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navybrat817 · 3 days ago

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Love drunk Bucky! What about a drunk reader?

Yes, we've seen drunk!Bucky in Pretty Girl. A drunk reader could be fun.

Your Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter, drunk confession, dirty talk, humor, slight feels, talk of consent and communication, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Raw. Next question.”

You sipped your drink, the room going eerily silent. It was the quietest it had been since everyone gathered in the lounge for some drinks hours ago. Pairs of eyes stared at you with a mix of fascination and shock as your words hung in the air.

Just moments ago, Clint had been going through his phone and showing everyone candid photos he managed to snap of everyone. Most of them were hilarious, but the most recent one wasn't hilarious at all. It was clearly hot based on your reaction.

“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence.

“You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?”

You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”

“Hold on. Back to what you said a second ago.” Clint turned the phone toward him with a raised brow and slowly turned it back toward you so you could see it again. “You know that’s a picture of Barnes, right? Not some model or actor?” he asked.

Bucky Barnes, the beefy super soldier who was trying not to shatter the bottle in his metal hand as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Clint managed to snap a photo of him when he removed his shirt after a recent workout, which begged the question of why he was taking the photo to begin with. Bucky wasn’t looking at the camera since his eyes were shut, but his parted mouth, slightly messy hair, and sweat shining off his torso made him look like a thirst trap. The sweatpants only made the picture that much hotter.

“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”

Bucky audibly exhaled. You had a penchant for being very honest with the team which they appreciated. If someone asked for your opinion or thoughts on something you didn’t hide how you felt. You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that.

So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.

Clint exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before the redhead nodded to the spot beside you. The spy looked like she was having a hard time not smiling. “And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked.

You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”

The bottle shattered which only made you smile more. Bucky’s nostrils flared and everyone backed up a few inches, except for you, the newest member of the team. The person who loved to leave little treats and snacks for him to make sure he ate throughout the day. The same person who made a show of bending over and stretching in front of him whenever you two worked out together. The only one who seemed to get a real smile out of him since you showed up like a shining beacon of happiness and sass.

And now you were telling him you want him to fuck you. Raw. He thought about it, of course- how wet and snug you’d feel around his bare cock, how you’d take him like a good girl. He pictured you sobbing his name and squirming as he pinned you down and brought you over the edge again and again. Licking his lips, he imagined the taste of your arousal on his tongue and wondered if he could make you squirt. He sure as hell wanted to try.

Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.”

“I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat.

Bucky bit back a groan. He was two seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman and taking you away from everyone. There were so many filthy things he wanted to say and do to you…

And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”

“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘relations’?” Clint asked. “Relations.”

“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”

You leaned in a bit closer, but Bucky gripped your arms to move you away from his spot. “I don't want the glass to cut you.”

“You're so thoughtful. And amazing,” you smiled. He adored your smile. “And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.”

Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”

Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it.

“Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”

Steve jumped up when his best friend glared at him. “I think I’m done, too,” he said, not wanting to face Bucky’s wrath even though it wasn’t his fault he also had heightened senses.

“Let’s go, boys. I think these two should talk without us,” Natasha suggested, hauling Sam up by the arm and giving both of you a wink. “Be good, okay?”

“No promises,” you replied in a sing-song voice.

“Shouldn’t they get a room? I’m just saying,” Sam said as Natasha dragged him away.

“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.

“Alone at last,” you giggled. If you were at all embarrassed, it didn’t show. And now that the two of you were alone, the tension skyrocketed. “You know, this isn't how I pictured saying any of this, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he said. He couldn't believe you wanted him, but you did.

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.”

“That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him.

“Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

As much as he wanted to feel your lips against his, he stopped you. And as much as he wanted to tear your leggings away and have you then and there, but he couldn’t. “I’m not fucking you. Not tonight.”

The playfulness slipped from your eyes. So did the smile from your face. “Oh. I thought…” you breathed, looking away and quickly blinking. God, he hoped there weren’t tears in your eyes. “You don’t actually want me, do you?”

Bucky hadn’t meant for his words or stopping the kiss to come across as rejection, but that was exactly what happened. “That’s not–”

“Oh, my God. I ruined everything, didn't I? Why did I open my mouth?” You sniffled and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let you. “Six months of friendship and crushing on you and I-”

“Hey. You didn't ruin a thing.” Bucky gripped your chin with tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore, and his heart broke when he saw the tears swimming in your beautiful eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.”

HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.

And he’d be the best man for you if you let him.

“So, you do want me?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

“I did say more than anyone else, and I meant it,” he replied. You had to believe him. “But our first time should happen when you're sober.”

However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.

The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”

Bucky wanted to take you to bed, but he also wanted to take you out on dates. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, wipe your tears and comfort you when you cried, and be the one you confided in. He wanted to be your man, and he wanted you to be his best girl.

“I wanna be yours,” you sighed as if you read his mind, his heart skipping a beat. “Can I be your girl?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when he kissed the top of your head. “You can be my girl.”

And tomorrow once you were sober, he’d officially ask you to be his girl.

Happy Moanday, lovelies! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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animamii · 2 days ago

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lockedup!toji lovessss receiving letters from you. 💌

"Fushiguro, you got mail," one of the corrections officers would knock on his open cell door. Toji always had this smirk tugging at his lips when the guard said those words. Although it was only a mask for the thrum he felt in his heart. He would always be handed a nice little stack of letters, all from you. The envelopes would be different colors, pinks and reds and purples. You'd really put a lot of effort into these [mostly love] letters. Even going as far as buying the cutest stamps you could find. He would never admit it out loud—he'd rather choke— but Toji loves when you put those cute little Hello Kitty stamps on the letters. Toji didn’t seem like the type to care for stuff like that, but those letters? Oh, they meant everything.

His name would be written in your cute handwriting, Toji Fushiguro with a little heart next to it. Flipping over the letter, you'd alway put a cute sticker over the seal. Or a heart if you couldn't find a sticker you'd like. He never rushed to open them, though; instead, he’d take his time, flipping through the envelopes, savoring the sight of your adorable scribbles. Toji loved the scent of them, always smelling like the spritz of perfume you'd put on the paper (thank you for the idea, Grease). He loved it just as much as the lipstick kisses you'd put on every blank space of the envelope and letter. Even if you weren't much of a lipstick user, you made sure to keep some different shades in stock so you can send Toji kisses through the mail.

It was the highlight of his day, pulling open the envelope with a rare softness in his usually rough hands. Always being ever so careful not to rip the envelope or the sticker you so thoughtfully sealed it with. He’d sit on the edge of his cot, back resting against the cold cement wall, eyes scanning over your handwriting. Every curve of your letters, every word you wrote, he soaked in every little thing. You wrote about every little thing; what you ate, what you listened to, what you watched. Your little girlish gossip. Toji preferred to read multiple pages of you rambling on about whatever came to your pretty little head. Made him feel like he was with you again, sitting there babbling to him like you always did.

After reading through one of your letters for the first time, Toji would lean back, holding the paper loosely in his hand, a rare softness washing over his sharp features. His lips would curl faintly at the edges, almost like he could hear your voice through the words on the page. He’d trace over your little doodles in the corners—the hearts, the smiley faces, even the exaggerated stick figure versions of you and him. Toji wasn’t a sentimental man by nature, but these small things? They clawed their way into the part of his chest he thought was hardened long ago. Sometimes, the other inmates would glance his way, curious about what kept the infamous Fushiguro so quiet. He’d shoot them a glare that said, Mind your own damn business. No one dared ask questions.

Toji had a little ritual for your letters. After reading through them, he’d carefully fold them, put it back in its respective envelope, and tuck them into his pillowcase. It wasn’t much, but it kept them close to him, right where he could feel that connection even when he wasn’t holding the paper. Later, when the lights dimmed and the prison settled into its eerie quiet, he’d pull one out again, holding it under the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the bars. It didn’t matter if it was the same letter he read last week or one you’d just sent—it still carried that same warmth.

"Y’know," he muttered to himself one night, voice low enough not to carry. "You’re making me soft, sweetheart." But he didn’t really mind. Those letters gave him something to look forward to, something worth counting down the days for.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

y'all I wanna write more drabbles like thiss. Also I'm thinking... maybe some letters from Toji himself? Or from reader? both?? o.O lemme know bebecitas I wanna write what y'all wanna read!! xoxo

taglist ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy (aka my favee)

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bigfatbreak · 3 days ago

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im gonna reserve thoughts on the new season of mlb, but i do have Fears plotwise that make me apprehensive to really take in so ill state it below

marinette's lie about hawkmoth is clearly going to be the big catalyst in this series/season/wtv but my big thing is, if its going to be written, it should have some level of nuance? she's a child who was trying to spare everyone's feelings when it came to a tragedy that was thrust upon her. the rest of us can be like "oh yeah well I just would've told adrien" but that would've been equally explosive, and she really thinks this way would essentially save adrien both from a worse grief than just losing his father and also the animosity of the public. there was no answer that didn't have major repercussions, essentially, and she was taking the path more likely to help adrien's state - after all, gabriel is already dead, but the anger of the public remains. who would they take out hawkmoth's fury onto? years of being a public menace and terrorist would likely be framed at Adrien

but i feel like what's gonna happen is lila is going to reveal her lie in a very big way, (because we're already seeing the narrative push the envelope and be a bit overbearing in how the public LOVES ladybug SO SO MUCH LOOK THE PUBLIC LOVES HERRR) essentially try to sway adrien to her side (since gabe had a big thing with lila and adrien, trying to make them like. two sides of a coin or smth) and Marinette is going to have to try and fix it all whilst everyone is telling her she's a terrible person for lying as though she doesn't already resent herself for lying in the first place, which may lead to her getting akumatized and becoming lila's tool, leaving alya and the gang to fix shit

that could be good, but the issue is, when it comes to marinette the series seems to like framing her choices as foolish or stupid when they could better be framed as tragic. my big worry is when everything blows up and everyone no doubt hates ladybug/marinette for telling a falsehood to the public, there's not going to be a facet of the narrative that focuses on the tragedy of the matter: that she was a child left with a choice and she tried to save everyone and fumbled it. instead everyone is going to say she was stupid with her foolish little love goggles on and that she's just sooo airheaded when it comes to adrien, and they're going to minimize the shit that happened to her as "marinette is dumb" rather than "marinette was put into an impossible situation and no part of it wasnt going to blow up on her"

she wasn't RIGHT for lying to the public, or to her friends, but she also wasn't WRONG to try and minimize the damage. and i don't think they're gonna touch on that latter part in a way that has any sense of respect for the character, coz man. the narrative loves blaming marinette for shit she DIDN'T do, so considering she HAS done something with big consequences, I can only imagine how they're going to beat her character against the wall

#ooc #mlb spoilers

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omamervt · 2 hours ago

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Ok so while yes, City of Mist is incredibly simple to play in actual practice, it does have a LOT more character management rules than most PBTAs, and the Tracking Card system is something you really have to see in practice to understand.

Plus, while it's my understanding that the divided Player Handbook and MC Toolkit clarified a handful of things that were missing or unclear in the original Tome, I was not gonna spend $70 on two books to replace my single $50 one, and besides, we had started before Knights of Payne Town crowdfunded.

So long story short, there were a handful of things that, when we started, I was unclear on how they worked, and what their limits were supposed to be, and so I, wanting to be a "Good DM" (my only other experience at that point was D&D 5E) decided, "power to the players!" and let players add as many tags as they wanted to rolls.

(legitimately, the only point in the original tome I could find that said there was a 3-power tag-limit was a play example, it wasn't in the base rules in the gameplay section! Apparently it was buried somewhere I wouldn't have thought to look, but I didn't know that until much later when I was talking about something in the Facebook group.)

I also was kinda lax about the single-scene effects of some moves, because it came up so rarely. And, on the MC side, I was so nervous about not using stuff after over-preparing scenarios for the first few sessions that I'd developed a habit of delaying stuff until the party had a chance to arrive.

For the most part, I was still able to make an engaging adventure by taking advantage of what you could do with NPCs' power tags/statuses, but then The Incident happened.

Now, there were probably some other contributing factors here. First, one of my players had recently joined a D&D table, and between that and the way I'd handled my table, he was starting to develop an attitude that I was supposed to indulge anything he wanted to do so long as he rolled a Great Success. And for reasons I still don't understand, the entire party had chosen to just straight-up ignore information one of their allies had given them, opting to spend the rest of the session trying to find some other piece of evidence to back up what he was saying, but weren't satisfied with whatever I gave them.

As written, the Investigation move in CoM says that you can ask as many questions as you have Power invested on a Great Success. So this dude dumped 6 power tags into an Investigate, and spent an hour dragging it across 3 locations, upset I wasn't giving him the answers he wanted, but not telling me what he wanted to learn beyond "what are we supposed to do next," but like the rest of the party, was unwilling to accept "you already know where your target will be next. The lead you were given was real!" I ended up having to call the session early, I was so mad.

That player might have still developed the attitude that I needed to indulge every success, especially after joining the D&D game, but if I had trusted the samples in the book and every other sample of play I'd heard elsewhere, then he would have gotten 3 questions, max. If I had restricted his investigation to a single scene like I knew I was supposed to, he wouldn't have been able to drag it out for an hour.

And if I'd followed the general PBTA GM principle of "treat the world like it's alive and the story doesn't solely revolve around your players," they would have simply seen that they weren't being lied to on the news after their target did what they knew she was going to do, in the place they knew she was going to be, and got away because they were all wasting time elsewhere.

They still wouldn't have been happy, probably, but there's not much I can do about that, since they wouldn't tell me why they were rejecting clues like that.

Yes, that's the short version of events.

It ain't easy making it as a TTRPG design studio when it takes a baseline amount of effort just to convince a lot of people that your profession is even real. Like, those rules and numbers, we didn't just fill the pages up with a bunch of random nonsense, we put those in the rulebook for a reason, so that following them would result in particular challenges and experiences.

Game design is real! It is possible to play a TTRPG wrong, because the TTRPG's rulebook exists solely to tell you how to play this particular TTRPG right, and in a well-designed game, that will lead to a particular experience that the authors are trying to sell you.

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likesomeoneinlovee · 2 days ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐉𝐀𝐖

Summary: A frustration fueled Joel comes back from scouting with a very prominent issue.

Warnings: PORN NO PLOT. Teasing, thigh riding, throat-fucking, oral m!receiving, Joel calls himself daddy (my bad 😵‍💫), pussy & dick pronouns. Wc: 2k, f!reader

AN: this was all written within the span of an hour so my bad, this is what ovulation does to a bitch.

Home alone. For three whole hours.

Joel went out scouting.

Your eyes that whole time had been staring holes into the floral wallpaper of the flat, without much to do -or, more realistically without the man you’ve been thinking about doing all fuckin’ day. It was a draining experience. Your fingernails peeling up the flesh of your thighs as you sunk further, deeper into his living room couch. It smelled like him. The musky scent he wore all seeped into the upholster.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking once he had inserted the key made your ears perk, hours of listening to your own heartbeat the time you weren’t desperately trying to stimulate your accumulating thoughts about him. The touch, the feeling of his body that you’ve only felt one whole time in which you had never gotten it off your brain. Thick fingers running along the puffy, sopped folds of your pussy, stretching you. Running his free, spit slicked palm over and all the way down his cock to get himself ready. The feeling of his girth forcing into your hole.

You’d never forget.

The door would creak open before you locked onto him. A thick hand wrapped around one of the straps of his supply bag before he dropped it onto the ground next to the door, a long exasperated sigh escaping past his parted lips. Running thick fingers through the greying curls on his head.

“Fuck.”

Cursing, Joel would walk past you and to the kitchen, opening the first cupboard which to his luck had some booze in it. A stale, half empty bottle of said booze. Popping the cap off, taking a swig.

Finding it difficult to look away while the man did something as simple as drink, the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as the bready liquid moved down the pharynx.

