#but he came out-- n i cannot stress enough -- SO PRETTY
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breaking my self-imposed schedule a lil bit to post this but i coloured the bust of Anotos' Dream Vistor from the previous sketch page, cuz he's very pretty in-game~ --
Kofi | Patreon
#the dream visitor#doodles#bg3#was in a bit of a painty mood that night n ver loosely attempted a lineless like behaviour XP#worked off memory for his colours...#.. and i think he might be even darker than this o vo;; welp#my brain did its best to recall#im lowkey-highkey obsessed with him-- he was just supposed to be some nobody who cares human#but he came out-- n i cannot stress enough -- SO PRETTY#plus the loose backstory we're giving him in connection to anotos hhnnnnn im goin feral over it
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Lavender // Tim Drake x GN! Reader
part 1. this is part 2. i just took the LSAT (law school test) feeling floored and dejected right now i cannot lie! rly just ran through writing this 😖 not proofread im sry
—
When you came to, it was Red Robin at your bedside. His hands neatly folded beneath his head as he rested it on the side of the mattress. The way his back rose and fell, and the way he was still as you shifted around indicated he was asleep. You knew little of him, but enough to know that this was a rarity, to see him in his slumber. And it softened something in you, awakening a yearning to protect this peace for him.
Memories of the previous night ran through your head again, and from what you could collect you remembered that bludgeoning feeling that accompanied his little outburst. To think you were the source of his stress, and his being here amplified that. Tense even in sleep like a guard dog at your beck and call.
But he’d forget you soon enough.
If you were honest with yourself, you held a selfish desire for this arrangement to last as long as possible for all the wrong reasons. He was kind and dependable and witty; talking was easy and secretly fawning over him was even easier. This, of course, you knew was unsustainable. You’re a job. He’s a hero in a mask.
When all is good and done and you go your separate ways, he’d find something else to stress over. Although, you hoped it wouldn’t be so taxing. You weren’t happy to be a burden, but if you were his worst then the rest would be easy to bury when you were gone. Wishful thinking, there’s always bigger fish to fry. But worse was the thought that something else could make him as upset as this.
He looked so peaceful, face resting in his palms, features angelically frozen in place. A couple of stray strands dangled between the whites of his mask, brushing against his nose as a breeze trailed in from the open bedside window. You reached forward to push them back, but as soon as your fingers brushed his locks he stirred. Your eyes widened; pulling your hand back, out of embarrassment or something other— you weren’t sure, you pretended to be interested in the birds flying by outside as he’d picked his head up off the sheets.
“Y/N?” It was a wonder you mistook him for Tim the night before, the fatigue was likely to blame. What a ridiculous mistake. Where Tim sounded gentle and fleeting, like waves lapping at the shore, Red Robin was more grounded in his speech. They were uncannily similar in their own respects, but the difference was undeniable. When Tim spoke, it was like he coaxed you into listening, when Red Robin calls your name it’s like he pulls you to him.
You turned from the window to look at him, feigning as composed of an expression as you could, as if your hand wasn’t inches from his face a couple seconds ago.
He stood, stoically brushing himself off and straightening himself, “are you feeling alright? How’s your arm?”
That’s right. You’d been shot at. You glanced at your bandaged arm, neatly wrapped and tightly bound. It honestly wasn’t so bad, it was the tranquilizers that really hit you, and the worst of that effect was long over if your sudden alertness had anything to mean by it, “fine, I almost forgot about it.”
He shook his head, arms crossed, “I don’t know, you seemed pretty shaken yesterday.”
“Was not.”
“Sorry, who was screaming crying?” The ghost of a smile danced on his lips.
Your face burned red remembering your sorry state, “you said you wouldn’t show! How was I supposed to know?”
His lips curled up into a real smile with the twinge of something like guilt hidden underneath it. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but the fact that he was smiling was enough to ease your heart. “Told you I could get in anywhere.”
The serene expression on his face reminded you of Tim. In almost every sense they were different, but something in their mannerisms aligned as if the very fabric of their nature were cut from the same cloth and tailored by someone else’s hand. And although you’d only met him once, Tim struck you as someone you really wanted to know. He was magnetizing and more importantly, things with him felt like they were easy.
“Do you know if Tim Drake got out safely?”
Red Robin nodded, “he’s fine.”
“He hid me in the first place, you know,” you smiled to yourself, “and then he went back out for his brother or something. He seems like a really good person.”
He snorted and you swore if you could see his eyes he’d be rolling them, “he should’ve taken you outside to the police or left you with a guard at least.”
You furrowed your brows, “don’t be mean.”
“Just saying,” he mumbled. “They did book tickets for you to return, the Waynes.”
“I’m not going back, I told you that.”
“At least think it over.”
“I slept on it, I’m staying.” You cut him off before he could protest, “at least until the launch. And I meant what I said, you don’t have to watch me anymore. It’s not like I remember all the files I’d read, Gotham is safe, and I have my own people. I’ll just have to keep a… lower profile.”
“You meant what you said?” You couldn’t read his expression, the mask got in the way.
“Every word.” But the way he asked the question made you want to throw in a ‘mostly’ for insurance.
“So you really like Tim Drake?”
Your face burned, immediately crossing your arms in defense. That part of the conversation conveniently slipped your mind.“You know that’s not what I meant!”
“So you don’t like Tim.” The nerve he had to smirk at you left your jaw on the floor as you stumbled for a response. As if you’d admit it twice, you didn’t even know him that well.
“Stop bullying me,” you grumbled.
He just snorted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to keep a low profile. As long as you’re here I’ll take care of you.”
You whipped your head to look at him. The last thing you needed was to be a burden to the infinitely charming, slightly annoying, masked stranger sitting in front of you.
“No way, I can handle—“
“I’ll take care of you,” he reiterated, in that frustratingly soft tone that made you forget everything else. Your resolve was by no means something weak, but you already had an inclination towards him, you knew this. And he was too tantalizing to deny, he must know this. It wasn’t fair, you had to fold.
“Thank you.”
Despite it all, you still exercised your caution. Unlike before, you were careful about announcing your whereabouts or even spending excessive time in public. He would do his job, but you would do your best to make it easier. And things were quieter, nothing happened.
A week after the altercation your schedules cleared enough for you to meet Tim for coffee. He’d reached out first but you brought up meeting, for business purposes of course. You’d arrived early, out of something like excitement or anticipation. And he was late.
“Hey, sorry traffic held me up.” Your heart sped up when you saw him walking towards the table, and you weren’t sure if it was your brain tricking you into thinking you liked him that much or if you were really that pathetic. His hair was messy in the way hair gets tousled when you change shirts, but it suited him more so than the polished, perfect look he’d worn the day of the gala.
“That’s okay,” you shook your head with as calm a smile as you could muster, “my schedule is open today. I’m not in a rush.”
He beamed at you, taking the opposite seat. “Right! What’d you order?” Tim nodded towards the cup in front of you.
“Oh, it’s—“
“Wait no let me guess.” He squinted at the cup before locking eyes with you. The cup itself wasn’t clear, but maybe he could get a sense for what it was based on the residue on the straw or something ridiculous like that. After a moment, it seemed he’d decided. He spoke with confidence, complete and certain, “a chai… dirty. Like four shots of espresso dirty, light ice, sugar free sweetener.”
And he was wrong. You burst out laughing, “What? No.”
His eyes had a tendency to smile before his lips did, you noticed. He was shocked for two seconds before laughing with you. “Was I close?”
“Not even, you order espresso with chai? Are you okay?” You scrunched your nose and shook your head just thinking about it. Not just espresso but four shots of it, he was something else.
“No, see, I’m more of a straight black coffee kind of guy.”
You had to laugh, making him stare at you with an amused confusion. First his archaic responses to emails and now this. He just looked young, but he was 40 and balding deep down inside, you knew it. “And you like reading Kafka and playing chess too?”
He tilted his head to the side in catlike curiosity, and the sunlight caught in his eyes the way it glimmers on the surface of the ocean. It wasn’t fair to compare him to a cat though, you’d supposed, he was a dog. Through and through. “How’d you know?”
When he’d gotten his coffee order (pitch black; you shuddered just thinking about it) and you’d both settled into the late morning, he suggested a walk around the city.
You were supposed to be playing things safe, sticking to quiet locations that Red Robin could clearly monitor you from. But truthfully, you hadn’t had time to see the city, nor did you want to turn down the most charming guide the place had to offer. So of course, you agreed. Red Robin was good at his job, this much would be fine.
“You know, I’m not so bad a dancer. I just hadn’t waltzed in a long time.” He’d taken you to a park in the heart of it all. It was huge, sprawling walk ways amongst rolling hills dotted with trees. Somewhere in it was a lake, he promised, so that’s where you were headed arm in arm.
“Right,”he scoffed, “I believe you.” You could’ve drowned in the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. If he wasn’t so chipper about it, you might’ve even been offended.
“It’s true!” You smacked his arm with a half hearted huff he had nerve to laugh at. After a breath, you started again, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what cologne do you wear?”
An emotion flickered across his face, going as a quickly as it came. If you’d blinked you’d have missed it, the briefest twitch of his left brow and the way his lips parted for a millisecond. Not that it meant anything to you, you could’ve imagined it, because he was back and beaming before you could push on.
“Why? Do you want it?” From seemingly nowhere, he pulled out a pocket sized atomizer and spritzed the wrist of his sweater. Tim linked his arm with yours again, before taking the cologne covered sleeve your shoulder and arm with it. The scent of that lavender vanilla washed over you again. In your head you thought they were Pavlov-ing you in some tag teamed manner. At first it was whatever, but now those gentle notes meant safety and comfort. It made you mellow. “Just hang around me more often, it’ll stick.”
“Red Robin wears the same one,” and there it was again. Except this time his face didn’t change, but you could feel the muscles the arm linked to yours tense briefly and his pace slowed by a millisecond. “I just thought it was a funny coincidence. I’ve never met anyone else that’s worn it, and I know my perfumes. You’re a fan right?”
“Oh no, not at all.” He said it too quickly and he knew it. It looked like his featured had frosted over, like a deer in headlights. Tim cleared his throat, glancing away awkwardly. “I prefer Red Hood,” he tacked on.
“Oh,” you frowned, maybe he was shy about it or maybe Red Robin yelled at him. He was displeased enough the other day. “You’re awfully similar, I think you’d get along. He’s a little meaner though. Well, not mean but like… closed off.”
“Yeah that guy sounds like he sucks,” he mumbled.
“Don’t say that.” It came out sterner than you’d intended or anticipated. You don’t know why the urge to defend your masked stalker arose so strongly within you, but you didn’t feel justified in anyone thinking anything less of him than what he was. Softening your tone, you tried again. “He cares a lot, and he tries really hard, and he’s good at what he does, and it makes a difference.”
He just stared at you. But not in a way you could decipher. He wasn’t annoyed or spiteful or anything. He just stared; mouth slightly agape and face unshakingly still.
Tim’s silence spurred on your embarrassment, maybe you’d spoken out of turn. You were suddenly very interested in the foliage, “hey, look at that… tree.”
“You’re right.” Relief flooded your body as he broke the tension, and moreso because he agreed with you. “Do you wanna go out sometime? With me?”
You slowed your steps to a halt. It came out a little out of the blue, but more importantly, “this isn’t a date?”
“I can do better than this for a first date.” And with that oh so gentle smile on his face, you were doomed to believe him.
Tim delivered, of course. He took you to a pottery house to paint your own plates and spin your own mugs; none of which were shaped very nicely by either of you, but he insisted they were gorgeous and… avant garde.
After you’d both wasted enough clay and everything was ready to be fired, he took you to a private garden with the most scenic blooms in Gotham. For a workaholic shut in, he knew an impressive amount of plant facts— at least enough to give you a guided tour of the place and tell you what each flower in the bouquet he picked for you meant.
Subsequently he’d prepared a picnic dinner under starry skies and a full moon, that he insisted he’d cooked himself. He was lying, but you wouldn’t find out until years after.
So saying yes to a second date was an easy answer. And to a third. A fourth.
Before you knew it, you were going steady, and the day of the product launch was soon approaching. You didn’t know what you’d do after. It’s not like you had everything on the files memorized, so if anyone kidnapped you for information, Gotham would be safe. But likely they’d try anyways and you couldn’t keep dragging Red Robin along on a string.
You’d grown fond of his presence though, telling him secrets or asking for advice about Timberly, and you were disappointed when he rejected your employment offer. Not that it surprised you, he had his own agenda. You weren’t scared of going long distance with Tim, he’d reassured you that the two of you could FaceTime during your 30 minute lunches and that he liked you, like really liked you. And you could believe anything out of his mouth these days. Moreso you were sad you’d miss him, well, them. One was your confidant and the other your lover; leaving felt disheartening.
“Tell me why you like me again,” you asked. You and Tim were bird watching at a local wildlife sanctuary. Even though it was a Saturday, the reserve was big (and unpopular) enough to be sparse. And the stillness of it all gave you enough room to hear yourself think and bask in the ambiance of being around him.
The truth was you didn’t know much. It was impressive how, with the lengths the two of you would talk, you learned nothing about him. Everything centered around you or the city or something other, and you couldn’t control it at all. He was enchantingly skilled at directing conversation.
“Because your eyes sparkle when you talk and your hair is shiny,” he answered.
You nudged his shoulder, making him lower the binoculars he was looking through from his eyes. “That’s not what you said last time.”
“I find new reasons every time I see you!” Handing the binoculars to you, he pointed in the distance at some vague tree. “Look there, I think it’s a blackbird.”
You peered through the lens and after some squinting to try and deliberate branches from feathers, you could see what he was talking about. “Tim that’s a crow.”
“No way,” he took the binoculars back to take another look. After a few seconds he shook his head solemnly, “it’s too small to be a crow. I’m so sorry, but you’re wrong.”
You gasped at the accusation, as if you could ever be wrong, “it’s too big to be a blackbird!” Looking for the bird again to confirm what you saw, you huffed, “its beak isn’t even—“
When you’d whipped around to tell him to look again he caught you off guard, just looking at you with the most serene smile you’d ever seen.
“Yellow,” you finished. “It’d be yellow if it was a blackbird.”
It was one of those where you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or being genuine, although neither was every far off from the other, overlapping often like the ripples fish make in a pond. In this regard, he was uncannily like Red Robin; you couldn’t tell a thing he was thinking.
A faint whistling sound pierced through the air for a moment, so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for bird song. That moment was all it took for Tim’s expression to change, barking a command for you to duck before pulling you down by your arm anyway. The dull thunk that hit the tree you were leaning on seconds later told you why.
The red tail of a dart was stuck in the trunk where your neck was seconds before. You really couldn’t catch a break. Your head snapped towards the sound of rustling leaves in the direction the dart was fired from.
“Did anything hit you?” he whispered and you shook your head. Before you could think anything else your feet were moving on their own, trying to keep up with him as he weaved through the trees, dragging you along. The grip he had on your wrist burned and under different circumstances you’d have been impressed with his agility through the rough terrain, like a third grader admiring the fastest kid in school.
Despite his talents, you weren’t so graceful and you found yourself tumbling along. In your own way you were gifted with tripping on every root, rock, and stone that littered the ground. If it weren’t for the grip on your wrist you would’ve fallen and given up at the first rock that crossed your path.
He ushered you into a small bird watching cabin before letting you go and closing the door behind him. You gripped your knees trying to catch your breath as he peeked out the windows.
“Stay low, they can shoot through the windows.” You nodded, sliding to the floor with your back to the wall. Instead of sitting beside you, Tim headed straight towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get help. You’ll be safe here,” he flashed you a reassuring smile. But before he could leave you caught his arm, shaking your head.
“Red Robin’s here, we’ll be okay. Just stay.” This you knew was true because he said he would be, and you didn’t need much more confirmation beyond that. The only thing that irked you about the whole situation was why he was so late, he’d prevented almost everything so far, but you were certain he was rushing over or taking care of it as you spoke.
To your surprise, Tim didn’t budge, looking you dead in the eye with one of those unreadable expressions again. He didn’t tear away from you or do anything intimidating, but it was in the mystery of his expression that you found yourself nervous.
“They’re not far behind. Let me go.” He spoke gently but poignantly, like goading a child. And while it was compelling, as he so often was, it didn’t make sense.
“No he’s here, it’s not safe outside!” It felt like you were begging. In all the time you’d spent together, you knew one thing for certain. Tim wasn’t stupid, and he definitely wasn’t irrational. This was something else, and he wasn’t being himself.
“Y/N.” In your head you ran through a hundred scenarios. Maybe he got hit by a dart and it made him delusional, or maybe he was a robot clone short circuting. But the plea in his voice when he called your name struck you in the same way an apology from the other night did.
He was still as you let go, reaching instead to cover his eyes with your hand. With just half his face in view, you wondered why you’d never seen it before.
“You’re him.” It was almost a whisper, you didn’t even know if he could hear it or not. But it dawned on you as all the coincidences and reconciliations aligned. All down to the cologne he wore.
“No.”He was firm, but his voice wavered. Maybe you imagined it, but nothing he could say now would change your mind. “I just want to get help.”
Gingerly, Tim pushed your hand down and you took a step back, reeling in the thought.
“You’re Red Robin.” In your own head you tried to disprove it, but it made sense. And you almost felt bad for knowing it because you never wanted to know his identity, that was always supposed to be his to keep.
“I’m a blackbird.”
“You’re a robin.”
But time wasn’t on his side. No one else was coming and the perpetrators were advancing. So without a final refute, he took a breath and reached for the door.
“I’ll be back.”
—
tags! @jedidiah1201 @a-taken-url @lara20aral @moonccakes
#tim drake fanfic#tim drake#tim drake x reader#batman#dc#red robin x reader#tim drake imagine#tim drake x gender neutral reader#tim drake fluff
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Cowboy Like Me
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader
—-
Part One - The Last Time
Part Two - Cowboy Like Me
Part Three - Tomorrow Never Came (coming soon!)
Part Four - Living Legend (coming soon!)
Part Five - Pretty When You Cry (coming soon!)
—-
synopsis: 15 years later, you’re still climbing into clarisse’s arms and knowing she’s gonna leave.
a/n: personally i love life but idk about y’all and creds to @nvirskies for helping me w bits of this 🫶
Cowboy Like Me - Taylor Swift
warnings: y’all already know what’s happening
—-
“And I… I’m scared.”
You hum, adjusting yourself in your seat so your heart doesn’t break.
“It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared all the time.”
Jane is one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever met since becoming the Camp Half-Blood therapist thing. After your traumatizing years, watching Clarisse come and go, years spent in her bed- you found yourself wanting to tell someone.
You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to feel safe, especially when she was gone.
You wanted to tell someone that you hated Clarisse La Rue’s guts and also you loved her so much you weren’t sure if you could ever get over her.
So, you became that person.
“You’re allowed to be scared, though,” Jane continues. “I can’t. I’m a daughter of Ares, Y/N. If he sniffs out weakness then he’ll never love me.”
Your conversations with Jane have by far been the hardest sessions you’ve ever had. They remind you so much of what you went through 15 years ago. Of what you watched her go through.
“And you’re human, Jane. To fear is to be human. You’ll always be part human, the same way you are part god. That’s what being a demigod is,” you smile.
“It’s just… human?” she says, nose scrunching.
“All of the emotions you feel, the ones you hate, the ones that distract you- those are the ones that come from your mortal parent. Ares cannot take those away, no matter how hard he tries.”
You let the kids spread around the rumors that this room is magical and soundproof. In reality, the Gods just don’t care enough to listen.
—-
It took a long time to get Chiron and Mr. D to see the benefits of having an actual licensed therapist at Camp. They were hesitant, but you insisted, so they gave you a one month trial. It took even longer to get someone to actually come talk to you, but after Jane blew up on one of her siblings and hurt them, she came to you.
She came to you crying, saying she hated being like this, she hated being so explosive. And it was slow, but you helped her, and now she has coping mechanisms and now the entirety of the Ares cabin and a good portion of the camp scrambles for appointments with you.
Jane always comes at 6:30 on Fridays. She eats her dinner quick and runs across camp to your office at the Big House. Sometimes she cries, sometimes she squeezes a stress ball so hard she might actually crush it, but she always talks. She always opens herself up, she learns and she grows.
After that hour, you turn around and lay in your bed, and you think about Clarisse.
You think about when she comes back, you’re not so cold anymore but your heart is frozen over. You cry, she asks you not to cry, not when she’s here. She did the impossible, she survived.
But you see it in her eyes. The thrill. She will do it again and again for him and you will be left there.
And as much as your aching heart tells you to forget about her- she’s yours. You’re hers.
She calls you baby and pretty girl even though years of stress has caused crows lines around your eyes. You are still trapped with her, like some sort of wretched mirror- except you’re gazing into another world where you’re both still young. Where you’re both still happy. Where she didn’t leave.
You think about that alternate reality a lot.
You think about it tonight.
You come to your room and you lay on your cold bed, wrap an arm around your waist and imagine the pillow under your head is her chest. It’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing to love her so much that you pretend she’s still here. It’s embarrassing that you pretend you have all the answers- the campers look up at you like you do have all the answers, but you really don’t. You know absolutely nothing. But you’re good at pretending.
The first time she visited camp she came to your room, cockily leaned against the door, and said something about how she had to meet the woman all of her younger siblings were gushing about. That night ended with her crying softly against your chest while you ran your hands through her hair.
