#i meant to do more than one for this week but then this took me forever
Text
Soldado (Alexia Putellas X Reader)
One of the prompts inspired me, so here ya go. It's definitely rusty but please let me know what we think!
Prompt: “Don’t just say that and then walk away!”
Walking up to the front door of the Putella’s home was one the most nerve wracking experiences you have ever experienced in your first 18 years of life. This home had become your sanctuary in the last 3 years, the family had taken you in and made sure you were loved and cared for and in return all you did was ruin the best and only friendship you ever had.
You had grown up with an absent mother and a drunk father, to say your childhood had been rough was an understatement. You were able to fend for your self by the age of 6 and you knew to hide whenever your father came home after 8pm. When he wasn’t drunk he was a half caring father, but you could never shake the black eyes and bruises you learned to hide. The only good thing he ever did for you was to make sure by the age of 15 you had been a good enough football player to be in the training with the Espanyol team.
This is where you met Alexia Putellas, she was this young superstar but she still befriended you. It didn’t take her long to see through the lies of where the bruises came from, and one late practice where you avoided going home she got you to spill the truth. From then on she made sure that holidays, school vacations, and everything in between you were invited to stay with her family.
Her mom became like a mother you never had, and Alba was the sister you never had. But Alexia she just always remained Alexia, you never knew what that meant until you turned 18. You had finally realised that she was more than just anything to you, and that you were madly in love with her. Never being able to keep a secret from her, you confessed your feelings to her 3 weeks ago and you haven’t heard from her since she walked away without responding.
Which brings you back to today, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door of the only place you would ever consider a home ready to say your goodbyes to the family you wish you still had. The last 3 weeks have been a whirlwind, and it took your drunk father almost breaking your arm and sending you to the ER to finally realise you needed to get out. You had walked the streets of Barcelona aimlessly trying to find a solution, and when the universe showed you a sign you jumped at it.
Shaking your head you gained the courage to reach up and knock at the door of the house. While you wait for someone to answer you hope that you can get this out without breaking down.
When the door opens you come face to face with Alba and you say softly “Hola, Albs.”
Alba smiles softly and leans against the door, blocking your way in, and she asks “what are you doing here Y/N?”
“I need to talk to Ale” you tell her deciding not to drag this out.
She crosses her arms over her chest and asks “Why would I let you do that? She shut down and hasn’t said anything for the last weeks and we haven’t seen you, you must have hurt her Y/N.”
Shaking your head you tell her “I never meant to do that Alba, but I promise I just need to tell her one thing and then I am gone.” You know you sound like your begging and you hope the desperation in your voice helps.
Before she can respond Alexia shows up at the door behind her sister and says “Alba its okay I got it.”
Alba turns and looks to her and then turns back to you and says “if you hurt her again I will hurt you.” She finishes with a glare and then moves back into the house.
Alexia steps outside on the porch with you and softly shuts the door. You take a moment to take her in, knowing this will be the last time you may see the women who has your heart. She’s in her most comfortable state, a pair of footy shorts, a soft hoodie (you note is one of yours) and barefoot.
You both stand there in silence for a minute and she finally breaks it and says “I am not ready to talk to you about it.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I came here to tell you one thing and then I will be out of your hair, you wont need to worry about avoiding me” you tell her softly.
“what? Y/N whats going on?” she asks softly stepping closer to you.
You take a step back and say “I’m leaving, I quit the team and I joined the army. I know you don’t understand it but I need to not be here anymore, and I need to do something thats for me, and will ensure I get away from him.”
She stares at you and doesn’t say anything but a soft “Y/N.”
“No, don’t do that, this isn’t about you this is for me. I love you Alexia and I will always be in love with you but I cant stay on the side line of my own life anymore, I need to become the best person I can be and get out from this dark cloud that is hanging over here. Its for the best, I cant wait to see you become the superstar I know you will be, but I cant do that here, watching it and knowing that you don’t love me back, that you aren’t in love with me. So this is goodbye Ale”
You slowly move down the stairs and move to wipe the tears under your eyes, and you make it to the end of the walkway when she moves and says “Don’t just say that and walk away from me Y/N! Thats not fair.”
You pause and turn your head towards her and says “what’s not fair is losing everything I have ever wanted because I have never been able to lie to you, I am doing something for me and you have to understand that.”
You don’t let her add or say anything else as you turn your back on her and move to your car, you hop in and start the engine driving away to your new life without looking back.
8 YEARS LATER
After 8 years of being a proper solider and training to better your self, you were finally able to settle down, and of course Barcelona would always have a hold on your heart. During your basic training your superiors noticed how easy it was for you to learn and communicate in many languages, add in that you knew how to fight and take it hit it made you the perfect soldier for a special ops team.
During your 8 years of active duty you spent 3 tours in Iraq, Afghanistan and other War torn countries. And when you were not on tour you were either in the UK or the USA learning and bettering your skills to be a better help for the team. It was a long 8 years of constantly being on the go and when an offer came up to go back to Barcelona and be no longer on active duty you took it.
They wanted your skills to help teach younger inexperienced soldiers and you craved the freedom and your bones ached for a stable home for your self. The Barcelona Police force hired you and were more than happy to have you work for them and also assist the army in their training.
Barcelona was where you had your own personal demons, and you knew after 8 years of running it was finally time to slow down and face those demons head on. It helped you were much stronger and mentally tougher then when you were 18 and you knew you needed to face them head on.
What you didn’t expect was to have to face one of them only a month into your new life in Barcelona. You had been out on patrol with your partner and were called to an assault at one of the smaller beaches in town. You got out of the passenger seat of the car and did a scan of the surroundings and you noticed a small crowd gathered at the edge of the sand and one person lying on the ground.
You met your partners eye and you both walked over, you with your military training on high alert, one hand on the hilt of the gun at your hip, your eyes roaming the surroundings. When you got closer to the crowd you almost stopped, when you noticed who was standing off on the edge of the crowd but you pushed through when you saw the guy on the ground get up and start to run at someone else in the crowd. You and your partner both sprang into action and got in between them and the guy you were holding tried to take a swing at the other and you easily subdued him and had him on his back with his hands locked behind his back in the blink of an eye.
Once he was secure with the handcuffs on your hip you hopped up and hauled him up with you, you turned and met your partners eyes who nodded at you and had his guy also in cuffs. He turned to the crowd and asked for any witnesses to what happened, as you moved your guy to the car and sat him in the back seat.
You sat him down and asked him his side of the story. After listening to his side you closed the door and left him in the car as a second patrol car rolled up for the second guy. You nodded to them and mentioned the guy int he back of your car and you walked back to the crowd. You took a deep breath and readied your self to face the first of your demons.
“Who’s next to be interviewed?” you asked your partner as you walked up beside him, and he pointed to the group of 3 girls to the left.
Moving towards them you introduced your self “Hola, I am Officer Y/L/N and I will need to see your IDs and then I can take your statement.” They all handed their IDs over and as you were matching them and recording their names and information you couldn’t help but take a peak at the women who held your heart.
You hadn’t seen her since that day 8 years ago on her mothers front steps, you had followed her career and you knew she was in the middle of a miracle season and she was on track to win everything. Seeing her on the computer screen through a grainy stream wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. Just looking at her was slowly igniting that spark inside you that you thought you had buried 8 years ago.
“Can one of you tell me what happened?” you ask them ready to take notes and keep this professional.
“so basically, we were lying here and the guy in your car came up and started to give us a bit of a hard time, but were used to it. SO we told him to leave us alone, and then the guy there with your partner walked up and tried to defend us, and the other guy just threw a punch at him.” You had their IDs so you knew this was Maria Leon who explained it.
“they started going at each other and thats when Ale called 911, the commotion drew more people over and they stopped fighting when they had a crowd and then you guys showed up.” Jennifer Hermoso explained the rest to you.
“thank you, so to be clear, the one in the back of the car threw the first punch and harassed you?” you asked wanting to finish this up.
Maria smiled and said “I wouldn’t say harassed, we can take care of ourselves, but yes he started it and threw the first punch.”
“And you both agree?” you ask.
“Yep, he did” Jennifer agrees.
Alexia just nods and remains silent through the whole exchange. You nod and say “okay this clears things up, someone may be in touch but you are free to go.”
The two of them smile and say their thanks and move to leave, but Alexia remains standing in front of you silent.
“ale you coming?” Jennifer asks her and it seems to shake her out of it and she nods and moves to gather her stuff.
You nod at nothing and move to go back to your partner, you both agree you to the statement you got from different people and then you move to walk back to the car together. Before you can get half way there you turn back and look toward Alexia and you meet her eyes, as she’s still watching you.
It takes your partner nudging you for you to break contact and you move to get into the car. before you can fully sit you hear “Officer Y/LN” yelled out behind you and you turn and see Alexia moving quickly towards you, you close the door and step towards her and away from your partner hearing the exchange.
“Yes Alexia?” you ask her softly as she stops a foot from you.
“You’re back?” she asks you to the point.
“I am”
“for good?” she asks you again straight to the point.
“I think so yeah”
“okay then.” she says and moves to walk away.
“thats it?” you ask her confused.
She shrugs and half turns to you and says “How does it feel being on the other end of someone walking way from you? It sucks, being left to wonder what they mean and what they are going to do.”
You can feel the pang in your heart listening to how broken she sounds and you ask her “Can we talk about it?”
“now you want to talk? What happened to talking 8 years ago?” she turns on you half shouting and you know that she’s drawn and scene.
“ale, please can we talk somewhere not here, and not when I am on duty?” you ask her.
She looks around and shakes her head and says “you know where to find me, if you even want to.” As she finishes she jogs away towards her friends and you are left standing there wondering if this is a demon you will be able to tame, or if you were doomed to be in love with someone you can never have.
#woso imagines#woso x reader#woso imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas#espwnt x reader
557 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Angst]
Fuckboy Yan sleeping with his shy lifelong best-friend's childhood crush - unaware that the two had already been on multiple casual dates so far-
"I hate you."
Three little words... They sound unfamiliar coming from your mouth of all places. As children, your best "friend" aired his hatred for you often - most cases being whenever you denied him your juice boxes at lunch. He never meant it though- Regardless of how much of a pushover you were back then, he could never truly hate you. Not now. Not then. He always thought the same could be said for you. He had always been trouble for you, yet you allowed him to cling to your side - despite his bold claims that it was the other way around. You both had your faults, but he knew you'd be together till the very end.
So why... Why are you looking at him like that now?
"You have everything. Why... Why couldn't you just let me have this one thing? Why couldn't you let me have them?"
His first mistake was writing your recent burst of happiness off as something else- You had been so happy these past few weeks - happier than you'd ever been in his company. He assumed it was because of that new promotion you received at work. Never would he have guessed it was because of them- His heart couldn't take it.
"I was hesitant to give them your number when they asked. I realize now they were just using me to get to you. Maybe I thought too highly of them, but you- I trusted you."
He didn't know. They nevet spoke a word of your budding relationship through their little fling til the very end. It's all their fault. He'll kill them.
"Just... Stay away from me from now on."
He'll kill them for doing this to him. To you both. He was never the best guy, but he was trying so hard to be good enough for you someday. Now that chance is gone. They wouldn't feel half the anguish he's going through now if he snapped their pretty little neck.
"Hey.... Yeah, I talked to them. They took it bette4 than I thought.... Why don't you come over one more time? Y/n's over it already so seeing each other one last time couldn't hurt, right?'
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere insert#yandere scenarios#male yandere#yandere oc#yandere blurb#yandere angst
656 notes
·
View notes
Note
anything with logan and being back in florida ? would appreciate!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻
sunburn ✢ logan sargeant (18+)
pairing: logan sargeant x reader (established relationship)
warnings: smut, porn with plot (lots of exposition sorry i got carried away), one use of y/n, soft dom!logan, switchy!reader, fingering, edging, unprotected p in v, lots of pet names, begging, lots and lots of praise, body part worship if you squint, cursing, logan’s a simp, reader is implied floridian, implied childhood friends to lovers, sunburns, fluffy intimacy
summary: it’s been too long since y/n has been back in the states and she is NOT used to the florida sun like she used to be, but don’t worry, logan knows how to take care of her.
word count: 3.5k
author's note: sorry i got soooo carried away with this i don’t know what came over me. this was NOT supposed to be smut but im just a florida girl crushing on a florida boy here y’all lmao. i’m down so bad for this man that i just went kinda crazy. also this was my first time writing smut so pls bare with me. this is inspired by my friend (and fellow logan girly) who just acquired a nasty sunburn lmaoooo. enjoy!!!!
it had been quite a while since you and logan had been back home together. well, not really, but the weather was typically a lot nicer in the winter months than in the spring and summer, and you were not used to it. after you and logan moved to london together full-time, you rarely saw the sun anymore, and your matching pale complexions certainly reflected that sentiment.
obviously, the miami race weekend was a big deal for the whole sargeant camp. aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood friends, and grandparents would be making their short trip down i-95 to see logan race, but it also meant that you and logan could spend a week together at home, in the sun, in each other’s company. a free vacation of sorts. logan’s parents were busy getting the house ready for the hordes of guests that were to soon occupy the space, so you and logan were more than happy to get out of their hair and into the back yard for some relaxation.
it was sunday, and you found yourself lounging out on the dock, lost in a romance novel that was probably making you lose brain cells, when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you.