Satisfied from the liquid quenching his thirst he walked back over to the couch, sitting down directly next to you, his thigh touching yours. Hadn’t been able to notice earlier whether it was the angle or how fast he walked through the house, his cock was writhing tightly against his jeans. Sunrays shone through the windows, curtains open. Yellow hued light outlining the bulge. Clearly he had been like this for a while. His worn palms running down his face.

Your lips parted, tongue tied by the sight. It was a test, surely.

With little-to-none resistance your hand reached out to place on his thigh, one of your fingers would stretch to touch the curve sticking out in his jeans, the pad of your index hardly applying any pressure before tracing his dick, watching it jump before you felt Joel’s hand grab your wrist.

“All day- All fuckin’ mornin’, baby.”

Fingers twisting over the skin on your arm, another twitch from his cock would draw in your attention. He’s been waiting.

“You didn’t have to come all the way back here. You have a hand.”

Stating as if there wasn’t a pool of your own slick in the middle of the lace underwear you had only dug through your drawer to find earlier in the day. On your mind all day was this very moment, you had been counting every tick from the clock as you waited for him to walk into the room and fuck your face.

“I swear to fuckin’—“

His legs spread open over the cushion, tapping his boot against the hardwood. Impatient.

To reiterate again, waiting all fucking day. Now with you here the thought of waiting another second had him struggling. Wearing loose boyshorts around your hips as you sat there he’d lean over you, hooking his finger to the hem before yanking them off those pretty legs. A palm he had placed on your low stomach now sliding til his hand was underneath the white, lace panties he oh-so-loved. His tall finger slipped past your clit, into your swollen slit. You’d mewl.

Soaked.

“Knew it.”

He yanked you onto his thigh, moving his hand down to your ass, squeezing, fat spilling between his fingers. Luckily his second hand had been lazily resting at his side now had a purpose, up your back and to the back of your head to hold onto your hair. His lips slamming into yours. No mercy behind the kiss.

Your hips began rolling at a quick pace, your cunt slowly coming un-covered with every thrust down into his jean clad thigh. His tall finger finding his way back to your hole beneath your underwear, tracing it with his thick digit. Pulling his lips back from yours with a wet smack.

“She’s fuckin’ droolin’.”

He’d drawl, to no avail you’d try to force that finger into you by a buck of your hips downward. Thus, he’d withdraw. A reward game, you’ll earn his fingers later.

One more long grind down into his thigh that’d surely serve you a friction burn later and you were off his leg. Dropping onto your knees in front of his lap. You’d swear you’ve only dreamt of being in a position like this. Your smaller hands started at his calves before resting on his thighs. His coffee eyes staring into yours.

He wouldn’t waste precious time now, unbuckling his belt to toss it away. Unzipping his jeans to shove them to his upper thighs, the last article of suffrage being his boxers, a dark wet spot painfully obvious on the grey cotton. He’d tug on the elastic that rimmed the top before tugging his briefs to his upper thighs, with the quick pull his cock sprung up slapping against his tummy.

His shaft was turning red. Tip pulsating. His thumb ran down to spread the bead of precum over him, laminating the dark pink bulb til’ it looked like glass. A flutter in your stomach at the sight.

“Stick your tongue out.” He’d just barely manage to groan.

Control now gained with his fingers wrapped around his base. Your knees now hitting the base of the couch, it was as close as you could get. Obeying the commands you opened your mouth, your pink, saliva slicken tongue sticking out.

His cock slapped against your tongue, driving it into your wet hole with his free hand as his other worked into your hair, his fingers forming an O around your thick locks as a makeshift hair tie. Though, you’d find this was better.

He was fuckin’ big. Even taking him into your pussy didn’t do him justice, only truly able to fit him halfway into your small mouth.

It wouldn’t be enough for him.

His hips would buck forward, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat. Involuntarily your throat would clench - teetering the lines of a gag and a spasm of your muscles. Though, your eyes began to gloss over.

The knot in your pelvis tightened while Joel craned his neck back against the back of the couch letting out a long, rough groan. Such a tough girl, he’d figure a few good thrusts wouldn’t be the thing that’d ruin you.

Another buck of his hips sent a wrack through his body, fucking his thick cock into your throat. Your drool dribbling down his shaft. Your eyes hadn’t unlocked with his own ‘less they were going to roll back into your skull with every hit to the very back of your tongue. A moan bubbled up from your tightened throat, vibrating up the thick length of his dick. You could taste how his vein would throb and pulsate against your cheek. No doubt he was close.

With your mouth managing to take every. Last. Inch. Of him so deeply. There was no way he could last.

Your own thighs would clench together as your eyes finally took a break from straining upwards to now clenching shut. Your juices collecting all in the middle of your panties. Your clit throbbing excruciatingly hard. You knew better than to touch yourself. Focusing and giving your body up to the task at hand.

Joel’s breaths turning into deep pants. His balls tightening, drawing up. Though he had a better idea than just cumming straight on the spot despite that just being the thing he’s been pining for all fucking day. Tugging on the hair falling between his fist he pulled your head back, his cock extruding from your mouth with an audible, wet ‘pop!’ sound. Glossy eyes gazed into his as his flickered down to his cock, jumping straight up once released from your mouth one big mess of his precum mixing with your salivation.

“Makin’ such a mess of him, huh?” He’d grunt. Completely gawked by the sight. “Such a fuckin’ mess of daddy’s cock.”

You could’ve sworn this man was giving your pussy a heartbeat.

Before you could give any sort of catty response his cock was shoved back into your mouth, giving you no time to readjust, to get used to the feeling of his burning tip knocking at the back of your throat. Managing by the grace of God to stowaway your gag reflex seemingly just for the evening. His pace slowing, beginning to get sloppy quicker. You’d have a lot to say if you didn’t have a mouthful. Though, deep down you knew that your unhealthily cock-drunk brain would be unable to formulate a coherent sentence. One with both sense and grace.

“Just. Like. That.” He punctuated.

Thrusting deeper til your nose was bobbing up and down against his pelvis. Nuzzling into the scent that came within the dense thicket of greying, wiry hairs. All curled around and crowing his base. You felt the thick vein that traveled all the way down the girth of his dick pulsate against your overstuffed cheek. A whine from you would only shake up his shaft. His tummy tightening up, hips spasming. Another violent thrust to the back of your tongue those built up tears to freely fall down your cheeks.

Again.

Sliding his cock from your lips to shove it back in again. Every time taking the split second to admire all that drool dripping down the line of his strained cock.

“Fuck! Baby—“ Absolutely strained.

He’d throw his head back, bumping it against the back of the couch as he let out a long, throaty moan. He pulled out of your mouth, the overused motion you’ve grown so very accustomed to, though this time your tongue stayed out, perfectly so as he was able to paint the pink muscle with hot, thick ropes of cum. Pumping his fist over his cock as ropes of semem shoot down your tongue and straight to the back of your throat. Painting his own perfect masterpiece on the fleshy canvas of your mouth.

Swallowing every last droplet as if it were liquid gold.

His stomach rose and fell heavily with each breath, his hand reached out to grab your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your glossy bottom lip. Every. Last. Drop. Though, he just had to make sure.

“That’s what I like to see, babygirl.” He’d praise. Lazily tugging up his boxers so he could conceal his freshly mouth-fucked cock, concealing with another layer courtesy of his unzipped jeans. Sure, you finished him the fuck off but that didn’t mean he was gonna soften up anytime soon.

You’d just hardly make it back onto your trembling legs as you looked at him, panties slid to the side from unconsciously grinding against the cold, wooden floors. A droplet of that warm, glue-like slick trickling down your inner thigh once you stood up. Joel’s eyes followed the stray tear.

“Goddamn, baby. Lemme take care of that for you.”

That’s what you like to hear.

Standing up from the couch with a long grunt he’d lift you off of your feet, carrying you straight to his bed. Soon enough he’d be two knuckles deep into your aching pussy, giving you all that sweet pleasure you so deserved after earning it so fuckin’ well.

385 notes · View notes

arbitrarykiwi · 1 day ago

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OH.MY.GOD. i absolutely loved ur nam-gyu fic it was actually insane, it was sooo juicy, so well written, so in character!!! i literally loved every single word i can’t stress this enough😫😫 please write more about nam-gyu!! i would also like to see a more loser side of him since in ur fic he was like sooo suave but i feel like he’s really just. some guy getting minimum wage to promote a fuckass club. ANYWAY! thank u so much!!!

I Like 'em Weird

HEEEYYY!! Thank you soo much for your kind words, catch me crying sobbing and throwing up 😩😩. When I saw this request I got right to work I was so excited. Admittedly this was a bit challenging for me (I’m a sucker for the sugar daddy/sweet talker trope) but I tried my best and I hope you like it!! I had so much fuckin fun 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: Smut (18+), drug usage, sex while under the influence, awkward! Nam-gyu, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, sex in a club, sex in a club bathroom, thigh fucking, choking, squiring, creampie

When you went to the club with your friends, on a Friday night with a plan to get fucked up and laid, they didn’t not think you were referring to the awkward club promoter who hung around the egotistic, purple haired rapper, Thanos, like a lap dog.

You were acquaintances with the rapper, he’s been frequenting the club you often find yourself at with your friends recently. Hell, he’s even bought your whole friend group rounds and rounds of shots- he’s even hit on you a couple times. But he was not your type.

The club promoter that was always next to him, black jacket over his hands, ringed fingers frequently coming up to cover his mouth, glaring at most people around, not trying to have every hot girl sit on his lap or dance on him like his purple haired counterpart part- now he was your type.

When Thanos showed up, beginning to frequent the club a few months ago, you saw more of the odd promoter on the club floor. You knew he worked there as a promoter but he always seemed to be in the back, preferring only the drugs of the scene rather than the whole scene itself.

A few weeks back when you found yourself at this same club, with Thanos walking over from his VIP table to buy your friends drinks, you finally asked him about the black haired shadow he seemed to have. “Oh him? That’s my boy Nam-su!!” Thanos said throwing an arm loosely around your shoulder. “You like him, he’s a charmer isn’t he?” Thanos drunkenly said looking back over to where ‘Nam-su’ was.

He was seated on the sofa, looking around erratically. He was glaring at pretty much anyone who came near him. No girls even looked his way. You and Thanos watched on as he leaned over the glass table in front of him and begins to snort a line of whatever substance was on the table.

Yeah, real charmer.

But something about him made you crave him. You wanted to fuck him. “Yeah….So his names Nam-su?” You ask again, trying to make sure you remember it. “Yep! That’s my boy Nam-Su!!!!!” Thanos calls out loudly, enough it’s apparently heard over the loud music by the so called ‘Nam-su’, who looks up and glares over at the two of you before rolling his eyes.

“Doesn’t look to happy does he?” You ask with an uneasy laugh. One of the bartenders who brings you a drink leans over the bar and laughs “That’s ‘cause that ain’t his name. His name is Nam-gyu.”

So there you found yourself that Friday with a goal in mind. You needed Nam-gyu. So after getting more than a few drinks in your system and your friend dragging you over to Thanos’ little group- you decided to put your plan in action.

He was currently sitting next to Thanos, rolling up a blunt, his hands shaking and his leg bouncing. Thanos was talking up some girls, having took the blunt that Nam-gyu originally rolled for him and Thanos; sharing it among the group of girls who threw themselves at the rapper.

He was pissed to say the least, the blunt he rolled now being wasted and not passed to him. He sat there a scowl on his face as he very obviously mumbled to himself, and conveniently there was a spot on the couch next to him.

You make your way over, sitting down next to him. He immediately looks up, looking at you like you’re crazy. Why the fuck were you coming over to him? He was never really a ladies man, sure he had experience but not with a woman such as yourself. You were way out of his league he thought.

You lean your elbow on your leg, resting your chin in your palm as you look at him. “Mind if I join?” You say in a sickly sweet voice, smiling at him. Instead of flirting or acting as suave as Thanos- he looks at you like you’re stupid.

You can practically read the ‘Why the fuck are you even near me, I’m not sharing my shit with you’ look. You can tell he really doesn’t even realize you’re flirting with him. You groan and reach into your bra, pulling out a bad of weed and a small bag of white powder. “Chill out, I’ll match with you.” You say laughing, offering the substances out.

This seems to catch his attention. He raises an eyebrow conspiratorially, “This isn’t going to get you on some pedestal with him, you’re better off dancing on him.” He says, and oh fuck his voice is so delicious, it’s wavering, a low tone, almost like he’s anxious to be talking to you, like he expects you to only be doing this to somehow get closer to the purple haired rapper.

You laugh, the sounds catches him of guard and makes he heart thump against his chest in a way he despises. “I’m not trying to get on some pedestal with him.” You say pointing over to Thanos, “If anything I’m trying to get on ‘some pedestal’ with you.” You finish, pointing to him.

The words make him think he’s hallucinating, he’s questioning how much drugs he’s done tonight. He’s never been with a girl like you, he’s not even sure he’d know what to do with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He mumbles taking your bad of weed from you. He inspects it, like he’s expecting you to hand him some trash weed. “It’s not weak shit, ‘s good.” You say pointing to it as he takes a nug out and inspects it.

“I dunno. Girls like you usually have shit weed.” He grumbles. You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “The fucks that supposed to mean?” You ask, he doesn’t answer, only responding with another question of his own, “Can you roll?” He asks it like he already knows the answer and you can’t.

He really was not the ladies man. No wonder you didn’t ever see him leaving the club with a female companion. You decide to not answer him, instead just reaching over to grab your weed back from him. He assumes that you’re gonna take your stash and leave but you don’t.

You grab the cigar off the tray in front of him, the one he was about to begin to roll when you showed up. Beginning to split it, your nails run down the cigar breaking it open dumping the tobacco onto the rolling tray into the pile already accumulated by the past blunts smoked by the group.

He watches on, surprised by how well you do it. He wasn’t too impressed by the girls Thanos usually had rolling- but you? Well it made him less uneasy. But he was still so awkward next to you.

You could see him out of the corner of your eye, beginning to break down the weed with hands that would not stop shaking. Admittedly you loved the visual, his long slender fingers rolling the weed to break it down, adorned with a couple silver rings, it was a real treat. But it was so interesting to see him work like that, like he truly had no idea you actually found him attractive.

You reach over to grab some of the weed he was breaking down, purposefully running your hand along his, your manicured nails dancing along the top of his hand. It makes him freeze, you can see him tense up. You draw your hand back to begin to fill the wrap with the weed you picked up. You think maybe you’re shit out of luck- that he really wasn’t interested. But, when you look up to his face his eyes are trained on where the feeling of your fingers lingered on his hand and the corner of his bottom lip was caught in his teeth.

“I’m not gonna bite y’know…” You say in a soft sweet tone, scooting closer to him so your thighs press against his. You’re shoulder to shoulder. “I know..” he mumbles in response, dusting his hands off and then leaning his elbows on his knees. He’s sat forward, arms hanging down between his knees.

His eyes turn towards you, anxiously darting around your face, tracing the column of your neck, to your collar bone, to where your super low cut dress digs into the swell of your breasts, making it look like your tits we’re nearly ready to fall out of the dress, then down lower to where his eyes lock on to where your bare thigh presses against him.

His eyes then watch on as you expertly roll the blunt, tucking it into itself. You leave a part of it unrolled, your tongue coming out to lick at the blunt. He thinks his heart stopped or maybe his heart beat is all the way in his dick- he doesn’t know. But he watches as your tongue slowly lathes over the wrap, it’s like you’re putting on a show that was only for him. He can feel himself getting uncomfortably hot.

You finish, your eyes turning towards him as you fold down the flap, sealing the blunt, and then passing it over to him. “Is it up to your standards, sir?” You say teasingly, leaning towards him a bit more. You can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs when he swallows thickly when the nickname falls from your lips.

He brings one of his hands up to his mouth, dragging the skin down, like you would literally be the death of him- like he’s trying to compose himself. You really haven’t done much and you already seem to have an effect on him- oh you’re fucking him tonight.

He snatches the blunt from you, inspecting it. He hated to admit it was good, maybe even better than the ones he would roll, but he wouldn’t tell you that. “‘S good enough.” He says and shrugs. “Woooow” you say laughing, “I see how it is…tough crowd.”

