#im not paid enough to pass out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmania · 7 months ago

Text

inbetween | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series master list

summary ; after months over talking over email, you and spencer finally meet in person.

warnings ; reader & spencer fall in love over emails, meeting in person, insecure reader, insecure spencer, worries about not being enough, pretty much just pure fluff tbh.

an ; in between yall. this song. this is the first oneshot in the good riddance x spencer reid one shot series!! while i waiting for the poll to finish!!

part one, part two, part three

‘I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring. For more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe two. two hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new. ‘i wish that you could see 'em, their faces lighten up their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enough of waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't care but he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there’

The email rang up at exactly 5:30, exactly when you expected it to. You were sitting at your desk at work, knees pulled to ur chest as you spun on the desk chair. Your coworkers paid no mind to your antics, after working in the safe office for years, with each other. They were used to it by now.

You chewed at your lip as you refreshed your email when the clock changed to exactly 5:30, a wide smile dawned your face when you read the email, you heart ached with longing as your eyes traced over the words on the screen, your stomach tightening and your heart clenching.

Sent from [email protected] at 5:30pm

Hi.

I don’t know when this will send because I’m writing it while on the jet, probably as we get lower and more towards landing, I’ll spare you the scientific details. We only got back from a case this morning, early. Which is why it has taken me so long to reply. Im sorry.

We got a case in Maryland, which I remember you telling me, is where you live. I know I should probably just ask for your phone number but I kind of enjoy the emailing thing. It’s a lot less nerve racking because I can try to pass it off as professional, even though a lot of the time our conversations aren’t.

I actually don’t think we have ever had a professional conversation. Which is a good thing. I really enjoy our conversations no matter what we are talking about. I really enjoy talking to you.

I hope this isn’t too forward but I wanted to know if theres any chance I could see you while I’m in Maryland for this case. I don’t know when it would be or how long I’d be able to see you for, but I do really want to see you. If thats okay with you.

I guess I should give you my number, so you know I’m not some creepy old man. That would be ironic since I work at the FBI and my job is to stop people like that… I don’t know.

Heres my number, 023387677

Love, Spencer.

Your stomach tightened at the idea of seeing him in person. You never admitted it, but you knew he wasn’t an old man, you knew exactly who he was. You made the decision to google his name 6 months ago, when the two of you first started emailing back and forth after he accidentally sent a work email to the wrong person and you replied. It started as just telling him he had sent it to the wrong person, then he thanked you and apologised and made a joke and then the conversation just flowed.

You had been having conversations with Spencer Reid for six months and you felt like you knew more about him than you did yourself. He told you about his day, and about things he had been through, He opened up to you about his addiction and his mom and you opened up to him about your own trauma and issues.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and you had never met him. You had never even heard his voice. You only had seen his face on google when you searched up ‘Spencer reid FBI’ and a photo came up, he looked younger than you assumed in it, seeing the photo was from a few years ago. You felt slightly bad since you knew he could google you and probably come up empty handed — you had the upper hand.

You look at the clock as it inches closer to six o-clock when you finish work. A boring office job, you often complained to Spencer about. It was ironic since his job literally traumatised him, and yet you complained about the boring desk job, although he never ever compared, he would listen and comfort you after a bad day no matter what, just like you did for him.

You don’t reply to the email he sent as you typed the number he sent into your phone, saving the contact under ‘spence’ The nickname that had developed only weeks into the two of you talking. You send him a text, letting him know it was you, saying hi.

“Phone.” You hear your boss, warning you about using your phone at work, you lift your head an apologetic smile on your face as you close your phone, placing it face down on your desk as you close your email and return to your work after muttering out a sheepish, ‘Sorry!’

Spencer is sitting in a conference room of the police station in Maryland. He didn’t know it but he was only two blocks away from the office you worked. He never usually cared to check his phone while working — nothing could be as important as the case.

Until you, until now.

He found himself hanging out to feel the buzz in his pocket, he found himself checking his phone just in case maybe he missed the message. Just in case you did message.

He also checked his email a lot.

“Whats up with boy wonder?” Derek asked as he spun a chair to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of the chair as he looked around at the other team members. Spencer focus on anything other than the case.

“He gave mystery girl his number” Emily said, patting Spencers shoulder softly to get his attention as she walked past him, placing a coffee down in front of him. Spencer noticed how it was his normal order — despite the fact lately he had been getting your order, after he found out what it was. It made him feel a little bit closer to you.

“Oo, Okay lover boy.” Derek hummed approvingly, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked down at the boy. Spencer sighed as he let back in his chair, tossing his phone on the table as he checked to get no message. “Nothing yet?” Emily asked, knowing Spencer had been stressing since he sent the email on the jet, nearly two hours ago.