“y/n!”, logan yelled from where him and coco were playing on the grass. “have you been applying sunscreen?”
you put your book down, letting out a small huff at his question. logan often took a rather paternal role over you, not in a weird or demeaning way, but rather in the sense that he always has your best interest at heart. and you loved that about him, loved how he always wanted to take care of you without being asked.
you looked down over the chaise longue you were laid out on, thinking there was a bottle of SPF next to your drink, but all that was there was the can of sparkling water you had been nursing.
“don’t have any; i’ll be okay!” you called back, hoping that would be the end of it.
“you want me to bring you some? it’s no problem,” logan replied, positioning himself to get up off the ground.
“don’t worry about it; i’m coming inside soon anyways!” you half-lied, knowing that logan usually respected your wishes when it came to things like that. you knew you weren’t necessarily telling him the truth, but he knew you and your stubbornness, and he knew it was not his business to try to fix it.
another few hours had passed, and logan and the dog had long gone inside to find something else to do. you had stayed out, vowing to finish your book in one sitting. as you closed it, you stood up from the lounger, grabbing your long-abandoned can from the ground, wrapping yourself in the towel that you had been laying on, making your way back into the comfort of the house – and the air conditioning.
walking in through the kitchen, you pass logan’s mom, who was cooking dinner for the family.
“oh sweetie, looks like you got some color on you!” she exclaims, chopping up some vegetables.
“yeah, it’s been a minute since i’ve had time to tan! i missed the florida sunshine too much.”
“well, logan’s in his room, and dinner’s in about an hour if you’d like to freshen up,” mrs. sargeant said sweetly, motioning towards the hallway towards logan’s room.
upon your arrival, logan moved his laptop out of his lap and onto the bed next to him. you took the towel off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bikini, when logan’s eyes went wide with shock.
“what, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bikini before?” you quipped, reacting to his sudden change of expression.
“y/n, you are bright red, like ferrari red,” logan replied, serious as a heart attack. you make your way to the vanity over his dresser, taking in your current state. logan was right. you were burnt.
“what the fuck dude, i swear i wasn’t out there that long,” you snapped, poking and prodding yourself in the mirror, letting out a wince when you stumbled over a particularly sensitive area.
logan gets off his spot on the bed, making his way towards you, joining you in front of the mirror. his hands immediately fall to your hips out of instinct, but he makes sure not to grab too tightly due to your new look.
“baby,” he says, placing his chin onto your shoulder. you let out another wince, reacting to his touch. “i told you to wear sunscreen. now look at you, my little lobster…”
“this isn’t funny,” you pout, and he leans forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. you spin around in his arms, now facing him face-to-face rather than through the mirror.
“stop pouting baby, and go hop in the shower, please. the sooner you get some cold water on you, the better you’ll feel. i can feel the heat radiating off you from here,” logan said with a giggle. his hands linger around your ass, and he gives a slight smack to send you on your way, which elicits a shrill yelp from you due to the sensitivity of the area.
“are you at least going to join me?” you question as you make your way to his en suite, stopping in the door frame with your arms crossed across your chest. logan lets out another giggle.
“and listen to you whine the whole time? no thanks, plus i showered like an hour ago,” he replies, which garners a predictable whine from you. “if you make it quick, i might have something that can help you,” he adds, and you turn on your heel into the bathroom, shutting the door with a slam.
and he was right; the shower hurt like hell, but you know that had he been there, you wouldn’t have been able to properly soak in the cold water, so you silently curse him for being right.
you walk back into logan’s room, wrapped in your towel, when you see him sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. he hears you approach, putting his phone down and grabbing the clear bottle off the bed next to him.
“i found you aloe; well, my mom did. she said your burn is one of the worst she’s seen,” logan said, presenting the bottle to you like it was a participation trophy.
“is that supposed to make me feel better or worse, logie?” you questioned, feigning offence from his comment.
“well, the comment probably won’t, but hopefully the aloe does,” he replied. “c’mere, baby,” he cooed, his arms outstretched, welcoming you into his arms. you take your spot on his lap, legs draped over his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you in place. logan places a kiss to the bridge of your nose, and along your cheeks, leaning in to admire the newly-formed freckles that were threatening to peak out from underneath the harsh redness of your skin.
“your freckles are back; reminds me of when we were little, trying to catch fish with my dad in the backyard. you were so bad at it; still are to be honest, but it’s okay because you still look cute trying to bait a hook,” he laughs, his breath giving a cooling sensation to your cheeks, and you wish he would keep talking just to feel his breath against your skin.
“logan, baby, the aloe?” you suggest, knowing that the time he’s wasting is killing you. all you crave is the feeling of the lotion on you, and his hands being the ones to apply it.
“sorry, didn’t mean to get sentimental on you, just being here with you makes me think about stuff like that. i sometimes wish we could go back…” logan trails off, and you know what he’s thinking about. he often thinks about the memories of you growing up, how much he missed you when he moved away to the uk, and what it meant to get you back. you like to think of those moments too, sometimes, but he often gets in his head about it.
“i know,” you coo, lifting a hand up to card through the longer hair on the back of his neck, as a way to soothe him.
he lifts the bottle of aloe up towards you.
“may i?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up in an inquisitive way.
“of course you may. how do you want me?” you ask, a mischievous look in your eye.
“do not say it like that, you minx,” logan shot back, your innuendo catching him by surprise.
“keep talking crazy like that, and we might have a problem,” he snapped, although with no actual malice behind it. “you can lay on your tummy first, though, and i’ll go from there, if that’s okay,” he said, his expression softening as he looked at you.
you climb out of his lap and onto your stomach on the bed next to him, and he straddles your back to get the proper angle.
“this okay?” he asks, tugging slightly at the towel that is still loosely wrapped around your back.
“log, you’ve seen me naked countless times; of course it’s okay,” you quip, turning your head so he can see the side of your face. he leans down, planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek, blowing a raspberry there. this elicits a giggle from you, wriggling underneath him.
logan drags the towel down your body slowly, his fingers barely grazing your warm, sensitive skin, standing up on his knees to pull it out from under you.
“i know we aren’t having sex or anything, but could you at least take your shirt off or something? this feels too clinical,” you say, causing logan to burst out laughing above you.
“you are not a real person, i swear to god,” he quips, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion. “is that better, princess?” he says sarcastically, using the nickname he only gives you when you’re acting like a handful.
between your fits of giggles, you let out a “mhm” that signals to logan that he is free to proceed. this evokes an eye roll from logan that you catch out of the corner of your eye.
his attitude doesn’t last long, however, because before you can protest, his lips find your shoulder blade, peppering kisses along the top of your back, feeling his stubble graze across your skin. it burns, but feels so good at the same time.
“so sweet for me, logie,” you groan, melting into his touch. he reaches for your hair, still damp from the shower, to move it out of his way, as he makes his way across the plane of your body.
all he can manage is a drawn out “hmmmmm” as he feels the warmth of your skin along his cheek.
he pulls away suddenly, and you whimper at the loss of contact from him.
“i know, i know,” he cooes, and you hear the bottle of lotion being opened just out of your periphery.
his hands make contact with your skin again, feeling the sensation of the cool liquid as he massages it in. his strong hands make their way up and down your back, causing you to arch only slightly, if it wasn’t for him sitting squarely on your ass.
“you’re killing me, logan,” you half-whisper, his actions genuinely taking your ability to speak at a regular volume, the intimacy of it all being just a little too much for you.
“feels good, huh?” he asks, and although you can’t see it, you can tell that he’s cocked his eyebrow at you, and you’re surprised he’s been able to behave himself this long.
his hands work swiftly, massaging the liquid in with long, deft fingers, the sensation driving you crazy.
“logan, i want you, please,” you whine, looking up over your shoulder to meet his gaze, your eyes softening in an almost begging manor.
“i thought you said we weren’t–”
“i lied. i’m a liar. i need you right now,” you beg, as logan stands back up on his knees to allow you to roll over underneath him, him now settled on your thighs.
“fuck, baby, i can’t say no to you,” he huffs, not sure exactly how to make the next move. he looks down at you splayed out in front of him, taking in the sight before him. a hand reaches down to caress down your chest, fingers grazing slightly over your nipple, causing your breath to hitch.
“we have to make it quick, okay? can you be good for me?” he asks, his hand lingering on your left breast.
you let out a whimper, shaking your head slightly.
“words, baby,” he sighs, his fingers massaging into the tissue of your chest.
“yes, i’ll do whatever you want,” you whisper, unable to find your voice with how turned on you were.
“that’s my pretty girl,” logan cooes, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, adjusting himself so he’s slotted between your legs. the kiss deepens, his tongue finding its way into your mouth, as he swallows your muffled moans, trying to avoid the awkward conversation with his mom later.
“gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispers, his hand running up and down your side, the warmth of his hand searing your sensitive skin.
“god, i feel like we’re in high school again,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.
“except i wasn’t nearly as good then as i am now, though,” he smirks, diving down to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to the base of your neck, softly nibbling on your pulse point.
“are you gonna prove it?” you ask, trying to rile him up.
this question evokes something in him, his breath against your skin coming hot and sudden, and you could feel the deep exhale from his nose.
leaning up to your ear, he whispers, “you are such a brat.”
the sensation from the whisper mixed with the sting of his words sends a shock straight to your core. he’s not always the best at dirty talk, but he still somehow knows exactly what to say and when to say it.
“touch me, logan,” you manage to squeak out, your breath growing heavier the more you took in his words, and he was eager to oblige.
with that, the hand that found comfort on your hip trailed its way down between your bodies, grazing the softness of your stomach, fingers oh-so-gently teasing your folds.
“so wet, huh? so worked up for me? you drive me so fucking crazy, you know that?” he growls, his voice rasping as he begins rubbing small circles against your clit with his thumb. “one or two, baby?” he asks, and you know exactly what he means.
“two, please”, you whine into his mouth, body arching up into him before he even has the chance to touch you properly.
“good girl, take it so well,” he groans, sliding two fingers into your cunt, almost too slowly. his voice is almost unrecognizable, the threat of being too loud taking over. his thumb continues its pattern on your clit.
you feel the tension building as he fucks his hand in and out of you, but not before you feel him slowing his pace down.
“i know you wanna come now baby, but we don’t have long. i’m gonna stop, and we can come together, okay?”, he half-whispers.
his hand moves from its spot between your thighs back up toward your lips, as he rests his fingers on your bottom lip, cocking his eyebrow at you.
“o-okay,” you squeak out, and with that, his fingers push past your lips, urging you to suck them clean, and you oblige, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself on his fingers.
your hands trail down between you two, your fingers dipping underneath his shorts and boxers, toying with the waistband.
logan removes his fingers from your mouth, opting to move back to your jawline, planting lingering kisses along the bone.
“quit teasing, baby, want you on top. let me see those pretty tits of yours, yeah?”, he smirks, knowing that him complimenting your body drives you crazy in the best way.
you oblige with a searing kiss to his lips, opting to pull his shorts down in one motion, cock bobbing free and slapping across his stomach. he reaches down to finish taking them off, throwing them on the floor with your long-abandoned towel.
he rolls you both over with ease, you now on top. your fingertips graze his chest, down to his abs, grabbing his cock and giving it a few quick pumps to make sure he’s ready.
“ready, log?” you ask, your hands now on either side of his head, his blue eyes sparkling back up at you, your hips and ass now up in the air waiting for his cue.
he leans up to chase your lips, trying to kiss you, just out of his reach.
“please, baby, i can’t take it much more,” he begs, using his arms to pull you down to him, sinking down on him, and meeting his lips with yours. now it’s his turn to moan into your mouth.
“fuuuuuck,” is all he’s able to get out, his hands finding their way to your hips, trying to help you relieve the lack of sensation. Your hips roll for the first time over him, and his hips immediately buck up into you.
“patience, baby. i thought i was the desperate one?” your words go right to his cock, making him buck up once again, making you speed up your motions. you feel the effects of his desperation on your body, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every bounce on his cock.