He puts the blunt in his mouth and grabs a lighter. He looks ungodly good with the blunt hanging loosely from his lip as he searches for a lighter. He looks to the table to try and find the lighter he brought- it wasn’t there. Maybe in his pocket? His hands pat the pocket of his jacket and jeans, it wasn’t there.

Then you’re leaning over him, flicking a lighter that you brought and lighting the blunt. When he begins to inhale, his eyes lock with yours, taking in the way you look against the red-orange hue of the flame. When the blunt is lit, you flick the lighter off and slowly lean back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, settling back into the couch and hitting the blunt. As the smoke slowly flows out of his mouth, he hands the blunt out to you. You move to lean on the back of the couch, one arm propped up. Your chest was pressed into his as you lean even closer to him to grab the blunt. As you put it to your mouth and inhale your eyes never leave his.

He looks at you as if you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Here you were, all up on him, in a cute little leather dress and heels that looked like they were more than his rent for a month, all with a pretty little face to match.

You let the smoke sit in your mouth before letting slip past your lips only the smallest bit before inhaling through your nose. He could feel himself become hot, shifting his hips forward on the couch to adjust his cock that begins to swell against his thigh.

“So you’re a promoter here?” You ask, and suddenly he seems to connect the dots (or at least he thinks he does). You probably wanted free drinks or a vip booth or free cover, but all that- anything he gives out, comes out of his pocket and he hardly had money for the weed he was smoking now.

“Yeah. But I can’t get you free cover, or drinks, or a VIP band.” He says curtly, inhaling from the blunt you handed back to him. You scoff, a bit offended he felt so little of you but with the people he hangs around, and the girls of the scene; you can’t blame him for thinking that.

“I don’t care about that. Was just tryin’ to make conversation with you.” You say pouting. He quirks up an eyebrow and laughs, “Okay, humor me..” he says turning to lean closer to you, “then why are you talking to me, you didn’t want my drugs, you don’t want to get closer to Thanos, don’t want free drinks or VIP, what the fuck could you possibly want from me?”

You take the blunt back as he passes it, inhaling before speaking, “Simple. You’re hot. I wanna fuck.” You say shrugging. He’s not even hitting the blunt and he chokes, sitting up straight and looking at you wide eyed like he hallucinated the whole thing. You laugh at his reaction, it’s a genuinely loud laugh that has you clutching your stomach.

“You…what?” He asks, his voice unsure, like you’re speaking a different language. He did not expect those words. you giggle again, “Here, I’ll put it a different way….” You muse as you lean closer, your faces inches apart. “I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me.” You say annunciating every word, your free hand that is resting against the back of the couch reaching out to play with a strand of his hair.

“Yeah, okay..” he says swallowing and nodding excitedly. “Let’s go.” He finishes. You shake your head “We still got nearly a whole blunt to finish, we’re not leaving anywhere just yet.” You grin, your hand holding up the blunt. He looks at you like a kicked puppy, pouring.

You roll your eyes “So eager. We can have a little fun while it finishes, everyone here is busy themselves or drugged out of their mind.” You coo to him, he looks at you confused. You laugh softly to yourself, your free hand grabbing the hand that’s resting on his bouncing leg that’s close to you. You guide his hand to your inner thigh, dragging it up your flesh until his pinky finger is brushing against your clothed pussy.

His breath catches in his throat, fuck, you’d be the death of him. His hand turns, his fingers almost immediately fall into a rhythm of rubbing up and down your cunt over your panties. It makes you bite your lip and nod in approval, the small movement of praise and the feeling of your warm cunt beginning to soak through your panties onto his finger makes his cock swell to a large tent in his jeans one that was impossible to hide.

You remove your hand from over his, reaching over to grip his cock over his jeans, massaging the bulge. His head throws back, landing against the back of the couch. “Come on now..” you say, emphasizing your words with a particularly hard squeeze, “still gotta be with it enough to hit the blunt.” You tease handing it over to him.

He doesn’t lift his head, instead he reaches out blindly to grip your hand, fingers wrapping around your hand to find the blunt. He grips it, pulling it to his mouth. You let out a surprised squeak when his hand moves to push your panties to the side, his fingers returning to your bare cunt.

When he feels the warmth of your bare pussy against his hand he lets out a moan around the blunt that he pulls from his mouth. His fingers dip into your folds, just feeling you. You’re already beginning to get wet, allowing his fingers to move easily as he begins to spread your arousal around.

You pass the blunt back and forth, never stopping your ministrations on each other. You couldn’t help but to grind against his hand, catching your clit on his palm with every roll of your hips. You’re dripping over his hand, only making him even more desperate for anything you’re willing to give him. He doesn’t say anything, he literally thinks he couldn’t if he even tried.

Your hand continues to massage his clothed erection, your hand moving up and down over the fabric, cupping the girth of his cock. You knew the possibility of someone looking on and seeing the two of you was high, but the idea only made you wetter. You knew it would be quite a show, and anyone who saw it would be too drunk or high to remember it the next day. So if they wanted to look on, let them.

When you let the last hit you took roll out over your mouth and look over to him to pass him the blunt, you’re met with a delightful sight. He’s leaned back in the couch, head thrown back as he takes the blunt. His legs are spread wide, hips rolling up to meet your hand.

When he hands the blunt back to you, you realize it’s basically at the end of its life so you’re putting it out on the ash tray and scooting closer to him. Your nose trails up his neck until your lips reach his earlobe. “The blunt’s done.” As soon as the words left your mouth his head shoots up and he turns to you.

His eyes trace over your face frantically as if he’s searching for some sign that you backed out of the idea you proposed. “Still wanna fuck?” You ask simply, playing with a silver chain that he has around your neck. He nods frantically, “God, yes..” he says breathlessly.

You giggle and pull him into you by his jacket. When you kiss him you can feel him tense up a bit, he takes a second to relax and when he does he’s melting into you. His lips move with yours, a little messy but it’s so desperate and eager you don’t even care. You’re pulling him impossibly closer to you, your tongue snaking into his mouth.

You begin to stand off the couch, pulling him with you so you two don’t break. When he’s standing fully his hands are on you, on your waist, on your ass, just feeling you. You were like the many porno mags and videos he’s jacked off to, nothing like anyone he’s actually fucked before.

He hardly could pay for his apartment so he normally worked over time at the club you found yourself in for overtime that was hardly worth it. So the girls he usually fucked were shitty hook ups in the ally or even using a glory hole that’s in the club, but you? You were a whole new caliber for him and he wanted to make every moment of it.

You pull away panting, he’s the same. “C’mon.” You simply say and drag him off to the back hallway of the club where the bathrooms were. Once you make it to the hallway, you’re back on him, kissing him with a fury as you guide the two of you into the ladies bathroom.

You two fumble through the door, crashing into the wall of the bathroom. His mouth is doing wonders, you’re addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours and he is the exact same.

The kiss is desperate, like he’s worried you’ll rip away from him and go off into the crowd of the club never to be seen again. You pull him into one of the stalls of the bathroom by the fabric of his shirt. When you have him in one of the bathroom stalls you’re pushing him backwards, his back collides with door, closing the stall.

You’re thankful that the bathroom was decently clean, sure the walls were covered in graffiti and there was most certainly a glory hole carved into the wall of the stall- but the toilets and floor were free of piss and vomit- which is why you picked the girls bathroom in the first place, hoping to get the better end of the bargain between pick of bathrooms.

His hand drops from your hip, reaching behind him to fumble with the lock of the stall, latching it in place. His hand is back on your hip, like he needed to feel you and any moment away from you is like he’d die. You pull away from his lips and you swear you could cum from the facial expression he has alone. His eyebrows are upturned in desperation, his mouth parted as he try’s to catch his breath.

You don’t give him time to, your lips begin to trail down his jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses as you move down his neck. His grip on your hips is like a vice, his nails beginning to leave crescent shaped marks where they dig into the leather fabric of your dress.

His hands move around your back and down gripping at the leather of your dress to pull it up over your ass. His hands are against your flesh almost instantly, meeting your ass and gripping at the flesh, squeezing it and kneading it in his large hands

You could feel his pulse as you kissed along the side of his neck, it was erratic and hard, like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. You nipped and sucked at his pale skin, leaving red and purple hues in your wake. Marking him as yours.

“Y-you’re a fucking minx..” he says breathlessly, his head kicked back against the bathroom door. You bite particularly hard at his shoulder, he grits his teeth and growls, a sound that makes your cunt throb. One of his hands pulls back to slap your ass, it’s a hard, sharp sting; the sound resounding through the bathroom. You moan against his skin and arch back into his hands.

He lets out a breathless laugh, like he truly can’t believes that you are on him right now. He wasn’t a virgin, far from it. But the girls he was with were never anything to write home about, always a drugged out one-night stand, him usually doing all the work for her to only do the bare minimum if it meant the girl got drugs.

But you? Oh fuck. He genuinely thought he was dreaming.

“Mhm…I know…” you mumble out between giggles. Your hands run up his chest and up to his shoulders, beginning to push the jacket he had on off his shoulders. He beats you to it though, he’s so eager.

He shoves his jacket he was wearing off his shoulders, taking it off and grabbing it, beginning to move to throw it over the bathroom stall. But you grab it moving to bunch it up and toss it on the ground between you two. “Bitch, what the-“ you can see him about to begin to scold you for dropping his jacket to the floor, his voice angered. But he’s cut off when you drop to your knees

“Oh…” he breathes out, looking down at you in awe. “Yeah, ‘oh’” you mock with a giggle, your hands running up his thighs, and then trailing inward to grip at the bulge in his jeans. Your smile widens as you hear the choked gasp he lets out. “For someone who was so callous and cold with me up until a couple of minutes ago, you’re really hard aren’t you?” You say looking up at him.

He lets out a sound that resembles a growl, looking down at you with the same angry stare but his eyebrows are turned up, the telltale sing of his desperation he’s trying to hide. You make quick work of undoing his button and zipper. You pull his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock.

You figured he’d be packing, but fuck. He was long and heavy, veins running along the underside in tantalizing lines. It has your mouth watering.

“Fuck you’re huge..” you praise as you run your hands up and down his thighs, leaning in to place gentle kisses along the side, starting at the base of his cock and working your way up. “You’re a dream..” he mumbles out, more to himself than you. It makes you giggle, pulling away before placing a kiss on the tip of his cock, your tongue coming out to lap at the bead of pre-cum that beads at his red and angry tip.

“No, ‘m real.” You hum, placing another kiss to the underside of his tip. He shudders. You turn your head to the side, sticking your tongue out and pressing his cock to it. You slide your tongue back and forth a few times, wetting his cock. “What’s it gonna take for me to prove I’m real?” You say looking up at him with a pout, as you speak your lips brush against his dick.

“Hmm, I know! Fuck my throat.” You say with a grin, looking up at him. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, a muffled moan coming out of his throat. “That should make you know this isn’t a dream.” You giggle as you part your lips, slowly slinking down onto his cock.

When he passes through your soft lips and into your warm mouth his stomach tenses, a groan coming through his closed mouth. You move your head down, taking more of his thick cock into your mouth. Your tongue flattening to lick at the veins on the underside of his dick.

His eyes finally open, looking down at the sight below him and letting out the breath he had been holding. He reaches down, cupping your face to feel how stretched out your jaw was- yet you’re taking him so well. His hand moves to the back of your head, beginning to guide you up and down his cock. Your eyes never stop looking up at him, taking him in your throat so fucking well.

If he were to die right here and now, he would be a happy man. The heaven that was your mouth was something he didn’t know he was aching for, for what seemed like years; even if he just met you- like the solace that was your mouth was the answer to all his problems.

And so he began to take it out on you. Which is just what you wanted. Both his hands meet at your head, cradling your skull as he begins to thrust his cock into your throat. You brace your hands against his thighs, pushing his jeans and underwear down further so you can rest skin to skin.

His hands push you down his cock, letting out a strangled groan as your tongue lathes over the entirety of his dick as he begins to draw it in and out of your warm, wet mouth. His head is thrown back against the stall, his mouth parted, letting all the little gasps and whines he’s letting out be heard for anyone in the bathroom.

His head lolls to the side, his eyes that were screws shut open to look down at you and when he catches your gaze he lets out a breathless gasp, “H-hah….you sure know how to suck cock don’t you?” He rasps out, trying to seem unfazed but his shaky words give him away.

You purposefully begin to make filthy slurping sounds, head pushing down farther than his hands were pushing you. You’re opening your mouth as wide as you can, sinking almost all the way down. You never break eye contact. He watches as your tongue slips past your lips, even with a mouthful of cock, a trail of your saliva beginning to drop from the pink muscle.

All he can think about is the feeling that your tongue would offer his balls and the tightness of your throat around the entirety of his cock. So his hands meet the back of your head again, and push you the rest of the way down.

He’s hunched over you, pressing your nose to his pelvic bone. Your tongue runs over his heavy balls, your throat swallowing around him, it’s an unearthly feeling. His hips grind his cock into your mouth, shivering at the feeling of your warm tongue and wet spit covering his balls and making a complete mess of him.

He pulls you off of his cock by the back of your hair, looking down at you like you just gave him the secret of the universe, “How the fuck do you do that…” he asks in an awkward tone, genuinely baffled, his voice shaking. It makes you laugh, your need for him only growing stronger with his awkward quips.

“I dunno..” you shrug, a trail of spit connecting your plush lips to the tip of his cock. Your tongue darts out to lick at the string, disconnecting it. One of your hands lifts up to begin to pump his cock. Your spit that coats his girth only serving as extra lubrication for every flick of your wrist. “I just do it..” you mumble, looking up at him innocently.

He tosses his head back, both of his hands coming up to drag his face as he groans, trying to catch his breath that he swears you stole from him. “Holy fuck…” he groans to himself, you really are too much for him.

With your hand still moving up and down his cock you place your mouth back on his tip, swirling your tongue around it to collect the salty pre-cum that is spilling endlessly out of his slit. His hand clasps over his mouth as he lets out a choked moan, his other hand coming to rest on the top of your head, gently guiding your movements once more. “Y-you’re so fucking good at this…” he pants out, his hips beginning to thrust into your mouth.

You accept it gratefully, your mouth dropping open wide and taking him deep in your mouth. His eyebrows turn upward as he realizes you really are letting him truly fuck your mouth. He reaches his shaky hands down, cradling the sides of your skull and holding you still as he thrusts brutally into the warm tightness of your throat.

You’re choking around him, even forcing spit out of your mouth to make it infinitely more messy. He looks down at you with clenched teeth, his bottom lip becoming caught between his teeth as he continues his pace, the tip of his cock slipping past the tight ring of your throat every time he surges forward.

He can feel himself getting close, but he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. No, he’s going to savor this, he wanted to cum deep in your pussy.

He’s grabbing the back of your hair and hauling you to a standing position. You’re spun around and pushed up against the wall of the bathroom stall, his hands are working to bunch your dress even higher. He’s running his hands along your stomach and then down lower. His hands grip at your inner thighs, pulling your ass back against him as he rocks his hard length between the valley of your ass.

You’re panting breathless, your hands braced against the stall as you push back against him. You shake your ass a little, whining when you feel his cock slip down between your thighs. “Close ‘em.” He growls, his hands moving to your hips. You do as he says.

A high pitched whine comes out of your mouth when you feel him begin to draw his hips back, running the length of his cock between the lips of your cunt. Every time he surges his hips forward his thick cock-head catches your clit in the most delicious way.

You can feel your cunt wetting his cock as he fucks your thighs, helping him to slide his cock even more. With his forehead resting against your shoulder blade, you’re hearing every pant, groan, and moan that falls out of his lips. And fuck does he sound so good.

“So fuckin’ wet.” He groans out, his hands holding your hips in a bruising grasp. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, the top of his cock grinding up against your clit, moving back and forth in short motions to keep his throbbing cock-head against your puffy clit. “Please, want you inside me…” you cry out, your eyes looking back over your shoulder. He groans, his hands grip harder at your hips, his movements stalling like he’s trying to contain himself from burying his cock balls deep inside you right then.