He didn’t know it hadn’t even delivered until a few minutes ago.

“Shes probably just busy” Spencer muttered as he checked his watch for the time. 5:33pm, you’d be at work.

Derek shared a look with Emily, both with teasing smiles on their faces. They had watched Spencer obsess over the girl for the past 6 months, even after he tried to hide it for the first few. He did a horrid job, they all noticed him smiling at his computer and typing away more often than ever, they noticed his focus slight adverted. It took a bit but they eventually got it out of him when you didn’t email him back for a week and he was going insane with worry that maybe you were ghosting him, or that you were hurt.

He confided in his team, you emailed him a few days later saying your wifi went down and none of your emails were going through. He was instantly relieved.

His phone buzzed on the table, 5:35pm. His hand instantly reached out for his phone. His eyes widened and his lip twitched upwards as he read the message that lit his screen.

“And lover boy is in” Derek whispered to Emily, loud enough that Spencer could hear that only ended up in Spencer sending him a glare, before typing out a reply and sending it, asking to call you tonight when he got finished.

“Alright, We got a lead” Hotch said entering the room.

You leant against the back of your head board, your hair wet and dripping down the back of your neck as you waited nervously for call to ring through your phone. You were almost terrified of what the conversation might hold. You were glad you were calling before you agreed or disagreed to meeting him, you could feel out whether or not it might be awkward or not.

You almost jumped out of your skin as your phone started ringing, anxiety pooled in your stomach as your skin flushed hot, causing the drops of water on the back of your neck feel as if it was burning the skin. You reached out for your phone that rested on your bed side table, answering the call.

“Hi.” You muttered out a breath of air. You couldn’t even help but smile as the realisation dawned on you. You were talking to Spencer. Finally, actually talking to him.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone before some shuffling. “Hold on” He mumbled out, you stomach fluttered at his voice as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you bit back a smile.

“Okay.” You said, you heard some more shuffling before the sound of a door closing, then a creek. And then a breath.

“Hi” He settled on, you sat up a bit, crossing your legs as his word came out almost breathy and nervous. It made your chest thump against your ribcage so much it ached. “Sorry— I should’ve waited till I was in my hotel room to call, I was excited— Sorry” He said.

You could hear the nerves in his voice and all it did was make your cheeks beat a rosy hue. “It’s okay. I was nervous” You admit softly, you try to hide the slight embarrassment in your voice but it fails you as your words come out small.

You hear him chuckle. You think the sound genuinely makes your mind fall empty of any coherent thoughts. “You don’t have to be nervous” He spoke so softly as if his words were an exhale he had been holding in.

“But I am” You muttered.

“Me too.” He said honestly. You found comfort in the fact he cared enough about this interaction to be nervous about it. You went to run your hand through your hair but paused with you felt the coldness — it was still very wet from your shower.

“Good” You sighed out, voice almost a whisper. You didn’t know why you were speaking so quietly, there was no one else in your house. There was no reason to be as quiet as you were.

“Is good that I’m nervous?” Spencer asked, you could hear the teasing in his voice. It made your head spin and the words get caught as you shook your head, before remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Yes- No- no. No.” You muttered out, “Its uh- Its not good that your nervous— I- Its just good that you care” You scrambled out, stuttering over your words as you grew flustered. It made you want to turn into your pillow and scream.

You heard him laugh, making your face screw up. “Shut up.” You muttered out as it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was laughing at you scrambling over your words, your free hand came up to cover your face as your cheeks felt on fire.

“No- Im sorry. Im sorry. Of course I care, you know I care” He said softly as he collected his laughter, his voice dripping honesty for a moment as he spoke genuinely in a way that made your knees feel weak — Thank god you weren’t standing. You were silent for a moment as a smile dawned on your face.

“Tell me about your day.” He requested gently. You heard some more shuffling you could only assume he was getting comfortable in bed. You pictured it and it made your stomach burn with longing. Wishing it wasn’t just an image in your head.

And you did, you told him about your day and he told you about yours; the conversation flowed simply and sweetly from then on. He teased you whenever you stuttered over your words, you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

You and him spoke until your voice was quiet and drowsy with sleep, until your eyes were fluttering shut and you went unresponsive for a moment before he asked if you were asleep and you would wake up to the sound of his voice, muttering out a no, to which he would chuckle, and tell you to go to sleep.

When you fell asleep, he waited ten minutes to make sure you were really asleep before hanging up. His heart full as he fell asleep smiling.

Sorry I fell asleep. If i didn’t throw you off completely and you still want to see me, im free any day after 6, when i finish work.