“fuck, you’re close, baby; so am i,” logan pants, the physicality of it all catching up to him. he knows your body so well; he can always tell when you’re about to come.
with his observation, you lean back with your hands behind you on his thighs, your hips continuing to roll against his body, eliciting a low, grumbling moan from logan. he loved you like that, all cock-drunk and lazy on top of him. it also meant that he had a perfect view of your tits, both his hands reaching to grab at them as he continued fucking up into you.
“these are so fucking perfect. all mine. i can’t believe you’re all mine, baby,” logan pants, both of your movements becoming lazier, as he rolls your nipples in between his fingers, feeling your already-tight walls close in on his cock.
you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching with his presence on your tits, and you know that he isn’t going to last long, either. you lean forward, diminishing the space between you two, giving logan the opportunity to bear hug you. his thrusts up into you send you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, causing you to let out a muffled moan onto his right pec. your vision goes slightly blurry for a second until you hear a grunted “fuck, baby”, followed by the feeling of logan’s hips sputtering underneath you. he comes shortly after you, spilling into you.
You collapse onto his chest, your highs riding out together. he doesn’t loosen his grip around your back, planting a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead, pulling out as you lay pitifully on his chest.
“so good for me, baby, so sweet. fuck, i’m so lucky,” he whispers, rubbing your back where, just a few minutes earlier, he was applying aloe lotion. he rolls you both over so that you’re now facing each other on your sides.
you reach a hand up to caress his face, feeling the stubble from a week’s worth of no races, the hair rough against your smooth palm.
“logie, you fucked me so good i almost forgot about this damn sunburn,” you giggled, “but now we’re done and it just hurts again!”
“guess that means i’ll just have to fuck you again,” logan smirked, burying his head into the crook of your neck, eliciting more giggles from you. you begin to hook your leg over his thigh, bringing you even closer, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. you almost begin the cycle over again until you hear a knock on the door that has you both frozen in your tracks.
“dinner!” you hear his mom cheer from the other side of the door, and then her footsteps clearly walking back down the hall towards the kitchen.
“guess not,” you teased, eliciting an eye roll from logan, who quickly gets up to pull you into the bathroom to get cleaned up.
#logan sargeant smut#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader
214 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I Took You Home, Part 1
Pairing: Dom!Kevin Atwater x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Food porn. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing, fingering (female receiving), cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. D/s dynamics.
Summary: Your friends were all in relationships so that meant it was time to bug you about your singledom. They were constantly setting you up on dates that made you back out. However, you were sick of saying no and your friend's boyfriend really played up his coworker and friend. It was all true. Your blind date leaves you wanting more.
Word Count: 6,245k
AO3 Link
A/N: Hello, my loves. I am missing Kevin so bad! It's been 3 WEEKS without a new episode. I'm dying over here. Reblog and comment to save a writer's life. And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!
Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @amethyst09 @ciaqui @harmshake @nworbaij @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @twocentuar @westside-rot @yaachtynoboat711 @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @bigsisbria @babybratzmaraj @darqchilddaydreamz
You knew better than to trust your damn friends. You sat at a nice restaurant in a casual berry colored dress, sipping wine and looking like a pathetic loser eating dinner alone. You didn’t have a book to try and pretend like this was planned. Like you decided to take yourself on a date.
You glanced at your phone. To be fair, you were a bit early. Only because you were so nervous about a blind date to begin with. Why had you said yes?
You weren’t sure now. Maybe it was your friends and their constant hounding. They were all hooked up with their respective partners so now you were getting the pitying stares. The stressed smiles after they got done gushing about their own dates and partners. As if being single was some type of disease they wanted to cure.
You took another sip of the sweet wine and thought about canceling. Blind dates were a joke. They probably set you up with some ogre of a man who picked his teeth at the table or scratched his belly after he was finished.
You looked over the menu to give yourself something to do, so you weren’t just staring at your phone.
Your mind ran through all kinds of possibilities for this random man you decided to go out with. Maybe he was bald. Maybe he was shorter than you. You didn't mind dating someone short, but they usually had complexes that you weren’t capable of dealing with. Maybe he was a secret chauvinist…
“Excuse me?” You turned your head to the words and got a face full of stomach. You tilted your head up and saw a gorgeous man with hickory smoked skin, dark and luscious beard, and kinked hair. He smiled wide showing a row of beautiful teeth and you were momentarily struck stupid.
“Friend of Claire’s right?” He asked. “I hope.” He chuckled and licked his lips. Your eyes caught the movement, the slow glide of his tongue across the swell of his lips.
You swallowed a giant ball of stupid thoughts, nodding because you didn’t trust your voice. You were going to have to marry Claire for this one. Absolutely marry her. Her boyfriend, Jay, was going to have to get in line.
The man stuck his hand out and you looked at it briefly, before looking back into his deep brown eyes. “Kevin Atwater,” he said.
You sputtered and mumbled out your name, finally taking his hand and shaking it. His hand eclipsed yours, so huge with thick fingers. His nails were clean too. He smiled and finally took the seat opposite you.
You rearranged the napkin on your nap to give you a reason to collect yourself. You were not the type to go all googly eyed for a man. At least not where they could see. When you looked up, you caught the eye of the woman next to you who had been throwing her own pitying looks your way.
You smirked and lifted an eyebrow, communicating without words. She swiftly turned her gaze to her own date, fixing her already neat bun.
Kevin cleared his throat, pulling the seat closer to the table. His legs were so long however, that he still had a lot of room from the table to his olive green button up. It was open at the collar, giving you a peak at his chest and a black tank underneath. A hint of a chain He wore dark jeans and dark green boots to match and a row of bracelets on his wrists. He had already taken off his black puffer jacket when you weren’t looking.
“You find the restaurant okay?” You asked.
“Yes, ma’am. The parking though?” He asked and shook his head. You giggled, feeling giddy over the ma’am comment rather than annoyed. He said it like it was a casual, Southern thing and not in a teasing way.
“I know. But I couldn’t believe you’d never been to this place. I thought you grew up in Chicago?” You asked.
“I did. ‘Bout some blocks that way,” he said, pointing South. “But life got busy. Maybe I just needed the right sign to go.”
You smiled. It was a cheesy joke, but why was it working? Perhaps the wine finally got to you, settling low in your belly. Maybe the sudden ache in your pussy was from the alcohol and not the way he looked framed by the wall of lights behind him. Rather than sink out of focus, his face seemed only framed by it. Kissed by it. Like the light settled into his skin with the softest sigh.
“I’m sorry if I started without you,” you said, grabbing your wine and taking a sip. You’d need your wits about you if you were going to remain cool and calm in his presence. After the disastrous first impression, you needed some points in your favor.
“That’s fine. I probably would have to. What’s that you’re drinking?” He asked. He picked up the menu but didn’t look at it as you told him the vintage. He nodded and gave you an approving grin.
“Alright, I’ve never had it. Is it good?” He asked.
You shrugged. “Not my favorite but it’ll do,” you said. He grinned and caught the attention of a passing waiter. He ordered some type of bourbon, Old Emmer, and then the conversation turned towards the food.
“Since I’ve never been here, what’s good?” He asked.
The Italian restaurant was famous for a lot of things, but none more so than the lasagna. Every time you had it, you swore up and down that someone in the kitchen was from the Old Country. You could taste the sunshine, hearth, and powdered hands as it worked the dough on the noodles. The tomatoes from the vine in the sauce. That hint of spice from the earth itself. The soft wool of the goat that provided the cheese. And the meat. You resisted the urge to pinch your fingers and kiss your mouth every time you thought of it.
“I’d say…the lasagna. I can’t resist it when I’m here,” you said. You hoped you sounded cool about it. If given half a chance, your enthusiasm would erupt all over the table and he’d be halfway down the street before you could call him back.
“Lasagna it is, then,” he said. The waiter arrived with his drink and Kevin took a sip. He tilted his whole body back, pulling up his arm so that you had a good look at his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he sipped it down.
You uncrossed and then re-crossed your legs, your thighs burning in the most unholy way. It settled low in your belly, echoing throughout your core. Nasty thoughts filled your brain. Thoughts you did not need to think about this man that was only sipping a drink.
He nodded his approval and the waiter asked if you were ready to order. Kevin motioned for you to go first, so you ordered the lasagna. Kevin ordered the same thing and then the waiter took your menus.
There was no more armor against Kevin and his attractive smile. “So, what made you agree to a blind date?” You asked. As you tried to steer your thoughts to safer territory, you couldn’t imagine a man as fine as him still remaining single.
“My job doesn’t exactly lend itself to a standard schedule. Makes it hard to meet some folks,” he said. He settled back in his seat and twisted his glass in his hand. The glass looked tiny in comparison.
You nodded. Claire already told you that Kevin was a cop, like Jay. You asked if it was tough dating a cop. She confessed that it was hard as hell because of the worry. Over the fact that he might not always walk back through the door. And that’s with someone white. Kevin is Black and that brought an extra layer of worry.
You asked if it was worth it. A stupid grin spread across her face. She told you that it was. She’d do it over and over again. Plus the handcuffs helped.
“Especially someone that doesn’t automatically see you as a person,” you said.
Kevin nodded. “I’ve had some tussles but I’m still here,” he said. Your eyes darted to his body, taking in his thick muscles and corded forearms. You had no doubt that it’d have to be something huge to strike down Kevin Atwater.
“I’m glad you are. Okay, but seriously. Help me understand. How do you explain, all of that,” you said and waved to his whole body. “And no long term girlfriend.”
Kevn laughed. “I promise, it’s the job and just not vibing with anyone. There was nothing wrong with them, it just wasn’t there. But now you have to tell me something. How do you explain all of that,” he said and waved to your body. “And no one’s snatched you up yet.”
He smiled and rolled your eyes, refusing to laugh. “I find that some guys these days have to be still carrying around cavemen genes or something. It’s really bad out there,” you said and shivered.
Truth was, it was incredibly hard to find someone that fit your brand of nasty. You loved sex. Had an insatiable appetite, practically thinking of it 24/7. But you also craved submission. You did so much every day, constantly finding the energy to breathe from second to second. Your work kept you down and your family was demanding. You had to keep up with friends and schedules and made hundreds of tiny decisions every day.
Mentally calculating what was too dressy, too girly, too boyish, too much, not enough. The last place you wanted to have control of was the bedroom. The last thing you wanted to do was order around a man in the sheets.
Sometimes you just craved masculinity. You couldn’t define it but you’d know it when you see it. The way a man just went around being a man. Flexing muscles, taking up space, manspreading, protecting. What turned you on more was when a man was acting in defense of someone else.
And it was hard to achieve that with men these days. Because they’d all reverted to primitive, banging on the drums type of seduction. One drink earned them the right to put their hands on your thighs. Buying you food was a ticket to second base. You couldn’t submit if you didn’t trust the fucker in charge of you.
Glancing at Kevin though, masculinity poured off of him in waves. You wondered what it would be like to submit to him. To hand over your orgasms and watch him treat them with love and care.
Your pussy throbbed in response like she loved that idea.
“Don’t tell me it’s that bad,” he said and cringed. You gave him a funny look. He shook his head and cursed.
“Well on behalf of my gender, I’m very sorry. Then again, it brought us together,” he said. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at you. You giggled.
“Okay, stop. You know what you’re doing!” You said.
“What am I doing?” He asked. His voice grew a little rougher and you gasped.
“Looking at me like that,” you said. Your voice grew softer.
“How am I looking at you?” He asked.
You were saved from answering by the waiter bringing you lasagna. One huge slice was placed in front of you, a sloppy square of dripping sauce and steam. Some of the edges were burned, the tomato sauce dark with spices. It smelled divine.
Kevin grinned and looked down at his meal. He gave you a wink, like he was congratulating you on a good choice. But you waited until after the garlic bread was placed between you. He picked up his fork and cut a piece of the lasagna.
Strings of cheese went with it and he rolled it around his fork. He brought it to his mouth and his juicy lips sucked up wayward sauce. You were treated to another sight of Kevin’s tongue on his lips.
He chewed and then moaned, a low and deep sound erupting from his chest. Your pussy throbbed with the unexpected praise. You felt good to treat him to something you enjoyed. You got the same feeling when you introduced a new artist or song to someone. But nothing as visceral as pleasing Kevin.
You finally bit into your own lasagna and closed your eyes, a moan escaping you involuntarily. You even did a little jig, as the food brought so many flavors to your mouth. Something savory with a tiny hint of sweetness. The cheese and noodles complementing each other so well. The meat soaked with the sauce that made you imagine ripened red tomatoes. Plump with flavor.
You remembered where you were, on a whole ass date with a literal offering from the gods. You opened your eyes and looked at Kevin who sat still with adoration all over his face. Like he witnessed the most magnificent phenomenon and couldn’t make sense of it.
