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saekkas · 1 year ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

summary: michael kaiser is a coward who needs a little incentive to finally confess his feelings towards you.

tags: f!reader, roommates to lovers, fluff, falling in love, kissing (more like, making out), jealousy, mutual pinning, possessive kaiser.

wc: 1.7k

notes: i do not know what possessed me into writing this, but man, it needs to do it again.

something you've realized early on in your friendship with kaiser is that he's a coward.

he hates spiders, makes you throw the trash out at night, and screams whenever something falls out of its place because he thinks the apartment is haunted.

in the year that you've spent as his roommate, you've come to terms with it. he's nice, cleans his dishes, and helps with the laundry. he keeps the noise down to a minimum and cooks you breakfast when he isn't preoccupied with practice.

another perk of living with him is the fact that he buys you things, expensive things. perfume. flowers. the dress you were eyeing online. your favorite snacks. a limited edition plushy you've been wanting since forever.

anything.

you realized early on that michael kaiser is rude to other people, scoffing and smirking as if he's above everyone else. he mutters comments about them under his breath, thinking you can't hear. he bosses people around, looking at them like they're ants. a waste of his time.

he isn't like that with you.

for one, he's sweet. if the gift giving isn't enough, he goes out of his way to seek you out after his matches. he asks for massages, for small pecks and fleeting touches. he video calls you when he's away, never forgetting to wish you a good morning and sweet dreams through voice notes. all with a grin on his lips.

you aren't blind. you know those are his ways of expressing affection. you just wish he'd finally man up and admit his feelings.

"so, how was the date?"

kaiser's sitting on the couch of your living room, remote control in hand as he stares at the tv, some random soccer match showing across the screen. his hair is wet, and he's got his glasses on. his posture is relaxed, seemingly nonchalant as he asks the question.

you know him enough to see him gritting his teeth even through his bored expression.

"good evening to you too," you laugh, airy as you take off your heels. putting them next to the door, you drop your keys in the sage bowl, letting them clink against his. "have dinner yet?"

leaning against the door, you can see the fine lines of his shoulder tense. the kaiser you're used to is a show pony, the person sitting on your couch isn't. he almost looks like a stranger with his neutral expression and bored eyes. such a difference to the guy who usually comes running whenever you walk through the entrance.

"i ordered takeout." he motions to the plates littered around him, pointing at the fridge. "i saved you some of your favorites."

internally, you flutter. happy to know that the kaiser you know, and love, isn't completely gone.

"thank you, that's very sweet of you."

he's adamant on keeping his eyes off you and on the screen, his shoulders becoming even more tense as you open your arms wide.

"no hug for today?" there's a hopeful smile on your lips as you say the words. happy to finally have everything the way they should be.

only to be shut down with a single side eye from him.

"what?" he asks lowly, almost conceding in his words. almost like your presence bothers him, like all those other people do. like you aren't special to him anymore. "did your date dump you? and now you're looking to me for comfort?"

the words are icy, and he gives no room for rebuttals. not when he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

it's the first time he's used his persona on you. one he uses to hide away from the world. you decide that you hate it.

"no. actually, he was sweet," you bite back, glaring when you decide that enough is enough. "asked to hold my hand and carry me on his back."

you watch as his face darkens, his eyes clouding over until you can't recognize the pretty blue color they usually spark in. you're riling him up, making him angry. and it's working.

"why? jealous?"

it's the question you've been dying to ask for months now. he flirts like you're more than friends, buys you gifts like you're something special to him, shuts down every time you go on a date with someone that isn't him.

but when it comes down to it, you not his to have. not when he's too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"and if i am?" his words surprise you. it's the first time he's come close to revealing his true feelings in months. they're said with an underlying tone of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. like you're already his and no one else's. "what's it to you?"

"oh, you know, just happy you're finally being a man and talking about your feelings."

you shouldn't have said that. with the way his eyes are practically glaring, you don't know what else to say. you look up when he stands, practically looming as he stalks to you.

"you're so-"

his words are interrupted by his cursing. he glares down at you, pushing his hand next to your head, pining you against the door. you gulp, watching as he practically shakes in anger.

"du machst mich wahnsinnig, liebling. ich glaube nicht, dass ich mich zurückhalten kann, wenn du weiterhin so eine göre bist."

translation: you're driving me mad, darling. i don't think i can hold back if you continue to be such a brat.

"he even asked to kiss me too," you say, your voice trembling under his dark gaze. your sweet and funny roommate is gone, replaced by the man you see in front of you. your heart is pounding against your chest, in both fear and excitement for what he'll do when you finally push him off the edge. "he-"

kaiser surges down, cutting your sentence off with a kiss.

your eyes widen when your head hits the door from his force. a shiver running down your spine when he lifts a hand, placing it on the back of your head, gently caressing the area. closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

he relaxes at that, pulling back slightly only to swoop back in, keeping you in his arms for as long as he wants. by the time he finally breaks the kiss, you're both leaning against each other.

you've never seen his eyes as happy as they are now.

"ich bin mir sicher, dass ich besser küsse als er," he says, smug as he takes in the way you're panting. he chuckles, placing his hands on the side of your neck to pull you into another kiss. "richtig, liebling?"

translation: i'm sure i kiss better than he does. right, darling?

"i don't know what you're saying but yes. okay. sure." you nod, head still hazy as his hands start to stroke your cheek. "if it's something bad, then no."

he chuckles, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. he keeps you rooted in your spot, his eyes darting back between your eyes and your lips. "you're mine now, yeah? no one else gets to kiss you the way i did."

"about time," you say with a roll of your eyes when your breathing finally settles. you play with the hair around his shoulder, slightly tugging at the strands. "it went awful, by the way. he made me walk 3 kilometers because his car broke down."

his hands stop, freezing as he looks at you incredulously. "but you said-"

"i lied," you say with a cheeky grin. you lift yourself onto your tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek as an apology. "just wanted to see how you'd react."

you giggle when he groans, letting him settle in the crook of your neck. "you little minx. next time, call me. i'll pick you up and drop you off."

there's the kaiser you know and love.

"mihya." the nickname is odd on your lips, new and completely unrefined. you watch as he perks up, his eyes practically shining as he looks down at you. guess you'll just have to use the nickname on him more often from now on. "you're a terrible driver. you'd be picking me up at the mall and dropping us off at the gates of heaven."

"well, at least that means an angel will finally return home."

you smack his shoulder for that.

bonus:

you're walking down the stairs of your university a few weeks later, laughing at something your friend said when the sound of squealing fills your ears.

a sleek black lamborghini sits right in front of you.

you blink, taking in the over-the-top showcase before your eyes land on the figure right beside it. you snort as kaiser winks at you from his spot, still taking his time to soak up the limelight.

"did you have to come all the way here to be a showoff?" you greet him with a kiss to his cheek that kaiser visibly grins at.

ever since getting together, he's been hogging you all to himself. he insists on driving you to and from wherever you need because your time together is worth everything to him. "you are so petty. making sure no one even thinks of asking me out on another date?"

"you like it." the way he says it is breathless, like it's a secret he's been keeping to himself for a long time. "you like me."

who knew michael kaiser turned out to be such a corny romantic?

you snort, tugging him into the car before he makes any more of a scene. "i do."

he grins at that, revving the engine as loud as he can, smirking when a group of freshmen cheer and wave to him from behind the car.

"good." he takes your hand, placing a kiss on the knuckles. he holds it as he backs out of the university and into the open street. "be prepared because i'm about to spoil you even more."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #kaiser fluff

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cursed-peanut · 5 months ago

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A/N: Hello everyoneeee!!! As promised, here is part 2 of Reunited!! I will be making more parts however it won’t be like a fic, more like a combination of scenarios, headcanons, etc. If you have any questions or thoughts on this AU, my ask box is always open and so are my comments. My taglist is also open! If you’d like to be added, lmk! Please make sure I can tag your account first though. May sound silly but I couldn’t tag some people because they had tagging disabled. If you were one of the people who asked to be tagged but wasn’t, please change that in Tumblr settings :) Anyway, this kinda gave yandereish vibes at the end??? If you want me to turn it into that or write a spin off where Sukuna is a Yandere for reader, lmk in the comments 💗 Anywho, happy reading and I hope you all enjoy this as much as you all did in part 1 <333

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“You are to be monitored by me at all times! If you get caught walking around by yourself well…I will either get an earful from the old hags at the top or they’ll have both of our heads, no in between!” Gojo Satoru tells you in a tone way too cheerful for what he was telling you.

“What? Why? I don’t even have any cursed energy, I’m just a regular human, I’m not some powerful sorcerer.”

“That is exactly why. We’re keeping your presence under the radar for now, but as soon as it inevitably slips out that you’re back and so is Sukuna, so will immediately become a target.”

“That’s not true. ‘Kuna may not be back to his full power, however he is still strong. No curses and sorcerer’s alike would dare hurt someone so close to the King of Curses.”

“While you may be right that he’s powerful even though Sukuna isn’t at his full potential, your ‘Kuna’ currently has the power of one of his fingers and is stuck in a fifteen year old boys body. He could easily be evaded by fellow special grade curses and curse users. Please realise this is for your safety.”

This doesn’t make sense to you. Yes, he’s not at his full power, but it’s not like you’ll be leaving Jujutsu Tech anyway. After all, you don’t go on missions, you’re not a Jujutsu Sorcerer and you will never have a chance to — not that you want to anyway. So logistically there is no need for your protection. Are they worried sorcerers might attack you? That’s surely a fault in the system of their schooling and society if they’re scared of that. Or maybe…they don’t trust you?

“They want me dead because of my relation to ‘Kuna, don’t they?” Gojo’s deafening silence answers your question. “Why?”

“Because they’re afraid that there’s a possibility you’re hiding a powerful technique from us. I personally don’t believe you are deceiving us, but even if you were, I’d be able to stop you anyway. So don’t be become all cocky with delusion. Thinking you can defeat me.” He grins.

“Mhm, well…thank you then.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for believing in me,” You shakily sigh. “I’m happy to know someone is willing to stand up for me.”

“Of course! I would get a mopey Yuji if you died, and who knows how Sukuna would react, but I know for a fact it would not end well. Talking of Yuji and Sukuna, we should go check on them now!”

That’s right. Itadori has recently been announced as dead, however it seems Itadori must have made some sort of pact with Sukuna to revive him. You and Gojo, along with a few others at Jujutsu Tech, are the only people who know he’s alive. Gojo seems to take this opportunity to train Itadori well, and what that truly means is most of the time he conducts experiments that mainly consist of Gojo purposely annoying Sukuna to see how Itadori’s body would react. Most experiments involved you in some way — he found Sukuna’s threats very amusing, but what he found even more amusing is your ability to make the King of Curses sulk for a day by simply lightly reprimanding him for these threats.

“‘Kuna! That is no way to talk to someone. He just wanted a hug.”

“Yeah ‘Kunaaaa. I just wanted a hug.”

“Gojo-Sensei, please. Stop angering him. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress him.”

“This is exactly why I’m doing this! To help you learn how to suppress Sukuna, no matter the circumstances.” Gojo explains. While that may be partly true, Itadori knows that’s a lie. He’s doing this because it’s funny to him.

“You better watch it, Sorcerer scum,” Sukuna grits. “May I remind you that when I make this idiots body my own, I’m killing you first.”

“‘Kuna!” You scowl, hugging Gojo tighter to Sukuna’s dismay. Gojo flashes a shit-eating-grin Sukuna’s way for one last time and lets go of you.

“Thank you, Sensei. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could suppress him for.” Itadori sighs. You sit down next to him and give him a warm hug, rubbing circles on his back. Itadori looks up at you with warm eyes as you press a kiss to his forehead. You always bring the mummy issues out of him.

Meanwhile, in Sukuna’s domain, Sukuna is looking at you through Itadori’s eyes and he can’t help but marvel at you. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers, and you’re so unbelievably near. He wishes he could take his vessel’s place, return to his former glory with you by his side, but that will have to wait.

He will return to his former glory and you will be at his side when that happens. But above all else, what makes his wait all the more worth it, is the world he plans to create will be perfect for you and him. You wouldn’t need to worry about any disgusting sorcerers killing him and sealing you again.

Even if you hate him for killing the sorcerers, he can live with that. As long as you still love him, and stay by his side, he can deal with that.

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Taglist: @makuzume @spicyhyunn @pearlescentwonderland @namjooningera @six-eyed-samurai @natriae @domainofmarie @lixern @fluttershyfangs @girlyuuta @anabort @yu-87 @sukunaglazer4ever @madison777x @dervngedgf @calisnewworld @ilybbg @the-banshee @mostnormalsukunastan2024real @williamafton26 @mythoswarrior-23 @megantheefan @mindless-rock @kimsunoo2003 @anayesha1 @lelelenlenn @shyshybabyy @unlikelystay @shigemis0ra @iloveboysinred @eresel4mordemivid4 @meo66 @frozen-waffles @mrsslytherin00 @lazyperfectioniste @whosmarjj @itawifeyy @sugurubabe @hanniebanggi

Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Like what you read? Here are all my other works and consider following me! If you’re interested in this AU, here is the masterlist for all works in this AU so far. If you would like to request something, please check my rules first before doing so.

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theyluvkarolina · 5 months ago

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౨ৎ LACY ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Max’s new girlfriend reminds you of everything you aren’t. You didn’t just want him anymore, you wanted to be HER.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Max Verstappen x Ex!Fem!Reader (not very much tbh), Platonic!Kelly Piquet x Platonic!Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ Kelly Piquet mentions 😰😰 (IM JOKING DON’T COME AFTER ME), obsession, changing oneself to fit another’s gaze, mentions of straightening and changing hair color.

