#i keep thinking he would not fucking say that. as i work my way back thru the series

[koalayoo]

Men who talk a certain way.

They carry themselves with elegance, talk with a poised cadence unique to them. They hold themselves upright and have an air of superiority. A cunning look, signature smirk, firm hand; these are staples of their character, they know how to strike a deal. Whether for their people or their own gain, they intimidate those to gain an advantage no matter how many exploits gone through or people exploited.

People either love or fear them.

They’re important.

It’s no surprise that they sit at the centre of the table at a meeting, commanding attention. All eyes are on them, gripping their every word. Prompt nods and murmurs of agreements follow. They’re smart too. Incredible wit and perceptiveness as they continuously glance at everyone, especially you.

Fuck, and they’re hot too.

It makes your blood run hot. Jolts shoot throughout your body and you avert your gaze. It was stupid to you to be losing your cool for a man who felt indifferent about your existence. Maybe that isn’t the right word. 

Sometimes, you would question whether he hated you. Whenever you needed a pen, your hands brushed against one another for a second and he would quickly pull back as if being stung by a bee with a slight scowl forming on his face. If the piles of paper you needed to finish took too long, he would be adamant you finish for the night, which is all fine and dandy if he wasn’t looking for help from others to complete your work. He even reprimanded you, talked to you in that familiar stern tone once for not having your priorities in place when a stranger came up to you in a flirtatious manner as if you could control that. 

He pissed you off. 

Why couldn’t he care about you like a normal person?

However, you were wrong about all of it. He cared too much.

When your fingers grazed him he was ridden with guilt, these were the same hands he would think about at night. Imagine tracing the sharp edges of his skin. He would shut his eyes and throw his head back, replacing his hands with your own. Try to commit the soft feel of yours to his. Would you go slow or fast? He wondered. How would you hold him? Would you let him make a mess? His thoughts would trail on and on questioning your grip, your face, what you would say.

So, it was no surprise when he saw you working yourself to exhaustion that he wanted you to rest. That was his duty after all. Only he could do that. The eyes that he desperately wanted to see glazed over with a lust filled haze needed to be well rested first. That way, he could slowly see them become drunk for him, turning red, bloodshot from just how well he would treat you.

And it was especially no surprise that when another person had the audacity to want you too, he had to stop them. Sure, you didn’t deserve the scolding but he would make you feel so much better later on. He just had to be patient.

Had to keep his tone steady and tame. Pretend to treat you just like everyone else. Even if you thought he hated you. He could fuck you like that too if you wanted. He would give you anything you wanted. However, you didn’t deserve to know how depraved he truly was.

There was a thought that lingered at the forefront of his mind. If you found out just how he imagined you, would you leave? He figured you might feel disgusted, a man of his caliber, his power, wanting to succumb to you. And so he continued to talk. Continued to keep his tone steady. Keep his tone tame. 

He would keep himself in line; refined. Because if you found out how he was imagining you, perhaps then this man would truly feel fear.

fantasising about...

Sylus, NEUVILLETTE, Jing Yuan, Welt, Sunday, DAN HENG, Artem, Zhongli!, Gepard, Alhaitham?, Cyno ...and anyone else you're thinking of

Hope you liked this! Inspired by the song 'Talk' by Hozier. Specifically the line, "So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you." Please give it a listen! It was in my Spotify Top 5 it's so good and captures the vibe I was trying to go for with this. Sorry for the yap. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[yuujispinkhair]

CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Minors don't interact. Mentions of cigarettes. This drabble is part of my Cowboy!Sukuna series, but you don't need to know the main story to read it. Divider by @/issysh3ll

In the past, Cowboy!Sukuna never joined the annual Christmas tractor parade that all the other farmers and cowboys around your small town participate in. Sukuna thought it was stupid and cheesy, and after all, he had his reputation as the lonesome, bad boy cowboy who was more likely to be the Grinch than Santa!

But that was until you found your way into Sukuna's heart. You moved into his ranch and brought Christmas with you. And now you stand before him with that fucking cute pout on your pretty face and practically beg him,

"Kunaaaa, please you should join! Just think of how happy it makes the little kids to see all the decorated tractors!"

Sukuna huffs at first, while hugging you to his tall body, craving your warmth after he just came back from fixing the fences in those freezing temperatures,

"I don't care about those random kids."

"But you care about me, and I know you want to make me happy, right? And it would make me very happy to join that Christmas parade with you, baby."

Fuck, how could he say no to you when you give him those puppy dog eyes and that sweet smile? Sukuna laughs, grabbing your chin with one hand, and he leans down to bring his face closer to yours, grinning as he whispers against your lips,

"You are not fighting fair, baby."

His lips claim yours in a slow, teasing kiss before Sukuna pulls away again. He cocks his head and tips his cowboy hat,

"Alright, I'll drive to town and run some Christmas errands for you, ma'am."

And you laugh and blow him a kiss, telling him to drive safe just like you always do, always so sweet to him. Always worried about him, wrapping him in your love. Sukuna is already walking towards his truck, lighting a cigarette, when you open the kitchen window to yell after him that you'll cook his favorite dinner while he is away and some Christmas cookies, too. Sukuna wonders if his cheeks hurt from the icy wind blowing in his face or from how much he is smiling.

He drives to the small hardware store you used to work in before you moved into Sukuna's ranch, and he returns to you a few hours later carrying several boxes of fairy lights and LED decorations in various shapes and forms.

You laugh that sweet laugh Sukuna loves so much when you see him,

"Oh my god, Sukuna! I didn't think you'd buy the whole Christmas section!"

"Well, my girl said she wants to participate in the Christmas parade, so I will make damn sure I have the best fucking Christmas tractor there is!"

The left corner of Sukuna's lips twitches, and a second later, he breaks out into laughter, too. He lets the Christmas lights drop to the kitchen floor when you fling yourself at him, and Sukuna wraps a tattooed arm tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, smiling when you get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Sukuna keeps his word, just like he always does when it comes to you. He spends hours in the barn decorating his old John Deere, wrapping it in fairy lights, and fixing the blinking Santa and reindeer figures to the roof.

Sukuna thinks it looks absolutely horrendous. A big blinking Christmas monstrosity. But then you walk into the barn and gasp and stare at the all-decked-out tractor. Your eyes shine even brighter than the crazy number of fairy lights that Sukuna just attached to his old John Deere. And he thinks to himself that it was all worth it.

Sukuna climbs into the tractor, extending a hand to you, which you take, and he pulls you up and into his lap. You are surrounded by hundreds of blinking fairy lights that cast the inside of the tractor into a colorful, festive light.

Sukuna's arms wrap around you as he presses play on his phone, which is connected to the tractor's radio. The Christmas playlist you shared with him starts playing, filling the inside of the tractor with your favorite Christmas songs.

"Is this what you had in mind, sweetheart?"

Sukuna asks, his smile clearly audible in his low voice. And you turn around so you're straddling Sukuna's lap and look at him, reaching out to cup his tattooed face with your small hands, beaming at him happily,

"Yes, this is even more than I had in mind! It's perfect! Thank you so much! Merry Christmas, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too. Merry Christmas, princess... but there's one more thing."

Sukuna points up at the little mistletoe that he glued to the ceiling earlier and that's dangling above your heads now. You chuckle while Sukuna grins his most charming boyish grin at you, waiting for you to kiss it off his lips with a sweet, long Christmas kiss.

And for the first time in his adult life Sukuna thinks that Christmas is truly magical.

SIGHHHHHHH oh how I missed Cowboy!Sukuna 💗💗 I went to a tractor parade, and of course, all I could think about was Cowboy!Sukuna, so I HAD to write this cute little drabble!! I hope it made you happy, too.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all my fellow Sukuna lovers 💗

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dustin moved to the window by Steve’s front door and pressed his face to it.

"Robin. . .why is Steve talking to Santa?" Dustin asked and turned to look at her.

"Oh, he knows him very personally. He called him over for you guys," Robin said.

"Steve knows Santa?!" Dustin shrieked. "He never said!"

"Okay, do you still bel - ," Robin started to say.

"WHY IS STEVE KISSING SANTA?!" Dustin yelled, his face pressed to the glass.

"Oh, well, Steve’s been a very bad boy this year, and he's trying to work his way back onto the nice list," she replied.

"BY SEDUCING SANTA?!" Dustin yelled. "That's not how you do it!"

Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, and El entered the hallway.

"What's going on?" Max asked.

"Steve knows Santa! He called him over, and now he's cheating on Steve with him!" Dustin yelled.

"What? Is he trying to get on the nice list or naughty list?" Mike asked.

"Fuck this," Max swore.

They all spilled out onto the front lawn with Robin following after them.

"You guys do know that Santa isn't - "

"STEVE!" Dustin yelled.

"Oh, goddamn it," Steve cursed as he pulled away from Santa. "I've ruined - "

"Are you cheating on Eddie?!" Dustin yelled, his hands on his hips. "You're my brother, and I love you, but if you ruin this relationship with Eddie, I'll never forgive you!"

"That's sweet, Henderson, but completely unnecessary," Santa said and pulled his beard down to reveal Eddie. "Surprise!"

"Oh my god!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dustin, it's an easy mistake to make!" Eddie said cheerfully.

"Why didn't you tell us?!" He asked.

"Uh, well, Steve wanted to keep it a surprise, and I thought you were old enough to know," Eddie said.

"It makes sense now, Eddie wasn't here last Christmas!" Mike exclaimed.

"And it makes sense why his wounds healed so quickly," Lucas said.

"And why he can drive so fast," El said.

"And why he is so good with animals," Max said.

"And kids," Dustin said.

"He's great with kids and storytelling!" Will exclaimed.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know," Steve frowned.

"He loves elves and Lord of the Rings!" Lucas exclaimed.

"Oh my god! Eddie's Santa Claus!" Dustin yelled.

"I have to call Nancy!" Mike yelled.

"We have to call the rest of the party!" Dustin yelled.

Robin, Steve, and Eddie watched dumbfounded as the kids ran back inside.

"Do they still believe in Santa?" Eddie asked.

"This is the first time I'm fucking hearing about it and we've known them longer than you," Steve said.

"Maybe since they know that the Upside Down exists, they think other things like the North Pole exists," Robin said.

"Makes sense," Steve frowned.

"I am NOT telling them that I'm not Santa," Eddie said, crossing his arms. "You do it, Steve!"

"I'm not doing it!" Steve yelled.

"I'll do it!" Robin yelled and then paused. "After everything they've been through. . .don't they deserve to believe in a little bit of magic?"

"I don't know. . .we would be lying to them, Robin," Eddie said.

Meanwhile, the kids were watching them argue from the window.

"So, how long do you think it'll take them to realize that we don't actually believe in Santa Claus?" Max asked.

"A while," Mike snickered.

"Eddie should have done a better job at hiding the Santa costume," Max said.

As Robin, Steve, and Eddie fought on the front lawn, the kids watched with freshly made hot chocolate and Christmas music playing in the background. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky, dancing around to land on the ground.

"The mood is right. The spirit's up. We're here tonight, and that's enough. Simply having a wonderful Christmastime. . ."

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Merry Sinsmas

Alastor x Reader

Just a little thought I'd like to share with you because I’m in the Christmas mood.

I hope you enjoy reading it and if you celebrate Christmas: I wish you a Merry Christmas. And if you don't: I hope you have a great few days anyway. :)

And to all of you: Merry Sinsmas. :D

Warning: I hope you don't mind that this short story briefly mentions that you are from Germany. If you can't identify with this, just see this sentence as a joke to wriggle out of a situation.

—————————————————————————

You're standing in the hotel lobby with a clipboard in your hand, working through a to-do list. You are in the middle of your Christmas preparations. Charlie and Vaggie are busy decorating the big tree in the centre of the lobby next to the stairs, Niffty is cleaning and judging by her crazy laugh, she's in a very Christmassy mood.

Lucifer is tending to the fairy lights, Husk is making punch for everyone and Angel and Cherri Bomb are getting the sound system ready.

As you stare at your clipboard, thinking about what you could do next, you notice out of the corner of your eye a shadow rise from the floor and stand next to you.

You don't even have to lift your eyes to realise that it's Alastor, standing so close to you that his large body is pressed against you.

You hear a snap of fingers, but you skilfully ignore it.

You're too busy dealing with the fact that the radio demon is invading your comfort zone - as he so often does.

It doesn't take long before he clears his throat meaningfully, inviting you to give him your attention.

So you raise your eyes and suppress your annoyed expression as best you can.

You look at him expectantly. What does he want?

He looks down at you with a mischievous smile. Then he takes a quick look at the ceiling before his eyes wander back to you.

You look up and see a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, obviously conjured up by him.

You sigh slightly.

So he wants to be kissed.

Alastor is really trying everything he can to get to you. You realise that he's been trying to make advances to you for months and win your heart with small - and also very large - gestures.

What you keep to yourself the whole time: He won your heart a long time ago. But you don't want to admit it.

Yes, you fancy Alastor - oh, you're so in love with him!

But your fear of commitment and the fact that he's one of the most dangerous demons here in hell stop you from getting involved with him.

Much to the displeasure of your friends, because the tension between Alastor and you has left its mark on them too and now they really want to see you two as a couple.

"Hahaaaa, there's a little green branch hanging right above us. What funny coincidences there are, aren't there, my dear?" he says euphorically in his radio filter voice.

"Real coincidences, yes," you reply sarcastically and leave it at that. At least that's what you try to do, but there's no way Alastor will let you get away with it.

He steps closer to you - it's hard to believe that's still possible - leans forward slightly and says: "You know I'm a man of tradition. In my day, we followed every custom without even batting an eyelid. It would be a shame for me and my inner well-being if you didn't appreciate my traditions, sweetheart."

You give him a wry, cheeky grin. Then you turn away from him and say: "Well, it's just a shame that I'm from Germany and this mistletoe tradition isn't practised there."

You move away from him and leave him standing there in his indignant static noise.

"OH NO, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Angel suddenly shouts across the lobby. He jumps up from his chair and stomps angrily towards you, grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you back on your heels under the mistletoe, where he sets you down right in front of the radio demon.

He grumbles: "We're not in fucking Germany here, we're in hell! And here ya don't just kiss under the mistletoe, here ya even fuck when ye're standin' under it! So do yerself and us a favour and respect our traditions! Ya kiss that creepy man now, understand?"

[vhswolf]

McLaren Christmas Dinner | Landoscar x Reader

Warnings: none I think, just a jealous Oscar wanting to go home

It's time for the big McLaren dinner party, the dinner I thought I wasn't going to participate in. I've been dating Lando and Oscar for a couple of months now, it was something that was difficult to know if it was going to be a great idea or an awful one, none of us had done this before, dating one person is hard to imagine two and imagine one of them being your teammate. Even everything being a recipe for disaster, we made it work. But the idea of going to a full on McLaren celebration was off my mind until Lando said we need to have a meeting (a stupid way we had to say that we needed to talk).

"I'm the bringer... bringer? I bring an idea for you two."

"We're listening." I said, cuddling up on Oscar's arm as Lando stood in front of us with a big smile on his face.

"Since we can bring a plus one to the McLaren dinner, what about we bring our girl?" Lando said like it was an obvious idea.

"I agree." Oscar said.

"Agree? Boys, are you guys thinking? That's a bad idea." I said sitting up.

"Why?"

"Because people will want to know who I'm, and you're going to say what? Our girlfriend? I don't think PR would approve of me being girlfriend of one of you."

"We can say you're our mutual friend." Osc said.

"Handsy like the two of you are? I don't see this working."

"You're overthinking it, babe." Lando sat by my side. "First of all, we can keep our hands to ourselves if needed and nobody will be there to out us, because if they do, they lose their job."

"And, they wouldn't believe we got luck enough to date you." Osc said, and Lan nodded.

"Yes, Osc is right and to be honest they think Osc is too boring to even try anything like this."

"I'm listening, Lando."

"I'm not saying it, McLaren people are, and come on, you look like a church boy, Oscar." Oscar rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Whatever, they won't figure anything, love, we promise you."

"This is risky as fuck."

"We just want to show up our girl a little bit, can you please go?"

"I'll go, but if anything happens, you both are the ones going to the PR meetings, not me."

"Deal." They both said together.

I got a gala worth dress, it was one of the Clio Peppiatt ones, and I asked for them to personalize it with a little McLaren logo in papaya, it was so beautiful, popping out in the middle of the whole black and silver dress. Both of my boys in black suits, Oscar with a traditional tie in dark dark midnight blue, and Lan with a black bow tie, both looking like a Disney prince. The two drivers were stopping at every step talking to everyone, I was a bit behind, not wanting to be seen by anyone, but it didn't work for long.