You gave him a sheepish grin but he gave you a shimmy back. He turned it into a Black person acknowledging that the food was good. No words necessary. Just brown eyes meeting brown eyes.
Conversation turned towards family as he talked about having to help his brother and sister after his dad went to prison. You nodded along, knowing that dance all too well. He glowed with pride as he talked about his siblings and how it was hard being their father and their brother.
He admitted they fell into some drama some years ago, but they were all heading towards healing. He was sad for the childhood he lost, but he would do it all over again. You wondered what it would be like to be so positive like him and Claire. The way they saw the bullshit day in and day out and got completely opposite experiences than you.
You tried not to be a storm cloud, shitting all over what came your way. You couldn’t help it. Negativity was safer. A constant hammer against your soft heart to try and harden you up. But you still had that need to empathize with everything and everyone. And so in the end, it hurt just the same.
You told him about your family and friends and how you came to know Claire. You asked about him and Jay working together and he said that they got off to a rocky start, but ended up being brothers on the other side of it.
You loved listening to him speak. The deep, whispery tone of his that instantly put you at peace and your core set to burning. You longed to hear that whispered in your ear while he did something disgusting to you later.
Yeah, you’d already decided. You were taking this man home with you and you were going to hand him the reins. You hoped that he delivered. That his smooth and sexy interior matched the drop dead gorgeous exterior.
You were needy with want. Wanting him. It was an insane thought. You’d only just met him. But his vibe put out someone trustworthy and you always trusted your instincts.
Dinner flew by with more fascinating stories from Kevin. You delved into past relationships and laughed at each of his horror stories. You told some of your own and was mortified how you could be so blind at the time.
You had a second glass of wine and he had more bourbon as you shared a dessert. The gelato was sweet and icy. You scooped some on your spoon and made a show of putting it in your mouth. Nothing outrageous, just something to tease him with.
He lowered his eyes to your mouth and you felt desired. You felt settled in your body. It was a heady feeling and you knew that it had all to do with Kevin. Once he paid the check, absolutely refusing you when you told him that you should pay since you suggested the restaurant.
You walked outside into frosty Chicago. No matter the time of year, it was a bitter place to be. The wind howled around your shins. You brought your coat closer around your neck. Kevin walked you to your car.
You didn’t have to walk so close together. He didn’t have to reach an arm out to keep your balance on low heeled shoes. Yet, your shoulders constantly bumped into his and his arm casually went around your shoulders.
You talked and laughed, dreading every inch of sidewalk you covered. You didn’t want to leave him but you didn’t know how to transition from this date to taking off his pants. When you got to the car on the driver’s side, Kevin smiled at you. You smiled back.
He stepped forward, pushing into you. You walked backwards until your back hit the side of the car. He pinched your chin, bringing your face closer to his. His eyes never left yours while he tilted his head.
“Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this,” he said. His lips brushed against yours and you sighed. You wanted to whimper.
“I feel it too,” you whispered.
“Come home with me then. Follow me home,” he said.
“I’ll follow you,” you promised. You’d follow him anywhere. This was the most radical thing you’d ever done in your life. Going home with a man after one date? The scandal of it all would turn your friends’ heads. Not to mention, they’d tease the fuck out of you about your blind date going well.
He smiled against your lips, lightly pressing in. He tasted like the bourbon he drank with a hint of pasta. It was a delicious spicy and savory mix that made you lean in for another one. He gave you a brief kiss and then pulled back.
“I’ll see you there,” he said. He opened your car door behind you, smiling at you, and then tucked you in. You put on your seatbelt and he closed the door with a tap. He finally headed down the street to his own car. You started your car and pulled into the street.
The blast of warm air from the heater was just what you needed. Except it’d probably make you sweat harder between your thick thighs. You needed his hands there already, spreading your legs so he could look his fill. You could picture it all so well. So vivid.
He pulled out into the street and you followed him to his place. To his credit, he didn’t speed up or take close lights so that you couldn’t follow. He put his blinker on way ahead of time so you didn’t have to scramble after him.
He led you to a corner building that seemed to be an apartment. The faded blue blended well into the dark night, reflecting the stars above. You found available parking and then got out of your car, looking for Kevin.
He walked down the street to you, collecting you from your car with that wide grin of his. His breath fogged into the night time and you smiled. You took your purse with you. You wrapped your hand around his forearm and he led you to the front door.
Inside, the place was as cramped as the rest of Chicago, yet roomy enough that you felt like you could breathe. The inside was nice. There was no peeling paint or stained walls. All of the lights worked and there was a first aid kit inside the doorway. You smiled at Kevin. He told you that he bought a building and planned on getting it fixed up. Something to fall back on after he was done with the force.
He led you to his apartment on the first floor and in the back. His apartment was well decorated in dark tones of mahogany and deep steel blue. There was brick on some walls and it all fit with his dark furniture. It was clean and homey at the same time.
There were sweet smelling candles on the coffee table and newspapers beside at a safe distance. He had a record player next to his TV and a rack of vinyl records underneath it. He turned on ambient lights, enough to set the mood without it being sleazy.
He took your coat off and then his own, hanging it on a rack behind the door. You couldn’t walk two feet forward before he grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall. He thumbs rubbed your hips back and forward.
He hummed and moved his body closer so that from the chest down, there wasn’t an inch of space to be found. He was so tall. So imposing. So incredibly taller than you that your brain melted.
“I can give you the tour now or later. If it’s now, you’ll take your clothes off for every room we visit. If it’s later, it’s straight to my bedroom but I take my time,” he said.
Your body shivered. You were paralyzed with indecision. You wanted to do both. At the same time. You bit your lip, thinking about which you wanted more.
Kevin smiled. “Now it is. The foyer counts as a room,” he said.
You giggled because his “foyer” opened directly into the kitchen and living room. But you took off one shoe and Kevin smiled. He moved you into the kitchen. “The kitchen,” he said.
He smelled so good, his natural scent filling the room since you were no longer outside. The kitchen was clean, dishes put away and a healthy row of seasonings. He knew his way around a kitchen.
You took off your other shoe, teasing him by technically following the rules. Just because you wanted to submit didn’t mean you couldn’t put up a fight. He took your hands and led you to the living room, his stormy gray couches made lighter by the few throw pillows. He turned on the light in the hallway, and led you to the bathroom. Your dress fell from your shoulders, around your hips, and down your legs. The shimmery material tickled your skin.
He showed you the bathroom. You were already wet from the timbre of his voice. Giving him a strip show and delaying the pleasure only made you unbearably wet. There was a particular ache in your pussy that you needed filled as soon as possible.
You glanced around the bathroom, his enormous shower. You took off your bra, sliding it from your shoulders and looking at him from behind your shoulder. He leaned against the doorway, filling it completely. He blocked out most of the light behind him and sucked in the warm light in his bathroom.
He had a lean to his wide hips and a hand on his belt. The other was above his head. He scratched his head as his eyes looked over your body. “Turn around,” he ordered.
You did as he said, turning around so that he could see your body. He walked closer, eyes straight to your breasts. Your breathing increased, watching him look at your body and find you appealing in so many ways.
He stopped in front of you and leaned down, planting a kiss to each breast. He hummed low in his throat. “I almost can’t make it one more room,” he said.
You grinned. You took his hand while he brought you to his room finally. It definitely looked like him. Nice, clean, but an air of feeling lived in. He had photos of his siblings in his room, some artwork, and his huge bed. It had to be two king sized beds put together. Or maybe it was just your imagination. But you knew that he was tall as hell so he needed a bed big enough.
It was the final room. Kevin led you further in, half closing the door. He trailed a finger across your shoulders as he walked into the room, taking off his green button up. He stood in a blank tank underneath.
Next went his jeans. He kicked off his shoes and then tugged the rest of his pants off. Now he had dark gray briefs and a black tank on. He looked like the poster child on the packages men’s underwear came in.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and beckoned you to come closer. You walked closer, the natural swing in your hips making you feel powerful even though you were handing yourself over to this man.
It felt naughty. It felt kinky. You finally found someone who could help turn your brain off. Someone who made you so hungry with desire that you didn’t notice anything else. You stopped in front of him.
“Panties,” he said.
A small word but a physical effect on you. You trembled with need while you slipped your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and tossed them to the side. Kevin’s gaze drifted down your body, stopping at the juncture of your legs.
Kevin crooked his finger and then you stepped forward, straddling his thick thigh. You whimpered at the pressure to your clit. Kevin grinned, gripping your ass and putting you in the spot he wanted. Somewhere between his knee and his hip, where you were perfectly balanced.
“Let me watch you give yourself pleasure,” he said. It wasn’t a question. More like a soft plea wrapped in a demand. He deferred to your choices while still taking charge. You nodded.
You put your hands on his shoulders and gyrated on his leg, rubbing your pussy on his thigh. He had coarse hair there, but it only served as an extra bit of friction against your pussy. You whimpered more, finding a rhythm that rubbed against it well.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he said, that whispery tone tugging on a muscle in your leg. It jumped as you moved your body back and forth.
You opened your eyes and stared into his while you got yourself off on his thigh. He had one hand on your ass, squeezing every so often while you whimpered and whined. “Come on, let me see you let loose,” he whispered.
You whimpered more, getting closer to the sound of his voice. “Let me see it. Let go,” he continued.
You gripped his shoulders and squeezed your legs, so impossibly close. You gave one final sigh before you did explode, cumming on his thigh. You twitched and jerked, cries escaping from you.
“Hmm, cum so pretty,” he mused.
He brought his hand down between your legs, spreading your arousal on his fingers. He moaned at how you soaked his thigh. He rubbed your clit before pushing his fingers inside of you. His fingers searched inside while he brought his lips to yours.
He treated you with a tender but scorching kiss. The kind that made you curl your toes. He nibbled on your bottom lip. You cried out as he rubbed against a deep part inside of you. He flicked his fingers a few more times and you knew that he found your sweet spot.
He mercilessly rubbed it while you sputtered and moaned. You clung to him, hands fisting his tank top. “Shh, don’t fight that shit. Cum again for me,” he said.
You huffed in a delicious, torturous pain. You were trying. You didn’t mean to fight it, only that you were so turned on. You were afraid that you’d rip apart at the seams and never find a way back to your body.
But you continued to look into his drunken eyes, kissing along your mouth. Till it turned sloppy. Till you couldn’t keep your eyes open a second longer. You felt your orgasm approaching once more. You were still nervous, but there was no holding this one back.
You gave up the fight, letting the orgasm wash over you. You were right. It tore you into tiny shreds. You cried out, twitching in his lap. His other arm came around to hold you still while he continued to finger fuck you.
Your legs shook on him while you rode an intense high. You never wanted to come back down. Reluctantly, you did. Kevin slowed his fingers and then finally brought them to your lips. He painted your lips with your cum and you smelled yourself.
Your pussy clenched and Kevin grinned. He kissed you, licking your essence and sharing it with you. Your tongues mixed and danced. You clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck.
You made out for some time. Felt like an eternity. Like you spent thousands of years kissing him and it was enough to sustain you. You began gyrating on his leg again. So fucking insatiable for a man of his size.
He pulled back slowly, keeping your lips pressed together for as long as he could. “Never gon’ get sick of that,” he said. “Now I wanna taste it.”
He made you stand up. Then he stood up himself, once more dazzling you with his height. He pushed you onto the bed and commanded you to open your legs. He palmed himself, adjusting his thick bulge, and then climbed onto the bed. He pushed you to the middle so that he had enough room to lay down.
He stared at you while he lowered his mouth to your pussy. The swipe of his tongue made you cry out. You came twice already, both times you jumped out of your skin. But you were greedy for another one. Rewarding him with moans every time he made you feel good.
You couldn’t contain them. He made out with your pussy. Licking before suckling your pussy with his juicy lips. You moaned, grabbing his head and pushing him deeper. He brought his fingers up to finger you again, spearing you with his thick digits.
“Oh, Kev–” you moaned. “Kev!”
“Say my name again,” he moaned against your pussy.
“Kevin!” You obliged, thighs tingling. You tensed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. This orgasm was another intense one. Robbing you of breath and sight. You lost control of your body as you spasmed on his tongue. Kevin moaned while he sucked up your essence.
He stood up, and pulled his fingers from your pussy. He sucked on his fingers and moaned, winking at you. He pulled off his tank and then his briefs went next. His gold chain glinted in the low light. He gathered up some of your slick, rubbing the length of his humongous dick with it.
He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken. Long and thick, he had been hiding an entire monster all night.
“I’m clean,” he groaned, yanking on his meat. You whimpered, following the motion.