A/N ౨ৎ Hello there 🛸 -Anon!! I’m so happy to see that you’ve been reading my fics for so long, I truly appriciate you and want to thank you for how you’ve been so supportive these past months as well 🩷 Although… I’m not so sure happy endings are in my vocabulary 🤭 (JK I’LL MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING IN MY OWN WAY 🫶) Again, love you sm 🛸 -Anon, I hope you enjoy this 🩷 (requested!)

I’m also VERY sorry this is so short!! I was out of brain juice while writing this but still wanted to do it at the same time for you! :(

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1 ✔︎

liked by redbullracing, kellypiquet, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1 celebrating with my favorite people ❤️

tagged ; kellypiquet

2,364 comments

kellypiquet ✔︎ ❤️❤️

→ username9 you’ll never be y/n → username10 @ username9 yeah, because she’s kelly and they BOTH love max in their own way.

username1 missing y/n-stappen.

username2 they are so cute but i will never get over max and y/n </3

username3 MAX VERSTAPPEN DOMINANCE 🗣️ 🔥 🗣️ 🔥

→ username11 DU DU DU DU 🗣️🦁 🔥 🇳🇱

username4 can’t believe that y/n isn’t the one to celebrate with max for getting another word championship :(

→ username5 what is with all of you complaining about y/n not being there?! max moved on, you guys should too. → username6 @ username5 damn sorry that we have opinions that we are voicing. → username7 @ username5 soooo we aren’t aloud to miss someone that was a part of max’s life for so long and that we grew to love? → username8 @ username5 parasocial relationship fr tbh 💀

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

kellypiquet ✔︎

liked by y/n_l/n, meshki, lailahasanovic and others

kellypiquet 🌊 ☀️

1,876 comments

username9 HERE BEFORE MAX

→ username10 bro is faster than max emilian verstappen

username11 the y/n like???

→ username12 like what is she doing here 😭 → username13 can another girl not like a photoshoot in her life?? 💀

username14 so pretty!! 🤩

username15 she’s such a upgrade from y/n honestly

→ username16 and why is that??? → username17 @ username16 because she fits a driver’s type aka a model 💀?? → username18 @ username17 sorry i didn’t know you speak for all drivers and their types

y/n_l/n

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, oliviarodrigo, sydneyserena and others

y/n_l/n 🐚 🌞

2,108 coments

lilymunihe ✔︎ take the swimsuit off when??

→ y/n_l/n 🫣🫣 → username32 take the swimsuit off so she can stop copying kelly?? now. → username33 @ username32 you kelly fans are so obsessed with y/n like make a fanpage for at at this point

username19 hold up this looks sorta familiar

username20 it’s giving kelly rip off

→ username21 kelly rip off?? she’s the og. → username34 @ username21 og fake model? yeah → username35 @ username34 honey you do a face reveal at this point because that black screen pfp ain’t doing you justice. → username36 @ username35 LMAO EAT HER UP

username22 anyone noticed how the swimsuit looks like kelly’s??

→ username23 white swimsuit = copying kelly, got it.

username24 trying hard to look like kelly piquet

→ username25 super duper! → username37 you all accuse this woman of something like 20,000 other people never posted a similar photo

username26 some people are seriously stretching with the y/n copying kelly. so her and kelly both posted photos of them at the pool, what about it???

→ username27 LITERALLY. → username28 at this point they must just accuse every wag of copying kelly with their photos → username29 @ username28 honestly 😭😭

fransicac.gomes ✔︎ pretttyyyy 😍

→ username30 pretty good at copying? yes. → username31 @ username30 OML SHUT UP.

[kellypiquet has posted a story 18 minutes!] [y/n_l/n has posted a story!]

210 people have replied to your story!

username38 girlie…

username39 now this isn’t very subtle anymore is it

username40 y/n??

lilymunihe ✔︎ girl. open our chats rn or i’m taking away your phone privileges

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n has posted a story 5 minutes ago!

[1: 🤎🧸🍂] [2: new hair!! ☕🕰🎞]

104 people have replied to your stories!

username41 y/n…

username42 not even hiding it at this point.

username43 copycat

username44 trying to win back max and not in a good way.

iamrebeccad ✔︎ y/n lovely, we need to talk. :(

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

y/n_l/n i’ve been in a rough patch these past couple months. and it took a wake up call to realize that you don’t need to change yourself to be loved.

2,107 comments

kellypiquet ✔︎ i’m so happy about the journey for you! we should go get coffee sometime to chat! 🥰

→ y/n_l/n i would love that 🥹🩷 → username45 GIRL SUPPORTING GIRLS!! 😭 → username46 no war between them. no kelly > y/n or y/n > kelly. → username47 it’s ust Y/n AND Kelly 🥹!

username48 so happy for y/n to be finally moving on and focusing on herself now. she deserves all the love.

maxvertsappen1 ✔︎ can’t wait for my favorite girls to get along 😁

→ username49 “MY FAVORITE GIRLS” → username50 IM CRYING. → username51 max and y/n might not be together, but they support each other like they never split and i love that.

alexandrasaintmleux that’s our girl that we love 🩷

→ y/n_l/n aleeeeexxx 😭😭 i’m the one that loves you!! → charles_leclerc ✔︎ suspicious.

franciscac.gomes ✔︎ we love you y/n 🫶

→ y/n_l/n i want to kiss you omg → pierregasly ✔︎ that’s my gf?? → y/n_l/n and that’s my bestie?? → francisca.cgomes ✔︎ that’s it you two, fight over me to the death 😩

iamrebeccad ✔︎ so proud of you!! ❤️

→ y/n_l/n beccccaaaa 😭

kellypiquet ✔︎

liked by y/n_l/n, maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

kellypiquet ✔︎ friendship start in the most miraculous ways sometimes. had such a fun time with @ y/n_l/n! P can’t wait to see her new friend again!

tagged ; y/n_l/n

1 comment

y/n_l/n ❤️

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hoseoksluna · 16 days ago

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THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him.

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead.

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without.

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company?

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny.

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents.

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down.

Somehow, the act made it hotter.

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty.

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you.

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.”

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill.

This is thrilling.

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it.

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center.

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order.

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you.

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however.

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.”

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain.

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is.

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it.

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this.

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about.

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat.

That touch-starved you are.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.”

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on.

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about?

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle.

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords.

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through.

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it.

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.”

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of.

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is.

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.”

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole.

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts.

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it.

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too.

This is the closest you’ll ever get.

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly.

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him.

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged.

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered.

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup.

And you shall.

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.”

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree.

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely.

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours.

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand.

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time.

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience.

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts.

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts.

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling.

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation.

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is.

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change.

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless.

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them.

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.

“Like what?”

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe.

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings.

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life.

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.”

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you.

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth.

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature.

And literature is your life. It’s all you know.

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you.

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.”

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel.

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation.

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter.

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?”

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction.

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering.

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand… his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone.

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away.

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you.

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress.

And you don’t lock the door.

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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algae-tm · 6 months ago

Text

KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I’m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

#charles leclerc smau #f1 smau #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one smau

283 notes · View notes

chrisevansonly · 1 year ago

Text

𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

✯social media au

✯charles leclerc x female reader

✯surprise surprise, a new leclerc is on the way!

✯not requested, just wanted to post a little something, im still struggling with writing motivation :/ but i might do a pt2 to this if people like it<3

part 2 part 3

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, kellypique, arthur_leclerc and 765,000 others

little baby leclerc coming soon, i can’t wait to be a parent with you charles, our baby is the luckiest little one in the world♥️

tagged charles_leclerc

see 106,000 comments

username oh my god i cannot😭

username im so happy for them!!!

username they’ve been trying for so long i’m so so happy for them🥹🥹

arthur_leclerc congratulations you two, can’t wait to be an uncle❤️

liked by charles_leclerc and ynleclerc

charles_leclerc je t’aime tellement chérie

charles_leclerc can’t wait for this new adventure❤️

>ynleclerc i love you so so much ❤️

carlossainz55 baby ferrari alert!!!!

liked by ynleclerc

username convulsing and crying atm

ynleclerc added to their story!

*comments disabled*

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, ynleclerc, joristrouche and 1M others

last summer as a family of two, can’t wait to be a family of three❤️

tagged ynleclerc

see 367,000 comments

username DAD LECLERC INCOMING

username y/n looks so beautiful!!!

lilyhme @:y/nleclerc babe you are looking stunning!!

>ynleclerc my angel you!!! miss you so much🩷

username omg the baby content we’ll get soon😭

ynleclerc family of three omg 🥹

ynleclerc i’m so excited 🩷🩷

liked by charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari we’ll save the best seat for them!!

liked by ynleclerc and charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc added to their story!

*comments disabled*

ynleclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, apmmonaco, charles_leclerc and 989,000 others

i will forever be very thankful for charles who takes me out at 3:30 in the morning for the most strange cravings that sometimes takes us a few hours out of town. even if i’m crying feeling bad he does his best to cheer me up, make me laugh and keep me happy. he is the absolute best husband in the world, and he’s going to be the most amazing father, thank you for being you my love🩷

tagged charles_leclerc

see 109,000 comments

username this is so sweet😭

username he’s giving dilf vibes already

username 🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc i’d do anything for you, i love you❤️

>ynleclerc i love you more:(

carlossainz55 yet you wouldn’t walk 3 feet to get me a sandwich…hmm

>charles_leclerc mate it was right in front of you

>carlossainz55 I WANTED TO FEEL IMPORTANT

username carlos just wants to be loved too 😭

arthur_leclerc don’t forget the time he came over and raided my fridge knowing i had the specific jello you liked….

>ynleclerc thank you thur🥺🥺

charles_leclerc

liked by ynleclerc, joristrouche, puma and 2M others

closer and closer everyday 🩷🩵

tagged ynleclerc

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username do they know the gender yet?!

>ynleclerc not yet!!! 🥰

username i think it’s a girl

username charles as a boy dad??

ynleclerc feels like a lifetime, i just want them to be here:(

>charles_leclerc soon mon ange, soon❤️

>ynleclerc not soon enough 🥺

username IM SO EXCITED FOR THEM😭

landonorris my money is on girl

>carlossainz55 mines on boy

>danielricciardo im w carlos

>alexalbon nah it’s gonna be a girl

username the grid guesses 👀

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adhd-fandom-hyperfocus · 27 days ago

Text

Secret Box

Sorry no fancy formatting or anything here. I got sudden inspired to write this from an anon @moodymisty got Tagging @kit-williams because I know Mr. Turbo is her man Warnings: Hints of NSFW stuff at the very end. Sorry if Turbo sounds ooc I haven't written him at all before so be kind. Also, did not proofread this. MINOR DNI

"Oh I don't know, I would be unhappy too if all I had to was tear things down and war. Maybe he wants to something else?"

"What do you mean? He seems quite happy breaking things."

He watched you frown so deeply, "My little bother was like that, everyone thought he like being mad. Just did not know how to convey his feelings, and felt like he had to stay under father's thumb. But he really just wanted to be an artist. I loved his art!"

"I didn't know you had a brother, where is he?"

"Dead. Died angry and lonely because father wanted a soldier."

His furious hearts stopped in his chest. You saw him. You did not realize it, but you did. It scared him, mad him want to rage and break you. It made him want to keep you close. Show you those things he wanted to forget.

***

"What in the Emperor's name is that?"

"Oh one of those puzzle boxes, some call them secret boxes because once you open them you can keep little important secrets in them!" your smile makes his head spin and his stomach lurch.

He wanted you to smile at him like that more. He needed you to talk to him about the silly little boxes.

"Why do you have so many? They seem pointless, we do not have anything to keep in them."

"Oh, I am far too stupid to open them, but I find them beautiful, each one looks different, opens differently, and all so complex, like people!"

***

Weeks he slaved over his workbench, keeping this secret to all, which was made easy when got the small chance to engage with you. Or most commonly, watch you interact with others, needed to make sure you didn't give his secrets away; at least he tried to convince himself of that.

You thought yourself stupid, but you figured him out in a way not even the damn Emperor himself could. What looked so simple was perhaps the most complex of all.

You wanted to see the art he could create that wasn't for war, how his mind could do if allowed to run free. Called his work art, like it was something to also marvel at.

The primarch looked over his newest creation, the small box was intricate in it's design, how he liked things. But it was what was inside that made his chest feel weak, and yet made him powerful all the same. The primarch of iron was feeling himself soften at the heat that had made a permanent home in his lower abdomen.

When he presented the box to you he did not say he made it, refused to. But as he explained his lie, the look you cast at him shocked him. You knew his bluff. Of course you did.

"Well, whoever made this is a true master! I have never seen something to beautiful before, thank you my lord," you smile up at him, letting him keep his pride and secret, "I know you are a busy man, but should you remember who made this could you be so kind to your serf and tell me?"

Prutabo grunted and nodded, "If I feel so inclined. Let me know if and when you open it."

***

Days and weeks pass and you keep him updated with your progress, he makes comments that hint he isn't too interested, after all someone of his genius would have opened it already. You agree, but you won't give up. You determination makes his hearts feel like they are in knots. How happy and joyful you are over his little toy. The fun you find in testing yourself only just to say you did it. The moments of you updating him live inside his dreams, where he is brave enough to hold your hand and smile back.