"This is (Y/n)." I heard my name as I was looking around, completely lost in my own thoughts. I looked at them and saw Zak Brown looking at me, so I smiled.

"Hi."

"Hello, nice to meet you." He looked at both boys and back at me. "So, you're friends with my drivers? How come I never saw you?"

"I was never invited to the paddock." I joked and Lando looked at me shocked.

"What? That's not fair!"

"Not a lie, though."

"You two need to learn how to treat a pretty girl, that's why you guys don't have a girlfriend." He shook his head and I chuckled. "You will be very welcome anytime."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, and you two, invite the girl, c'mon."

"We will." Oscar said, looking at me, then Zak walked away. "We never invited you?" Oscar asked and I laughed.

"Sorry, what I was supposed to say? That I didn't want to go?"

"Now you're going, I don't care what you say." Oscar said in a low voice before walking away.

"Uhh, Osc is mad, you're fucked." Lando whispered in my ear.

"Osc!" I called, walking a bit faster to get to him. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not." He is.

"I'm sorry, baby." I whispered in his ear and he looked at me, but didn't say anything. He walked to the bar and Lando put his hand on my shoulder.

"Didn't work, did it?"

"Nope, can you talk to him?"

"I can try, but I won't be getting punished because of you." He said walking to where Oscar was.

"Hello." I hear a voice behind me, when I turned I saw Pato O'ward with a big smile on his face. "I'm Patricio O'ward, but you can call me Pato, nice to meet you."

"Hi, I'm (Y/n), nice to meet you too, Pato." I smiled.

"I never saw you around, I'm wrong?"

"You're not, I'm Lando and Oscar's friend." He nodded.

"I love your dress, you look good in McLaren." He joked.

"Thank you, maybe I'll use more McLaren." He nodded.

"You should." His flirty aura is bigger than Lando's and I thought this was impossible. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you..." Before he finished his question, I felt a hand on my waist, and then another one.

"Hey, Pato!" Lando said smiling. "Everything OK?" Pato nodded.

"Yes, I was just saying her dress is gorgeous."

"I agree." Oscar said, squeezing my waist even more.

"That was all, see you guys around." Pato said and walked away.

"Pato, really?" Oscar said through clenched teeth.

"I was just being nice." I turned to look at them and get away from the touches on my waist. Both men had a drink in their hand, Lando was more in a happy mood than Oscar.

"He wanted to fuck you, you don't need to be nice in this case."

"Osc, it is not like I was going to give him my number or anything."

"Is kinda funny, Osc, did you see his face?" Osc bit the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his smile.

"That was nice, but still, no more talking with that womanizer."

"You say it like your boyfriend isn't a womanizer too."

"Former womanizer! Now I'm a family man." Lando said, crossing his arms. Oscar chuckled and shook his head.

"I can't be mad at you for long, can I?" He ran his fingers through my hair and sighed. "I love you."

"Love you too, baby."

"Too much for pretending to be besties?" Lando said looking at the scene. Oscar rolled his eyes and pulled away.

"I want to go home."

"After dinner." Lando said, hugging Oscar shoulders. Osc nodded, and we started to walk off, but not before listening to a person behind us commenting.

"Does Oscar know Lando wants to fuck his girlfriend?" We looked at each other and laughed.

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 how to tell you goodbye

— weeks after his mysterious disappearance, lu shows up at your door with a message for you.

notes :: TW FOR DUBCON. uh yeah I find the idea of him apologizing for doing what he has to do very hot. f!reader sorry guys this is self indulgent

You don't remember how long it's been.

But you know it'd been long enough for you to stop wondering if he was actually coming back or not, and try to cope with that fact. He was gone - there was very little doubt in your mind about that. He'd stopped responding to calls and messages, his socials went cold, his friends, at least the ones you knew, hadn't heard anything either.

He disappeared. And the last thing you ever heard from him was that he was planning on doing something... real. But he never told you what. He could be dead for all you know, and there was nothing you could do about it.

It took a pretty big toll on you. He was one of the few friends you had, and just like that he was gone. Just when things were looking up for you, your support system just had to vanish into thin air. You missed him, fuck, you missed him more than anything. You missed your little coffee shop dates, the weekend parties, playing games in your apartment when it was lonely, sitting in the park together just talking for hours.

You miss those little looks he gave you when he thought you weren't looking, the way that some of your mannerisms made him smile, the nights where your conversations would get real and you'd cry on his shoulder when it was too much for you. You miss how he'd let you.

You missed the moment when he made you look at him, and wiped your tears with his thumb, letting the tension between you two linger for longer than it should. You missed his warm, shaky breath against your cheek. But you missed the most that moment when you felt his lips on yours, just for that few seconds.

You didn't miss the way he seemed to have regretted it after.

But you remembered that the clearest of all... watching the guilt in his eyes set in as he moved away from you, standing from your couch and rushing for his bags, saying that "it was getting late" or some lie like that. You remembered how he didn't even look back at you as he walked out of your door.

And that was the last day you saw him. He texted you the next morning.

"Hey, I probably won't be able to see you for a while. Working on stuff. Gonna do something real with my life."

What the fuck did that even mean? It made you angry, irrationally so. It probably only made you angry because you thought it was your fault. But god dammit, that felt valid! You felt like you had a fair reason to be pissed. It was no secret you liked him - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out either! He'd do something like that so carelessly, and then just throw you out?

You hated it. Maybe you'd feel better with an explanation, but the truth of the matter is that he kissed you and then mysteriously disappeared, not to be seen again. And how were you not supposed to make assumptions in that situation?

And so you'd spend your days by yourself. With no more Luigi to rely on to keep you from spiraling, you'd been curled up in your room by yourself, scrolling through his social media posts, rereading your message logs to see if there's something you'd missed.

You had a jacket of his he left at your place, and every night you'd wrap a pillow in it and breathe in the mix of cologne and his natural scent until it lulled you to sleep.

It wasn't enough. You wish he'd come back, but even if he did, what was there to say? Even if he apologized, you didn't know that you'd forgive him.

That is, until he actually did come back.

No, surely that was just wishful thinking - that knock was probably a salesman or someone stupid like that coming to bother you. You dragged yourself up from your bed and slowly approached the door, groaning to yourself before putting on a fake smile to answer it.

And sure enough, there he was. Cold and scruffy looking, his clothes ruffled and his hair matted, bags under his eyes. He pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind himself.

He kissed you again. But this time he didn't hesitate, and he wasn't gentle - he threw himself onto you, your lips messily colliding with his as he leaned into it, diving his tongue into your mouth. His hands slid down to your hips, grabbing the waistband of your sweatpants so tight it was like he might fall off the Earth if he let go.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, and he hungrily pushed it as far as you'd let it go, which was admittedly pretty far. But then the shock faded, and you pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him back. He was weak enough that he fell back into the door, leaning against it to prevent from fully toppling over.

"What the fuck?!"

You'd never yelled at him before. Never even thought about getting upset with him. His face turned fearful, as he steadied himself and tried to walk forwards again. You took a step back for the one he took forwards.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who do you think you are, fucking with me like this?!"

His expression shifted. He just stared at you, blankly, either too tired or too numb to show any emotion anymore. And fuck, that only made you angrier. "You think this is funny? I was worried you could be dead, and now you just- show up, months later, looking like this? Why didn't you say something? You just- just-"

"I'll explain everything. Just... I really... missed you."

"Yeah? You didn't miss me enough to at least give me a heads up that you were alive!" You hid your face in your hands, sighing deeply trying to contain yourself. What reasonable explanation could there possibly be? You couldn't reason with him surely.

You hear him step forwards, and he places his hands on your hips again. You reach down to pull him off of you, but the moment you move your hands away from your face, he's pressing more kisses to your lips. He holds you tighter, his arms wrapping around you. "Get off me," you growl, but he doesn't listen.

He kisses your neck, his warm breath shaking profusely. "Luigi," you say, and he can't even look up at you. You yank one of his hands off, only for him to put it back on you with more force than the last time. "I said get off!"

"Let me make it up to you," he begs you, his gaze meeting yours as he walked you forwards, pushing you onto the couch. You try to stand, but he's quicker, and he straddles you, hovering over you and pushing you down by your shoulders. He stops looking you in the eyes, too embarrassed at what he was doing.

