#a momentous occasion thank you for thinking of me

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: One Shot

Series Masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: I missed them, so here you go ❤ one million bajillion thanks to @bageldaddy for looking this over and for typing the words "do a crux check, I think it's here like five times". She was right, as she often is 😌

--

The brothers ride in silence, snow crunching under the hooves of their horses. Everything covered in a fresh blanket of white, they leave fresh tracks behind them as they make their way towards the gates. 

“You gonna tell me what your problem is?”

Joel glowers, his grip tightening on the reins. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy smirks, a white cloud of heat puffing from his nose. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing. He shifts in the saddle, his thighs squeezing to spur his horse on faster.

It’s fuckin’ cold, and his knees ache. 

“I think you scared ‘em,” Tommy says, flicking his chin towards the two riders behind them. The boys – new to patrol – give them ample space, their skinny frames swathed in coats in their seat in the saddle. “Just about tore their heads off every time they made a mistake.”

“They shouldn’t be makin’ em,” Joel replies easy. 

Tommy laughs. “Like you never made a mistake in your life.”

Joel shakes his head, squinting at the brightness of the fresh snow. Each night has brought a fresh few inches, and he wonders if the kids have been outside in it. He pictures them making snow men, building forts. The snowball fight they had last week with the neighbor kids comes to mind, and a warmth fills up inside of him. Snow wasn’t a thing for him when he was growing up – not in Texas – and he’s glad they get to experience it. 

Even if it’s cold as shit. 

He pictures the front window of the house, the warm glow it would cast across the snow as darkness falls. You in the kitchen, maybe, and the constant movement of the kids. The image invites him even from beyond the gates, and sighs. 

Tommy continues to poke, in the way that only little brothers can. 

“Oh, I get it. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Joel frowns. “Since what?”

“Since you got some alone time. With your wife.”

Tommy’s eyes are bright with teasing, and Joel would normally rise to the occasion – but he doesn’t have it in him. Instead he gives his little brother a sidelong glance. 

Tommy chuckles. “I knew it.” 

“Hard with all the kids in the house all the time,” Joel grumbles. “Always underfoot, never giving us a moment’s peace.”

“Seems like every time you get a moment’s peace, you end up with another kid, brother. Maybe it’s a good thing.”

Joel shakes his head again, the edge of his mouth lifting for the first time in days. 

“It does, doesn’t it,” he says, and Tommy laughs. 

“Let me take those little monsters for you,” he offers. “Maria’s been wanting to see them anyhow, and then maybe you won’t walk around anymore lookin’ like you wanna fight anyone who steps in your path.”

Joel scoffs, though he doesn’t argue. 

The gates of the settlement come into view, the guard towers built along the top capped with mounds of snow. He pictures the bustle of people that will appear when the gates open – the mess hall, the stables, the familiar facade of the town he’s come to recognize as home. And somewhere, in all that, you.

His mind strays to the image of your face: your beautiful, soft smile, the warmth of your body that he’s missed at night. Weighted heat builds low in his hips, and he begins to thicken underneath his fly. 

“Goddamnit,” he mutters. 

It really has been too fucking long. 

“Tonight,” he says to Tommy, giving him a look. “Can you take ‘em tonight?”

Tommy grins.

–

Joel needs to see the little monsters first. 

He needs to listen to June’s endless chatter as she curls up next to him on the couch, wants to see Hank play with his trucks on the carpet, needs the weight of Dolly sleeping body on his chest. His lips brush her downy curls, and he relaxes into the cushions of the couch, surrounded by his children. 

“Yea, darlin’” to June, and “tell me more, bud” to Hank and murmurs of “hey, sleepy girl” to Dolly. 

His head tips back against the couch, his eyes closing for a second. 

“You gonna make it, old man?” you tease, tucking a sleeper into the backpack in front of you. A teddy next, a blanket following it. 

He turns his head to look at you, and his eyes slip down your body and back up again. He’s been half hard since the second he pressed a fleeting kiss to your mouth in greeting when he walked in the door.

“I’ll show you old man once these kids leave.”

Your movement halts for a split second, and the corner of his lips tip up as you start to pack faster.

–

You’re still tidying the kitchen when he gets back from Tommy’s. 

“I thought I would have more time,” you frown, scooping up the dinner plates to set them in the sink. He stands at your back, his hands curling around your hips to pull you close. His mouth brushes along the column of your neck, his beard tickling your skin. “I wanted to be upstairs, waiting for you. Assuming you’re still up for–”

He turns you, cutting off your sentence with the press of his mouth. 

It’s been so fucking long. So long since you’ve really kissed him, too long since you felt his strong grip, too long since you’ve done anything more than a peck here and there between the daily chaos of life. Patrol, the green house, your duties around town, the kids – too many nights have gone by with you falling asleep on the couch while he picks away at his guitar, or collapsing into bed together the second the kids turn in. 

You’ve missed him, and you can tell by the way he kisses you, he’s missed you as well. 

His deep kiss lingers until he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Dance with me, honey.”

A smile curls at the edge of your lips. “There isn’t any music.” 

“Never stopped you before,” he replies, kissing the corner of your mouth, guiding your arms to wrap around his neck. 

Every time he mentions your time at the cabin, a sweet ache blooms in your chest. A time when it was just the two of you, nothing to exist on but the sustenance found in each other. A private, tender time, full of intimacy and closeness, of quiet peace in a world filled with anything but. It’s not like you miss it compared to the safety of Jackson, but…sometimes you do. 

You’re reminded of it in the mornings, with his warmth curled along your spine, his nose tucked into the nape of your neck. 

You’re reminded of it when you work alone in the garden, the kids down for their naps. 

And you’re reminded of it now, as he turns the two of you slowly in a room with no music. 

Drawing him in, you bring his mouth to yours. You lean into his sturdiness and breathe him in, your fingers slipping into the curls at the nape of his neck, and he sighs, melting under your touch. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss and his hands cup your cheeks, his fingertips brushing against the curve of your jaw. Shuffling his feet forward, he guides you towards the counter until the edge of it presses into the small of your back. His mouth moves with more intent, and the toe of his boot nudges your feet apart, making room for himself between your thighs. 

“Upstairs?” you mumble against his full mouth, and he shakes his head. 

“Right here.”

The husk in his voice makes your eyes flutter shut, an instant liquid heat pooling in the cradle of your hips. It intensifies when his hand takes your own and he slides it down his torso, your fingers brushing over his belt buckle. Lower still, and he wraps your fingers around the heft of his cock, clearly outlined through his jeans. 

His hips buck forward into your touch, and a soft moan breaks free of your throat. 

“You really did need it bad, huh?” you tease, a breathless thing dripping with your own want. 

“So bad, honey. So bad.”

His fingers work the button of your pants open, and you start doing the same to his belt buckle until he swats your hands away, and starts tugging at your pants and underwear. Kneeling, he drags them over the curve of your ass and down your legs, his mouth laving hot kisses along the front of your thighs as he helps you step out of the fabric. 

“Joel, your knees. Baby, get off the floor.”

He pays you no mind, his hands forcing you up onto the counter. Spreading your thighs, he shifts closer until his mouth hovers right over where you need him the most: your gleaming, soaked center. 

“Fuck my knees,’ he groans, leaning in for a kiss. 

Your head tips back against the cabinet with a small thud, your fingers pushing through his hair. You flex your hold, the strands silky underneath the palm of your hand, and he lets out a muffled groan into your center, smearing his tongue flat up the center. He slides it over the pearl of your clit, circling the bud a few times as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs. He laps at your clit, taps it with the tip of his tongue, slides his tongue around and then over it, over it, over it and when you start to rock your hips against his mouth, he latches onto it with a gentle suck. 

“Oh God,” you breathe, your hooded gaze fixed on the crown of his dark curls. His brow furrows in concentration and pleasure, his whiskers catching the delicate skin on your inner thighs and when he presses himself even closer to bury the bottom half of his face, you arch your hips up to meet him. His hand slides up your side in a weighty drag and palms your breast in a full handed hold, giving it a squeeze as he sucks harder. Focusing on the pebbled peak he feels underneath your shirt, his thumb drags over the bud and you feel it between your legs, in time with the steady licks of his tongue. 

Your thighs start to tremble against his cheeks, and his hand curls around the bottom of your knee, pushing your leg up to rest your heel on the counter. The position spreads you wide open for him, something he takes advantage of to slip two thick fingers into your soaked core. They fit in snug to the knuckle; your other leg crooked over his shoulder with a tense hold as he starts to stroke a spot deep inside. His full touch tucks tight against your walls, the pressure paired with the wet glide of his tongue tips you over the edge of your release, your moan joining the sound of his. 

His knees crack when he stands, and his lips slide against yours. His mustache and chin are damp with you, your taste in his kiss and you deepen it, winding your legs around the back of his thighs to pull him closer. He palms your bare ass, grinding his denim covered crotch against your slick curls. His movements get faster, more desperate, and then he pulls back, his gaze dropping down to watch as you roll your hips into his. 

“If you don’t stop, honey, I’m gonna fuck you right here on this counter.”

His words are a low threat, that rumbles from his chest, his eyes never leaving the crux of your thighs. 

“Do it.” 

Your own gaze is fixed on the bulge behind his fly; your cunt an empty, needy thing. You know just how well he fits, just how good it feels when he slides inside. Snug and thick and filling and your eyes close, a frown pulling at your delicate features. 

“Please.”

“If I start here, I won’t be able to stop. I wanna lay you out.” He leans forward, crowding you against the cabinets. “I wanna fuck you too hard for this counter top. I want you too much.”

The words make your stomach drop with need, and you grab his face to pull him in for a frantic, consuming kiss before pushing him back so you can slide off the counter. You can feel him right on your heels as you race up the stairs, a laugh bursting from you when he slaps your ass on the way up. He rushes you through the bedroom door, his hands already grabbing at your remaining clothes. 

“Come on, mama. Take that shirt off for me.”

“You first,” you reply, tugging at his blue button down. The snaps pop open in a straight line down his chest, and he tugs it off, flinging it onto the floor. You strip with him: first your top, then your bra. Sliding onto the bed naked, you watch him peel his jeans down his legs. His briefs go next, and your thighs part to make room for him as he crawls on the bed to join you. 

Your bodies are a tangle of limbs lying sideways across the bed, his mouth presses against yours the same time his hand dives down to line himself up. The crown of his cock slips right in, and his hips drive forward, forcing you open around him. 

“Joel,” you moan, your eyes closing tight. 

In the cabin, sunlight pouring through the window across your writhing body, his shoulders between your thighs and his face buried at the crux. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good. So good,” he breathes, rocking his hips against yours. 

In the woods, the bark of a tree rhythmically scraping against your back, the hot pant of his breath across your skin. 

His low groans blend with your softer, higher pitch ones as your fingers dig into the meat of his ass to force him deeper. 

Clothing scattered on the bank; shadows scattered across the rounds of your bare shoulders as you ride him, taking him inside you again, and again. 

Heady need blooms behind your belly button, your toes curling as your heels dig into the back of his thighs, and every rock of his hips against yours is a filling stroke, a smooth slide forward and back. Whole is what you feel – pressed underneath the weight of his body, the heat of his skin flush with yours, his cock filling every last open inch that belongs to him. 

Threading your fingers through the gray at his temple, the open, pleading expression on your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

“You gonna come again, honey?”

You nod frantically, the roll of your hips picking up pace. Your nipples tighten against his chest, the hair there scraping each sensitive peak. He braces himself above you, his fists curling into the bedding as he fucks you harder, deeper. 

A shudder slips through his solid frame as he watches you come underneath him, and his hips stutter, a deep, reluctant groan rumbling from his chest as he pulls out. Sitting back on his heels, his fist works his cock with an audible, slick pump. 

“Where do you want it this time?”

It’s a question he asks now. Jackson has birth control methods, but with scarce supplies, they aren’t something you can always get your hands on. Condoms are more readily available, but you hate the thought of a barrier between the two of you. 

Instead, you push your breasts together in a silent invitation, and shift closer to him, positioning his cock right above your chest. The view of his broad chest and strong shoulders has you biting your lip, his arm flexing as he pumps his thick cock filling your vision and your thighs squeeze shut, even though you are more than satisfied. 

“Play with ‘em, honey,” he begs, his deep voice straining. 

You do, and with one of his hands wrapped around his cock and the other gripped white around the top of the headboard, he comes in spurts across your chest. You keep playing, smearing the milky pools across the tops of your breasts, circling the tight buds of your nipples until they are glistening peaks as he works every last drop out of his cock, and sated, his frame finally relaxes. 

“Jesus,” he sighs, dropping down on the bed to lay next to you. 

You roll onto your side, your skin damp with his release. His pulse is a steady drum underneath his skin, his cheeks are flush with heat, and the gray along the curve of his jaw stands out even more in the dim lighting of the bedroom. He’s older now, the physical signs more visible. Lines that surround his eyes, more gray threaded throughout his hair — but his hunger is the same. Still the same needy, firm grip love that you’re used to; his calloused hands sliding over your skin. Your gaze slips down his strong profile, lingering on his parted lips and you shift closer to him, tucking yourself closer.

He cracks an eye open to look at you, a dimple appearing in his cheek when he grins. Rolling onto his side, he faces you, slinging the weight of his arm over your waist. 

Your fingers brush along his collarbone, and for the first time in days, you feel yourself fully relax. 

You know patrol is part of the many pieces keeping this community together, but you’ll never get used to being separated, not fully. You’re half of a whole when he’s gone; half of your heart venturing out into the dangerous world. You’re tense from the second he heads out to the stables until the moment you see him through the front door. 