“Lemme feel you some more..your thighs are so soft” he says lowly, his head picking up from your shoulder to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His movements continue, “feels so fuckin good, perfect fucking cunt…so soft…” For someone who wasn’t very talkative when you first met, he’s sure running his mouth now. And oh my god, you love it.

He shifts again so he can run your pussy along the entire length of his dick. Your cunt weeps around him, making an obscene mess between your thighs. He’s panting heavily against your neck, lips beginning to kiss along your neck in messy sporadic movements.

All you can do is helplessly rut your hips back against him, dragging your pussy along his cock as he thrusts. It feels so fucking good, every time his tip hits your clit you’re jolting against him. One of his hands moves from your hip up to the top of your dress. He stretches the fabric down, your tits spill out from the fabric, and one of them is instantly grabbed by his hand. He’s squeezing the flesh like it’s a life line.

“Holy fuck…” you call out in a shuddering breath, your knees beginning to feel weak. “Please, f-fuck put it in.” You beg, your head tilting to nudge his face, he tilts his head up and latches his lips onto yours. The kiss is mostly tongue, it’s frenzied and messy but it’s so so hot. He pulls away with a grunt “Fucking impatient.”

He shoves you into the bathroom stall by the back of your shoulder. Your tits are pressed into the cold metal of the stall as he grips the base of his cock, dragging it up and down your pussy, collecting your arousal on the head of his dick.

It’s a phenomenal feeling and when he looks down, one of his hands gripping one side of your ass and pulling, the sight that greets him is even better. Your sopping, wet cunt is clenching around nothing, pushing more arousal out onto his cock. He circles the tip of his cock around your entrance, he sucks in a deep breath- he genuinely has to gather himself so he doesn’t shoot his load right there on your spread pussy, as much as that would be a great sight.

When the head of his cock begins to sink into your tight hole you both let out shuddering gasps. And when he cants his hips forward ever so slightly, his fat tip sinking fully into your cunt with an audible ‘pop’, both of you let out moans.

“F-fuck you’re so t-tight.” His voice is wavering, shaky, desperate- it has you going insane. It’s like you’re squeezing the life out of his cock, and you were. He swore your greedy cunt was sucking him in. His hips surge forward, sinking further into your sopping walls, his arms leave your hips to wrap fully around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“O-oh my fu-fucking god.” You sob out, it felt like he was splitting you open, but you wanted, needed, more. You’re forcing your hips backwards, making his cock sink into you more. He lets out a surprised gasp, his arms tightening around you as he hisses through clenched teeth, “F-fuck!! S-slow down, girl. S-shit.”

You can’t help the fucked-out grin that spreads across your face as you hear him, it’s a desperate plea, like the consuming squeeze of your cunt would be the death of him. You don’t listen, instead you push your hips back one final time, your ass becoming flush with his hips and thighs.

When his cock is sheathed fully in your spasming cunt he lets out a choked groan, arms squeezing around you so tight you damn near thought you’d break. And you echo, the feeling of the entirety of his cock is so intense. You’re feel like you’re split open, speared on his cock. You swear you can feel the tip of his cock press softly against your cervix.

“Y-you’re so big…” you say breathlessly, eyes rolling so far back you swore you could see your skull. You try to begin moving your hips against him, but he squeezes you even tighter- a squeak coming out of you, your movements halted. “Don’t you dare….” He rasps, his chest heaving against your back, “…fucking move.”

He’s holding you still, he has to regain some ground before you begin to fuck yourself back against him. He’s thinking anything he can to get his mind off of cumming deep into your cunt here and now. He can feel your walls spasming around him, greedily sucking him in like it’s coaxing him to thrust into you.

He sits there a couple moments before unwrapping his arms from your waist and leaning back, his hands finding purchase on your ass. He draws his hips back, the delicious drag of his cock pulling out of your cunt has you resting your head against the wall, hands curling into fists then flattening again as your tried to grasp at something to keep you on this plane of existence.

He draws his cock so just the tip rests in your pussy before slamming back in. He lets out a choked groan, the feeling of your messy walls coating his cock with your syrupy arousal and squeezing around him like a vice is better than any drug he’s ever tried- and he’s tried a lot.

“Tightest fucking c-cunt…” he rasps, his hips positioning into you at a brutal pace, the plush of your ass recoiling against his thighs with every thrust. “Where the f-fuck have you b-been..” he says between thrusts, his breath heavy, “…all this fucking time.” His thrusts are erratic, sloppy even, but it’s so so so good.

You can feel your cunt gush around his dick, with every thrust his cock kisses your cervix in a pleasurable pressure that has you rocking back against him harder. “H-harder, f-fuck, harder!” You cry out, one of your hands coming down to play with your clit.

He sees this and leans back over you, swatting your hand away before replacing it with his. His thrusts speed up, becoming rougher, his cock abusing your cunt. “I-if that’s what you need I want t-to be the one to do it..” he whines into your ear. It has you moaning, arching into his touch and creaming around him even more.

His fingers dance along your clit, the soft feeling of your pussy is surely going to be something he remembers for days to come. You’re so wet his hand slides effortlessly around your silky bud. “I-I’ve fucking dreamed of a pussy like this…” he moans into your hear, his hips jackhammering into you. Every messy thrust creates a wet splashing sound as your arousal coats his thighs and your ass.

All you can do is nod helplessly against the bathroom stall, your hand gripping at his wrist as his fingers work against your sloppy cunt. “And you’re fucking creamin’ around me so much, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess…” his words broken up by his moans, “You’re like right out of a f-fucking porno…” he adds with a particularly high pitched whine as you bare down on him hard.

The compliment is awkward but you couldn’t help it, the idea of him alone in his apartment fisting his dick desperately to porn videos he could only dream of reenacting, and now he’s living it- made you tumble closer to the edge more than you cared to admit.

“F-fuck I’m close.” You sob out, your hand gripping his wrist in a vice like grip as his fingers dance along your clit, massaging it between his two fingers before going back to drawing circles, “H-holy f-fuck I can feel it, squeezing my cock so fucking t-tight.” He choked out, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder as he draws his hips all the way back to only to let them back forwards, slamming into balls deep.

“C-cum in me please, fuck I-i need to feel it.” When the words fall from your lips he lets out a choked sob, “F-fucking h-hell yes, fuck yes I will..” he says, almost like you answered a silent prayer he had. His fingers working faster against your puffy clit, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he pounds your puffy cunt.

“Gonna c-cum so fuckin deep in you…” he groans out, his lips ghosting along your earlobe. You nod desperately, “P-please, oh god, please!” You cry out, the worry of people hearing you is long gone.

His hand that wasn’t playing with your clit leaves your hip to travel up to grab your neck. He squeezes, pulling you up and back against him. It makes his cock drive impossibly deeper. You moan out, it’s a strangled sound that only makes his hips piston up harder into you.

With his fingers working faster against your clit, his cock pile driving your poor cunt, and his hand grasping at your throat enough to make your vision go hazy- you’re hurling towards a powerful orgasm in a split second

You cum and you cum hard. You let out a high pitched moan, your cunt squeezing and baring down on his cock like you’re trying to milk him, almost forcing him out of your pussy with how hard you’re pulsating. And you look down in shock when your release gushes out of you in a violent stream.

“O-oh my god…you’re fucking squirting.” He exclaims breathlessly, still working his fingers against you and thrusting his thick cock into you spraying your cum everywhere. It floods around his cock and sprays to the floor. You shake against him, crying out as you continue to cum. And he’s right behind you.

The sound he lets out is sinful, something that you wish you could have recorded. You feel each thick spurt of cum flood the inside of your cunt in. It’s so warm, filling you up even further than you already are.

His hips rut against you, trying to fuck his cum deeper into you. Your head falls back against his shoulder, your body violently shaking against him. When you look down you see the bathroom tiles are flooded with your release. You can also see the cum that drips out of you onto his cock, covering his balls with even more of a mess.

He drops his hand from your neck to your waist holding you against him as he falls forward, his other hand resting against the bathroom stall, your own hand falling right under his to also steady yourself as your two stand there breathless. You’re sure if he wasn’t holding you up by your waist you’d fall boneless to the floor.

You look back down to where you to connect, the floor covered in a debauched mix of both your cum. You let out a whimper when you watch a thick glob of his cum fall out from you and onto the floor with a ‘plap’ sound.

“You filled me so much cum…” you whine, hips rolling against him. He squeezes you, “Keep s-still, f-fuck.” He hisses, his softening dick over sensitive in your tight pussy. “You fucking milked me….” He retorts, “s’not my fault.” He mumbles.

“Would it be too late to ask for your phone number or was this like a one off thing or…” he begins to ramble. “I let you cum in me, you made me squirt- I’m getting your fucking phone number.” You say laughing. “O-okay good.” He sighs against you.

You think he’s about to pull out, allow you to get dressed and be on your way but no. His hips begin to rock into yours again, “C-can I please make you squirt again… I wanna see it.” He begs, his nose running against your neck.

And when he asks like that, a whiney lilt to his voice. How could you say no?

im literally having so much fun getting through these requests. Requests are still open they will just take some time!!

Next up I got another nam-gyu smut (this time he’s ROUGH!!! Yall like omg the stuff im writing is filthy).

And we also have so much love for the original thangyu request so I got a couple requests for that coming up 😩😩

As always, thank you for reading and sending in requests. Your love is always appreciated 🥺🥲🥲🥺 - <3 kiwi

#nam gyu #namgyu fanfic #squid game fanfic #squid game fanfiction #namgyu smut #namgyu x reader #player124 #player124 smut #namgyu x reader smut #Nam gyu x reader smut #nam-gyu x reader smut #player124 x you #player 124 x reader #player 124 x reader smut #x reader squid games #squid games smut #namgyu x y/n #namgyu x y/n smut

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bookshelf-dust · 3 days ago

Text

relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming.

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc.

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble.

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides.

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being.

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter.

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes.

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face.

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you.

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears.

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it.

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners.

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be.

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you.

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.”

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love.

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night.

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront.

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you.

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives.

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out.

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you.

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style.

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date.

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it. “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile.

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together.

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face.

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation.

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes.

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him.

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says.

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash.

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary.

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands.

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance.

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not.

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view.

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers.

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed.

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash.

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience.

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches.

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you.

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak.

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing.

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease.

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships.

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first.

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished.

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up.

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want.

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again.

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words.

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him.

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties.

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral.

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-”

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl.

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed.

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.”

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles.

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.”

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit.

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—”

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?”

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted.

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you.

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud.

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making.

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep.

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes.

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit.

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before.

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think.

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated.

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt.

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body.

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman.

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder.

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile.

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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p3achr-ngs · 2 days ago

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Lost photographs - Sevika

After going through some boxes, you find a rare item belonging to your girlfriend

( by now we all seen that one fanart of sevika as a kid, for the life of me I cannot find that now that I'm searching for it. But I'll make sure to give credits when I find it again... Also SFW, FLUFF, sorry that I've been lacking)

Edit; found it

While Sevika is out working, it's not unusual for you to be cleaning, organizing, or whatever to keep you busy. So you're going through boxes and throwing stuff that you no longer need away.

You kneel down in front of the open closet, pulling and picking up boxes that you left there. Opening them up and smiling at old memories with photographs, letters, etc. it took a bit to get through most of the boxes. With your keep pile and discard pile separate, you feel a sense of pride knowing you're finally able to part with some old silly stuff.

After a while of putting the stuff that you decide to keep neatly back, you noticed one box all the way in the back.

"oh hello, didn't see you"

This is strange, you don't recall any of these items. Small and damaged stuffed animals.. drawings.. when the hell did you do these?

murmuring as if the box could hear and understand you. So you reached and pulled it out of the closet, sitting it down on the bed. You didn't even see the huge ' SEVIKA'S, DONT TOUCH!' written in bold on the other side before you opened it.

But that's when you pulled out a few pictures and saw it.

Little sevika. Looking all so innocent and adorable.

" oh my goodness.. "

You squeal to yourself. Giggling at how small she was with her cute gap teeth, big ol eyes. You just wanted to squeeze her! Being that cute had to be a crime.

...

You didn't even hear the front door unlocking or even shutting. Not realizing anyone else was in the house until you heard

" babe! I'm home!"

From sevika by the living room.

Quickly, but gently, you put back the photograph and other objects into the box and pushed it to the back of the closet. Shutting the door shut.

Shitshitshit!

You shouldn't be looking at these!! Sevika was very private and hidden about her past! You knew she didn't have it easy, now one did in the under city but still. You just totally accidentally invaded a deep personal and emotional side of her!

You celebrated quietly when you put the stuff away seemingly unnoticed.

" oh uhm! Give me a sec!"

Calling back, realizing your silence was most definitely suspicious to your darling girlfriend.

Smirking, you turned around. Only to freeze, stunned with your blood turning cold.

Sevika in the doorway. Arms crossed, looking unamused at you.

" fuck! Hi babe- didn't uhm.. hear you.."

Fuuuuuuuucccccck.

You were caught. Caught big time. Oh dear lord.

You squeaked out. Most definitely giving a nervous smile. One a dog would make at its owner when it was caught doing something it shouldn't have, and then getting scolded.

"what was that box."

Sevika bore into you. Her sentence is more so testing you, rather than a question. She knew what was in the box. You knew. You were in trouble.

Gulping. You come to terms knowing that it's best to tell the truth. Especially with the look she's giving you now.

" I swear it wasn't on purpose sev!"

You began

" I was going through my boxes, cleaning them out! I thought I was done until I saw one in the very back. So I grabbed it without seeing or reading any of the writing on it. And looked through! That's when I noticed it wasn't mine!"

You told her the truth. Feeling so guilty.

Hearing a deep sigh, and seeing her run her eyes. Sevika walked forward, standing closer to you now and looking down.

" what did you see."

Sevika huffed out..

" nothing much!..well.. I did find this cute picture of little you.."

You murmured.

There was silence. Clearing your throat, you tried to ease the tension.

" I'm sorry. I swear didn't know. "

Sevika did scold you for opening the box up and such, telling you not to do it again. But after a while you two came in terms of her favorite dinner being cooked alongside her favorite dessert.. of course you pampered her with kisses too.

But really, in the end. You're not sorry for seeing the adorable picture. Who knew she was once innocent and free.

( this was low-key kinda rushed and free balled, but thank y'all for reading and such!)

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #wlw #lesbian

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horizon-verizon · 2 hours ago

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@jimmyjones12345 @pessimisticpigeonsworld

Also, to expand & explain what pigeon was saying about "it is a part of the Love vs Duty theme GRRM has woven throughout all of ASoIaF":

Rhaegar and Lyanna's story is written as a love story, specifically a forbidden love story in the vein of their "duties" as noblepeople functions to make even the nobles themselves both unhappy and subject to the abuses and exploitation of their parents. It suppresses their free will particularly in who they get to marry, reproduce with, and be intimate with and not even just romantically/sexually but also platonically. Especially if you are a woman/girl like Lyanna.

From small childhood (5 and up, and I am giving a number under 10 arbitrarily but it still runs true that it is under 10), Westerosi aristocracy and their parents and the Faith (happens in the North, too) impart and compel girls to comport their minds and bodies to towards marriage and away from activities that lend toward leadership or resource-acquirement through warfare. Masculinized activities. Because women are socially assigned the role as breeders for men's heirs. Men's "bearer-teacher-warden of his children" (Howard Zinn, A Peoples History of the United States). All that discipline of feminine "grace" and obedience getting s about that, this the emphasis of pre-marriage virginity and post-marriage chastity--sexual purity, to "ensure" women do not birth children that aren't their husbands and "cuckold" or discredit him in the eyes of his peers. As she is meant to participate and support the man's dignity by staying "pure" and he is supposed to maintain said "dignity" by maintaining seeming and actual control over those deemed his property or under his authority. Obviously this has included his wife, even his betrothed bc that is a deal made between the father or whatever make relative lives for the betrothed girl and the soon-to-be husband/his family. Lyanna is directly disobeying this "duty" by defying her socially signed destiny. And like pigeon said, she defies it by engaging and being good at the masculinized martial activities when she becomes the Knight of the Laughing tree, learned how to fight, and won an actual tourney against grown men.