The crusade had called him away and like always it kept him longer than anyone else. While his brothers got to reap all the glory he was cleanup, or the brunt hammer to break wills. So of course when the Lord of Iron returned everyone scattered. Hid like cowards.

Not you. Even with him exuding even more of his dour demeanor you came running up to him. Puzzle box in hand.

"My Lord! I know you just returned, but I have been waiting for teran weeks for you to return." you were overflowing with excitement; practically vibrating with it.

It was like a disease that spread quickly, because as you spoke his ire cooled. You were happy he was home.

"Make it quick." though he hoped you took as long as you wanted.

"I am about to open the box, and I wanted to open it with you!" you grin up at him coming closer, "Exciting right?"

You...waited for him. Wanted to share in his happiness with...Throne he thought he was going to burst out of his armor and into flames.

"For someone who cannot easily solve things, I suppose. Well, open it." he grumbled, fighting to keep his mask on.

As you moved the last piece into place and opened the lid, a centerpiece rose up, and thereupon it was a metal sculpting of morning glories rising up and in bloom, the spun slowly as music played. And resting inside the main flower was a small ring, designed to look like vines holding a blooming rose the held a pink diamond.

Oh the look upon your face he would have waited lifetimes just to see it. It made this little box the greatest thing he would ever fashion.

"My Lord...I...forgive me, my words are failing." you whisper still marveling at the spinning flowers, "I love morning glories..."

Perturabo nodded, "I am aware. I do listen..." he wanted to know about the ring, wanted you to wear it.

Let everyone know you were his. That you wanted to be his.

Tears well up in your eyes as you so gingerly take the ring. Without needing to ask he gently holds the box so you might place it upon one of your fingers. He watches intently as you try various fingers before putting it upon your ring finger.

"My..."

"Perturabo. You can call me by my name...should you wish to continue to wear that ring." he spoke so very softly for himself.

Thorne, he needed you to keep it on.

"I will, Perturabo," you say his name to see how it rolls off your tongue and it sounds like heaven to him.

When this crusade is over he will fill this place with sounds of your and his children, and he will cast off all this cold machinery for things that truly mattered to him. Being a toy maker in one's spare time wasn't such a foolish notion. He would not die like your brother, and leave you alone.

"Are you sure you want...I mean... I am a serf, people will talk and I do not want to tarnish your name." you whisper to him, eyes fixed on the ring.

"They would be foolish to speak of it where I can hear." was all he offered.

Your small hands slip over his covered in his massive gauntlets, and he was trembling to get this armor off.

"My Lady, if it pleases you," his voice low and he leaned in close so no other could hear, "I wish to remove this armor, if you would wait for me in my chambers..." he couldn't believe he was doing this! Smoothness and words were not his strong points, but for you, he would try, "There is a puzzle I would like to get to know intimately, work with my hands, would you be willing?"

His face burned as he waited what felt like eons for you to reply. Was this all too much too fast? Was he being a fool?

You take the music puzzle box from him and when you pull back you are smiling with cheeks as flushed as his, "I would love that. Now go before your men see you this shade of red and not yelling. I do not want to ruin your reputation." you tease

Perturabo smiled, "You, I will allow to ruin me." he said before tearing off to get this damn armor off.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #perturabo #amon writes

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lemurzsquad · 9 months ago

Text

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away.

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible.

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them.

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock.

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…”

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

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covetyou · 7 months ago

Note

please impregnate dieter

ok bye 💜👽🛸

fine 👽🛸 beam him up, boys.

propagation

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!alien rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub/non-con (because alien abduction), alien impregnation, implied mpreg, anal sex (including rimming and fingering), tentacle (just one), belly bulge, alien gender includes humanoid alien ladies with shapeshifting tentacle dicks, spaceship bondage, light mind control. word count: 2.8k summary: He always knew their existence to be fact, but Dieter Bravo never considered their continued existence would one day rely on him.

A/N: seeded left me with too many thots, so I accidentally stayed up until 4am writing this, and finished it this morning, thanks to this comment of yours. I hope you're happy. I have very thoroughly impregnanted That Man™, with his own hypervirile sperm.

And for anyone curious, he was beamed up into the spaceship like a Sim.

tagging a few unfortunate people who have expressed interest in my little weirdo:

@sp00kymulderr @umnitsa @missredherring @thereaperisabitch @magpiepills

@pedge-page @max--phillips

Dieter has no clue how long he's been here. It could be minutes, it could be weeks. Time stopped meaning much of anything pretty quickly - that's how it goes when you're trussed up in a windowless room, strapped up by some extraterrestrial technology the likes of which he hadn't even seen imagined on the most bizarre of movie sets.

Logically, he knows he should be afraid. If there's one thing Dieter Bravo knows, it's to fear the unknown. But, some part deep inside him knew this to always be true. These things that have him existed long before he did and would go on to exist long after him too. Even deeper down he knows that what they're doing to him right now is to ensure that continued existence.

There's no other reason he can think of for being in a position like this.

Or stripped entirely naked.

And nothing else will quite explain the contraption currently strapped to his cock.

No amount of wiggling will dislodge it, and between the way his arms are strapped up and the way his hips are hoisted high in the air, his head left to dangle as it pleases, he doesn't think it's coming off anytime soon. It's a good thing he kind of likes it, even if it does make him feel a bit like a dairy cow.

In the minutes, hours, days, since he's been here, not a single soul has bothered to come in to see him. He didn't know if this damn tube that was pumping him was even okay to piss into, or where his next meal would come from. Realistically, he hadn't thought that he'd die here - it didn't feel like that kind of thing. Still, the fact remained that he hadn't seen a single living thing since the light took him and the floating feeling took over his body.

It was a floaty feeling, thanks to the position he's been kept in, that hasn't quite left him. Between that and his cock being relentlessly pumped without reprieve or release, he's starting to feel desperately lonely here, floating through space or wherever here is.

No sooner does he think it, when there's a hiss of mechanical doors behind him. Dieter opens his eyes - he'd closed them some time ago - and there she is, stalking towards him on two long legs, talking to him in a tongue he's never heard.

It's an unnatural voice. Somehow too high, and too low, and lilting, and rumbling all at once. It's the voice of a dream, one he's had before, except this time it's so very real. It wraps itself around him and lodges into his bones, vibrating sound through to his core until he's gasping and suddenly understanding everything.

This is a processing chamber. He is to be processed, bred, and released.

The newfound knowledge isn't exactly a relief, but he supposes the machine trying to milk his cock without letting him come just yet makes sense. The longer he teased himself, the more he had to give, and it seemed these lifeforms already knew that too.

She purrs, dark eyes bright and curious, and it sends a jolt to his cock, twitching and swelling in the grip of the machine. If he wasn't sure about coming before, now he's certain. He doesn't care who, or what they are. He just wants to burst, to give them every last drop he has, and to make a show of it for the alien thing standing behind him. She's beautiful. Her skin practically glitters, shimmers holographic, translucent, full of sunbeams and starlight. Her eyes trace him, examining every inch, before settling between his legs where his engorged cock hangs and his balls draw up in a desperate attempt to come.

But the machine still keeps him on the cusp of losing it.

Even when one elongated finger reaches out to stroke him, tracing down the seam of his sack, he can't come, and that's when he realizes it's her doing.

"Please. You can have it. All of it. Just please..." his voice sounds thick and just about as alien to his ears as hers did, but he knows she understands him.

He knows, because with a blip and a soft whine, he's being maneuvered in his restraints by some unseen force. With legs spread wider, and his shoulders pulled back, that ethereal voice hums through him again.

...Ready for processing...

It's her. Dieter can see her out of the corner of his eye as he twists in his restraints. But she's changed. Sort of.

She still looks effervescent - her skin shifting and fizzing under his gaze - but so much about her has expanded and grown. Her fingers have gotten longer, wider, the tips practically glowing with each throb of blood through her veins. She seems taller too, and broader, rounder, but he's struggling to work out what's a trick of the too-bright light and what's real. Fuck, everything feels so real.

Most of all what Dieter notices, and can't take his eyes off, is the swelling appendage between her legs that definitely wasn't there a moment ago. He'd almost mistake it for a cock, if it wasn't for the way it moved and writhed, as if a limb all on its own.

He should be scared. He knows he should. But he knows that all that's between him and coming is being processed, and he's quite liking the look of what that means.

Another tingle ripples through him, just as the cool weight of her drops down behind him.

...Commence lubrication...

Something slippery and long slides along his ass. It slips between his cheeks, wet and slick as it glides across his puckered hole, leaving trails across his skin. Dieter can't help the groan that leaves him. If this is lubrication, he can't wait for what comes next.

And then it slides inside, the slender tip breaching his asshole for a moment, feeling wetter than any tongue he's ever had there before. He can't help but twitch in his restraints, his legs trying desperately to give him momentum to rut into the air, to give him more friction so he can just come already.

Instead, he's held still by long fingers with too many knuckles. Fingers so long they wrap around his entire thigh, anchoring him in place. He's totally at the mercy if her and her tongue - because that's definitely what it is, even if the feeling of it swirling around his rim is more than a little different to the human tongues he was used to.

It probes into him deeper, and he groans in his restraints. The machine on his cock has stopped it's sucking, but it hasn't given up it's grip. He can't bust even if he wanted to, and he's starting to think she's never going to let him come.

He can feel it. The tongue slipping deeper, her mouth meeting the skin of his asshole, and the slick rush of liquid as it pours into his hole.

He's begging. He can hear it distantly coming from his own mouth, before the soft lullaby of her voice rings in his head and turns his bones to jelly.

But then she's gone. Her mouth unlatching from his ass, the tongue slipping from his hole, and the fizz of knowing is back in his head.

...Lubrication complete...

There's so much of it he can feel it dribble and bubble out of him, leaving gloopy trails down his thighs as he shudders in the bindings keeping him hoisted high.

He can see pools of it on the floor beneath him too, and more dripping in oily globs out of him as he shudders. No lube, or saliva, he's ever experienced is like this. Nothing has ever pumped so deep and felt so good.

...Commence dilation...

Fear.

Fear because he knows those words, but doesn't know what it means for him here and now, with his ass so he exposed to her and his cock at the mercy of the machine. Dieter tries in vain to move, to tuck his ass under so he's a little less exposed.

But it's no use.

The long fingers find his thighs again, and that voice echoes through his head, bringing him to calm as the tip of one throbbing finger strokes against the slick of his hole.

When it pushes in, the stretch feels no different to the toys he's used on his own ass, or the many people he's had fuck him before. It feels good. Incredible even. Each slight fuck of the finger into him coinciding with a deep throb in his asshole.

The bulbous tip of her finger pops in and out of him, drawing more moans out of him as his rim is stretched around the appendage.

When the thinks dilation isn't too bad, her other hand creeps up to his ass, pulling him apart and holding him open.

The stretch is deeper like this. And he's nodding his head, spurring her on to finger his ass more, to go deeper and curl just the way he loves until she's milking his prostate. He knows he can come like that. He doesn't need anything on his cock, he just needs some well practiced fingers in his ass, and he has a feeling this creature is extremely well practiced at this.

Deeper doesn't come, but the stretch does. It's the stretch of another of her thick tipped fingers being pushed into his hole. And when that pops past the resistance of his asshole, he yelps, his chin wobbling in a feeble sob. Dieter can't help but gyrate his hips. He's so desperate for more he's willing to risk those fingers pulling out and holding him in place.

Except they don't.

She lets him rut this time. He can feel the pleasant approval from her in his mind as he rocks himself in the air, fucking her fingers as deep as his shallow movements will allow.

Even when the fingers tug at him in opposite directions, he doesn't stop rocking. He feels so full and stretched, that he barely registers a third finger joining the others until it's too late.

He almost panics. Almost, because he's fairly certain at that same moment she tells him to calm, to relax, and he does. The tense muscles in his asshole give in to the fingers and let them in, all three fucking into him and stretching him beyond anything he's had before. Even a fourth, and final, finger doesn't draw response from him beyond a whimper and a sob, his hips still doing whatever they can to get the digits deeper.

...Dilation complete...

And then they're gone.

And he feels so empty.

"Please. Please you can't. Don't leave me like this, please. You've got to - I need to - please. Anything. I'll do anything."

Dieter knows he's babbling. Knows she might not even understand a word he's saying, mess that he is. But he doesn't care. He's never been so desperate in his life. He wants her fingers back, or her tongue, or even that terrifying thing writhing between her legs -

...Commence insemination...

He doesn't even hear it, even though it's right there inside of his brain, unavoidable. Dieter doesn't hear, because the moment the voice floats into his body, the slick tip of her cock, more like a tentacle than any penis he'd ever seen, slips easily inside of him.

It's immediately swelling and growing as it slips deeper. He can feel as he's stretched wider and wider around it, the whines that leave his chest turning more and more desperate with each throb of the thing plundering his hole. It's deeper than anything has ever been, he can feel it as it wriggles around through him, pushing aside organs and pulsing into the deepest parts of him. It's impossibly wide too, the deep stretch in his asshole unlike anything he's ever felt, even two cocks being no match for this thing she's wedged inside of him.

And the deeper it pushes, the wider it pulls him, the more he craves it, the more he needs something to anchor him down and ground him even as he floats along, hoisted in the air of a fucking spaceship to be bred by an alien creature.