“I am too. I’m on birth control,” you said. It was your turn to wink at him.
“Let me fill that pussy up then,” he said, groaning as his hand moved quicker. He stopped long enough to gather more, playing with your pussy before leaning back to rub the tip of his dick.
“Fill me up, Kev,” you begged and laid down.
He gripped your legs and pushed them over his elbows. He hauled you closer and you yelped. Being manhandled sent a shiver down your spine. He spread your legs wider and then guided himself to your entrance.
You pushed your hand against his chest as he began to breach. He was so big. If it hadn’t been for the foreplay, this would hurt even more. He chuckled. “You can take me,” he promised.
He pushed against your hand and feeble attempt to slow him down. You hissed as he pushed inside slowly, pulling out and then pushing back in. You grew wetter around him and he groaned as it became easier for him to stroke.
He began to move his hips, rolling into the stroke and you hissed with more pleasure. He filled you up completely, taking him just like he said you would.
Your teeth chattered as you stared into his eyes, a look of sweet pain on your face, you were sure. You began to whimper, a growing storm deep inside. “I know, I know,” he cooed, continuing to stroke that long dick of his.
You cried out, his dick hitting your sweet spot. His mushroom head glided against your inner walls and you scrambled for something to hold onto. Your hands found his forearms.
“Kev–” you cried, not enough breath to form his full name. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead.
“Be good for me and cum on this dick,” he commanded.
You bounced on his dick, wetter by the second. He groaned as you slid easily on his dick. “Cum on this dick, cum on this dick,” he chanted over and over, his harsh breath fanning across your heated, sweaty skin.
“I’m–, oh fuck I’m–” You groaned, throwing your head back while you came. You squeezed the hell out of his dick, holding on for dear life.
Kevin groaned on top of you, his strokes having to slow down while you came. “Fuck, pussy feel even better,” he said. He kissed your forehead again and panted.
He was still stroking, getting stronger with each slide. “One more,” he pleaded.
Fuck! You couldn’t! It’d been a while since someone tore your ass up. Your solo adventures never quite getting you there that many times. However, underneath Kevin, you felt another stirring. This one was quick. You felt it coming and yet you felt like it’d snuck up on you.
You convulsed on his dick with loud, whimpering cries. Broken and estranged sounds escaping you.
Kevin moaned, dropping his sweaty head to your chest. His lips found your nipples and he sucked on them, alternating every so often until they were hard little buds. He kissed along your neck and shoulder, stroking deeper at the closer contact.
You moaned, nails digging into his back. He moaned in your ear while his strokes increased. As if he had been holding himself back earlier and now he could let loose. Now his strokes could turn sloppy and desperate.
“Finna nut,” he moaned.
“Nut in me, Kev. Please, please,” you begged.
“Beg for this nut,” Kevin hissed, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulled back, you sniffled.
“Please Kev. Please nut in me,” you begged.
Kevin groaned, leaning up slightly and climaxing. Hot pulses of cum filled you and your body jerked, feeling the warm length of him inside you. Kevin pushed his hips in like he was trying to keep his cum inside. Let it soak deep into your pussy.
Kevin’s lips found yours in a sloppy, messy pattern and you licked at his lips, completely spent. He grinned and finally pulled out of you. You moaned as his cum slipped out too. Kevin lowered your legs, pushing them open so he could watch himself drip out.
Satisfied, he gave you a final kiss on the forehead. You sighed, settling into his bed like you were settling against a cloud. He returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and cleaned you off. He put it back into his bathroom and then he crawled into bed, turning off the lights beside him.
He was warm, impossibly so. Like a furnace all by his lonesome. You turned onto your side and he snuggled against your backside. “That was incredible, thank you,” he said. He kissed your cheek.
“I should be thanking you,” you said, with a small chuckle.
He began to nibble on your ear. “Stay tonight. So I can wake you up to my fingers between your legs,” he whispered in your ear.
“I can’t say no to that,” you said. You didn’t know the proper etiquette for a one night stand. Were you supposed to dip? Were you supposed to stay? One night stand implied that you weren’t going to see him ever again.
But you wanted to keep seeing him. You wanted to experience this over and over again. The way he established control but still gave you plenty of chances to back out. You didn’t have to make major decisions and didn’t have to worry about anything but receiving pleasure. You were thoroughly hooked and needed far more than that.
“Maybe I should feed you some dick. See how well your mouth takes it. If it’ll be anything like your pussy,” he said.
Your pussy clenched with his filthy words. Somehow lulling you to sleep. You were incredibly warm. He pulled the covers over you, trapping you with all his heat.
“So many things I wanna do. Maybe I should tie your hands behind your back and face fuck you until I cum all over that gorgeous face,” he said.
You moaned softly, tiny gasps that filled the quiet space. “Please,” you whispered. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A break? You had so many orgasms tonight, you lost count. More? You couldn’t survive another one at the moment, but fuck it. If you passed out, then you just passed out.
He chuckled and kissed your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” you said. You fell asleep with a goofy grin on your face.
Need more Kev in your life? The Secret Kevin Atwater Files
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Kevin Atwater Files#Kevin Atwater x Black!reader#Kevin Atwater x Black reader#Kevin Atwater x Fem!reader#Kevin Atwater x Fem reader#x Black reader#x Fem reader#Kevin Atwater x plus size reader#Dom!Kevin Atwater#Sub!reader#Kevin Atwater fanfic#Kevin Atwater fan fic#Kevin Atwater fanfiction#Kevin Atwater fan fiction
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic: Never You, Part 8 (Polin fic)
Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)
Spoilers: S3 released scenes.
Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.
Excerpt:
“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”
“Of course you would think that.”
“What else is this if not punishment?”
Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)
A03 link if that's more your jam
With her heart and mind in complete shambles the next day, the last place Penelope wanted to be at was the Bridgerton Manor. But there she was, cushioned between Lady Violet and her own mother for afternoon tea. As if things weren’t difficult enough, the Cowpers were also in attendance, which meant she was forced to watch Eloise and Cressida act like the best of friends. Occasionally Eloise would glance at her from the other side of the room, as if to gauge her reaction. The optimistic part of Penelope hoped it was because her former friend still cared, but the cynic in her knew otherwise. Eloise wanted to make it crystal clear that Penelope was alone now. Without Eloise, without the Bridgertons, she was an outsider. And who better to emphasize that point with than Cressida Cowper herself. The tall blonde had bullied Penelope since they were little girls, and now Eloise had joined forces with Satan herself. As if on cue, Cressida cast her a disparaging glance, whispering something in Eloise’s ears before both women exchanged a spiteful smile.
It was one thing to have Eloise be angry at her, that Penelope understood and could live with, but to see Eloise and Cressida’s blossoming friendship felt like an arrow through the heart. And it hurt, it hurt so much.
The night of the ball Penelope would’ve done anything to reconcile with Eloise, but since then she came to realize a lot of hard truths. The ton, Eloise, Colin – they only accepted her as long as she followed their rules. A woman like her, shy and large, not borne into wealth or beauty wasn’t allowed to want things. She had to remain voiceless, live in the shadow of others, not expect to be loved or cherished. The moment she refused to play the part of an insipid wallflower she was punished. And that was fine, she would live with the consequences of the choices she made. But what she wouldn’t do was reveal her pain for anyone’s enjoyment. So Eloise could be as snide as she wanted, she and Cressida could humiliate her to their heart’s content but they would never conquer her publicly.
“Penelope, you looked lovely at the VanGuard soiree.”
Breaking out of her reverie, Penelope smiled at Lady Violet. “Thank you.”
“The various shades of green have been a surprise,” Portia chimed in, sipping her tea. “I wasn’t with Penelope the day she went to the modiste and Miss Delacroix certainly took advantage of that. Probably talked my foolish child into buying all the unused fabrics she couldn’t sell to others.”
“I doubt Miss Delacroix has to resort to trickery to sell her clothes,” Penelope replied.
“She is very much in demand as a dressmaker,” Lady Violet added.
“Hmph…” was her mama’s response. “I suppose it could have been much worse. At least the green doesn’t wash out her complexion too much.”
Violet responded with a stiff smile. “I thought it suited her quite well.” She turned to Penelope. “We’ve missed having you here for tea.”
Penelope merely smiled.
“I suppose my Cressida has kept Eloise so busy these past few weeks she hasn’t had time for… others.” Penelope had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Lady Cowper. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the condescending tree.
“I’m sure that will be rectified soon,” Lady Violet replied, a hopeful tilt to her voice.
Penelope didn’t have the heart to tell her things had irrevocably changed. Eloise refused to understand her motivations, and Penelope wasn’t willing to fall on her sword to make things right between them.
“Mother, Cressida and I are going to take a stroll in the gardens,” Eloise announced, linking her arms through Cressida's as they both headed out of the room.
Lady Violet’s warm eyes gleamed with compassion as she directed her attention back to Penelope. “Would you like to join them?”
That was the last thing she wanted. “Is it alright if I visit the library?”
“Yes, of course.”
The stern look on Portia’s face indicated she wasn’t happy about Penelope spending time in the stuffy Bridgerton library but Penelope didn’t care. It was a room she loved, filled with many warm, comforting memories of happier times.
Excusing herself, she walked away from the prying eyes of the mothers, desperate for a moment alone. Her stomach was still tied in knots, her head pounding. She had stayed awake most of the night in Colin’s arms, inhaling him in and etching everything about him to her memory. At the same time her guilty conscience had warred with her heart, reminding her of the horrible mistake she was making. It was only when fatigue took over that she managed to get some sleep. By the time she woke up Colin had already left, and she had spent the morning agonizing over what to tell Arthur.
Penelope quietly walked to the library, grateful it was in the opposite wing from where the bedchambers were. The last thing she needed was to run into Colin; after last night, she was too embarrassed to face him.
Stepping inside the library, she shut the door behind. She closed her eyes. Breathed in the air, the smell of books infusing her senses. Sunlight peeked in through the windows, casting shadows across the room. As children she and Eloise had spent countless hours playing hide and seek between the shelves. This room had also been a haven when Mama and Papa fought, or those days Mama had been especially harsh about her eating habits. Penelope would sneak away and make her way into the Bridgerton library through the gardens and the back door, desperate for a quiet place to simply be.
She crossed the room, walking to the window which overlooked the south section of the garden. Staring out, she caught a glimpse of Cressida and Eloise walking together, engaged in deep conversation. It was Cressida’s facial expression that caught her attention. The blonde, usually so smarmy and full of herself, seemed almost shy next to Eloise, even vulnerable. Apparently they were friends.
Taking a deep breath, she walked further into the room, behind the shelves, to the hidden alcove.
Her heart was heavy, her mind still fraught with guilt. She had spent the morning writing and rewriting to Arthur, debating on how much to tell him. In the end, she decided to keep it short.
I made a mistake. One I’m not sure you can forgive me for. It’s best if we speak in person.
Tears welled in her eyes, her throat tightened with emotion.
As hurtful as Colin’s words had been about not courting her, at least they finally revealed what his true thoughts were. He didn’t love her, nor would he ever, and no amount of wishing would make it so. And ultimately, his honesty had been a gift because it allowed her to get through the pain and open her mind to pursue someone new. She hadn’t gone looking for Arthur, but when he’d come into her life she hadn’t closed herself off either. She may not have loved him madly like Colin but she held deep affection for him. There was also mutual respect between them and friendship. He understood what writing meant to her and pledged his full support, and that was a rare quality amongst men in their society. She had so much to look forward to and it was all gone now, completely eviscerated because of her own foolishness.
Tears fell down her cheeks while she pondered the bleak future ahead of her. Without any marriage prospects, she was doomed to be a spinster. Unlike Eloise, she wanted a husband and children, a contented marriage, a home where she would finally belong. As a spinster, however, she would most likely spend the rest of her life with Portia and be the sole recipient of her mother’s criticisms. Oh God. No, no, no, just the thought of that made her panic. Heart pounding, she clutched her chest, utterly dejected about her broken dreams.
“Pen? What’s wrong?”
She turned around to find Colin standing a few feet away. She swiped the tears from her face, quickly composing herself. “Nothing, I just have some dirt in my eyes.” While he crossed the room in only a few strides, she gave him a cursory smile. Seeing the concern on his face, she quickly averted her eyes away from him. “I need to return to the sitting room. Mama must be waiting for me.”
“You’ve been crying.” There was fear in his voice when he spoke. “What’s wrong?
She shook her head. “I’m fine-”
“I know I haven’t been a good friend to you recently. I wasn’t there when your father passed, I’ve been callous with your feelings – but please, Pen, give me a chance to help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Despite using all her resolve to hold it together, she started to shake. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears in check. She couldn’t bear for him to see her when she was feeling so low and pathetic.