How does Rhaegar disobey or defy his aristocratic duties? It's more layered. First, you are supposed to obey your father AND your king in Westerosi' mores of the social concept and dynamics of "family" AND the obligations of obedience owed to one's king. (Kingslaying is a serious taboo). This isn't a Valerian or a Targ thing, it's been an Andal thing since way before the Conquest. Rhaegar planned to usurp Aerys' and take the throne because Aerys' was crazy and running things to high corruption. But not only that, Rhaegar was doing it bc he believed that he had to prepare the kingdom for the coming cataclysmic Long Night and either be the prince that was promised or produce them--and you can't do that when your government is and its base +the aristocracy) is so divided and distrustful of each other.

Other than that, he was also married to Elia and it's described by the author himself as a "tragedy" somewhat dramatically but also it was corroborated by Barristan Selmy that their marriage was not exactly what Rhaegar would have chosen. Two things can be true at once: Rhaegar, as a man, was not and would never be subject to the helplessness and life-long forced compliance of shaping his entire personality and desires for a person who'd be his intimate, lifelong "superior as a husband is to the woman-wife AND he can be unfaithful as much as he can the way noblewomen could never be, but he is also still not entitled to choose the person he's meant to have kids with NOR create a relationship with/build trust with. This is not just sympathy, it is fact.

GRRM says his relationship with Elia was "complex", and I take that to mean that he simply was never emotionally attached to her despite trying; when you factor in Elia having been so ill that she nearly died birthing Aegon, there appears to have been a previous already existing distance between them that developed more distant. They can't be around together much and Elia couldn't be at court often, and Rhaegar was out busy trying to build alliances, maintain, them, plot against Aerys', and continuously learn more about the prophecy. Elia had been relatively healthy and physically close to Rhaegar in the very beginning of their marriage, yet he didn't get that close with her or was attracted--and we don't know how Elia felt and how her feelings may or may not have progressed. So it's insufficient to say that:

he could have fallen for Elia if Elia had just stayed healthy (GRRM's fault by disabling Elia for RhaegarxLyanna)

Rhaegar should have stayed with Elia during the worst of her illnesses and bed stays instead of "doing the list and being distracted" and he would or could have fallen for her or bonded with her or just liked her enough

If it didn't take in the start when she was relatively the healthiest she was and they didn't have kids, it wasn't going to work later. Rhaegar was "busy' when he met Lyanna, but the attraction there was instant or at least quick to come. And their bond progressed quickly. Plus, I don't think anyone deserves a man who only pays attention to them & "falls" for them when they are so feeble from performing their "duties" as the heir's consort.

Other than the sociopolitical duties of an heir and an aristocratic son of a king, there was also the secret duty Rhaegar took upon himself when he thought he was either the PTWP or had to produce said person or whatever. His duties as a royal/part of the general aristocracy, the heir, and as Aerys' son/political subject directly conflicted with this separate duty, but because he seems to be the only one aware of it, even trying to understand it or use it, and take seriously the worldwide stakes. This is also all considering the fact that he was likely to know Aerys' abusing his mother Rhaella and not being able to do much "legally" or about it since young. At the same time, it is because of others' inattention/selfish pursuits AND because he had the power that he has or saw that he could develop as he got older (as he was doing) and his position that he seemed to think that only he could advance with the prophecy. Thus his "mundane" aristocratic duties and Targaryen (dragonriders blood) ALSO served to enable him to even attempt to try to "save the world" AND yet, this is a different sort of "duty" that his love for Lyanna troubled because it had the strong potential (and outcome, as we see) to derail his plans/focus. Ironically, their love also came in conflict with THIS "duty"--the duty that reflected what I think is Rhaegar's "love" for humanity/justice or at least cosmic and LIFE balance because it tripped up his already shaky control over his affairs, that delicate political balance--his part of the matrix that was the entire Aerys-era politics every known and unknown noble was active in.

So a duty taken completely by one's choice--BUT for people like Rhaegar who care about things more than what is right in front of them or don't focus on JUST their and others' own everyday sociopolitical conditions (which if one is not careful like Rhaegar they can completely neglect and that is not good either) it is not really a "choice" bc it does need to be handled for humanity/society's safety--was directly in conflict, ironically, with that which the sociopolitical conditions have inspired Rhaegar to be attracted and loved Lyanna--the pressures from the responsibilities that of being the heir of a corrupted court and society versus loving that which would defy all of that BECAUSE it defies all of that, which Lyanna was as a person...even though yes she also, ironically, ran off with another woman's husband and would have been recognized as a mistress or paramour of sorts if she hadn't been already betrothed to Robert and these actors all weren't in the type of setting Aerys' and Tywin both influenced. Rhaegar did not create a court of suspicion and fear or make the nobles around him ever more hungry for power, that was Tywin and Aerys as well as the nature of the feudalist monarchy. Yes, how Rhaegar acted was self contradictory and extremely unfair to Elia, maybe Lyanna as well. But they all, to their unique degrees and conditions, were stuck in a rock and a hard place, under many limits.

Rhaegar and Lyanna could not be together because of said monarchial/feudalist conditions not could they successfully be completely themselves as they would have liked bc the same and in their attempts to overcome them, they fucked up BUT they fucked up bc of them not perfectly navigating those limited conditions and trying to innovate a way "out" or around them. And Elia should not have been arranged to marry some guy who would never love her or regard her as every woman deserves, especially in lieu of the prophecy/usual sociopolitical "bigger pictures" that took precedence over her. Whether you believe they should have or didn't. And of course, Lyanna should not have to be forced to marry some dud who'd think he loved her but would have abused and cheated on her. Rhaegar didn't deserve an abusive, crazy, entitled father and had to have basically the entire future of his world AND society on his shoulders bc said father wouldn't come up to the plate.

The issue with Rhaegar was that he planned poorly and failed to rearrange himself or decide how to safely incorporate Lyanna without ruining things with the Martells or ruining other relations BECAUSE he thought the solution and inevitability was that he could do it all. And bc Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree winning the tourney not shortly before Rhaegar gave her the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty and Aerys' wanted to hunt down the Knight (not knowing who she was), there wasn't really much time to make a plan for her safety other than keeping her identity a secret. Layer when they come across each other again, there's many different ideas why and how they ran off. Some say they planned to leave together before they met up again, some say it was a spur of the moment decision in lieu and that Rhaegar was out of Dragonstone just to find more information about the prophecy and happened to see Lyanna about as well. Some say Lyanna sneaked out or tricked her family to leave because Rhaegar might have happened to mention where he'd be or intended to be or just to have some space from said family and Robert. We'll see if GRRM ever manages to finish WoW. It's supposed to be a mystery for now.

In other words, GRRM is not trying to find "answers" to make us apply hard and fast moral standards; he's simply exploring the conditions of love vs duty and how people make their decisions thereof while trying to be good leaders. Of course there's a morality, but the point is to FIGURE OUT and question whether the boundaries of one's conditions require one to consider the quality of familiar morals and ones actions to maybe reconfigure them and one's reality. Be adaptive.

People in the ASOIAF fandom are very obsessed with passive women they can project onto. The obsessions with the characters of show!Alicent, Sansa, Elia, and Helaena are perfect examples of this.

In the show, Alicent is changed from a woman who actively seeks power and heads the scheming of the green faction into a passive victim who watches and reacts to the men around her. And yet, despite this being a much more boring characterization, the show version is vastly more preferred by her stans. They condemn her book character as simply an "evil stepmother trope" while completely ignoring how their fav is just as blank and tropey as they accuse her book counterpart to be. Alicent stans want her to be the show's blank victimized canvas.

Helaena is someone who the show changed very little in the adaptation, because both book and show Helaena have little impact on the plot other than to be victims of their surroundings. Both women are forced to marry Aegon at thirteen and have his children, go through B&C, and are the least active members of the green faction. The show only added elements to make her more tragic: her dreaming and autistic behaviors. Helaena's character makes her the perfect canvas for certain fans to project themselves onto as she simply exists to be victimized and play the dutiful wife/daughter despite her circumstances, just like the show version of her mother.

Elia Martell is a woman who we know very little about. She died thirteen years before the events of ASOIAF and, unlike characters like Rhaegar and Lyanna, she has no pov characters who think about her enough for us to learn anything about her. The only things we know are that she was loved by her family, was in an arranged marriage to Rhaegar, had his two (confirmed) children, and was brutally raped and murdered by Lannister men. She is an unknown character and, again unlike Rhaegar and Lyanna, has no known active role in the events surrounding the Rebellion. Because of these things, she is, again, the perfect blank canvas for people to project on.

Sansa is, despite being a prominent pov character in ASOIAF, a very passive character. She rarely takes action in her circumstances and simply reacts to them while trying to survive. There's nothing wrong with this, she's a young girl who has never had to fight for anything in her life, it's not unexpected or condemnable for her reaction to her circumstances to be this way. However, her passivity is something her stans obsess over. She is praised for being the "perfect lady" and they project their desires to see her rule onto her and how they view her story.

These women have been chosen by these fans because of their passivity and tragedy. They love that the women have suffered in the name of the "duty" they believe is higher than them. Because they love passivity, they hate the women of ASOIAF who are active in their own lives and fight to better their circumstances. Characters like Rhaenyra, Arya, Daenerys, and Lyanna are all massive influences on the world and purposely chose to challenge the patriarchy. Since they did not take their suffering silently, theses certain fans view them as wrong and hate them. They only love the women they can project on and who simply refuse to fight for better lives.

#rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #lyanna's characterization #lyanna stark's characterization #lyanna and rhaegar #Rhaegar's characterization #asoiaf #agot #agot characterization #aerys ii #elia martell #elia and rhaegar #asoiaf writing

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goldfades · 17 hours ago

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i definitely think that hard launch - joe burrow should become a series!!!!

i wanna see the parts on what exactly happened the night they met, their first kiss, first time, everythingggg

★ FIRST KISS

❪ for my kelce sister x joe burrow series ❫

─ warnings | first kiss stuff!!! just a fluffy little blurb to start off my series

─ ev's notes | guys, i have so many fics already written for this series, i just need to edit and they'll be out!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

It had been an easy kind of night, the kind that unfolded naturally, without the weight of expectations or the pressure of anything more than just being in each other’s presence.

The two of you had ended up at his place after a late dinner, neither ready to say goodnight just yet. It wasn’t unusual—some nights stretched longer than they should have, conversations spilling past reasonable hours, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave.

You weren’t sure when hanging out alone with Joe had stopped feeling like something casual, when the ease of your friendship had started carrying a different kind of tension underneath. Maybe it had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through.

You were on the couch, half-curled into the corner, feet tucked under you. Joe sat next to you, his long legs stretched out, one arm resting lazily along the back of the couch. A game had been on earlier, but neither of you had been paying much attention to it. The conversation had drifted from football to music to a bunch of random, inconsequential things.

Then, somehow, you started laughing.

It had been over something so unbelievably stupid—something Joe had said in passing, something you had responded to in a way that sent you both into a downward spiral of uncontrollable laughter. It was the kind that snuck up on you, the kind that made your stomach ache and your face hurt.

Joe had tipped his head back, shoulders shaking, laughing so hard he could barely get a breath in. And you? You had collapsed into the cushions, gasping between giggles, barely able to sit up straight.

“Stop,” you wheezed, pressing a hand to your face, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m not even doing anything,” Joe shot back, grinning, but even as he said it, he let out another breathless laugh.

You turned to him then, still laughing, still breathless, and that’s when it happened. It was subtle, that shift. The kind that sneaks up on you, the kind you don’t notice until it’s already too late.

You were both still smiling, still catching your breath—but suddenly, the air felt different.

You weren’t thinking about the joke anymore. You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Joe was looking at you, the way his laughter had softened into something quieter, something almost thoughtful.

Your breathing slowed.

Joe’s eyes flickered down—just for a second—to your lips.

It was fast. Barely noticeable. But you noticed.

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. Maybe it didn’t even matter.

Because one moment, you were just sitting there, too close, still grinning, still catching your breath—and the next, his lips were on yours.

Soft. Warm. Gentle, at first, like neither of you wanted to shatter the moment, like you were both hesitating at the edge of something unspoken.

The taste of laughter still lingered between you, the remnants of whatever joke had led you here, but now, it felt like something else entirely. Something heavier. Something real.

Joe’s hand found your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make your fingers tighten against his chest.

And then—just as quickly as it started—you pulled back, gasping for air. But neither of you moved far.

Your forehead rested against his, noses brushing, and when you opened your eyes, Joe was already looking at you.

There was something in his gaze—something unreadable but intense, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You could speak. You could laugh it off, pretend like it hadn’t just changed everything.

But you didn’t.

Because Joe didn’t move away.

And neither did you.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #kelce!sister x joey b

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five-rivers · 2 days ago

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Soft body horror makes me think of the soft parts of the body - maybe something happening to his human internal organs would be interesting? Vanishing, mutating, or becoming something Other perhaps

(This is also inspired slightly by Black Hole Son, which is a good fic and a fun read.)

The Fenton Fantom Freezer (and, wow, Danny had sure frozen when he saw that name written down on a scrap of paper on the kitchen table) did not, quite, work as advertised.

The weapon looked and acted like a handheld spotlight more than anything else, but it actually did something with energized beams of ectoplasm that Danny hadn't quite been able to follow when his parents had been gushing over it at breakfast. It was supposed to paralyze ghosts. It was, in fact, supposed to paralyze one ghost in particular. Phantom, as the name suggested.

However, as Danny could currently attest, it did not do that. Not completely, anyway. Instead, it made every movement weak, small, uncoordinated. They were still movements, however, so if he could just manage to move fast enough--

Danny felt the 'spotlight' of the Fenton Fantom Freezer fall on his legs and destroy the little coordination he had managed.

"Mads! I found him! Wow, that Fenton Fantom Freezer worked like a charm!"

Danny tensed - as much as he could, anyway - as his father approached and then dragged him up by the back of his collar, away from the trash he was trying to hide behind.

"Oh, excellent, Jack!" said Maddie, running around the corner. She was carrying a smaller weapon. Danny didn't remember what, exactly, it did, but he knew it was one of the restraint-type weapons. A net gun? No, it was more complicated than one of the net guns. He remembered that much-

He didn't have any more time to think about it. Maddie pressed the muzzle of the weapon against his back and pulled the trigger. Something solid thunked into him, and when Maddie pulled away, it expanded, wrapping around him, forming a... Well, it was a net gun. It was just a complicated net gun. Regardless, once it had fully deployed, it only left his head exposed.

Even if his powers were working properly, instead of responding as weakly as his muscles, Danny could tell getting out of this would be hard. There was a slight buzz through the filaments of the net that told him it was either slightly electrified or energized with ectoplasm. He couldn't tell which one right now, and it didn't really matter. He wouldn't be able to phase through either way.

It reminded him unpleasantly of Vlad's... cube thing. Had he ever gotten the name of that? He didn't remember.

At least this wasn't shocking him. Yet.

Jack heaved Danny over his shoulder, annoyingly careful about keeping the 'spotlight' on him. Spotlight. More like a stoplight. He'd have to use that if he ever had the misfortune of encountering this thing again.

"Can you believe we finally caught him, after all this time?" asked Jack as they started back towards the GAV. Danny could hear the excitement and happiness in his voice, and the same part of himself that had driven him to let his father capture him, once upon a time, fluttered, weirdly pleased to be the object of that excitement. "What should we do to him first?"

"A thorough examination," said Maddie, promptly. "We'll also need to build a dedicated containment facility to better study its capabilities - assuming it survives the examination, which it certainly should, considering."