And before, you went to colleges only an hour away from each other. When you were stressing about exams, when you got a bad grade, when the nights were cold and you missed her- you drove an hour and knocked on her door, and she let you in, into her bed, into her arms. She didn’t have let you into her heart, because you were always there.
When her roommate left for a few days for a family emergency, she asked her friends to take notes for her and drove to you. She stammered when you opened the door, tried to explain that she just couldn’t be alone, not anymore, not without you- and so she spent the next few days waiting in your room while you were at classes. You would sit in her lap while you did your homework, or she would just stand behind you at your desk and play with your hair. And you would spend your nights in her arms.
The second time she visited camp she didn’t say anything when she knocked on your door, and you just let her in. You spent the night laughing and reminiscing until you cried and she smiled sadly and asked you not to, and you tried for her, but you couldn’t. How can she expect you not to cry when she’s the one making you cry? When she’s cried herself over what happened between you?
The third, fourth, fifth, all the times she came to camp she would come to your door and sometimes you would cry, sometimes she would cry- sometimes you both would cry. Because how cruel is it to be held by the woman you love and know it’s not the girl you love? How cruel is it to know change?
—-
It’s not that you choose to love Clarisse. If you could choose, you wouldn’t love her. You would forget all about her. You dream about falling and hitting your head, waking up with a blank slate that’s untainted by her.
You don’t choose to love Clarisse.
Your skin doesn’t love her, not anymore- your cells replace every few weeks. And it’s been 2 months since she last came to camp. It’s your bones that love her. It’s something fundamental inside of you. Loving her is like moving- it takes so many little nerves and neurons to make it work- but it feels like nothing to you. Your bones love Clarisse.
And your bones surround your heart, and they trick you into loving her.
Every time she comes back you’re shocked by the way she isn’t her younger self. She’s older, there’s lines on her face, and she cut her hair a few inches shorter a few years ago. She carries herself different, partly because she’s grown and she’s learned to appreciate life a little more- she walks softer. And almost because you know she hurt her hip years ago, and you’ve spent nights kissing it and saying that she’ll be fine if she just gives it a little longer to heal.
You like to think that the reason she’s still able to go on quests and do everything she does is because of your healing touch.
But you see it sometimes, the way she walks softer, especially now after a long day. Its not that it hurts her, she’s just scared of putting a bit too much pressure on it so it does hurt her.
You watch her from the window. Smaller kids run past her, she’s listening absentmindedly to Abby James, the current counselor of the Ares cabin.
You giggle as she puts her hand on Abby’s shoulder and firmly says goodbye, pushing her off into the other direction- Abby is probably the most social Ares kid you’ve ever met. She’s a chatterbox, not in a bad or mean way, just a fact. Her long black hair swishes behind her as she turns, crossing her arms, and you’re sure you’ll be hearing about it in your next session.
You move back to the small couch- right by the door of your room. You sit there like you’re not expecting her, and you wait until you hear her footsteps up the stares to fix your hair and breathe in and out slowly.
She knocks.
“Come in,” you say, throwing your feet onto the coffee table and picking up a book about the history of psychology.
“Y/N,” she says. The door shuts behind her, she leans back against it.
“Hi, Clarisse,” you say, reduced to a child now that she’s in your presence. Now that you can look at her and see that she’s not her. “How are you?”
She snorts, walking past you and sitting in the armchair you sit in for your sessions.
“I don’t wanna play that shit tonight.”
“Hospitality?”
“Whatever you wanna call it,” she smiles, her feet touching yours on the coffee table. You feel a little breathless. You close the book, you weren’t even reading it, throwing it onto the coffee table.
She stares into your eyes.
“How have you been?”
You roll your eyes, but that just makes the tears more prominent.
“How is that any different?”
“‘Cause it’s you. ‘Cause I like hearing your voice.”
She leans back in the chair and gestures to you, so you cross your legs and sit up. You bite back the tears like a hyena with a fake laugh.
“Uh, I don’t know. The usual. All of my sessions are going good, not that I can really tell you. Why don’t I turn on some music?”
“Sure,” she says, leaning her face into her hands.
You walk past her and towards the bookshelf on the opposite wall, body screaming at the way your bare legs brush against her clothed knee.
It’s an old record player, somehow making the cut as not electronic enough to attract anything bad.
You don’t bother checking what you were last listening to. You just put the needle at the start of a song and hear the organs, the grand piano.
“I like this guy,” Clarisse says.
“Jeff Buckley,” you chuckle, smoothing down your camp t-shirt, adjusting your pajama shorts.
Looking out the door I see the rain // Fall upon the funeral mourners
You stand there for a moment longer, pretending to adjust your bookshelf, because you know you’ll start crying when you turn around and look at her.
So I’ll wait for you, love // And I’ll burn // Will I ever see your sweet return? // Oh, will I ever learn?
“Come back,” she says. She was just watching you avoid her. You could feel her eyes on you. You stiffen. “Please,” she adds, softly.
“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, wiping the tears away.
“I’m just as embarrassing then, seeing how many times I’ve cried in this room. We cancel each other out.” You don’t turn, you can’t do it, you can’t let her see how much this effects you. “I don’t like it when you cry. Please, Y/N, come back.”
You take a deep breath and turn around, wanting to walk past her again, curious to see if she’ll reach out and pull you into the chair with her.
But she doesn’t get the chance too, because your eyes are blinded by tears, and the place where the rug curls up is always making you stumble. Except on days when she’s here, you’re so drained of everything, so you trip completely.
Your knees slam against the hardwood floor, Clarisse tries her best to catch you, but she was a foot too far to reach you- even with her fast reflexes.
And now you’re on your knees in front of her, crying even louder with burning knees.
“Y/N,” she breathes, and you drag yourself towards her, sobbing like a baby until you’re at her feet, resting your head in her lap. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s fine. I trip all the time.” You both know you’re not crying about that.
You press your face into the space between her leg and the cushion to muffle your loud cries.
You grab her legs, feral, nails digging through her cargo pants- but you don’t even reach skin.
“I love you so much, Clarisse,” you sob. “I love you. Don’t leave me tonight. Don’t leave me.”
She breathes out, it’s silent and you bite your tongue.
“I’ll stay tonight,” she says. “I was always gonna stay tonight, you don’t have to ask, baby.”
“Say you love me,” you whisper. “Say it, please.”
“I love you,” she says, her lips in your hair. “Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
There is a certain desperation with demigod relationships. And you feel it now, you feel the desperate hands and the yearning hearts as you cry at her feet. And you feel your knees burn as you kneel before her. You listen to Jeff Buckley croon about love gone while you cry at her feet.
You can’t be embarrassed in this moment. Part of you feels like this is all just Clarisse’s problem, for being so beautiful you still love her, for leaving you and never putting you first. She has to hold you and fix you, she has to deal with the wet pant leg full of your tears. But really, you just want her to hold you. You just want to pretend she never left in the first place.
It’s never over // She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
—-
“Are you hungry?” you ask when you finally let go of her, pushing her away as you wipe your wet face.
She studies you for a moment.
“Yeah,” she says, honestly. “What’cha got?”
You reach under the coffee table for the box of snacks you always keep incase someone gets hungry during a session. You’ve both moved to the couch for more space, Jeff Buckley is still going in the background- you’ll have to get up and flip it over soon, or put on something else.
She rifles through the bags of mortal snacks until she finds a bag of salt and vinegar chips.
“Thanks, baby,” she mutters, tearing into the bag. You lean against the couch and just watch her. It could be like this all the time. If she would just stay.
She tries to feed you one, but for some reason that feels too intimate and you shake your head. She shrugs and eats it, even though it was pressed up against your lips a second ago.
That’s the one thing you don’t do. You kiss each other everywhere, except for the lips. You touch her everywhere, except for her lips.
You cry in her arms and she kisses your head, she runs her hands down your body but doesn’t kiss you.
And you’re scared of it. You’re scared of kissing her. You still feel like you can leave, even after all the nights together, if you just don’t kiss her.
She gestures to the curtain that separates your bedroom from where you see campers. “I like the new curtain. Flowers,” she says.
You rake your eyes over the carefully crocheted patterns, pink and blue and yellow, purple and green and red, all turned into pretty flowers.
“A few kids from the Demeter cabin made it for me,” you smile, thinking of how proud they had been to give it to you. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” Clarisse says, but she’s not looking at the curtain anymore. “Jane was talking about you all day,” she says after a moment. “She really loves you.”
“I love her. If she hadn’t come to me, then no one else would have, and I probably would have gotten thrown out. I don’t even know where I would have gone.”
“You could’ve come to me. You can always come to me.”
You have her address pinned to a bulletin board next to your bed.
“Yeah,” you mumble, playing with a loose thread on the back of the couch. “She reminds me a lot of you, you know.”
“Really?” she chuckles. “How?”
“I can’t tell you, silly. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“Well, you said she’s like me. So just tell me what I’m like.”
“Okay,” you mumble, thinking over every moment you’ve spent with Clarisse, every session with Jane. “Well, you have very big emotions. It’s hard for you to control them. But, you never really feel them. You never get to the root of the problem. So, when something actually happens, all you know how to do is recognize that you’re angry. You can’t figure out why.”
“You’re good at this shit,” she mumbles. You laugh.
“Hm, you forget that being a demigod means you’re half human, too. And you’re very loyal. You’re loyal to the wrong people, sometimes.”
She crunches up the empty bag of chips and drops it onto the coffee table.
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“Do what?”
She rubs her socks against your knees. “I jus’ wanna be here with you, right now. Don’t say anything else.”
“You asked me about Jane.” You scoff and she glares at you, but her feet are still touching you, and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I jus’ wanna be here with you, too.”
She stares at you for a long moment, unblinking. When she finally looks away, she’s rubbing tears out of her eyes. You move to sit on your knees, leaning towards her.
“Clar, don’t cry,” you say. “What happened?”
You take her face in your hands, so she can’t wipe away the tears. Staring into your eyes, she’s forced to let them fall. She puts her hands on your waist.
“Sometimes I jus’ think about how you’ll never forgive me.”
You don’t know what to say to that.
“Let’s not talk about that right now, Clar. C’mon.”
“Is this room soundproof?” she asks, suddenly. You frown at first, not knowing what that has to do with anything- but then you remember.
You let the kids assume it’s soundproof in your early sessions. But eventually, when they ask, you tell them the truth. You tell them it’s not.
And when they get scared and ask if their godly parents will hear them- you put your hand on their arm and say no. No, they won’t hear you. It’s not that they can’t, it’s that they won’t. They won’t care.
“No. It’s not.”
She shakes her head and laughs.
“So, what? You just sit here and tell these kids that their parents don’t love them?”
“Because they don’t. A God’s love is not a human’s love, Clarisse, why-why dont you get it? It’s different. It’s just different. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just not what these kids need.”
“You make them think that their parents don’t care about them.”
“Because they don’t! Fuck. They don’t, okay!”
She stares at you for a long time after your outburst.
“What is wrong with you?” she mutters, not necessarily mean but more genuinely curious. She truly believes your wrong in your hatred of the Gods.
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? I spend my entire day helping kids. I spent my entire day handing them tissues, hugging them, teaching them coping skills. I have devoted my entire life to making sure no one ever felt how I felt. How am I the bad guy for helping them place the blame on who it really should be placed?”
“How you felt?”
You shuffle, sitting up taller.
“Yes, how I felt. How I feel. You don’t know what it was like for me, Clarisse. You don’t know what it was like to sleep without you and know that you were probably gone-”
“What the hell do you think I did every night of that quest?”
“But I didn’t leave you, Clarisse! I didn’t leave you. I have been waiting for you for years. You are the one who leaves me over and over again. And you- you have someone. I have no one, except for you. No one.”
Clarisse has a father. She has someone to blame, if she chose. She has someone to pray to, to cry to, to guide her.
What do you have? The unclaimed daughter of no one? The only person you belong to is Clarisse. And here she is, staring at you like you disgust her.
The anger falls away, because at your core you’re still a lonely 16 year old who needs her to come back, who needs to be claimed, who needs to be loved.
You’re a licensed psychologist. You know that you have deep, deep abandonment issues. You know that Clarisse is at the root of them. But the part of you that’s just a girl, your bones that will always love her, she’s everything to you. She’s all you have.
“Please don’t make us fight,” you cry, hands pressed to your cheeks. “You’re making me cry, Clarisse. Don’t make me cry.”
You watch her change entirely. It goes from the woman who can’t understand you to the girl who knows only you.
“I hate it when you cry,” she says, softly, a gateway back into her arms.
You throw yourself against her, trying your best not to cry for her, but you fail. Her lips are in your hair, your head against her chest. She smooths down your hair and begs you not to cry. Because for some reason, this feels like too much. For some reason, this hurts her the most.
Clarisse is self destructive just like you.
She helps you to your bed. She touches the flower curtain as you walk past.
Clarisse knows she’s hurting you and she knows you’re hurting her. You know you’re hurting her and you know she’s hurting you.
She takes off her uncomfortable clothes and slips under the blanket with you.
Clarisse loves you the same way you love her. Not by choice, but by nostalgia, by hope. She loves you because of what might be. You love her the same way. You both hope that one day it’ll all work out.
She tucks the blanket around you and cups your face. She tells you she’s sorry and whispers “I love you” one more time. You put your hand on her hip, the other pressing against your chest. You say you love her too. You say you love her so much you’re reduced to this less-than thing in her presence.
Clarisse doesn’t understand you. You don’t understand her. She’s nobody’s son, and you’re nobody’s daughter. You try to go about your day without her but you think about her on you so much.
It’s hard to do well on these nights when you know she’s gonna leave you. So you cry, you pretend, you relish this one night in her arms.
“I promise I don’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers. “I don’t. I love you so much. I want you to be happy, but I can’t let you go.” She traces her nose along your jawline. “I can’t let you be happy away from me.”
And it sounds so horrible and cruel, but the way she hurts you is so beautiful you can’t be bothered. She only hurts you because of love. Because she loves you, because she loves her father.
“I know,” you breathe. “I know everything. I don’t mean to hurt you either, I know exactly how you feel.”
A single tear falls down her face. “I can’t help but hurt you. I can’t help but let you hurt me.”
“I know, Clarisse,” you mutter. You press your lips to her cheek and swallow the salty tear falling down her face. “It feels so good, I know.”
Clarisse is a sadist like you. Clarisse is a masochist like you.
Clarisse is addicted to the pain just like you.
—-
me when i’m in an toxic and cosmically doomed relationship contest and my opponents are clarisse and y/n: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱
let me know if you cried in the comments below! 😘
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
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𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒! Sae Itoshi
you're his guilty pleasure, his wildest fantasies and dirty secret.
♱ content/warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, unprotected sex, implied m masturbation, sae being a simp for you
♱ a/n: I initially wrote for the other boys too but I got impatient so I'm posting this first 😋
♱ tags: @blueparadis @tokyometronetwork
♱ wc: 0.7k
When he overheard from the guests that his favorite model was watching the match, Sae got distracted from his deep train of pre-game thoughts. His teammates were silenced in a heartbeat when Sae hastily got up from the bench and out of the locker room, visibly in a sense of urgency.
“Find [ Y / N ] [ L / N ]. And give her the best field side seat. I don’t care if they’re filled, find a way.” He instructed the men lined before him.
So when you were told that “Sae Itoshi got you a VIP seat.”, it was something you cannot decline. You came to support his team, but it was to your surprise that Sae even knew about your existence.
The game went smoothly and his team won by a landslide of goals. While you were shown on the big screen in between breaks and the hosts commenting on your presence, your favorite part of the game was sharing an eye contact or two with Sae. So once the game was over, you pulled every string you could to get a hold of the man. You just had to meet him.
“Miss [ Y / N ] [ L / N ] requests to meet you at the country club.” Although it would’ve been more convenient if his security didn’t blurt it out in the team’s locker room, Sae felt proud that he practically got asked out by one of today’s hottest models in front of the other guys.
“Damn, I guess you’re ditching our celebration for your reward?” Sendo banters. “Yeah, screw you, guys.” Sae flatly spoke before changing into casual clothing. “What happened to ‘I want nothing but to be the world’s best’?!”
Sae couldn’t believe it— he’s exactly the man he once mocked. Walking blocks in risk of being seen by fans and media, all to meet you. So as soon as he sees you by the bar counter, he makes his presence known with a gentle tap on your shoulder. You made sure to thank him for giving you a vip seat before buying drinks for each other. The place was cozy enough to keep you conversing, like the usual ‘getting to know’ lines. But this time, it was actually interesting to have a date with someone who was famous in a whole other industry.
However, the night fell darker, and more and more people started to recognize the two of you. So in a leap of faith, you invited Sae into a more private domicile.
“Nghmmh! Sae~ s’too big…” You could tell that your risk paid off when Sae practically had you fold in half on the bed; your legs lifted to his shoulders and his fat cock buried in full penetration inside you. “You deserve it, angel…” Sae weakly smiled in an airy breath, hindering himself from cumming too soon.
He’d thought about this very moment on several occasions, especially right from the first time he saw your voluptuous frame and beautiful face on the cover of Vogue. Sae was too overwhelmed with wild and filthy thoughts when he’s practically living a lot of men’s wildest fantasies. “Pretty princess~” Sae spoke in between kisses on the surface of your cleavage. “Just as perfect as I imagined~”
Your grip on his biceps tightened when Sae’s fingers started tracing over your curves. “D-don’t stop, please, Sae…” You suggestively bit your lip before taking his hand up to your lips and sucking on his thumb whilst keeping hot eye contact. Sae almost came from the gesture, but instead, you felt him rut his hips harshly into yours, your toes curling in an instant as his tip kissed your cervix
Sae had you moaning his name again and again, just as much as you made him moan and jerk to your magazine bikini photos.
Sae was strong and skillful in his movements. He left no inch of you unattended. Not when he had one hand grabbing your breast like his personal stress ball, his thumb circling your clit in eight figures, and his lips practically making out with your thigh all while pushing his length to the deepest ends of your tight cunt.
Sae Itoshi had just officially made himself the best hookup of your life.
#blue lock#sae itoshi#sae itoshi smut#sae x reader#sae x reader smut#blue lock smut#sae itoshi x y/n#sae itoshi x you#sae itoshi x reader
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 18.
Summary: Love as seen in the stars, in the flowers that bloom, in your best friend's eyes, and in the taste of him on Oliver's tongue as you catch him in the bathtub. Summer continues at Saltburn.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: SMUT; vouyerism, dom!reader, handjob, bathwater as lube, cumming almost untouched, pervert/enabler dynamics. I cannot stress to you enough that both the reader and Oliver are COMPLETE AND UTTER FREAKS ABOUT FELIX in the bathtub scene.
A/N: 6670 words. this chapter is very special to me for a lot of reasons, but mainly because there have been several scenes that i've been writing for a while now that have all found their forever home in this chapter. if you have any feedback or thoughts about this chapter or the story so far, i'd always love to hear them! also something something bath water something ;o)
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
Things were easier to navigate now that you understood Oliver. Or at least you thought you understood. Less fucking around with Farleigh and Venetia in Oliver's peripheries; when you put yourself on display, it was as an extension of Felix. If Felix had noticed the change, he hadn't commented on it. Considering how much effort you put in making him feel good and moan like a whore for Oliver's benefit, he probably appreciated it.
Things with Oliver himself were getting better by the day too, it seemed. More and more he was reaching out for you again. Sitting too close, sharing your space, seeking you out when his time wasn't filled with Felix. There's less tension too, on the nights you share in the lilac study. Oliver's been through the book you'd given him on the Estate, and has moved on to picking out books he'd found on your bookshelf, it seemed. You, having quickly identified the flower he'd mentioned as the honeysuckle, native to Australia, had also moved on to books from your Summer reading list for your upcoming year at Oxford. As the first week of Summer is coming to an end, it seems as though Oliver had finally settled in at Saltburn.
"Do you miss your room?" Oliver asks one evening. Without even looking up from your own book, you give a fond laugh, shaking your head.
"It was more just a formality half the time," you tell him with an easy smile, "a place to keep my stuff." Looking at him beside you on the sofa, you see he understands the implications, the holidays you and the others have reminisced about, the trysts masquerading as something much more innocent that you would share with them all when you were at the Estate. There's nothing judgemental in his eyes, there never was when it came to Oliver, "why?"
"It all just feels very much like you in there," he offers, gaze wandering as he speaks, "Felix's room feels very You-And-Felix, and I get bits of him in your room too, but it feels much more you." You're actually rather surprised by how well you understand what he means, "like up on your roof you've got these little stars. They glow. I didn't notice them the first few nights."
Your smile widens, all bright and warm, and you close your book.
"Do you want to have a sleepover, Ollie?" You ask with a childish kind of glee. The offer seems to take Oliver by surprise, but you lean forwards, "like an actual sleepover, like we're kids again."
"You still do just sleepovers?" Seems to escape Oliver without him quite meaning it to, and for a moment your expression does falter a little.
"Yeah," you can't help but feel a little self conscious, "promise I'm not trying to seduce your or anything," then, shifting your legs from him you shuffle back to sit cross-legged on the sofa, "we actually do them kind of a lot, or, well, I do. I think Farleigh and Ven have a few and I know when they get tipsy Ven and Fi have had a few. Sometimes after events when we were teenagers we'd all head back to one of our rooms and end up all passed in the same bed trying to fit in like sardines, all four of us."