With him finally home, you breathe him in, curling closer. Right where you belong. 

His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, and you smile. 

“You’re so beautiful, honey.” His nose skims along yours, his lips brushing over your cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. It’s hard to sleep without you here.”

The kiss he gives you is slower this time, more lush. His mouth molds against yours, savoring your familiar taste and you swallow his soft groan down, holding him close. He starts to fade, his kisses slowing into lingering, soft presses. 

Rain sliding against the window, flashes of lightning illuminating his profile. 

His mouth stops, his eyes fluttering shut. He sleeps the way you never saw him sleep on the trail, the way he was never afforded before the cabin either. The way he probably couldn’t while on patrol, either. 

A book resting open and face down on his chest, his breathing steady and deep. 

A bone-deep sleep, sated and safe. 

Still, when your thumb skates across his full bottom lip, his mouth purses – an unconscious kiss, even from the depths of his slumber. His hand flexes, smoothing over your skin. 

Reaching for the light, you click it off, and pull the quilt over the two of you. 

Another worn quilt, another bedroom. 

Tucking your face into the space between his chin and chest, you close your eyes.

[jknox11]

jeremy knox gets grumpy when he's sick.

the first time jean sees it he is kind of amused. instead of getting up early as he usually does, jeremy doesn't get out of bed until cat and laila storm the bedroom he shares with jean saying breakfast has been done for over an hour.

jean stands by the door, an eyebrow raising as he sees jeremy put the covers over his head to avoid dealing with his friends. something jean has never seen him do before, something that is so not like jeremy.

"come on, jeremy. it's saturday. we already didn't do anything last night, you're not going to waste today."

cat insists while trying to pull the covers off jeremy who with a weak sigh ends up giving up and just letting her do it. the moment both laila and cat see his face they realize what's happening.

"what the hell, jeremy! what have i told you about hiding in the room while dying sick instead of literally asking for help?"

"don't be dramatic. i'm just tired." jeremy unconvincingly tries to calm his friend who already had her hand on his forehead.

"bullshit. you literally have a fever right now. sit up, laila is gonna bring something for you to eat before taking some medicine."

"not hungry. just want to sleep." jeremy whined once again trying to put the covers over his head.

"don't make me get jean to get you out of this bed."

"leave me out of this." jean warned still standing by the door and the moment jeremy heard his voice he felt himself more alert.

the last person jeremy wanted to see him weak, pale and sick was jean. he closed his eyes, defeated. and started sitting up knowing cat wouldn't leave that room until he did exactly as he was told. he awkwardly ran his fingers through his messy hair knowing it'd be useless.

"satisfied?" jeremy crossed his arm grumpily like a child and jean strongly held back the sudden urge he had to laugh- something he seemed to be wanting to do more ever since moving out with cat and laila- at the scene.

laila then re-entered the room carrying a plate of toast with eggs and a cup of the orange juice they had in the fridge especially for occasions like these.

"lighten up, princess. i know you love being babied by us."

laila handed him the plate and put the juice on the bedside table. jeremy who still had his arms crossed against his chest pouted a little.

"not like this! i hate being sick!"

and he did. jeremy didn't get sick as often but when he did, oh boy. it was hell. it'd usually take him at least three days to fully recover everytime and he hated how useless he felt between that time which resulted in a very grumpy, very whiny captain sunshine.

"poor thing. i know it sucks, but you'll feel a little better once you eat and take the meds." laila caressed his hair getting a content little sigh from him this time.

"thank you, guys." he then remembered jean standing by the door and immediately felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment.

"good morning, jean!" jeremy offered him a little smile.

"eat your eggs."

"he learns fast." cat joked and jeremy groaned.

"great. just what i need, three nurses wannabe"

"we can just let jean do the work if that's what you want."

laila winked at him and jeremy almost choked on the eggs he had just put in his mouth.

"alright, alright. we'll let you eat your food and then check on you again later. don't forget to take the meds for the fever after eating."

the girls left the room, but jean stayed where he was.

"jean? are you really gonna stand there and watch me eat?" jeremy joked a bit embarrassed still.

"i do not think you should be alone while sick."

"i'm okay, jean. really."

jean seemed to ponder for a few seconds before leaving. jeremy barely had time to finish chewing a piece of toast before jean was back already.

"to make you company."

jeremy thought his cheeks were gonna crack with the way his smile was so big on his face. in front of him there was nothing less than a six foot french man holding a cardboard dog cutout to put by his bedside.

"jean! you're amazing. thank you!" jeremy said cheerfully, his smile still bright and big on his face. "you... you can stay too if you'd like. i mean-" jeremy's face heated as he struggled with his own words.

"after im done preparing lunch with cat and laila."

jeremy smiled again.

"i will be here. we will." jeremy brought barkbark closer to him and jean rolled his eyes, but the small smile wanting to appear on his face before he left the room didn't go unnoticed by jeremy.

[sexypantsriorson]

VIOLET IS SCARED OF THE DARK! BUT WHY? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

🚨 Spoilers for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame Below 🚨

When reading Fourth Wing one of the many times I've read it I noticed that Violet seemed scared of the dark on several occasions. However, the newest Xaden POV bonus chapter (Ch 27) solidified my crack theory that may mean nothing at all even further.

Fourth Wing:

⚡️Chapter 1: "The Captain nods and points to the open door into the turret. It looks ominously dark in there, and I fight the urge to run like hell."

-> This is the weakest evidence but I wanted to include it. Even though the majority of the fear probably stems from having to cross the parapet and going into the riders quadrant I can't help but notice how the darkness of the turret is pointed out in relation to her wanting to run away.

⚡️Chapter 19: "'Hope you're not afraid of the dark.' He pulls me inside, and suffocating darkness envelopes us as the door closes. This is fine. This is absolutely fine. 'But just incase you are,' Xaden says, his voice at full volume as he snaps. A mage light hovers above our head, Illuminating our surroundings. 'Thanks'"

-> side note: as Nicole from FFG would say ITALICS! Is this a Xaden intinsic moment or is this similar to Ch 27 where he senses her fear down their bond?

⚡️Chapter 27 from Violet's POV: "Xaden lifts a hand a few inches above the table, and shadows pour from underneath our seats, filling the room and turning it dark as midnight in a blink. My heart jumps as my sight goes black."

⚡️Chapter 27 from Xaden's POV: "I lift my palms just enough to clear the table and summon the cooling darkness of the shadows. They stream out from under the table and blanket the room in less than a heartbeat, devouring all traces of light. Panic skitters down the silver bond."

Iron Flame:

⚡️Chapter 36: "He steps forward, raises his arms, and shadows rush in from the wall at our backs, engulfing the formation - and us - in complete darkness. Theres a glimmer of a caress across my cheek, right where it's split to what feels like the bone, and more than one cadet screams."

-> The structure of the first sentence, the emphasis on 'and us' is what clued me into the fear in this chapter. And once again Xaden, who is also the source of the darkness, uses the shadows to comfort her. Based on Ch 19 and Ch 27 of Fourth Wing he likely knows she's scared of the dark at this point.

Noooowwwwww - What does all this mean? Well.... I have no idea!

As mentioned before it might mean nothing at all. Rebecca might have just thrown it in there as a quirky personality trait of Violet's. I personally just don't think that's the case.

According to a study done by John Mayer (the clinical psychologist, not the singer) only 11% of adults in the US are scared of the dark. So, its not that common of a fear. Also the amount of times it's brought up throughout the two books we've had so far makes me think it might be significant.

On July 8th Rebecca Yarros and Red Tower Books released a joint Instagram reel with a small video showing the cover of Onyx Storm for the first time. The caption has the tag line "Are you ready to BRAVE THE DARK?" written just like that with 'brave the dark' in all caps. 'Brave the Dark' is also written on the cover of the book in the same way 'Fly or Die' and 'Burn it Down' was used as a tag line of FW and IF respectively. This is another one of the most prominent reasons I think that these allusions to Violets fear of the dark are more than just a basic character trait. In each of the scenes mentioned (with the exception of chapter 1) Xaden comforts Violet in the darkness. Furthermore, if you search 'dark' in the FW ebook there are over 80 occurrences of the word and almost all of them are in relation to Xaden (I couldn't search IF because I don't have the ebook). We know that OS is going to focus on Violet trying to find a cure for Xaden. Is Xaden part of this darkness Violet is scared of?

The Empyrean Series is my current hyper fixation so I couldn't get this spiral out of my head since yesterday.

Please weigh in on what you think Violets fear of the dark means or where it comes from! I'd love to hear other peoples opinions. Also, if you know of any scenes I missed where Violet is scared of the dark please let me know.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk TairnTalk. (I stole that from someone else but I can't remember who said it first but credit to them you are hilarious).

[beekeeperspicnic]

I played a bit of the Beekeeper's picnic demo and it was so charming! (I also played around with Mycroft Simulator **snerk!**)

I actually have two things in one! Firstly, what's your favorite comedy bit (non spoiler)?

Secondly, I really appreciate that one of the relationship options will be found family! Its one of my favorite tropes, and I feel like people forget about it so much (and it's my favorite reading of Holmes and Watson)!

Yay, thank you!

I'm struggling to choose a favourite comedy moment at this point - I've got the giggles so many times during the voice recording process.

I think I'll choose an occasion where Tilda gets so excited she loses the power of speech and her voice actor Alice Osmanski was making the most intense excited noises. In fact, everything between Holmes and Tilda is a hoot. You all need to promise me you'll show Tilda every possible object to see what she has to say about them.

I'm so pleased you're excited for the found family option! I think it makes a lot of sense - we know Watson has no relatives in England and that his brother died (through an addiction, gosh, the parallels) and Holmes only has Mycroft - it makes sense to me that they might come to share a fraternal love for each other.

[serenpedac]

Tulsi

For the prompt "Forget" of the first day of F Hauville Appreciation Week, @happyhauvillebday ^^

Words: ~1500 Rating: Gen Relationship: Female detective/Farah Hauville Warnings: None

A scent brings back memories from Farah's life in the Echo World, memories she thought she had forgotten.

Read on Ao3 here or below.

“Thank you for your help.”

One corner of Jada’s mouth curls in a smile. “Even though I couldn’t tell you anything?”

Gabi shrugs as she gets up from the chair. “No information is also information. It means we can confirm they haven’t tried to make contact here.”

“Wise words. Good luck with tracking those fae down.” Jada accompanies Gabi and Farah to the backdoor when the bell of the antique shop rings. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course, see you later, Jada,” Gabi says.

Farah only gives a subdued smile. She has been unusually quiet this entire visit. At first, Gabi thought it was because she didn’t know Jada and was giving Gabi the lead on one of her first official assignments as an agent, but as the conversation had shifted from the fae rumoured to have arrived in Wayhaven to more generic topics, Farah had remained quiet. And that is nothing like her. 

Gabi is about to ask if she’s okay when Farah halts.

Farah’s nostrils flare, her eyes growing wide. She turns to the right, where an opened door provides a glimpse into a dark room.

“Farah? Everything alright?”

Farah doesn’t seem to hear her, walking into the room as if in trance. Neatly labelled jars in various sizes are lines up against the wall, sea salt, chamomile, volcanic ash, but Farah walk past those without giving them so much as a look. Instead, she goes over to some bunches hanging from the ceiling. Herbs, Gabi realises as her eyes adjust to the gloomy room. They must be hanging there to dry. Farah reaches out a hand, nearly touching them.

“You have good taste.” At Jada’s voice, Farah snaps her hand back. A guilt-stricken look crosses her face, but Jada offers her a warm smile from her place in the doorway. “That’s tulsi, it’s one of my favourites.”

Jada’s loose clothes brush Gabi’s bare arm as she passes her to join Farah.

“Would you like—” 

“Sorry. I— I have to go.” Farah rushes out, past Gabi and through the hallway. The backdoor falls shut with a loud thud right after.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what is going on,” Gabi says. 

Jada gives her a thoughtful look. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” She touches the tulsi that is swaying lightly. “I will keep some on hand just in case.”

She finds Farah down the street, browsing the magazines displayed in front of the general store.

“Did you see this?” She points at a glossy cover of a fashion magazine. “I just know that Nate has something exactly like this in his closet.”

“Ehm, Farah…”

Without looking away from the model on the cover, Farah continues, “Do you think he’ll let me borrow it? It’ll be too large, sure, but I can work with that. Oversized is also a cool look, don’t you agree?” 

Gabi places her hand on Farah’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Sure!” Farah’s smile falters when she meets Gabi’s eyes. “I mean, maybe not really…” Her shoulders drop as she puts the magazine back in the stand. “Wanna walk for a bit?”

Clouds chase across the sky, and Gabi draws her jacket tighter against the wind. The gusts of autumn chill don’t seem to bother Farah, who stares into the middle-distance as they walk in the direction of the forest and the warehouse. Once they reach th edge of the forest and the street turns into an unpaved path, Farah’s shoulders sag and she sighs.

“She reminded me of my mother.” Farah gestures back towards where they’d come from. “Not that my mother was like— I mean, Jada is a different person of course, but the way she spoke and just… You know, the aura she has, calm and wise and, well, you know.” 

For a moment, Gabi remains quiet. Farah talking about her mother is a rare occasion, and while a part of her wants to know everything about Farah, everything about her previous life and how she came to be who she is, it’s not hard to see how these memories hurt Farah. And hurting her is the last thing she wants. So, Gabi merely hums and brushes her hand against Farah’s. When Farah doesn’t withdraw, she takes her wind-chilled hand in hers. 

It seems to be enough, because Farah moves a little closer, until their shoulders touch, and continues talking. “And then there was the— those herbs.”

“Tulsi.”