As his parents started to talk about the experiments they were going to run on him and what they expected the results from his dissection to look like, it occurred to Danny that he should probably... stop this. Somehow. Probably by turning human. That would be good.

Not in the middle of the street where anyone could see, but in the back of the GAV, maybe after the doors were closed and only his parents could see. They would understand. They had to.

Not being able to see where they were going due to being slung over Jack’s back, reaching the GAV was a bit of a surprise. Jack put him down on a fold-out gurney that Danny had only barely been aware of despite being in the vehicle all the time, and started strapping him in before Danny could even formulate what he was going to say. By the time Jack got halfway through, Danny decided that words didn’t matter because the stupid stoplight would probably still be affecting him after he transformed. His luck was bad like that.

He reached for his transformation, and found it out of reach, just like the rest of his powers.

It was a strange experience, to panic mentally without being able to panic physically.

Jack buckled the last strap, cinched it down, then strapped the light overhead, so it would shine on Danny during the whole ride. Then, with a satisfied nod, he shut the back door and went up to the front with Maddie.

The light - the weapon - was also a weird experience. It was oppressive. That was what it was meant to be. It was a weapon. But it was also… gentle, almost. Like a very heavy blanket draped over his whole body. If that blanket had a sheet of lead in it. And also a whole gym’s worth of weightlifting equipment.

His parents were still talking in the front. The actual content of their words flowed through his ears like water down a drain, lost in the buzz of panic, but the mood of it, the excitement… They were giddy. Like kids at a birthday party. Like Danny and his friends at the premiere for the latest Dead Teacher movie.

They were… they were really looking forward to this. To cutting him open.

They’d be so disappointed when he got away. Because he would get away. He had to.

He just… wasn’t sure how, yet.

The car pulled to a stop. “I’ll go ahead and get the lab set up,” said Maddie, unbuckling herself.

“I’ll be right behind you, Maddie!”

Danny tried to tense, tried to prepare himself to escape, but the forced lassitude of the Fantom Freezer didn’t give him any openings. He was unhooked from the gurney and bundled up, just as tight as before, and carried to the front door. No one stopped them. Fentonworks didn’t really have neighbors, for obvious reasons.

From there to the lab was something of a blur. Danny didn’t even remember being carried through the kitchen. But he must have been.

“Oh, good, Jack,” said Maddie. “Just lay it down here.” She gestured at the flat, shiny, clean examination table. Above it a copy of the Fenton Freezer was installed, like a spotlight.

“Great thinking! The battery on this baby was about to run down.”

“I thought so.”

“So, what’re we starting with?” asked Jack.

“Cataloguing the subject’s anatomy,” said Maddie. “Its behavior seems to diverge from other ghosts, but does its body?”

“Ooh! I’ll get out the dissection kit!”

“And I’ll get the recorders!”

His parents split up, running to opposite sides of the lab. This would really be a good time to escape. He wouldn’t even have to go far. The portal was right there.

Painstakingly, he shifted himself to the side of the table.

“Hm,” said Maddie, returning. “It looks like we’ll have to use the restraints after all. It has some movement.”

“Huh,” said Jack. “Maybe we’ll tweak the Fantom Freezer after we see what this guy is made of!”

Maddie put the recorders - already lit up green - to one side and shifted Danny back to the center of the table. “I think that would be a good idea. Having such a simple and safe weapon is a real game-changer.”

Yes. Danny would agree with that statement. This whole situation was certainly a change.

With a press of a button, metal cuffs rose up out of the table top and latched around Danny’s wrists and ankles. “There we go,” said Maddie. “Now, let’s get this suit off of him.” She picked up a pair of scissors.

“What about that zipper, Mads?” asked Jack.

“Oh, interesting,” said Maddie. She squinted down at Danny’s suit. “There is a lot more detail here than I would have expected. You can see the weave.” She took a pinch of the fabric between her fingers and rubbed it back and forth. “It’s fairly similar in texture to standard Fentonworks hazmat fabric, but it’s much colder. I wonder if there is similar detail on the skin.” She reached up to the grab the zipper of Danny’s suit, just under his chin, and started to pull it down.

With a zipping sound, Danny opened up. His ribs pulled back, slowly, gently, like the petals of the flower. He gasped, and he could see his bare lungs inflate. Parts of his intestines, no longer held back by suit-skin, started to bulge and spill out.

Danny’s first thought was that it didn’t make sense. He’d taken his suit off in ghost form before. He’d seen his skin, in all its detail. He could feel his skin right now, his hands resting against the insides of his gloves.

His second, slightly hysterical, thought was that he’d never heard his mother swear like that before.

His third thought, though, was that it made perfect sense.

Ghosts, he knew, didn’t have one set shape, one set composition. Technus went through different versions of himself regularly. Bones were optional for most ghosts. Sometimes they had them, and sometimes they didn’t. Spectra liked turning herself into fire. Frostbite had told him that a ghost’s appearance could change based on their power levels, feelings, desires, and self-perception. Bertrand and Amorpho were outright shapeshifters. Danny himself deformed to dodge attacks.

What was this, if not a way to dodge an attack he’d seen coming for years?

His parents wouldn’t have to cut him open. He’d already done it for them. It hadn’t even hurt.

He wanted to laugh. He couldn’t.

“... is actually the outer envelope of the subject, part of its body. There is no ‘skin’ underneath it, although there are a number of pseudo-bones and pseudo-organs.” Maddie paused to touch one of Danny’s ribs. “While the organs appear remarkably anatomically correct based on cursory observation, the rib analogs detached from the sternum and spread outwards, almost as if presenting the organs to us - which is ridiculous, but still…”

“So, specimen jars?” asked Jack.

“In a moment. We need to document where all of these pseudo-organs are. It probably doesn’t matter, but–”

“Right you are! I’ll get the camera!”

They were going to cut him up anyway, then. Danny wondered how he’d do with missing organs, seeing as being split open from throat to groin wasn’t giving him much trouble.

“You know,” said Jack as he took pictures, “the way these are colored, it reminds me of something.”

“Not human organs,” said Maddie.

“No, no,” said Jack. “Of course not. But– I’ve got it!” He put down the camera and ran up the stairs.

“What is he off to now?” muttered Maddie before going back to speaking into the recorder. “On closer inspection, with other light sources, the surfaces of the organs appear to be matte… perhaps suede? The lungs are inflating - to what purpose? - but the heart does not appear to be beating.”

Jack came thundering back down the stairs, triumphantly holding a… doll? No, was that–?

“Jazz’s anatomical model! D’you remember making this with her, Mads?”

“Oh, fascinating,” said Maddie. “I wonder if the base organism for the ghost was familiar with a similar model. It would explain why it seems to have both male and female internal organs.”

Well, that was sure an embarrassing mistake. Not one Danny could fix right now, or maybe ever, but if he could ever get away, he’d be sure to work on it.

“But,” said Jack, “is it time?”

Maddie smiled, and the overhead light glinted on her goggles. “It’s time. We can start on the pseudo-organs.”

Jack squealed in delight and tossed the model onto a side table. “Let’s do the intestines first, since they’re all spilling out like - Oh.”

Danny closed his eyes as his fathers hands closed around the pink rope of his intestines, bracing for the pain, because there had to be pain at some point. There wasn’t. In fact, it felt sort of… pleasant. Like hands squeezing his shoulders, only… inside.

“What is it?” asked Maddie.

“I don’t think this is actually attached,” said Jack, “and it feels… I dunno, like a stuffed animal.”

Danny opened his eyes in time to see Maddie reach over to feel the organ. “It does,” said Maddie. “Like a plushie.”

“Weird plushie,” said Jack. “But that gives me an idea for a new product! How’d you feel about a Fenton Dissectomatic! For Kids!”

“I’ll put a pin in it,” said Maddie as she helped Jack wind Danny’s intestines around Jack’s arm, as if it was a rope. “Should we examine these in detail now, or later?”

“Later, I think! I want to see what else is in there.”

Maddie nodded, then unscrewed a specimen jar and held it out to Jack so he could drop the intestines in. There was a dilute ectoplasm already inside the jar - to better preserve the samples, he’d heard that lecture a million times - and it felt weird when the organ - when his organ - hit the liquid. Like drinking, but backwards.

“That was the small intestine,” said Maddie. “Large, next?”

“Let’s do the whole abdomen!”

They continued, organ by organ. The large intestine, the liver, the pancreas, his kidneys, his diaphragm. Danny… laid there. Because that was all he could do. The vaguely pleasant sensation persisted, but it was just too intimate for him to fully disconnect with– with everything.

“Weird that his lungs are still working without the diaphragm, isn’t it?” asked Jack, excitedly.

“It does show a fundamental lack of understanding,” agreed Maddie.

And– How? Had Danny forgotten some connection between the diaphragm and the lungs? What did the diaphragm do, anyway? Something about hiccups?

“Should we try the lungs first,” said Maddie, running her hands over the organs, “or the heart?”

“Lungs!” said Jack. “Gotta wonder if that movement is just some kind of mimicry thing, or if it’s functional, somehow.”

“This is all mimicry.”

“Well, yeah, but is it actually taking in air, or is the movement totally ectoplasmic?”

“Good question, Jack. Let’s find out.”

Danny’s lungs slipped free just as easily as all of his other organs. His rib cage, mostly bare, quivered, as if shivering.

Danny did feel cold.

He kept breathing. His lungs kept inflating.

“Last one,” said Maddie, “then, we can start looking at some of that musculature. It–”

An alarm went off. Not anything big, like the Ecto-Exodus alarm, but something small and tinny.

“What’s that?” asked Jack.

“Oh,” said Maddie, “I put on an alarm to do dinner.” She sighed. “I want to finish this but… We are trying to be better about eating as a family.”

“Yeah!” said Jack. “Hey, I’ll help, and it’ll all go super fast! It’s not like the ghost is going anywhere, huh?” He patted the Fantom Freezer fondly. “We can even show the kids, after we eat!”

“I don’t know if they’ll want to right after they eat, Jack, it is a bit gruesome for the layperson…”

Still idly talking, they washed their hands in the sink and went up the stairs. One of them shut off the main lab lights on their way out.

Danny blinked at the ceiling, at the light of the Fenton Freezer, slowly. He was alone in the lab. His suit– his skin was loose.

He really hoped that this wasn’t a permanent change, because this was… disturbing. His still mostly human brain didn’t want to process the sensations it was receiving at all.

But that was fine. He had to put all his focus and the little movement he could accomplish on getting out.

With the minuscule amount of force he was able to bring to bear, he pulled his arm out of his skin bit by bit, slipping naked fingerbones past the cuff of the restraints. The limb flopped out, muscles ropes of green. Just as slow, he reached over to one of the equipment tables and grabbed a tray. With one burst of strength, he swung it overhead, smacking the spotlight of the Fantom Freezer off of him.

Then he laid there, exhausted by his exertions. His parents could come back at any minute, but he just… He had to rest.

He picked up the edge of his suit skin and pulled it out from the restraint before slipping it back on. He was already moving easier. He did the same trick with his other arm, this time trying not to look at his bare muscles, and then had enough range of motion to hit the release button. The rest of the restraints retracted into the table.

Feeling dazed, he reached down and pulled up his zipper.

Then, after a moment’s thought, he pulled it back down, revealing his skin and chest. He touched it. He could feel it rise and fall. He reached down. He could feel his stomach and everything else under his belly.

Then, bracing himself for disaster, he turned human. He didn’t die instantly, so he phased his hand inside his body. It felt exactly the same as it had all the other times he’d done this, looking for things he’d swallowed by mistake or for shrapnel from a fight. It was– Everything was there, from the diaphragm (what did it do, anyway?) to his beating heart.

He looked at the specimen jars lined up all around the lab.

If his organs were still in him, where had all of those things come from? If those were his organs, what was inside him?

He shuddered.

Then, he went ghost. His zipper was already pulled up under his chin, and he could feel the suit slide loosely back and forth against his skin. His fingernails caught slightly against the stitching of his gloves.

He breathed.

Then, he flew up through the ceiling, towards his room. Dinner was going to be soon, after all, and he wanted to be in his room when his parents called him down.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt #prompt work #prompt fill #body horror

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quartz-kilsviken · 1 day ago

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I've been loving Written in the Runes! And then I saw your req. for one shot requests :3

How about JayVik/Baker!Reader and how they ask her to date them? I just feel in my bones it would be great.

Word of Mouth

➸Summary: Every day in your bakery is the same—cozy, filled with the comfort of sweet pastries and familiar faces—until Mrs. Talis, a regular, introduces you to her son, Jayce. What begins as harmless matchmaking soon becomes more complicated as you find yourself drawn to both Jayce and his partner, Viktor.

➸A/N: I work as a baker in a french pâtisserie so this being my first request is insane, I had a ton of fun writing this. Thank you for the idea I hope you like it!! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

➸Pairing: JayVik/Reader

➸Word Count: 2,148

➸Tags: Oneshot, Romace, Fluff, Jayce is so sweet he give me cavities

➸ Slow burn JayVik x reader series: Written in the Runes Link

Word of mouth is the heartbeat of your little shop. Each new customer feels like a gift, walking through the door because someone couldn’t stop talking about your cakes or how your shop feels like stepping into a warm memory. It always makes your heart swell, knowing that something you created meant enough for someone to share it. That’s exactly how your favorite regular had found her way to you months ago. Her presence had quickly become a welcome part of your days—kind, warm, and endlessly sweet, much like the cake you’re carefully packing for her now.

But today’s visit feels different. Her usual chatter has shifted into something... more pointed.

“He works at the academy,” she begins, her voice carrying a little too much enthusiasm. “Very responsible, incredibly smart, and—oh—such a gentleman.”

You pause, tilting your head at her with a knowing look. “I see what you’re doing, Mrs. Talis. Trying to marry me into your family for a discount, huh?”

She lets out a laugh, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Handsome too,” she adds, digging into her purse, “though I admit I’m probably a little biased.”

Just as you’re reaching for the coins she’s pulled out, a photograph suddenly appears on the counter.

You pick it up, your fingers lingering on the edges as you squint at the image. The boy in the photo is all ears and a wide, toothy grin—he looks like he’s about to burst into laughter at any moment. You chew on your words before finally giving her a pointed stare.

“This is a child,” you say flatly.

“It’s a little old, I’ll admit,” she says, her smile unwavering. “But just picture him grown up.”

You try, but the playful face in the photograph refuses to transform into the image of a distinguished adult in your mind. It’s almost endearing how determined she is. With a soft laugh, you slide the photo back to her and scoop up just a few coins, pushing the rest toward her with a gentle nudge.

“How about this? I’ll just give you the discount, Miss Matchmaker,” you say, your voice light with amusement.

Her grin grows, the sparkle in her eyes showing just how much she’s enjoying herself. Despite the absurdity of it all, you can’t help but feel a certain fondness for her persistence.

It’s been about a month since her last visit, and now, with the coolness of autumn settling in, a breeze drifts through the shop every time the door opens. You feel it—the light rush of air—just before the soft chime of the bell rings through the quiet space. You hesitate, not wanting to break the flow of icing a cake, but when you look up, you pause.

A tall man stands just inside the door, slightly hunched, his eyes scanning the display case with an intensity, like he’s looking for something specific but isn’t quite sure what.

You take a breath and move toward him, offering your usual greeting, but the words falter the moment he smiles.

It hits you—this is what those big ears and that endearing gap-toothed smile look like on a grown man. Mrs. Talis hadn’t been the least bit biased—he’s striking, the kind of handsome that makes your heart skip a beat without warning.

“You’re Jayce!” you say, your excitement bubbling through before you can stop it. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and you take the chance to start packing his usual pastry, already knowing what he’ll want. Mrs. Talis never changes his order and besides, you’ve learned to pick out the perfect match for everyone’s tastes. His—a delicate fruit tart—suits him perfectly.

Jayce snaps out of his daze, his voice uncertain. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

You raise an eyebrow, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. “No, but your mother’s mentioned you... once or twice.”