All of a sudden his arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a warm, comforting hug. “It’s alright. You don’t need to tell me, you don’t fully trust me yet. But please let me hold you for a while?”
It may have been posed as a question, yet his tight embrace indicated he wouldn’t let go even if she refused. And she tried, she tried to hold onto her pride and fight him off, but he was stronger and more resolute and eventually she gave in. The solace he offered made her crumble and she buried her face in his chest, crying silently in his arms.
For the longest while he simply hugged her, murmuring tender words, dropping light kisses on the crown of her head. He felt so strong yet gentle, offering his support, and her heart yearned for him. If only he could love her, want her for who she truly was. She let herself indulge in that fantasy for a few minutes, pondering life with him as his wife, being family with the Bridgertons, even having Eloise back as her best friend. She could continue to write, and they would be supportive without judging her. Her life would be perfect, she would never need for anything again.
Time held no meaning. All she felt was the warmth of his touch, his scent blanketing her senses, making her feel safe and secure in his grasp. Nestled in his arms, she listened to his heartbeat. Strong, slow, steady. Whereas her heart was pounding rapidly, like it always did when she was around him. A stark reminder of how much she was affected by him, whilst he wasn’t at all by her.
And that was enough for her mind to stop dwelling in the fantasy of Colin. There was never any possibility of a future with him. And she was absurd for letting herself daydream about it.
The tears stopped. A calm logic fell over her.
She took a deep breath.
Her foolish heart may have cost her a future with Arthur but that didn’t mean she was out of options.
She had amassed a small fortune already. And with any luck, the investments she made would continue to grow in value. While nothing would change her status as a spinster, that didn’t mean she had to live with Mama for the rest of her life. She could leave and build a life elsewhere, without her mother’s approval. In secret if she had to.
It wouldn’t be easy, but not impossible. After all, she had built Lady Whistledown from nothing. And now her nom de plume was one of the most influential names in the ton. She was Penelope Featherington and she could do anything she set her mind to.
“Who made you cry, Penelope?”
His words instantly brought her back to reality, and she was reminded of how desperately she was clinging to him. Immediately she dropped her arms, intending to step back but he didn’t release his grip on her. Instead, he tucked his finger under her chin and nudged her head up to meet his gaze.
It was then she noticed the dark storm brewing in his gaze. There was anger in his eyes, on his face, his jaw clenched. The Colin she grew up with was cheery and affable, equally popular amongst ladies and gentlemen of the ton because of his friendly nature. But he wasn’t the same man staring back at her now, seething with rage, a strange viciousness vibrating off of him.
“No one gets to hurt you, Penelope.”
He wasn’t loud or boisterous with his threat, instead his tone was quiet which made his words even more dangerous. Because he wasn’t putting on an act. He meant every word.
His thumb swiped the tear stains from her cheeks, first left, then right, before trailing down to her lips. His breathing grew more shallow with every second, and his eyes held her transfixed, making it impossible for her to look away from him. She was his prisoner, body and soul.
“Tell me who it was.”
She swallowed audibly. “Why do you care?”
“Because you're everything to me.” His arms encircled her back, pulling her against him. “And I will destroy the fucking world before I let someone hurt you again."
There was no time to argue, to think. A palpable force compelled them together, as real as the air they breathed. His lips closed over hers, kissing her possessively, and she kissed him back with equal fervor, desperate to touch him. The pull between them was too much, yet not enough. His hands all over her body, pulling at her dress, hers frantically removing his waistcoat and shirt because she wanted – no, needed – to feel his bare skin on hers again. They were spiraling towards full madness. Nothing else mattered except his mouth dragging down her neck, trailing a path of heated kisses. On his knees now, she clutched his hair as his mouth sought out her breasts. The friction from his mouth laving her hardened nipple over the fabric of her dress was electric. She couldn’t take it, rolling her head back at the sheer intensity of it.
"Colin! What are you doing?”
Penelope's eyes flew open.
Standing on the other side of the room was Eloise, watching them with complete horror on her face.
#polin#penelope x colin#colin x penelope#bridgerton#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#never you#my fics
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ch.1 - Ma Karyu, ma tutepe
Lo’ak(21) x female omatikaya reader(22)
Adult Lo’ak pic is made by the amazing Cinetrix💗
Series masterlist
Summary: In which the Sully family returns after staying with the Metkayina for seven years. Lo'ak isn't the same teenage boy he was before leaving the Omatikaya clan. He returns a man, a fully grown Metkayina warrior. Now, he must learn the ways of an Omatikaya warrior and pass his rite of passage. Who else can teach him other than one of Omatikya's finest warriors?
Content: MDNI, 18+, angst, fluff, smut, student/teacher trope, reader is the "golden girl" of the clan, Lo'ak is known as a “badboy” due to his rebelliousness
A/N: I didn’t expect to bring this out so soon this week but I had so much motivation and basically wrote for hours!
Taglist: @rivatar, @tallulah477, @fluorynn, @neteyamsoare, @neteyamssyulang, @ikeyniofthetayrangi, @haunting-venus, @itchaboi-itchyboy, @melaninqueen04, @tsireyasluvr, @deadgirlrin, @yourstrulybluelover, @indiramae, @pluhhbabyy (Let me know if you wish to be added or removed)
Chapter 1 - One life ends
ma'itan = my son
tsakarem = tsahìk-in-training
Pa’li - direhorse
Banshee- ikran
“Ma’itan, we must go.” Neytri urged her son to hurry up, already on her banshee. Just like seven years ago, Tuk sat in front of their mother with a bored expression. She had changed over the years.
She was not the same little girl anymore who used to be so eager and excited about everything.
No, she was 14 years old now. A teenager. A real bratty one at that. Some even dared to say she was worse than Lo'ak.
He had been reckless, troublesome, and adventurous (he still is), but at least he had Neteyam. Neteyam would always act as his shadow, more of a father figure rather than his older brother. At least, he used to be.
No one had been the same after his death. Without their big brother, the Sully family took a big hit. The dynamic changed rapidly, and all five struggled to adjust to this new situation.
It was not five people.
Through the eyes of Neytiri, it was. She had struggled the most adapting to the ways of water, never fully getting it. Not when she had built her whole identity in the forest. Keeping her family safe was the only way she managed to stay sane. Losing her firstborn child was a pain, indescribable for words. They say there is no love stronger than the love of a mother for her child.
But to be fair, they were with six people now.
One life ends, another begins.
With the death of Neteyam, the rebirth of Spider began. The human boy who never had a family before, always straying around the Sully's, now had a family to call his own.
A son for a son.
A brother for a brother.
The Great Mother always had a plan. Kiri was sure of it. To others, it may seem like she did not care as much. The truth was that she knew it was meant to happen. She mourned her big brother's death and missed him dearly but he is with Eywa. Besides, she was the big sister now.
During the first few months, it was she, who kept the family together. Neteyam would have been proud.
Kiri let Tsireya hug her one last time but grimaced when Aonung tried to reach for her. Some things will never change.
She too hopped onto her banshee. Jake walked past her, patting her back gently. He made sure everyone was secure and ready to go for the long trip to the forest, home.
A father protects and keeps his family safe. Jake failed. At least, that is what he kept telling himself. The death of his oldest son affected him more than he would show. He had to keep himself together, for the sake of his family, the one he still had.
“Son, we do not have time to play around. Get on your banshee, boy." Jake spoke in a firm tone, giving his youngest son a firm glare. He gave his banshee, Bob, a quick pat before hopping onto him.
"I'm coming, dad," Lo'ak replied, giving Aonung a playful punch and Tsireya a quick hug.
What once started as rivalry turned out into a strong brotherly bond. It goes without saying that Lo'ak and Aonung were no longer enemies.
Tsireya, she was a different story. Seven years ago, Lo'ak had been crushing on the beautiful tsakarem. They did end up together, but nothing lasts forever. Their teenage love came to an end, but they stayed friends regardless.
Lo'ak made his way to his banshee, Spider already waiting beside her from a safe distance.
Despite Lo'ak having taken Spider on multiple banshee rides certainly didn't take away the fact that his banshee would not hesitate to try anything with Spider. She wasn't fond of humans after all.
"Bro, come on." Spider grinned at Lo'ak. He tugged at his tail just for the sake of annoying him. Lo'ak let out a hiss before pulling at Spider's poncho instead. The flight home would be long and rough, not fit for most humans. Yet Spider wasn't a normal human. He was tough and strong. He would survive.
Lo'ak calmed his banshee, urging Spider to climb on before hopping on himself.
Lo'ak looked back one more time, taking in the place that had been his home for all those years. The first time he arrived a young teenage boy. He'd leave a fully grown Metkayina warrior.
“One, two, three, four.”
“Eylan, keep your head up and straighten your shoulders.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Again, one, two, three and four.”
You strutted past the young warriors, back straight, chin high. Taking in their forms, adjusting them when needed, wearing the same expression you’d always show everybody. A strict and unreadable one.
You've been at it for the entire morning. Lessons started early and would last just before eclipse, in time for dinner. You were hard on them. You knew that. But it was necessary. Becoming a warrior required a strong mentality and a strong heart.
You were an odd one. Admired by many for your strength, discipline, and courage. Traits of a real warrior, a mighty one at that.
Your parents never stopped bragging about you. You were their successor, their golden child. It drove your siblings crazy.
Your older sister, Ley'ira, made a fine weaver. Growing up your parents put a lot of pressure on her, urging her to find her position in the clan, watching her younger siblings and pressuring her into finding a mate even though she was only one year older than you.
She adored you, she really did. But she could not stand the way your parents spoke of you with so much pride like you were above everyone else.
Then there was your younger brother Ikalu. He was 15 years old, a young warrior in training. He refused to be taught by you, not wanting to be looked down upon by his own sister.
Everyone respected your position within the clan. You were the golden girl after all. Soft-spoken, always obeyed the rules and never talked back to your elders.
People either hated you or loved you.
It's not like you paid much attention to them anyway. You were quite shy by nature and preferred to spend time by yourself rather than hanging amongst a crowd.
As a grown woman, you had many suitors. You were strong, beautiful and knew how to carry yourself. The perfect package.
If you ever had a bad day and were in any pain there was a simple solution. Walk it off.
Just as you were about to go on with the next command, a group of other warriors your age came riding on their pa'li’s
You immediately recognized the one in front, Ke'nu. He was a fine warrior and knew how to lead a group. He was one of the men who had shown interest in courting you. Yet, you never showed much interest.
"What is the meaning of this, Ke'nu? I'm in the middle of a lesson." You spoke firmly when he stopped in front of me.
The young warriors just stood there, confused by the sudden interruption.
"They're coming back. We must head back to Hometree, immediately. Tarsem's orders."
Your hairless eyebrows raised up, lips parting slightly. You gave a quick nod to ke'nu before turning back towards the group of young students.
"That was enough for today. Pack your stuff and follow me back to Hometree. Toruk Makto and his family return today."
#lo’ak x reader#lo'ak sully#lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan#lo'ak sully x reader#lo'ak avatar#lo'ak x fem!reader#atwow#atwow x reader#atwow lo'ak#lo'ak x you#avatar the way of water#atwow x y/n
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
HOUSE MD 2024 ONE SHOT BASED ON THIS SCREENSHOT - in collaboration with @zethd
"hey wilson, i need to borrow some money," house announced as he swung the door open to his best friend's office. the brunette oncologist rolled his eyes and let out a groan, though he was more than used to the request of money.
"what do you need it for?"
"does it matter?"
"yes," wilson huffed. "i'm not funding any of your stupid schemes anymore."
"i'm getting a service animal. i figure it's about time i finally accept that in my old age, my leg can't keep up with me anymore," house replied, the sarcasm dripping in his tone. wilson was slightly surprised, and he took a minute to consider.
"how much money do you need?"
"about $10k," house answered. wilson blinked, almost as if he couldn't believe he'd heard that correctly.
"why so much?"
"i'm high maintenence," house shrugged. "the dog needs to be able to keep up. dogs aren't cheap and the training isn't cheap either."
"don't those dogs come trained?"
"well, yeah, but i still have to compensate the trainers for working with the dog," house scoffed, as if it was obvious. wilson sighed, pulling out his cheque-book and opening it, but he paused for a moment.
"you swear this is going towards a service animal?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. house rolled his eyes, nodding his head.
"when have i ever lied to you?"
ONE WEEK LATER
"house, what the hell is that?" wilson groaned, watching as house limped into his office with a robotic dog trailing behind him.
"this is rover," house replied, pointing at the dog.
"rover? and where exactly did rover come from?"
"he's my new service animal," house scoffed. "god wilson, keep up."