“Yes, tulsi.” Farah says the words as if she’s tasting it on her tongue. “We didn’t call it that, but it’s the same, I think. No, I know it’s the same. She used to…” She swallows, her voice growing very quiet as she continues. “She used to make tea with it.”

“Ah.” A look to the side to try to determine what Farah may be thinking shows that she is frowning. Not at Gabi, she doesn’t think so, but at herself or maybe a memory. Gently, Gabi rubs her thumb over the back of Farah’s hand.

“No. No, that’s not it.” She shakes her head. “The thing is that I forgot. She used to have that tea all the time and I forgot what it even smelled like.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “If I could forget something like that, something she did almost every day, how much more do you think I’ll forget? How much did I already forget?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, and something in Gabi’s chest constricts. “Ow, Farah.” 

She wraps Farah in a hug, holding her tight. Her body shaking from sobbing, Farah returns the hug, face buried against Gabi’s chest. 

Being around Farah it’s so easy to forget that she used to have another life in another world. Sure, there are glimpses here and there—small things she says or slips of tongue—but with how fully and eagerly she throws herself into living life, the fact that she never chose to be here, that she was ripped from her old life, is easily overlooked.

Running her hands up and down Farah’s back, Gabi feels tears burning in her own eyes.

What else did she have to leave behind? How many memories does she have about things and people that no one here will ever entirely understand?

Farah’s neat braids press against Gabi’s cheek. There is so much she doesn’t know and may not understand, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be here for Farah in the here and now. 

After some time, Farah’s sobbing subsides and she relaxes into Gabi with a sigh. They stay like that, Farah’s head tucked against Gabi’s neck, her breathing steadying a little more with each inhale and exhale. 

Eventually, Farah draws back. Looking at the spot where she’d been leaning against just now, she wrinkles her nose. “Sorry I ruined your jacket, babe.”

Gabi stops the soothing circles she’s been rubbing on Farah’s back to cup Farah’s tear-streaked face. “No ‘sorry’ needed for that. You can ruin my jacket whenever.” She briefly touches her lips to Farah’s forehead. “I’m here for you, Farah.”

Farah sniffles, golden eyes threaded with red and shimmering, but the hint of a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth. “Always, yeah?”

“Always.”

*~*~*~*~*

Some days later they’re sitting in Gabi’s apartment, Gabi leaning back between Farah’s legs, while outside the trees are swaying in the wind and raindrops patter against the window. Her eyes are closed, all her attention on Farah’s fingers running through her hair. With each stroke, she catches a whiff of the floral perfume Farah chose to wear. It’s bright and summery, just like her and just like the summer that is now officially over. Like a memory capsule.

“What’s it, babe?” Farah asks before Gabi even realises she has an idea.

Chewing her lip, she sits up straighter. “There’s this thing we could do, you could do.” She falls quiet. Is this really the right thing to say? What if her idea only makes things worse? Not to mention she’s unsure of how to execute her idea. But Farah gives a questioning hum, fingers carding through Gabi’s hair, waiting for her to continue. “Memories and smells are tied together very closely. A scent can trigger a certain memory, like you experienced. I was thinking you could make a collection of smells that remind you of the Echo world. That way, you can come back to them whenever you want. If you want, that is.”

For a moment, Farah stays silent and stops playing with Gabi’s hair. 

Gabi twists around so she can face her, an apology ready on her lips. She should not have been the one to bring this up. It would have been better to wait until Farah was ready and had broached it herself. But something in Farah’s expression makes her stop. Her usually bright eyes are more serious than Gabi has ever seen them, watching her with a wisdom belonging to the years she has lived, rather than the age she looks.

“I think you’re right.” She pushes aside a strand of hair from Gabi’s forehead. “Will you help me?”

Gabi exhales with relief. “Yes, I would love that.”

[tellmegoodbye]

Tarlos Ask Game

Thank you @strandnreyes for helping me brainstorm!

---

🙇🏽‍♂️ What embarrassing stories do Carlos' sisters like to share about him from when he was little?

⛈️ A thunderstorm knocks out the power for the night. What is Tarlos getting up to?

💃 Tarlos goes on a dancing date. Tell us about how it goes.

⚽️ We know TK played hockey as a kid. What sport(s) did Carlos play? Are there any other extracurricular activities they enjoyed?

🕵🏽‍♂️ Which is your favorite case that Carlos has solved? What types of cases do you think he'll take on in season five other than investigating Gabriel's death?

❤️‍🔥 When and where was TK and Carlos' first time? Are you a Bathroom Blowjob™ truther? Do you have a different take on how things happened?

🔍 Who do you think killed Gabriel? Walk us through your own "Carlos catches the killer" storyline if you'd like.

🐎 How does TK react to seeing Carlos "good with horses" Reyes for the first time?

💞 How did the first "I love you" happen? Do you hc that 2x12 was the first time they said it properly? Do you think it came before 2x04?

🏡 How did Carlos ask TK to move in?

🏔 Carlos has mentioned his desire for adventure despite his tendency to get homesick. What kind of adventures do you see him and TK having one day?

🏖 What does a Tarlos beach day look like to you?

🐶 What are TK and Carlos' favorite dog breeds? Which one do they get if they eventually get a dog of their own?

🍲 What are TK and Carlos' favorite dishes to cook for these occasions: For date night, For when the other is sick, For parties?

📷 Walk us through the different photo albums TK and Carlos keep on their phones.

💌 What was Carlos' first crush on a boy? TK's?

🗽 Which would you rather have? A Tarlos trip to New York? Or a visit out on the ranch? Tell us what shenanigans they'd get up to.

☄️ Which emergency or disaster gives TK and Carlos the most nightmares to this day?

🎶 It's time to expose these boys' spotify playlists! What are TK and Carlos' favorite genres, artists, songs, etc.

🎼 What is one song you would have liked them to have at their wedding?

💍 What are TK and Carlos' favorite moments from the wedding, aside from the vows?

💐 What are their date nights like?

🦎 Tell us about some of the latest Lou II adventures.

💬 Share some notable moments from TK and Carlos' message history.

🏥 Let us finally solve the mystery of TK's first coma. How did it happen? How serious was it?

[lumieumie]

I accidentally deleted the ask but I have officially been asked if I am @myfairkatiecat. My initiation to the fandom is complete

[todayisafridaynight]

This might not be anything, but while writing about your fics, the way you have the characters' mannerisms down PERFECTLY got me thinking about mirroring...

There's a lot of it in 7 (Horii is a directorial genius etc etc), most of it more intentional than these probably are, but there's something so interesting about mirroring that takes the tone of a (relatively) fond memory, a familiar gesture, and inverts it in the way shown here.

OH I'M GLAD YOU'VE NOTICED THESE TOO I think I mentioned it months back (or I drafted a post 'bout it but didn't think it was anything noteworthy) but I always really did like how the Arakawa Family mimicked each other's mannerisms (also circling back to how Jo and Masato calling Ichiban 'Ichi' presumably after picking it up from Arakawa)!

Aoki actually does the same sitting gesture too! I went back to double check and skim through the rest of the game's cutscenes, and as far as I could tell unless I skipped a scene, it really is only these three that do this specific pose:

It's such a small detail but I love it immensely and it really does highlight their connections with each other and it drives me insane

[nanaslutt]

Forgotten lunch

synopsis: Nanami forgets his lunch and you being the sweet wife you are, decide to stop by Jujutsu High to bring it to him

contains: fem reader, established relationship, teasing, dirty talk, possessive!Nanami, rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral(f!r), cum eating, office sex

note: this was a vip request from a friend :3 i hope u enjoy <3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You awoke to a chime sounding from your phone on the nightstand, a text message from your husband, Nanami. He texted you only seconds ago, letting you know he had left for work and would be home later that night. He did this every time he left for work when you were still asleep, and every time it never failed to make you swoon. It was such a small thing, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

You couldn't wait for the day you transferred to work at Jujutsu High instead of the Kyoto school. The thought of getting ready every morning with Nanami and commuting to work together--maybe stopping at a coffee shop before you arrived at the school, made your heart flutter. Only two more weeks and your fantasies would become a reality.

After stretching your body and groaning dramatically, messing up the sheets in the process as you splayed your body out along the length of the bed like a starfish, you begrudgingly pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. You had finished all of your assignments early the day before, meaning you had a day off. A rare occasion, but one you were extremely grateful for.

When you walked into your shared bathroom to wash your face, you were met with a small pink sticky note on your side of the bathroom, a heart, and the words 'Have a good day' written in Nanami's neat handwriting. You smiled as you looked at it before putting on your headband to keep the stray hairs out of your face as you continued with your skincare.

Once you had finished all of your morning care, and pulled on a simple, comfortable outfit, you strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked into the room. Immediately, you noticed Nanami's grey lunchbox sitting atop the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked up to the bag, wondering if he had forgotten his lunch, or if he had used a different bag today and this was the one he used the day prior. 

Sure enough, when you unzipped the bag, it was full of the lunch you had prepared for him the day before, the cold leaked out into the air, feeling it on your fingertips as you looked inside, letting you know that the food inside was still good. Thank god for insulated lunch boxes. You shook your head and smiled at his mistake, it was unusual that Nanami missed something like this, he was a man severely devoted to his schedule after all. 

You chalked it up to him being a little tired from the night before, causing his lunch to slip his mind. Because you had the day off, you might've been a little selfish the night before when you made Nanami fuck you into the sheets over and over again. Clinging onto him as you whispered into his ear 'Don't stop, give me more~' until the early hours of the night. 

It's not like Nanami was complaining, he was just as eager as you were. You definitely could've shortened your... session a little bit for his sake though. Maybe you would've if his dick allowed you to think of anything other than how deep it was inside you. Shaking your head you snapped yourself back into the present, pushing down the growing arousal you felt between your thighs while your brain replayed the most intimate moments you spent together last night. 

Clearing your throat, you zipped the lunch bag shut, taking it in your hand as you decided to take it to him. You had nothing to do on this day anyway, it's not like it was a hindrance to you in any way. Besides, Nanami's commute to the school was so close--a lot closer than you were to the Kyoto school.

Sitting on the floor with Nanami's lunchbox beside you, you pulled your shoes on, getting ready to leave. You checked your appearance in the mirror before you walked out the door, making sure you looked presentable before you saw your husband, ignoring the fact that Nanami had said many many times that he would find you attractive if you were in a garbage bag. 

You were surprised Nanami hadn't texted you about his missing lunch. Maybe he still hadn't noticed, even if he did, you doubted he would ask you to bring it to him. Even though he knew you had nothing going on today, Nanami wouldn't want to inconvenience you--such a selfless man. You grabbed the handle of his lunchbox, lifting it from the floor, and with that, you were on your way.

You always loved the Jujutsu High campus. The scenery was beautiful, and the plants and flowers that decorated nicely around the buildings were so well tended to, making it look so clean and inviting. Another plus was the people. Everyone here was so sweet and welcoming, save for a certain old guitarist who appeared to be withering away in front of your eyes, and the higher-ups of course. It was seldom that you saw them though.

The students on campus loved you as well, they were all so excited when they heard from Nanami that you were transferring. You hadn't had many interactions with them, but you could tell they were good kids and respected your husband, especially a young Yuji Itadori, who seemed to almost worship the ground Nanami walked on.

You knew the way to Nanami's office with ease, you had been there many times when you got off work before him and decided to come to his work and sit in his office with him while he finished up. Strolling through the quiet halls of the teacher's offices, your eyes lit up when they landed on Nanami's, his office placed next to Gojo's, whose door was poorly decorated with flowers and hearts that looked like third graders had drawn them. It always made you smile when you saw it. 

You knocked softly against Kento's door, not speaking as you wanted to surprise him. Before you even finished, the door was being swung open, and your eyes were met with your husband's, his reading glasses pushed atop his head, his hair being pushed back with them. You shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, god he looked good in a suit. His built stature was practically ripping through the material of his clothes, making your thoughts run rampant. You hoped he didn't catch the blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I sensed your cursed energy, what are you doing here my love?" Nanami asked. The tips of his ears were turning a light shade of pink. He was excited to see you--cute. Your hands were behind your back, hiding his lunch box from his view. He said a quiet 'come inside' before you spoke, stepping to the side as he opened his door more for you, letting you into his space.

You didn't miss the way he locked the door after he shut it, making you smile to yourself. "Forgot something, Ken?" You asked, tilting your head at him knowingly as you revealed his lunch box to him, holding it out with both hands in front of him. Nanami sighed, a small smile gracing his features as he took the lunchbox from you, taking a few steps to set in on his desk before he walked back over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your body.

"You didn't have to bring it all the way here, I would've realized at some point and gone to a cafe to get something to eat." He explained, his large hand caressing the side of your cheek. Nanami's body heat spread throughout your entire body as he held you against his chest, nuzzling your cheek instinctually against his hand. "I made your favorite, wouldn't want you to miss out. I'm not doing anything today anyways, it was nothing." You replied, tipping your face against his hand so you could press a kiss to the side of his palm.

Nanami leaned his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rested it there softly. His eyes flit between your soft lips and your gentle eyes, filled with so much love for him. "Mmmm." He moaned against you as he pressed your lips together, relishing how soft you felt against him. He kissed you slowly, passionately, before he pulled back, way too soon for your liking. 

You felt that same throbbing you felt while you were fantasizing about the night before making its appearance once more as he looked down at you with a smile, brushing the stray hairs from your face. "Well, I appreciate it, my love. Truthfully I would've been slightly disappointed when lunchtime came around and I realized I wouldn't get to eat you're cooking." Nanami said, his hands pulling away from your waist as he made his way back to his desk, sitting down in his expensive office chair.