He rubs his hand over his face, the faintest trace of embarrassment creeping into his expression. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Great things actually,” you say with a grin. “How you’re a genius inventor, incredibly successful, a true gentleman... and, of course, ridiculously handsome.” The words come easily, but the sincerity behind them surprises you. His cheeks flush a little, and you can’t help but smile a little wider.

“I knew it,” he mutters, shaking his head lightly. “She’s been talking up a lot of people lately…”

You lean in a little closer, the teasing smile lingering. “So, I’ve got competition, huh? Tell me, where do I rank?”

“Well... I’d say you’re already pretty high, considering you can put up with my mom’s antics. But each pastry you give me might move you up a little more.” His smile is soft, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel something shift inside you—like the warmth of his gaze lingers a little longer than it should, making it hard to look away.

You slide the wrapped pastry toward him, watching the way his face brightens. You can’t deny the little flutter of something in your chest. He didn’t need to tell you what he wanted, and that small moment of connection fills your heart in a way you didn’t expect. But then he adds, “Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something else. I’m trying to figure out what to get my partner, but I honestly have no idea what he’d like.” He walks back over to the display case, continuing his search.

You watch him for a beat, feeling a small tug of curiosity. Partner. Interesting. “Tell me about this partner of yours,” you ask, your tone a little softer than before.

With each visit, Jayce shifted from just another regular customer to someone you genuinely looked forward to seeing. His stories about work, especially when he spoke passionately about his research, never failed to bring a smile to your face. Of course to keep climbing the ranks, you’d often offer him new cakes to try, many of them experimental recipes. He’d give detailed feedback, always thoughtful and constructive which you thoroughly appreciated. There was something warm about him, a presence that seemed to fill the shop, much like the comforting heat of your ovens. And then, there was Viktor. You’d heard enough about him to feel intrigued—the way Jayce’s face softened whenever he spoke his name, the quiet affection in his voice. The more you listened, the clearer it became: they were the perfect pair, a balance of intellect and heart.

On rainy days, when the shop was quiet and the soft pattering of rain against the window filled the space, you’d often lose track of time, swaying slightly to gentle music you play in the background. It was on one of those days that you didn’t notice the door open, too caught up in your own rhythm.

When your gaze finally lifted, you startled, lost your footing, and ended up flat on the floor, a bowl of flour spilling everywhere.

The man standing just inside the door waited patiently. Though he made a point to look at the wall, his small amused smile betrays his attempt to act as though he hadn’t noticed you.

You huff, scrambling to your feet and brushing flour off yourself as you stumble toward him. But when your eyes meet his, you have to stop yourself from tripping again.

Amber. There’s something in his gaze, a dancing light that draws you in. He doesn’t rush you, just waits quietly as you collect yourself.

You realize you’ve been staring and clear your throat, trying to regain some dignity. “Welcome in! How can I help you?”

He smiles softly, his eyes taking in the shop. “I can see why my partner likes to spend time here. It’s a lovely place.”

It’s the word partner that finally clicks, and you realize who he must be. “Did Jayce send you in here just so he could stay out of the rain?” you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “If that’s the case, I’ll give you two cakes for making the journey—and none for him.”

He chuckles, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure any weather could keep him away. He seems quite fond of your pastries—” He hesitates, choosing his words carefully, “—and of you.”

His words hang in the air a little longer than you expect, and you feel a faint warmth spread across your face. But before you can come up with a response, he continues.

“I actually had a question for you.” You watch as his finger taps gently on the handle of his cane, the steady rhythm oddly mesmerizing. You realize, too late, that you’re staring—your thoughts briefly scattered, and you quickly try to pull yourself together. You really need to stop doing that before he notices.

You straighten, leaning a little closer to the counter, giving him your full attention. “What’s up?” Your voice comes out softer than you expected, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care.

And yes, Viktor definitely notices—the way you’re looking at him, your flour-dusted cheek giving you an effortlessly charming air. He can’t help but smile, disarmed by how easily you catch his attention. Quickly clearing his throat, he tries to stay focused. “Do you do delivery?”

You pause for a moment, eyes scanning the room as if deep in thought. “Possibly, but only for my favorite customer.”

“And would Jayce be considered your favorite?” Viktor asks, a little smile playing at the corners of his lip.

“Well, he was…” you say with a teasing glint. “But seeing as you didn’t comment on the fact that I fell on my face earlier, I’d say you’re starting to steal his title.”

—————————————————————

Viktors writing is neat, the directions written clearly show where you need to go but the halls of the Academy seem to be a labyrinth. The multiple boxes of pastry making the journey harder, almost missing the door to their lab.

Balancing the boxes, you knock softly on the door, hearing shuffling from inside. Moments later, it opens to reveal a familiar face, clearly surprised to see you. You can’t help but think you should deliver more often if it means seeing him again, bathed in the soft light of the academy. The lab’s warm hues highlight his features beautifully, and you’re grateful for the stack of boxes that hides your definitely-flushed cheeks. Your name slips out before a distant voice calls, “Don’t be rude, Jayce—let her in.”

Jayce thankfully unloads a few boxes, giving you a chance to take in the two men. Their attire is oddly formal for a night spent working in the lab. “What are you doing here? I mean— not that you’re not welcome. I actually planned on inviting you to our lab, but—” Viktor cuts him off with a gentle pat on Jayce's arm.

“I asked her, I thought it would be nice to indulge in a few pastries before the party. She kindly delivered for me, seeing as I am now her favorite customer.” You have to fight back laughing at the exchange, but especially how Jayce seems to be silently yelling at Viktor with his eyes.

“These are a lot of two people, especially since we’re supposed to leave in 10 minutes.” Viktor is practically glowing, his playful eyes meeting yours.

With a shake of his head, he skillfully morphs his expression into one of disappointment, “Ah— you’re right Jayce, how foolish of me, I supposed I should’ve planned this surprise better.” He locks eyes with you “Though, maybe it can be remedied… would you like to join us? We are just attending a fundraising party, I’m sure bringing your lovely pastries would be welcomed.”

You see exactly what he’s doing now, you can’t help but bite back a smart response “My pastries being there don’t require my attendance as well, Viktor, I don’t want to intrude.”

Jayce finally softens at that, with a shy smile “You wouldn’t be intruding, you’re always welcome.”

Viktor continues “Besides, it would be a great opportunity to get eyes on your business. We would certainly like some of the attention to be on someone else for a night.”

Between Jayce’s soft, hopeful eyes and Viktor’s playful gaze, you can’t help but accept. As Jayce steps out to retrieve something, you glance sideways at Viktor and murmur, “You’re worse than his mother.” A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips.

Viktor’s smile shifts into something knowing. “Ah, yes. She and I do have quite a bit in common.” You laugh, and when you glance up, you notice that his usual confidence has softened, just slightly. As he steps closer, there’s a brief hesitation in his eyes before he speaks, his tone light but carrying an edge. “While her intentions were all about him, I’ll admit at some point mine might’ve turned a bit more self-serving.”

#arcane jayce #viktor arcane #jayce x reader #jayvik x reader #viktor x reader #viktor/reader #viktor/jayce #jayce x viktor #viktor x you #jayce/viktor #jayce talis #oneshot #jayvik #JayVik/reader

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herofics · 2 days ago

Text

No Longer Mine, part 3

A/N: I finally got around to writing more of this. The first part can be found here and the second part here. This was written in a very tired state, so it might be a bit all over the place, but I think it's okay

Word count: 2.3k

Contrary to what he’d hoped, Gojo couldn’t fall asleep after he felt the migraine coming in while fighting with Ava. He loved her and his conscience wouldn’t let him sleep after being such an asshole. He had heard the front door slam shut quite loudly, after Ava had stormed off. She must have left the house, and Gojo was going to go after her, he had to. He couldn’t just leave things like this.

You had gotten back home with Nanami a while ago, but he had gotten called away on a short mission almost immediately after your arrival. Maybe that was for the best, you could use some alone time to sort out your thoughts about what had happened earlier. You weren’t really sure what you were feeling. You were angry at Gojo for his jealousy or whatever the hell he had displayed when he saw you and Nanami holding hands. He didn’t have any right to be possessive or jealous over you anymore. At least you were finally able to put a face to the name when it came to Ava. You couldn’t really put your finger on it, but you got an odd vibe from her. She seemed very shocked when she saw you and especially when she heard your name, and you took note of the brief death glare she gave Gojo. Could it be that Gojo hadn’t told her about your return? It had been six months, surely he would have told his fiancée, right?

The hours passed, but you just couldn’t get it out of your mind. Why wouldn’t Gojo have told her? You were just making yourself a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. You couldn’t think of who it could be, so you checked the peephole.

“Ava?” you muttered quietly to yourself. What could she possibly be doing behind your door?

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and opened the door.

“Hello” you greeted her politely.

“Hi. We met briefly earlier today. I’m Ava, Satoru’s fiancée”

“I’m sorry I didn’t really introduce myself earlier, I’m (Full Name). It’s nice to meet you” you bowed a little bit.

“Would you mind if I came in? There’s something I’d like to talk about with you” she asked.

“Sure, come in”

There was something odd about her, but you decided to be polite and invite her inside. She didn’t seem threatening or jealous or anything of the sort, she just seemed very intent on talking with you about something. The two of you sat down by the kitchen table and you offered to make her tea, which she accepted.

“So, what did you want to talk with me about?” you asked.

“I’m going to get straight to the point. Stay away from my Satoru” she said very matter of factly.

“Excuse me?” you asked, blinking a few times in disbelief at her forwardness as you set the tea cups on the table and turned to grab the sugar from the cupboard.

“Seeing you is obviously painful for him. You probably don’t know this, but when you disappeared, it almost killed him. When I met him, he was in a bad way. He was a shell compared to what he was with you. I’m sure you don’t want to hurt him, so I would like you to stay away from him” she announced.

You took a sip of your tea, noticing it tasted a bit off, but not paying much mind to it. You were much more interested in this woman’s demand.

“And if I don’t?” you asked, not really in a challenging tone, but more out of sheer curiosity.

“I’ll make sure that this time, you stay gone” she hissed.

“What does that mean? Do you have something to do with what happened to me?” you asked, but as you looked at her, you noticed your vision was going a bit blurry.

You could feel yourself losing consciousness. She must have put something in your tea when you had your back turned. You wouldn’t just pass out for no reason. You stood up, attempting to get away from her, but you fell to the floor, hitting your head on the corner of the table on the way down. As the blood started to slowly flow down your face, your vision went black and you lost consciousness.

Gojo couldn’t find Ava anywhere. He had already checked the whole estate and all the places she liked to go nearby, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?” he muttered to himself as he marched towards Nanami’s place.

Gojo didn’t even know why he was going there. Ava could be confrontational sometimes, but surely she wouldn’t have gone to see you after what happened earlier?

“Who am I kidding, she would totally do that” Gojo groaned.

He couldn’t be sure you were at Nanami’s of course, but from what he’d seen earlier, he thought there was a high likelihood that he would find you there. Ava would probably have figured out the same thing. He hadn’t really thought about it, but where had you been staying after you got out of the hospital? Had you been with Nanami the whole time? Why was he even thinking about that, you had made it very clear that what you did was none of his business anymore.

When he got to Nanami’s house, he could see that the curtains were drawn, but there was clearly someone inside, he could see a shadow moving on the other side of the curtains. Since it seemed to be just one person, he figured it was probably you and Ava wasn’t there. Then he noticed it, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized right away, but there was a very faint trace of a familiar cursed energy lingering around. Ava’s cursed energy. It was well suppressed, but Gojo had sharp senses, so he noticed it anyway.

“I’m going to make sure you won’t come back this time. I’m supposed to be his spouse, not you. You don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve him…” Ava kept repeating.

She had long admired Gojo from afar, and wanted to be with him, but you were always in the way. The only way to make him notice her, was to get rid of you, so that’s what she did. She came from a rich family, and finding a curse user to kill you wasn’t a problem either. As it turned out, that curse user didn’t get rid of you like she had instructed him to, but he apparently kept you. Who knows for what reason, but whatever it was, it allowed you to eventually escape with your life.

When Ava eventually approached Gojo after she determined he had hit rock bottom, he didn’t even know who she was. Sure, she had gone to the Kyoto school while Gojo attended the Tokyo one, but they had crossed paths before. Of course he had always been with you even back then. It was like he didn’t even see anyone but you, certainly not her. Over the years, her obsession grew, and eventually she took action to get rid of you, and to get close to Gojo. It all went just like she had planned, until today. Or apparently, until six months ago, since that was when you had actually managed to escape, and her dear fiancé just hadn’t told her about your return.

Gojo hesitated for a moment, before ringing the doorbell. The shuffling and sounds of movement inside the house immediately seized.

“Hey (Name), I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I just want to talk to Ava. I know she’s there” Gojo announced.

Ava had frozen the moment the doorbell rang. She could sense Gojo’s cursed energy before he even spoke. She knew what she was going to do, she would make it look like you had attacked her in a jealous rage, and that she had had to kill you. Surely that would work. You were the jealous ex of his fiancé, who had gone into a fit of rage and attacked her. The atrocities you had no doubt suffered during your missing time could also be used to explain a sudden violent outburst. No one would question it, not since it came from her. She would just have to make it convincing, to hurt herself enough to warrant such a drastic measure as to end your life. Could she manage it? In the few seconds it took for Gojo to realize that something was wrong? No, she had to talk him into going away.

Ava took a deep breath and walked to the front door, opening it a bit, plastering her signature smile on her face. He had no reason to go inside, she could just talk him into leaving. The mixture she had used should keep you unconscious for at least an hour, so she was in no hurry.

“Hi darling. You wanted to talk to me?” she asked.

“I take it (Last Name) doesn’t want to see me?”

“No, they don’t, I’m sorry. We were just talking, so could this wait? I’ll be home in a bit and we can talk about it then” she suggested.

“Yeah, sure…” Gojo said, turning to leave.

As he took a few steps away from the house, something stopped him. Something was telling him he couldn’t leave, that if he did, something terrible would happen. He trusted his instincts, they had saved him so many times, and this feeling wasn’t something he could just ignore.

“I need to talk to (Name)” he said without thinking.

Gojo could have sworn that the mention of your name caused something to flash in Ava’s eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“Like I said, they don’t want to talk to you, and you can’t just barge into someone else’s home without permission” Ava tried to argue.

“It’s not your home either” Gojo said, as he took a step towards the door.

Ava slammed the door shut and dashed in your direction. She could still make this work, she just had to be fast enough. She raised her hand, readying herself to release her cursed technique upon you.

Gojo hesitated for just a moment. Maybe you really didn’t want to talk to him, but this was going way beyond suspicious. His doubts were confirmed as he felt Ava’s cursed energy grow stronger, as if she was using her technique. He didn’t care about the door, he could just pay Nanami for a new one, so he wrenched it open in one swift motion and ran towards the source of the cursed energy. He had, somewhere in the back of his mind, registered that your cursed energy hadn’t changed for a second during this whole time. Why was Ava using her technique? She must have perceived you as a threat for some reason, but for the life of him Gojo couldn’t figure out why that would be.

As he turned the corner to the kitchen, he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were laying on the floor, your forehead bleeding, and Ava’s blades were just centimeters from piercing your back. The shock caused by the situation in front of him made him slow down for just a fraction of a second, but that was enough for Ava’s blades to reach you. As Gojo knocked her out, her technique disappeared, but the damage was already done. He could see your shirt getting stained with blood. Not again, he was not going to lose you again.

He threw the unconscious Ava over his shoulder and grabbed you to carry you with his other arm. He took you to Shoko and threw Ava into the detention room that was used to house curse users waiting for execution, before returning to the infirmary. Gojo didn’t want to look at his fiancée. He had just left her there, he wasn’t sure if he even cared what happened to her. He just sat outside the room where Shoko was treating you, hanging his head.

"”The strongest” my ass” he muttered bitterly.