Spencer smiled at the message. The acceptance. You were accepting meeting him, seeing him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of anything you doing ever throwing him off. You had wiggled your way into his chest months ago, and you stayed consuming every part of him everyday since. He didn’t see that changing any day soon, or ever.

He sent you an address to a bar Derek suggested the team going to after work. He didn’t know if maybe it was too forward, or might be awkward with his team there, but at least if it didn’t go well there was people around.

He closed his phone as he waited for your reply, his mind replaying the conversation he had with you last night, how sweet you sounded, how your laugh made his heart clench, how whenever you said his name or spoke a little louder he felt light headed, unable to focus on anything but you.

There was anxiety in his stomach when he realised the two of you never quite talked about what it all meant. What the months of conversation back and forth was. He realised he didn’t know what you wanted. What you expected.

Maybe you just saw him as a friend, maybe to you the conversation is nothing more than friendly. Honestly, if that was the case Spencer didn’t think he would be able to deny you of that. He would do anything to keep you in his life, even if it caused a slight ache in his chest. He had told you things he couldn’t imagine telling anyone else, he trusted you in a way he didn’t know possible, and it may be stupid, maybe naive, but Spencer didn’t care.

The way he felt for you took over any ounce of doubt in his mind, it overtook the insecurity welling in his mind, that maybe you wouldn’t like him, not the way he liked you.

He had never felt so much for a person. He had never felt so much point blank. He could hardly fathom you feeling for him near the amount he felt for you.

Your hands traveled over your jeans softly as your palms grew sweaty as you stepped inside the bar. Thanking the guy you held it open for you as he walked out. You were instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people, the music playing and the people chatting. You probably should have gotten changed first instead of coming straight after work but you were too nervous and didn’t want to give yourself time to dwindle in your insecurities then chicken out.

You manoeuvred your way through the people, quiet apologies leaving your lips as you looked around for Spencer, or anyone who looks like they might be an FBI agent.

What does an FBI agent look like? you thought, as you let out a sigh, finally getting out of the crowd of people as you got to the back of the bar, a lot more free of space. A few people around, standing at tables. You skimmed over for a moment as you tried to catch any glimpse of the boy that you could.

You heard your name, making you spin on your heels. You saw a dark haired girl smiling at you. Well that isn’t spencer.

“Yes?” You said, smiling at her as you tried to hide the anxiety building in your veins. Your hand coming to push hair off your face softly as you try to focus on the girl in front of you. She grins widely, “Spencer is over there, you looked like you were looking for someone…” She said, my smile instantly widened as you looked over to where she nudged her head.

your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes settled on him, the photo didn’t do him justice in any way. His hair was messy and slightly grown out, he was engrossed in a conversation with who you could only assume was Derek Morgan, who Spencer had told you about. His tie was crooked in his suit as he lifted his arm to sip the drink in his hand.

you tear my eyes away as you look at the lady who is smiling at you. “Happy with that?” She asks. It takes you a moment to recognise her as Emily, whom Spencer had also told you about. You can hardly put it into words how your chest feels like its gonna explode as your heart thumps.

“He is gorgeous.” You breathe out, shaking your head as words fail you, your eyes trail back to him for a moment to see him laughing, you see his head turn towards the door, as if he is waiting for you to walk through them.

Emily smiles, patting your shoulder softly, “Cmon Mystery girl” She said, you pay little attention to the nickname as she encourages you to walk towards the table with her. Your legs feel like Jelly with every step that you take, your stomach twisting in the familiar feeling of anxiety.

When she pauses at the table your breath hitches. “Oi Reid” She mutters, both he and Derek turns their head towards her, “Look who I found” She says softly, hand brushing over your shoulder.

Spencers eyes skip over to yours and you watch an emotion pull his features. An emotion you can’t quite place and it makes your stomach ache at the uncertainty, insecurity creeping up the back of your neck.

“Hi” You breathe out as you look at him. Theres a moment of silence before he is pushing away from the table and walking around to you. His arms around you the moment you are in reach and it makes your muscles tense slightly before relaxing completely in his hold as you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back.

Emily and Derek watch in amusement for a moment, smiling when they see the look on Spencer’s face. The one you couldn’t place the one they knew all too well.

He was in love.

He was in love before seeing you, he knew that but watching you stand there grinning at him made him all the more sure about it. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled back from the hug to look at your face.

“Hi” He whispered back.

You chewed at your lip at you bit back the wide smile that tried to force its way into your features. His hand traveled up to your face before he could stop it hand cupping your face gently.

You eased, leaning into his touch the warmth of his hand feeling gentle against the soft skin of your cheek. “Y-You- I- Hi.” He stuttered this time.

