wonder what he’ll bring you after he’s done with the task at hand.
If you were expecting anything good, then you are absolutely wrong. (Well, that’s a lie. You were hoping for something, but you weren’t expecting this.)
Whatever present you were hoping for—food from your favorite cafe that’s only a 2-minute drive from your daughter’s school or an opportunity for you to finally do whatever you want unto jacob—couldn’t prepare you for what’s happening now.
“You just couldn’t behave.” A pair of hands roam over your torso as teeth tug on the expanse of your neck, satin grazing your skin. You hold back your sounds, eyes fluttering close, until he digs in harder, wetter.
A mewl escapes you without a second thought. His lips leave your neck and his hands focus on tugging your oversized shirt off, leaving you only in a pair of night undies.
You peel your eyes open, greeted by the sight of Jacob wrapped in satin. Your gaze trails to where the ribbons rest—some threatening to fall off of him while others still making sure his skin, his muscles, spill out.
(And it didn’t help that the white t-shirt he wears clings to his torso, probably from its fitting or thanks to the ribbons.)
His hands rest on the space around you and his legs cage you down, restricting you from any movement like you did with him. You’re lightheaded, maybe from lip locking, the position you’re in, or even from the sight of your husband. And with your heavy breaths, a smug grin takes over Jacob’s face. His hand tugs on the loose satin around his waist. It falls to your stomach, letting his shirt cling less to his torso.
“What if we play dress up?” He hums as he lets his lips trail from your jaw, to your shoulder, all the way to space between your tits. He looks up at you, and says, “Like how you did with me this morning.”
A grunt leaves you.
He grabs the ribbon, fingers fiddling as he figures out what to do with you. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I have my time with you? My fun with you?”
When you shake your head, Jacob chuckles. “Cobie, c’mon—”
“Nu–uh,” he retaliates like how you did then. “Don’t try to weasel your way out of your punishment.”
He sits and chucks his head up, signaling you to lift your torso up. You follow his orders, and his hands dart around so that the strand wraps around your upper chest.
With his fingers busy tying a bow, your hand dart towards the ribbon wrapped around his forearm. Your fingertips fiddle with satin and his warm skin, and you both relish in your final moments of freedom.
“There we go.” Your eyes dart down to your chest, spotting a perfectly tied pink bow resting above your tits. And when his nails dig into your waist, a mewl escapes you as you arch your back.
Jacob loves it all; the ribbon that was once tied around his waist now tied right above your tits, the sounds that leave you from the different sensations of satin and his hands brushing your skin, and your hazy eyes that meet his wide awake ones.
He litters you with kisses from cheeks, neck, chest. “You’re so pretty for me,” he mumbles in between. Once his lips hover over yours, noses bumping against each other, he whispers, “I just want to devour you.”
You catch his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him close. He moves one knee in between your legs, letting you grind your clothed slit against his thigh, as his hands find themselves on your tits. Fingertips flick against your nipples, causing a moan to escape you.
He parts away, letting you catch your breath. As you attempt to control your breathing, you watch him reach for the ribbon that rests on his shoulder and tug it undone. Its length is longer in comparison to the one that rests on your chest; perhaps your daughter may have overestimated how much she needed to tie around Jacob’s shoulder.
And before you know it, he grabs hold of your wrists and lets the satin strand circle around them. “Too tight?” He asks once he ties a knot around them.
You shake your head. “Just right.”
He smiles at you. “Good. Now,” his hands find their way on the band of your underwear. “Let me taste you.”
He tugs it down, exposing you to him. The contrast between you two—nude and fully clothed—makes your head spin.
“Jacob, please.”
He hums. “‘Please’ what, darling?”
“Remove your clothes.”
“Making demands?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll see about that.” He spends his time undoing the ribbon that’s wrapped around his arm. “Plus, I enjoy you like this, just physically unable to fulfill your desires.”
A groan rips out of your throat. You hate Jacob.
His hands brush against your upper thigh, tying a ribbon around it. When he finishes, his hand lingers, teasing you with the short distance between him and your slit.