How did he not notice what Ava really was? Had she had something to do with your disappearance in the first place? He shouldn’t have given up on you, but now he was losing you all over again. Were you going to die? He wasn’t sure he could handle it a second time. Finding out his fiancée was a complete lie wasn’t easy either, but all he could think about was you. He didn’t want to give Ava another thought, it was all too painful. He had lost another person he loved, and he never really knew her at all.

Gojo sat there in silence for god knows how long, before he heard someone marching down the corridor towards him.

“Where are they?” a familiar voice asked, clearly holding back a lot of anger.

Gojo just motioned towards the door next to him. He couldn’t look at Nanami. He didn’t want to see the expression on his face.

Nanami had just gotten the call from Shoko, as he had gotten back from his mission. You were in the infirmary, and she had just finished her treatment. She couldn’t really give him many details about what had happened to you, since she only knew the broad strokes of the situation, but he knew enough. It wasn’t his call, but he didn’t want Gojo anywhere near you, he only seemed to bring misery into your life nowadays. Nanami knew you’d loved him in the past, and that in some way, you probably still did, but he wasn’t good for you. Everyone around him got hurt.

“Stay away from them, Gojo. They deserve to be happy, even if that isn’t with you anymore” Nanami sighed tiredly, before closing the door behind him as he entered the infirmary.

Gojo knew Nanami was right, all he seemed to bring to you was misery. If you hadn’t been involved with him, you wouldn’t have lost four years of your life. If it wasn’t for your relationship with him, you wouldn’t be hurt right now. If you’d only never met him, your life would have been different.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #nanami kento #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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mrspiastri · 2 days ago

Text

mehendi lagake rakhna!

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

genre: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol

wc: 1.8k

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

“Oscar, don’t tell me you haven’t practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!” Y/N’s cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.

“I didn’t think it’d be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,” he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip

“Baby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?” he huffed as he sat next to her.

“I told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.”

The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/N’s palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.

“How does it look? Nice, na?” she asked while admiring her own hands.

Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a game for you! Your name’s written on my palm—it’s designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!” She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.

“Really? Well, it should be rather easy. My name’s not very long.”

She winked at him. “That’s what you think. Just you wait!”

“He has another thing to worry about, Y/N!” her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscar’s back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a “Amma, don’t tease him!”

“Why do I need to worry about that?” he asked as the women laughed.

“Well, there’s this old saying: the darker a woman’s mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope it’s dark, or else…” Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.

“But we aren’t married, darling. How’s that fair?”

Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. “You two are basically married. The specifics don’t matter.”

He let out a groan of faux annoyance. “You find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.

“You can only find it after it’s dried. Now go and practice your steps—you’re in the first line with me during Kajra Re.”

“What’s that now?”

“Just go and practice, you idiot.” She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.

🪷🪷🪷

“There we go, nice and easy. Now let’s get the next one.”

Y/N’s brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.

After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, “Mate, you need to help me lift this. It won’t budge.”

But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/N’s voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.

“You better go. She doesn’t like to wait,” her brother said, chuckling.

“Don’t I know it? Coming, babe!”

“There you are. Look, I need your help. The bride’s uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if they’re on their way.”

“Okay, so do it,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

She rolled her eyes. “Osc, I’ve got to let the mehendi dry—I can’t really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.”

She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didn’t smudge her henna.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.

It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.

He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/N’s eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadn’t really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.

It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.

“Oscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.”

Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.

Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.

He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“Thanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.”

🪷🪷🪷

It’s the evening of the sangeet, and Oscar’s long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.

The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.

He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final one—and the most important—Kajra Re.

The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.

The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, “You’re going to kill it, hon. Trust me.”

“What if I don’t?” he whispered back.

“Well, then I’ll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.”

“That’s difficult to believe—you’re a good dancer,” he quipped.

“Leave it to me. I’ll fumble so bad we’ll have to hide out in our hotel room.”

They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.

It turned out Y/N’s relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didn’t seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.

The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.

She mouthed, “Told you!” a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.

🪷🪷🪷

“That was some performance, you two!” Y/N’s dad complimented the couple as they ate—or rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.

It turns out being a bridesmaid doesn’t just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the bride’s life easier. She’d been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.

“You’ve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,” he said firmly.

“I’m too busy to eat, Osc. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrow’s haldi ceremony,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

And that’s how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.

“Well, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,” Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.

“Y/N, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?” her father asked, using the affectionate tone he always used for his daughter.

“I’m too tired to eat, Appa. He’s forcing me to,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.

“Well, at least we know you’re in good hands. Isn’t she?” her father said, nudging his wife.

“Oh yes, the very best. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kanna,” her mother added, making the entire table laugh.

Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, “What did she call me now?”

Y/N smiled and replied, “She called you kanna. It’s like a term of endearment. She doesn’t even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.”

Oscar’s face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.

🪷🪷🪷

“By the way, I found my name,” Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.

“Did you now? Where is it, then?” she challenged, her brow raised playfully.

He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger, where a small but clearly visible “Oscar” was designed into her mehendi.

“You’re good at this,” she said, impressed. “I asked her to make it super hard to find.”

They both laughed, and then he added, “I’ve got something for you to see, although mine isn’t as difficult to spot.”

He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/N’s name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.

She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.

“You’re so adorable. I can’t believe you got this done—I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.”

“Is that so?” she teased, grinning.

“Why yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? I’ve been craving it since last night.”

She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.

🪷🪷🪷

this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if you’d like me to continue with this. xoxo 🩷 (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x desi!reader #oscar piastri x south indian!reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 x desi!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #op81 #op81 fluff

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carnallysm · 1 day ago

Text

I want you with me.

Dom! JJ x Sub! Fem! Reader.

themes: praise kink, mirror sex, strap-on use (r! receiving), a bit of rough sex. lmk if i forgot anything!

summary: Jennifer arrives at home clearly shaken by something, some case at hand, and you'd do anything that could help her clear her mind.

no proofread we die like Gideon.

You could tell alone by how thunderous the door was closed that your girlfriend had a bad case in her hands. And you knew better than to ask.

Jennifer would tell you about it at the right time—right when she needs to, not when she still has so much in mind—therefore, the only idea that showed in your mind was to go and be as comforting as possible to JJ.

"Hi," You spoke softly, a direct contrast to how the air seemed thick around JJ, clearly upset about something. Then again, there wasn't anything much you could do with the lack of information you had, and you were quite sure Jennifer wasn't about to be the most open one.

It was a problem of hers, really, how more often than not she wouldn't let herself be, be vulnerable and open and truthful. You thought JJ needed more of that, to trust more, but it was a tough path.

"I need to go in thirty," She replied with an obviously exhausted sigh, all the while she went to your shared bedroom to grab what she needed for her go bag.

"To another state?" You questioned, without reprimand in your tone, but mere curiosity to know when you could expect your girlfriend to come back.

"No, this one..." Jennifer stopped for a couple of seconds, in which silence had fell in once again thick with unspoken words on her part. "This one is here. I just will be staying with the team."

A small crack in JJ's voice you were able to hear when she finished her sentence, and then you could tell something was undoubtedly wrong.

"What's with the case?" You asked with prudence, sounding still as soft as before, yet with concern in your tone.

However, despite how worried you were, JJ stayed silent for longer than just a few seconds. Without a word, she started gathering some clothes from the closet, not even sending you a look that could apport something to you. Her expression was as neutral as it possibly could be, and you were no profiler to tell her micro expressions.

"JJ?" You called for her name in a barely audible whisper, only able to be heard thanks to the otherwise silent house. As you said her name, you took some steps forward to her.

"I don't want to talk about it," Was her response—firm, unwavering—and still, you could sense the fear lingering underneath. "Please." Her last word was spoken with a pleading, cracking voice yet again.

"Okay..." You agreed, because of course you did. You didn't want to make JJ suffer by speaking about something she wasn't ready for, but that didn't meant you were ready to let go of the subject fully. It scared you, whenever Jennifer herself was scared, and specially if the reason was unknown to you.

"I'm sorry." Jennifer suddenly speaks, leaving all her clothes sparred inside her go to bag. "It's just... It's too much."

How weak JJ sounded was worrying, if you were to be honest. But what mattered to you the most in the moment was to help your girlfriend in whichever way you could.

So, you approached JJ and reached to cup her face, making her look directly at you. There was fear written all over her features, and all you wanted to do was to take it away.

"It's fine." Was your simple response, but enough to make your point come across: I understand you, I don't judge you, I'm here for you. Everything you wanted to tell JJ was in the way you tenderly caressed her cheek with your thumb, with how you leaned to plant a chaste kiss to her lips.

But what was a soft kiss, soon turned into one full of need on JJ's part. Her hands landed on your waist, holding and pressing you against her with all her strength, so that it almost hurt, as she kissed you with pure, untamed need.

Her tongue darted out to lick your lower lip, before Jennifer grabbed said lip of yours between her teeth, biting down on it with just enough force to draw a hint of blood from it. The taste of the kiss turned slightly metallic and bloody, and suddenly you felt yourself spinning around and falling to the comfortable texture of the king sized bed.

You kissed JJ back, even with confusion revolting in the back of your mind. The fact that something was happening in JJ's work that she didn't want to talk about was inevitably concerning, but you did your best to wash it aside as the kiss grew more fervent.

JJ's hands went from your waist to underneath your shirt in a question of instants once you were laying in bed, her on top of you.

"JJ, what—" Before you could finish your sentence, Jennifer bit down your lip another time, eliciting a shaky whimper from you and a tiny drop of blood to flow down your chin.

"Please," Pleading, once again, though this time with all need, fear and want heard on JJ's tone. "Let me have you before I go."

And you couldn't say no, not to Jennifer. Despite the strange of the situation, you wanted her just as bad, each and every time. That's exactly why you let yourself forget, at least while JJ touch is on you, about her fear and your own, and simply feel.

The kiss had long turned messy and sloppy, the faint taste of blood still there, as JJ's hands found your breasts from above your bra, circling your already hard nipples through it.

"I love you," JJ said right after breaking the kiss, then licking and biting down the skin of your neck—not roughly enough to hurt, but enough to draw a few more whimpers from you. "God, I love you so much."

All you could say in return was a shaky moan of her name, reaching your hands up to wrap around JJ's neck and pull her closer to you.

Her words were laced in raw neediness, and you couldn't hide just how much that affected you, your panties starting to get slightly wet due to your pussy dripping for JJ alone.

"I want you with me," Jennifer stated before leaning back in to give your neck another, harder bite. "Always." And again, all you could do was try to catch your breath as her name instinctively escaped your lips in a louder moan.

JJ's hands went from your breasts to your hips and back, pulling you up so you were sitting in bed now. Before you could express your confusion, she spoke.

"Look up, darling." And so you did, as you'd do almost anything JJ asked of you. There, you found the mirror of the room reflecting the scene at hand, with Jennifer behind you and holding you up.

"I want you to keep looking at the mirror." She ordered rather than requested, and a deeper tint of red soon covered your cheeks at that, as you nodded either way.

"No, darling, I want words." JJ affirmed while displaying a quite harsh slap to your clothed and soaked pussy. "C'mon, don't make me wait."

"S-Sorry," You managed to speak between ragged breathing, doing your best to not get too lost in the embarrassment of the reflection or the pleasure of JJ's touch. "I'll keep looking."

"That's it, good girl." JJ praised before planting a small kiss to your reddened cheeks, her right hand wandering down slowly until reaching your pants, quickly undoing them and pulling them down alongside your drenched panties.

"Is this all for me?" JJ questioned while pushing two fingers through your slick folds, gathering your wetness with them as she then circled your puffy clit with torturous slowness.

Unable to speak due to the sensations coursing through your entire body, you didn't even realize you closed your eyes, desperately trying to hold onto something.

But before you could, one more slap was provided to your sensitive cunt, harder than the first one, which made you open your eyes in pain and pleasure at the same time.

"I said, use your words." JJ said firmly, this time moving her fingers to circle your clit more vigorously.

"I-Is all for you!" You exclaimed shakily, your words somewhat slurred as the pleasure took over you in a matter of seconds. "Just you, JJ!"

"Good," You heard her words directly spoken to your ear from behind, as she pinched your clit before coming to your entrance, putting them in at a leisurely pace. "Remember, you must look at the mirror. Else I'll stop."

"Y-Yes," As you said so, you lifted your own gaze to stay looking at the mirror, the sight of it making you further aroused and ashamed all at once.

Jennifer was behind you, her left hand still holding your hips so hard it might leave a bruise, while her other hand disappeared between your legs, pumping two of her fingers in and out of your cunt. You looked disheveled, and so did JJ, although less than you did.

It was the sight of Jennifer loving you, her toned arms showing as she kept her touch on you, her praises when you did as she told you—everything just added to your pleasure.

"That's my good girl," JJ praised again, her breath hitting your ear from the very moment she speaks, making you shiver in her arms. "You're doing so well, darling."

You thought you could cum from those words alone, and you weren't far from it, as JJ added a third finger inside your welcoming pussy.

"I'm... I'm gonna cum, JJ," You warned, closing your eyes tightly from the immense satisfaction you were experimenting, once again forgetting JJ's order.

Suddenly, her fingers came to a stop inside you, and you heard an exaggerated sigh coming from Jennifer's lips.

"What did I tell you, love?" As Jennifer spoke, she slowly moved her fingers out of your needy pussy, making a whine come from you. "Uh-uh, you don't get to complain."

JJ reached now both her hands to your hips, as she pulled you down to lay back on the bed again.

"Now, stay with your eyes closed," Jennifer commanded once more, and you immediately obeyed, only able to hear the shuffling of JJ moving in bed towards the drawers of the night side table. "You can at least do that, right? For me."

After what seemed like an eternity, you felt JJ's warm touch on you again; her hands going to wrap around your thighs, pulling them up as you gasped, your breath still as ragged as it was before.

JJ put your legs around her waist, and you instantly felt the silicone texture of what could only be the strap-on JJ liked to use on you so bad.

"Be a good girl and take it all in," And yet again, before you could say anything, Jennifer implanted the strap right into your oversensitive cunt. "Then you can cum."

She was rapid to set a quick speed to her thrusts, pulling in and out of you with ease due to how wet you were, every inch of the strap hitting all the right velvety spots inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin was lewd, and with your eyes closed, the sensation was magnified.

At JJ's speed, you were fast to feel that familiar coil settling in your abdomen, and you knew you were way too close to be able to warn JJ.

As Jennifer kept her punishing thrusting inside you, a guttural moan left from your lips as you came, but JJ didn't stop. Instead, she started to go to an even more swift pace than before, pushing the strap to the hilt into your responsive pussy.

"JJ!" You were only able to moan her name, lost in the pleasure she was offering you, her grip on your thighs tightening as you heard her breathing becoming shallow as well.

"One more, love," JJ spoke in between panting. "You're doing so well, taking me so well."

Her praise was enough to send you over the edge for the second time, a crushing orgasm taking over you as you held onto the sheets with all your strength, your eyes closed tightly as you got completely and utterly lost in haze.

After what felt like hours but were mere minutes, your breathing started to get steadier, a last, soft whimper escaping from your lips once JJ pulled the strap out of you and herself, leaving it away somewhere in the bed.

"You did the best, darling," She praised while reaching her hand up to caress your cheek, then moving to hold you in her arms.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, silence taking over, but this time it was a comfortable one as Jennifer gently caressed your hair while her other hand wrapped around your waist.

"Was I too rough?" She suddenly asked, looking down at you with a hint of concern and fear back in her expression.

"No, not at all." You were quick to reassure her, shaking your head slightly for a moment, nuzzling closer to JJ's touch.

"They..." JJ began, but trailed off for a bit before swallowing down and taking in a deep breath. "They all look like you. The victims."

And now that Jennifer finally opened up, you finally understood why she appeared so fearful when coming home, why her attitude was the way it was.

"But they're not me." You reassured, leaning to press a comforting kiss to JJ's lips.

"You promise to stay safe until I come back?"

"I promise."

#criminal minds fandom #jennifer jareau #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #jennifer jareau smut #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau headcanons #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut

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