"Luigi, stop! I'm trying to talk to you, god dammit!" He doesn't listen. He can't. He's already straining his jeans, grinding his hips into yours. It's warm. He's warm, and fuck, you can't lie to yourself. You missed this feeling. You missed the feeling of something real being there with you. You missed him.

Your body betrays you, and you softly rock your hips forwards into his, swearing under your breath. He smiles softly, cupping one of your hips in his hand. "It's okay. I know you missed this." He looked at you, a weird sincerity in his eyes, considering what he was actually doing.

"I'm not messing around. This- this isn't funny. Let go of me." At some point you had stopped struggling without noticing, and you squirmed again, causing him to push more of his weight down onto you. He spoke softly to you. "Shh, it's okay... It's okay, I promise I won't take long. Promise, promise."

He muttered some words in Italian, something that sounded along the lines of a prayer as he rutted into you, yanking your hips up to get more friction. "Stop it," you say again, covering your face with one of your hands.

The truth is that you'd dreamed of this moment for so long. So very long. You'd dreamed of what it would feel like when he finally touched you, his skin on yours, giving you all he had to give. But fuck, not like this, not like this-

He finished with whatever he was reciting, and slipped his fingers under your waistband, along with the one of your panties and tugged them down. You pressed your thighs together, but he was stronger than you and pushed them apart, leaving you exposed for him.

"You're beautiful..." He stared down at you, leaving a crimson shade on your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just... I felt like I had to tell you goodbye." Your eyes widened as he said that, and you shook your head. "What are you talking about? Luigi, I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere either. You don't have to do this, please-"

By the time you finished, he was already unbuckling his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking against itself making you shiver. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, rubbing himself against your folds. He was big. Bigger than you expected. Big enough that it looked like this might leave you sore.

You tried to scoot back, but he reached for you and pulled you closer than you were before, gasping at the feeling of your wetness against his cock. He'd longed for this forever, maybe even since the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. It felt like heaven to him, despite how dirty he felt - despite the fact that he knew it was wrong.

Something about you looking down on him for this only made him harder.

He lined himself up with your entrance and parted you with just his tip, his nails sinking into your hips as he did. "Fuck," he whimpered, "I'm so sorry, amore."

And with that, he slid into you slowly. You sighed in relief, only to cry out when he was so overwhelmed by pleasure that he slammed himself into you as deep as he could manage, rolling his hips into you.

Fuck. You could feel him pressing against your cervix. His breath shook as he panted heavily, shutting his eyes tightly as he pulled out nearly all the way, only to slam back into you. He swore, leaving bruises on your sides from how hard he was holding you. It hurt but you didn't care.

He kept up this brutal force, moving all the way out just so he could thrust deep into you again. It took him a while to speed up just because he was so overstimulated by it. But when he did, he fucked you like a wild animal, slamming his hips into yours, the obscene sound of his skin hitting yours filling your apartment.

You looked up at him, who still had his eyes closed out of shame. You couldn't help but imagine what he saw behind his eyelids, what he was imagining as he fucked you in earnest. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he fought against them. "I'm sorry," he muttered, over and over again. He couldn't stop apologizing.

"It's- it's okay, it's okay... fuck-! I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you... oh god..."

That was too much for him. Your acceptance, that unconditional love of yours, the fact that he could do this, and you would still understand, pushed him over, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

His hands frantically slid up your sides as he leaned down onto you, both your chests pressed together, getting as much of his skin on yours as possible. He ran his fingers up and down you, committing every hill and valley to memory. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise you. I promise."

He kept mindlessly apologizing as he used you, controlled by his own need. There was no stopping him now, and you didn't want to. He was beautiful even like this, even at his lowest point. You knew that you loved him in this moment.

"I'm gonna cum, please, please... I'm sorry, I need it, please, baby-" He kept babbling through his tears, which fell onto your cheeks. You closed your eyes softly, leaning into his touch, pressing your lips to his.

He devoured you in an instant, the kiss deeper than before, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. "Perdonami, ti prego," he begged, speaking inbetween breaths.

"Lu," you cooed. "Go ahead. It's alright."

As soon as you commanded him, his eyes shot open and he threw his head back as he rammed into your cervix, spilling himself deep inside of you, his body shaking as he did. You tightened around him, the feeling of him finally letting himself go enough to make you cum too, as you called out his name.

He stayed tensed up over you for a moment, his arms struggling to hold his weight as his eyes shut, and he collapsed on top of you, his face in your chest. He started to sob, gripping you tight, one of his hands going down to entangle with yours. "I'm so sorry, amore," he repeated, over and over, "I'm sorry"s falling from his lips.

You pressed him closer, free hand stroking his hair softly as he crumbled in your arms. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Please don't hold it against me."

"We'll figure it out, okay, Lu? We'll figure it out, together. Me and you. Because I love you."

"I love you too.... No matter what happens, remember that I love you."

[papurgaatika]

Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you. 

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch,  never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule. 

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her. 

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again. 

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?” 

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.” 

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive. 

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-” 

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project. 

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-” 

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.” 

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.” 

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance. 

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit. 

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second. 

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red. 

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

 Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips. 

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy. 

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.” 

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths. 

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him. 

 “Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark. 

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory. 

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you. 

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up. 

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-” 

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE;  HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[sugarushwriting]

reuniting with exotic dancer lee minho aka cat daddy

minho x reader

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

you watched him from afar in the club, not wanting to be a distraction. you wanted to see minho at work, in his element.

you knew if he saw you, you wouldn’t had been able to see him do his job. he’d want to immediately drag you to the back and have his way with you.

and you’d let him.

hips rolling, tongue out, he was feeling himself. and minho was a damn good dancer too.

it’s been only two weeks since your friends brought you here for the first time. two weeks, your mind consumed by lee minho.

cat daddy. an exotic dancer. a male stripper. you had no shame, but what would your parents say?

your eyes twitched as minho took the twizzler from a girl’s mouth whom he was dancing for. she blushed clapping her hands.

but minho didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes like he did when he saw you.

you crossed your legs in anticipation of him noticing you. just a look from him alone can get you to cry a river down below.

you came 2 hours away, no plan, no where to stay, just your bag and mind clouded with images of minho.

your heart raced when minho found you sitting at the bar. he stood up from finishing a dance for a woman, eyes found yours and immediately locked in.

with a smirk, he said goodbye to the women, and stalked towards you.

no words shared he grabbed your hand and led you to the back. same room from last time. once the door shut behind him, he took off the ears, pushing you against the door and kissed you.

your hands wrapped around his neck, his left hand going down to pick up your right leg from under your knee.

the kiss was insane, full of need between you two. “fuck, i missed you kitten.” minho whispered against your lips, before trailing his own lips down your neck, to your exposed shoulder.

you moaned in response, a smile playing on your lips. “i’ve missed you too, cat daddy.” you teased, minho gripping your ass in response.

nose to nose, minho kissed you once more, before walking backwards, tugging you along. he sat on the bed, and pulled you down to straddle his lap.

“what brings you here?” minho asked, loving your scent. he smiled up at you, his fingers teasing at your hips.

“i told you i missed you.” you sighed kissing his lips. “just wanna be near you again.”

“mhm, i get off in twenty minutes , think you can wait that long for me?”

you nodded. “yes.”

“you can stay here and wait—,”

you shook your head with a pout. “i want to watch you work.” you smiled shyly, playing with the tie he wore tonight.

minho smiled proudly. “of course. but don’t get jealous, okay? just doing my job.” he flicked your nose.

“pft,” you scoffed, “never.”

that was a complete and utter lie. soon as you went back out there, minho had one more table to dance for and the lady was not keeping her hands to herself.

her friends egging her on with cheers. minho was being his professional and polite self, allowing it. but you wasn’t going to allow it.

sneaking off, you found a guard and pointed towards the table. from what you read online about this place, the owner was a woman and she took her employees safety and comfort seriously.

you smiled as the table got scolded from the guard, stating touching the dancers were not allowed unless it was a private dance.

minho finished his work, his eyes meeting yours with a toying smile of his own. you weren’t slick of what you had done, but minho wasn’t going to complain.

he nodded towards the back once again, you grabbing your bag to follow him.

“let me go to the dressing room and change. stay here and behave?”

you nodded, following his instructions. he came back out just a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, a dark tee, and a hat sitting backwards on his head.