You grinned, “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, teasing him like he would every-time you stuttered over the phone. He just grins in response.

“No. You’re beautiful” He said, eyes dancing over your face, he looked at you like he was trying to memories every little detail. Your stomach tightens and your knees felt weak as the compliment left his mouth. You had been told that before, but it felt different coming from him. He said it with honesty and sincerity.

“So are you” You said back before hugging him tightly again. He didn’t complain at all, instead his arms fell tightly around your waist as he held you against him, as if he was scared that if he let go you would disappear.

The night went on, you stayed by spencer’s side, his hand on yours or around your shoulder gently as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you being next to him. You never complained — you took it all as a compliment and leant into his touch.

“Are you cold?” Spencer asked as you and him walked outside of the bar, hand in hand. he noticed the way you shivered as the cold hair hit the skin of your bare arms. You turn your head to look up at him, the look in his eye enough to make your chest clench around the fat of your heart.

“A little” You admit. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, but spencer was instantly pulling off his suit jacket for you, slugging it gently over your shoulders as the two of you walked down the street. You paused in your steps as you looked up at him.

“Thank you.” You say.

“Its okay- I don’t want you to be cold” He said softly. You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness, but you shook your head. “For that too— But I meant, for asking to see me. Thank you for thinking of me when you heard about where the case was — for talking to me everyday. Thank you for being my best friend Spence” You said softly as you lean against your car as you and him stop in front of it.

His lip twitches upwards into a smile as his hand drops yours instead resting softly on your lips. “I always think of you.” He admits, eyes on yours.

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. “Spencer.” You say softly.

He looks at you, really looks at you. He is seeing you. He is seeing every little thing you have told him over the last six months, every little detail about you there was to know, and all he could think about was he wanted more, he wanted to know you more.

“Yeah?” He says, his voice a whisper.

You feel anxiety pool in your stomach as the question lingers on the tip of your tongue. There was a pull towards him you couldn’t ignore, the same pull you felt when you received his email, six months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago. You’d count the hours but you figured that was more his style.

“You can say no, I want you to know that” You said, you wanted to make it perfectly clear that his response to this was completely up to him and you didn’t want to feel pressured. “Can I kiss you?” You ask.

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the question. One hand of his travelling to the small of your back to bring you in closer while the other tangles in your hair, cradling the back of your neck. Your hands instantly cup his face as you press your lips against him. Your lips together saying more than words ever could.

This, right here, him, right now.

It was everything and more.

2K notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober day 16

Curly (Mouthwashing) + food play

Guess whos got Mouthwashing brainrot. This guy. I love me a psychological horror game that im too scared to play myself, so I watch manlybadasshero play it. I love curly, and I love angst and horror, so here we go.

tw for vague mentions of what happens in the game, and Curly losing his mind.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Sunlight passed in through the slim windows in your shared apartment, the radio playing some tune you didn’t know the name off. Most music nowadays was made by AI, generating what seemed to be popular at that very moment, so it was never worth learning the names, not when most were just a line of numbers and letters.

Your socked feet carry you silently across the carpet, a serving tray in your hands as you carefully push the door open. The apartment was ancient by todays standards, but it had windows that let you see the actual sun, and not just the artificial one they used so people wouldn’t go crazy. It did result in having doors you actually had to open, instead of sliding doors.

Seeing your husband laid out on the bed made it all worth it though, the sliver of sunlight brushing against his skin and making his blonde hair look like gold. Curly was going on another delivery in a weeks time and would be gone for about eight months to a year. It might have sounded extreme, but in this day and age it was normal, especially for you two, who were working class.

Luckily you had a job that paid okay, but not enough to support you both, and your lover had such a draw to the stars. This also meant you two had been going at it like rabbits, to be able to sate yourselves until you met again.

The tray was placed on the bedside table, a sleepy smile pulling at Curly’s lips as you crawl up the bed, pressing soft kissing all the way up his spine. “Morning captain” you murmur against his neck, where you bury your face and inhale deeply, simply taking in the smell that was him.

His hand lazily reaches back and runs through your hair, a sleepy hum leaving his lips as Curly seems to melt further into the sheets, a long relaxed exhale leaving him. “mornin…” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes as he felt your chest press against his back.

Mornings like this with you were Curly’s favourite, where he just got to indulge himself in all that he loved. A small yelp did jump out of him as he felt something run down his back, your chuckle making him grumble and finally glance back at you, his blue eyes parted just enough to see you.

Curly huffed a little as he watched and felt you lick syrup up from the crevice of his spine, your tongue flicking out and lapping against every knob of his spine that you could feel. He sighed and arched his back a little as you got further down, flattening your tongue against the dimple of his back and giving a wet suck, slurping up the syrup that had collected there.