While you mourned the loss of his hands on you, your greedy eyes took in the way his thighs bulged through his pants as he sat down, the material covering them straining to fit his muscles. Maybe you should get him some new pants... or maybe not, the sight of them was too delicious. 

Biting your lip, you strolled over to him as he looked back down at his documents, his glasses finding their home on the bridge of his nose. "What are your plans for the day? Just relaxing or did you need to go out for something?" Nanami asked, keeping his eyes on his paperwork. His body jolted slightly before relaxing when you came up behind him and started massaging his shoulders with your smaller hands. 

Your fingers dug into his muscles, working him over so well as you loosened the knots in his shoulders. Nanami rolled his head to the side, pressing his lips together as his eyes fell shut, relaxing against your touch. You leaned against the shell of his ear, biting the tip of his before you whispered teasingly, "I was just going to wait at home all alone in my panties till my husband came home." 

Nanami groaned in response, his eyes cracking open as he looked to the ceiling for help before he looked back down at his document when he realized what you were trying to do. "Don't do this right now." He said sternly, trying to ignore the heat that started to bloom deep in his stomach from your words. "Do what? I'm just helping you relax. I can't do that?" You replied, playing dumb.

Nanami felt his cock stir to life in his pants. He hated that he liked it when you played coy with him. "Honey, I have a lot of work to do. Was yesterday not enough?" Kento responded, his eyes fluttering when your thumbs dug into a particularly tense spot in his shoulders. You felt your arousal grow at his mention of what the two of you did last night. "I can never get enough of you Ken~" You teased, saying his name seductively in his ear. 

"Honey please." He begged, doing his best not to give in to you. "Gojo is just one room over, I can't do this with you right now." He said firmly, his shoulders flexing under your hands when he leaned forward to start reviewing the documents in front of him. "Hm? Why are you bringing him up? What kinds of lewd things are you thinking about in there?" You teased, tapping the top of his head with your finger.

Nanami was already fully hard in his slacks, just from a few touches and a couple of dirty words from you. Your ability to rile him up like this was truly a talent, he was absolutely whipped by you. You peeked over his shoulder when he stayed quiet, looking down at the very obvious bulge in his pants as he wrote something unintelligible on the paper, trying to look busy. 

"Are you hard, baby? I didn't even do anything, what got you so worked up?" You giggled, biting your lip as you watched his cock twitch through his pants, the sight making your mouth water. Nanami was losing his cool, he didn't know how much more of your teasing he could take. You decided to test your luck further, sliding your hands down his shoulders your ran them over his chest, your fingers teasing his solid pecs over his shirt. 

Nanami groaned when you raked your nails back up the expanse of his chest, they scratched over his sensitive nipples, making his cock twitch in his pants. You were about to say something overconfident and snarky, but you were cut off when Nanami stood from his chair, shoved it to the side away from his desk, and turned around to catch your slender neck in his hand. 

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work because my wife is a needy slut?" He growled lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brought his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist firmly. The sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin as you smiled at him. You were getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes please." You said selfishly, your smile growing with your arousal as you kept your lidded eyes on your handsome husband's face, plastered with frustration.

Your hands came up to grip Nanami's wrist that was holding your neck as you waited for him to make his next move. He licked his teeth before he manhandled you down on the desk, your chest crumpling any of the documents that were unfortunate enough to be sitting in front of him. He kept a large hand on the back of your neck while your hands gripped the edge of the desk.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and echoing in your ears from how excited you were. You tried to turn your head far enough so you could watch Nanami undo his belt when you heard the clinking of the metal as he ripped the leather from the confines of the belt loops on his pants. "What do you think you're looking at?" Kento asked harshly, squinting his eyes at you as he hastily unzipped his pants to release his cock from the too-tight confines of his work pants.

"Your cock." You said boldly, your eyes locking onto the appendage as he pulled it out from his boxers, keeping his pants on but lower on his hips so his cock had enough space to get out. Nanami wrapped his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum onto the floor from how worked up he was. 

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you Ken?" You asked, wiggling your ass at him. You really weren't planning on jumping on Nanami like this when you decided to bring his lunch to him, but a single quick one over of his impressive frame in his work clothes managed to change that. "Shut up." He growled back, releasing his cock after he gave it a few strokes to pull down the casual pants you wore, panties and all, exposing your dripping cunt to the room.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I like when you get rough." You teased, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when he exposed your cunt to the room. You watched from your peripheral as his eyes took in your soaked cunt, his thumb spreading open your folds to his greedy eyes. "And what makes you think I'm pretending, hm?" Nanami spat, the vein in his forehead popping out at your teasing. 

He slid his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he had on the back of your neck tightened against you as he watched your jaw drop in a small o, your eyes fluttering back in your head. "So fucking easy, all I gotta do is touch your clit a little and you behave," Nanami said, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbbed watching your face contort from your pleasure.

"'M n-not easy." You tried to spit back. Nanami was right though, the second he gave you any sort of attention, you were a good girl. He knew just how to calm you down. "No?" He asked, rubbing his thumb faster against your clit. "Look at yourself." He said, his fingers on your neck emphasizing his words with a squeeze to your pulse point.

You tried to press your thighs together as he rubbed your clit, but Nanami was having none of that. His larger thigh knocked your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he had full access to your pretty pussy. "You're gonna be quiet when I fuck you. Not gonna make a fucking sound." Nanami instructed, not giving you an option. 

You nodded, agreeing to his words--but honestly, you would say anything he wanted you to if it meant he gave you his cock. You whined at the loss of his thumb against your pussy, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock, rubbing up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you.

"Let me know you heard me, tell me you're going to be quiet," Nanami repeated, catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulled back, making you whine. "Yes, yes Ken I'll be quiet, just-, please." You begged, trying to push your ass back against him so he would give you his dick already.

"Please what?" He asked. You didn't miss the teasing tone his voice took, it was his turn to play with you now. "Y-your cock, give me your cock pleasee~" You whined, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him through your blurry peripheral. Nanami released the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in his one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back. "So easy." He repeated, referencing his words earlier as he slowly slid his cock into your cunt.

Your jaw fell open agaisnt the wood of his desk before a loud moan slipped from your lips. Nanami wasted no time in wrapping a hand under your face and pressing his hand against your mouth, his back lying flush against yours as he crushed you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he spoke, "Be fucking quiet." He groaned, keeping his voice semi-quiet as he spoke.

"Two inches of my cock inside you and you break your promise?" He whispered, thrusting the rest of his cock inside you, a muffled moan resounding against Nanami's hand. "I wasn't fucking kidding. Gojo is right on the other side of that wall and you just moaned like a slut for everyone to hear." He growled, slowly humping his hips against your ass. 

You let out soft moans against his hand, your eyes rolling back in your head each time his fat tip brushed against your sweet spot deep inside you. "You're my fucking wife. No one else gets to hear how you cry for me when I fuck you, got that?" He whispered, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. You loved when Nanami got possessive, it made you feel so fucking hot all over.

You nodded against the desk, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock as he fucked you open for him. He kept his weight against your back as he fucked you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around his office. He was too worried about your moans, he should've been more concerned with that. Anyone who walked by his room would easily be able to tell what was going on from the slapping alone, whether or not you were making any sound.

You did your best to keep your moans quiet as he pressed his hand against your mouth, but it was proving to be so fucking hard. It was rare that you and Nanami got intimate at any place other than your home, so you weren't used to having to be quiet. It wasn't like you had much of a choice either. Nanami was fucking you so hard, he was practically punching the sounds out of your body.

His cock was touching all the right places inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. "God your pussy is squeezing me so tight." Nanami groaned, his head burring in the crook of your neck as he whispered the words, his hot breath tickling your skin. "M-mmmm" You moaned into his hand, your ass wiggling back against him as you tried to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you--or were you trying to get more? You couldn't remember, he was fucking you dumb.

"What's wrong? Too much?" Nanami asked, faux sympathy laced in his voice. He sped up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abused your g-spot with his cockhead. You could only whine against his hand, unsure what you would've said if he wasn't covering your mouth. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

You whined, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Nanami's balls were slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucked you so deep. "Shhhhh." He reminded when you started to get a little too cockdrunk, forgetting where you were. His hand could only do so much in keeping your moans down, he needed you to help him out a bit. "Be quiet baby, do this one thing for me, c'mon." He urged.

You wanted to laugh. How could he say that, then somehow fuck his cock deeper inside you? Fucking tease, he knew what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm build up inside you. All the stimulation was too much. Your hands started to go numb from how hard Nanami was gripping your wrists combined with his body weight crushing them. That was another thing--his body weight.

He was effectively suffocating you but in the best way. Each time his cock slid inside you, it punched the air from your lungs, and with how much he was laying on you, it was making it very hard to recover from his thrusts and take in a breath. It felt like he was choking you, but ten times more intense, and you loved it.

You think that's why your orgasm came on so quickly. The anticipation combined with how deep he was pounding into you was going to make you cum--and hard, all over his cock. "You got tighter...are you close? Hm? Gonna cum all over my dick right now?" He asked against your air, his deep voice only adding fuel to the fire as his soft lips sucked the lobe of your ear into his mouth, his teeth slightly pulling on it.

You nodded, your moans increasing in frequency but the volume stayed the same, you didn't want to anger Kento more than you already had. "Good, do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He cooed into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he kept the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your shins crossed over one another with the sheer intensity of the pleasure you were feeling. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open against his palm as it opened in a silent scream. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuckkkk, atta girl, good fucking girlll." Nanami groaned as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your moans sounded shaky as the rest of your body jolted as it was wracked with your high.

Nanami didn't have to look to know you had just squirted all over his cock, and undoubtedly all over his pants. "Gonna cum inside you, that's what you want right? Wanna feel me deep inside you?" He babbled against your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy and stuttered the closer her got to the edge. He released the hand he had on your mouth so you could speak, he needed to hear you beg for him.

"Y-ess Ken c-cum inside me pleaseee~" You whined, your moans coming out slurred and choppy as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your high, slightly overstimulating you as he used your cunt to get him off. "O-okay okay- fuck c-cumming-" Nanami's hips stilled against your ass as his cock twitched inside you with every rope of cum he shot deep inside. His balls clenched with his cock as he released all of his seed inside you, groaning loudly against your ear--so much for being quiet.

"Oh fuck- there's s-so much." You whined back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolled his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stopped moving. "God... fuck..." Nanami huffed as he came down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such an intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his seed was spilling out around his dick from how much he had given you. "K-ken... can't... breathe..." You whispered against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood. Nanami quickly sat up, standing his full weight on shaky legs. "Sorry honey, that really took a lot out of me." Nanami groaned as he slowly pulled his spent cock out of your tight walls.

You hissed in overstimulation as he slid out of you. Your walls clenched around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugged his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reached over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wiped his cock clean before tucking it back in his pants.

You layed still against the desk for a couple of seconds before you tried to push yourself up. You were quickly stopped by your husband, who pressed his hand against your lower back, keeping you on his desk. "Don't move." He instructed, to which you obeyed, blushing as you laid still against the wooden desk, your body still shaking and twitching from your orgasm.

You looked around the room as you waited for Nanami to do something. Your body jolted when you felt his tongue lap at your used cunt, his large hands gripping the fat of your ass as he spread you apart so he could clean you better with his tongue. You slapped your own hand over your mouth as he ate his cum out of you, making you whine in oversensitivity.

"K-kento!" You whined through your fingers, your free hand shooting back to rake through his sweaty hair, your head tipping to the side so you could make eye contact with his lidded eyes as he licked through your folds, cleaning you up. Nanami moaned in response, shaking his head against you so he could get his face deeper, tasting your combined essence on his tongue.

You blushed at his antics, moaning softly agaisnt your hand before he pulled away, standing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at you innocently. "How's your cum taste?" You teased, smirking at him with a flushed face. He smirked back before he lifted your tired body and placed you on his lap, facing him, as he sat down on his office chair.

You adjusted your pants on top of him, covering your cunt with your pants and panties once more before he gripped your chin and leaned forward. You leaned into the kiss, your lips slotting together with his as he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly. You tasted the familiar bitterness of his cum on your tongue, mixed with something else you could only assume was yourself. 

He pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together as you gazed at him with a slightly slack jaw. "You tell me, how do I taste?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over your lip before he dropped both hands to your thighs, rubbing the skin there soothingly. 

You blushed at how bold he was being, oh how the tables turned. You pouted at him as he smirked, rubbing his hands along the soft material of your pants. "Any chance this was premeditated and you brought an extra pair of pants for me?" Nanami asked, looking down at the very obvious wet spots on his crotch and thighs from where you squirted on him.

"Was that- did I do that?" You asked, looking down at the mess and blushing furiously. You don't know how you were only noticing it now, it was a massive dark patch, really. "Yes baby, you did that," Kento responded, nodding. You looked around the room for anything that could be suitable pants or at least something he could use to cover himself when he left for the day.

After your eyes found nothing, of course, because you were in Nanami Kento's office, the very organized man who only brought with him what was necessary--you looked back to him before speaking, "You uh... you wanna wear my pants?" 

It was the thought that mattered.

[ja3yun]

Push My Buttons | L.HS

bodyguard!heeseung x rich girl!reader warnings: enemies to ???, angst, smut (mdni), car sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, mentions of spit, possessive!hee, some violence, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.5k synopsis: lee heeseung has been hired as your personal security by your father. you and him don't see eye to eye, so when tensions rise at your best friends party, you both know how to push each others buttons. a/n: hi! this is a thank you for 1k! i still don't believe it if i'm honest because i don't think i deserve it but regardless, thank you all so much if you follow me! this is a little idea i had sitting on my laptop that i've decided to complete for this occasion so enjoy!