"That's very cute," Oliver says softly after a long moment of silence, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he's smiling.
"Yeah," you grin once more, "we were."
Which is how you ended up back in Oliver's room, back in your old bed, looking up at the canvas that made up your ceiling, stretched across the full length of the room, rigged and taught, littered with a constellation of glowing stars. Oliver, laying still beside you, asks about it, and you have to explain that there was no way in hell you would ever be allowed to mark the actual roof of any room in the Saltburn Estate. Which he realises makes a lot of sense once you say it out loud.
"But you should see Felix's ceiling, it's much more impressive," you tell him softly, not even aware how your smile was coming through even in your words. Oliver, bedside you, was simply quiet as he gazed at the glowing dots, "haven't you ever looked up at the ceiling in Fi's room?"
"Not properly," Oliver admitted quietly, and the silence lapses out between you both for several contented seconds, "did you two do this?"
"I did," you said proudly, "and this is just from what I had left over."
"What do you mean?"
"About this time, uh," you considered for a long while, trying to remember the full context of the stars that littered both yours and Felix's ceilings, "seven years ago I think, Felix pretended to have gotten really into astronomy as an excuse to always be out of bed, out on his balcony at night."
"But... he wasn't really?" Oliver's head shifted on his pillow to look at you and your amused smile. You shook your head.
"He picked up smoking from Venetia, she was bribing him with cigarettes to hide both her own habit and the fact that she gave it to him."
Oliver shifts beside you on the bed, no longer content with looking at the stars you'd placed there, interested, it seemed, only in watching you.
"How old was Felix?" He's looking at you, clearly listening and invested, but he seems distracted by something.
"Fourteen," you sighed, "Ven was fifteen, which really isn't much better -"
"And how old were you when you picked the habit up from Felix?" Oliver asks with the faintest, knowing quirk of his lips. Embarrassed about how well he seemed to know you, your whole face scrunched up momentarily, "fourteen?" Oliver teased when you refused to answer, grin widening as you squeezed your eyes shut. Still, he went on, "so when you say Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago to hide his smoking habit, you mean you and Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago?" And this is when you feel Oliver's gentle fingertips touch your flustered face. His fingertips beginning to glide so gracefully along your features, as you relaxed into a simple, embarrassed smile.
You really weren't trying to do anything untoward with him tonight, you weren't lying about that. Still, you wouldn't rebuff any kind of gentle affection he had to offer.
"Well, yeah," you admitted, and Oliver makes a noise for you to continue as he seemed to be wanting to map each delicate feature on your face through touch alone, "but Fi ended up really getting into it. Went through this whole big astronomy phase that year - I say that year; he still really into it - but back then, it was..." you closed your eyes, letting yourself be immersed in the memory of how excited Felix had been. Felix was always a beautiful sight to behold when he was passionate.
"Little Felix," Oliver mused fondly, "bet he was desperate to be an astronaut." Oliver touches you like you're porcelain, so delicate and precious, his fingertips skimming your cheeks and brushing your eyelashes.
"Actually," you laughed a little, though not unkindly, at the memory. Opening your eyes, you turn just enough to be looking at Oliver, to catch the adoring look in his eyes as his hand stilled, now simply holding your cheek, "he wanted to be the guy who got to give speeches about the stars and planets and the universe every day at the planetarium," you recounted, "and become a Doctor of Astronomy so he could make the videos they play in the room with the domed roof that you get to lay back and watch in the dark," you grinned, "but also then he could still be the guy who gave the speeches, but he'd get to answer questions about his own movie about the universe as well." After a moment of silence, Oliver smiles so widely and genuinely; you know he can see it so clearly, "he'd be so good at it, wouldn't he?"
"He'd be cute," Oliver agreed softly, fondly.
"So for his fifteenth birthday, I spent weeks designing and figuring out how to rig this piece of canvas across his whole roof, since I couldn't paint or mark his ceiling, what with this being a heritage building," you explained, proud little smile on your face, "and I asked my nan about all these paints and fancy pigments and stuff that would last and would glow in the dark, because nan's a painter and she's always had this gift with like, making her paintings look like they glow," you turned to Oliver, expression so adoring, "but Fi turned fifteen while we were at boarding school, so the very next break we had, I convinced him to spend the first week visiting Farleigh and his aunt in America, while I was back here, spending night and day on this. I had the whole canvas stained navy, and nan even stayed here for a few days to help me with painting it all perfectly and making sure all my paints would do exactly what I wanted them to, and we painted this canvas-ceiling I'd set up for him to look like his favourite starscape at the London Planetarium." Giving a loud, contented sigh, you added almost as an afterthought, "there's probably a bunch of the print outs of references I used somewhere in the study; the Planetarium people were so lovely."
"Is that why Felix is doing a physics degree?" Oliver practically gasped like it was a revelation; right, you forgot Felix rarely bothered to explain anything about his academics to anyone. When you confirmed as much, Oliver seems somehow more shocked, "I never got the impression that he thought much of uni." It's... not an incorrect observation to have made about at least half of Felix's academic career.
"He gets weird about it, about talking about it and stuff, thinks he sounds like a nerd," you agree after a moment, with a fond laugh, "he's got this weird mind for physics and anything really related to space and stars and astronomy, but he'd rather complain about the electives that he takes despite knowing he'll hate them."
"Then why does he take them?"
"A lot of them are actually my core subjects," finally you admit, a little abashed, "he knows I'm not as fond of my course as he is of his, so he takes them out of solidarity and complains the whole time." You're pretty sure Oliver can hear the sickeningly sweet undercurrent of I love him, I love him, I love him in your tone, but you can't help it. Neither of you have much more to say on the matter, but you think you know what Oliver's thinking. Something about favouritism, about best friends, about how he's pretty sure that Felix Catton wouldn't do that for anyone else.
And he'd be right.
"Hey Ollie?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I move closer?"
"'course," his voice is warm and soft and before you even move he's coaxing you closer to him, arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest.
"Thanks for letting me sleep over," you yawned, but the affection in your voice was sincere. A chuckle rumbles through Oliver's chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
"Thank you for suggesting it."
Oliver's warmth is familiar and foreign all at once. How is it that you could have missed someone so much despite only having spent one night beside him.
However the following morning, over breakfast, Elspeth gives you a reminder about an upcoming event that you'd been trying desperately not to think about.
"Y/N, darling, I just thought I'd remind you about the Arts Collective dinner we'll be hosting in a few days," her voice is carefully neutral as she brings it up. You freeze, "Duncan needs to finalise the numbers today so the kitchen can start figuring out what we need to order. We'll be gathering in the fairy garden for drinks and canapes beforehand." What she's really trying to ask is if you'll be in attendance considering your mother's name is on the guest list. Before you can properly answer, however, she turns to Farleigh and asks if he's still intending on joining the garden portion of the gathering.
"As usual, I will I'll indeed be showing my face for wine and cheese," he says, though his smile is tight, "at my mother's behest."
"I'll be taking dinner in my study that night," you force a smile at Elspeth, and she gives you the same kind of look that was so often directed towards Pamela. Pity. Sympathy. You poor, dear, thing, I understand. In a moment, however, she brightens once more and asks if Oliver would like to join the pre-dinner gathering, or if he'd simply like to attend dinner, dismissively assuming that both of her own children would be forgoing the garden themselves - she'd be right.
You can feel Felix looking at you as you return your focus to your breakfast, but you remain uncharacteristically stoic for the rest of the meal. As your plate is taken away, you try to shake your negativity, looking up and around as you ask if any of the others have plans for the day. Swimming, reading, lounging around; leisure, as always. But you feel as though you'll get lost in your own head if you don't do something with yourself today.
So instead, you find something suitable to garden in, and spend a good deal of the day in your garden, uprooting all of the purple pincushions in preparation. It's satisfying to be working with your hands, satisfying to be ripping the flowerless stalks up by the roots and disposing of them in a bucket to later be composted. You'd brought your iPod and little speaker and make a day of it in the garden, waiving the staff off who offer to help, only asking them what the garden needed that day.
You till the soil you'd just disturbed, mixing fertiliser in in preparation for the plants due to be arriving in a day or two, and water the rest of the plants in both rings. You take great care, admiring each flower in bloom, and even the more utilitarian ivy that curled across the latticed archway of an entrance.
Some of the staff members bring you food and water throughout the day, and for each one that does, you invite them to stop and sit and talk for any time they had spare. All seem surprised by the invite, and even moreso when you seem to know them by name, and how eager you are to ask them about themselves. They also all seem grateful to get off their feet for a few minutes.
Duncan sits very awkwardly opposite you at the picnic table. He does not touch the food he has brought you, even as you push it to the middle of the table, as an offering. Duncan does not ask questions. Duncan has never much liked speaking unless spoken to. But still, you know he's more than willing to refuse a request for company such as the one you'd made, so you take the kindness for what it is. He watches you down the bottle of water he'd also brought like your life depended on it.
"How long has it been since you last applied any sunscreen?" He does finally broach the surprisingly comfortable silence. He'd provided you with a tube of the stuff as you'd announced your intentions to spend the day gardening, and now it sat at the other end of the picnic table with the gardening tools. You promise to reapply after you'd finished your lunch, but smile at him warmly. He gives one of his awkward smiles back, and asks if you need a hat, which you decline.
"Your mother has confirmed that she will be in attendance with the Arts' Collective," he says, and you go still, "what would you like to be brought for dinner that evening?" The confirmation stings, but you know this is Duncan's way of showing he cares about you. You get to pick your own dinner, unlike most other nights, and he won't subject you to the cruel anticipation of wondering just whether your mother really would or would not be in the same house as you.
Trying your best to smile, you let him know that you'll think about it, and get back to him tonight. With a faint nod, Duncan stands smoothly, and leaves the garden once more. He'd always been good to you, in his own way.
By mid-afternoon, you've done all you can, and head back to the house to soak, and perhaps even have a sulk about the upcoming event, in the tub until you had to get ready for dinner.
Except Felix doesn't even knock before he bursts into the bathroom, already in his suit with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He's practically radiating joy as he informs you that he and the others had managed to get their hands on several bottles of champagne and are going to hit the tennis courts before dinner.
Black tie tennis and getting absolutely shitfaced sounded great right about now. You were already feeling pretty recovered from the day seeing as you'd spent over an hour in the bath already, so much to Felix's delight, you agree to join them with a delighted grin. From somewhere behind him, Venetia also orders you to wear something flashy.
"If you're in a black suit too I swear I'm going to scream!"
Which is how you end up in your bright red suit pants with the red, silk paisley embroidery, and matching suit vest, buttoned up, with nothing beneath it. It's also the kind of thing you can move in, throw yourself around in, which is perfect for how the five of you play tennis.
Champagne bottle in one hand, tennis racket in the other, the sunset paints you all a joyful gold. Swapping in and out on all sides to play even games, you find yourself forgetting everything that had been weighting you down, instead drowning in your friends laughter. So often your gaze is caught by Oliver and Felix, cheering, drinking, playing. Love swells in your chest at the sight.
You all share giggles over dinner, and while Elspeth and James and Pamela can all clearly tell that you're all already drunk, the way the five of you are all grinning softens their exasperation.
After, not wanting this rather fantastic evening to end, you end up on one of the many balconies or patios, you're not sure which, sharing a sofa and several cigarettes, and the last of a bottle of champagne with Felix. He's got his head in your lap, pointing out constellations, but all you can see is him, the stars shining in his eyes and wide, excited smile he always got when he was rambling about something he was passionate about. Good how you loved his passion; you wished Oliver were here to see him like this. Of course Oliver loves him, and of course he's desperate for Felix to love him back; to be loved by Felix was -
"You're thinking about Ollie, aren't you?" Felix's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you can see he's grinning up at you, nothing but affection in his eyes.
"I'm thinking about you," you corrected, carding your fingers through his hair.
"You're always thinking about me," he says it so easily, so dismissively, throwing the idea away despite how vain it would sound if it weren't rather true, still he takes on a teasing tone, "you get this look about you when you think about Ollie," he reaches up and pokes your cheek.
"He loves you," you give a contented sigh after a moment, expression turning soft, of course he does, how could he not? But that's also kind of a given.
"And you," Felix's jabbing finger turns to a gentle hand holding your face, "that's why we're being absolute sluts, isn't it? Trying to get him to make a move?" And you laugh, loud and bright, in agreement. But then, after a moment, there's a change in Felix, something in his eyes. It's not jealousy, but it's more serious than before.
"Fi?" Your voice is soft, and he smiles at you, overwhelmingly adoring.
"I've been getting to watch you fall in love," he said gently, incredulously, "how weird is that?" Something tightens in your chest.
"Again," you correct. Felix gives you a vaguely confused look, but you can't help but shake your head at your beautiful fool of a best friend, "you get to see me fall in love again, Felix." You roll your eyes, but as he's hit with the implications of your words hit him, a beautiful flush works its way up his cheeks. He actually has to cover his face with his hands, embarrassment and joy lighting up his expression.
"You're so sappy," he crows, "you are so fucking sappy!" You practically cackle with glee draping yourself over him, onto his chest, the two of you awkwardly wrapped up in each other on this little sofa. As your laughter dies down, you give a faint hum.
"But he's not your competition, for the record, he never really was -"
"I'm not jealous! I've told you that!" Felix insists, "I thought I made that clear!"
"You have, Fi," you laughed, "but what I'm saying is... well, he knows I love you both, and he loves me, but he's not -" ever going to love me the way he loves you, God, you can't say that. It takes the last bit of self restraint you have to bite that back, shifting to get a little more comfortable, you reach out and stroke Felix's hair.
"Fi, I have spent months watching him fall so in love with you, the way I often hope, or," you laughed a little self conciously, "feared, the rest of the world would," and slowly Felix uncovers his face, those big, brown eyes of his full of all kinds of hope and affection, "he was never your competition, Fi, he's mine," you joked.
"Oh," the flush on his cheeks only grows steadily darker, and the faint exclamation comes out as more of a breathless gasp, "Ollie's your competition for..." He grins sheepishly, like he just wants to hear you say it.
"You, Fi," you tell him with an affectionate grin, but for it up with a nonchalant shrug and teasing smirk, "though competition implies that either of us would make you choose."
You would never let him know the full truth. You'd let him believe wholeheartedly that while you both loved Oliver, he reciprocated that wholeheartedly. Which was... mostly true. True enough that it kept Felix happy and you happy enough.
Yes, Oliver loves Felix, and therefore loves you by extension. Only you knew how sharp that distinction really was.
But you realised Felix was right; he was watching you fall in love with Oliver, and you too had been watching him fall for the boy as well, even if it did seem to be a slower process than it had been with you. You reasoned that Felix had far more reason to be cautious with his heart, especially with men. The first and last boy you'd seen him fall in love with broke his fucking heart at Saltburn, you knew part of him was terrified for history to repeat itself. But clearly he couldn't stop himself from falling in the end.
It was a waiting game now, either Oliver makes a real move and proves his love and loyalty to Felix, or Felix makes a real move and proves to Oliver that his affections are entirely, overwhelmingly genuine. So you'd be the proxy when you had to be, something a little safer for them both while they built up the courage.
Though you're not above stressing this tension that's building between them. The bend before the break, how far it would go before it snaps and you can all stop dancing around this thing that you all clearly want.
And an opportunity arises in the days that follow.
Saltburn creaks it's own kind of melody, it always has. You've become used it, learned the ebb and flow of the house and it's noises, the way it settles itself as it cools from the Summer afternoon heat. You know which door is shutting in the rooms adjacent to yours and Felix's just by the sound of the latches alone, and you know all too well which floorboards squeak along the halls you frequent.
On Felix's balcony, winding down for the day with a book as he takes a bath before bed, you don't hear the creak of the little hall between Oliver's room and the bathroom. The blinds are drawn over the bathroom window, but you catch a faint bit of movement in the mostly dark hall and give pause in your reading.
You could barely make out the arch of a shoulder through the break in the blinds, but you could tell that beautiful, bathing Felix had himself a captive audience. Part of you wondered if it was by chance or by choice, if Oliver was watching or simply listening, and if Felix knew either way. He'd have to; there's no way Oliver was adept enough at moving through Saltburn silently that Felix hadn't heard that awful floorboard that creaked right before the bathroom door.
Oh there was purpose to this, you were sure. Felix knew the feeling of Oliver's gaze upon him, the want he so callously toyed with, seeing it in Oliver's eyes all too often. All the world's a stage for Felix Catton, you just wonder what kind of reaction he's trying to pull from tonight's audience. Settling back in with your book, all you can do is wait.
When you hear the water start to drain from the tub, you still take your time, give them both time for anything to occur, before you feel a sense of disappointment or defeat in your heart.
"Can I come in and brush my teeth yet?" You knock loudly at his door and hear Felix laugh on the other side.
"Since when do you knock?" Wrapped in his robe and sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Felix is drying his hair with his towel as you come in. Before you can answer, he follows it up with, "since when did you care if I was in the bath for that sort of thing?"
"It's called respecting your privacy, Fi," you tell him, swanning past him to get to your toothbrush. You do give pause, however, stopping in front of him, and he lowers the towel, as if in anticipation. For a moment you lift his chin, loving the way he grins in almost sappy anticipation, and you give him a quick peck on the lips before you're moving on again and he's back to getting the water from around the edges of his face and ears.
Oliver, who'd watched the whole exchange after slinking into the bathroom from the opposite door, looks quickly at himself in the mirror as you join him in collecting your toothbrush.
"Do you want me to start respecting your privacy?" There's half a joke in Felix's voice, since it's a strange sentiment for you both, especially at Saltburn. Oliver's gaze flicks to you, then to Felix in the mirror.
"If I needed privacy I know you'd respect it," toothpaste on your brush, you leave Oliver's side of the bathroom to join Felix, the two of you having devolved from a real conversation, into some kind of silly, mock-conversations entirely consisting of eyebrow movements, and trying not to choke on your laughter as you brushed your teeth.
Oliver was watching, of course, Oliver was always watching, but you kept noticing the way he'd glance at the bathtub as it continued to drain between the three of you, stealing focus. There was tension in his shoulders, in his gaze, in the way he held himself. Never turning away from the sink - you'd bet he was hard. Oblivious Felix - at least that's how he appeared - was doing nothing but the most mundane bathroom task, which still wasn't able to help Oliver's current state with the way he was glowing, content and beautiful in the steamy bathroom, hair still slick and curling and clinging to his beautiful face.
You watch Oliver swallow hard in the mirror, but then his gaze meets yours. In this moment you don't do anything, you barely acknowledge what you saw, but you see the rapid way he starts to blink as he looks away, as if hoping he'd imagined the look in your eyes.
You finish brushing your teeth in silence after that, only stopping to wish Oliver good night after Felix does, the two of you closing your door to the bathroom.
"I'm going to finish my chapter then I'll be right with you," you tell Felix with a warm smile, picking up your book on the balcony as he yawned loud and wide. He tells you there's no rush, that he'll be out in only a few minutes. True to his word, after a long day, his deep breathing starts to take over not too long after the lights go out.
Except for the one in the bathroom. Just as you'd expected.
You turn out the lamp on the balcony, and move quietly through the darkness. Yes, you know the way Saltburn creaks and moans, know how to make yourself known, or how to slip through the shadows like you're made of them. The old house is well maintained, the hinges on doors don't creak if you move them right, you can slip into the role of observer with ease if you know how.
Behind you, you close the door almost all the way, making sure the latch sits flush with the door for privacy without it's click of proper closing giving you away.
The water is still draining from the tub, Felix's water, and Oliver there along with it. The running water echoes through the old pipes, but not loud enough to cover the lewd noises you hear from the bathtub. The slurping, the moaning, the grateful sighs of contentment to be afforded this moment of perversion.
You let him have his moment. Then you let the door click shut.
Immediately Oliver sits up, panic on his face; he looks like he wants to say something, to explain himself, say anything, but he can't seem to find the words. It's like he was expecting Felix. Or even if he was expecting you, he was expecting judgement. When you remain quiet, remain observant, you watch his panic fade to something wary.
Why? You knew exactly what he was doing, why are you just standing there, watching him? You can see the questions in his eyes, and feel your heart rate pick up. Slowly, you move towards him. Slowly, you let yourself smile.
Oliver sits back in the tub, never taking his eyes off of you, the way you stalk around the space, predator and captured prey, caught red handed. Your fingers trail the lip of the tub, graceful, threatening, until you get to him, his shoulders pressed against the porcelain. His expression is taut, defiant, ready to push back against any kind of mockery or blackmail attempts, you assume.
No, you want him to relish this moment.
You curl your fingers in his hair, leaning down by the edge of the bathtub to make sure he finally sees how pleased you are by this development. The moment he realises, you can see his thinly veiled panic turn to a conflicted kind of desire. But you don't give him another moment before you crash your lips to his, wasting no time, licking at his lips to deepen the kiss, to taste Felix on his tongue.
And you climb into the bath with him, sitting on your knees between his spread legs, mouth on his like you're desperate to devour each other. Oliver is pressed against the edge of the bath, one arm along the edge, the other braced beside him, his mind still catching up to the moment even as he gasps into your mouth.