“Sweet, like you” you mumble against his skin, shooting him a cheesy wink as he grunts at your stupid joke. He was more than willing to lift his hips though, as you started working his boxers down, Curly twitching again as you tilted more of the syrup against his skin.

Had he not been so sleepy and hot inside already, he might have complained as he felt the thick syrup run down between his cheeks, against his fluttering hole, which still felt sensitive from the multiple rounds you’d had the day before.

Your tongue licking against it was like a Band-Aid, but also kindling upon the fire in his gut. Curly shuddered and hummed softly into the pillow, hips lazily rocking back against your tongue as you licking and tasted all he had to offer.

Curly could feel you pouring more of the syrup on him, and part of his brain wondered if you had bought it, just to use it for this. Sugary items weren’t the cheapest, so it did fluster him a little more, knowing you most likely had saved up just to lick it off him. It made the familiar pulsing hardness between his legs dribble against the sheets, his hips rocking more intently against the bed.

“My pretty captain” you coo against his hole, only to follow it up with another wet suckle and slurp. One of your hands rubbed at his thigh, as the other pulled one of his cheeks, opening him up more for your hungry tongue and mouth.

You both knew you could have just pressed inside him, seeing as he was most definitely still loose from the day before. But the act of getting to lick him out and taste him like this was part of the fun, to feel Curly rut against the bed, but also back against your face, the taste of your spend from the day before, of Curly, and of the sweet syrup, flooded your senses.

It wasn’t the real syrup, the stuff they got from trees. Someone on your salary could never dream of even tasting the stuff, but it was a replacement version. It tasted a bit fake, but it was better than the cheap stuff. Add that to the taste of your lovers hole and his desperate panting, then it became a five star meal.

Curly let out a shaky keened noise as you finally pulled back, the blonde glancing over his shoulder again to watch as you slowly crawled back up again, pressing your chest against his back once more. “I love you” you mumble against his neck, grabbing yourself at the base to push inside him, Curly opening up with ease from all your prep.

“I love… you too” he gasped out, having to catch his breath as he felt your tip press expertly against his prostate. You had learned how to play him like a fiddle a while ago, back when you two were younger, and he was still studying to become a captain of a ship, and you had just started your career. You had both been so clumsy at the time, laughing and embarrassed, trying to figure it all out.

He let out a breathless giggle as you poured more lines of syrup against his back, licking it up from between his shoulders and up to his neck. “you’ll get it in my hair” he snickered, burying his face into the pillow once more as your hips worked together, his more desperate than yours.

“We can just take a bath” you reply, your voice rougher than before as you hold yourself up with your hands, moving your hips in rougher strokes, knowing that Curly liked it that way, to have his prostate struck over and over until he was wailing.

Neither of you really wanted to go far enough for Curly to start clawing at the bed, lost in tears of pleasure and fucked so good he couldn’t form a thought. At least, not now, not when he had just woken up, instead you stuck to suckling the sweet substance off his skin, the flavour mixing with the salty tang of his sweat.

Curly was the first to spill, his noises growing higher in pitch as his hips rocked in short quick strokes, downright humping the bed but also trying to jump back against you. Your captain got too desperate sometimes, no matter how many times you guys did this. He was normally too nice and too selfless, and times like this were the only time he allowed himself to be selfish.

His noises melted in a drawn out keen, which turned into a deeper guttural groan, his hips grinding hard against the sheets as he spurted all over it, your hips grinding against his from the back to push him further against it. “Good, so good. So good for me Curly” you pant, rutting against him a few more times before spilling inside him, adding to the mess that had mostly been licked up by yourself.

You both laid there, pressed against each other and panting, trying to catch your breaths and basking in the glow of being together. When he caught his breath, Curly lifted himself from the pillow, which now had some spit and tear stains as a result of his pleasure. His lips slotted against yourself, Curly smirking lazily at the sweet taste on your tongue. It tasted so good, even if he didn’t normally like the stuff, but on your tongue anything tasted divine.

…

A rattly exhale left his teeth, as there weren’t really any lips left to breathe through. Curly’s one eye was blurry as he stared up at the same ceiling he had been staring at for who knows how long. His mind had been slipping more and more lately. Every waking moment was pain, and whenever he slept, he dreamed of you.

Every now and then he swore he could taste syrup, even amongst the horrible taste of bile, blood, and the pain medication Jimmy force-fed him. Maybe the pain and isolation were finally catching up, his pained limbs thrashing weakly against the bed. Not because of pain, even if it was ever present. But because he longed for you. he longed for your eyes, your lips, your hands, your love. Anything to carry him through this… this guilt and pain.