Whoever his captor is, she's benevolent, and she gives him exactly what he wants. Her long hands wrapping themselves around his hips, finger tips pressing on the bulge in his belly, massaging him and drawing soft ah ah ah's from his mouth. She likes it when he makes noise, he can tell by the burst of approval tingling down his spine, like she's singing something beautiful to him as she destroys the very hole she just prepared.

When those same fingers trail down to his balls, the throbbing in their tips turning to frantic thrumming, vibrating his sack in her hand, he knows he's done for. The machine around his cock starts sucking in earnest, switched back on by some command unheard by Dieter. The tight grip it had around his base is gone, and all he can feel is relentless sucking, the buzzing along his balls, and the writhing tentacle cock deep in his guts, fucking the life out of him.

He feels higher than he's ever been, and before he knows it he's coming, his cock throbbing and pulsing in the tube that contains him, spilling out seemingly endlessly as the thing inside him writhes, pressing against his prostate and milking him for more and more and more.

He doesn't stop coming. It's still leaking out of him, his balls spent and drawn, but his cock red and throbbing and sore but still so drippy from the relentless onslaught in his asshole.

Around him everything whirrs to life. Lights flickering on control panels, sparkling across his vision. There's movement too, above and to the sides of him, but he can't move, doesn't even much care what's going on as he still twitches and comes and comes with her tentacock buried in him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck -"

There's pulsing. The gentle throb of her fingers was one thing, but the thing inside him is now pulsing so deep it stretches him wide as each pulse ripples from the base of her through to the tip, where he can feel it burst and fill him.

And with one final wave, the biggest yet, the thing inside him throbs and bursts once more before she releases a pained gasp. The fingers around his hips don't release, the throbbing in the tips of them so quick the vibrations are numbing his skin.

Dieter can hear it - actually hear it - her voice uttering some gibberish he doesn't understand, and the thrumming pulse of her fingers eases off, even if the depth of her cock does not.

...Processing...complete...

His own breaths are the only ones he can hear among the slow winding down of the machine around him. There's other sounds too, as his vision hazes and blurs. Snicks of tubes disconnecting, the hydraulic hiss of moving machinery, the soft steps of the alien behind him as she pulls away, and out of him, with one final gasp from both of them as the impossible length of the appendage she had buried in him finally comes free.

The machine unlatches from his cock without another sound, before collapsing into some hidden compartment in the floor. The panel lights switch themselves off, and his restraints fall slack. He can finally move again, twist to see her, even though all of him aches too much to ever want to move again.

But he does. Anything to see her one last time, because he knows in his bones that this is his last chance. He's never known it himself, but he's certain she looks how love feels. Even now as she reduces back down to something a little smaller, but nonetheless imposing, he can tell that that's what she is. And maybe it's her function, the draw of her electrifying skin. Maybe she looks this way to make processing easier. Still, looking at her, he already knows he'd do it again, if only to lay his eyes on the thing that looks so much like a love he's never known.

With a final look into those beautiful, endless eyes, he lets exhaustion take him, the last remnants of her voice flitting through his veins just as he succumbs to darkness.

...Thank you...

He dreams of a light so bright he's certain he can hear it, the harsh metallic glare of it buzzing through his ears, making them ring and his head spin.

But the light gives way to darkness as he wakes, and he sees the very same stars that took him, just as distant as they've ever been, and looking down to the city below from the hills, he sees stars there too, as close as they always are, and the ache taking deep and low in his belly is forgotten, if only until dawn breaks across the horizon.

#dieter bravo #👽#dieter bravo x 👽#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics

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feedthefandomfest · 5 months ago

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Comment Bingo (Original Edition)

Very simple rules: connect 5 squares in a line by completing the task in each square

Very simple goals: encourage readers to comment on fics; encourage fandom writers to KEEP WRITING

(reposted so a cleaned up version links back here rather than my main blog)

STEPS:

Download Bingo Card HERE (png) or HERE (jpg) or HERE (pdf)

Complete the tasks on the card, marking off each as you go, until you've completed 5 in a line (vertical, horizontal, or diagonal; NO double-dipping; kudos ♥️ is a free space)

POST your winning card (or list your filled squares) and tag @feedthefandomfest! Glory in your victory.

REWARD:

✨ victory badges ✨

Tag me when you earn a bingo (or double, triple, quadruple... FULL CARD bingo) and I'll reblog a shiny badge with your name on it to commemorate the win.

FAQ:

Can I comment on tumblr or only on AO3?

Either one is great! The tags are drawn from AO3, but most can be adjusted to suit tumblr as well, so I say go for it. Tumblr fics deserve love, too.

Can one comment count toward multiple squares if the fic fits more than one category?

Since the goal is for as many fics to receive comments as possible, try to comment on a different fic for each square.

Is there a time limit?

Nope! Take your time or set your own deadline, whatever works for you. This blog is still in its early experimental stage, so feedback welcome. Play around and let me know what you like and what might be added/changed—including ideas for squares on future cards!

Do I have to record progress on the actual card?

Nope! If it’s easier to keep track in a different way, that’s fine. This is all very honor system, so if you say you earned a Bingo, we’ll call it a win 🎉

Some people have been tracking not just completed tasks, but the fics they read along the way, so that when they post a bingo, they can also promote the fics/authors in a little rec list. Not required, but definitely cool to see!

Can I adjust the task in a particular square to suit my comfort level?

Of course! If you deliver something in the spirit of the task, then it’s all good. Use your best judgement in constructing a comment that will make the author smile, and you can consider it a job well done.

In general, so long as each square has produced at least one comment, you’re golden and I salute you 🫡

Happy commenting!!

#been meaning to do this for ages #only card that was posted on my main rather than here #NOT A NEW CARD SORRY #just tidied up version of original post #comment bingo #feed the fandom fest

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bluespring864 · 8 days ago

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Tags by @crossedcourt <3

I will now run with them and write an essay because I am always insane about Novandy ;-)

Specifically I want to talk about the "yes i've beaten you on every surface" part. Because I've had a few messages and seen a few comments to the effect of "Wait, they are starting a partnership at the Australian Open of all places?! How many times did Novak beat Andy there?" To which the answer is: Andy lost four of his five Australian Open finals to Novak, three of them rather badly (two in straight sets, one with a fourth set bagel) and he also very narrowly lost probably the most epic match they ever played - according to both of them - which was the Australian Open semifinal in 2012.

While this would be devastating and a cause for animosity for many tennis players I need you to understand that THEY ARE NOT LIKE THAT. At their first meeting at an under-14 tournament, Les Petits As in France in 2001, which concidentally was Novak's first international tournament ever, Andy destroyed him 6-0, 6-1 (Novak: "You gave me one game!") and they still laugh about it to this day. If and when they do press for this new coaching partnership, expect this to come up a few times.

It has always felt to me like their modus operandi was: us against the world (Novak: “Sometimes we catch up for dinner. It’s good to see somebody you grew up with doing so well in professional tennis and it’s great to show to people that top-five players, who are big rivals on the court, can be really good friends as well.”) And it never really changed, even when Novak took a commanding 24-11 lead in the H2H over the years (I am only counting matches played and leaving out the fucking tragic walkover from Andy that prevented their last meeting from happening), after it briefly almost evened out in 2012/2013.

This attitude, of course, is rather impressive from Andy, who could very well be bitter about how differently their careers have gone, considering that they are such similar players who were born only one week apart and that there was definitely much more hype around Andy at the start of their careers (Novak said when they were both 18 and played doubles at, you've guessed it, the Australian Open, that he would and wouldn't like to be like Andy because on the one hand Andy had much more support than him at the time, on the other hand he had the crushing weight of expectations to contend with).

But instead of being bitter, for the last few years of his career you could hear Mr. Murray say things like: “It would be amazing to see him do it [win the 23d Grand Slam] on Sunday. I will be supporting him. And I hope he can do it. Because it is incredible what he has done.” or plainly "I'm happy for him, he deserves it." Or even: "After Wimbledon [2023], everyone was saying it was a changing of the guard, but it wasn't for me." Oh it wasn't for you? You are defensive over the man who has beaten you more than any other in your career being written off too early?

Even during that crazy year of 2016, when they were the two frontrunners in the rankings by miles and Andy was chasing the number one spot, what did he say after losing the only French Open final he ever played? Well, he started it off with "This is his day today. What he’s achieved the last 12 months is phenomenal." and not only told the audience they had been extremely lucky to see Novak make history once again, but also ended with: "I’m proud to have been a part of today."

Us. Against. The. World.

So that's Andy, but what about Novak? Well, not to be outdone he will mention Andy in almost every interview, even when he was very much not asked about him. He will remember the 2013 Wimbledon final which he lost in straight sets to Andy as "a historic, special moment that I cherish" and, on court at the ATP Finals 2016, after his own second half of the year had been rather dismal, he also explained to the crowd that they were part of history that day and that "It was an honour to be on the court and to be a part of the big occasion. Andy is definitely number one of the world. He is the best player. He deserved to win."

If asked about the best matches he has played with Andy he will readily mention the 2012 London Olympics semifinal. We all know how important the Olympics have always been to Novak (if you didn't before 2024, you certainly know now) and this was a semifinal loss at his beloved Olympics in straight sets. Let that sink in.

When Andy retired this year, Novak explained: “He will inspire many generations to come. He inspires me, and we are about the same age." He, who has just finished his career outside of the top 100 and in a doubles match because his body wouldn't even let him play singles anymore, inspires you, who has achieved more than any other in this sport? That's really lovely, Novak. Oh, and by the way, how about Andy becoming world No. 1 and ending Novak's longest stint at No. 1 in his career? Novak's post at the time: "I am really happy to be in the same era with you."

Us. Against. The. World.

So, to make a very long story short: If I was surprised about the coaching news yesterday it was because they actually went for it, not because it seemed outlandish to me in any way. As you can see, it makes perfect sense. I am really glad we are getting another chapter of this story which - according to Novak - is "A script, a long story. A romance, I’ll call it." after we previously were treated to - according to Andy - "Rivals, doubles partners, friends and lovers?" By the way, he still has that Instagram post pinned. Anyway, before I digress, let me conclude this by saying:

You thought their story was over? Think again.

#whoops i may have written a shipping manifesto #enjoy my rambling guys :)#this is what happens when my tennis idiots feed me properly after such a long time persisting on crumbs #novandy #tennis talk

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lunamadhatter99 · 1 year ago

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All for the cameras

chapter 2

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Here we go, part 2! Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the support with the first chapter!! I'm so glad that everyone liked it.

I hope you're going to like this second chapter too🤞 again if you're new and want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment here❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: It's time for the big event. And better keep our eyes open.

Chapter warning: none, except the usual mention of prostitution and usual Hunger Games stuff. Nothing too wild. We still won't see Finnick in this chapter, but I promise it's going to be worth it❤️

Tag list

@guacam011y

@justtrying2getby

@idontevenknow1359

@alexandra-001

@bambikitten

@maggiecc

@redh00dsbf

@haneybunny

@1-800-styles

@sisiking99

"Snow is watching us." Haymitch says, we're almost at the Capitol for the final interview and the big celebration.

"Of course, he is. He needs to watch everything. Especially the inconveniences," I scoff.

"Yeah. And if he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he's not happy." Haymitch continues, "instead of being in love, you two sounds like you're reading from a drilling manual."

"You try reading that stuff that Effie writes us," Peeta mutters.

"Snow doesn't care." I tell him. "That's not how you want to convince him."

"I'm open to suggestions," he says back, tired.

"We could get married," Katniss quietly suggests, not looking up at anyone.

"That's not helping," Haymitch comments.

"I'm serious. If, like you said we're on this train forever, it's gonna happen eventually. Why not now?"

"It does make a statement. I'll give you that." Haymitch then looks at Peeta who agrees, but quickly stands up and leave. Katniss looks at me.

"It's something we can try, you're right... they would want it to happen eventually." I shrug.

"It's settle, then." Haymitch drinks to that and Katniss looks at me with hope.

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

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the party?" I ask Haymitch before I have to leave for Snow's residence. "Lots of free alcohol."

"I don't need free alcohol." He chuckles amused, "I'm a victor. I already got that."

"Don't you want to save a damsel in distress?" I try again.

"Our president seems very well guarded on his own," Haymitch jokes, "he's safe."

I genuinely laugh at that shaking my head.

"See? I need that! Please?" I try to beg just one more time.

"Don't send me that look, Princess." He turns his head away ready to walk away.

"Fine, fine... I tried." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Wish me luck, at least. "

"Maybe they'll leave you alone tonight, too interested in the two lovers," he sadly smiles at me, hoping, rather than believing, his own words to be true.

"Yeah, maybe," I take a deep breath, "well... have a goodnight, Haymitch."

"You too, princess." He winks, "and eyes open."

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

The party is just as exaggerated as ever. Lots of people, lots of food and drinks and lots of lights.

I make my way through the crowd, towards the tables full of food and drinks, hoping to find something to make this evening more tolerable. I take a glass and take a sip, breathing deeply.

Some people come to talk to me, about the victors, thankfully.

"Two victors, exciting, uh?" One of the them says cheerfully.

"Very," I say with my usual forced smile.

"You must be proud, two victors on your turn on 12," a woman with very voluminous hair nudges me, "you were the talk of the town these past few days, you know?"

"Me?" I ask, surprised by that, usually everyone forgets about me during the victory tour.

"Oh yes, well beside the lovebirds." A green haired man chimes in.

"Why?" I start to get anxious, the necklaces feel a lot tighter than before.