You break the kiss, the faintest hiss from your kiss-bruised lips being all he needs as a reminder to be quiet. Everything about him has changed, has become needy, pupils so shiny and dark with lust you could lose yourself in him. Instead, you let go of his hair, taking his jaw in a forceful grip, tilting his head to the side roughly, fingernails digging into his cheek. But his eyes flutter closed, choked kind of whimper escaping him, half muffled behind your hand over him mouth as you carefully angle his head back a little further.
He'd indulged himself in Felix's bath water, pressed himself into it, tried to lose himself in it, and the remnants of those moments of extasy clung so delicately to his skin. You take your time, kissing delicate drops of Felix's water from Oliver's beautiful features like a lover, temple to cheekbones down to his jaw. When you finally relax your grip on him, his head tilts enough for him to meet your gaze. Oliver is yours, totally and completely at your mercy. Good. Once his gaze moves to your mouth, to the pleased, hungry smile you wore, he couldn't look away.
With your hand trailing down his body, teasing against his ribs and belly until your nimble fingers find their way beneath the elastic of his pyjama pants, he tries to meet you in the middle, tries to kiss you, but that's not how this game goes.
The hand you'd been using to brace yourself over him pressed against his chest, pressing him back against the porcelain, and you go with him, your cheek pressed to his, lips by his ear, his heavy breathing, desperate panting in your own. The hand on his chest finds his necklace, entangling two fingers in it until it became tight enough that you could feel the hard way he swallowed when you finally wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock.
"Good boy," you purred into his ear as you worked your hand up and down his cock, already leaking precum into his boxers. Oliver bites down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, and you have to fight to keep your own whimper quiet. The two of you find a rhythm, panting echoing in each other's ears and Oliver's hips rocking to meet your hand each time.
When you move away, Oliver looks momentarily despairing - no, please, don't stop! - in his eyes, but you reassure him with a languid kiss as you ease his pyjama pants down enough to properly free his cock. Now, when you sit back on your heels, he watches you with a dark kind of want in his eyes. Like a cornered animal, unsure of what to expect, but full of anticipation nonetheless; he watches you reach behind yourself to the drain, to the last remnants of Felix's bathwater still clinging to the metal and porcelain. You gather as much of the liquid as you can across your fingers, palms pressing into the mostly diminished puddles.
You can see it when Oliver realises what you're doing, the way his eyes transfixed on your hand as you wrap it around him. Already slick with his own precum, your hand glides with the remnants of Felix's water. Oliver's head drops back against the edge of the tub, mouth open and desperate and gasping, his eyes closed. God he's gorgeous like this.
He coaxes you up to him this time, and you let him, press yourself to him, rocking gently along with the movements of your hand and his hips, close enough to fucking to tease you both. For all this was about Oliver, every part of you felt alive and on fire with need, and seeing him like this, getting him into this state and knowing how he looked at you, how much he wanted you in this moment, it was doing things for you. Fantastic things.
When he gets close, he wraps an arm around you, hand holding the back of your head in a far firmer grip than you'd been anticipating. But there's a thrill about it, about how he holds you so tightly, his lips by your ear as you obligingly speed up to meet the frantic pace of his hips.
"Felix~" he keens, a desperate whimper in your ear amid dizzying, gasping breathes, hot against your neck. And again, Felix's name pulled from Oliver's lips like a desperate prayer for only you to hear. Something about hearing it tips you over the edge, and you realise how close you are in this moment. All it takes is you making the faintest whine, a noise of encouragement -
"Felix, please," Oliver gasps, and your breath catches as you see stars behind your eyes. You barely feel it when Oliver sinks his teeth into your shoulder once more, his orgasm hitting mere moments after yours, cumming all over your hand and his stomach. Finally, Oliver lets you go, eyes wide as you lean back with the widest, satisfied smile. There's blood on his lips, watching you with this unreadable expression as you sit back on your heels again.
Your head's still spinning, endorphins pulsing through your blood alongside the adrenaline.
Neither of you move for a long moment, still sizing each other up it seemed, at least until you raised your hand. Oliver all over you. You won't be the one to back down; his eyes meet yours and you smile, all satisfied and wolfish as you slowly lick your fingers clean. He's transfixed again, watching the way you lap him up.
No-one's ever looked at you like that, like they're desperate for you to devour every inch of them. But the moment can't last, not outside of your memories at least.
You leave in silence, just as you'd arrived, leaving Oliver alone in the bathtub, watching you like he can't quite be sure it wasn't all a dream. You hope he dreams about this, about your blood on his tongue and Felix's name on his lips.
Except you reach for the door handle only to realise it's cracked ajar. Its closed over, door almost flush and closed, but not quite. Huh. You could have sworn... But you shrug off the thought, slipping back into your room and making sure to shut the door properly behind you.
Pyjama pants and underwear both damp for several reasons, you pull them off and quickly toss them into the laundry hamper. At this moment, you can't bring yourself to bother with anything more than a new pair of underwear before you're crawling into bed beside Felix. Who's on his side.
Huh.
Felix never sleeps on his side because it messes with his shoulders. He's also still, like he's holding his breath. When you curl an arm over him, cool hand resting on his chest, you can feel his racing heartbeat. Finally, his breath comes stuttering out. Pressing yourself up against him, you hum faintly, hand drifting lower, teasingly. You rest your hand low on his belly, between the gorgeous, defined lines of his hips, but refusing beneath his waistband. There comes a faint huff from Felix, but it's indecipherable; he's still on edge, clearly having realised that you'd connected all the dots.
When you speak it's practically a moan, voice low but sharp in his ear as you let your fingers dip lower. What a night it will be to remember, spent keeping your boys happy.
"Fi, you fucking pervert."
#felix catton x reader x oliver quick#felix catton x reader#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton imagine#oliver quick x reader#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#oliver quick imagine#oliver quick smut#oliver quick x y/n#oliver quick x you#head heart hand fic#manic writer
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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jake sully x male reader (+sully family)
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: There were many struggles that came with fatherhood—you must find a solution for each one.
ᴀɴᴏɴ: jake and reader are like the dads of the sully children, basically the sully's having gay dads??
ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6565
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of death (lighthearted) never happens tho, swearing, much worrying about children, surrogate neytiri referring to your kids as hers too (idk just in case)
ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: so. i've got a lot of things to say. that's why i'm putting a second a/n at the bottom. - two gays cannot have an avatar child if they can't have children therefore surrogate Neytiri <3 - my first attempt at writing a full sentence in Na'vi, y'all are probably not fluent in it but i hope it's correct. - regrettably, there's only one scene with Tuk and only one mention of Spider - less about the relationship between jake and reader, more about the children
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Neteyam was a blessing.
Him and Neytiri both.
When she agreed to be a surrogate for your children, you were both over the moon, over each of the three of Eywa'eveng.
Neytiri knew it best, the stress of having a child. Though it was all her, her body, her belly, her birthing, you and Jake stuck to her side and stressed with her. You could see her pain, in her eyes, and Jake said he felt it himself.
The musings did not help Neytiri through the pain.
Omatikaya welcoming ceremonies consisted of everyone in the village, close family, friends, acquaintances, everyone rounded up to welcome the newborn. But this one was special, for there was one mother and two fathers. Strange as it may have been, the three of you knew there'd be plenty more to come.
When Jake held him up towards the sky, calling the name, "Neteyam", you knew the name truly belonged to him, even if the newborn had yet developed characteristic traits.
The first year was not pretty. If it weren't for Mo'at and Neytiri–and thought it may be harsh, it is the truth–Neteyam would probably be dead.
Jake always knew there was a thing with babies. They didn't have a sense of danger. On Earth, some of the deadliest stuff they could find was a fork and an outlet. On Pandora, however, there were much worse things.
He was aware of this, both of you were, of the Hammerheads, Thanators, Viperwolves that each posed a dangerous threat to your child. Even herbivores, like Flathead Rams, could trample over your baby like he was nothing. He couldn't roam, either, for he didn't know the difference between a poisonous plant and a safe one, and the differences were scarce. Not to mention, they grew close to the ground. Even the carnivorous plants were huge enough to swallow him whole.
So you both watched him, most of the time.
When the hunt called, however, it was only one of you. You took turns.
Why? Because the mighty Toruk Makto, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, once war chief of three tribes at once, was not exempt from taking care of the baby.
Besides, he kind of liked it. He liked looking at his boy, knowing that in all ways except biological, Neteyam was his.
He loved when the little baby wrapped his four little blue fingers around one of his five large ones. He was so tiny, so defenseless. He had to take care of him. Couldn't let him out of his sight.
He was also so, so cute.
Neteyam lets out a little yawn, stretching all his limbs except for the hand holding his father's finger.
"Aww," Jake coos. "dinner's in a bit. The game's not even here yet. You can sleep."
As time passes, and Neteyam drifts off in his father's warm, large arms that encompassed him, Jake gets lost in the sight and his thoughts. Neteyam was his child. He never thought he'd have one.
He doesn't register the sound of you propping your bow up on the wall, or your footsteps, or a portion of the fresh hunt being placed next to the fire.
In fact, he doesn't really notice you at all until you sit next to him.
You wrap your arms around him, one around his back, the other around his stomach below his arms and Neteyam, and settle your head into the crook of his neck.
Jake laughs lowly, your nose against his neck's skin slightly ticklish—he didn't think the Na'vi were ticklish, hadn't learned it until he was victim to your fingers. "Kxì, my love. Tired?"
"Ngenga pllertxe fura tawtute lì'fya... ‘Ìnglìsì. Tìftang si." (You're speaking that sky people language... English. Stop it.)
Ever since the first time, he's memorized the words, therefore knows their meaning. "You know I don't speak Na'vi well. Right? Or are you too tired to remember?"
"Perfectly conscious enough to remember." You laugh lazily, "Just love to tease you."
Jake presses the side of his head against the top of yours, the best affection he can offer with Neteyam in his arms. "Zola‘u nìprrte’. Happy?"
"Yes."
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Where Neteyam was yours, Lo'ak was Jake's.
But first, came the unexpected Kiri. A month after Neytiri affirmed that she would have your second child, Norm and Max called with a panic.
One morning, as bored eyes strayed from scientific screens and microscopes, Norm discovered a bump on Grace's avatar's body. There were many theories, but each was discredited. The tank was safe, you were all sure, even if you did not know anything of the amniotic fluid within it. It wasn't scratched, didn't show any signs of opening, it displayed nothing at all. So what could be the cause?
The answer went unanswered for another two months. Until, at the third month, Norm realized that the size lined up with that of a human pregnancy. It was already the size of a seven month old baby bump. Which meant... soon enough, the vacant avatar would be having a baby.
There was hardly a discussion of who would raise it. Jake knew that he was indebted to Grace, that even though he had yet another child on the way, whatever came of Grace's avatar was his to take care of.
Kiri was born first. Lo'ak was soon to be on his way. However, the season for the first communion with Eywa was approaching. Though having the three of them commune with the Great Mother at the same time would be wonderful, the first communion was not to be delayed.
While Jake helped Neteyam attach his queue to the Tree of Souls, you helped Kiri.
Her eyes, her smile, toothless even, her dilated pupils... She was elated. She was so happy, and you mirrored her smile too.
This wasn't your kid, wasn't Jake's either, but you would raise her as one of your own.
Lo'ak and Kiri... they both came out with five fingers and little eyebrows. It was a scary thing, to have children that looked different from everyone else. Jake knew that, with an Avatar body, it was possible. Seeing it himself, though...
Neteyam, being oldest, required a little less care. He slept by himself at his crib. The newborns slept with you whilst the two of you waited for Neytiri's hunt.
Lo'ak was cuddled up in his father's arms, Kiri in yours. Her fingers were wrapped around your smallest finger, what Jake would call his ring finger. "Five fingers.." You muttered to yourself. You'd counted them many times over.
Jake hears you. "And eyebrows."
"Just like you." You muse with a laugh. Jake laughs along too, but you notice the difference; his laugh lacks its usual humor.
"What is it?" You ask, concerned lace with his words like the weaving of a necklace.
"Nothing." He shakes his head. He couldn't worry you, especially because he wasn't even sure if these five fingers and eyebrows would make any difference.
"I can tell there's something." You remain stubborn, scooting even closer to him. It was one of the qualities he actually loved about you, as annoying as it could be. "You can't evade me, darling."
"Darling? You picked up the word?"
"Jake." You're deflecting.
"I know." He sighs, "I know. It's just... They're different, Kiri and Lo'ak, different from others their age. It's not something I want for them."
"You think it'll affect the way they are treated?"
"Yes."
"Darling." You repeat the pet name more stern now, calling for his attention. He lifts his gaze from his baby boy to meet your eyes. They're yellow, they're golden, just like his. "You were different. But now you are not. You're Olo'eyktan, one of the us; one of the people, one of the Omatikaya. These children are yours, and they are mine. They are part of the Omatikaya."
"But they–"
"Extra fingers, extra hair on their face. The eyebrows are expressive, lovely. The fingers are good, help with dexterity." You tilt your head forward, "They will be fine."
Just as the same as he yearns to hold you, he wishes he believed you. For now, however, he settles on your only point of contact being your lips, and his assured belief about these children being that you and he would love them to the ends of the Earth.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
The differences meant nothing to Jake, there would be no change in the way he treated them. Soon enough, he'd sort of forgotten, for the most part.
What couldn't be forgotten, though, were his Olo'eyktan duties.
The problem was, you were gone for a little while. The second problem was, Neytiri was taking care of Neteyam. Now that didn't quiet seem like a problem, but she was taking care of him before you left and before he realized he had important Olo'eyktan stuff to do. He couldn't just bother Neytiri to take care of his kids! The third problem was, they were his kids! He couldn't just leave them. They were hardly two months old.
So now, he was left with a dilemma. Baby carriers.
For humans, it was a little embarrassing to, as a father, be wearing one of them. But to the Na'vi, it was just another part of life, a necessity.
Jake was a Na'vi now. He had to get over human societal norms.
"Hanging in there, baby girl?" Jake asks Kiri–as if she can understand him–who unfortunately has to take the tight space on his back.
After getting the silent answer he was expecting, Jake begins his work. As expected, no Na'vi seem to pay him any mind. They greet him just the same as any other day, the only difference being the small coos directed at his children. He's just happy they love them.
As Jake checks his daughter is safe on his back for the umpteenth time, he hears something wrong.
Click.
He stares ahead, obviously disturbed. His eyebrow furrows as he finds the camera, with a diminishing flash, being held by the scientist he regrettably called a friend.
"Norm, don't you have shit to do?" The swear word doesn't faze him, for the babies were too young to even register the word.
The scientist adjusts his exopack over his shit-eating grin. "Research, Jake." He gives off a hint as his amusement with each word he speaks, "I’m capturing the Mighty Toruk Makto in his natural form. Which is adorable." He winks.
"Uh-huh." Jake replies; contrasting his friend, he remains unamused. "Kiss the dark side of my blue–" Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Mo'at. Shit, Mo'at. She knew English and he needed to talk to her.
"You are a lucky man, Norm." Jake turns on his heels, leaving Norm behind as he heads towards the Tsahìk.
When he does so, though, Kiri turns her head as much as she can to stare at the human scientist curiously. Norm takes the opportunity.
Click.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Lo'ak and Kiri were, relative to their brother, the same age. They also looked the most like each other, excluding their father. They both had the characteristic traits of an avatar, traits that set them apart from the rest of the clan. Because of this, you thought they'd be inseparable, best friends. Instead, they fought, and fought, and fought.
It was weird, even, that Kiri often sought out her older brother's company over her baby brother's.
These peculiarities' origins, however, were solved when you realized the common point of these arguments. Lo'ak. Lo'ak was a troublesome kid in that he loved freedom, and even more, loved to be possessive.
Within seven years, many things were taught. Jake, for one, learned much of the Na'vi language. In fact, it was practically English to him. Sometimes he forgot what language he began the sentence with, and he would end up starting with Na'vi and ending with English or mixing in a couple words in the middle.
As far as the kids were concerned, it was gibberish. At least, for a couple years. After they dominated the Na'vi language well enough, they began to learn English. Their main teacher was their father, not their sempu, so when things like this happened...
"I hate you times infinity, Lo'ak! Penis face!"
It was his fault.
After the kids' argument was swiftly dealt with (the toy had to be threatened to be cut in half, and then they stopped), Jake places the toy in Kiri's hands. "Kid, go find your brother." He sighs, "You can play with him."
"I don't wanna play with him." Lo'ak crosses his arms, stomping his foot. "He's a sucker."
"Hey, now, that's not a good thing to say about your brother." Jake presses a harsh finger against his son's shoulder. "What would Neteyam think?"
"It's true! And he needs to know it!"
"If your sempu was here, you'd be–"
"Sempu's here." You call. The kids didn't really realize you heard the beginning of what Jake was going to say. Instead, they run to hug you. Kiri drops the much beloved toy they so desperately wanted earlier, in favor of wrapping her arms around your waist.
You scoop each of them up, each held by one strong arm. Even so, knowing that the position is weak, they steady themselves by wrapping their small limbs as far around you as they can. "Now, what was it that you needed me for?"
"Nothing, sempu." Kiri shakes her head, pressing her head against your shoulder. "Just a little dispute."
"Yes. A dispute." Lo'ak agrees with the wide nod of his head, though he pronounces the word much worse than Kiri does. Seems he slacked off on their latest English lessons and somehow ignored the word "penis" that Kiri vividly recalls.
"Ooh, dispute? Where'd you learn that big word, huh?" You coo, rubbing your nose into her hair. She laughs at the feeling, it's almost ticklish.
"Dad." She replies simply.
"Yeah, well, they also managed to learn the word "penis" from me." While you gawk dramatically at your children, Jake sticks his tongue out at them just as childishly. Little suck ups. He mouths.
Lo'ak sticks his tongue back out at his own father, to which you slap him gently on the hip. "What situation requires that," You think of a suitably negative word , uglily scrunching up your nose so that the children can have something to laugh at. "despicable word?"
"Lo'ak," Kiri is quick to tell, "was trying to steal my toy!"
"No I wasn't!" Lo'ak huffs. If he were on the ground, he'd have stumped his feet. Instead, they kick the air.
"Yes you were!" She retorts.
"Which one, the one so sadly on the floor?"
At the mention of its position, they both turn their gazes towards it. Kiri dares to mutter a little "uh-oh" as her eyes find it. Whilst they are distracted by the dread building up in their bodies, you look to Jake. Go find Neteyam. I'll deal with these two.
Silently, he nods, and slips away while the children begin to make up excuses. As he walks down the river bank, he hears a shout from the house. "You're a big fat liar!"
If memory served right, Neteyam wanted to visit Neytiri. Out of all of their kids, he took to her the most.
A part of him, at the back of his mind, wonders how all his children will react once they learn who their mother is.
He doesn't indulge in the thought. Instead, he focuses on the task ahead. The path from his home to Neytiri's was one he memorized, and he made sure when he built his home that it wouldn't be a long distance.
He doesn't expect to find the two of them, Neteyam and Neytiri, outside of the house. Neither does he expect his son to be so vigorously training even after training hours.
"That's it. Remember your stance." Neytiri advises Neteyam, patting his shoulder. "You're doing great."
"Hey!" Jake greets the two. The sudden call surprises Neteyam, which makes his shot fly off to the side.
The boy frowns, but his lips soon lift as he turns to greet his father. "Hi dad."
"Hello, my son." He nods. His smile turns a little more stern as he turns to Neytiri. "Hello, auntie Tiri. What's going on?"
Neytiri opens her mouth to speak, but Neteyam taps her thigh and mouths a little something. It's not hard to read his lips, nor had he tried to hid it so hard, but Jake looks away out of respect.
Auntie Tiri nods and looks back up to Jake, "I figured he needed some practice."
"He practiced this morning."
"I know." She raises one hand up in surrender, "Practice makes perfect." She ruffles Neteyam's hair. Though coming from his dad it was annoying, it is apparently endearing coming from his aunt. "Could I talk to you in the house?"
"Of course."
She hardly waits for him to reply before she pats Neteyam on the head again and says, "I'll be right back, keep practicing."
Neteyam nods excitedly. However, Jake stops him. "No, put that down." It dampens his son's spirits, but he nods. Both of them know that something could go wrong if Neteyam practices unsupervised.
Neytiri rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. Instead, she heads inside, Jake close behind.
"What is it that–"
"Your son, our kid, " She begins with firmness. "he came to me asking me to help him improve."
"What? He's only seven." Jake reasons, "Why would he?"
"He's your oldest." She replies simply. "Your heir, the next Olo'eyktan. There's a lot of pressure that comes with that." She spoke with experience. Between you, him, and her, she had so much more experience. He wonders sometimes how they've come to this arrangement, if she could be a better mom than he, a dad.
"Yeah… I know. But I don't give him any pressure. I make sure of it." Does he really? Are each of his words premeditated, thought out?
"He's only a year older than Lo'ak and Kiri, but he already has it ingrained in him that he has to protect them." Neytiri crosses her arms, giving him a pointed look, "Like you said, he's seven. He still deserves to be hugged and kissed."
"I try to."
"You try to?"
"It's hard when, you know…" He sighs, "your parents coddled your brother more than you."
She purses her lips, thinks it over. "I may not know about you and your brother," She begins on a lighter note. "but I know that you can relate your experiences with him with our children, your sons. At least you know what not to do. Just make sure they know you love them, and that they are still children that should play, while you still can."