Would you still want him, like this? You had always loved his hair, his eyes, you had always loved his handsome features. And what was he now, other than the sad pathetic remains of a man who deserved to die. But he couldn’t die, not yet, not when he had promised to return to you.

He could almost hear you. your loving voice which filled him with longing. Calling out for him, loving him, comforting him through the worst of his pains. Curly… my captain… Curly, Curly, Curly, C- “Curly?” a soft voice broke through the visions and illusions, at least most of them.

He couldn’t turn his head well, but Anyas face was familiar as it leant over him. She looked exhausted and like she had aged ten years from the stress of it all. She seemed relieved but also saddened to see him still alive, like part of her had hoped he would die peacefully in his sleep. “I don’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore, Curly. Its not your fault, but I can’t-“ she stuttered, voice shuddering and eyes glossy.

Hearing the rattle of the pill bottle in her hand made it all make sense. Poor Anya, another victim of Curly and his inability to do anything right. He wasn’t made at her, he hoped the few gurgles he could let out before the pain got too extreme expressed that. Her smile was so tired, one of her hands resting on his bandage covered bicep, before she slowly sank to the floor.

Curly could hear her breathing slowing down, even above his own raspy pained wheezing. If he blurred his vision enough, and let himself slide deeper into his mind, away from most of the pain, then he could hear your breathing too. He could feel it puffing against the back of his neck, your mouth pressing against his shoulder, up his neck to his chin, and against his lips.

The door opened with a whoosh, Curly only truly registering that time had passed from the look on Jimmys face, and how the room had started to smell more of death than before. Even as Jimmy lifted him, Curly still tasted sugar. He tasted you. he could almost see you leaning over the table, your loving smile on your face, even as more pain burned through his leg. Even as it all blurred more and more. Even as everything grew cold, and he heard Jimmy finally take responsibility, as you looked back at him through the glass.

He tasted syrup.

1K notes · View notes

kaidatheghostdragon · 10 months ago

Text

Jury Duty

Danny has been living his best life in Gotham, hiding from the GIW but mostly moving forward with his life. (College, job, whatever)

Until his name is drawn for jury duty.

He complains to his friends. They bring up a few interesting points. Shouldnt being dead disqualify him? Eventually the anti ecto acts are brought up. Can the government enforce jury duty on a citizen that was declared legally non-sentient?

Now, it might not have been danny's smartest idea, but he replies to the summons with a "cant, i died," attaching a copy of the anti ecto acts and a short argument that its hypocritical of the government to strip him of his rights but still expect him to fulfill his civic responsibilities.

Whatever government desk job gets danny's reply to the summons thinks its a joke at first (theyre no stranger to the colorful and creative excuses people come up with to try to get out of jury duty), but danny provided all the right paperwork and instructions for them to jump through all the hoops necessary to locate the obscure law. They send it higher up the chain of command.

But this is Gotham. After several days of ruminating over the strange law, they decide to leave a tip on the bats' hotline (set up and maintained by Oracle). The whole situation felt a bit left of reality, and they weren't paid enough to deal with that shit. And if the government really was the problem here (look, they might have landed a secure government-funded desk job, but they were a grunt and held no loyalty to the government that continuously screwed over their home city), then merely passing the buck meant it would get covered up instead of exposed.

Oracle gets the message and starts digging, determining that this is A Big Problem, Actually. First order of business is to track down this Danny guy and give him a bat-level security detail. Second order is to push this to the Justice league.

The thing is, the giw had successfully hidden themselves from the justice league up until now. They covered their tracks, took care of loose ends. The laws were written to look like pest control.

They never considered that someone would respond to a jury duty sommons with "cant, im dead." First of all, they dont know about halfas, who could be dead without ever being legally declared. Secondly, why would a ghost pretend to be alive? Thirdly, why would they blow their cover? ("Sir, its *jury duty.*" "point withdrawn.")

It was pure chance that the desk job took it seriously enough to report it, and oracle only recognized the threat as it was because she made the logical leap from ectoplasm to lazarus water.

The bats investigate by intercepting danny's summons. Fortunately, the higher up decided it was a joke and didnt share it any further. Unfortunately, they told danny that he better show up for jury duty, come hell or high water.

That route blocked, they hack in a jury summons for jason todd. Being Actually Legally Dead, with all the paperwork correctly filed, means that he would never actually get a summons, but they need someone on this inside that clearly falls into the same category as danny to keep a close eye on him.

Anyways, this was a long and twisted set up to get not one, but two individuals in the same jury duty line up claiming they "cant, i died."