“you even look handsome in everyday clothes.” you groaned, minho laughing.

“where do you want to go kitten?”

“it’s kinda late, but i’m hungry.”

“i know a good bbq place.” minho grabbed your hand, leading you off.

at the bbq place, you and minho laughed and joked with one another, while he also talked about how became an exotic dancer.

basically it was a bet between he and his friends, he lost, got the job, and ended up loving it.

“is stripping your only job?” you asked, taking a bite of your food.

minho looked at you like he wanted to bite your head off. “dancing.” he corrected and you giggled.

“sorry sir. i mean is dancing your only job?” you teased.

minho laughed, a smirk playing on his lips at you calling him sir. “im a dancer at night and during the day.”

your eyes widened. “you dance during the day?”

“not the same dancing i do at the club.” minho explained as he ate, “i teach different dance classes. occasionally teaching boxing classes as well.”

“where?”

“my friend owns a gym. he works hard to keep kids off the street and occupied.”

you smiled at the twinkle in minho’s eyes. he also explained how he has three cats, all living with his family back home, and that’s where he got ‘cat daddy’ from, a collaboration of his friend bang chan suggesting it.

“oh, so that’s where the name came from.”

“where else could it come from?” he asked, serious.

“oh, uh, well,” you stumbled out, “me and my friends thought it meant something more, mhm, dirty.” you quieted down at the last part.

minho raised his eyebrow and then began laughing in his high pitch giggle. “kitten no. that is not how i got my stage name.”

your face got hot thinking about sana’s innuendo two weeks ago.

“what’s gotten you so flustered?”

you shook your head. “no—nothing. the bbq just starting to get to me.” you lied.

minho smiled at you, loving the way you get so flustered easily. you both finished the dinner in about two hours, just enjoying talking and time together.

“mhm ready to go?” minho asked after paying the bill. you nodded with a smile, knowing what could possibly come next.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

imagine, you on all fours on minho’s bed. your wrists tied together, then tied to his bed frame. your legs spread behind you. you leaned down on your elbows, your arms becoming sore.

“did i say to lay down?” minho asked deeply.

“minho, my arms are tired.” you huffed. and so is your ass, you thought.

“i don’t care.” he bit out. “do as i say kitten.”

you obliged, back to raising on your palms, your wrists becoming sore from being tied.

another slap came to your ass cheeks, probably already burning red against your skin. you screamed out, hoping none of minho’s neighbors or roommates heard you.

although he claimed his roommates were gone for the night, you didn’t believe him. knowing minho just a bit, he was probably even more excited to have his roommates hear you.

“please minho,” you begged.

“please what, kitten?”

“please fuck me. i missed you.” you continued to beg. pleading. the fact he still hasn’t touched you, tortured you.

his fingers plunged into your wet cunt, turned on from the spankings you received. in and out he thrusted, not being too gentle, but making sure not to cause you any pain either.

“so wet from only spankings, kitten? how naughty.” minho teased.

“minho, now is not the time to tease.” you groaned. you were sweaty, horny, needy, and irritated from being horny and needy.

“fine.” minho stated. what you couldn’t see is his smirk on his face, eyes twinkling with mischief. you were so drowned out from need, you hadn’t heard his movement.

you didn’t know his plan until his dick was buried in you, no warning, no easing into it, just full force.

“well that shut you up.” minho chuckled. you gripped the comforter in immense pleasure and relief. it was an awkward position as your wrists were still tied together the frame.

“please untie the wrists minho. please.”

he did. no argument. instead, after he untied, he pulled your wrists together in one of his hands behind your back and began pounding you ruthlessly from behind.

“missed you too kitten.”

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce got up from a coma to find that the Manor had become the site of a baking contest, with everyone who was anyone in the superhero community participating, either as contestant or judge.

"What the fuck," he croaked to Alfred the moment he could.

"Steady on, Master B," Alfred said staidly. "You had so many visitors in your...state, that I'm afraid Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie took horrible advantage of it. Master Richard reluctantly agreed, citing morale as the reason, although I suspect it may have just been his sweet tooth that won the day."

"Alfred," said Bruce wearily. "How likely is it that my awakening will go unnoticed."

"Your 'awakening', as you put it, although that word rather implies that you are a mummy—"

"...Alfred!"

"—will be noticed in no time. Master Clark has been...quite assiduous in his visitations."

"How assiduous?"

"He visits everyday, and checks on you twice or thrice. There is just no keeping him away. He has brought over Masters Jon and Conner. They are rather ahead on the scoreboard."

"There's a scoreboard?" Bruce rubbed his face. "Alfred, please tell me you have not taken part in any of this tomfoolery."

Alfred looked mildly guilt-stricken. "Well I'm afraid you see, sir, that I am...head judge."

"What about Selina?" asked Bruce, his head wandering.

"Miss Kyle has submitted her lioness, Nala, along with Master Damian's pet tiger, to the 'animal judges' section of the baking contest."

Bruce grit his teeth in annoyance. "The more I learn, the more I wish I had stayed in bed. But, I suppose, every buffoonery must end."

Alfred stopped in his tracks. "Buffoonery, sir?"

Bruce looked up at him, sliding on his gown. "Well surely you don't agree this should have been done?"

Alfred looked still. "Well, sir—"

He looked away. Bruce's hackles rose. "What?"

"You forget. The participants of this contest were not here for this...buffoonery, as you put it. They were here because they cared about you enough to drop their lives and come to your home, and stay with your children in their grief, and bake silly cakes that they probably had no interest in baking. They stood here as your heart rate fluctuated and stabilized, they supported each other and were stronger together. And the thing that bonded them was you, sir." Alfred turned to the heart rate monitor, and turned it off. He still had his back to Bruce. "Most persons would be lucky to have half so many people their lives, who cared half as much."

Bruce's face grew still. "Alfred, you don't think—that I don't appreciate it."

"Of course not, sir," said Alfred soothingly. "I know you have a hard time expressing your feelings. And some of the blame, I'm afraid, rests with me."

"No—"

"Yes, sir. I never taught you how to say thank you. You have many virtues, but I'm afraid gratitude's one that was missed." Alfred gathered up the sensors, and stuffed the syringes, tidying up. "So you can start with me, and work your way up."

He looked up at Bruce expectantly.

"Thank you," said Bruce, in an abashed voice. "I know I haven't been the best at—"

"You're welcome, dear boy," said Alfred, his wrinkled face illuminated with a smile. "You're always going to be welcome."

Bruce leaned forward and hugged Alfred. Alfred's lean body returned the hug with a fierceness that Bruce had not expected from the seventy-year-old man.

"Now," said Alfred, after they both had cleared their throats and looked away in embarrassment. "The winners of the contest are to be given their prize by you. So I suppose there will be multiple reasons for people to be happy you have awoken."

"Who has won?" Bruce asked, thinking about the people who visited him in his coma: strong firm hands that held his and did not let go, a woman's subtle perfume that enveloped him with one kiss, and a small boy's warm tears that fell on his father's face.

"Hal Jordan," announced Alfred, checking the scorecard.

Bruce groaned. "Not that man."

"I'm afraid so. The judges were unanimous, after tasting his soufflé. I suspect he used extra-terrestrial ingredients, but although that went against the spirit of the competition, it did not go against the letter of it." Alfred smoothed down the sheets. "I must inform you, Master Harold has been instrumental in keeping Master Damian's hopes up, in regards to your recovery. 'Your father is one tough bastard to beat', I believe were his words."

Bruce stood up. "Well, I suppose I can give Hal Jordan his stupid prize." He corrected his sleeves, brushing lint off them. There was something stupid in his heart. He suspected it to be fondness. When had so many good people started caring for him? And why would they care for a fuck-up?

As usual, Alfred read him to a tee. "Let us put our self-doubt to rest, Master Bruce. Go upstairs and be a bloody good host."

Bruce sighed, although his heart was almost content, for once. "Yes, Alfred."

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-two of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Please,” he manages again, and it’s so fucking hard to not just–to not just ride him exactly as “too much” and greedy as he’s trying not to, and so fucking hard not to think about Bernard’s mouth nipping at his chest and Bernard’s hands on his ass, making sure–making sure Tim can really see just how “inspired” Kon got him and just what they’re both doing about it, and–and–“Feels so good, feels so good, wanna come, wanna make you come, want you to do it inside, please do it inside, don’t pull out, fuck–” 

He hears Tim take a very careful, doors-blowing-in breath, and Bernard laughs raggedly and then buries a groan against his collarbone and grips his ass tighter. 