You’re about to curse at him until you watch him slowly move down, and his face is closer to your pussy than his hand. He breathes you in and a groan rips out. “God, you smell delicious.”
Before you know it, his tongue darts towards your slit, drinking up your juices. A moan leaves you, your back arching at how he eats you out. And when his nose nudges against your clit, your mewls get louder, uncontrollable.
Your head is spinning from how Jacob plays with your five senses; satin strands wrapped around you, his tongue touching you in places you longed for him to graze against, the squelching noise that comes from him eating you out has your head spinning. The lack of power—control—turns you on even more.
When you try to look down at him, his eyes are already on you. The eye contact knocks the air out of your lungs. When his hand reaches to the bow that rests on your thigh, fingers playing with pink satin, you throw your head back.
Your lower half finds itself moving on its own, lifting itself from the mattress as it attempts to chase the pleasure. But Jacob rests his forearm on your stomach, holding you down, and continues to eat you out to his liking. Still, you try to move under the restraints; it’s reflexive, out of control.
His mouth leaves your slit, a whine leaving you. “Baby, if you keep that up, you won’t get what you want in the end.”
You try to control your breathing, bringing your satin-tied wrists close to your face.
He finally strips off his shirt. You’re lightheaded when you look at him, top naked with one singular satin ribbon left—the one you tied around his neck.
He reaches for the button of his pants. “You’ve been such a treat for me, let me reward you.” His pants and underwear are down, revealing his hardened length that leaks pre-cum.
He moves your restrained wrists away and reaches for your lips with his; the taste of you still lingers on his lips. He sucks on your bottom lip, causing a whine to leave you.
He moves away so that you can catch your breath—or so you thought.
Before you can control your heartbeat, you feel a finger prod its way into your pussy, having you clench over the digit. Your eyes roll back as you moan, and he curls his finger, hitting your walls.
“God, look at you. Such a moaning mess over one finger.” You do your best to look at Jacob, seeing him tonguing the inside of his cheek as he keeps his eyes on your face. It causes patches of rose-tones to appear in your cheeks. “I wonder how you’ll take my cock. It’s been a while, after all.”
Before you know it, another finger enters you. Your eyes are wide, your bottom half filled with pleasure. And when his thumb plays with your nub, you don’t know if you’ll be ready for his cock after all.
You thrash in bed, overwhelmed by pleasure, and Jacob only watches. The sight of you struggling to do anything while he holds you down, through satin or his hands, causes more precum to leak.
“J-Jacob, I don’t—”
“No, baby, you will. You’ll hold out until you get on my cock.” It’s a demand, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to fulfill it, but you try.
That is until his finger curls hits one spot; all resolve is broken. As he notices your expression shift, he smirks and continues his ministrations. A series of moans escapes you as he continues to hit your g-spot.
You swear you feel the band about to snap, and you consider telling Jacob that you’re about to come. But for selfish reasons, you don’t want to; all you want is to finally come.
You’re close, short rapid breaths escape you as you clench tighter around his digits, until his fingers leave you. It’s almost like he knew you were close.
“Fuck!” You complain only to be met with Jacob’s chuckle. “I was so close! Are you kidding me?”
He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t I tell you to hold out?” He moves close to you, his cock lining up to your pussy. “You were going to disobey my orders if I kept going.”
You roll your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re irritated from being left high and dry.
“Fuck you—”
His cock enters you without warning, cutting you off and causing a moan to rip out of you. He goes at a steady speed, building the pleasure up.
“You’re still tight even after that?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you only answer in a series of moans. He chuckles. “My baby can’t even answer me properly this early on, and we’ve only started.”
Before you know it, his cock leaves you, causing you to whine. You were going to complain, but he flips you so that you rest on your knees and elbows.
Without a warning, he enters once more which has a moan rip out of you. He goes at the same pace but he feels deeper, hitting crevices that your fingers could never reach.
As Jacob continues to fuck you, you try to look back at him, and you watch how his eyebrows scrunch as he watches his cock enter you. Your eyes catch sight of the pink satin that clings to his skin and you cannot help but clench around his cock, making him moan along with you.