"Yeah." He nods, "I will."
☾⋆☆⋆☽
The children played with each other, for once not beckoning their parents into play or sparking arguments between each other.
So for the first time in a long time, you had some moments of peace.
"He reminds me a lot of Neytiri, Neteyam." You spoke in a hushed voice, wary of their young ears.
"How so?" Jake squeezes your shoulder, his arm wrapped around it.
"His smile. It's a lot like hers. Toothy, isn't it?" He was smiling right now. Though it didn't compare to some of his biggest moments of joy, his smile still displayed his growing teeth. It was adorable.
He only has to think of it for a moment before agreeing, "Yeah."
"He's good with his bow. Don't doubt that he'll make a great hunter one day. And his love for Ikran..." Your face lights up at the memories, "even though he doesn't have one."
"About that, love..." Jake begins solemnly.
You turn to him, away from your playing children, at his serious tone. "What is it?"
"Neteyam," He glances over at the boy. Thankfully, he hadn't heard him speak his name. He lowers his voice and continues, "Neytiri told me he's been trying to get better at using a bow."
"Hm, well, he's probably trying to impress us."
"And that he wanted to protect his siblings. He feels," He purses his lips, "like its his responsibility. It's what he worries about."
"Does he?" You huff, "He has asked a lot lately, about the dangers of the jungle. I thought he just wanted to look out for himself, but now that I think about it..."
"He wanted to know so that he could keep his siblings safe." Jake finishes for you.
"Hey, I wanted to play with it!"
"I had it first!"
Before either of you can act, Neteyam stands first. He gives you only the smallest of glances before pushing his siblings away from each other.
"What? Hey!" Lo'ak shouts.
"Go away, Neteyam!" Kiri struggles against her brother's hold.
At his sudden interference, the toy falls to the ground. Neteyam kicks it to his feet. "Stop fighting!" He hisses at the both of them, making them falter. "It's either one or the other. Got that? You can take turns."
"Me first!" The children scream simultaneously, Kiri finishes her sentence first by a millisecond.
"Ugh." Lo'ak groans, but he begrudgingly kicks the toy in her direction. "Fine, you can have it first. But you get ten minutes!"
Kiri grins, picking up the toy, "That's good enough."
With the argument over, Neteyam smiles. He turns back towards his own toy, but not before sparing a not so subtle glance in your direction. Seeing your encouraging smiles, his own grows larger.
"He didn't need to do that."
Jake nods, "But he did, anyway."
"You're right." You shake your head with a sigh, "We should wait for the right moment to tell him."
☾⋆☆⋆☽
That moment doesn't take long.
Lo'ak had grown restless at home, and even more at the village, so he proposed one thing: to let him and his siblings explore the jungle. It wasn't a surprising proposal, you'd allowed them to do so many times before. Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak often explored the jungle; so, you allowed it without a thought.
The jungle was a beautiful place, one you were proud to call home, so you were happy that your children were falling in love with it too.
However, as curfew grows closer and your children do not return yet, your worry begins to grow.
The children had shown time and time again that they knew curfew, knew the way home, knew to come back safely. You trusted them to come back.
Your rapidly growing concern and restlessness burst, and you must find them yourself. As much as Jake had reassured you, as much as you wanted to trust them, something was clearly wrong. You had to find them.
As you mount your ikran, though, they emerge from the tree line.
Neteyam and Lo'ak prop Kiri up, helping her walk. They've got her arms around their shoulders. Together, the three of them, they're mismatched. Lo'ak wishes to run, Neteyam doesn't want to injure Kiri further, and she is weak.
You're quick to whisk Kiri up and bring her inside, whilst Jake grabs a hold of his sons and brings them in too.
You place Kiri down on your hammock, "Where does it hurt?"
"My side." She yells back, her eyes spilling fresh tears. She was scratched up everywhere, from her arms to her knees, but the most concerning gash was on her side. It was a long cut, spanning from her belly button to her chest.
"I got you, baby girl." You assure.
While you rush to patch up Kiri, Jake squats in front of his sons and questions them. "What happened?"
Neither boy wishes to speak, but between the two of them, the culprit is clear. Still, he knows that he has to wait for them to speak up. If Neteyam speaks first, Jake will know what the boy has burdened himself with. If Lo'ak speaks, he will know that the boy has the responsibility to admit his own faults.
Regardless, because none of them speak, Kiri does. She clearly wished to have the culprit, which inadvertently caused her injuries, be punished. "Lo'ak led us to a forbidden area!"
"No I didn't!" Lo'ak bites back.
"Yeah, I did." Neteyam steps forward and puts an arm in front of his brother in order to shield him from his father's impending scolding. "I convinced them it wasn't such a dangerous place."
There it was. Neteyam taking the blame. He took protecting his siblings so far, that he was willing to take the blame and the punishment for what Lo'ak did. Jake hated it, hated that he reminded him of his brother so much.
"Neteyam, you and I both know you know the dangers the most." Jake points a finger at him, "So step back."
The boy follows his instructions, but for once, not obediently. He looks down at the ground and backs off with a subtle scoff.
"Oh, so now you decide he's not to be believed?!" Lo'ak huffs, crossing his arms. "I didn't–"
"You did." Jake interrupts him, "And I need you to admit it."
"Fine!" Lo'ak shouts, "I did it! But I didn't think it would be so dangerous."
"I know that, son." Jake says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lo'ak tries to shake it off, but he ultimately fails to do so. He settles on ignoring its heavy presence. "But you're still responsible for the consequences."
"I didn't mean for Kiri to get hurt." The boy mumbles.
"Tell that to her."
"I'm sorry, Kiri." He mumbles that too, but Kiri hears it anyway.
Though she rolls her eyes, something Lo'ak can't see because you cover her body with your own as you work away, and accepts the apology, "Fine." She hisses slightly, which Lo'ak mistakes as directed to him. The sound makes him falter.
"The two of you, listen to me." Jake places his other hand on Neteyam's shoulder, pulling the brothers close to each other.
"You should listen too." You tell Kiri. She nods.
"You should all to take care of each other, equally. That means protecting each other. Not just you, Lo'ak; not just you, Kiri," He nods in each of his kids' directions, "not just you, Neteyam. You got that?"
Neteyam nods immediately, while Lo'ak nods with a scowl and eyebrows knitted. He was displeased to be asked to act just like his stuck up brother.
"Hey." Jake shakes his son not so gently to make sure he is paying attention. "Lo'ak, I need you to protect your siblings. Because, in this world, it's not just you. It's all of us, it's this family. Your brother, your sister, they need taking care of. And if we're not there, who will do that? You. You have to."
"It's not an "if he can't do it, then I have to"." You cut in to add, "It's not a toy to be passed around. It is something you should all be doing, all the time."
"Today was just an example. Tomorrow," He gestures to the side with the nod of his head, "if things do not change, worse things can happen."
"Okay." Lo'ak nods. Though the solemn look on his face is new and different, it meant he was taking it seriously.
Jake nods too, "Good. Neteyam," Knowing that the boy will be much more affected by his words, Jake keeps it simple. "that means it's not all up to you. Don't take the fall for things you didn't cause."
"Okay." Neteyam agrees too.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Auntie Tiri loved to visit the kids. Though she knew she wasn't their mother in the family sense, she still thought of them as her own children. You weren't one to complain, much as you teased her, because it meant you and Jake could have some time of your own.
"Second time this week?" You laugh, greeting Neytiri at the entrance. "It's only just beginning, too."
"If I birthed them, I at least get to raise them." Neytiri argues. The words don't make much sense to the children, thankfully, or else you would have a lot of explaining you weren't quite ready for.
You roll your eyes and let her in. As she passes you, you walk outside. Behind you, you hear screams of delight as the children see Neytiri.
After Jake says his temporary goodbye's, he follows you outside.
He lets out a sigh of relief as the even fresher air of the outside washes over his face. "It's been a while since we got to be alone, right?"
"Just two days, my love." You remind him. "Neytiri visited two days ago."
"Hmm," He snickers, "right."
He lets out a yawn, stretches his limbs far up into the sky. As he brings them down, though, one arm not so subtly wraps around your waist. Even less subtly, it pulls you close to his side. "Wanna go for a walk?" He offers nonchalantly.
You chuckle, placing a hand a on the one he's got around you. "Sure."
The benefit of being alone with each other often was that your children were not responsibility for the tiniest of moments. It also meant you didn't have to speak of them.
But usually, as your children are the light of your life, most things end up being about them.
"Your hair's starting to dread up, love." You remark, wrapping the end of one of his locks around your finger. It was just a little strand, but the hair above clumps together.
"Ah, well, I don't have the time." He sighs, "Between Olo'eyktan duties, giving advice to folk, taking care of the kids..."
"I could braid it for you." You offer.
"I heard that takes a long time." He says, but he's done more than hear it. He's witnessed it, seen your children slouched over themselves, falling asleep whilst your fingers still nimbly worked on their braids. "Don't know if I've got enough."
"Well, we can keep it dreaded." You shrug, "Whatever you like."
"What do you like?" He retorts.
You roll your eyes. "Whatever you like to wear will be what I love, Jake."
"That's an awfully sweet," He begins slowly, coaxing a soft smile out of your lips. "lie. Too uncharacteristic of you, my darling."
You laugh. The sound is... young. It sounds young. You've known each other for seven years now, been parents for most of that time, and you've matured so much since the first time he laid eyes on you. Those laughs, ones without the worry of your children or responsibilities, had seemed forgotten. He's glad it's still there.
The conversation falters and you fall to comfortable silence; but something picks at Jake, at the back of his mind.
"Is there..." He pauses, not too sure if he really wants to mention it. He's already started, though, and he does feel as though it is something that should be talked about. "anyone Lo'ak reminds you of?"
"Lo'ak..." You hum as you think, "well, Lo'ak is his own person. He's a special kid. There's no one quite similar to him. Why do you ask?"
"He reminds me of myself. My younger self." Jake says. It was the original thing he wanted to say.
"Oh."
"Reckless, quick to jump into a fight, defensive, couldn't take the blame... I couldn't take anything seriously." He lists off things, each one putting a dampener on his mood. "A child in a man's body."
His lowering spirits were affecting yours, so you stop your walk to make sure your next words are registered fully. You take his hands in yours and begin, "Some of those things aren't always bad. Defensiveness means, well, you're protective of your loved ones. And not taking things so seriously... you can always make me happy. You can lighten any situation. As for the recklessness, well, it was always funny when you failed at some Na'vi things."
"Hey!"
"What I'm trying to say is, you're still defensive, you're still humorous in harsh situations. These are both things of your younger self and the self that stands before me." You bring a hand to his cheek and he nuzzles against it. "They are part of who you are; and those same things, they're part of who Lo'ak is. If we tried to change them, Lo'ak wouldn't be himself. All of those traits are bad at varying degrees. If we teach him correctly, he can still be himself. Less reckless, more serious, but still himself."
Much as an annoying rascal he was now, it was the Lo'ak Jake still loved, has loved for seven years. He couldn't imagine his son any other way.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Everyone loved Neteyam. It was hard not to.
Lo'ak and Kiri, on the other hand, often received many stares. It was harder for them to make friends outside of the family; harder to avoid the comments about their fingers and eyebrows. Though Lo'ak had a penchant for an argument (which had lessened ever since you began parenting him better) this was where he and Kiri agreed.
When Neteyam played with his friends, Lo'ak and Kiri often stuck together. Their differences and toy-sharing difficulties were pushed aside.
Neteyam often tried to coerce his friends to play with Kiri and Lo'ak, they were only a year younger after all, but it usually devolved into asking them why they had such funny fingers.
Jake and you often noticed it. You saw your children's awkward, uncomfortable faces. But you knew things would only be worse if you interfered. Children were often like that, picking at the little things. Just kissing your children would earn them the nickname of "sempuyä 'evi". Besides, they needed to be independent.
It was a matter that sparked concern between you.
"I was right about their differences." Jake grumbles. He subtly observed his children from above, at a high point in the village. Less people were going to spot his vigilant dad behavior up there.
"They'll make friends eventually, find people who don't care." You reassured him, but you spoke it into the world because you were really wishing for it to happen.
"Like you?" He muses.
"If you want a comparison point." You let out a little laugh.
Jake wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. Just then, a little someone breaks through the crowd of nosy kids and sticks their hand out.
Rather than judging your children or pointing out their differences, they exclaim "Wow that's so cool!" so loudly that you can hear it from up there. It warms your heart.
Lo'ak eventually found friends that actually deserved him. Kiri, on the other hand, well, the friends found her. Unfortunately, it was after that that she discovered she actually preferred alone time better than having so many people around her, disturbing her thoughts with constant chatter. So, she didn't often talk with her friends. The only thorn on her side, though, was the human kid, Spider. She tolerated his presence often. She actually even seemed to like his voice.
But while they had gotten over that problem, Jake was still worried.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Your children had yet again become a year older. In the past year, you'd taught them all so many things. You made sure Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri were all protective over each other equally; that Lo'ak learned how to control his recklessness and maintain his humorous attitude; that Kiri felt connected to Eywa.
You knew that, when you allowed them to be on their own, they would be just fine.
After seven years of taking care of your children so actively, you no longer had to worry so much. It was sort of a relief.
Naturally, though, you sort of missed it.
"I want another kid."
"What?"
"Another girl would be nice." You hum to yourself, "She'd be the cutest little thing."
Once the initial shock wears off (because you don't just mention that out of nowhere) Jake finds himself agreeing. He, too, missed coddling his children. "Yeah, she would."
"Did you ever get a copy of the picture Norm took of you?"
"Of course not." Jake grumbles. "It's embarrassing."
"Only because you make it." You snicker, booping him on the nose. He responds by scrunching it up and flinching back. "I think it's rather cute."
"I only think Kiri was cute." He wipes his nose. "We can talk to Neytiri and–"
"I want her to be yours."
"What? But–" Jake shakes his head profusely, his eyebrows knitted together. "I can't have another kid turn out like... like me."
"Five fingers and eyebrows?" You ask.
"Yes." He replies immediately. "I can't have her be... different. Lo'ak and Kiri, they struggled to make friends because of their differences."
"You know that Lo'ak made his own friends."
"It took time." He argues, "Don't you remember his face, every time he came back home? It was horrible. In fact, he asked you to pull him onto your lap and kiss his cheeks over and over just for reassurance. Which–"
"Which he asked for because he loves me, not because it's uncharacteristic of him." You say, implying that Lo'ak loves you more.
Jake rolls his eyes. "I don't want to see another kid go through that again. I just want another normal kid that'll make friends flawlessly."
"There's nothing wrong with being special." You take his hands in yours. His hand was only bigger because of his extra finger, which wraps around your hand. You bring it up to show him, "Nothing better with being normal."
"Why... why can't you do it, then?"
"Because," You begin, smile lighting up your face. "even you still haven't gotten over your differences." Jake looks away. His silence to the accusation is as much of an answer as affirmation is. "This child will be proof that your differences don't make you any worse than a regular Na'vi. Because you are on of the people. You are the Olo'eyktan. You are one of us."
"How do you know?" He grumbles, but he was starting to believe you. "Did Eywa tell you, or something?"
☾⋆☆⋆☽
With Tuktirey, you couldn't be any happier.
And she came out, as promised, with four fingers and hairless browbones.
She was a pudgy little thing, and everyone loved her. You could see it in their eyes and their smiles that the kids loved her at first sight. Their toothy grins would grow even wider when they each got to carry her; even if Lo'ak nearly dropped her.
Though she couldn't even speak and hardly babbled, you could tell that you would come to love her.
You held Tuk in your hands, laying your head over Neteyam's legs. He made for a bony pillow, but you loved him so much you could get over it. Jake hugged Lo'ak with one arm. Kiri was sprawled horizontally over the both of you, her head laying on your stomach. Your muntxatan nuzzled his nose into your neck as he spoke, "I met your sempu while I was training."
"He fell from the tree branches onto the mud at my feet." You explain less graciously, causing an uproar of laughs from each of your children.
"Ah-ah," Jake breaks up the mocking laughter, "you say it's like Eywa sent me to you, no?"
"Okay, fine, I guess." You roll your eyes playfully.
Jake laughs. You can feel the deep rumble of vibrations going through his neck against your shoulder. "It was love at first sight."
☾⋆☆⋆☽
ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ 2: it's a cute prompt, of course, could fulfill it with headcanons, however I wanted some Lo'ak and Neteyam struggle + scared father Jake - one of these scenes (if you saw it, you know the scene) was made using the dialogue of this incredibly fucking cute fanart. It's just Lo'ak instead of Neteyam here. - I made Jake a better father because his kids deserve better
#avatar x reader#avatar x male reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x male reader#lo'ak x reader#lo'ak x male reader#kiri x reader#kiri x male reader#tsireya x reader#tsireya x male reader#tuk x reader#tuk x male reader#<- platonic#jake sully x reader#jake sully x male reader#neytiri x reader#neytiri x male reader#🌸 // success!#🌂 // failure#🎟 // avatar#🎫 // neteyam#🎫 // kiri#🎫 // lo'ak#🎫 // tuk#🎫 // jake sully#🎫 // jake#🎫 // neytiri#🎫 // tsireya
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Office Workers John Price x Reader
Warnings: 18+ MINORS, BE GONE OR BE BLOCKED! I will be checking the blogs who like this post. THIS IS VERY MDNI! I REPEAT MDNI! Why, you ask? Drinking, smoking, cheater!Simon, Bully!Gaz, Lapdog!Soap, and CEO!Price, SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT!, cheating (Obvi-Simon), vulgar language, and adult jokes. It legit starts off with you fucking Simon. MINORS BE GONE FOR THIS ONE BRO. Cannot stress it enough. Also, GHOAP!
SUMMONING!!!!: @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss @skauni @needa-sum-luvn @m-1-l-0 @staytrueblue and @karlachismylife <333
and Yes. I gave Soap his '09 scar. IT LOOKED SO HOT OKAY? WHAT AM I TO DO? IM JUST A GIRL!!!
"Si-Simon, fuck!" you gasped, your mouth wide open. Simon laughed silently as he looked up at you, he tilited the driver's seat back via the hande bar on the side of the seat, near the base, and smiled up at you. But his smile wasn't at all nice-no no. It was mean and ignorant. He knew what kind of trouble you two would get into, he didn't mind getting into to trouble himself, he always smooth talked himself out of it, but you on the other hand...you never liked trouble. Not unless it was fun trouble. Which, when Price found out about you and Simon, it wouldn't be. And knowing Price, he'd find out. "Can't-Fuck-Can't wait ter see yer pretty arse in trouble!" Simon gloated, for some reason-he always liked seeing other's below him in some sort of trouble. He didn't know why but he just did.
That's was how your night went last night. Crazy-first day on the job and you ended up fucking your manager. Wow. Good job, Me, you scolded yourself, as you sorted through papers on your cubicle's desk. Your neighbor stood up and man was he tall. Simon had called him the Boss' lapdog-he didn't look it...What with the scar in his eye and all 'round rough appearance.
"Aye, Bonnie! 'Ow was the date?" He asked, in his heavy Scottish drawl. You smiled and said, "It was rather nice, truth be told...Simon's a bit brash, but he's pretty good with woman, surprisingly." He smiled and said, "You call the ol' Ghost, Simon, now, aye?" he teased, walking over to you. You nodded and said, "He told me to." he gave you a low whistle and smirked. "But be lucky, Bonnie. The only one allowed ter call 'em that is Me-his Husband."
And that warm smile disappeared. You looked him dead in the eyes and asked, "What?" stupidly. He looked down at you, his lips pressed into a thin white line. "Sure, it's not the first time he's cheated...but it is the first with a Woman...makes me question some things..." he gurmbled as he stared down at you, you, being you, stayed sat in your chair and gulped. "If it makes it better-he told me-"
"That i wuz single. Aye, Love. 'Ello, Y/n," Simon said walking over, her pressed a kiss to his supposed husband's forehead, and you swear you could see tears in your work-partner's eyes. "Wuz jus' sum fun, Soap. 'S all, Baby." "Just some fun? Really, Simon?" Soap, you guessed his nickname was, said through his teeth, you gulped again. "You cheated on may-with a fuckin' rookie! And a Girl nonetheless, ye bastard!"
You stood up and said, "Look, I'm so sorry, Sir. If I had known that-" "Naw, I don't blame ye, Bonnie! I blame tha' ol' Bastard right there." and he jerked his thumb in the direction of Simon. You sighed and then Gaz, the old asstant of the CEO's came out of his room and said, "The boss wants to see you, Y/n. I dunno why, so don't ask."
You swear you and everyone around you could hear your heart drop. You walked over to your CEO's office-the only time you ever saw him was when you were being interviewed by Laswell. He had walked in to ask her something, forgetting that she had you on the schedule. You knocked on the door and it opened so you poked your head in.
"Sir-you called?"
"I did. Come in, Y/n."
"Yes, Sir."
if only you knew how much you affected him. He only ever saw you one time-but fuck you were...captivating. He tensed slightly and then said, "Call me, John." to which you nodded. "Of course...John." Huh...sounded pretty coming from your mouth...wonder what else would.