"I heard a rumour... someone wants to put a ring on your finger," she whisper-exclaims with a wink.

"W-what?... I don't think... uh..." I stutter.

"C'mon, everyone knows you're Cal Kingslay's favourite." She teases, with a devilish smirk, "and it's rumored that he wants you all to himself."

"Isn't that wonderful?" The man cheers. "We could probably get two well awaited weddings this year!"

"I hope I didn't ruin the surprise." The woman adds, with, what I'm sure is, a fake apologetic smile.

"Of course not. Now would you excuse me, gotta wait for my Victors." I say turning around to walk as far as possible from them, I finish my drink in one go and soon take another glass. Thankfully it's announced the arrival of Katniss and Peeta.

I spot them walking through the crowd following Effie and heading to Flavius and Octavia so I quickly join them.

As they see me arrive they immediately smile, relieved.

"There you are," I say holding my hands out for them to hold, "I've missed you,"

All for the cameras.

"It's only been 30 minutes," Peeta plays along.

"And you can stay that long away from me?" I fake offence, "You wound me,"

Everyone around us laugh so I just decide to stick with them as long as I can.

Helping them play along is much easier than expected, especially with Peeta, Katniss is still a little uncertain, but I get her, it got me years and years to get used to the cameras.

After I unfortunately finish my fourth glass, I need another one, in order to survive this evening.

"Excuse me a second," I whisper at them and head to the other side of the room where I can get another glass of Whiskey.

I turn around to go back to Katniss and Peeta when I'm met with a firm chest.

Unfortunately I already know who this might be.

"Found you" Cal teases.

I look up at him, the blue in his hair is even stronger than I remembered, and a little longer too, he got bigger, more muscles for sure, eyes just as devilish.

"That you did," I try to mask my fear with a chuckle.

"I've missed you, you know, been looking everywhere for you since I got here," he says with a sweet tone, that only makes my skin crawl. He grabs my hand to play with my fingers.

"I've been here the whole time, chatting with the Victors you know," I take my hand back, "I should get back to them, exc-"

"They got you all this time," he stops me from walking away, "it's not the same without you."

"I..." I want to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I mean, it's fun and all with Finnick, but with you..." he lets out a big dreamy sigh, "with you it's so much better"

He says the last part leaning in, close enough to suffocate me.

"Excuse me?"

We both turn and see Peeta standing there.

"Peeta!" I say, both surprised and relieved, "Peeta, uh.. this is Cal Kingslay, his father was once the general himself"

"Nice to meet you, sir," Peeta extends his hand and Cal grabs it and shakes it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Mellark," Cal greets him, he's tense though, he doesn't like being interrupted.

"Uh... Peeta, where's Katniss?" I ask to change the subject.

"She's dancing with the new Head Gamemaker," he explains simply, "but I still wanted to dance so I thought to ask you, if you're free."

"Oh, but of course," I say holding out my hand for him.

"But..." Cal starts.

"Oh, c'mon, he's our new victor, we can't say no to him, now can we?"

"Of course not," Cal says with a very evident forced smile.

That being said, me and Peeta go dance with the other people, I even spot Katniss with said New head Gamemaker.

"Thank you," I breathlessly say as we start dancing.

"You're welcome, you looked like you needed saving," he says with his kind smile, "who is he?"

"A fan" I simply say, "a very... uh... insisting one"

"I see," he nods.

"Thanks again, really."

"Don't worry about it." He laugh, "I mean, you helped saving me in that arena, this is nothing."

It's actually a lot more than he thinks.

I smile at him, grateful.

I then feel a slight tap on my shoulder, I turn around seeing Katnis and the Gamemaker.

"Mind changing partners?" He asks politely.

"Sure."

Me and Katniss exchange spots.

"It's an honour," he says once we're dancing.

"That honour would be the same if I knew your name sir," I tease.

"Oh, my bad, I apologise." He chuckles, amused, "I'm Plutarch Heavensbee,"

"Now the honour is mine," I say, "new head Gamemaker... when did they choose you?"

"Oh, I volunteer," he simply explains.

"Oh..." I let out a surprised laugh, "I see Katniss is already dictating fashion."

"Yeah, she's an inspiration, don't you think?" He says it almost as a challenge.

"I do," I answer seriously. "There must be more then... why volunteer?"

"I think it's time for the game to mean something," he shrugs and smiles.

"Mean something?" I wonder, "that's pretentious,"

"A little," he chuckles again, "so I'd keep those eyes open, if I were you."

My eyes snap back at his face, he's smiling, proud of himself.

Why? Does he know something? Does Haymitch know something?

Before I get the chance to ask him anything, the Capitol anthem starts and the crowd cheers.

"I'm sure we'll meet again," he says before following the rest of the people out for President Snow's speech.

I'm a little stunned, it's Effie's call that snaps me out of it. I quickly join her, Katniss and Peeta out.

We all gather in front of the residence, waiting for the President Snow to come out. I turn around looking for Cal, only to make sure he doesn't sneak up on me again. I see him looking around, for me probably, so I quickly turn around getting closer to Katniss.

At last the President comes out on his balcony.

"Tonight, on this, the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our two Victors." He starts with his usual charming persona, two young people who embody our idealsof strength and valor. And I, personally, want to congratulate them on the announcement of their engagement."

Everyone cheers. Peeta and Katniss smile at the crowd around them.

"Your love has inspired us. And I know it will go on inspiring us every day for as long as you may live." He holds up his glass and the fireworks start and I turn around to look at them like everyone.

I sense Katniss holding my hand and turning around. I want to look at Snow too, but the way she starts to squeeze my hand tells me all I need to know...

He doesn't believe them.

It didn't work.

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

I'm sitting in an armchair staring at nothing in particular. My mind can't help but think about whatever we can do to make their story more believable, but nothing, absolutely nothing comes up.

The riots in the districts surely won't make him happy, which means it will be worse for everyone else.

Fuck.

My head snaps back as I hear footsteps coming, I let out a sigh when I notice it's just Katniss.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she apologises.

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off, "can't sleep either?"

She shakes her head, I motion for her to sit with me.

"Do you think we ever had any chance?" She then asks me.

"I guess, the positive side of me really hoped... but the realistic side knew." I sigh, looking down at my own hands, "I'm afraid it was too late from the beginning. And I don't mean from what happen in 11... I mean from the moment you took out the berries, that made the districts feel something, these riots all over the place won't be pacify by a love story. Snow knows that."

"He asked me to convince him," she explains, "to convince him ours is true love."

"He never believed you." I directly say, "not for a second."

"Why ask me that then?"

"Control." I simply answer looking up at her with a serious expression. "Show you he has control."

"How did you end up living like this?" She asks, she seems genuinely interested, but I'm not ready to share that part of my life with her just yet.

I smile at her, a smile that doesn't reach my eye.

"Aw... Katniss, I thought you knew the difference between living" I turn serious again, looking her dead in the eyes," and surviving."

With that I stand up, grab a bottle of what I think is rum, and head to my room.

-----------

I stand by the doors waiting for Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch to get off the train. The thought of going back to normal is dreadful enough, going back alone is even worse, I don't want to think about it.

"Home sweet home," Haymitch declares as he nears.

"Don't be so eager to leave me," I joke, holding my hand out for him to shake, he takes and kiss the back of it.

"You know, it pains me deeply," he teases back and I chuckle.

"Take care of them, will you?" I ask quietly.

"You take care of yourself, will you?" He lets go of my hand and leans down to whisper into my ear, "and eyes open" He smiles one more time before getting of the train.

"You'll have to explain that to me properly one of these days," I tell him as I watch him go.

"Isn't his whole character just... cryptic?" I turn around seeing Peeta and Katniss.

"Or just constantly drunk." Katniss chimes in.

"He's cryptically drunk all the time," I smile, "so... you got everything?"

"Yeah, we're ready to get home." Peeta smile back at me.

"Good... Good." I let out a deep sigh, "it's been a pleasure assisting you two. I guess I'll see you at the next Hunger Games, mentors."

"Thank you for everything, Y/n." Peeta pulls me in for a quick hug before walking away.

"Bye," I wave then turn to Katniss, "you okay?"

"Yeah... I think so." She forces a small smile.

"I wish I could do more," I tell her honestly.

"Thanks,"

"Say hi to your family for me, alright?" I smile again and she nods.

Once Katniss is out of sight a Peacekeeper comes up to me.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Your presence has been requested back in the Capitol. We'll be leaving soon." He tells me.

"May I know who requested it?" I ask, tired. I already imagine who-

"President Snow."

Uh?

"Did he say why?"

The peacekeeper doesn't answer and walks away. I stand here dumbfounded, wondering what he might want from me.

Is it because of Katniss and Peeta?

Is it because of the riots in the districts?

Is it because of the Quartel Quell? Does he wants me to be more participant or?

Then a terrifying thought comes to mind...

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

"You asked for me, sir?" I stand in front of his desk as he write something down.

"It came to my attention a rumour's veen going around regarding you, miss L/n." He starts, still not looking directly at me, "a merry one."

"Sir?" I ask, my throat instantly dry.

"Cal Kingslay apparently wants to marry you," he finally puts down the pen and looks at me with, what might seem, a genuinely happy expression, "That's a wonderful news."

"Is it?" I don't know what he wants from me.

"Oh yes, the people can't help but be thrilled about. the idea. I, myself, think it's great news. After the contributions the Kingslays gave to the games in these last years, it will show, not only to the Capitol, but the districts as well, that you are an active part of this system." He explains, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. Challenge me to say no, to refuse.

I really want to, I want to scream at him and just run away. Being sold to all rich people in the Capitol is not the life I want, but being tied to him... permanently, it's more terrifying.

But I have no choice.

All I can do is swallow my pride and take a deep shaky breath.

"I... how... how will it happen, sir?" I ask.

"You two will get engaged once I announce the Third Quarter Quell and get properly married after the crowing of the Victor. He will ask, you will happily say yes." He explains, satisfied with my compliance, then he goes back at the papers in front of him, "That's all."

I don't need him to tell me twice, I immediately walk out of his office, ready to go home and just let everything out.

"Oh, before you go," Snow's voice freezes me on the spot, "Plutarch Heavensbee asked for your company, you will be escorted to his house immediately." He informs me.

I shakily nod and walk out of his office where two guards make way.

-----------

"Do you want some tea?" Plutarch motion for me to sit at a big wooden table, "perhaps something stronger?"

I nervously nod as I sit.

He walks away, I hear him talking to someone before walking back into the room I'm in with two drinks in hand. He offers one to me and sits by the opposite side of the table.

"I told the guards to come back in an hour, we should have enough time" he smiles and I nod again, still not sure of what to expect.

Suddenly the lights go off and the room falls into deep darkness. I can still make out his face due to the lights coming from outside.

"What...?" I ask.

"You can never feel safer," he tells me.

"What's going on, Mr Heavensbee?" I ask, anxiety growing at every passing second.

"Tell me, miss L/n," he starts, voice a little quieter than before, "what do you know about district 13?"

#the hunger games fic #the hunger games x reader #hunger games fic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair x y/n

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milkandhwaney · 28 days ago

Text

all my works can be found here

Divine Wine & Dine

happy topaz month!! In honour of wy and hj, i wanted to write a little fic based on the greek god theories going around about gh pt. 2's concept. enjoy ;)

Summary: hongjoong and wooyoung throw a party to celebrate their birthdays together. you certainly weren't the cake they were expecting to devour.

WC: 2.4k

Tags: smut, dionysus!wooyoung, adonis!hongjoong, nymph!reader, fem!reader, partying, drinking, threesome, some rough sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cum play, a bit of dirty talk, oral (m&f receiving)

Disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and in no way represents the members

“Hongjoong, help me with this, please,” Wooyoung sighed, struggling to lift up the marble dining table off the ground, “the guests will be here soon.”

Hongjoong nodded, moving from helping the garden nymphs hang up floral decor to grabbing the opposite end of the table. The two of them quickly maneuvered it towards the side of the room near the entrance of the kitchen, dropping it into place with a huff.

“I think that’s everything,” Hongjoong exhaled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Gods, they really need to stop making everything from marble. This shit is heavy.”

Wooyoung chuckled, patting his friend on the back. “We tell them this every year and they never listen.”

It wasn’t long before guests started arriving, including Wooyoung’s father, Zeus. He rarely showed up with a happy attitude for any occasion, so Wooyoung was preparing to hear some form of bullshit gibberish fall from his mouth during the party. Hongjoong, being the good friend that he was, had offered for them to have a joint party since their birthdays were so close together. His logic was that if it wasn’t just focused on Wooyoung, maybe his father would be less likely to cause a scene. Wooyoung warned him that it wouldn’t matter, especially since Hongjoong was a mortal, it’d probably make him subject to harsh comments directly from Zeus, too. And of course, Wooyoung would get some slap in the face for “daring” to become friends with a mortal. It was always “you need to focus on your godly duties” blah blah blah, and frankly, Wooyoung was sick of it. All of his so-called god “friends” were wishy-washy. There was always some sort of drama happening with them.

It was different with Hongjoong. He was calm and collected, staying out of other people’s business. He was very alluring to those who met him, and he’d been involved with many lovers through this attention. But, he was so kind and passionate; he never hung any of them out to dry. He was honest and open, and everyone left satisfied and cared for. That character reflected in all of his relationship dynamics, hence why he and Wooyoung’s friendship was solid. It was really important for Wooyoung, too, because it felt as though Hongjoong was making up for the relationship he wished he could have with his father. But he knew he never would, and he just had to live with the disappointment. Hongjoong was a healing presence for him.