"you got a robotic dog as a service animal? that's why you needed $10k?" wilson groaned, leaning his head in his hands and shaking it. he should have known better than to trust house.
"what else would i have gotten?"
"a real dog."
"yeah, like i want something that sheds all over the place. the hookers leave enough of their hair behind for me to find later," house said.
"house, this isn't funny. how is a robotic dog supposed to help you?"
"he's a robot, moron. he's programmed to be smarter than humans. besides, he knows some cool tricks."
"tricks? like what?" wilson raised an eyebrow. what the hell kind of tricks could a robotic dog do?
"we have to go outside. i don't think cuddy will be too happy if rover did his tricks inside. she's such a buzzkill," house rolled his eyes. wilson sighed, knowing he shouldn't be putting this much trust into house, but he followed him outside regardless. they made it outside to the parking lot, coincidentally right near cuddy's car. well, wilson thought it was coincidentally, anyway.
"i have a bad feeling about this," wilson admitted, seeing the look on house's face.
"oh shut up and watch. it'll be cool. come on rover, do your thing," house instructed, pushing a little button on a remote control he'd pulled from his jacket pocket, and within seconds, rover was shooting a flame out of a piece of metal attached to his back. wilson stepped back immediately, though cuddy's poor car took the brunt of it.
"house!" wilson gasped, and house simply made a face.
"whoops. he wasn't supposed to do that...i think i pushed the wrong button."
"what the hell was he supposed to do then?"
"oh, he was supposed to shoot flames but not like that. i didn't even know he could do that. cool."
"no, not cool! you just torched cuddy's car!"
"honestly, i was doing her a favour," house shrugged. but speak of the devil, because out came cuddy when she realized that it had been her car that had been torched.
"what the hell did you do to my car?!" she exclaimed as she stormed over.
"rover had an accident," house replied, pointing at the robotic dog at his feet.
"rover? this is what you meant by a service animal?" she huffed, realizing that she too had been fooled into thinking that he had pure intentions when he came to her to put in the paperwork for a service animal.
"isn't he cute?" house asked, obviously trying to distract from the car that was currently in flames in front of them.
"you're really going to play dumb right now?"
"like i told wilson, i was doing you a favour. no wonder you can't get laid, driving that thing around," house scoffed.
"that's it. rover is gone," cuddy said.
"you're really going to separate a boy and his dog?" house pretended to pout, looking down at his "pet".
"oh, i'm going to do more than separate a boy and his dog. i'm going to kill the boy and his dog," she said, and even house took a step back.
"uh oh. i think she's mad."
"you think?" wilson scoffed. it was obvious he was mad too, and house could tell.
"oh come, not you too," he groaned.
"i funded this! you told me you were getting a dog, not a flame-throwing robot!"
"this was cooler, and a lot less maintenance than an actual dog."
"he destroyed my car!" cuddy argued.
"look on the brightside - now you can upgrade."
"and you can pay for it."
"what? how? i had to borrow the money for rover from wilson. you think i can afford to get you a new car?" house scoffed.
"you're going return rover and get a refund, and you're going to give me that money so i can get a new car."
"you can't make me give up rover," house protested.
"i have a baseball bat in my office. you can watch me smash rover to bits if you'd prefer," cuddy shrugged, and house cringed.
"fine. i'll return rover. just know how heartbroken he is though."
"i'm sure he'll be just fine."
#house md#hatecrimes md#gregory house#hugh laurie#greg house#fanfic#james wilson#rsl#robert sean leonard#lisa cuddy#lisa edelstein
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catfooted
Fandom: The Boys in the Boat
Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch
Words: 804
Rating: G
Notes: Bobby really was on the UW fencing team! I took one three-week fencing unit in middle school PE so I am of course an expert in the sport as you can see from this fic.
Don knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd. He’s clearly not a fencer - he’s got the wrong proportions, for starters, and the UW fencing club is small enough that he’d stand out as a new face anyway - and he’s even more clearly not a fencer’s girlfriend.
Not that all or even many of the women dotted among the seats in the fencing courts have boyfriends among the team, unless fencers have a much more bohemian understanding of relationships than rowers do. But most of them seem to have at least inclinings that way, if the way their eyes track the lithe bodies of the fencers as they shake out their wrists and push their sweaty hair off their foreheads is any indication.
Don only has eyes for one of them.
He’s always known Bobby is athletic - Bobby keeps up with the rest of them on their training runs when his lungs allow, and what meat there is on his slender limbs is mostly muscle. But he’s never seen Bobby move like this. Graceful, predatory, catlike in the way his feet barely touch the ground before he’s bounding away with a delighted laugh, challenging his opponent to give chase. The wire helmet obscures his expression, but Don can see it perfectly in his mind’s eye: bright grin flashing, cheeks flushed in triumph and exertion, eyes alight with the thrill of the game. It’s beautiful.
Bobby’s opponent does something complicated with his foil and the girls beside Don murmur in appreciation, but Don’s attention is fixed on the way Bobby twists easily out of reach and parries with a direct, no-nonsense block. It’s so very much like Bobby that Don can’t help but laugh quietly to himself, even if it makes the girls glare at him. Let them think he’s amused by their sighing and pining; they can’t know that he’s just as besotted.
He and Bobby aren’t dating, per se. Don doesn’t know how that would even work, given how dangerous it would be for them to be seen in public that way, or to spend any more time sequestered in Bobby’s room with the door locked than they already do. But they’re doing everything else. So even though he’s only attending Bobby’s match as a friend, he feels a kinship with those girls in the stands who do have a sweetheart in the running.
Except that unlike them - Don can only assume - Don has felt that wiry body under his hands, has seen just how far those flexible hips can bend and twist and writhe atop Don’s. Bobby’s sweat-soaked hair and flushed face is familiar to Don for far more intimate reasons than fencing. Watching him now with that knowledge is mouth-watering.
Bobby looks like a wet dream come to life when he bounds off the court, shaking his hair out of his eyes and pushing the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows. His gaze seeks out Don in the stands and he grins as he makes his way over. He, too, has no eyes for anyone else.
Don wants to tell him congratulations, or even a simple hi, but his mouth is suddenly too numb to form words. Up close, he’s almost too beautiful to look at.
“Cat got your tongue?” Bobby says, coming to a stop at Don’s feet. His chin is tipped up in teasing challenge, his lips chapped from breathing so hard, and Don can do nothing but nod. Bobby smirks. “Well, tell her to give it back. I’m kind of fond of it.”
“You were,” Don manages, face flaming. “You were. Out there. Very…”
Bobby’s laugh is delighted. “Why, thank you. I’ll take that as the compliment I assume it was meant to be?”
“Very much. Thank you for letting me come,” Don says. He feels on firmer footing with pleasantries rather than the veiled but very public flirting Bobby started them out with.
Bobby’s grin softens and his eyes dart down to his feet for a moment, shy, before he looks back up.
“Thank you. It was - I’m glad you could make it. I’ve got no girl to cheer me on, so…” He clears his throat. “But who needs a girl when I’ve got you, right?”
It should sound like a consolation, and it does hurt a little to hear. But Don also hears in it the truth of what Bobby really means: Bobby would date Don too, if they could. He’s fond of just a bit more than Don’s tongue.
"Yeah. You've got me."
Bobby beams. Then, alerted by some noise, he looks back over his shoulder and sighs. “I have to go change; I’ll see you back at the house. Find that cat in the meantime, maybe?”
Don watches him go, smiling like a fool. He knows the girls can see it, but he doesn’t much care.
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
OKAY SO I DECIDED TO DO IT PROPERLY
WRITE SOMETHING WITH ODETTE LIKE MAKING OUT WITH HER (AND MAYBE LIKE WE SHOULDNT BE DOING IT CAUSE LIKE NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP IF IT IS EVEN ONE) (the build up to it too if you feel like it!!) AND THEN CLARA CATCHING US AND TEASING BOTH OF US BUT MOSTLY ODETTE CAUSE DUH!!
~your biggest fan😙; LOVE YOU SUNSHINE!!🩷
Interrupt much??
Summary - *ask* Reader and Odette have an established relationship
Warnings - Small make out session. Probably OOC for Odette😭
Author’s Note - I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG- I HAD WRITERS BLOCK AND LIKE NO MOTIVATION😭 SO SORRY POOKIE😭😭 IM SO MAD CUZ ITS SO SHORT AND IT TOOK MORE THAN A WEEK😭(One of my favorite songs, just a bop to listen too, not really related to the fic💀)
You and Odette have been dating for a while now. Not that anyone knew about it, but you had. You hadn’t told anyone about it since Odette wasn’t very comfortable with sharing the news yet, and you were okay with that, you went at her own pace. The only problem was that in order for you guys to meet without being caught would be that you would constantly have to climb in through her window in order to get your cuddles worth. Today was no different than usual.
You did your usual routine of climbing up a tree(which always hurt to be honest) opening the window, and climbing in. Odette had been waiting for you for a while. "What have I said about being punctual? Mother arrives in almost 2 hours." Odette scolded you sternly. "Sorry, the tree was giving me trouble again. The important thing is that I’m here.” You added, barely making it through the window.
Odette was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed. You collapsed onto her lap. “We need to find some other way to meet up, that tree makes my back hurt. More than you would at least,” you teased, this caused Odette to turn red. She smacked your arm. “Shut up. You’re such a tease.” Odette said with a red face.
You rolled your eyes playfully and cupped her cheek with your hand, she turned an even brighter shade of red. "You're warm" you muttered. "Well, last time I checked, I'm not a reptile so I don't think I'm meant to be cold?" She said with a soft giggle as she played with your hair. "Haha, very funny- I was TRYING to say I could you make you warmer" you teased grabbing a hold of her chin and making her face upwards so her neck was exposed. She got flustered and swatted your hand away, "Sh-shut up!"
You sat up and adjusted yourself on her lap, wrapping your legs around her waist. You chuckled softly, giving her a soft peck on the cheek. "You're so soft and comfortable, I could stay with you all day." You smiled softly, resting your head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around your back and rested her head on yours. You could tell she was getting comfortable around you and your affection a lot more. You began to nuzzle into her neck and could’ve sworn she purred a little. She turned red again and looked away. You saw how she had reacted and let out a soft chuckle, ‘she’s so cute’ you thought as you continued to nuzzle into her.
You had the urge to just take a small bite, a little nibble if you will. You pinched her neck with your teeth and Odette let out a sharp wince followed by a soft moan of pain. “H-halt! That hurt!” She whined. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself” You chuckled back. “Hmph” she crossed her arms and looked away, her face still red.
“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Will kisses help?” You asked cupping her face. She was giving you the silent treatment. You grabbed a hold of her shoulders and shook her, causing her to giggle. “So?” You asked. “Maybe…but it’s not guaranteed!” she added with a cheeky smile. “Good enough for me.” You smiled. You leaned in for a soft kiss. Odette’s lips met with yours in warm kiss, she hesitated at first but she still wrapped her arms around your waist. You made sure to stay at her own pace, which was actually not as slow as you expected. You placed your hands on her neck as you kept kissing her tenderly. You could tell Odette was still getting flustered and you pulled away slowly. “You okay, darling?” You asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. “Mhm!” Odette smiled. “Just not used to it as much yet- But I’ll get the hang of it, I promise” Odette leaned in again, the kiss was much quicker this time. Odette was still blushing, but you could tell she was a lot more comfortable now.
You could feel yourself gaining more and more butterflies, your chest was becoming a little tighter. You moved your hands slightly more up into her scalp. The feeling of her hair intertwined with your fingers wasn’t new, but it sure as hell felt more familiar. You were breathing a little heavier too. As the kiss continued to deepen, the door suddenly opened. It was Clara, Odette’s sister, who was standing there staring at her phone. “Hey sis do you know where……..” she looked up and trailed off.
Odette immediately pushed you off of her, causing you to fall on the floor. “Ever heard of knocking?” You chuckled. “Did I interrupt you guys about to fuck or something?” She said with a grin. “W-WE WERE NOT! W-WE WERE JUST KISSING! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTERS!” Odette said as her face turned red. “Wait, we weren’t?” You added while getting up, obviously you were teasing, which made Odette get more annoyed.
“Dang sis, I didn’t take you for the type to have hook ups.” Clara said with a teasing grin. “I’m not! Y/n is my girlfriend, you imbecile!” Odette exclaimed in annoyance. You sat down next to your girlfriend and grabbed a hold of her hand. Suddenly, Clara turned to you and gave you a ‘seriously?’ type of look. “Really…? Her?” Clara pointed at her sister, Odette rolled her eyes. “I know, right? It’s hard to believe for me too.” You grinned. You felt Odette let go of your hand and give you an elbow to the side, which actually hurt REALLY bad.