#dp x dc #probably a stupid idea #inspired by the post that said:#danny “cant i died” fenton vs jason “cant im dead” todd

1K notes · View notes

nanivinsmoke · 4 months ago

Text

❥ DADDY’S DEALINGS

patch!wolverine (logan) x fem!reader

summary ❥ dont fuck with him while he’s working. you knew that, but what happens when you try to fuck on him during work?

warnings: telekinetic reader & code name is diamond, mentions of blood, semi-public sex (in an empty casino), multiple orgasms, creampies, hair pulling, choking, spanking, teasing, rough sex

note: round two, enjoy! wc: 2.7k, m.list here

men in suits sat at the round poker table. laughing, smoking and having a grand ole time. it seemed like a regular poker night with friends, however it was not. all these men were successful businessmen, but one of them was tonight’s target.

and the two of you were here to uncover who that was. patch sat at the table, keeping a blank face while playing the game. however, he was really reading the room. trying to find one slip up so he could take whomever out.

and he couldn’t do it alone, that’s why you were here. you were the distraction, a man’s weakness was a beautiful woman and that you were. the ruby red spaghetti strapped dress clung to you like another set of skin, catching the eyes of the men in there when you walked in. the gleam of your jewelry blinded them, but the scent of your perfume as you passed by only made them want you even more.

you sat at the bar, ordering something light, not wanting anything to get you drunk, but enough to give you a little buzz. you turned in your and watched the game of poker progress, while glancing at patch.

he looked so good sitting there. muscles flexing each time he moved a chip, thick fingers covered in rings—which you wished were deep inside of you, splitting you open—and the eyepatch that was slapped across his face and covered one of his beautiful hazel eyes; still made him even more sexier than ever.

you couldn’t help but to press your thighs together, mind starting to cloud with lewd thoughts of him bottoming out inside of you. until you were snapped out of your daze by the bartender handing you your drink.

you sighed, sipping on the fruity drink you ordered and taking in your surroundings, hoping the target for tonight’s mission would fuck up and show themselves; so you could finally go home and have hot sweaty sex with patch.

however, as time passed, you realized you were going to be here for a while. the game still went on and nobody moved an inch, boring you to death. but, as you sipped on your third drink for the night, you were hornier than ever. you were dripping, aching for some attention and you were going to get it.

the mission was far from your mind as you got up from the bar and sashayed over to the table, standing between patch and another gentleman , before bending over—your cleavage catching the attention of the other man, while your presence gained the attention of your partner. “mind if i join in?” you asked and the stranger got up from his seat in a hurry.

“you can take my spot miss. im losing anyways,” you smiled and sat down, taking his spot and looking down at your cards. you could feel patch boring holes into your face, but you paid him no mind. you knew you weren’t supposed to interfere with his mission unless he wanted you to, but you didn’t care. you had your own mission to worry about.

“you look a little empty there, can i buy you a refill?” you asked him, leaning over to get in his personal space, so you could whisper in his ear. “ ‘m horny. take me home?”

he glared at you before throwing out one of his cards, “no. busy, working.” you whined and sat back in your chair, following suit and throwing out cards as well. you flagged down a waiter and ordered a margarita, telling him to keep it coming before trying to focus on the game in front of you.

however, the more you sat next to him the more aroused you became. it didn’t help that his cologne turned you on, you wanted to pounce on him right then and there. you slid your heeled foot next to his, teasing him by rubbing it against him—only for him to pull his away. he grunted in response, but never turning to look at you.

you weren’t going to give up either. using your powers, you made the waiter bringing your drink, trip causing him to crash into another waiter, making a big commotion; which distracted the other players. using this as an opportunity to speak to him again, you whispered in his ear—voice soft and sexy.

“please, fuck me. need you so bad” he could smell how bad you wanted him, the moment you sat down, but he didn’t have time for that right now. a new scent took over his nose and he glanced around the room, spotting an older man walking in the room; with two girls on each of his arms and two guards behind him. “they’re here. focus.”

by now the waiter had cleaned up his mess and came back with a fresh drink, handing it to you and apologizing for the first one. you sent him a smile before dismissing him, sipping on the cold drink—watching the new player join the game. he sat across from you and you flashed him a smile, immediately gaining his attention.

the male whispered to his guards, before one of them came over to you. “the gentleman over there wants to know if you could sit next to you and could he buy you another drink?” you glanced at him and he winked. smiling at him, you nodded your head and the guy made his way over; dismissing the women.

he sat next to you and you smiled, taking a look at every detail of his face. he was attractive and you couldn’t help smirk to yourself. you knew exactly how to get patch to pay attention towards you.