“Hey,” he says, just as ragged and sounding like he’s had the air knocked out of him, which makes Kon feel pretty good about how he’s doing, even though he’s not even really all that good at, like–riding somebody like this. “Gimme your hands, alright? Keep ‘em behind your back, just–” 

“M’kay, I–yeah, ‘kay,” he stammers, letting go of his wrist and dropping his hands down towards Bernard’s own, since he assumes that’s what the guy means and all, though he doesn’t know what he wants with– 

“Good boy,” Bernard says, letting go of his ass to catch his hands. He gives them both a squeeze, which Kon melts a little over and also feels stupidly horny about, and then he guides them down and puts them on his ass right where his own were and gives them another light little squeeze. “Make sure Tim gets a nice view, alright? Show him how much you like it.” 

“A-alright,” Kon manages, and actually fucking blushes over the fucking idea, which is fucking ridiculous, but–but he definitely does, yeah, even as he grips his cheeks just like Bernard did and lifts and spreads them up a little again and–and definitely blushes about it, fuck. “I–like–?” 

“Yeah, like that. Good boy,” Bernard says again, pressing a little kiss against his collarbone as he lets go of his hands to skim his own up his hips and sides and ribs. Kon shudders roughly, mostly in his thighs, and clutches up tighter around the other’s cock. It feels–good to. It feels really, really good to. 

Bernard maybe agrees, he thinks, given how the guy groans over it. 

“Fuck, seriously, so cute,” he says both breathlessly and feelingly, curling his fingers against Kon’s ribs for a moment and then pushing his hands up under and over his pecs and pushing them up a little too. Kon feels way too into how it feels to have someone just pushing his body around, even just in little ways like that. “Jesus, you ride dick like you want the whole thing first thing.” 

“I do want it,” Kon begs, which is maybe kind of stupid since he’s the one doing the work here and the one forcing himself not to be greedy, but–“Want it, want the whole thing, lemme have it, please lemme have it, m’tight, right? Your dick feels so good, does my ass feel good too? You like it? Like me? Really want you to, you’re so nice to me, I don’t get it, you’re so nice and you’re so fucking hot and I want you to like me.” 

“I like you,” Bernard says a lot more feelingly, and rolls his hips up to emphasize the point as he slides his hands up over Kon’s chest. It definitely, definitely does, and Kon’s gut burns and his cock throbs. “I like you a lot. And my dick really likes you. My dick is now actually seriously considering the ‘become a pink kryptonite-themed supervillain’ plan, in fact. I assume the other Supers might not be into that but I figure they’ll just let you handle me, all things considered.” 

“They would absolutely have to lock me up in the Fortress to keep me from being the one to do literally all of that ‘handling’,” Kon laughs breathlessly, feeling warm, warm, warm. Bernard’s just–he’s really funny, and he’s cute, and he maybe gives “instructions” more than “orders” but he gives them so easy, and Kon doesn’t get why he’s being so nice to him. 

He is absolutely the opposite of complaining about the “nice”, obviously, but it’s just–he doesn’t know. It’s not like he thought the guy wouldn’t be nice or anything, just–just he’s being nice to him. 

To–him. 

Kon doesn’t even really know what’s going on in his head about that right now, but . . . but there’s definitely something going on in his head about that right now. Just–something. 

“Hmmm, I might need to be a little sneaky, then, wouldn’t want ‘em doing that before I got you all collared-up and warmed-up,” Bernard says with a little grin, giving Kon’s pecs an appreciative little squeeze and then rubbing both his thumbs across both his nipples. Kon bites his lip and stutters–just stutters his hips a little, maybe. “Aw, that’s cute. Did you like that, boy? You got really tight for it.” 

“I like it,” Kon says, then bites his lip again and digs his teeth in a little harder this time, and maybe pushes his chest just a little more into Bernard’s hands. The jokey fantasy idea, yeah, but also–“I–just feels really–” 

It’s not even that the actual, like, physical part feels that good, though it definitely does, just–Bernard paid so much attention last time he was touching his chest, and he seems to, like, really like his chest, or at least keeps coming back to it, and that feels . . . 

That’s the thing that feels “really”, Kon guesses. And also the thing that makes him maybe wanna get a couple of those piercings after all, and get to wonder if Bernard is looking at his S-shield to see if they show, next time he sees the guy. Which is probably a stupid thought since it’s not like he’s even gonna find that idea hot once he’s done being gay, but also–also he just likes the idea of getting admired anyway, sue him, and also, like . . . 

Well. Bernard would still think it was hot, right? And Kon really doesn’t think he’d mind making himself a little bit better eye candy for the guy, after how fucking nice he’s been to him already. And like–maybe Bernard would think it was hot he’d gotten those piercings specifically because of him, too, and not just the eye candy part. 

And maybe Tim would like it, if Kon did something like that for his boyfriend. 

Alternately, maybe that’s weird and insane and way, way too much to actually seriously do. But–well–Tim already said he could ask once he wasn’t gay anymore, so like . . . Tim would tell him if it was too much, Kon figures. Right? Like–he’d tell hiim if it was okay to do or not. 

And if it was okay, maybe he could also tell him if Bernard would be more into gold or stainless steel. 

Or, like–if he thought there were maybe a couple other piercings he should get too.

[bokutos-babyowl]

The Fall to a Thump

Fernando Alonso x Reader! Sainz

Content includes: 18+ MDNI,

Word Count: 1199

Summery:

It was never planned to fall for your brother's best friend or hurt the Pact of the Spaniards, but when things start to get rough, will you get caught?

Masterlist

It started rough at the Brazil Grand Prix, with all the crashes, and the rain; it was 50 shades of clusterfuck on the race week. Your brother Carlos is not having a good time this week at all, with Crash in Q2, the rain pouring, and to top it off, starting from the pits. You don't blame him for locking you out as you try to comfort him, hoping that being with him would help you not worry about Nando still on the track. But when you arrive to make sure he is okay, he slams the drivers' room door into your face. Turning around, you see the tense faces of the Ferrari crew but do nothing but walk out, heading to Aston Martin; your brother would be too busy to notice your absence.

Walking to Aston Martin was nothing new; you knew to go through the back that Lance leaves cracked for you to walk to Nando's room. Finding his room, you find the headset and your small cubby of blankets as snacks, your second home on the grid known to only a few (not even your brother knows where you go). Headset on, you listen to the rest of the race, drivers complaining about red flags and the whole clusterfuck of issues. Knowing that in your position you can't be out worried for Nando outside of his room, hoping that he makes it back safe. Falling asleep from the anxiety, you wake up to your ringing a text from Lance saying that Nando finished safe but needed help to get out of the car and would miss media duty. Waking up and putting your things away, you get ready for a hurt Nando, laying out his massage table and grabbing the salves to make him feel better, knowing he was going to once again sleep and not take care of himself. Throwing your phone aside on silent, you were ready to get him feeling like the rookie he is.

Walking in, he was not expecting you to be in his room, knowing that your brother had a rough race. Looking around, he finds what you had set up for him, then you sit on the bed with the skirt he loves and the red tank top. Walking over to you, he takes off his driver's suit. “Amorcita,” he says, pulling you off the bed and giving you a kiss. “Strip Nando, let me take care of you. I heard about how hard it was to get out of the car.” He winces as you bring that up, his back giving away his age. You start to help strip him of the sweaty clothes and turn on a hot shower for him. “Go wash up and then lay down on the massage bed for me, papi,” you say with a wink.

A few minutes later he shows back up with his towel on. You walk to guide him to the massage bed, helping him lay down and get comfy. “Stay right there.” Grabbing the salve, warming some in your hands, you start at his lower back, taking the tension from his hips as well. Nando gives a loud moan as you work out a knot in the middle of his back, moving your way up. “Fuck Amorcita, what would I do after a race without you?” he says with a huff. Moving up to his shoulders, you whisper into his ear. “I would probably always hear the complaints when hanging around you and Carlos yet never act to make you feel better.” “It pays to be your brother's hero; I think about that every time and thank him when I see you,” he huffs out, letting out the tension. “Turn around, Nando; let's start on your shoulders.” As he turns around, you notice you can't get everywhere you need to from the side.