Odette stood up and you followed. “Look, darling, as much as I crave your attention, I also crave your silence. So, how about you…I don’t know..?…shut up?” Odette added facing you. “As if you can shut me up.” You scoffed. Clara had a grin plastered on her face, she found this amusing. “Careful, she might pull a ‘no cuddles for a week’ on you” Clara chuckled. “Make that two weeks” Odette grumbled. “You aren’t helping, Clara!” You shouted at her. “Lucky for you, that wasn’t my intention” Clara shrugged with a grin.
You hugged Odette by the waist. “Don’t do this to meeeee….” you pleaded resting your head on her shoulder and glaring at Clara. “Hey, you got yourself into this” Clara argued and crossed her arms. “But I wasn’t deprived of cuddles until you said something!” You shot back. “Boys, boys, you’re both handsome. And I respectfully take away such punishments since I’m pretty sure I’d give in after an hour or so.” Odette interrupted and had a faint, annoyed, smile on her face. You and Clara both rolled your eyes.
“So-? How long has this been going on?” Clara said sitting on Odette’s bed, you let go of Odette’s waist and stand next to her, grabbing her hand. “5 months,” you responded, kissing the hand you just grabbed. Odette pouted but her cheeks let off a small hue of pink, “5 months and 3 days,” she mumbled. “5 months and 3 days if you want specifics.” You added with a small smile. “What the fuck?? You’ve kept this a secret for that long??” Clara looked absolutely flabbergasted, especially when she turned to her sister . “Well- I wouldn’t exactly consider that first month as ‘dating’ but it was close enough?” You added. “Let me guess, you would occasionally hold hands while Odette called you darling?” Clara said looking at her sister, which made Odette turn red a little. “I considered it to be dating-“ Odette mumbled. “-What matters is that we’re officially together now.” You interrupted.
“Just as long as you don’t break her heart or do anything she doesn’t want to do, I approve of this relationship.” Clara shrugged, she stepped closer to you, seeming menacing. “In all seriousness though, if you break her heart, I’ll break your bones” she glared. “Y-yes ma’am-…” You shot back as fast as a gun shot. Dang- Clara may be younger but you could’ve sworn she seemed like an overprotective older sister for a second there-
“Alright, well, I’ll let you two be. Y’all can go somewhere, I’ll cover for you” Clara spoke as she continued to glare at you. She eventually turned and walked out of the room. Odette scoffed and turned back to you. “You feel like going out somewhere?” She asked. “Sure, darling” You replied with a smile. You grabbed Odette by the hand and dragged her outside. You had won over sister-in-law, but what about mother-in-law, hm? Luckily, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, it was just you and your girlfriend taking a peaceful stroll in hell, hand in hand, for what you wanted to be forever…
THIS FEELS SO SHORT UGHHHHHH
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
...
#had an interesting conversation with my sister the other day. odd i guess bc my sister is pretty smart#on paper shes smarter than me. or at least less dyslexic than me#but she didnt seem to kno what cancer is. i mean like how it works. i mean. cancer is a mistake. a confluence of unfortunate accidents#leading to unrestrained cellular growth. when it metastasizes. when it moves to other parts of the body. those same cells continue growing#if u have smooth muscle cancer and it moves to your kidney. you body is trying to grow more smooth muscle on your kidney#at least as i understand it. and she asked why it wants to kill you. it doesnt want anything. it just is. its not a thing of malicious#intent. its neutral. it grows. it takes up resources. it takes up space. and it grows and grows until the organ it grows on stops#functioning properly. like a parasite she said. but no. not like a parasite. it grows like an empty space. a mass of flesh. a constant#obstructive pressure. it grows like only a tumor can. i dunno. it didnt seem to connect with her that this thing didnt want to kill our mom#but it did anyway. and she felt weird about how long she lived after they took her off any support. but thats how cancer kills#it stops an organ from functioning and most of those r important so it only takes one. so her heart kept beating for 12 more hrs bc it was#meant to beat for 40 more years. but not much it could do without working kidneys and without working blood#but that's life. that's death. that's nature. its all nutral even if it feels horrible to the individual.#i dunno. i thought it was interesting. shes 25 and her mother had cancer for 10 years so id think shed kno more#we're at a weird phase now bc its been a week since she died and everything feels normal. we'll see what happens at the wake this week#its been interesting for sure bc she was sick for 10 years but my parents didnt prepare at all for her to die#so my dad is scrambling to put together the pieces shr left behind to make sure that all the bills r paid and whatnot. he had to guess her#computer password. she didnt tell us what she wanted us to have. she didnt tell us the importance of her jewelry and who it belonged to#before her. i dunno. we're seeing the outline of my mothers Pathology in what she left behind. both in the physical objects and in the#feelings she imparted. i dunno. its been weird#unrelated
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
this assay is so fucking fake......
#same one ive been working on for like 3 months. every other assay ive trained on took me a couple goes to get but ive done this one ~45x#and i keep getting 2 good runs and then 1 fail. which SUCKS bc i need 3 passes in a row to sign off on it#and its so sensitive that changing even tiny things like using a different brand same volume beaker. or a 0.5cm longer flea#anyway i had another 2 good runs this week so this was my 3rd but bc its a friday afternoon im tired as fuck and keep making dumb mistakes#like overstirring it + one of my samples leaked which is soooo embarrassing bc ive already had to ask for more before bc its taken me-#almost 50 fucking attempts already#anyway. hour and a half into prep and im at the most crucial time sensitive part which is pipetting thr enzyme into the substrate#and i manage to do it all w even time spacing (u have to replicate the exact same pace at the end of the timer or it doesnt work)#and then realise id picked up a different identical model pipette that was set to half the volume i was meant to put in FUUUUCK#by that point i was like fuck it im almost 2 hours in and nothing else to do the rest of the day. so ill work around it + see what happens#i figured well its half the volume. so if i add the same half volume again at the 5 minute mark and leave it for 12.5 instead of 10 mins#then itll hydrolyse the substrate to the same degree. IN THEORY in practice this stuff never works bc of error margins etc#bearing in mind this js like 30 seconds of thought bc it took me a couple mins to realise what i did#but the thing abt working in a lab is u make these split second decisions constantly bc everything is so time sensitive#so u have to be quick thinking on ur feet#anyway long story short got to the end of the 3 hour process. which i was carrying out v sloppily bc the chances of it working were-#slim by that point lmao. but lo and behold it was completely fucking fine. all cvs less than 5% and averages <5% of spec#which is awesome bc it means after THREE MONTHS and like. 45x3 whats that AT LEAST 135 HOURS OF FOCUSED TIME ON IT#not counting attempts i gave up on halfway thru bc id alreaady fucked them up bad#i can FINALLY sign off on it lmfao. but im just so mad like why does it play these mind games with me. it shouldnt have worked#whatever chemistry is such a fickle stupid science. anyway wahoo weekend time baby#gorgeous weather here + im gonna get pizza on the way home...... maybe life doesnt suck sometimes 😇#mutuals if ur still at work stay strong soldiers#.diaries
0 notes
Text
During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.
It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.
That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.
I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.
One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.
My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.
I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.
I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.
All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.
None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.
20K notes
·
View notes
Text
CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI
CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)
☆☆☆
thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.
Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).
Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.
Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website
Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.
Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.
Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.
~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~
Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.
~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~
he wanted to be nonchalant.
Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called
“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”
Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.
Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.
Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.
“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”
#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji x reader#jjk#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#jujutsu kaisen toji#prison#prison toji#inmate#inmate toji#pen pals#jail#jail toji#toji x y/n#jujutsu toji#feral#i need him#I LOVE TERRIBLE MEN#toji headcanons#smutish
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?
He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.
“No.”
“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”
“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”
This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”
“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”
Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”
“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.
It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”
Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”
Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.
“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”
He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.
“Quit that.”
“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”
“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”
“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”
“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”
“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”
“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”
“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”
Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”
Price simply watches him.
“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”
It's another long moment before Price speaks.
“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”
“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”
Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.
“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”
As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”
He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader imagines#simon ghost riley x reader imagine#simon ghost riley imagines#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x reader imagines#simon riley x reader imagine#simon riley imagines#simon riley imagine#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x reader imagines#ghost x reader imagine#ghost imagines#ghost imagine#ghost#cod#cod imagines#cod imagine#captain price#price#john soap mactavish#soap#john mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#gaz#kyle garrick
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger
Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.
His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.
There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.
Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.
Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.
Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.
It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.
Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.
Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.
He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.
There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.
Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.
This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.
"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.
My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?
This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.
He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.
I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.
"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.
Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.
Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.
Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.
Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.
Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?
Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.
Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.
Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.
I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.
On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.
Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.
Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.
And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.
Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?
He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.
That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?
He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.
Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.
"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.
He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.
What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.
It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.
Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?
"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.
No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.
He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.
When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.
Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.
"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.
How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?
Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.
Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?
"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.
Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.
Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.
Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?
Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.
My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.
He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.
Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.
Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.
He texted you back.
Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.
With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.
CALL FROM Pretty Girl
Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."
A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"
He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"
When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."
Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.
"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."
Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."
Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"
Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"
"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."
"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."
Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."
If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"
"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"
Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."
Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."
He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."
You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."
"Just okay?"
"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."
Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."
"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"
He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.
"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.
"Totally naked."
"Fuck."
"Send me another one?"
"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.
Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.
"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."
He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"
The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."
A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."
You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."
Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."
You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."
"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."
"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."
"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.
"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"
"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."
Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"
"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."
--------------------------
It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."
Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"
You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.
"Yeah. It's Rooster."
Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."
"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.
You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.
And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.
You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.
You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.
As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.
Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.
"Pretty Girl."
Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.
And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.
When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."
Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.
"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."
"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.
"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."
You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."
He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."
-------------------------
I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@chassy21
@solacestyles
@avoirlecoupdefoudre
@daisyhollyxox
@throwinsauce
@awesomebooklover17
@wintercap89
@whosyourgnomie4
@rosesinmars
@blog-name6996
@bcon24
@wishfulwithwine
@backinwonderl4nd
@tetragonia
@gingerbreadandpaper
@emptyloverofmine
@chaoticassidy
@missmirandafe
@changlingkhat
@sugarcoated-lame
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
@katiebby04
@marantha
@averyhotchner
@abaker74
@heli991113
@k-k0129
@noz4a2
@tallyovie
@shanimallina87
@teddyluvs2sing
@little-wiseone
@ccbb2222
@lilyevanswhore
@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o
@xoxabs88xox
@thedroneranger
@bradshawsbitch
@cherrycola27
@fanboyswhore9
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@desert-fern
@sylviebell
@wkndwlff
@horseslovers2016
#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfic#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw x reader#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#wrong number#top gun rocktober
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
re: this post and its tags:
[racism mention, extremely violent fatphobia after the cut cw]
eight is a really interesting character--much more so than the writers intended him to be, tbh--and it's a real shame that both the authors' racism and the fandom's behavior drove me away from getting invested in him for so long.
the racism i was just like 'wow this is beyond me to even begin to unpack at this point in time. jesus.' but also. the entire fandom using their love for them as a reason to make endless rabid hate posts about your fave, in many of which they fantasize about 'slitting open the fat bastard's belly and gutting him like a pig,' and getting dozens of notes for it will put you off a character a little bit. just slightly 🤏
#LL tag#the salt files#fatphobia cw#gore cw#it is really fucking bad be warned lmao#LL number five#LL number eight#there were other reasons including 'hit saturation point with navrina within a week of joining the fandom'#'and it took years before it wasn't in Near Every Single Post and Fic; five hate aside but also in a large majority of the five hate'#but uhhhhh those were two of the biggest ones lmao#like i still don't know how far i am equipped to unpack his deal because of the landfill-sized can of worms that is#everything to do with the vish/nu natio/nalists. because holy shit lmao#but it is at least less general sense of Wow This is More Racist Than I Know How to Even Begin to Put Into Words these days#and also he has more parallels/foils with five than they meant him to tbh#let him get past the stage of 'i feel guilty for tricking people into revering and dying for me because i was lonely'#'and then abandoning them'#and then hit 'holy shit i was pressured; manipulated; adultified; and dehumanized'#'by being used as a figurehead for an extremist right-wing terrorist organization'#which like. i don't know how to tell these authors that making your main rep for brown people a religious terrorist organization#is still maybe a little bit deeply fuckin racist even if you go It's Okay They're Our Buddies!#and in fact the way it plays out is kind of a hundred times worse than if they hadn't#i can't accurately say i wish they had gone into it either way because jesus christ with these people can you imagine lmfao#but like. still#racism cw#LL crit tag
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
snidy
snidy
naituxan
dahlah
feminineambrosia
Feminine Ambrosia
askmikan-tsumiki
Be Gentle With Yourself
boigrlking
Freaky Funky Fruit