_____

Browsing through the racks of the Prada store, you can't help but feel acutely aware of the imposing presence of your hired security, stationed just two feet away.

"Do you have to stick to me like glue all the time?" you mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze.

“It’s my job, Y/N. You’d know what that was if you weren’t such a spoiled brat,” he spits back, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

Lee Heeseung was appointed by your father to ensure your safety during his frequent business trips. Unfortunately, your father's demanding role as CFO of a tech company keeps him away for extended periods. He doesn't trust you to fend for yourself, fearing that others might exploit you to reach him. Given your father's controversial reputation stemming from questionable business dealings, Heeseung's imposing presence is a constant fixture in your life.

Your bodyguard would be more tolerable if he weren't so insistent on being by your side every second. It's tiresome, really, how he clings to you like a shadow, never granting you a moment of solitude. If you go to the bathroom, he is right outside the door and if you dare try and sneak out the window - which you have tried numerous times - he is chasing you down the street, sweeping you off your feet and taking you home.

You had hoped that being only a couple of years older, he might adopt a more relaxed approach, letting you live your life a little, but you were wrong. Since the first day he turned up, he’s been nothing but a hoover, sucking the fun and freedom from your life all to keep you safe.

Sure, he probably knows deep down that he's a tad overbearing, but hey, he's clinging to this gig like a lifeline. Compared to his last job of being a bouncer at some dingy club, knocking back people with fake IDs and kicking out drunk people, your dad's cushy paycheck is like hitting the jackpot.

To Heeseung, you’re just some rich kid who has more money than sense, squandering it on everything and anything you deem a necessity at the time, only to then throw them away or forget about them. Considering he struggled to pay his rent before this job, he hates your whimsy ways with money. 

It's like you live in your own little bubble, completely disconnected from the real world. There are people out there starving and you’re buying thousands of pounds worth of clothes that you could easily get from a bargain bin for a fiver. 

Finally, you spare him a glance, “Just stand over there, okay? You really don’t have to be here and mess up my whole vibe,” you flail your arms around hoping the gestures will add some exclamation to your statement.

With a resigned sigh, he acquiesces, nodding, "In my line of sight at all times, got it?" He scans the area once more, on high alert for anything out of place, before reluctantly giving you some breathing room.

Heeseung blends in, looking through the obscenely expensive trousers which he is convinced he has seen the exact same jeans in thrift stores, just without the brand label. It’s a reminder of the contrast between you both; your lavish ways are still an alien concept to him.

He’s been in this role for 3 months and he won’t get over it, how different you both are. Your beliefs and traits are so starkly dissimilar that not once have you ever seen eye to eye. He doesn’t hate you, but he’s close to it. You always treat him with little to no respect and considering he’s only looking out for you per your daddy’s request, he would like to think you would be a little more grateful. 

Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a lone figure approaching you, a slick smile playing on his lips. Heeseung’s jaw tightens as he analyses the scene in front of him, trying to speculate what the guy wanted, although Heeseung already knows his intentions.

You’re too busy trying to decide whether beige or cream looks better on you as you hold out two vest tops to notice the incoming man.

“I think you should go with that one,” the sudden boom of a voice beside you makes you jump and turn to him, clutching the clothes to your chest as you try to still your thumping heart, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

Normally, you pay no mind to greasy men like him, but his cinched suit which was clearly tailor-made to fit and his sleek dyed brown hair was enough for you to give him a second glance. You can always spare some time for people who look good.

“Which one?” you ask, holding them back up at arm's length.

“The left one, I think you would look sexy in any of them, to be honest,” he smirks, thinking he’s being so smooth but you’re not really impressed by flattery. You know you look good, you see yourself in the mirror every day. Plus, he’s only trying to oil you up so he can either as you out or try and fuck you. The only one who genuinely gives you truthful advice or says you look good and mean it with no intention is Heeseung.

Your bodyguard is watching like a hawk, face steaming with anger as the guy puts his hand on your waist, holding one of the vest tops to your chest area. He’s already given the guy enough leeway by even letting him speak to you, but now he’s touching you, and Heeseung will be damned if he lets him get away with that.

With measured steps, Heeseung comes up behind you, licking his lips as hugs you from behind, “Baby girl, are you almost done?” he whispers loudly enough that the unwanted man in front of you can hear, “Who is this?” he asks, eyes now pointed forward.

The stranger's confidence falters under Heeseung's intense scrutiny, his eyes widening slightly as he realises the gravity of the situation. Heeseung's demeanour is unmistakably protective, his stance leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. His eyes are so dark that the boy knows that one wrong move will have Heeseung pouncing on him.

“I’m Woobin,” he says almost inaudibly. It’s amazing how quickly he resigned from his cocky attitude as soon as Heeseung made his presence known.

"Do you work here, Woobin?" Heeseung's voice is a low rumble against your ear, his lips trailing a path of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands caress your stomach, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns against the skin beneath your shirt

The butterflies in your tummy are fluttering around as if they’ve been disrupted from their nest by his touch. This is new, he hasn’t done this before, usually opting to just stand between you and potential danger. It's exhilarating and maddening all at once, the line between protection and possessiveness blurring in the heat of the moment.

Heeseung knows that if he simply said he was your security, it wouldn’t deter the man, he had to think on his feet. That and the way he touched you evoked something inside him, protectiveness laced with something else. 

“I don’t work here, I-”

“Then get your hands the fuck off my girl,” Heeseung interrupts Woobin, maintaining eye contact with him as he bites down a little on the nape of your neck, almost like he’s physically marking you as his own in front of a potential suitor.

Your head is in a frenzy, knowing that Heeseung is stepping far beyond his role of protection, yet, you don’t stop him. It would be lying to say that his lips didn’t feel good on your skin, the way his fingers lightly gripped the softness of your stomach gave you fanny flutters like nothing else; as he boldly stakes his claim, you can't help but feel a surge of desire mingling with frustration

But this is also the man that is currently cockblocking you right now, stopping you from getting Woobin’s number and potentially a good fuck that you’re clearly in desperate need of; why else would you be getting turned on by Heeseung right now? This is the man you cannot stand, he is the last person on earth you want to be with. 

Woobin awkwardly laughs and backs away, giving a slight wave to you as he walks out of the store, leaving you both in the thick silence.

As his form disappears into the distance, Heeseung stands by your side, his stare unflinching as he watches the threat go by, proud of himself for handling the situation quickly. Heeseung hasn’t let you go, his hands moving from your tummy to your waist, gripping it softly.

You don’t know what to do, still standing in a haze of shock and confusion, your eyes watching the back of Woobin with intensity. The man behind you didn’t even have to say much before Woobin was running with his tail between his legs.

Honestly, you know Heeseung can be intimidating, but this must have been a new level, even for him. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet, you know they held only room for intimidation.

Heeseung's attitude relaxes somewhat, but his protective stance remains firm. He slowly releases you from his grip, placing one last kiss on your neck for what reason he doesn’t know. 

You take a moment to compose yourself, internally dealing with the mixed feelings of the encounter before pure rage flushes over you, “What the fuck was that?” you seeth, twisting your body to face him.

“What was what?” he asks, unfazed by your angry demeanour. 

Slamming the vests back on the rack, you face him, your shorter stature suddenly being a hindrance as you try to act tough, “You know what! You just cockblocked me for no reason,” you ball your fists to the side of your hips, trying not to cause too much of a scene in the store. 

“Good. God knows what he had, he was a creep,” Heeseung’s face is stoic, not giving much of his emotions away which only serves to piss you off more. 

You wanted him to look a little bit sorry for overstepping, to say he was at least sympathetic towards your frustration. Instead, he just stands there, insulting the boy he didn’t even know.

Letting out a groan, you shut your eyes and unclench your hands, “I can’t ever have any fun with you around,” you try to calmly explain but as the words leave your lips, you begin to question why you’re trying to be civil in the first place. 

This man is the bain of your existence, the reason you haven’t had sex in months, he is utterly infuriating and here he stands in front of you with no remorse for ruining your life.

Heeseung nods, feigning understanding as he leans down to make eye contact with you, his nose almost touching yours, “I don’t know, baby girl, it seems like you were having a blast a second ago,” he says smugly, a half smirk creeping onto his face.

You beam red, embarrassment and anger mixing to create a shade of crimson you didn’t know you could make. He was frustrating, arrogant, irrational, rude, cocky, and overall just irritating. You hate Lee Heeseung.

Winking at you, he nudges his nose with yours before standing back up, his figure back to towering over you, “Pick the one on the right and let’s get a move on,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets and taking one giant step back. 

It was like he was mocking you, giving you your space after infiltrating it as if he wasn’t leaving wet kisses on your neck five minutes ago. 

With a huff, you face the two vests once again, looking between both options, each one having its own backer. You bite your lip and contemplate over them, choosing the one on the right.

_____

As you apply your final coat of mascara, you take one long look in the mirror. You look great, everything about you falls into place perfectly, your hair and makeup only adding to your beauty while the dress you’re wearing hugs you nicely.

Obviously, you don’t tell Heeseung that you had a party tonight, knowing that he would lock you up like some Disney princess in your castle. If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than men coming into your zone, it was parties where tons of men could. 

The last party you went to was just before Heeseung arrived on the scene, the bodyguard now never letting you experience any joy or social gatherings that weren’t accompanied by him or a simple meet-up with friends. ‘There’s too much risk at a party’ he will always tell you.

A knock on your bedroom door almost makes you drop the mascara wand but you catch it before it causes disaster. 

“I’m coming in,” Heeseung’s voice travels through the door before he swings it open. His eyes trail over your body as he assesses the outfit, “A bit dressed up for a night in with me, no?” he tries to pass it off as a lighthearted joke but he knows he’s about to argue with you about your plans.

“Oh, y’know, just thought I would try and make an effort to sit in and watch Louder Milk for the nth time,” you roll your eyes, twisting the mascara shut and turning to face him.

Heeseung grumbles, “Let’s cut to the chase where you tell me where you plan on going and I obviously stop you,” he crosses his arms and tilts his head expectantly.

But you can’t let him win, not this time around. It’s your best friend’s birthday night out and if you miss it, you’ll never be invited to anything again; you can’t miss a 21st birthday party and expect there not to be consequences, especially not in your circle of friends.

You finish getting ready with a sense of purpose, carefully placing your lip oil and hairbrush into your YSL bag. "I've got plans," you announce, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

His brows furrow slightly. "You never mentioned we had plans tonight," he remarks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"We don't have plans, Heeseung. I do. And you weren’t invited," you retort, your tone tinged with sarcasm as you shoot him a playful smirk.

He raises an eyebrow, trying to decipher your intentions. "A party? A date?" he ventures, scanning your attire and deducing that this isn't just a casual outing.

As you attempt to breeze past him, he swiftly moves to block the doorway with his arm, his muscles tensing as he grips the doorframe. You lock eyes with him, noticing the frustration brewing beneath the surface.

His jaw tightens as you stand your ground, a silent challenge passing between you, "Tell me where you're off to," he demands, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

You really need to get fucked because he’s suddenly turning you on, and his body starting to look like a jungle gym. Regardless of the fury and hatred for the boy in front of you, when he got angry, he was a new level of hot; it’s probably the reason you subconsciously push his buttons.

“I am going to Ryujin’s birthday party,” you confess, taking hold of his arm and trying to pry it from the wall, but he’s too strong and it doesn’t work. Even with all your efforts, it doesn’t budge.

Smiling at your feeble attempts to move him, Heeseung cockily leans on one foot, the other tucking behind his leg as he watches you struggle.

Undeterred, you try to slip under his arm, but he effortlessly scoops you up and returns you to your room, closing the door behind you with a practised ease. His years dealing with drunks at his previous job have endowed him with certain skills in handling runaways..

"Don't make this difficult, Y/N," he warns.

"You're the one being difficult! It's my best friend's birthday. Are you seriously telling me I can't go? I'm not in danger, you know," you retort angrily, frustration evident in your voice.

Heeseung understands that you're completely oblivious to the dangers lurking around your family, shielded by your innocent perspective. No one has bothered to inform you about your father's involvement in money laundering and his dealings with shady men. In your eyes, having a bodyguard feels like an unnecessary intrusion into your life rather than a protective measure.

"Listen, let's just imagine I let you go. Where is it?" he asks, a tinge of apprehension in his voice.

"Serenity," you reply, already sensing the tension building.

Heeseung's eyes widen in disbelief, "Serenity? The bar down by the loch? Are you serious?" he exclaims, his concern evident.

It was a losing battle the moment you opened your mouth. The bar isn’t known for its good reputation, it’s sleazy and grim, and despite its calm name, no one who occupies the bar could be considered peaceful.

Ryujin picked it simply because she likes to cosplay as a poor person sometimes, wondering what it would be like to live on the other side of wealth while obnoxiously spending a shit ton of money, completely rendering her ideas pointless.

You don’t agree with it but she is your best friend, the only person that gave you the time of day when you didn’t have a penny to your name all those years ago.

"I am not letting you step foot in that place," Heeseung asserts firmly, drawing a line in the sand.

“She hired out the whole bar, it’s not like anyone can just walk in,” you try to reason back but it doesn’t work as Heeseung’s resolve remains the same.

“You aren’t going, end of discussion. The whole neighbourhood is trouble and your friend is fucking stupid for this,” he scratches his jaw as the worst-case scenarios pop into his head. He might not like you but he really can’t stand some of the thoughts popping into his head, the urge to protect you growing stronger by the second.