Kicking off your shoes, you climb on the table, straddling him. Looking up to you, he has a glint in his eyes before shifting elsewhere, one that you choose to ignore for now. Straddling his hips, you give him some friction to his lower region; his hands grab onto your hips, trying to keep the friction going. Stopping your motions and pushing off his hands, you give him a glare. “Let me finish my job, Fernando, you say as your hands start massaging his chest; you can feel him losing it with how much he is pushing against your core. Working your way down, you slowly start to get him out of his pants. “Merde Amorcita,” he says as you slowly start to stroke him. “Patience Nando,” you say as you blow against the redhead, looking into his eyes before licking the precum off. Pulling you up with him, holding your hands, he places you right above him; moving your skirt aside, he slowly brings you down onto his cock. Moaning into his neck, you can feel every vein sinking into your walls. “Amorcita, you are so tight, my perfect cunt, made just for me.” Nodding your head, you start to slowly move yourself so he knows you are ready.

Nando takes that cue and slowly starts to tip you towards your first orgasm. Hips snapping back and forth as you muffle your moans into him. You can feel him start to stutter as you are about to read your own. Leaning back out of his grasp, you ride him until you both cum. Climbing off of him, you start to clean him up with your mouth. Until you are moved off of his cock. Lips popping off with a small pop sound, “You need to get ready for Amorcita; I will not be holding back,” he says with a wink.

As you both get ready to be presentable for the public, you see your and Nando's phones with missed calls and texts from Carlos and Lance. Tumbling through the door, you see Lance, running from a fuming Carlos. You make eye contact with your brother, knowing you are royally fucked… Walking to Carlos to calm him down, he walks past you straight to Fernando. “WHY OUT OF ALL PEOPLE DO YOU HAVE MY SISTER?” Fernado looks at him with a straight face. “What do you mean she came here after you of all people locked her out? Calm down, Carlos, she is safe with me,” he says with a wink. “See, your princessa is safe, no? Nothing is out of place, not a hair, he replies to himself, looking you over. “Fine, but next time answer your damn phones and keep her away from Lance next time he is up to something.” Carlos replies, looking Lance up and down as a threat. “If that's all, I will return with Carlos. See you later at race dinner,” you say to Fernando, walking out behind your brother, swaying your hips.

“She will be the death of both of us if you don't tell him soon; these walls aren't as soundproof as you seem to think,” Lance says, looking at Fernando, trying to be serious.

“The death of me she will be,” he replies, thinking about what is to come tonight after dinner.

[ashblooddragons]

Just As Bad As You Are

Request made by @athzhowakar

Summary: When a worderful lay with your husband leads to you giving him good news, but what if he pieces together your dark secret, the only thing you would ever keep from your dear older brother.

Word count: 1377

Warnings: smut, p in v, slight choking, mentions of miscarriges, mentions of poisioning, toxic relationship, Targcest, tell me if I missed anything

I moan as Maegor fucks me from behind, there isn’t a night he doesn’t take me. For why should he go to his others when they can’t give him children and I’ve already given him three?

“Maegor.” I moan out as he grabs my hair making me arch my back.

“I’m gonna put another babe in that belly of yours, you’ve been empty of my seed for too long.” he groans out as he grinds his hips just right, that he makes me see stars. 

I can’t help but laugh, for ever since the Maesters said I was fit for childbearing again there hasn’t been a morning or night that his seed wasn’t working its way inside me. “Do you truly think with how often you take me that I am not with child yet?” I say before another moan leaves my throat when his palm lands on my rear. 

“Every time I think I fuck that brat out of you, then it rears its head begging to be taught a lesson.” He says before pulling out and flipping me so I lay on my back only to slam back into me with more force and vigor than before. 

“What, no snarky remark, no comment on how I love when you’re a brat? He teases as he takes my right leg and puts over his shoulder so we both feel him go deeper. 

I can’t even speak, I just grip the hair on the back of his neck as he ruts into me. I know if any maid, courtier, or gods forbid one of his other fucking wives, walked by they would only hear the sound of skin hitting his and obscene moans. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” I beg as I feel my peak just along the horizon. 

“Go on, cum on my cock you little slut.” He demands as he reaches up to grip my throat choking me until he feels my cunt spasm around his cock as I milk him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck.” He groans out as his seed fills me before he lays against my chest.

We lay there as we both come down from our highs. Me rubbing his back tracing all his scars like constellations, and him kissing my neck and moving his hands up and down my thighs adn ribs. 

It’s these moments I feel the safest, not when I have two guards following me, or when I stand next to my darling golden Gaelithox. No, I feel the safest when I’m in the arms of the man I love, and who loves me.

“I wasn’t being a brat, the Maesters told me last night I’m with child again.” I whisper before playfully biting his ear.

His look is priceless when he leans back looking down at me as he uses his arms to hold himself up. “Do not jest.” He says with that tone that makes even men tremble, but not me.

I take his shocked state as a chance to take control and flip us so I’m on top. “I do not jest, my moon blood is two moons late.” I say as I pin his arms next to his head. We both know if he wanted to he could easily get out of my grip, but we also both know he doesn’t want to.

With those words I climb off his lap and take my robe and wrap it around me as I go to tell the guard that I am in need of a bath. As I wait I decide to brush my hair before my bath as it doesn’t need washed but it most definitely needs brushed after our escapades. 

I notice Maegor is lost in thought but assume it must be because of a council meeting, he pulls on his breaches as my Maids come in with hot water for my bath. I sigh in relief as I sink into the heat of the bath waving my Maids away. “Leave me.” 

I start to scrub my arms with pomegranate seeds not noticing Maegor taking a stool and sitting behind me. 

“You’ve never lost a babe.” His gruff voice fills my ears startling me as I turn to look up at him.

“No I haven’t?” I look at him confused, fighting the fear that fills my belly that he has figured it out. 

He only moves to take some pomegranate and my other arm starting to scrub the coarse seeds into my skin. I watch as his jaw tenses and releases and I know he knows when his eyes look into mine. 

“And yet all of my other wives have.” He says his eyes boring into mine but I will not show fear, I don’t regret what I did. “I thought Tyanna, though I suspect I was right with her. But there were many lost, too many she couldn’t have known about that left their mothers wombs too soon. My Council said you must have something to do with it, I didn’t want to believe them, but now I wonder if I should have.” He says gripping my arm to the point tears come to my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

 “Do you want me to admit something? Perhaps make the accusation.” I hiss out as I grit my teeth. 

I watch as his nostrils flare in rage, I know he doesn’t want to accuse me, I’m his sweet little sister, but he also knows I won’t admit anything if he doesn’t accuse me first. 

“Did you force them to miscarry? Did you poison my other wives?” He demands with a scowl.

“Yes.” 

I watch as his face morphes into shock and rage. I know he must have been praying I would no, that I would deny these allegations until my last breath, but I won’t for I don’t regret what I did.

“Why?” He asks in a calm voice that I know is hiding a inferno of rage.

“Your my brother, we came from the same womb, and yet I had to share you with a barren Hightower, a whore from across the seas, and three more courtly whores. You didn’t even wed me properly, you took me at the same time as you did those two other bitches looking for any needy hound. I knew what I had to do, Mother didn’t teach me those dark ways for nothing, she knew just as I do now. That you are weak, you will take any lady or whore to your bed and call her wife, that all a man has to do is have his pretty daughter suck your cock and then he is a man to be jealous of. But I am not some Lady of court, nor am I a whore, I am a dragon and a dragon must find another of their kind or else their embers will cease to burn. So I poisoned your stupid little wives, and I made sure Tyanna didn’t touch my womb for I would be the only one to bear your children. I don’t regret it, I never would, but now you have decision to make.” I say breathless after I let all the darkness I had kept hidden from him for so long out of my heart and into the air so only us and the gods to hear and judge.

He only stares at me, tears brimming his eyes before he looks down, shaking his head. “And what decision is that?” He asks force breaking from sheer shock.

“Will you execute me, charge me for my crimes? Or will you keep this a secret that we take our graves letting no man judge me, only the gods.” I say reaching over the tub to take his hands in mine. 

I smile when I feel his hands squeeze mine and he looks back up at me and says. “Now what kind of older brother would I be to have my little sister hanged for something so trivial?” 

He then leans forward and kisses me fiercely picking me up as I wrap my legs around his waste. 

“I knew you would never betray me.” I say as he kisses down my stomach towards my core as he begins another round.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

[swimmingenthusiasty]

Woah. That phrase is nostalgic of school. Fucking stationary. Pencil case.