He finally notices your eyes on him, and he tongues the inside of his cheek. Then, he leans forward, face-to-face with you as his chest is pressed against your back.
“Baby.” He smiles at you—not a smug one but one filled with adoration. And yet…
“Should we try for another?” The air is knocked out of your lungs. His smile turns sinister as he feels you get wetter at the thought. “Wouldn’t you love that? Another baby? Another opportunity to be filled to the brim?”
And he starts to pick up the pace, causing you to let out a series of moans. “God, you just want to be filled with my cum, don’t you? Wouldn’t you love that? Just us trying again, again, again, for another baby, me filling you with cum.”
He watches your breathing get heavy over the idea; to be filled with Jacob’s cum for days, weeks, months, years as if it were your only job or purpose in life.
You feel it coming; the rubber band is about to snap at any moment.
“Fuck, I’m close—”
“Come for me. Do it, baby,” he chants such words. “I’m going to come. Going to fill you up, going to impregnate you.” He keeps going at such a fast pace, and his words do nothing but help you get close. “And we’ll keep going baby, going to make sure you’re filled with so much cum that I’ll have to plug my fingers to keep it in.”
Your pants get heavier as you try to meet his thrusts. You’re so close, but you don’t know what you need. You’re too light headed to think of what to do until you feel fingertips draw circles on your clit. Your moans get louder, uncontainable.
You look away from him, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Your gaze lands on your satin-tied wrists. “Come for me, baby. Let me impregnate you,” he whispers into your ear.
The rubber band snaps. You clench around his cock as you come, a long moan leaving you. And with how you clench around Jacob has him coming with you, his cum filling you up.
It doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, riding out his high to ensure that you’re filled with enough.
Once he stills, you find yourself collapsing down to the bed. You attempt to control your breathing, eyes closed from what just occurred.
“Baby, let me flip you. I need to remove the ribbons,” Jacob says with care.
You only hum. His cock leaves you, causing you to hiss as you are still sensitive. His hands find themselves on your waist, flipping you so that you face him. He undoes the ribbon wrapped around your wrists and puts it away. He takes an opportunity to examine your wrists.
“Does it hurt?”
You shake your head, smiling at your husband. “I’m okay.” You still see the pink satin wrapped around his neck. “That was good.”
He chuckles before meeting your lips once more. Once he parts away, he takes in the sight of you in your fucked-out state dressed in pink ribbons that were once wrapped around him. His heart grows warm.
As his eyes trail down to your slit, he gasps. “Oh no, it’s leaking.” His fingers scoop his cum that leaks out of your pussy and shoves it back in, another hiss leaving you. “We don’t want to waste any cum.”
A giggle leaves you. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. “I love you.” Your fingers graze against the ribbon that still rests around his neck. “I’m glad you kept this on.”
He hums. “I mean, I knew it turned you on, so I played into it. I understand though. After seeing you tied up, maybe I need to learn shibari.”
You gulp at his words and he notices. A smirk lies on his lips. “Of course, I should’ve known. How come I never knew about this?”
You shrug. “I don’t know—well, I do know. I think I was just too shy to bring it up.”
“Baby,” he starts off, giving you another kiss. “There’s no need to be shy around me. I would love to know everything about you, even what gives you the most pleasure. What else do you like?”
You chew on your cheek. “Well, I really want to do shibari on you.”
“Deal.”
“I know you might not—wait, really?”
His lips press against your cheek. “I’m willing to try it out.” You cannot help yourself but smile. “So, now?”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jacob, you just gave me the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life, and your fingers are still in me. I don’t know if I can go another round.”
“You sure?” He smirks before letting his lips trail to your neck. “Just a little foreplay can change that.” He starts to suck on your skin, and you cannot help but let a moan slip. And when his fingers start to move, your eyes roll back.
God, you need to buy more ribbons for your daughter. (And for you and Jacob, of course.)
#deoboyznet#kflixnet#bjnet#k-labels#works of moni#the boyz#jacob bae#jacob bae smut#the boyz x reader#the boyz imagines#jacob bae fluff#jacob bae x reader#the boyz smut
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