“Ah, my son,” Zeus gleamed, making his way through the now apparent sea of people towards Wooyoung, “so good to see you.” He pulled him in for a hug, Wooyoung noticeably cringing under his touch.

“Hey, dad,” Wooyoung forced himself to smile as they parted from each other, “likewise.”

He nodded, then turned to Hongjoong standing beside his son, “and you must be the second guest of the party, I presume? What was your name again?”

“Hongjoong, sir,” Hongjoong swallowed, trying not to allow his distaste for his best friend's father to weigh on his presence.

“That’s right,” he smiled, “happiest birthday to you both,” then walked away.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung exhaled simultaneously, releasing all of the tension they were storing up from the encounter.

“Wow,” Wooyoung said, “I’m genuinely shocked he didn't insult either of us. Though, I’m a bit pissed he forgot your name again.”

Hongjoong chuckled, nudging his friend’s arm beside him. “Perhaps the gods are on our side tonight.”

“Perhaps.”

It didn’t take long for the music and guests to become louder, which only prompted Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s need to escape. It was too crowded, continuously resulting in the two of them getting bumped into every few seconds by wasted guests. Plus, they were beginning to feel overheated from their own consumption of alcohol, which did not mesh well with being overcrowded.

“Ugh,” Hongjoong gritted, “why did I listen to my parents' guest list? I don’t even know half of the people here.”

“You and me both,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “I may act all tough, but my father still has me right under his thumb.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong easily snuck out of the dining hall, which was the only positive outcome of having a lot of people in one area. Quietly, they shuffled through the mansion towards the greenhouse. As they approached the door, there was a sound of soft singing coming from the other side.

“I wonder who’s in here?” Wooyoung lifted his brows. “Everyone should be at the party right now.”

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who needed an escape,” Hongjoong added, lightly pushing the door open. Immediately upon entering, they noticed a figure in the corner, the one from which the singing was coming from.

There you were, hands gently holding the budding flowers of the rose bushes. They unfolded, their colours becoming more vibrant the more you sang.

“It’s Y/N,” Wooyoung whispered, identifying the silhouette.

You were a fairly new nymph in the mansion, only about two months into your job there. So far, it had been a lot of fun, and thankfully Wooyoung was always respectful. Hongjoong was too, whenever he’d come around to visit his dear friend. They were a breath of fresh air, not at all like the gods from your previous employments.

“Should we go somewhere else? I don’t want to disturb her-” Hongjoong cut himself off as he accidently bumped into one of the pots beside the entrance, causing a loud clunk.

You inhaled sharply, your singing coming to a halt. “Who’s there?” You demanded, turning around to face the entrance. Your face softened when you recognized it was only Wooyoung and Hongjoong. “Oh, hey, guys.”

To anyone outside of your friendship trio, you addressing them so casually would result in dirty looks and commanded apologies. But from the very beginning, they never wanted you to address them as authorities. Sure, they were a few years older than you, but they always viewed you as an equal. Wooyoung made it a point to make sure those in his home felt warm and welcome, unlike his father.

You emerged from the dark corner, approaching the two boys in the doorway. Wooyoung’s breath hitched in his throat when he caught sight of your dress. It was light blue, the sleeves flowing past your palms. It hugged your body perfectly. Wooyoung always thought you were attractive, but he had yet to see you all dolled up. He was whipped.

Hongjoong wasn’t any different. He stood there staring, mesmerised by your beauty. The way your turquoise curls touched just below your breasts. The way your eyes became pools of gold in the moonlight peaking through the transparent glass windows of the greenhouse.

You chuckled, noticing their attention. “Hello? Earth to Woojoong?”

Wooyoung cleared his throat, awkwardly darting his eyes away from you. “Sorry, you just…. Look really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you blushed, biting your lip slightly. “You look quite dapper, yourself.”

You peered up at him and Hongjoong, still feeling a bit tipsy from the party. Just like them, you always found them both to be attractive young men, but never thought about it much further. They have been such kind friends to you, and you were afraid of ruining that if you were to ever allow those attractions to be expressed. But seeing them dressed as they were, being as close as they were, off the clock and in the quiet, closed off space, and having a bit of liquid courage, you couldn’t help but allow your thoughts to run wild.

They must have sensed the energy shift too, because suddenly Wooyoung was only a millimeter away from your neck. He was leaning over to whisper into your ear.

“Pardon my manners, but I’d like to take this dress off of you, if you’re alright with that.”

You exhaled, shivers running through every inch of your body at his words. A small moan left your mouth, causing you to blush both out of arousal and embarrassment.

“What did you say to her?” Hongjoong giggled, noticing your reddened cheeks, “must have been very cheeky, huh?”

“Care to join?” You smirked, thanking the alcohol for giving you an extra boost of confidence.

Hongjoong was surprised for a moment, but quickly settled his features in an enticing hunger. He didn’t hear what Wooyoung said specifically, but it wasn’t hard for him to read the room. “I would like that very much.”

You took the two of them by the hands, gently leading them back to the corner you were found in earlier. There was a pile of bushes soft enough to lay in as well as a bottle, which one could only assume was liquor, beside them. You leaned over to pick it up and took a swig before holding it out to the two of them.

“It’s lotus liquor.”

Wooyoung and Hoongjoong quickly took the bottle from your hands, knowing very well the effects the concoction had on the consumer as an aphrodisiac. It would only enhance the pleasure.

“Seems like you were looking for something like this to happen, no?” Wooyoung smirked, “is that why you were drinking this all by yourself?”

They took their sips before placing it down in a spot further from where the three of you were standing so as to not knock it over when you got down to business.

Carefully, Wooyoung began tracing your collarbone as he stood behind you, while you began you gently feel up Hongjoong’s torso in front of you. You hummed under the touch, leaning your head slightly back against Wooyoung’s shoulder. Hongjoong placed his hands on your hips, bringing himself closer to you. He pressed his lips against yours hastily, his tongue quickly finding yours. You gripped at the hem of his shirt, biting down gently on his bottom lip as you continued to kiss one another. He groaned, tightening his grip on you in response. Wooyoung unzipped the back of your dress, feathering kisses along your spine. With his teeth, he unclipped your bra, and you pulled away from Hongjoong for a moment so you could allow your clothing to slip down off of you onto the floor.

“Gods,” Hongjoong hissed, taking in the sight of you, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

“As are you both, your heinesses.”

Quickly, Hongjoong knelt in front of you, looping the straps of your panties around his fingers to pull them off of you, revealing your growing arousal.

“I need to taste you,” he pleaded, glancing up at you from his knees desperately.

“Taste me, then.” You said.

Hongjoong didn’t waste another moment, his lips quickly meeting your sensitive nub. He flicked gently as he switched between circling it and spreading your slick further around your folds. You moaned, gripping his hair. Wooyoung bit down on your neck, harshly sucking at the skin to mark you, he wrapped one arm around your throat, the other your breasts. He played with your hardened nipples, sucking your neck harder every time you moaned.

“I-I’m going to come.” You stuttered, your legs becoming slightly weak. The mens’ grip on you kept you upright and steady.

“Come for me,” Hongjoong muttered against your core, “let me swallow your pleasure.”

With those last five words, you allowed yourself to come undone, your juices flowing into his mouth and down his chin. He moaned loudly as he drank you in, devouring your orgasm. He stood up, placing a kiss on your lips before removing his clothing. Wooyoung released you for a short time so he could do the same.

“What would you like to do, hmm?” Wooyoung sang, now standing in front of you. He lifted your chin to look up at him and smirked, then leaned in to kiss you. You melted into his lips immediately.

“I want your cock, Wooyoung,” you begged between kisses, “I want you to fuck me. Give me your best.”

And with that, he pushed you down on the bushes and threw your legs over his shoulders. He started gently, but once you had adjusted, he began pounding into you with no remorse.

“Fuck!” you screamed, gripping at his back, “fuck, fuck fuck!”

Hongjoong was now hovering about your head, his hardened cock begging for your touch. You took it within your hands and placed your mouth onto his tip. He sighed as you began to move your palm along his shaft, swirling your tongue around him in unison.

“Shit,” he breathed shakily, “don’t stop!”

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to roll back as you wriggled and mewled beneath the two men, the three of you completely ravishing one another. Wooyoung continued holding your hips cruelly as his cock filled up every inch of you. Cries fell from his lips as he watched you squirm below from his thrusts and taking in Hongjoong’s cock completely.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, nearly reaching his limit, “I’m going to come in this sweet pussy of yours.”

Wooyoung unravelled, bucking his hips into you ruthlessly as he released his orgasm, filling your pussy completely with his come. Hongjoong sputtered his hips as you continued to suck on his tip, swallowing his come as he reached his peak.

Wooyoung quickly replaced his cock with his fingers, pushing his cum back inside of you as he pressed against your g-spot. You exhaled as Hongjoong removed himself from your mouth, his come now entirely consumed by you. You gripped his thighs behind the back of your head to keep yourself steady as Wooyoung pushed you over the edge, coming for a second time. Wooyoung leaned down to drink up your arousal, licking up the rest on his fingers as he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes. You breathed heavily, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the soft bushes you were lying against.

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep. When you awoke in your bedroom, you found your dress was back on your body, and there was a bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

Dearest Y/N,

We had a lovely night and would love to see you again. -W & H

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #kpop smut #smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #ateez yeosang #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez yunho #ateez jongho

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 4 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, little finch.

Gif credits

Pairing: Jackson!Joel X AFAB!reader

Words count: 6731

Rating: +18 NSFW, Minors please don’t interact

Summary: Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day.

Warnings: POV second person, smut, little power dynamic, little brat taming, begging, unprotected P in V (please, always use protections in real life!), Reader's age is intentionally unspecified, you can imagine an age gap between her and Joel or not, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), nipples play, Joel comes on reader's tits, just a little of pulling hair, soft!Joel, grumpy!Joel, pet names (little finch, honey, baby, babe), mention of fasting as a sarcastic joke (I don’t condone joking about no one’s eating habits), reader has hair (It is not specified how long they are or what they look like), reader can be lifted by big and strong Joel, reader has a able body, breasts and vagina and she wears a dress, apart from that no other description is given, reader is part of the Jackson community, I don't know anything about Jackson, I only know a few details about second game’s plot (including that detail, yes) so everything I describe is purely from my imagination and may have no bearing on the original Jackson, brief appearances by Maria, Tommy, Ellie and Dina, drinking, swearing, Joel calls reader “little finch” (I came up with this nickname just because my grandpa used to call me with a bird name when I was little and I always found it sweet, so here we go ❤️), Joel can draw (I don't know if it's true but for me it is, okay, allow me). I hope I haven't forgotten anything but if I do I'll add it as soon as I notice.

English is not my first language so please be kind, I always try to do my best, no proofreading (sorry), very little editing, I apologize for any mistakes. I'm writing on my phone, I hope the formatting isn't too bad 🥲

Thank you so much to anyone who will read this, I really hope you’ll like it, kind comments and advices are really appreciated ❤️

I've been listening to Hozier's "Talk" heavily while writing this so here it is, I'll let you know. It's such a beautiful song and I love Hozier so much 🫠

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

You wake up struck by a ray of sunlight that enters faintly through the half-closed shutters and dies right on your face.

You have no idea what time it is and your head feels heavy and confused, you turn over in bed thinking that maybe you can give yourself another 5 minutes but then you hear voices outside already awake and ringing and then you think that maybe it's really late. You sit up and retrieve the clock from the bedside table, it's 7 in the morning.

You get up and go to the kitchen to make some coffee and from the window you see some people already busy doing their work. Some children head towards the building designated as school in Jackson, happily laughing while they chase each others.

You yawn and open the cabinet in the kitchen where you keep the coffee filters, a precious supply recovered during an exploration that you jealously preserve.

The coffee is also the result of a find and therefore it was carefully rationed with the other members of the community.

You are grateful that it exists because this morning you really need it, last night you slept badly, continuing to toss in your sleep and always dreaming of the same thing again and again. You being swallowed up by a hole in the ground and no hand reaching out to help you. Just a great dream.

The coffee maker burbles a few minutes later, releasing the drink you crave.

Temperatures are milder in this season so you no longer need to put on a heavy jacket and snow boots, there is a bit of fresh wind but nothing compared to the harsh winter that has just passed.

Today in particular you feel like dressing better than usual, you go back to your room and open the wardrobe, carefully inspecting the few clothes hanging there.

You obviously don't have much choice because they're all salvaged second-hand clothes, but Maria gave you a nice pair of denim shorts a month ago and they look very nice on you.

You take it out of the closet and place it on the bed along with a white tank top that highlights your boobs just right, it’s nothing particularly fancy but it makes you feel good, you head towards the shower humming softly.

The shower helps you wake up, you dress and you leave the house feeling a bit better.

You meet a couple of people who greet you as you make your way to the library.

You enter, smelling the familiar smell of books and immediately get to work cleaning and dusting the shelves and the floor, like every day.

The morning passes peacefully, only a couple of people come in to borrow books, so after doing your chores you took the opportunity to rearrange thriller’s books section.

You're a bit shocked by the fact that no one told you anything particular but you don't mind, these people have a lot to think about and a lot to do.

When you leave it's lunch time, so you head to the common room.

The crisp air caresses your face and the sun gives you a little warmth that you missed so much, you really love this season in Jackson.