The loch is a small part of town, mostly made up of deadbeats and criminals. Word spreads fast around there and there is a high chance the scums of the area know a bunch of snooty rich kids are going to be there for the picking.

You need to go, you can’t cancel any more plans so you need to think of something quick, “You can come with me,” you suggest, stepping closer to him. Would it be overbearing and annoying to have him there? Yes but at least you would be there. And it might actually be good if he was, after all, he is good at his job; you feel safe around him and the more he’s warning you away from Serenity and the loch, the more you’re starting to want his protection.

“I thought I wasn’t invited?” He raises his eyebrows sceptically.

Placing your hands on his chest, you trail them up to his shoulders, a pout forming on your lips. "Well, I'm inviting you now. Please, Heeseungie?" you implore, employing your best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering lashes in an attempt to sway him.

Typically, your pleading face doesn't work on him, but the combination of your hands massaging his tense shoulders and the endearing nickname starts to chip away at him.

"Fine. We can go for an hour or so, and then I'm taking you straight back home, understand?" he relents, already second-guessing his decision.

You squeal with joy, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Finally, you've managed to reason with him.

Pushing you away gently, he clears his throat. "Be at the car in 10 minutes before I change my mind."

This is going to end disastrously.

_____

"Remember—"

"In your line of sight at all times," you finish, a hint of exasperation in your voice as you recite Heeseung's usual mantra.

Heeseung unbuckles his seatbelt with a grunt, his irritation clear as he mutters curses under his breath. He can't believe he's ended up in this mess, much less mocked by you. He is well aware that this is a recipe for disaster especially as he examines the area and notices gritty individuals prowling around the loch's borders, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Heeseung is confident in his ability to handle himself; it's your safety that concerns him the most as he observes a suspicious figure crossing in front of your car.

You waste no time darting out of the car and hurrying to the club's entrance, leaving Heeseung trailing behind, a gust of wind in your wake.

"This fucking girl," he grumbles to himself as he parks the car and follows after you. He sees through your tactic—trying to get inside before him so he'll be left waiting outside while you venture off on your own. But he's not falling for it today.

He catches up to you just as you're about to give your name to the bouncer, his arm instinctively settling around your waist. The bouncer eyes Heeseung with a sceptical gaze, taking note of his attire and demeanour, which hardly scream 'rich kid bellend.'

As Heeseung squeezes your side, you shoot him a playful smirk over your shoulder. "Oh, this is my boyfriend. He's just trying to get into character for the place—dirty-chic and all that," you quip sarcastically, gesturing between him and the bouncer.

The bouncer chuckles at your comment, nodding in amusement. "You've done a good job. I almost mistook you for one of those creeps by the water," he jests, stepping aside to let you both in.

Heeseung doesn't react to your teasing or the bouncer's remarks. He's grown accustomed to such comments after spending the past few months with you and your friends. From being called shabby to poor, to filthy to crude, he's heard it all. Sometimes you apologise for your friend's words, but he knows the damage is already done.

It’s times like that that he has some faith in you, that you aren’t all diamonds and gold, that you do have a heart underneath it all.

Sticking close to you, you both end up at the bar ordering a gin and tonic for you and a water for himself. He knows everything about you by now, the constant watchful eye on you has got him to learn your favourite everything, so he finds himself ordering for you more times than not. That is, when you let him be actively seen with you.

"Can you vanish over there while I find Ryujin?" you ask, already scanning the room for the birthday girl.

Nodding, Heeseung points towards a nearby wall. "I'll be over there. If anything happens, remember to stay where I can see you. Don't run off; I will find you. And if you're going to the bathroom, come and get me," he advises, his tone firm as he leans down to emphasize the importance of his instructions.

"Yeah, sure," you reply casually, already making your way over to your friends at the other end of the bar, their excited screams and squeals guiding your path.

True to his word, Heeseung gives you space but remains vigilant, never taking his eyes off you. He's pleasantly surprised when three hours pass, and you're only on your second drink. Normally, he's had to carry you out of brunch with your university friends, and that's not even bottomless. Part of him thinks you’re remaining sober for your own vigilance, which makes him happy that you aren’t so reckless to get drunk in an unfamiliar setting around a lot of people you don’t know.

As the night progresses, Heeseung's gaze remains fixed on you from his position against the wall. He observes the way you interact with your friends, the genuine joy evident in your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes. Seeing you light up like this is a rarity, but it warms something inside him to witness you truly enjoying yourself.

Despite his reservations and occasional frustrations, Heeseung takes his role of keeping you safe very seriously. The thought of anything happening to you weighs heavily on his mind, not just because of the potential consequences from your father, but because he has come to genuinely care about your well-being. It's a realisation that surprises even him, how much he's come to feel responsible for you beyond just fulfilling his duties as a bodyguard.

Day by day, Heeseung finds himself spending more time in your presence. Even when he should be stationed at the front door, he often finds himself drawn to your side, whether it's watching TV shows together or cooking dinner. Sure, these moments are often punctuated by arguments over his choice of shows or the random spices he adds to your meals, but they keep things interesting, injecting a sense of spontaneity into his otherwise regimented routine.

And truth be told, he finds a strange satisfaction in winding you up, relishing the sight of the vein in your forehead protruding whenever you're exasperated with him. Despite the occasional clashes, there's an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a dynamic that keeps him on his toes and reminds him that guarding you isn't just a job - it's become a massive part of his life.

Recently, he has become extra protective over you, the incident at the Prada store being a prime example. Men like Woobin are not the ones he should be protecting you from, but he can’t help it, you’re too precious to be led off by the likes of him.

Shaking his head, he disregards his last thought. You’re not precious, you’re a princess, a snooty diva with an attitude problem.

This is what he has to tell himself every day.

He watches you go up to the bar and sit on the stool as you order another drink, but his attention shifts to a familiar face in the crowd. Woobin - and he is walking straight for you. Like he hasn’t dealt with him enough today, it was almost as if thinking about him that manifested him straight into your lap.

As Woobin twists the stool you're sitting on to face him, Heeseung's grip on the empty cup tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain his composure. He knows he can't just stride over there like he did at the store; he crossed a line then, kissing your neck was too far, and biting down on you to mark you was too far. But the possessive feeling that had simmered earlier resurfaces as he watches Woobin casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His mind races with a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here.

But as he watches Woobin's hand graze your leg, Heeseung's resolve crumbles.

"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, his anger boiling over as he pushes himself off the wall and throws his cup away. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for you, determined to put an end to this unwanted intrusion.

You suddenly feel Heeseung's chest press against your back, his presence feels overpowering, his aura dark and intense. You glance at Woobin and notice the fear flicker back into his eyes, just like before, as Heeseung speaks with a menacing tone, "Have you got a death wish or something, mate?" His question hangs in the air, a clear warning.

Woobin takes a step back, but despite the quiver in his pupils, he refuses to back down. "She obviously isn't satisfied with you," he retorts, attempting to sound tough. "She hasn't even tried to bat me off."

You scrunch your face in disbelief at Woobin's audacity. His attempt to turn the situation on you is off-putting, and any attraction you may have felt towards him suddenly dissipates.

Heeseung's gaze shifts down to you, his eyes hooded as he leans in close. "Is that true, baby girl? Do I not satisfy you?" His words send a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can form a response, he leans even closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You better agree with me, or else I'll punch his lights out, right here, right now."

His threat hangs in the air, leaving you feeling torn between conflicting emotions. As you struggle to find the right words, Heeseung's lips graze the skin of your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation through you. You're unsure whether he's doing this to turn your mind to mush so you can do nothing but agree with him or assert his dominance over Woobin, who watches with a flushed neck, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's display of possessiveness.

Nodding slowly, you side-eye Heeseung, “Y-you do,” you say quietly but as he bites down on your ear and you yelp, you speak up a bit more confidently, “You do satisfy me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, placing one final kiss on your ear, “You heard her, so get the fuck away from her, or I will throw your body in the loch and no one will even care to look for you,” he challenges Woobin, threatening him like some gangster.

As Woobin backs up and mutters ‘This is not fucking worth it’, Heeseung smiles triumphantly, knowing he’s scared him off for good. Heeseung fixes your hair, gathering it all to sit nicely at the back, running his fingers through it as he silently warns any other men in the club that you’re no one but his.

You hate to admit it, but it turns you on a little.

But your responsible head twists back on and you understand what Heeseung has done again, “Heeseung,” you slap his chest and push him away, “Stop fucking babying me!” Standing up from the stool, you weave through the people at the club in search of the exit, Heeseung’s antics finally pushing you too far. 

"I am doing my job, Y/N," he shouts over the chatter and music, his voice barely audible amidst the din of the club.

"No, you aren't. That is not your job," you retort, your voice rising above the noise. "Pretending to be my boyfriend and scaring away potential fucks is not part of the remit!"

Your words hang in the air, heavy with frustration and disappointment. You push him away one more time, creating some distance between you before storming out of the club.

Fuming with anger and adrenaline, you make your way through the car park, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you resents Heeseung for his overbearing behaviour, but another part can't deny the thrill you felt with his protective display. It's infuriating to admit, but the feeling of his possessiveness is sending shivers straight down south, You hate that you're even thinking like this.

His touch on your ear and neck lingers in your mind, igniting a whirlwind of desire and confusion. You're not thinking straight anymore, and if Heeseung catches up to you, you're not sure how you'll react - whether it'll be pure anger or pure lust.

Either way, you need to get this steam out. 

“Y/N! Get back here right now!” he shouts, pushing past the men who are ogling your figure. 

As you hear his voice, something takes over you. You pull the first guy you see into a kiss, holding onto this jacket as your mouth moves against his.

Heeseung sees red, blood red as he watches you kiss the stranger. It’s reckless behaviour, your lips moving roughly against a guy probably twice your age but, of course, the guy doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around you to bring you in closer. That gesture shakes Heeseung from his shock coma, his emotions fueling him.

But Heeseung can't stand idly by any longer. With a guttural growl, he yanks the man away from you, his anger propelling him into action. He delivers a punishing punch to the man's face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground, sprawled across the gravel of the car park.

Heeseung doesn't stop there. He delivers a few more swift kicks to the man's prone form before turning his attention to you. Grabbing your arm with bruised hands, he hauls you towards the car, his grip tight and unforgiving.

"You're so fucking irresponsible," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. The veins in his neck bulge with the intensity of his anger, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

“Sorry if I want to have some fun,” you argue back, trying your hardest to release yourself from his firm hold.

As you both approach your car, he opens the door and shoves you in, “And kissing and fucking random guys is fun?” he slams the door behind you once he knows all your limbs are inside the vehicle.

Striding over to the driver's seat, he gets in quickly, locking the doors so you can’t make a quick escape. You don’t even attempt to try and flee, already knowing you’re only going to end up in a game of cat and mouse all night, and in this weather with your dress isn’t fun. 

“I’m 20 years old, nearly 21, I can fuck if I want to,” you shout back, slamming your hand on the backrest to hammer home your point. You are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions, Heeseung is only there to make sure you don’t end up getting kidnapped or whatever it is your dad thinks will happen to you.

"It's not wanting to fuck that is my problem, it's who you want to fuck," he growls, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You want to slap him, angry that he doesn’t seem to get it, “I don’t get to fuck anyone thanks to you,” you retort back with venom laced in your voice.

His entire body turns to face you, his gaze piercing through you as he asks, "You want to get fucked?"

“Yes! Obviously!”

Heeseung lunges towards you, pressing his lips to yours in a matter of seconds to your answer. At first, you’re confused at what is happening, the unfamiliar feeling of his mouth melting into yours causes your head to thump.

But as he moves you to lay back, flicking the seat to recline all the way back, you find yourself chasing his body with yours, your lips like magnets as they draw themselves back to his. He tastes sweet, not like how you expected, you were presuming it’s the flavour of his vape he swears he doesn’t use.

Shuffling your way up the seat, you spread your legs so he can situate himself neatly in between you, knees resting against the edge of the seat for support, his hands roaming all over your body and his kisses never faltering. 

He was hungry for you, those tiny tastes of your neck served as appetisers before the main meal which was your mouth and tongue. Roughly, he brings one of his palms to cover your throat as squeezes, the consequential parting of your lips as you gasp gives him access to lick into your mouth. The grip on your throat is heavenly, just tight enough to make your brain go fuzzy but not to the point you think you’re in danger.

With a quick roll of his hips, you feel the outline of his cock being pushed onto your core, even through jeans he’s prominent, only building up your anticipation more. He does this a few times, each time the rough edges of his zipper rub your barely covered clit, eliciting a moan from you.

Heeseung's smirk widens at your response, his gaze flickering with desire as he watches the desperation in your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeats his question, this time with less anger and more longing. "You want to get fucked?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your desire for him burning hotter than ever before. "Yes, please, Heeseung," you whimper, using your hands to hold his hips against yours as you rut yourself desperately against him, humping his length through his jeans. 

Heeseung almost feels bad for you, clearly, he underestimated how much you needed to seek release. No wonder you were willing to entertain someone like Woobin. He had to make this worth the frustration he has been causing you.

The pressure of Heeseung's hand around your throat tightens, eliciting a gasp from your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, "You sure you want to fuck a guy like me?" he hisses, his voice tinged with both agitation and desire, the intensity of his gaze burning into yours.

Despite the lack of air, you manage to choke out your response, your voice laced with desperation, "Yes, Heeseung, I need you."

A smug smirk plays across Heeseung's lips at your admission, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, I know you need me, Sweetheart," he replies, his tone dripping with confidence. "You're staining my jeans as we speak." His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through you.

But then his question cuts through the haze of desire, forcing you to confront the reality of the situation, "I'm asking if you want to go back to little Woobin now?" he taunts, knowing full well the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it.