Every surface is fucking smooth. and flat. The tables the floors the board the field the court the path the brains.

The girls like steaming compost heaps inside uniform. Sterile, kept from dirt and dust, yet somehow gross. Warm and fixed in place behind a desk like the zits and pustules on their face. Insecure eyes darting side to side and only finding each other, other girls to judge. Like some type of layer in hell.

Loosing their shit over 'guys' who are all mummy's boys at that age. Yelling over their egos, mum flavoured cries for approval. Repeating mum's script. The asian one talking about a 'gud future' it was just what mum said. The stickler worried about safety was just mum's script. Literal fucking babies. With egos. Because those are the two things that mums make. Babies and egos. It's like full circle for the girls looking because nothing less conceited would have sufficed.

There's no patriarchy. Guys stop moving without egos. Without someone to hype them up. If guys want to function without girls, they will invent women amongst themselves to hype them up. If you want dad to keep going to work and mum does a shit job of hyping him up, you better find a way fast. Either you become like a girl and hype or you get used to making your own home. If she insists that you just can't do that and you can't say no because you're still a mommy's boy and her script overrides yours. Then I hope you like lacey stuff. There was one more thing. Oh, this is when I knew it was him. Women created guys like this because of the way they are with eachother. The way they compete and stuff but always indirectly, through a middle thing. That's why they made men.

This is brother's air. Before he leaves for work is when he has the most to give and he only gives when he sees something in my messages. Doesn't make it less true. I mean i don't know if it is fully correct. I'm like a windchime at this point. Anyone you put me near, I'll make a noise to their presence, to their movements, to the air they displace. Guys usually make writing happen though. Girls will make something actually happen.

If I really wanted I can take with me this feeling about -not being a guy's hype prop by releasing my concern for finances and a place to sleep, for stability. Not stability itself but my concern over it.

She wanted me to replace him in her life, to earn for her in his place and she'd go gut whatever he'd had left without holding back. Mistakes me for him often like it already happened in her mind. Like there was no need to ask. She put me between them when I was little and said I should defend when they fought. I think she also liked cucking when they were good. I think she's a bit gay the way she talks about little girls and women's thighs. I don't know if that means I got it from her, like passed down or if I reacted to how gross she was being. Anyway. All that to say that the next time I'll say 'okay burn the house down if you like' when she tries to make herself your problem (her moods and emotions are hers) or her lifestyle your fault (her lack of lasting friendships does not make you a mandatory friend forever, you're no different to all the other people who wouldn't want to stay) or insists her decisons are your decisons (all those times you say something and get ignored, it wasn't hard to hear what you said, she didn't forget that quick. It's up to you to decide how much respect you want) but then that's no way to practice having a house and any fight or playing up will get a crowd. It's hard to affirm without resorting to disrespect when someone is actually dismisive and disrespectful. I can see how their conversations always went the same. She got what she gave. Then that carries over into other conversations. Or you just feel a bit sad and resentful at real kindess, and i've seen it on my father's face. Like he's thinking oh I have to get used to this now? Where were you this whole time. You're only temporary, it's her shit that I'm used to, we'll be back in the shit and you'll be gone, so just be gone early as a favor. It's not just her. He attracted her from a lifetime of the same shits. It made him more than rough around the edges as a consequence and I've gone through all that's like and I wouldn't want to repeat what he felt or how he became. Input output. Change his input, don't have the same shit he had.

All this sympathy towards him. Told you it was the brother. He misunderstands that's why he thinks I need to think this stuff. I need these people to take back their issues. Him you can't tell him anything other than you're hurt, you need to work on yourself. You're allowed to tell someone enough and they should leave. You don't need a million and one ways to push people away. Some are really hurtful. She was at fault when you said enough and she just smirked that you reacted and looked a fool infront of your house. Now for her, you really can't tell her anything. That's why it's taken so long to peel her off. But being here is because he failed me. I went to him, to be my lifeline IF I needed the van sold. End of story. He betrayed himself so often that he just wanted someone else to take the shit. That's why he called her seconds after he hung up and promised me he wouldn't. That's not exactly why though. There's something severly damaged about him from that last disrespect. She went to his last respectable friendship source, the guy she couldn't dis, undisputed source of respectability amongst both of them and the guy called and shamed him. It's like how the guy at the end of 1984 broke. He will just do anything after that. To appease his opressor. My father had a right to a boundary that she could not cross. He is helping by staying away. He is preventing himself from further betrayal. He is of no use to either of us in this fight. Let me finish and if I betray myself it won't be his influence. Don't fuck bears next time pa pap.

Think of leaving and that's how I know brother's air is wrapping up. It always shows up at the end as what he wants. So stressed to see the car parked, room taken up. Doesn't make it the wrong decision necessarily. Im pretty sure i could sneak guys around in the morning. To help line her up. So they want the same thing. I couldn't get him to line up with her though. I can ask for more stuff, room back, more space in the garden, hang around the house a lot. Though I still think he'd stay and get more sabotagey. It's what he's practiced. More foreign for him to get a place. More familiar to ruin something that's around. I get nothing from a fight. I don't want to have the house, I don't like to be here all the time. I can visualise him moving out. Like he does. But again, for what? I would gladly exchange the feelings for them for something good towards myself. It's just that the best way to do that is not clear cut. Everyone did the best they could with what they had. You can't choose them. If however she chose you to be her backup financial plan that's something but not at all uncommon. If she fought hard to hold you back so she wouldn't be alone then that is also not unheard of in love.

It's about learning about these behaviours from others and knowing better and also, unfortunately, it's about undoing hangups they might have caused. If they weren't undoable, many unfortunate consequences are permanent. It becomes a question of acceptance and if you accept will it also define your direction? Will you do something with it, every. single. day.

Early bird gets the moon

Lake Elkhorn, Maryland.

📷: @zalman_waihaus

[lost-romantique]

Hey so I just came across a fan theory that said they think Vassago will play a part in reuniting Via and Stolas and during this process Stolas will pursue a relationship with him, again trying to refer to that one twitter post about Stolas finding a new BF even though it most likely referred to BTB guy. Also since his romance with Blitz cost him Via. That also brings me back to the same fear about Stolas’s ‘dirty bird’ song in season 3 that had the same person working on it as a song for Vassago that it may be a duet. But it doesn’t make sense since they’ve doubled down on how much Stolas loves Blitz, him pursuing a new relationship seems dramatic. And a love triangle along with all the drama that’s already going on seems extra. Also we don’t know what Vassago’s role would be, Loona or Blitz could easily also play a part in reuniting them. More fans who assume Stolas has given up on a romance with Blitz because he lost his daughter. I don’t think so, just that he is depressed about Via, not that he’s lost interest in Blitz. What do you think?

I feel like a lot of people are really desperate to get Stolas and Vassago to work out, but I personally feel like that would ruin Stolas' character for a lot of people and wouldn't make much sense in the long run.

Stolas has spent the entirety of Season 2, desperately chasing after an emotionally constipated lizard, and now he has him.

If Blitz is giving 110% of himself to Stolas, and Stolas magically goes "Well FUCK Blitzø, I'm now magically in love with Vassago". It would be shoddy writing, and many people would consider it cheating and a huge betrayal of trust.

Also, I think people are doubting Blitz here. Blitz is playing the role of caretaker and perfect boyfriend for Stolas because he sees Stolas as his now. Blitz is very much possessive of the things he deems that are his.

Blitzø Buckzo is a man that has fucked, stolen, cheated, and killed many people to get what he wants, and to create I.M.P. His entire reason for being is to keep his found family, and Stolas is now part of that family.

Also, remember, this is Blitzø's dream now...

Blitz is going to operate in a way to ensure that dream of his comes true. That dream of where he can eventually settle down with Stolas, and build a life with him and their daughters together.

And Blitzø will do anything and everything to ensure that he makes that dream of his into a reality.

In regards to 'Dirty Bird', I already made a post about it.

Also, Blitz has messed up a lot in regards to his relationship with Stolas, but here's the thing...

As Stolas says, this was his choice...

He chose to save Blitzø from execution. He chose to put his life down on the line for him in the name of love.

"I am the mastermind, the master of my fate. Sure as the stars have shined, I'll give my life to clean your slate."

He also did choose to give Blitzø the book, and start their transactional relationship.