You enter the room filled with chatter that echoes off the walls. You take your place in line and once you have had your portion you sit at one of the tables.

No one reaches you yet. You're alone in a room full of people.

You see him in a corner, sitting with Maria and Tommy and you get lost for a while observing the way he moves his large hands, how his hair rests at the base of his neck, his big brown eyes, so communicative, the way his flannel shirt - which has practically become a distinctive trait of Joel - hug his muscles, the way his lower lip slightly twitch while he’s talking.

You’re totally captivated.

You can't help it and you know it.

Every time he spoke to you, even for just a few minutes, your body reacted unequivocally at his deep low raspy voice, his proximity always caused you trouble.

You like this man, much more than you are willing to admit.

Joel Miller.

You're friends, you might say. As much as it is possible to be friends with a man like him.

He's friendly, but always with an undertone of detachment that you can't define, as if he's afraid of letting himself go with someone and let his feelings flow freely.

And just as you're thinking this, he turns and looks at you for a moment.

You are sitting, yet your knees feel weak and you feel your cheeks redden knowing you've been caught.

You turn your eyes back to your lunch, quickly finishing your meal and bringing your tray back. You leave the common room feeling in a bubble.

It's stupid that he makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush but it always happens, by now you're resigned to always making a fool of yourself with him.

You walk home to do your household chores and then go to the patch of garden you've been assigned to take care of.

You meet various people along the way but again everyone just say hello, you see Ellie with Dina and they both wave at you and nothing more. In the meantime, Maria has left the common room and the only thing she asks you is how the courgettes you planted a month ago are coming along.

It's strange, but you shrug your shoulders and think that deep down today is not such a relevant day for others even if you hoped it would be because you now consider these people as your new family.

You stop thinking about it and focus on the things you have to do but a tiny piece of your heart hurts a little, just a little.

What the hell is wrong with people today? Only a month ago they throw a big party for Tommy and now nothing, not even a hint.

Okay, Tommy is higher rank, he is married to Maria, everyone sees him as a guide just as they see his partner.

And he goes on patrols, certainly offering others a greater sense of security and protection, unlike you who deal with less dangerous things.

That's probably why, you're just a minion in Jackson's pecking order.

You let off some steam by plowing your field with more force than necessary, small drops of sweat slide down your forehead and you end up hot and with your arms aching from the effort.

Stupid girl, stop thinking about it, it's not that important to have a birthday, not in a post apocalyptic world where everyone is struggling to get ahead.

But still, they acknowledged every single special day of everyone’s here before, except yours and nothing particularly relevant is happening, it’s been a couple of quiet weeks.

You're wiping sweat from your forehead with one hand when you hear a voice behind you.

"What are you doing tonight?" It's his voice, you'd recognize his among a thousand.

You turn around stuttering “uh, what?”

And there he is, flannel shirt, curls slightly blowing in the wind, mouth curved in a smirk, dark piercing eyes.

Fuck.

“I asked…what are you doing tonight?”

You feel the nervousness rising in your chest, it's the first time he's spoken to you in a week and you weren't ready in the slightest.

“Uh…oh…nothing special, I guess, I think I'll read a book and go to sleep early”

you say trying to maintain a certain apparent nonchalance.

“You didn't mention dinner, are you going to fast?” Oh, great. Sarcastic jokes, classic Miller behavior.

“No, of course not,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles “okay, so, would you like to come to my house? I cook”

Fuck. Is that, a date?

You instantly feel your mouth dry as you try to reply “Well, it’s not like I have something better to do so yes, why not”

You don't want to make it obvious to this man how he makes you feel. There are worse things to worry about in this world, but letting yourself go with someone who always shows restraint only to be rejected - on your birthday, no less - doesn't seem as pleasant.

And that's how you usually communicate anyway, bickering.

Maria often laughs about it, you are both stubborn and neither of you ever wants to agree with the other.

One day she told you that she thinks you'll end up together and you practically laughed in her face. Not because you don't want to, but because you thought Joel didn't even see you that way.

Maybe Maria was right all along, who knows.

“Good, see you at 7”

And he goes.

You watch him walk away for a while, still with spade in your hands.

Suddenly this day became interesting.

You run into the house and take off your dirty clothes throwing them in the basket you keep in the bathroom and go to the shower.

While you're soaping yourself up you wonder what came into his mind.

As you rub your hair, you think that maybe he's making fun of you but Joel doesn't seem like the type to make a prank, he's always quite sarcastic but not a proper prankster.

It's part of his charm, he always looks grumpy but you know he's not bad, the way he looks at Ellie or his brother says everything about him.

He would do anything for the people he loves.

And he’s not mean, he was kind to you too.

You've spent more time looking at him, analyzing every chat you had with him than you like to admit, so yeah, you're pretty sure he's okay.

Once you get out of the shower you open the wardrobe and find yourself contemplating the usual clothes with which you have to make the best of things.

There is a cute dress that you have never worn because you have never found a particular occasion. It's quite short and low-cut, definitely not suited to Jackson's lifestyle, here everyone wears jeans and sweaters or t-shirts.

You think that maybe tonight is the time to dare even if you don't want him to burst out laughing and ask you what you've got in your head.

It's just a dinner.

He never mentioned anything romantic.

You're obviously nervous, because you like him and if it doesn't go well you should continue to see him every day anyway.

In the end you decide to wear the dress anyway but to tone it down with a cardigan and a pair of boots, so as to make it look less like "please fuck me" style.

You shake your head, how much trouble are you going to for Joel Miller.

However, you have to admit that it's the first really exciting thing that's happened to you since you've been here. You thought that surviving was enough so you obviously never complained about it.

You fix your hair after drying it, you look at yourself in the mirror and you think that you're not that bad after all.

It's almost time, you leave the house and walk the few meters that separate you from Joel's house with your heart beating wildly in your chest.

You climb the few steps to his porch feeling insecure and stupid for accepting, who knows what you expect from this lonely man.

You shrug and knock on the door, snuggling into your cardigan in the cool evening air.

You consider going back and pretending you had a mishap, but Joel opens the door.

“Hey, come in” he smiles at you. You cross the threshold timidly as a delicious scent invades your nostrils.

Who knew Joel Miller could cook?

You follow him into the kitchen and Joel pours you a glass of wine.

“Where did you find this?” you ask in surprise. Wine is a luxury that you haven't been able to afford many times in Jackson, usually the only thing they bring back after searches and patrols are bottles of cheap whiskey.

“I found it two km from here in an abandoned shop. It was stuck under a shelf, probably for years”

“Oh, great”

“Well they say that aged wines are better. Like men, don't you agree?” He smiles, winking at you.

He winked.

Fuck.

You try to hide your surprise by taking a long sip from your glass.

While Joel is busy checking on the stew you take a look around the living room.

It's a nice house, simply furnished like all the houses in Jackson, tidy and clean.

There are some sheets with drawings on the coffee table in front of the couch. You know Joel made them because you've seen him several times on his porch busy drawing animals. A squirrel, a deer, a small bird. He's really good at it.

And obviously his guitar, resting on a stand in a corner near the couch.

In a totally cheesy way you would love to hear him play something for you.

“So, do you like wine?”

You turn and see that he is a few steps away from you, glass in hand.

“Uhm, yeah, it’s good”

He gives you a smile “stew is almost ready”

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, don’t worry, you’re the guest”

You see him linger with his gaze on your legs and up to your breasts and you think that the dress wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He is wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans and is breathtaking.

You scan each other for a few seconds, without speaking. You are like two predators sniffing each other to see who will give in first.

“That dress looks good on you” he finally says and for the first time you notice that he is slightly embarrassed. He looks down at his glass and stares at it harder than necessary.

You still don't know why he invited you tonight but honestly at this point you don't even care. He's more handsome than ever, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and pulled back, that little scar on his cheek that you'd be eager to find out the story of, that smile he's giving you and his hands nervously gripping the glass, everything about him draws you in like a magnet.

"Thank you. You're not bad either." You giggle and you know that it’s definitely what you needed tonight. To feel attractive. To feel seen.

He comes back to the kitchen and after a few seconds he calls you “Dinner’s ready”

You sit at the table in the kitchen and he places a plate in front of you that smells of home, of memories and takes you back to when you were little and your mom cooked for you.

It's like Proust's madeleine.

Evoking sweet feelings with food is one of your favorite things to remember who you were, who you loved, and what was before this debacle.

It's melancholy but also comfort in a certain way, it's like holding on to the truest and most authentic part of you, the one that made you who you are today and probably allowed you to survive.

You take a bite as Joel looks at you in anticipation.

“Wow, this is good!” you exclaim “extremely good. Who knew that you were a chef”

“Ha! I’m really not, it’s just a stew and I’ve done it so many time that I can’t get it wrong at this point”

“It's still the best I've had in years, I need to get invited to dinner more often”

You chuckle and then you blush, because you've made it clear that you hope it's the first of many times.

Damn you.

You hadn't had a love interest in years, obviously, there wasn't time to think about that while the world burned and you had to fight to stay alive. But here, in this little bubble, where people have welcomed you and you have recovered crumbs of normality, it doesn't seem too stupid to feel something for Joel.

Is he grumpy? Sometimes. But he is also incredibly generous, to be honest. When you asked him, a formal contractor, to help you create the library he snorted, he told you that it wasn't necessary, that no one would ever go there anyway.

You shrugged and said that you would have done it anyway with or without his help, Maria had already given you permission.

The next morning you got up early to go and clean up the designated building and found him there, he was repairing a damaged window that wouldn't go up or down.

He grumbled when you asked him ironically what he was doing “someone has to stop you from opening a crumbling library”

You smiled, feeling your heart warm.

And so it was every day until the place was ready. Joel showed up early in the morning or in the evening, spent a few hours fixing the steps, eradicating moths, building shelves and cabinets, even a desk for you.

You've never talked in depth about your lives but you still know something you've heard through the grapevine. He's very secretive about his past so you never asked him any uncomfortable questions, the last thing you would want is for him to never share anything with you again.

The time he helped you with the library was the most enjoyable time you've had here so far and that's when you realized that your crush was more serious than expected.

“Do you want another glass of wine?”

“Why not, i don’t have to drive home”

He laughs “Yeah, no fines for you”

“At most a headache, but I'll think about that in the morning”

“Were you surprised when I invited you?”

he leaves you speechless for a moment and then you find, you don't know how, the strength to use irony, like you always do "I've known for a long time that you want me" you giggle and brush your hair away from your face while you say it.

"Oh yes? How strange, I actually thought it was the opposite” the smirk and the deep chuckle he gives to you goes straight to the most private part of you. Right there. It sits on your clit and you feel it tingling.

Fuck, this man.

You never experienced a flirty Joel Miller before and you were actually quite sure he wasn’t even capable of being so but he is.

“Oh shut up, finish eating” you scoff, feeling your cheeks turn on fire.

He lets go for a while and watches you amusedly fill your mouth with his stew.

“It's a pleasure to see you eat, little finch”

He started calling you that when you couldn't move the furniture in the library on your own. "I don't know how you thought you could manage on your own, little finch."

At first you hated it, now you pretend to hate it but you actually like it.

“Stop calling me that!” you still have to keep up a facade after all.

“Oh come on, finch is the cutest bird, don’t be offended”

“I’m no bird” you pout.

“Yep you are, finch. Delicate. Elegant. Pretty. You walk like you’re floating in the light air and your voice is a lovely chirping sound. It gets on my nerves sometimes, but I actually like it. A lot.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You can't believe he said that.

You feel your heart melt like snow under the sun, your lips involuntarily curl into a smile, your hands tremble with the desire to touching him and between your legs a lustful heat invades you all over.

His face is relaxed, his eyes sparkle mischievously and his smile…his smile pins you to the chair.

You raise your glass in an attempt to drink some courage while he doesn't stop looking at you silently.

Just enough time to bring your lips close to the glass and you find yourself coughing, you're too distracted and the wine goes sideways.

Obviously.

You can't help but look like a fool in front of him, you don't even know how he thinks you're elegant.

“Jesus, are you okay?” he asks in alarm as he reaches up to wrap his arm around your back and pat you lightly.

To your surprise, his large, calloused hands can be very gentle.

“Oh my god, yes, yes I’m okay” you reply between coughs "I'll get over it now"

Now that he knows that you will survive he sits back down to his chair and scrutinizes you with an amused expression.

“Did I go too hard on you?”

“What? No, not all” you reply red-faced, while trying to regain some composure.

“Okay, if you say so” he places a hand on yours gripping the table “Has it passed?”

“Yeah, I think it is” You pour a little water into the other glass he has set and drink, this time slowly.

Finally you feel your breathing return to regularity and your cough gradually subside.“Thank goodness, little finch, think if I should have taken you to the doctor in that lovely dress” and laughs.

You've never seen him laugh so much.

He is intelligible most of the time but tonight he is an open book.

“What's wrong with this dress, Miller?” you ask, ironically, you may be clumsy but not to this point and you want to try to get back at him.

"Nothing. You don't see many of them in Jackson, that's all."

“It doesn't look like anything special to me,” you say, as you realize he's staring insistently at your tits. “Do you see anything special, Miller?”

He shrugs “It’s pretty low cut for nothing”

You bend over slightly, resting your forearms on the table smiling at him, exposing your boobs even more. He is sitting in front of you and still watching at them.

“You're pretty good at it after all, little finch” his eyes have become darker and it's as if a small flame is burning inside them.

You feel a certain pride rising in your chest.