"So...your new, you don't know much of well...anything, Love, so I'll give you the run down."
you gulped, "If i may ask before we start sir, what did i do wrong?" "Oh its not what you did wrong! It's what one of my...lowers did wrong, more so." "Oh..." "But you too are...semi at fault here-you entertained a certain...thought. Even acted upon it with a certain, Simon Riley?" you quirked a brow up. "Yeah...i went a date-" "Well let me tell you-you missed work with the excuse that you were sick...lying to me isn't a good idea, swee'eart." you gulped. "Uhm...I uhh, didn't call off, Sir-" "Oh really? I hope you know we, for legal reasons, record every phone call we get at this company, Y/n."
you were in huge trouble...You knew it. John looked up at you from where he was sitting and said, "I don't approve of Simon's ungodly habits. Never have-never will. But you, poor you, really...you didn't know he was married. Went to the wedding m'self. Wasn't big but it was nice," he listed off to you, you nodded. "Sit down, sit down! So sorry i havn't asked you before where are my manners?" He joked as he held his hand out to an empty seat across from him. "You aren't being horribly punished-but you will be punished just ever so slightly, Birdie." You nodded.
You deserved to be. You had helped Simon cheat on Soap. His name tag said, "John" you just now recalled. So, two John's at this office, huh? Wow....pay checks must get mixed up. "Are you listening, Y/n?" "Yes, Sir." "Good. So, you will be under strict supervision now, for about three to four weeks. I'll give you Kyle's old office. He's moved up in the chain now, don't worry. He's just a rank above you....same as John, truth be told." You nodded, "Right...so you'll move me into his old office?" "Yeah, that's right. That alright with you, Love?"
You nodded as butterflies flew into your stomach. You always had liked British nicknames. They gave you a sense of comfort-and turned you on a good amount too...but what you forgot is that the English are very smart too. Very observant, very attentive...John, even more so. He could see the gears in your head turning and then getting stuck up on that nickname, and every other one he called you. He could basically Hear the rate of your heart, and the fact you were blushing only confirmed his theory.
"Good to know you approve, My Dear."
and oh lord, your reaction was priceless. Red face, struggling o keep composure...poor thing. One single little nickname sent all of your hormones rushing to your cunt as if it hadn't been fucked the night before.
#call of duty#cod modern warfare#cod#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#call of duty fanfic#call of duty smut#call of duty x reader#modern warfare#call of duty mwii#call of duty mw3#call of duty mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#captain john price#john price#captain price#cod price#john price x reader#price#mw3#modern warfare iii#cod john price#john price cod#price x reader#price x you#price x y/n#captain price mw2#captain johnathan price#john price smut#captain john price smut
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Mafia Trilogy !Yandere¡
Ranked On Insanity
A/N: This is purely my opinion on them. We all interpret their characters differently so don’t come at me if you don’t like their placements. I’m trying to be kind of accurate to their characters but also do fan service…I’m stressed so plz 😪
Requests open: 24/7
Warnings: Yandere and toxic themes.
Masterlist
I’m ranking them in three different categories…
Delulu to not as delulu
Batshit and completely delusional
These are the men who are at the point of no return….They are willing to do anything to get you at any cost. I do not say this lightly like I mean they are willing to do anything
My boy John has the entire c.i.a. at his very disposal and you think he won’t use it to find you??? He’s going to get you. Sam will too,, He’ll send out multiple men to come hunt you down if you even dare to hide from him. They do not give a flying duck if you don’t even have romantic interest in them, you are their darling. That’s the end of discussion.
Whatever they want you to do, you’re going to do it. There’s no rationalization with these two. Lincoln and Tom give them all the talks they want but they will not listen. Pushed to the brink enough and their friends are not safe either from their delusional thinking.
You already saw what Sam did to Paulie…imagine what he’d do for his darling. Not the ideal men for normal girls. You will be tormented every single step of your relationship with either one of these men.
No effort is made to hide their sinister behaviors and your eyes will bear witness to their horrific atrocities. If you push them too far they might even harm you eventually. There is no escaping or telling what their insanity will make them do.)
Sam Trapani
John Donovan
Pretty fucking crazy but is in a weird gray area between the other two
They are in the middle. Paulie is already an irrational brute and Vito is a traumatized Soldier, so they are definitely operating weirdly.
They both have similar desires of wanting a partner but have been dealt an unlucky hand when it comes to dating so when you came along…they couldn’t let you go. Their obsession comes from a place of codependency..they need you sooo badly and they cannot go back to their old cold life without you.
They really do care about their darling, truly. They’ll do whatever they can to organically win over your love and trust. Sure they will be super touchy, maybe a little too bossy or over protective of you but they mean well��� they truly want to be the “chill bf” but who are they kidding??? They are cray cray in the membrane.
At any moment they can and will snap…their delusions will get the best of them if pushed to that point. If they feel like you’re going to leave or are constantly rejecting them, they will do a full 180 and turn into the previous bunch. They are extremely accusatory and feel like you’re constantly trying to cheat or leave them. Tons of arguments and unsavory punishments.
I can’t say they’d do exactly all the same things as the previous much like they’d never physically hurt you or make you watch their crimes but they are damn near close to being like them…
Paulie Lombardo
Vito Scaletta
Average Mafia Member
These men are still very much Yandere and are willing to kill and fuck shit up for you but aren’t as delusional as the rest. Like on average people terms they are very yandere but in comparison to other members of the mob…eh.
I know this is going to piss hella people off but I can’t imagine any of these three holding you against your will or being overly passionate about their darling.
Your safety comes first and they are more go with the flow kind of men. Especially Lincoln and Tommy, despite their desires, your wishes come first. Joe is just Joe, he cares a lot about you but on average he’s like fuck it…it’s your life girl-. Forced intimacy and everything isn’t their thing.
If you really weren’t romantically feeling them they’d just become platonic yanderes and make sure you’re safe from a distance. If any moment you changed your mind they’d be right there waiting to give you the world but if not they really won’t do too much about it. These men would have to have been romantically invested in you for years for them to snap and become like the rest .)
Tommy Angelo
Lincoln Clay
Joe Barbaro
#headcanon#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#mafia trilogy#yandere sam trapani#sam trapani x reader#john donovan#John Donovan x reader#paulie lombardo x reader#vito scaletta x reader#tommy angelo x reader#Lincoln clay x reader#yandere mafia#mafia 2#mafia 3#mafia definitive edition#mafia ii#mafia iii
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Business of Love - Cruel Notes (Pt. 5/8)
Gavin (He/They) x Lily (They/Them), Malik (He/Him), and Harper (He/Him)
A @campwillowpeakvn fanfic
Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Blackmail, Threats
Word Count: 885!
Gavin's hands shook as he read the letter scrawled in red ink. The police eventually confirmed it wasn't blood, but it still looked like it. It was shakily written, unconfident but definitely Lily's handwriting. Along the top half of the paper, there are tear stains. Not many but enough for them to be noticed and smudge some of the letters.
My belov-d Hyeon,
Please pardon my absence. My heart aches for you, but for your own safety I cann-t return home. I cannot return to you without putting you in d-nger.
There isn't much I c-n say about where I am. I am fed and shelt-red. I miss you.
Suddenly, the handwriting changes, far more messy and aggressive, less gentle than Lily's.
There is no way they'll ever return. Give up. I've already taken the ring.
Leave my lover. Never contact or seek them again.
Lilith is mine.
Gavin's heart sank through the floor each time he read it, looking over and over at every word, every detail to see if it was possible to discern where they are. Who has them. Everything in him ached for Lilith and he felt useless not being able to bring them home.
They were barely taking care of themself at this point, losing sleep and having to take time off work because they just... Can't handle it. Malik had been staying over because Hyeon couldn't handle the silence of the house. The lack of someone else there. Even if he wasn't Lily, knowing they weren't alone was a big relief.
"Hey, do you want me to order takeout again or...?" He asked quietly, not sure if his college buddy would respond. "Gavin...?"
Malik's eyes settled on the letter in their hands, gently plucking it from the shorter of the two. The blue-haired architect reached up to grab it but Malik raised it out of his reach.
"Nah dude, you need to stop stressing over it. The police already have the original, rereading the copy you have won't make Lily appear. Stop." He said, his expression softening as he saw Gavin's red eyes. "I know you're struggling with this, trust me I understand. I would fucking freak if I were in your shoes. Lily was my friend too Gav, I'm also really worried about them."
"No Malik you don't... I mean you do get it but there's things I can't tell you and there's a reason why Lily and I don't go on trips without each other and—" Gavin was starting to tear up, thinking about how difficult it must be for Lilith to be unsustained for so long. His words started to blur together as he spoke faster, "I physically need to be near Lily or else they—"
"Or else what, Gav?"
"Lily gets sick..." His voice broke as he barely got the words out. Malik didn't... particularly understand why Gavin was so sure that Lilith would get sick if they were far away from him but... His best friend was also extremely sure of this.
"Okay... I don't have a clue how that happens but..." He paused before sighing, "I believe you dude."
"I just... I need to see them, to make sure they're okay." They said, dropping their head. Malik rubbed their shoulders for a second before pulling them into a hug. The architect was a wreck without Lily and honestly their entire friend group was incredibly stressed.
They all knew Lilith was pretty but, they respected the fact that they were in a relationship with Gavin. So finding out that they were kidnapped was a huge shock. Especially when the letters started.
The first few were vague threats telling Gavin to keep away and stop searching for Lily.
Eventually they ramped up to death threats.
Then, the blackmail came.
It started with threats towards Gavin's family, saying that they'll be physically hurt unless he stops looking for Lily.
After that, there were letters in Lily's handwriting pleading for Gavin to stop but with the tear stains and the aggressive writing under it, the police told him that these were likely coerced.
Gavin was growing unsure of how to handle it all, unsure of how to bring Lily back.
The latest letter stung like a knife. They were getting vague and infrequent again. Did this mean they'd stop?
Would he eventually never hear about them again?
How... How did this happen?
Who is doing this?
It was breaking his heart.
...
There was a loud shattering of a window that jolted Gavin awake, a rock had flown through his bedroom window and nearly hit him.
Malik ran into the room in his PJs, looking towards the window then to Gavin. When he saw that Gavin was fine he ran to the broken panes to see if the person was still there.
It was too dark to make out much other than the dude was fucking massive. Something itched at the back of his brain, the guy was so familiar but so... Not? Like he was forgetting someone.
As Malik stared out the window and dialed the police, Gavin picked up the rock.
It had a note taped on it.
Tell the police to stop looking or I'll burn your house down. This is your final warning.
If you tell the police about this I'll do it tonight.
#✍️ - Lily Writes#🥀 - Lilith (THEY/THEM)#camp willowpeak#cwp fanfic#cwp hyeon#cwp harper#cwp gavin#oc x canon#self insert ship#camp willowpeak malik#cwp malik#camp willowpeak hyeon#camp willowpeak gavin#camp willowpeak harper
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the circle of this game came back around and I got tagged by @future-mr-red-lion (<3) on this account instead of my main so we're doing SONGS THAT MAKE ME THINK OF KLANCE for each letter of my illegible url here we go:
k - kamikaze by walk the moon
l - lacy by olivia rodrigo (tell me this isn't fem!klance lance pov you CAN'T)
a - all the pretty girls by fun (LOOK AT THIS POST by @heynhay SHE'S SO CORRECT)
i - into you by ariana grande (a little bit dangerous//but baby that's how i want it....)
s - sidekick by walk the moon (sorry but they were so peak accidentally writing klance music to me and i can't unhear it)
s - suburban legends by taylor swift (I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I always knew it that my life would be ruined) (bonus pick: style also by t swizzle)
a - alone together by fall out boy
n - national anthem by lana del rey (red white blue is in the sky//summer's in the air and baby heaven's in your eyes)
c - chasing fire by lauv
e - e.t. by katy perry (you guys cant tell me lance doesnt claim this as his anthem once he gets with keith and remembers that hes part galra like this is so funny to me)
enjoy that. tagging: everyone and also no one bc I did tags already but feel free to do this and say I told you to; I'll gladly take the fall
#tagged me#turns out this was way easier than doing this for songs i claim myself#i just have a lot of songs that are tagged for Them in my head#lmk if people want a playlist or something i could pop off#maybe this will help the members of gmvn remember how to spell my url#probably not tho#<3
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alright i’m so glad i came back on here when i did. HOLY FUCK. the newest update?!?!?! also so glad you’re bringing yuta back (purely for the possessive chenle content that i pray for) also am i seeing that her rat ass ex (no hate to him irl) is somehow getting involved??? but like chenle what are we? like actually- if i found out he did that id be on my hands and knees like yes anything. id be like he loves me 🤭 i would never shut tf up (i’m a yapper at heart) but oooooooo i cannot wait to see what happens though-i also want to say THANK YOU because i was reading she’s the man and to find out you had a role in the happy ending bless you they were stressing me out. alright i’ve yapped enough so last thoughts (im feeling sappy). i hope you’re doing well mentally and physically i really appreciate your content and im glad i can be here to support you (although i am just an anonymous face—anxiety issues) you’re important. you are loved. i hope you’re sleeping well. i hope you’re eating well. i hope you’re being treated well. giving you all my love and support for your stories and future content!! have the BEST day/night ☀️
omg hi ☀️ anon!! IVE MISSED YOUUU, hope you’re doing well!!
I just have to bring back yuta and jaehyun for the possessive chenle moments, like sorry but FAWK possessive him is so attractive… but yeah jaehyun is also involved with this
NO IKR I’D BE SQUEALING SO HARD LIKEEE GET OUTTT🙈🙈 i get you ☀️ anon, I WOULD ALSO NEVER SHUT UP LIKE YUP, HE LOVES MEEE
something pretty exciting happens and you’ll def be kicking your feet at the end of the race chapter… that’s all I can say for now hehe
YOU ARE SOO WELCOME HAHAHSHS I was so happy they decided to give haechan and y/n a happy end like TRUST I WAS STRESSING TOO LIKE PLS THEYVE BOTH BEEN THRU ENOUGH!! MAKE EM HAPPY!!
tysm!! 🥺🫶 I hope you’re doing just as well physically and mentally, it’s no problem if you’re an anon or not, just knowing you’re here supporting me is more than enough!!
WISHING YOU THE BEST AS WELLL, have an amazing day/night!!
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Actually I am glad that you posted something about Top and his reactions to things because I have had some half-formed pre-post write up thoughts brewing since yesterday about Top and your post is making me write it down. Namely that...we really don't know that much about Top, and our perceptions of him have mostly been shaped by others around us. This is, and i cannot stress this enough, NOT an attempt to woobify Top. But I feel like we as an audience have had a tendency to subscribe pretty immediately towards the Top is an Asshole vibe. Which is not helped by the fact that Force himself in an interview has said that he is ready and super excited for the fandom to hate on him. So it is totally possibly that he is, in fact, an asshole.
But I do think it really warrants a moment of pause to figure out how much truth this man is actually telling. Now, with only three episodes in and not a lot of focus on Top's perspectives on things yet, I am not going to ascribe Top's disinterest in Boston as an anxiety thing quite yet. Just like similarly, I do not necessarily believe that Top dissociates during sex, because when he was making out with Mew he was very present and engaged in those moments.
N-E-WAY
Maybe I am falling for Top's manipulations or maybe I am just looking at Top's actions, but I feel like he's genuinely been pretty open, honest, and sincere about what he wants and what he is looking for. When he goes to Mew's apartment, he makes the excuse of having a headache, but quickly moves away from that to ask "you know I was just saying that so I had an excuse to come in, right?" and Mew is like "yes"
When they make out and Mew tells him to stop, he stops, and when he shares ice cream with Mew he tells Mew that no one has ever asked him to have ice cream instead with them of fucking him. When he wants physical comfort, he asks Mew if they can share a bed, and when Mew says nothing is going to happen, Top asks if they can at least cuddle; and at first this can come off as a way Top is trying to manipulate the situation, get Mew and him to share a bed, get them to be physically close and comfortable, one thing leads to another and suddenly they are fucking, but that doesn't happen.
Even when he is in conversation with Boston in the bathroom, where you may expect him to be more candid, let his mask slip more, he has absolutely no reason to lie to Boston besides to just needle at his insecurities. And, honestly, I feel like he could piss Boston off more by being honest, regardless, what Top tells Boston is essentially the same thing Top tells Mew:
"You and Mew haven't done it yet" "I'm not in a hurry. I got time. I'll get him eventually." "He's a challenge. The more disobedient your prey gets, the more you want him, right?" "I do not only want to sleep with him but I also want to date him. He's interesting."
They go on a date, Top tries to get to sex with Mew faster by asking him to be his boyfriend the first week that they are together, and Mew is upfront with Top about only accepting the public confession to save face for Top. Mew asks to start over and Top agrees, and while they are flirting, Top does continue to hang around.
When they are at the wakeboarding place, Top is very clear that he isn't really interested in doing anything with Boston, and while he tolerates Boston in the shower, he is not particularly enjoying himself.
The second time Top stays over, he helps Mew assemble some furniture and then is regaled to the couch to sleep. Which he allows without too much pushing. When Top tells the story about being in a fire as a child and that making it difficult for him to sleep alone because he is worried something bad will happen. I know the question was circulating around here about whether or not we thought that story was true. But the thing is, it wasn't Top that came to Mew to talk about his past trauma, it was Mew who left his room to check on Top. Top didn't know Mew was awake, he didn't know Mew was gonna come out of his room when he took those pills.
In Ep. 3 we hear from Boston that Top and Mew have been dating for less than three months, though we don't get a specific time frame, and here's the thing. Mew has been incredibly, incredibly restrictive on his physical intimacy with Top. He has allowed one make out session, one kind of kiss (with the cookie), one sniff kiss, two cuddling sessions, and some dancing and nothing else. Top and Mew are not that physically affectionate with one another because Mew has drawn a really strong boundary around his body.
But that boundary is extreme for the way their relationship is progressing, and while we don't know the specific motivations for why Mew has maintained that level of distance, that lack of physical intimacy does not absolve me of the speculation that Mew is truly trying to see how serious Top is about dating Mew, rather than making Mew a conquest. If he is staying in this relationship past when someone may typically escalate their physical intimacy with a partner, then Top must actually like him.
Now, I don't know exactly what Top was planning when he brought mew home after the party, but it is worth noting that despite Top having a visceral reaction to seeing the picture of Mew and Ray kissing and having Boston dangle a video over his head, Top makes up a shitty lie about being texted by his father and tries not to leave. He wants to go inside with Mew, and it is Mew that tells him to go help his Dad.
Admittedly this could be for any reason including, hoping that Mew would have sex with him, testing Mew to see if he would ease up a bit on the boundaries as their relationship has progressed, or fully just to find a way to avoid going to see Boston. Cause I'm thinking about how when Top leaves his conversation with Boston in the kitchen at the pool party, he tries to dip with Mew pretty soon after the fact.
I don't really know where I am going with this beyond stating that I feel like Top has had some false imagery projected on to him, and I liked what you said about Top maybe being a pawn to other people @respectthepetty
I feel bad for Top
I don't like his cocky ass, but I feel bad for the strange way his slut shaming keeps playing out.
I started to feel bad for him in the second episode when Boston corned him in the shower.
And although I still don't know where I stand on his story of the childhood fire, it's very clear that Top disassociates during sex.
Good for Force's facial journey, but Top doesn't enjoy sex, which makes his story about the fire seem more plausible, as if sex is just a means to an end - a body to help him sleep at night.
Because when he was in the car with Boston, he started breathing heavily while Boston was getting closer, yet it didn't read like the kind of sexual tension breathing, but the kind that precedes a panic attack.
Perhaps Top suffers from untreated anxiety, and he copes with it through sex and pills.
I know some people don't like me saying it, but Boston is a predator who is exploiting everyone's weaknesses.
He knows what makes these people vulnerable, and he feeds on it.
He is targeting fragile people.
And enjoys it.
He, once again, trapped Top so he couldn't leave.
Now I'm worried that the more Boston traps Top, the more excessive Top will be when coping. If he already sleeps around to the extent he does to disconnect, how far will he go with the pills to escape?
But it seems like he is a pawn to everyone.
And I wonder what that does to a person. To know that he is just a body. Just a commodity used for his body.
Instead of a being a fully realized person, he is a checklist of items.
And even when he says no, people don't listen because why would a slut say no?
And when Top looks uncomfortable being approached even as the guy himself calls Mew his boyfriend, the guy still offers Top sex.
Which is probably why he respects people's boundaries since nobody respects his.
So whatever issues are between him and Sand probably deal with 1) sex and 2) boundaries since those are Top's weak spots. Pure speculation, but I think Top is looking for a fight. If he feels like his life is out of his control then feeling physical pain could be one way to gain back that control especially if he plans for the pain to happen.
And I also wonder what he will feel like to question Mew about his relationship with Ray and have Mew offer up sex to him.
Because why would a slut need anything else?
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Let's Play a Love Game
Pairing: Seungmin x afab!reader
Genre: friends to lovers kinda
Warnings: Rough, penetrative sex, degradation, fwb, choking, hair pulling, Katoptronophilia (sex in front of mirror), orgasm (f and m), jealouse, very possessive Seungmin, harddom!seungmin, brat!reader
Word count: 6k lol
Summary: Being friends with benefits was a good idea: at first. But when feelings start to grow, and a certain bet was made, everything will be put on the line: can you handle getting all or nothing?
A chuckle left your lips as you crawled out of his bed, grabbing the previously discarded clothing from the corner of the bedroom.