With a shake of your head, you release your hold on his hips and begin to unbutton his jeans, determination blazing in your eyes. "No," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I only want you."

“Thought so,” he kisses you again before releasing your throat, focusing his hand's attention on ridding you of your pants while you work to get his trousers out of the way. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to his side of the car before lining himself up at your hole.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you try to push him to slip into you, but he keeps his hips rigid, only making you look more desperate for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, each time it slaps down, he echoes it with a tut.

“You don’t even know if I’ll fit,” his voice whispering in your ear as he licks the shell of it, “All those preppy rich boy cocks aren’t anything like mine,” he takes your wrist in his hand and guides you to feel his length as it sits neatly in your folds, “See?”

Whining, you pout, knowing he’s just teasing you for badness, “I promise I can handle it,” you say lowly, pumping his cock between your cunt and hand. The motion makes Heeseung hiss in pleasure, the feeling of his cock trapped only adding to his anticipation of being inside you.

He moves in for a chaste kiss on your lips, his touch soft despite the intense need between you, "I'll go slow," he tells you, his words a balm in the midst of the intense moment. Even in the heat of passion, Heeseung is driven by his instinct to protect you.

With one swift movement, he slides into your heat slowly, letting you stretch around him. Surprisingly to both of you, your pussy is accommodating him perfectly, the stretch a little painful but not unbearable. He shallowly moves his hips back and forth, watching his cock disappear into you further and further each time until he’s bottoming out and tapping your cervix lightly.

Heeseung isn't wrong when he tells you that no other cock you've had can compare to his. Every curve and ridge of his dick seems perfectly designed to hit every sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an otherworldly sensation, the way he gains traction with each movement, his confidence growing as he senses your comfort and willingness to take more.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he murmurs between kisses.

Lost in the throes of passion, you cling to Heeseung, your bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as you lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you completely. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Heeseung's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matches your own. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they trace the contours of your skin. The pads of his fingers roughly grab your tit that’s managed to escape your dress, twisting your nipple between his finger and thumb.

Your hands are in a similar position, running along his toned stomach under his shirt, trying to commit it to memory, just in case you never get to do this again. You wish this was happening with zero clothes in the way but the desperation between you both got in the way. 

As the intensity of your desire builds, Heeseung's movements become more urgent, his thrusts growing deeper and more powerful with each passing moment. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the promise of release looming on the horizon like a distant storm.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I won’t last much longer,” he admits, knowing that he’s close to the edge himself.

“Need it, I need you to cum,” you moan loudly, your hand leaving his skin to find your clit, rubbing it vigorously as you try and speed along your orgasm.

Your words drive Heeseung to pound into you faster, willing both of you to come undone together. The car shakes as you both speed up your movements, your hips trying to match his rhythm to create a deeper impact with each buck of his hips.

With a final, desperate thrust, Heeseung drives you both over the edge, sending you spiralling into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under him, the ropes of his cum coating your heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his cock swell and throb inside of you, “Cum with me, Y/N. Please.”

Circling your arms around his shoulders, you hug him close to you as his body shivers, still reeling from the aftermath of his climax. You lay like that for a few minutes, processing everything that just transpired between you both.

“Are you okay?” he asks, holding himself up to face you, one hand wiping your sweaty bangs from your forehead.

Nodding, you shut your eyes, massaging his shoulders lightly as you let bliss take over you, “I feel great,” you smile.

Heeseung grabs your pants from the driver seat and bundles them up, using them as a makeshift cloth to clean you up, spitting on them before running them along your swollen cunt, “We can’t do this ever again,” he says quietly, his breathing starting to regulate again.

“What do you mean?” you lean on your elbows, looking up at him with confusion, “Was it not okay?”

Of course, it was okay, Heeseung thinks your pussy might be the best he’s ever had, but it’s not logical to try and keep this fantasy alive. You were too different, this encounter was fueled by anger and rage between you both, hardly the start of a picture-perfect relationship.

He discards your underwear and pulls his own bottoms up, tucking his softening cock into his boxers and jeans, “It was great, but I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you,” he says, shuffling back into his seat, starting the car.

“We’ll use protection next time,” you shrug, fixing your seat to sit upright, “It’s no big deal.”

Heeseung sighs, his frustration evident as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. "You know that's not what I mean, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.

The rest of the drive home is filled with silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Heeseung's thoughts swirl with the fear of losing his job, the guilt of failing to protect you, and the sudden need to be inside you all the time.

“We forget about this, okay?” he asks, eyes flickering to you.

You nod in agreement, but a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips, betraying your true thoughts. Deep down, you know that you won’t forget about it, and this will certainly not be the last time you find yourself fucking Lee Heeseung - You'll make sure of it.

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

[5sospenguinqueen]

American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him. 

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that 

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame 

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week??? 

→ user5 the universe is aligning 

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot  liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!! 

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude! 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming.  (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :( 

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

 williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time? 

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted! 

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone 

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices 

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type 

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon 

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle 

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me! 

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that 

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday 

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked 

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend 

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything 

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay! 

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby 

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter 

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant 

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one 

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl 

→ landonorris ha! 

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo! 

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that 

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies 

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

[pathologicalreid]

a special occasion | S.R.

moving your daughter into a toddler bed brings about some interesting conversation

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, the f word, talks about having another baby but not necessarily suggestive, extremely accurate emily prentiss characterization word count: 1.36k a/n: this is the spencer reid dilf agenda: father's day edition! this entire fic was born from a headcanon that spencer is stupid good at building ikea furniture. also, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't have to read that fic to know what's happening here. it's just easier than making/naming a new baby every time.

“Emily started trying to teach her to swear,” Spencer told you, pulling a bag of screws out of the cardboard box splayed on the floor in your toddler’s room.

While he started to check whether or not all of the pieces were there, your eyes followed your daughter as she ran around the room, pulling each toy out of her toy box and setting it on the other side of the room. “I think we should consider ourselves lucky that Em waited until she was two to start her campaign,” you responded, thanking your daughter as she handed you a baby doll.

The crib had already been taken apart and was ready to be stored in the basement, and the pieces that were organized on the floor would eventually create a toddler bed. Right now, the floor was just covered in wood and screws – tiny pieces that set your mom instincts on high alert. Looking at the pieces, Spencer raised his head, “Hey, Nellie, can you hand me that screwdriver?” He asked your toddler, pointing at the screwdriver on the floor for her to grab.

You tried to hide your smile as Eleanor picked up the wrench from the floor and proudly presented it to her father. He thanked her, and as she toddled back to her toy box, you slyly passed the screwdriver to your husband. “Welcome,” she said softly, “welcome, welcome, welcome,” she echoed.

After reading about how important it was to involve your toddler in setting up their big kid bed, you and Spencer set out to include Nellie in every step. She picked the bed frame, the sheets, and everything she could possibly need for the bed. “Did you tell Emily not to teach her swear words?”

“Of course I did, but I’m pretty sure she started up again when I left the room,” he informed you, using the screwdriver to attach two pieces of the base together.

Humming, you glanced over to Eleanor, “I’d have thought Derek would be the one to start it,” you muttered, watching as she ducked her entire head in the toy box, obviously looking for a particular toy.

Spencer continued working on putting the pieces together, faltering in his movements as Nell made her way back to where the two of you were sitting. She made her way around the bed parts and unceremoniously sat down next to her father, her pigtails – his handiwork – bouncing as she plopped to the ground. “Hi princess,” he greeted, taking a moment to hug her into his side before returning to his construction work.

Eleanor happily waved the wooden hammer she had retrieved from the toy box in the air, “Help daddy,” she offered giddily, kicking her feet as she watched him complete another step in the process.

“Here, can you hammer this right here?” He asked her, pointing to the part he had just fastened, having her hammer at the screw – she was none the wiser. “Good job,” he praised her before reaching over for the next piece.

Furrowing your brow, you watched him work as Nell hammered at the carpet in front of her, “You’re not even reading the instructions.”

He shrugged, “I looked at them before I started, but I don’t need them,” he said casually, adjusting his arm as Eleanor leaned into him.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t tell me you can just visualize the way the pieces go together in your giant brain.”

“Okay,” he answered simply, a small smirk sprouting on his face, “I won’t tell you that.”

Groaning, you laid back on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling, “I have been building furniture for years and you’re telling me I could’ve just handed it off to you?” Every bookshelf you had put together while he was off on a case, you could’ve just saved it for him.

Nellie had started creating a song about her love of hammers, continuing to hammer at the floor. “Oh, hey, be careful,” Spencer said gently, “those screws are sharp,” he told her.

Your head snapped up to see her reaching out for the pile of screws on the floor, and Spencer was doing his best to redirect her to the bolts. “Sharp,” she echoed solemnly, leaning back and holding her hammer with both hands.

“Can you say hammer?” You asked, pointing to the apparatus in her hand.

Holding it up proudly, she gave you a toothy grin, “Hammer!” She fumbled over her “r” sound, but Spencer assured you that it was a skill that she had plenty of time to develop.

As Spencer finished putting the bed together, you continued asking Eleanor to name the bits and bobs around her bedroom. “You’re so smart, lovebug. You get your brains from your daddy,” you told her.

“But you’re pretty like your mama,” he instantly responded, not even looking up from what he was doing to talk you up to your daughter – as if the two of them didn’t have the same big, brown eyes.

You pulled yourself up to a sitting position, smiling as Nell stood up and walked over to you, “Mama,” she said, turning around and taking a seat in your lap. “Bed?” She asked, looking over at the spot where her crib used to reside.

Switching from the screwdriver to a hex key, Spencer smiled at the two of you, “Almost,” he answered.

Gently dropping a kiss on the top of her head, you smiled fondly down at your toddler, “Do you remember picking your new bed out?” You asked while you pointed at the frame your husband was nearly finished with and the pile of fresh sheets she had chosen.

Nodding slowly, Nellie watched Spencer place the mattress on the bed frame before inviting her to come try it out. He reached out his hand for her, and she took his index finger in her tiny hand before he helped her up on the bed, “What do you think Nellie?” He asked, straightening out her ladybug overalls from where they were getting twisted up.

“Big,” she answered, releasing her hold on his finger and laying down on the mattress. You checked the time on your phone to make sure she wasn’t missing a nap.

Spencer stood up, picking her up as he did so, he held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You started climbing out of your crib every night, so you got to upgrade to a big girl bed,” he explained to her. You shuffled over to grab the sheets and start making the bed. “Alright, did Aunt Emily teach you a new word last night?”

From the way she smiled at him, you knew the answer to the question and that she had been informed that Emily would get in trouble for teaching her the word, “Fuck!”

Clamping your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing, you heard your husband sigh behind you, “Did Aunt Emily tell you that you shouldn’t say that?”

“Speshul cay-shun,” she sounded out the answer as he let her down, she went back to the bed that you had just finished making. You helped her up on the bed and she proceeded to lay down on the comforter, patterned with multi-colored flowers.

While she explored her new bed, you stood next to your husband, “Shame we have no use for the crib anymore,” he murmured to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to look at him, “Oh, you are fishing right now, Spencer Reid.” You were half joking, half scolding as you beamed up at him.

Spencer placed both of his hands on either side of your waist, “I am merely stating a fact,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Pointedly, stating a fact,” you corrected him, “It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Fuck,” a small voice said from behind the both of you, causing your head to snap back to your daughter, who was now making snow angels on her new bed.

You cringed slightly, “Maybe we’ll revisit after we solve this issue.”

He looked fondly over at the toddler, “You have to admit, it is a special occasion.”

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐾𝐼𝑆𝑆 𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝐼’𝑀 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝐸.

꒰ armin takes his pretty girlfriend on a picnic in an enchanted forest.꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 1.4k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, established relationship, sub / dom, profanity, pet names, unprotected penetrative sex, we’re in luvvv, outside indecency, love bites, praise, kinda shy reader, smoking, kreampie, minors aren’t welcomed ! reblogs + comments are appreciated! <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . this been in the drafts since 2022 y’all. a lil sum.

a pastel baby blue dress clings tight to your smooth skin, looking like the prettiest cottage core girl. frills on the shoulders and bust sitting low to accentuate your perky chest. love handles and tummy pudge swallowed by the soft material. armin couldn't keep his eyes, or hands, to himself. rubbing all up on you throughout your entire picnic date. fresh air blows through the trees and the bright views of sunlight beam across the blue lake where pure white doves swam in silence. armin had found this mythical location by driving around one day. it's quiet and reserved, deep into an enchanted forest.

the two of you sat on a blanket sprawled out on the grass, enjoying the food armin neatly packed. lots of fruits because you loved them. strawberries, raspberries, pomegranates, green grapes, apricots, and peaches . . . you name it. overdoing it just a bit, but he knows it’ll be eaten by this week. this was breakfast, the time now around eleven in the morning, so while you got ready he prepped the food. heart shaped pancakes, waffles, turkey bacon, pork sausage, scrambled cheese eggs and of course never forgetting your orange juice.

to make it cuter he brought a glass vase and filled it with water and multicolor roses he bought from the flower shop. you ate so much food your stomach bloated, unable to eat anymore. armin lays on his back with you to stare up at the sky and watch the trees blow, the weather perfect for the occasion. the sun hitting your skin serenely. you rest your head on armin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as he massages your back in gentle circles, nearly falling asleep because you’re so at peace.

“i’m so glad we did this,” a yawn escapes as you smile sweetly at him, rubbing his stomach over his white tee.

armin presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering it before mumbling, “me too.” soon, digging into his jean pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. tapping the plastic box to release a stick. your body moves with the forearm he brings together to light his cig, flicking the lighter twice and satiating his need.