“Now you look like the embarrassed one, Miller, have you seen how things have changed?” Your smirk doesn't go unnoticed by Joel who squirms in his seat as if it has suddenly become uncomfortable.

"Can you tell me something? Why did you invite me tonight?” you’re pushing him, and you know it. And actually, you like it, for once you feel like you have the upper hand.

“Isn't it obvious, finch?” he mutter.

“Maybe, but I'd like to hear it from you. Use your words, Miller, I know you can."

“When you asked me to help you to arrange the library I thought you were crazy. Then I realized I was wrong. It was a nice idea. It was a great idea actually. No one here can go anywhere anymore, and in any case there is nowhere you can go so it is comforting to know that there is always a way to take refuge elsewhere, at least for a few hours, reading a great book. So yes, finch, I like you. I like you because you gave us back some beauty.”

“Fuck Miller, you can make speeches whenever you want”

“It's just one of the reasons I like you, you’re also smart and thoughtful and gorgeous but yeah, that’s it, I’ve said it”

His gaze is languid, you'd almost say longing. Maybe you managed to scratch a small piece of the invisible armor he built to protect himself.

One moment you were bickering as usual and the next Joel fucking Miller left you speechless.

No sarcasm, not an ounce of irony, he sounds sensitive and vulnerable.

It's so strange to see him in this light, the only other time it happened to you you were in the library, he found a children's book and held it in his hands looking at it in silence.

For a moment you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, he looked helpless and hurt and then it was the usual Joel, complaining about the mess and the weight of the boxes you had made him lift that gave nightmares to his back.

You get up from the chair without even realizing it, as if it were an involuntary movement that your body needs.

You stop in front of him, who is still sitting, his arms abandoned on the table, his gaze following you questioningly.

You put a hand in his hair and let it run through his dark curls while he instinctively closes his eyes, abandoning himself completely under your touch.

You would like to say something but you don't want to ruin the moment and in any case you can't find any words suitable to describe how you feel.

Moved, yearning, grateful, overwhelmed?

All these things together at the same time.

You let your hand linger on the base of his neck, stroking softly

“Look at me” you whisper.

And his gaze turns, his whole body turns, and you've never seen him so clearly. He rests his large hands on your hips and his gaze pierces you as he lands on yours.

You feel his grip tighten as you lean over him and leave a shy kiss on his lips. Small. Brief. And another, instinctively. And yet another.

And another until his lips part on yours and fit perfectly in a long sigh. He tastes like wine and loneliness and desire.

It’s manly but tender and demanding for more.

Your tongues meet and it's like an electric shock that surprises you but at the same time it's inevitable like when two surfaces rub together generating energy, it is an unwritten physical law that holds you together despite having used all your strength to keep each other at a distance for months.

Now, all you can do is give up.

You kiss him like it's the last thing you do in your life, his eager hands roam your hips, gripping your ass and squeezing tightly.

He part from your lips just the time to stand up and wrapping you entirely in his arms, his mouth searching for yours again, eager, his hands stroking your back while you feel just like a little finch in the most comfortable nest you could find.

“God, I want you” he mutter in your ear nuzzling at your sensitive skin.

“Take me. Just… take me, Joel”

It’s a dreadful need that you feel deep in your bone, the last shred of love you could find in this broken world, a sweet feeling of release that you desperately wanted.

You can’t think straight and don’t want to.

He take off your cardigan and reaches for the hem of your dress and lifts it up roaming your thighs feverishly, squeezing and stroking, his fingers digging into your flesh as you moan softly into his ear. He pulls it up to your waist and you help slide it off your head.

He bends down to take off your boots and throws them on the floor in an unspecified place, then he gets up and takes you back in his arms. He's still dressed while you're almost naked and exposed in a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra. You might be intimidated but you're not. You let yourself be held and explored by his hands. His calloused fingers, rough but gentle, touch you everywhere, giving you goosebumps. He lifts a hand to one of your breast and squeezes it through the fabric.

You can't help but let out a muffled moan while he is filling his hand with your flesh.

“Do you like it, finch? Me squeezing your boob?” he says in a whisper, looking into your eyes.

“Y-yes” you mumble “give me more”

There's a smug, lecherous smile painted on his face as he reaches for your bra and unclasps it with a single gesture.

He slides it off and drops it on the kitchen floor. Your nipples stiffen in an instant, hit by the air, he takes one between his fingers and pinches it, pulling it gently and then his mouth is on it swirling his tongue and sucking it. You squirm at the sensation, digging your hand into his hair again, pushing his face into your breast “more, more” you stammer. You feel his smile spread across your skin and his teeth bite lightly into you.

“You’re ravenous, aren’t you?”

You pull his hair and tilt his face slightly to regain eye contact. “Do you mind?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Good, you can continue doing what you were doing” you smile defiantly. You like to provoke him, especially now.

“You're bossy for a little finch, I like that”

he smiles back, his eyes shining bright with thrill and anticipation.

He returns to greedily licking and sucking like a thirsty man on your nipples, another loud moan escape from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good”

“I just started with you, you have no idea what awaits you” he whispers.

“Mmm then less talking, Miller, show me”

Without having to be told twice, he picks you up, much to your surprise, and places you on his couch in the living room.

“Woah, Miller, easy”

“You told me not to waste time talking” he shrugs. chuckling.

He pulls you to the edge of the couch “spread your legs”

You open your legs a little but he is visibly not satisfied, he takes your knees and opens them more "Like this. Now stay still” he orders.

He kneels between your thighs and pulls your panties aside.

You feel his fingers trail up your thigh, slowly, taking the time to slide lightly over your skin, causing you a mixture of tickling and excitement.

You writhe when you feel his index finger grazing your pussy lips, wandering up and down caressing for a little bit before sliding it between them and wetting it completely in your juices.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”

You can literally feel your cunt dripping when he keeps going up and down, briefly sinking into your hole with the tip of his finger and then on your clit, moving in circle with two fingers over your bundle of nerves.

You’re whining again, you’re growing impatient and he perfectly knows that

“Joel…”

“Yes, Finch?”

“You're doing it again”

“What”

“You know what. Do you want to torture me?”

"No. I just want you to beg me."

“God, you’re impossible” you roll your eyes out of exhaustion and arousal.

He stops completely.

“So are you, babe. Can you please let me do what I know best?”

He presses on your clit with two fingers and you squirm.

“Fuck. Okay”

He starts teasing your clit again, moving his fingers up and down to gather your wetness and spread it all over your lips.

“The thing is, finch, your pussy is so good. Look at her, I can’t rush it. She deserves to be loved nicely and slowly”

He is sitting on his heels just taking his time with you and you can’t be more eager to have him in your hole but you breath, resigned to wait for his pace.

He teases your entrance again, this time with two fingers, pushing in a little deeper.

His thumb is still taking care of your clit, moving a little faster than before.

“Eyes on me, babe”

And you do, you lock your eyes with his and you see hunger and lust and wonder.

He’s admiring you and you feel flattered.

He brings his face closer and sticks his tongue out, licking you from bottom to top and then again, letting it slide between your lips.

His beard is scratching you, his tongue stops on your clit swirling around it, jerking it slowly, again and again until you see him closing his lips on it and sucking gently.

He’s devouring you at this point and you mewl and cry and scream for more.

“Jesus - fuck - oh my goodness”

Your fingers are entwined into his curls and you’re pushing his face against you as much as you can, his tongue is fucking your hole now, he delves into you and lick all he can and you start to feel an incredible warmth rising from your core, in your tummy, to your chest.

He finally lets his index and middle finger sliding into you, pumping slowly in and out of your dripping wet cunt.

“Joel, oh my God I - ha! - I can’t, oh God”

“Yes, you can. Just like that, baby, give it to me” he whispers softly against your skin.

You’re on the verge of coming, the most incredible orgasm is knocking at your senses, overwhelming and brutally crushing into you.

“I’m com - oh GOD - yes,Joel, fuck”

He praises you again “come for me, soak my fingers, come on”

And you do. You gush all over his fingers like it was the last thing you do in the world, your legs shake and your heart reach an impossible pace that leaves you breathless.

He keeps licking and pumping into you until you calm and you can’t take your eyes off him bowed between your thighs, he drives you wild.

He stands up grunting at his poor knees and you giggle, he raises an eyebrow at you

“I wouldn't laugh considering the fact that I just made you scream my name”

He sits down on the couch next to you, circling your waist with his big strong arm and pushing you against him.

You bury your face in his chest “Aw, you’re so touchy, Miller” and you giggle again.

“You’re such a little brat.” He says, stroking your hair “But see? I wasn’t lying. It's been many years since I last did this but I still know what to do”

You raise your eyes at him “yeah, I give you that. You’re fucking good” and you place a kiss on the hairless part of his beard “but I-”

“What?” he interrupts you, looking at you maliciously

You bite your lower lip, feeling hot again just for the way he’s holding you tightly watching you with lust in his eyes.

“I want your cock”

“Oh. It’s time to beg, baby”

“Joel…”

“Beg for it, little finch” he’s smiling but his voice is firm and slightly authoritative

“I never beg” you scoff

“You will start now, sweetie, if you want to see me naked”

You look at him with exasperation, rolling your eyes immediately after “okay, Jesus. Can you please give me your cock?”

“Manners, babe. Ask gently”

You ask yourself what have you done wrong to fall for such an unbearable man “Good Lord”

“Beg with conviction”

“Joel Miller, could you do me the courtesy of fucking me? Please?”

You’re smirking hard. You definitely love to get on his nerves.

“You’re getting into trouble with this attitude, you know that?” He reaches one of your nipples and pinches it hard making you whimper into his arms.

You turn serious, looking him in the eyes intensely, licking your lip before saying “Fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Mmm yes, just like that baby, it didn't take much”

He finally stands up in front of you. He takes off his shirt, revealing a strong, broad chest.

You can see a thin strip of hair disappearing under his jeans but apart from that he is almost hairless, his skin is delightfully dotted with freckles that make your mouth water.

He throws off his shirt and bends over to remove his boots.

Your eyes linger on his back, on his tense, rippling muscles, you can't believe how gorgeous he is, after all you think it was worth begging for this but you will never tell him.

He unzips his jeans and takes them off, remaining in his boxers. The sight of his deliciously soft tummy drives you completely insane. You’re craving him like you never did with anyone before.

“Kneel on the couch for me, baby” he orders and you immediately do, you turn your head just in time to see him taking off his boxers, freeing his already hard and swollen cock. Your knees sink into the pillows and your hands rest on the armrest, you are completely exposed to his will.

He gets behind you on his knees, gripping your hips and pulling you towards him.

“Fuck me Joel, please, fuck me now” you cry

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock like that. You learn quickly, little finch”

You only feel the tip poking at your entrance, he slides his cock against your dripping folds “Beg once more, babe”

You writhe, it’s more than you can take right now, you want him desperately.

“Please, Joel. Please” your voice sounds distraught but you don’t care, not now.

He enters you with a single thrust that makes you scream “Fuck!”

He’s big, so big that his cock burns in your center.

“I told you you were getting into trouble, baby, if you wanted me to be gentle you should have behaved better”

It's a small punishment you can bear, after a few seconds you already got used to his intrusion, you never felt so full before and right now you couldn’t ask for anything better.

He begins to move slowly, in and out of you, sinking deeper each time and reaching that spot that makes you see stars.

His loud grunts numb your head, his fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts into you, maybe he will leave some marks and the thought excite you even more.

“Oh God, please don’t stop, please”

He’s pounding into you incessantly, every thrust more deep leaving you short breath, you’re so wet that every lewd sounds coming from your cunt is making you feel like you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like that, babe, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, so perfect for me”

You whine even more at his praises, feeling your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

“Joel please I’m-”

“I know baby, I know, I can feel you, squeezing my cock just right, God you’re taking me so good”

You basically spasm on his cock right now, legs trembling as your sink your fingers in the fabric of the couch desperately trying to hold your posture.

He holds you tightly by your hips, grunting with each thrust into you, hitting your cervix again and again.

“Come for me baby, come all over my cock”

You’re quivering so hard that you almost think of being on the verge of losing your mind.

You cry his name feeling so full and dazed while your orgasm explodes inside you.

He pumps into you until you calm down but he’s still throbbing against your walls “Where do you want me?”

“On my tits - please”

He comes out of you and you lie down on his couch, his throbbing cock is in front of you, he takes it in his hand, milking it a couple of time before releasing his cum all over you. He moans loudly as he paints your tits and chest with his pleasure.

He lies down on top of you, groaning “God, this was amazing”

You feel his sticky seed spreading on your skin but you don't care, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly.

He moves to the side so as not to weigh you down and takes you in his arms again.

You hide your face for a moment in the crook of his neck, inhaling his woody, citrusy perfume, with a hint of the natural sweaty scent of his skin. He smells amazingly.

“I could get used to it” you giggle

“Me too, little finch” and he leaves a kiss on your hair.

“Oh, you made completely forgot about it, do you know what day it is today?”

“No, should I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s my birthday.”

His eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yep”

“Well then happy birthday. Did you like your present?”

“It’s the best I’ve ever received”

You kiss him again, knowing how true it is.

“We should take a shower,” he laughs.

“Yeah, you’re… well…all over me…but to be honest, I like it.”

He smiles widely “Come on little finch, I might have another gift for you in the bathroom”

“Oh, then I can’t wait to unwrap it”

#pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #one shot #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #soft joel miller #grumpy joel miller

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