“Nooo,” he whined, resting his hands behind his back, “stay here for a bit longer.’
“I would love to,” you sighed, pushing your shirt back over your head, “but I have class in 30 minutes.”
“But come on,” he whispered, pushing the sheets off of his still very naked body, embracing you from behind, “we could go another round and still be done in time.”
His grip on you was strong; it made you melt instantly. Seungmin’s touch was close to none. A gentle scrape of his skin lingering on yours was enough to send you into a headspin.
Being friends with benefits was a great idea: at first. There was no harm in having a friend who was arm's length in closeness, to help relieve the stress and burdens of being a PHD college student. The proposition was a good one at first. Jisung introduced you to his group of college friends, and you and Seungmin hit it off, and now, here you are.
“As much as I would like to stay here,” you paused, turning around to face the man and pressing a sensual kiss to his lips, “I cannot be late to this class, professor Lee would not be very happy with me, especially since I’m the assistant of the lecture.”
A sigh of disappointment came from his lips as you rejected his offer.
“Okay well, do you wanna hang out later tonight, before we all go out?”
You reluctantly pulled away from his fulfilling grip, grabbing your bag from the floor and gathering your things for your departure.
“I can’t. I’m, uh, I’m.”
You tore your eyes away before you finished your sentence.
“I’m going out for dinner with Felix tonight before we all go out.”
Seungmin gritted his jaw at your words. Putting in all efforts to seem indifferent to the idea of you pursuing somebody else. He thought it went unnoticed, but it definitely did not. You could see the way his arm tensed up, eyes turning a deep shade of red. The idea made your heart skip a beat.
“Oh, that’s cool.”
You nodded, tracing your fingers across the tiny hem of your bag. Part of you felt guilty. You wanted him to be jealous, take some initiative and tell you not to go. Call Felix and tell him it’s off so you could stay and cuddle with Seungmin all night. But it simply was not going to happen. It was clear that he had no intention of making you mean anything more, which you were fine with; at first. Now it just felt like a knife to the chest, especially every time you would go out and he would be with other people, making out with them so nonchalantly. This was strictly a friends with benefits agreement, and the longer it went on, the longer you felt a piece of yourself dying on the inside.
“Is it a date?”
Your eyes snapped up to his, desperate to read any sort of emotion in his features.
“I guess. Why,” you smirked, “are you jealous?”
Seungmin laughed in utter disbelief, placing a hand on his chest, “Me? Jealous? Lucky you’re pretty y/n.”
“Hmmmm,” you furrowed, “you are correct about one thing, and that is that yes, I am very pretty. But two, I think you are jealous.”
Truth was, there was no telling if he truly was or not. However, It was definitely fun riling him up like this.
“I’m not jealous y/n.”
“Well I don’t believe you.”
“Fine,” he huffed, “what do I have to do to get you to believe me?”
“That’s the thing,” you smiled, walking up to him and playfully slapping him on the cheek, “there’s nothing you could do, Mr. Seungmin, I just don’t believe you.”
A sigh of pure annoyance escaped his lips and he sat down in defeat, accompanied by your smile of success in making Seungmin frustrated.
“I’m leaving now bye-”
“Are you trying to make me jealous on purpose?”
You stopped in your tracks, tilting your head in confusion at his statement of challenge.
“Nooo,” you whined, “I just think you are.”
“Wanna make a bet then?”
“A bet?”
“Yes,” he smirked, closing the already small gap between the two of you, “a bet.”
“Well, what kind of bet?”
“See which one of us gets jealous first.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. This was a dangerous game to play, knowing very well that it was more than likely for you to lose than him. He never once showed an ounce of jealousy before towards you. Seungmin was a carefree guy; he could pull anyone he wanted to. You could as well, but the difference was that you had feelings and he simply did not. It was a very, very bad idea, but the slight possibility of making him jealous ate you up inside.
“Deal.”
A drag of regret swept across your mind, especially since your mouth sped in front of your brain when actually thinking this was a genius idea.
“Great,” he huffed, “I guess I’ll see you tonight then.”
You strided to the door, twisting the knob and turning backward one last time to look at him,
“I will. Try not to get too jealous when I come with Felix, okay?”
You pouted, snapping the door behind you and walking to the building’s elevator. The adrenaline was already starting to course through your body. It felt like the beginning of the end. Everything felt like it was going to be put on the line tonight, and your fingers were crossed that it was going to end in your favour.
***
You glanced in the mirror one more time, finally satisfied with your appearance as you ran downstairs, grabbing your jacket and keys on the way out. The nerves were getting to you all day. Class was very difficult to concentrate on. Everything your professor was saying went through one ear and out the other. The only thing on your mind was the thought of Seungmin reacting to you with Felix; his best friend.
Felix was a nice guy, good looking, very gentle, very sweet. You grew close to him pretty quickly, helping you out a lot with work, especially since you had the same major. When he asked you out, it was a slight surprise. Yes, you were already sleeping with Seungmin, but a date was a date; what could be the harm in that?
You shut the door, seeing Felix parked out front in his black car. He stepped out of the door as soon as he saw you. The smile on his face was large, eliciting the same kind from yourself. Felix never failed to be a good mood maker. If Felix was happy, everyone was happy. He sat on the edge of his car, arms folded across his chest in his cute buttoned up dress shirt and jeans, hair slicked back, smokey eyeliner. He looked great, but you were lying if you said that you felt any kind of attraction to him in the way you were supposed to.
It made you feel guilty. The only thing that came across your mind was Seungmin. The sudden smirk that appeared on his lips whenever you came to his slightly more dressed up than usual.Your cheeks began to heat up at the thought of it. You shook your head, forgetting for a slight moment that it was Felix taking you out.
“Hey.”
“Hey Felix,” you beamed, curtseying in front of him. You rolled your eyes at how awkward that just was.
“So,” he chuckled, “are you ready to go?”
“Sure thing.”
He nodded as he opened the car door to the passenger side, keeping his playful smile spread across his face as you bent down, finding the passenger seat comfortably. You watched him through the rear mirror and he pranced around the back of the car and into the driver’s seat.
The car ride was comfortable, both of you humming away to anything and everything that came onto the radio. Felix was always a polite guy, since the day you had first met.
Before you knew it, you were already at the bar Felix must have arranged for the two of you. You got out of his car, gasping at how fancy the place looked. It was unfamiliar. Your eyebrows furrowed, which Felix took quick notice of.
“Y/n, is everything okay?”
“What,” you questioned, completely unaware that you looked somewhat angry, “oh, yes, of course! I’ve never seen this place before, is it new?”
“Oh, yeah it is, it just opened a couple of days ago.”
“Oh, it’s very nice, thanks for taking me here.”
Felix nodded at your kind words, opening another door for you as you entered, next being taken to a table reserved for just the two of you. You ordered a drink each, enjoying the gentle ambience the restaurant gave. You sat in comfortable silence once more, enjoying Felix’s kind presents as he brought his cocktail to his lps for the first time.
“So,” you began, catching his attention with the glass against his lips, “how is college treating you at the moment?”
“Oh it’s great you know,” he chuckled, placing his drink back on the table, “kicking my ass. That assignment that was due a couple of days ago really shot me down.”
“Oh really? I thought that was a piece of cake. You should have asked me to help you.”
“So you want to have a study date now too?”
The laugh that came from your chest was one of the most forced things you had ever done in your life. Your guilt was growing. You really wanted to give Felix a chance, he was such a nice guy. Very sweet. But the thought of Seungmin was running around in your mind at anything he did. The thought of you sitting across from him made your heart soar, butterflies flutter endlessly.
“Well,” you chuckled, followed by a gentle cough, “can i be honest with you Felix?”
“Yes of course.”
You gulped nervously.
“Well, I’m sure you’re aware that Seungmin and I, well, we have an arrangement, and, well I-”
“You like him, don't you?”
Your heart sank at his words. The guilt that was stirring in the pit of your stomach had reached its peak.
“Maybe,” you whispered, covering your face with your rather large cocktail. Felix reached over, placing his hand over your own.
“Y/n, it’s okay, I kinda figured.”
“Oh,” you gasped, feeling the head return to your cheeks, “am I that obvious?”
“Well you are my friend, so I don’t want to lie to you and say no.”
Your heart swelled at his use of the word ‘friend.’ He made you feel more comfortable, even though you should have been the one consoling him.
“Oh shit,” you chuckled, making him laugh slightly, “does he know?”
“No of course not,” he huffed, “Seungmin is oblivious.”
“Yeah,” you shrugged, a pang of disappointment hitting your chest, “it’s probably bad time to tell you this but-”
“Oh god, what now with you two?”
“Well, I did see him today already, and now we kind of have a bet going on.”
“A bet?”
“Yeahhh,” you trailed off, completely embarrassed by how ridiculous it truly would sound out aloud, “we made a bet to see which one of us would get jealous first.”
Felix choked on his drink before smoothly swallowing the rather large gulp he digested.
“Now why would you do that?”
“Because,” you shrugged, lifting your cocktail and effortlessly swallowing the remaining liquid in one go, “when I told him I was going out for dinner with you tonight he got well, a little jealous I think?”
“Pfft,” Felix huffed, “of course he did?”
You leapt forward slightly at his words.You most definitely needed clarity on what Felix meant by the fact that Seungmin was ‘of course’ jealous.
“What do you mean, of course.”
“Y/n, you’re a nice girl, but you’re very dense. I don't need to even ask whose idea this was, because I most definitely know it was his.”
“It was,” you mumbled, completely embarrassed by this situation.
“Seungmin likes you.”
Your eyes widened at his words. You truly weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.
“He likes me?”
“Pfft of course he does. You should have seen the look he gave me when I told him I was taking you out.”
“Wait, so” you shook your head, “this wasn’t a date?”
“Oh no y/n, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. The study date thing was a joke of course. You’re Seungmin’s girl. I would never want to step on either one of your toes seriously.”
“Oh thank god,” you sighed, way too loud and full of too much relief, “why did you ask me then?”
“I just wanted to strengthen our friendship. I know you’re Jisung’s friend, but I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing you around my apartment a lot more frequently in the future. I also would be lying if I didn’t want to tease Seungmin a little.”
“Oh,” you giggled, playfully smacking his shoulder, “you’re so sweet. Seeing as you were already teasing him, why don’t you help me out a little?”
The mischievous look that came across Felix’s lips was very pleasing to see.
“Oh yeah? What were you thinking?”
“Well, I want to win the bet of course, would you want to team up with me?”
“Pfft y/n you don’t even have to ask.”
You smiled as you lifted your glass, signalling him to cheers with you.
“Hmm,” Felix hummed after taking his last sip, “are you ready to go?”
“Well yes mr. pretend boyfriend,” you giggled, grabbing his hand and pressing your lips dramatically to the tops of his palm, “we should get going.”
***
The music at the bar was loud, and very crowded. For some reason, your quiet spot was filled with cramped, already sweating adolescents. It already wreaked of alcohol and just pure perspiration. Nevertheless, all the thoughts of disgust left your mind without a trace when you already saw Seungmin with two different girls wrapped around his fingers on either side of him. A huge pang of jealousy shot up your spine at the image. You already know that he likes you, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was basically about to have a three way makeout with two very attractive girls. If anything, it made you increasingly frustrated knowing this new information.
“Y/n,” Felix tapped you on the shoulder, obviously aware of the way of your sudden stiffness and expression of shock.
You turned to gaze at him, the reassuring smile plastered on his face definitely calmed your anger in the smallest of ways.
“Remember, I’m gonna help you, okay?”
You nodded sheepishly, allowing Felix to intertwine his fingers in yours. He pushed in front of you, assisting you to get through the large swarm of people swindling around the bar. Your eyes lit up wide when you felt the sudden touch of Felix’s fingers leaving your hand, and his entire arm wrapping around your waist, squishing him right up against you.
“Hey guys,” he screamed, trying to get everyone’s attention over the blaring speakers, “guys!”
He finally turned around, jaw tensing straight away as he fixated on the way Felix was grabbing onto you. The other boys cheered, hugging both of you and beaming largely at the fact that you were here. You turned to Jisung, not saying a word and grabbing him by the wrist to get a drink at the bar. He yelped in pain, but you were indifferent to his extremely low pain tolerance. All you needed was to stand with your back facing the man, especially when he was already all over two other girls and barely acknowledged your presence.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“Nothing,” you smiled, wanting themes to seem as normal as possible, “can’t I get a drink with my best friend?”
“Oh,” he grinned, “yeah of course. Shot?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
Jisung continued to laugh as you were catching up on the things that had happened recently. You hadn’t been able to see him in a little while, both leading such busy lives. It didn’t matter though, you guys had been friends for a long time so when you did see each other, it was like the last time you saw him was yesterday. Unfortunately, catching up on things meant you had to tell him what was going on.
“Are u fucking serious y/n,” Jisung scoffed, handing his card to the bartender before placing the tiny glass in your hand, “you’re fucked.”
Quickly clinking the glasses together, you sighed when you felt the burning liquid snake down your throat. It was a feeling you could not get enough of. Anything in this current moment was good enough to distract you from trouble in your peripheral vision .
“You don’t think I know that,” you hissed, grabbing another drink from the bartender, “he’s already gotten a head start, look at him over there, parading that he could truly pull anyone he wanted.”
Jisung rolled his eyes at your self depreciation.
“You could pull anyone you wanted yourself, look at you.”
“Yes and,” Felix interjected, “I’m going to make sure you win, okay?”
“Wait,” Jisung pouted, “he knew before me?”
“Jisung please don’t sulk,” you huffed, “only because we were hanging out before.”
“Okay fine,” he sighed, “but he’s not going to get jealous of Felix, you have to go bigger.”
“He won’t?”
The way you both said that in unison made Jisung burst out laughing.
“No, he knows Felix. You have to find a stranger.”
They both looked around for a minute, scanning anyone that would remotely for their criteria. But it didn’t take them long, especially when they both blatantly pointed at the same person.
“Him.”
You turned to look at who they chose and wow, was he hot. Messy dark hair, black shirt that was way too tight for him, and, well, you were completely distracted by how broad his shoulders were. It was as if he could feel your eyes melting his skull, because he was already beginning to make his way over. You turned around, burning lasers into the two boys as they tried to act normal; but they failed completely, abandoning you the moment you felt an unfamiliar finger tap on your shoulder.
“Hey.”
His voice startled you. So deep, seductive. You shook your head, trying to keep your mind out of the gutter. You swung around, breath hitching at how up and close and personal he already was. He was good looking from afar, but the previous distance did him ne favours. His hair was pushed back, warm eyes and lips, wow, his lips were nice. You looked down, nervous to make eye contact with such an intimidating, yet nice guy.
“Hi,” you smiled, putting your hand out in front of him, “I’m Y/n.”
“Y/n, Chan,” he replied, taking your hand and shaking it, “would you like another drink for your other, rather empty hand?”
A surge of confidence came through your body when you took another look at the one you wanted. Chan was a good looking guy, and he was the perfect tool you needed to achieve your goal.
“Of course,” you giggled, smacking his shoulder playfully, “who doesn’t love to be double parked?”
The chuckle that came from Chan’s chest was immaculate, nodding at him politely as he pointed at your new drink. You swooped it up, telling him to follow you to where everyone else was. He followed you eagerly, attracting the attention of the exact person that you wanted.
“Hey guys, this is Chan, we just met at the bar.”
The boys were polite, except for Seungmin, of course. Barely acknowledging this new stranger. You rolled your eyes, a streak of satisfaction running through you. When Seungmin was dissatisfied with something, it was obvious. Were you winning? Maybe, but there was no way of telling if he was jealous of Chan, or he was just too focused on the girls that were basically on display in front of him. You watched as the new man sat down, participating in small talk with the two who originally put you up to this somewhat challenging task. You followed him in pursuit, swinging around the pole, landing across his lap.
“Woah,” Chan gasped, taking a swig of his drink, “you okay there y/n?”
“Yes of course,” you replied, giggling at his innocent question, “did you want me to move?”
“Well no, actually,” he smirked, putting his drink down, wrapping each hand around his hips, helping you to straddle his lap, “I quite like it actually.”
A hum of satisfaction escaped your lips the moment his fingertips began wandering lower and lower. He squeezed your ass, gently pushing you closer and closer to him. A gentle moan escaped your lips when his hips lifted slightly to reach yours, the gentle friction against your core taking you by surprise. You looked up to see your two friends standing behind you giving you an obnoxious thumbs up as you continued to grind down onto Chan.
“Fuck,” he growled, tightening his grip on you, “you’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
“Well, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
You sighed loudly, muffled sounds falling into his mouth and Chan took your lips in a sensual pleasure.The kiss was soft, delicate, full of neediness from him. He was enveloping you by the second. You were lying if you said he wasn’t making you the slightest bit lightheaded. You were really starting to enjoy yourself, completely indifferent and forgetful about the bet prior.
A stifled moan escaped his lips, falling against his tongue as you rubbed yourself against him harder, fully hypnotised by how quickly he was hardening under your touch. Although you were reeling in the satisfaction of making him hard with barely any touch, you were forced to soak it up, the yank your on your arm from behind was enough to do that.
“Ow, what the fuck,” you grumbled, turning around too see who it was, roling your eyes when Seungmin was the one with his hand attached to your wrist, “what was that for?”
He ignored your question, continuing to drag you across the floor.
“Seungmin, what are you-”
“Shut up,” he growled, continuing his pursuit. You looked to where he stopped: “Unisex” bathroom. He cracked the door opening, ignoring the large creak as he pushed you inside. He slammed it behind you, locking it rather forcefully, a hint of fear concurring in your chest.
“Seungmin why are you-”
“Shut up,” he interjected, closing the space between you and the closest wall, “who the fuck was that?”
“Oh,” you smirked, letting your fingers trail delicately across his puppet arms, “you mean Chan? Yeah he was nice, wasn’t he?”
He said nothing, jaw clenching the more you spoke about how good he was to you.
“Bought me a couple of drinks, got on really well with the boys. Was thinking about taking him home tonight.”
“Fuck,” he growled, pushing your legs open with his leg, “you talk a lot about someone you just met 30 minutes ago.”
“Why, are you jealous?”
He dug his thigh further into your core, a stifled whimper bubbling in your throat, the friction against your core was already making you burn up. He ignored your question once more, hands trailing up to your waist as his digits landed on the hem of your shirt, the bartiy of skin from your skin that was exposed hitting the cold, corrupted air, sending a flicker through your spine.
“A-Answer me,” you shivered, “are you jealous?”
“Of course you would want me to admit it,” he scoffed, changing the direction of his fingertips, eyes cast down as he watched them gradually recline further and further down you paints, the substance of his fingers disappearing under the hem of your jeans, pushing past your panties, and dipping into your folds so effortlessly. He knew you too well. Being teased was something that you enjoyed oh so much, like being the little brat that you were for him.
“Just admit it,” you slurred, words becoming slightly incoherent at his delicate touch, “I made you jealous.”
He ejected his hand straight away, a small whimper escaping your lips at the loss of contact. His closeness remained however, the fiery passion in his eyes changing to pure, dark lust the longer he stared at you in your now pathetic, desperate state. It was so simple to have reduced it to a pathetic little mess, and it’s what Seungmin thrived on.
“Look at you,” he chuckled, “trying to get me to admit something. You can’t even keep yourself together from my fingers.”
His fingers lingered on the button of your jeans, popping them and unzipping, letting them fall down to your ankles. He grabbed you by your hips once more, spinning you around in a 180, bending your back over the pained sink. He stood behind you, allowing his hard on to press up in the crevice of your ass.
“So obedient,” he whispered, bending down to your level breath dancing across your earlobe, “it’s pathetic.”
You could hear the small clang of his belt being undone, hitting the metal together as he ridded himself of it, letting himself spring free from his painful restraint. He was eager to derive pleasure from you, making you feel good simultaneously. He, however, did not want to show that. He was a man of pride. There was no chance that he was going to admit that he did in fact, lose the bet. He was wriggling with pure jealousy the moment he saw Chan walk over to you. In his mind you were his. He belonged to you. You were the only person he wanted to make you feel good. Seungmin wanted you all to himself: exclusively.
“You think you can just make out with another guy in front of me and get away with it?”
“Well you’re not my boyfriend,” you mumbled, followed by a yelp as he brought force to your left ass cheek. The sting was brutal at first, but it is something that you were so addicted to. Riling Seungmin up and making him mad was something that secretly loved. Feeling the wrath of his anger, and being punished for the smallest of things never failed to hypnotise you miraculously.
“You’re such a naughty girl,” he hissed, gently stroking himself before pushing his tip into your folds, admiring the way your legs quivered at the faintest of touches, “putting on a show for everyone like that? You think I’m gonna fuck you as a reward huh? Do you?”
“Please,” you huffed, any attempt to sound in control failing miserably, “fuck me.”
“Jesus,” he yelled, prodding the tip of his cock back and forth between your entrance and your clit, “that’s all you can say? You really pissed me off y/n, you’re gonna have to beg a lot more if you want my cock.”
You were lucky that Seungmin was unable to see the smirk that was dancing across your face.
“Please Seungmin,” you whined, any previous care of sounding desperate washing away the longer his tortuous tease, “please fuck me.”
“Aren’t you cute?”