“i needed a break from life. so, thank you, love.” the softness in your voice makes the man's heart beat twice as fast. he smiles at you after turning his head the opposite way to blow out smoke, knowing you hated it in your face. being at close proximity right now was less irritating since you're elated at the moment. you could care less because he's comfortable, and it makes you feel the same. you could never get him to quit no matter how hard you tried. never argued with him about it. minor debates but he gave valid points so you laid off it.

“i figured it'd be nice to escape for the day. it's upsetting we have to return to reality tomorrow. but when i'm with you, it always feels . . . free.”

armin brushes a curved knuckle over your cheekbone, your eyes glued to his own.

“i feel the same way.”

“i say i love you all the time. but do you really understand it? how deep it is?”

you curl your lips inward, pondering on his question. more like a statement.

“i know you love me. you show it more ways than one. i think that's meaningful overall.”

fluffy blond hair with gold hues covers his angelic baby blue eyes, reaching up to tuck some of the wavy ringlets behind his ear.

“tell me you love me, then gimme a kiss.”

your face grows hot from his demand, growing nervous. you sit up briefly to grab a peach to bite into and distract yourself, more like hide your face because you were smiling so hard. this happens to be the second time since he's first told you he loved you. it makes you shy even still, the rush of heat coming to your cheeks from the intense glare he gives you, waiting for you to say it. you don't know why it felt so hard to utter. it's clear you love him, but maybe it was the large commitment of the word . . . the vulnerability, the devotion, the forever tie that scared you.

"tell me you love me, or i'll make you say it, ꒰♡꒱ ."

and make you he does.

his breath is warm on your neck, tongue following to lick a bold stripe over your skin with his fingers indented into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw. your face is upturned, head resting on his shoulder, back to his chest as you rely on his body for your balance. your thighs are spread wide, holding yourself open with your unoccupied hand, gripping under the bend of your knees, whimpering in the breezy air as his hips interact with the round of your ass, fucking you from the side fervidly. his moans are light, dancing in your ear while you claw into the picnic blanket beneath you two, clutching the grass and dirt in the wake. tuning into the lewd interaction of his heavy dick pounding into you, tits bouncing out of the enclosure of your dress.

“i can’t hear you, ꒰♡꒱,” armin grits his teeth, his lips on your jaw now, kissing away and grunting as he raises his hips to fuck you deeper, thrusts steady but rough. you’re feeling dizzy, whining from the baritone of his voice. “i didn’t make myself clear enough?”

“n-no. . . ar—min. mmph,” while denying, there’s a crack in your voice as you try your best to speak, moans rumbling in your throat, your tummy jiggling from his harsh pace.

“then tell me, tell me,” armin’s voice is a whispered plead, his jeans to his knees and his shirt pulled up to his midsection, skin scorching against your own.

you’re soft, and small. his big hand with veins protruding goes from your face to your chest, tweaking your nipples that spilled out of it’s cups alluringly, before spanking them with the pads of his fingers. tweak, spank, tweak, spank. it’s a notion that has you drooling, and sobbing pathetically. he’s trying to upkeep his composure, trying not to bottom out and lose his sanity. you’re too cute.

“i love youuu,” you finally cry out, ragged moans falling out in shorts gasps, tears coaxing and the pressure in your tummy building.

“fuck, there you go, sweetie,” his excitement shows through the way his dick slips out of you, both of you gasping from the loss until he slaps your clit with his dick, your juices sputtering out of you with each wet pat pat pat. armin draws his hips back slightly before sliding back inside easily, digging his fingers into the back of your thigh you held up and rolled his waist to fuck you harder.

each pound is harder than the previous, his jaw widening as he chokes on his moans and catches your throat with his mouth, tongue lolling out occasionally and his teeth following suit. your head is tossed back entirely, his arm going around your shoulder to cradle you, falling back on the ground. your thighs press tightly together, and you hold onto his arm while his middle and ring fingers thrum intricately over your puffy clit to watch her squirt.

armin hisses with skaken moan. “say it again, ꒰♡꒱.”

“i love you, armin.”

“again,” he’s biting at your neck again, your mouth agape from the combination of that and the head of his dick kissing your sweet spot.

“b-baby, g-god. i love you.”

“ooh, shit,” armin then pushes your left thigh flat to the ground, your body twisted as he goes to level himself above you in push up form, dropping his dick into you with steady, hard pounds. his voice grows weak, moans whiny as he cums deep inside of you, and you follow not long after, squeaking and clutching onto his wrist planted by your head. the softness of your ass bouncing back onto his hips is entrancing. his ass flexing when he grinds into your pussy.

“oh my god,” those pretty strands of blond sway in front of his face, giggling and lowering his body to rest his chest on your side. repeatedly leaving kisses to your flushed cheeks, neck, even your forehead. unable to move at all.

“i really love you, i swear,” the pads of your fingers brush over his pink lips, overly sensitive at the moment so you definitely felt like crying. a high pitched hiccup interrupts the moment, and that only makes armin roll his lips inward before bursting out a laugh.

“you’re so cute,” he gives you an eskimo kiss before smooching your lips. “i know you do.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life. 🫧🍓

[tojisun]

currently obsessed with biker!simon!!!! how do you think he and reader met? i think, whatever the situation was, he was the one that couldn't get his eyes off her and started to bluntly stare??? maybe soap was with him and laughed bc he had never saw him get this serious about any girl he had laid his eyes on 😫😫😫😫

BAE I WENT FERAL WHEN I READ THIS BECAUSE YEAH!!! YEAH

ok so this is gonna be ridiculous but bear with me because im actually so obsessed with biker!simon im unwell

simon prefers using his bike whenever he’s out with his friends. there’s no use taking his car, anyway. not with kyle hitching a ride with john, and johnny taking his own car on the few occasions that he does bring someone home with him.

simon’s never had to take those things into account because he preferred a quiet end to his nights, anyway. just a shot of bourbon and a short dinner with his friends, and then he’s back on the road and on his way home.

so he’s never had regrets with taking his bike. until today, of course.

he’s noticed you since you walked into the bar with your friends, your arm hooked around one of them and your head tilted to hear them better. the others who are not engaged in a discussion with you whipped their heads around to find an empty booth and simon almost crushed his glass at the way his heart leapt when he realized that the closest empty booth in the place was the one directly beside his group’s. 

simon watched as your group moved closer, the chatter finally piercing his ears and, unconsciously, his body turned to hear you better. from in front of him, johnny’s pinched lips finally wobbled as he wheezed out a laugh, breaking simon’s focus.

“what?” simon barked out, feeling warmth creep up from his neck to his ears, half of his mind focused on the group settling behind him. 

“holy shit,” johnny said mid-laughter. “you don’t know anythin’ about subtlety.”

simon grumbled then, in denial, but now he just fully stopped caring.

somehow, as the night progressed, simon gravitated towards the seat facing yours, a spot where he had a clear vantage view of you. he’s taken advantage of the change in seating, devouring the sight you make as you giggled with your friends. devouring the change in atmosphere, now that you’ve begun to return his heated looks.

it started with curious looks, born from your friend whispering to you how simon was staring; how, throughout the night, he did not entertain all those who went up beside him and focused only on you. then your gaze shifted into something scalding. something that sent liquid fire warming simon from the pit of his stomach to the back of his spine.

mactavish sighs beside him. “just buy the lass a drink already.”

simon peels his eyes away from you to look at johnny, mulling over the suggestion before grunting out a thanks. he stands up and walks to the bar, calling out to get the bartender’s attention.

remembering the bellini that you’ve been nursing since you got here, simon asks for another flute of the cocktail and requests that it be served to you. he turns when he says this, hoping to give the bartender a clear view of who the bellini is for only to blink in surprise when he sees you standing just a few feet away from him.

“sir?” the man behind the counter asks.

“sorry. just serve it here,” simon replies, his eyes still on you. there is shuffling behind him, the bartender probably leaving to whip up his order, but simon honestly doesn’t care anymore.

not when you finally shuffle close, a shy smile dancing on your lips.

“hello,” you greet, voice a hesitant whisper, and simon feels like he’s been gutted.

you’re so goddamn beautiful, it’s catastrophic. 

simon thinks of how short you are, something he’s first noticed the moment you walked into the bar. it’s not like he’s surprised by the realization given that he tends to tower over anyone ever since he hit his growth spurt, but there is something unfurling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes how perfectly you fit in his arms. how easy it would be to just tuck you underneath his chin and slot himself around you. 

“hey,” he finally replies, his eyes roving along your features, trying to memorize the shimmer of your lips. the long wisps of your lashes. “‘m simon.”

you giggle, introducing yourself shyly, and the sound of your laughter tickles his ears, making him weak to his knees. he mouths your name, testing it out for himself and preening when it rolls off his tongue with ease. like your name is something simon is supposed to always call. 

his new favourite word.

“sorry,” you say, lifting your hand like you want to reach out and touch him, only for you to snuff out the action in your anxiousness. “i don’t, uh, come up to people i find attractive so this is really making me nervous.”

simon is aware of how good he looks – he’s proud of it even – but there is something about a pretty darling like you admitting how his looks make you nervous that sparks the desire in him to transform into something more carnal.

something more visceral.

he reaches his hand out toward you, inviting you to finally close the remaining distance between you two, and smiles when you take the offer, placing your hand on top of his palm, sending goosebumps to rise across his skin. you step into his space and simon has to stop himself from breathing you in, afraid how he’ll end up reacting when he’s taken a whiff of your intoxicating scent. 

“i’ve ordered you a drink,” simon whispers, his voice a hoarse croak.

“oh,” you mumble. “thank you...”

he notes the hesitation in your words, the bubble in his chest popping as his worry extinguishes his burning desire. “you don’t have to drink it.”

“no!” 

he startles at your reaction, his wide eyes staring back at your equally shocked ones. 

it takes a heartbeat before the two of you are breaking off into choked laughter, your body angled to muffle your giggles on the sleeves of his sweater. simon’s heart clenches at the cute display and he curls his arms around you, pulling you close until your head is pressed on his chest.

he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

it takes a while for the laughter to fizzle out, leaving you putty in his arms, your chin digging into his chest as you gaze up at him. simon eagerly returns your stare, his lips stretched into the softest of smiles now that he has you in his arms. he brushes your hair away from your face, warmth exploding in his chest at your happy little sigh.

“wanna leave this place with you,” you tell him and simon trembles with need. 

because he wants you to come home with him too. wants to show you how a sweetheart like you deserves to be treated. how you deserve to be cherished and pampered and revered. 

then, he remembers his goddamn harley. 

fuck. 

wait. now that he thinks about it-

“is there something wrong?” you ask, face creasing in worry at seeing his frown. 

“don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” simon replies, his mind already mapping out the roads to his place. “lemme just grab my keys while you drink up, yeah?”

you nod softly, eyes fluttering close when simon leans forward to press his lips on the top of your head, before stepping away from your warmth. he watches the way you ambled towards the bar counter, carefully picking up your new flute of bellini before turning to show him that adorable little smile that simon’s starting to be addicted to and taking a small sip of your cocktail.

the wrap of your pretty lips around the straw shouldn’t stir something so carnal in him but it does and simon gulps, well aware of the sudden thirst that sucked the moisture from his throat, before turning to march towards his table.

johnny whistles out loud when simon reaches them, tipping his new glass of beer and whooping even when kyle growls how he’s being too loud. simon would’ve sided with garrick, but his patience is running thin and the need that is raging within him is gaining strength so he ignores them both to stand beside johnny.

“keys.”

“what?”

“mactavish, give me your keys.”

“...why?”

simon holds in a sigh as he watches kyle reach over to smack johnny on the back of his head. “what the hell do you think?” 

john continues to ignore the group, his eyes trained somewhere on the dance floor. traitor, simon thinks. 

“oh,” johnny whispers. “oh!” 

he tries not to tap his foot as johnny grapples with his trousers, hitting his elbows on the edge of the table and angrily cursing in scottish, before finally fishing them out of the depths of his pockets and presenting them to simon. simon takes them with urgency, almost ripping them from johnny’s fingers, before throwing the keys of his harley to johnny and barking out his thanks.

“use protection!” johnny screams because of course he would. he’s a fucking bastard.

simon flips him off as he marches back towards you. 

you look up at hearing him call your name, your beautiful face glowing as you smile at him again.

god, he’ll never tire of seeing your pretty smile.

“ready?” he asks, masking the excitable tremble of his voice with a quick cough.

“mhmm!” you reply, putting down your half-empty cocktail and clambering beside simon’s side. he presses another kiss on the top of your head, this time no longer holding back as he breathes you in, and leads you out towards johnny’s car.

next time, he’ll take you out for a bike ride. 

because simon promises that there will be a next time.

starting to think if i might need a masterlist for biker!simon atp // edit: mlist!

[endlessthxxghts]

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | notifs blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town. 

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason. 

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you. 

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction. 

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.” 

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you. 

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up. 

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you. 

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of. 

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you. 

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts. 

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements. 

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter. 

“I said—” 

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm. 

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you. 

Well, apparently not everyone. 

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back. 

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips. 

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him. 

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines. 

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him. 

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life. 

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.” 

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you. 

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take. 

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now. 

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom. 

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming. 

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless. 

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself. 

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking. 

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered. 

Fuck. 

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you. 

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?” 

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. 

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure. 

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries. 

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here. 

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps. 

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it. 

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him. 

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to. 

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout. 

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him. 

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you. 

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming. 

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze. 

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again. 

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend. 

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces. 

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest. 

“For what, baby?�� Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks. 

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?” 

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)