He was inching closer and closer, barely slipping his cock further and further down your hole until he was filling you up entirely. It was something you had been used to for a couple of months now. Nonetheless, it was nostalgic yet felt like the first time every time. It was like his cock was moulded exactly to please your pussy. A harsh gasp escaped his lips as he buried himself inside, never able to get enough of the way he slid so effortlessly inside of you. Seungmin’s hands were leaving your hips, the left one snaking to your scalp, the other one wrapping around your throat. He yanked you by the back of your head, rolling in the way your eyes were at the back of your head as he picked up the speed of his thrusts with each coming force. The fact that he was solely the reason you were this way was because of him.
“Such a little cockslut aren’t you,” he groaned, picking up his pace to form a relentless speed in and out of your pussy, “bet you he couldn’t do you like this, could he?”
“S-Seungmin oh, my, fucking, god,” you choked, head already dizzy from the way he was using you like a rag doll, “feels so so good.”
“I bet it fucking does,” he grunted, slightly applying more and more pressure to either sides of your neck, “you should be punished for thorwring someone in my face like that.”
Your head was now all the way back, gaze fixated on the way Seungmin looked down at his cock stuffing you. Seungmin was a dominant person always, but he had never been so rough with you before. Not that you were complaining of course, the feeling of pain while enjoying what seemed to be the high of your life was a dream come true. The idea of Seungmin caring enough to punish you was helping you come to a state of pure bliss and he unforgivingly railed you.
“Up against me,” he commanded, pausing his thrusts and removing his hands from their previous positions. He reached his hands around, breaching under your shirt and taking a grip on your breasts. You lurched forward when you felt his tips brush over your nipples, Seungmin giving each of them rough pinches, one after the other continuously. You began to ground down on his cock, straining to go back to him, filling you ur mercilessly.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
You said nothing, continuing your filthy act of desperation to feel something, anything to fill you up. He ripped his hands away from your chest, ferociously gripping your hips to cease all movement. Oh fuck, you knew you were in trouble for that.
“Look at yourself.”
Your gaze tore to the front of you. The smudged eyeliner dragging across the side of your face, mixed with the disheveled hair and rubbed off lipstick he considered to have you in such a beautiful state. The combination of your look, and the way Seungmin forced you to look at yourself in the mirror: completely out of your control, but everything Seungmin wanted.
“Look at yourself,” he grumbled once more, leaning forward slightly and pressing lips against your neck, “only I can make you like this.”
The strength of his words were like a bag of cement was attached to your foot, and you were trying to fly. They were heavy, hitting you hard; but the true harshness of his words aroused you even more. Being able to submit to someone like Seungmin appraised and reinforced all the dirty fantasies that you had previously imagined, and that you weren't able to carry out previously in your sexual rendezvous that carried over the past several months. If Seungmin humiliating you and reducing you to make you feel like nothing but a small thing that he had power over, no regrets would be there, a state of pure satisfaction would only incur.
He began to thrust himself again, taking note of the way you moved in sync with your hips against him. You made a good team, earning a soft moan from Seungmin as he began to become hazed by the pleasure he was experiencing. The music that was originally bursting through the speakers felt like it was drifting away, the ringing of his dirty vocabulary dominating your sense of hearing.
“S-shit,” you whined, “Seungmin, touch me more.”
“Is pretty girl asking for more,” Seungmin questioned, pausing his thrusts again, “so selfish.”
The humiliation of words truly had an immense effect on your body. Seungmin’s hands began to roam, his left hand snaking around, index and middle finger sneaking to your clit as he began to pump his cock again.
“Lucky I’m feeling a little nicer than before,” he mumbled, teeth attached to your lob like before. A lot was going on at the moment for you. His dick filling your pussy, fingers rubbing your clit ferociously, mouth teething at any skin he could lay his lips and teeth on. You high was coming at full force, the all too familiar knot churning in your stomach, faster than ever before.
“F-fuck,” you moaned, legs beginning to stick to the bathroom sink, the perspiration accumulating from your sinful behaviours, “I’m getting close Seungmin.”
“Oh are you baby,” he whined mockingly, “can my cock bring you to orgasm this quickly huh?”
“Yes,” you whispered, all strength from your vocal chords dissipating.
“And whose cock did this to you huh?”
“Yours.”
“Louder,” he grunted, assuming his free hand back at your throat, “whose cock do you belong to?”
“Yours Seungmin,” You choked on your words, completely crumbling under the pressure, “I belong to your cock.
“Mhmmm,” he hummed, the slapping sounds of skin increasing in volume with each powerful thrust, “such an obedient little girl for a cockslut, are you?”
He chuckled under his breath, knowing you were too gone and fucked out to adequately reply to him. Seungmin’s rhythm was also starting to become sloppy, grunts becoming louder and with each breath as he exerted all of his energy. He wanted to make you cum harder than he had ever before. Keep punching the reminder in your head that he was the only one who could make you feel like this.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, barely coherent to his now sensitive ears, “cum.”
“So pitiful,” he chuckled, “does my little cockslut want to become a cumslut?”
“Yes,” you moaned, voice loud and echoing off the walls, “p-please.”
“You want to cum?”
“Yes!”
“Okay baby,” Seungmin growled, “cum for me.”
His words were connected to your body, legs beginning to shake and pure bliss taking over as you felt yourself let go. Eyes fluttering shut, crescendo of the wave that was your orgasm crashing over you, making Seungmin chuckle as he had to hold you firmly by the arms to stop you from collapsing around his cock. You were completely caught up in the whirlwind of your own high, completely unaware of the way Seungmin’s cum was dripping down your leg, the involuntary clenching of your pussy, leaving him just as starstruck as he made you.
“Holy shit,” you gasped, a few moments after surging back to reality, “that was a lot of cum Seungmin.”
He shrugged, pulling up the toilet paper roll and giving you a suggestive look. You smiled hesitantly. It’s not like you wanted to clean it with toilet paper, but you were running out of options. He gave you a few more minutes, helping you redress yourself and look presentable, as if nothing had really happened.
Once you were satisfied, you walked over to the door, about to unlock it, that was until you heard the man beside you begin to speak.
“Y/n, wait,” he cried, desperate for your attention, “there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait until we at least leave the bathroom?”
“No, it cannot.”
You rolled your eyes, any coping behaviours to compress the mild heart attack the seriousness of his nerves were creating in you.
“You won the bet. I did get jealous.”
He took one step closer to you as he continued to speak.
“I want this to be more than just you know, two friend that have sex.”
“You, do?”
“Yeah, I just didn’t know how else to tell you.”
You were beaming, happily placing a small kiss to his lips, much, much more tame and innocent than the previous one you shared.
“You could have just told me like you quite literally did just now.”
“You’re right, I should have.”
You nodded, not sure what else to say.
“So, did you want to go on a date with me?”
#seungmin#seungmin fic#seungmin smut#seungmin scenario#seungmin imagine#seungmin layouts#skz smut#kim seungmin fic#kim seungmin scenario#kim seungmin imagine#stray kids#stray kids fic#stray kids smut#stray kids scenario#seungmin x reader
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little dove
loki x reader
description - Loki acted so caring around you, more so than anyone else in his life. He loved to take care of you, especially when you had a long day, and he got teased by some of the team for it.
warnings - fem reader, cute loki and pet names, implications of gender fluid loki?, reader gets picked up, slight implications of a nsfw theme the night before
word count - 1900
A/N - this is a pretty plotless blurb but i just love this man, i have been obsessed with the new series and just wanted to write anything about him. i will inevitably be writing for him more so please end me now. there are no spoilers for the new series and it takes place in an AU after new york but pretty much otherwise out of timeline. all the avengers live at the compound together, endgame didnt happen and no i wont talk about it.
MASTERLIST
Loki was not someone who was overly friendly. To most of the people in the compound, he was courteous at best. That rule, however, was bent occasionally. The only exceptions were you and his brother (some of the time). He had been smitten with you the moment he saw you though he would never admit it. You were bubbly and light and the exact opposite of him. You were so friendly and kind that it almost made him want to be the same.
You were kind to him, which he was shocked by. Most of the people in the compound tolerated him but they were never caught being too nice. You, on the other hand, were friendly to him the day you met him.
You weren't an Avenger, you weren't really even a fighter. You were a genius in the medical field as well as the unofficial caretaker of everyone on the team. You made sure that they all ate, they didn't overwork themselves, that they were getting enough sleep every night because they were your closest friends. Everyone listened to you. You had this power over them all that they just wanted to make sure you were happy and that meant they wanted to do what you asked of them. They tried their best to take care of you as well.
When you met Loki and were very nice to him, he expected some ulterior motive. He assumed that there was something you wanted or that you would gain his trust and then humiliate him later. So he kept his guard up. This was proved wrong over the months to come. He noticed that you were that kind to everyone and you were just happy to be around other people. He let you in over time.
You became the only person who he opened up to, even more than his brother. You would keep him company even when he lashed out at others and when he was filled with guilt. You forgave him for his past without question and opened up to him as well. It took probably 3 months for Loki to realize that he was in love with you.
He couldn't believe himself. In love with a midgardian? What was he thinking?
But it was undeniable and uncontrollable. He just couldn't help himself. You would read to him and watch movies with him. You would braid his hair when he was stressed and would teach him how to cook when he asked. You were just everything to him. It took him a long time to confess. He was terrified that you would reject him. You could have had anyone you wanted, why would you choose him?
When he did confess, you were thrilled and he couldn't believe it. You kissed him and he thought he could die happy right then and there. He had never felt this much love for anyone besides his mother.
You continued to break his walls down and he fell deeper in love with you every day. He didn't, however, change his behavior towards others very much. He had grown closer to the team, having regained some trust from them all. He was no longer aggressive and he tried very hard not to lash out. Most of that was out of his own desire to be trusted. He realized that he was going to have to make his life work to remain with you and he slowly learned that most of the people in the compound weren't actually as awful as he might have originally guessed. That didn't mean that his personality changed toward them though. He was still slightly cold and short. He wouldn't smile too much and he was what some might call grumpy most of the time.
That only changed around you and everyone noticed. Loki got teased for it constantly and he couldn't care less. He just wanted to make you happy and he had no regard for what anyone thought of your relationship.
He was waiting patiently in the common area of the compound on the couch. Steve and Rhodey were sat on the couch watching something that Loki didn't recognize or care for, it was some kind of reality TV. When he heard the elevator door open he looked toward the door and you were walking towards him. A grin spread over his face and his posture relaxed. He could hear the men on the couch scoff at his sudden change in demeanor. When you got close to him he picked you up and pulled you to straddle his hips on his lap and immediately began kissing all over you. You buried your face in his chest and he kissed your hair.
"How are you, my love?" He mumbled sweetly and you hummed. "Long day?" he questioned and you nodded in affirmation. "Lets go get you some food then, yes?" He asked lightly and you hummed happily. He picked you up and you clung to him, arms and legs wrapping around him. He carried you with ease toward the kitchen. It shocked you sometimes how much he could lift and how easily he lifted you but you had to remind yourself that he was indeed a god.
"How come you never treat us that way?" Rhodey called from the couch and Loki grumbled a bit.
"Oh I'm sorry did you want me to pick you up and make you some tea?" He asked sarcastically and you giggled from where your face was pressed into his chest. He smiled at the fact that he had gotten you to laugh and he set you on the countertop. He tried to pull away to make you some food but you did not let him leave you, still holding on to the front of the shirt that he was wearing. "Do you want to talk about your day?" He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead lightly. You gazed up at him lovingly and his heart skipped a beat.
"I'm just tired. People are annoying and I didn't exactly sleep much last night." You winked at the last part. He smirked at your comment.
"I'm sorry, my love. I was under the impression that you enjoyed what we did last night but I would be happy to give you plenty of time to sleep tonight if that's what you would prefer." he teased and you punched him lightly in the chest.
"Okay fine you're right, I like getting kept up." You confessed. You paused for a moment and his eyes remained on you as he waited patiently for you to continue. "I was mistaken for an intern again today. You would think that after over a year of working here that people would recognize my name and my work but today there were some new investors walking through the facility. When they came to look at my work they started to talk to one of my coworkers and then turned to me to ask me to get them a coffee order while they waited for the doctor to arrive." You grumbled, your mood now sour at the memory. Loki frowned and he felt his anger begin to take shape inside of him. His eyes flashed green for a moment.
"Would you like me to go and teach them a lesson? Perhaps just to mildly terrify them?" he asked, fully serious. That cheered you up plenty and you chuckled. Loki knew that you were laughing because of the absurdity of his statement and the fact that he was dead serious but he was just happy to see you smile again. "I will never understand the midgardian obsession with gender roles. Though I suppose my own identity is more fluid than most asgardians as well." He confessed and you brought your hand to rest on the side of his face. He leaned his head into your hand as he beamed at you. You loved when he compared his home to yours. It reminded you just how powerful he was and that he still chose to spend his days with you. There was suddenly a flash of green before he held his hand out to you, now holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. When you gasped and moved to grab them he slipped from your grasp to move towards the refrigerator.
"Hey that's not fair, you tricked me." You pouted at him, now grumbling that you couldn't hold him anymore.
"Little dove, I cannot make you food when you hold onto me. When I am finished cooking then you can stay with me for as long as you would like." He promised and you nodded solemnly. He quickly pressed another kiss to your cheek before moving around the kitchen to prepare you waffles as he often did when you were having a long day. You observed the beautiful flowers in your hand and watched him as he moved around the kitchen, a million times more comfortable than he had been when he first moved into the compound. You talked contentedly with the people passing by as well as the man who was diligently trying to improve your mood. Occasionally one of the other team members would walk by and laugh a bit at how caring he was acting toward you, all of them just happy you were content though. Eventually Thor stopped by while Loki put some batter into the waffle iron and sliced some fruit.
"You know, this is the happiest I have ever seen him." He stated simply, a smile in is voice.
"It's the happiest I've been too." You responded with a small grin.
"The last time I saw him open up to someone the way that he opens up to you was on Asgard with our mother. She would be happy to see him being so vulnerable again." He patted your back and walked away as tears started to come to your eyes. The brothers would talk of their mother sometimes and Loki often mention the fact that he believed she would have loved you, if not for your own personality then for what you did for her son. You wished that you could meet her.
You were suddenly taken out of your thoughts by someone handing you a plate of waffles and sliced up fruit with a little container of syrup on the side. You looked up at Loki and nearly cried right there. You put the plate aside for a moment to reach out and pull him into a crushing hug. He was a bit startled but responded quickly, a hand going to the back of your head and his fingers brushing through your hair soothingly.
"Did something happen, my love?" He asked softly and you sniffled a bit.
"Just love you and I'm very thankful for everything you do for me." You got out and he affirmed to himself that he would die for you in an instant.
"I love you too, darling, but I slaved away at those waffles and now they are getting cold." He teased and he kissed your hair gently. You took a deep breath before pulling away, looking up at him with love. You smiled and then hopped off of the counter. He walked with you over to the dining table where he sat next to you and serenely waited as you ate, the food lifting your spirits a bit and easing your anxiety of the day. You planned on spending the rest of it with the man next to you as well as every day after that.
#loki#loki x reader#loki imagine#loki x reader imagine#loki laufeyson#thor#thor ragnarok#thor imagine#marvel imagine#marvel#marvel x reader#the avengers#avengers imagine#avengers imagines#avengers x reader#fluff#loki fluff#loki x reader fluff
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NSFW Alphabet: Neil Perry
A/N: Well- here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this, i'll be making it for all the poets ! Also credits to the original person who made this template!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Neil is a sweetheart, he'll ask you if you're okay, if you want something, and help clean you up. It also depends on if you guys have stuff to do (apart from each other) later. You both help each other get ready but if there isn't anything planned for later, you'll just cuddle up to each other and fall asleep.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His favorite part of himself are his hands. He uses them for pretty much every thing! Holding his significant other's hands, playing with their hair, or even when they're pinning them down by their wrists and making out with them. His favorite body part of their partner are their lips. They're soft, he loves planting kisses on them and how they look wrapped around his dick.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Neil and his S.O. always take precautions as to not make a mess. I feel like Neil's the type to look into his S.O.'s face as he's reaching his climax. Of course, Neil always wears protection so he will ask to cum inside of their partner. If not, he'll simply pull out.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
One time during summer break you and him sent each other letter's back and forth. One day though, you sent him a suggestive polaroid of you and he instantly dropped whatever he was doing just to take care of some unfinished business in the bathroom. All summer long, he would use that photo whenever he needed some help.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Neither Neil nor you had experience and were completely clueless when it came to your first time. So you just went with whatever felt right and guided each other. Over time, Neil somehow got better and better at it, trust me this man knows what he's doing.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
His favorite position is one where you're both facing each other and he has easier access to kiss you. Especially the face off, he thinks it's a nice and simple position!
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He's very serious. He's a classic romantic, what did ya expect? In the moment he'll whisper a few compliments, let out a few swear words, and a few whimpers and moans. But he doesn't make jokes or laughs, mostly because he wouldn't know what to say.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I believe Neil likes to keep it neat and tidy down there. So once a week he'll trim whatever is on there and just let it be until the next time.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
EXTREMELY. I mean, he's not candles and roses lover but he is a slow and sensual lover. He'll take his time and make his lover feel loved and comfortable.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Doesn't do it much. Only if you're both apart on holidays, he'll do it at least once or twice but that's pretty much it!
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
PRAISE. KINK. This man has the biggest kink for praising and being praised. I cannot stress this enough, if you want him to melt in your arms, a good "you're doing so great" might suffice.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Your room. You guys preferred to do it in his dorm but one time poor Todd walked in on him getting head and had a whole crisis about it. The poets would not stop teasing you both after that.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
He's a simple man. Just a simple touch or kiss feels like Kryptonite to him. Especially when his hands are gently wrapped around their S.O.'s neck or when they kiss down his neck, oh boy!
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Although Neil has a slight throat grabbing kink, he wouldn't do anything to actually hurt them. Perhaps he'll smack your butt but he won't do it that hard.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves giving, he's not opposed to receiving but something about giving gets him going and makes him hard as a rock.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He prefers slow and sensual. But if you ask him to be rough or go faster, he'll do it! He's not really against rough and fast, he just prefers it slow.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Quickies happen once in a while. You're both busy people and sometimes when you wanna get nasty there's not much time, so you both do it quickly in the school attic or the cave or even a closet sometimes.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He doesn't want another incident like Todd's to happen again, so he's extremely careful and prefers not to be too risky about it.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He has a very strong stamina. He could go for like 3 - 4 rounds tops.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Neil doesn't own toys, he doesn't even know where to get one, but if his partner asked to try, he wouldn't be opposed to experimenting with them.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He can be such a tease sometimes. Neil will tease his S.O. until they're begging him to fuck them. He is such a cry baby when his S.O. is the one teasing, he doesn't like getting a taste of his own medicine.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
A few whimpers, moans, and praise normally leave his mouth, he likes being vocal in the moment.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He likes to dom but he also likes letting his partner take control sometimes. It really gets him going and has this cute little look on his face when his S.O. does so.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
A bit bigger than average. I just know this man has a big dick.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
I'd say his sex drive is pretty normal... for a teenage boy.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)
You both will have some pillow talk for a while. He falls asleep after you just cause he wants to make sure his S.O. won't be left alone in some sorta way.
#i am sorry#dead poets society#dead poets society x reader#dead poets society headcanon#dead poets society imagine#neil perry#neil perry x reader#neil perry imagine#neil perry headcanons#dps#dps x reader
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backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club
━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series
genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @yunoyeol ; @lanadreamie ; @ta3ilmoon ;
a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):
While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.
Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.
Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.
But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.
“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.
“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.
You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.
“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.
Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”
His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.
The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.
But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.
When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”
“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.
“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.
However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”
Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.
“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”
“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.
He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”
Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”
“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”
“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.
“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”
You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”
“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.
“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.
Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.
Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.
Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?
Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.
“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?
Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.
Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”
Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.
“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”
The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.
But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.
“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.
“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”
The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.
Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.
“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.
“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.
Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.
Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.
You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.
Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.
You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.
“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating.
“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.
His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.
You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.
“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.
“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”
You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”
Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.
One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.
“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”
Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.
The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.
He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.
While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.
“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.
“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.
“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.
“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.
“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.
“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.
The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.
Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.
But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.
No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.
This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”
“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.
“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.
“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.
“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”
“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.
“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”
It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart.
Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.
In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.
“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.
“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.
“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.
“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.
“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.
“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.
“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”
“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”
“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.
You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.
Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well.
However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.
“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.
“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.
And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.
“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.
“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.
His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.
Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”
“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.
“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.
The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.
He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.
The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.
“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.
Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”
“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.
“No, you called me honey.”
Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”
Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.
This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.
“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.
Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”
The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.
“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.
“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”
Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.
Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”
Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.
“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.
“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.
“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.
“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.
“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”
“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.
He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.
“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.
“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.
“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.
It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.
“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”
“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.
“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.
Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.
Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.
But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.
“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.
“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.
“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.
“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.
“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.
Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.
Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”
“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.
“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.
“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.
Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.
“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”
During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.
“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.
Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”
Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”
You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.
It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.
“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.
“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.
But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.
Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.
Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.
The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.
Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”
He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.
But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.
You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.
Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.
His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”
“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.
Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”
You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.
“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”
He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.
“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”
“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.
His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.
“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.
“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”
“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”
Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.
Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”
All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”
“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.
“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.
“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.
“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.
“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.
“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.
He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.
He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.
You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.
He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.
“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.
“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.
“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.
“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.
Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.
It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you.
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