“what can I get you to drink?” he asked and you slightly turned towards him, putting out the last of your cards, losing the game. “scotch, on the rocks.”

he smiled in amusement, not many of the girls he came across liked dark liquors. “not good at poker?” you shook your head and he smiled, motioning for the dealer to bet him in. “i’ll teach a pretty lil thing like you how to play. name's richard, but you can call me, dick.”

“diamond,” you moved your chair closer to his, glancing over at patch an evil glint in your eyes. you were playing a dangerous game and you were ready for the consequences. as he taught you how to play, patch watched with a clench jaw. he wanted to rip the guys head off for even talking to you, but he knew what was at stake. all he needed was the guy to touch you and he’d take him out right then and there.

“got a boyfriend diamond?”

“complicated,” that slipped off your tongue too fast for patch’s liking, making him grunt loudly, gaining the attention of dick. “is there a problem?”

“focus on the game, bub.” dick chuckled and stared at patch, wondering who the hell he was. and before he could fix his mouth to say something, your drinks came; gaining his attention. you thanked the waiter and held up your glass, lipstick spreading when you smiled.

“you gonna teach me or what?” you got up from your seat, the frame of your body being outlined by your dress, made his breath get caught in his throat—eyes glued to every curve, watching as you sat down on his lap. the way you sat gave you full view of patch, who was seething. and when dick placed his hand on your hip, he had enough. he jumped up, claws unsheathing, sticking them into richard’s guards—their blood splattering against his white suit.

the people in the private casino scurried away in a hurry, trying to make sure they’re not next to get taking out. more of dick’s guards came running in, guns in their hands, ready to attack—until you appeared in front of them. “sorry boys, you’re not getting through.” you sent them flying into the other room, crashing against the slot machines; knocking them out cold. and for good measure, you picked one up and dropped it on them.

one’s that slipped past were slice up by patch, their bodies dropping at dick’s patent shoes. patch huffed, eyes glued onto richard’s.

“you fucking b—.” his head was sliced clean off, dropping next to the pile of bodies. the rugged man didn’t have time for monologues, he was pissed. pissed at you. the people that were still hiding in the room, peeked their heads out; hoping that it was safe, yet there were proven wrong by the feral looking man in front of them.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” his claws retracted and they all ran out, not trying to be the next person to piss him off. you tried sneaking out with them, only for him to grab you, slinking you over his shoulder. “baby! wait—fuck!” he said nothing and sent a hard smack to your ass, the vibration from it made the stinging sensation linger a little longer. oh you were in for it.

he slapped everything off of the poker table before propping you up on there, your hands and knees pressing into the plush green surface. he hiked your dress up to the middle of your back, grunting when he seen the wet spot in the middle of your black panties. with another powerful smack to your ass, you yelped out, only for him to grip your hair—pulling you towards his chest.

“like having that jerk feel up on you. he makes you wet?” his hand massaged your cheeks, easing the stinging sensation he caused. you whimpered and shook your head, “no baby—only you.”

he slapped both of your cheeks, the wet spot on your panties growing by the second as he took his frustrations out on you. it was one thing to try and sabotage the mission, he’d deal with that later, but to sit on another man’s lap in front of him? oh you deserved this punishment.

you were practically drooling, from both sets of lips, while he continued the torment on your ass—his hand prints now molded on your cheeks. he moved his hand from your hair and slid it down to your cunt, pressing two of his fingers against your clit; your slick immediately seeping through the fabric and onto his fingers.

he grunted and massaged his finger on your clit, eliciting whines from you. you backed your ass up in his palm, trying to add some more friction to your cunt, but he stopped you.

“ ‘m in charge here, doll.” you could hear the clinking of his belt buckle and it excited you. from the way he manhandle you and forced your back down, deepening your arch, you knew he was going to fuck you so good.

your panties were pulled down, exposing your bare—slick coated cunt to him and he let out a low groan. he took your panties and brought it up to his nose, smelling your arousal; his cock becoming stiff behind his boxers—before he reached around and placed them into your mouth.

your moans were muffled as you turned your head slightly to see him pull his underwear down, revealing his fat beer can shaped cock. he fisted his cock for a bit, globs of his precum coating his hand, before he pushed through your entrance; your juices coating his dick immediately.

he didn’t even need to prep you to take him, you were beyond soaked, making it easier for him to slide ride in—rubbing right against your spot. “fuck. gotta keep this pussy to myself.”

you moaned into your panties, while he gripped the side of your hips and began to pound your pussy, splitting you open with each stroke. your ass rippled against him and you struggled to throw it back on him, causing him to smack one of your plump cheeks.

“f-fuck me back…..atta girl,” you started to bounce back on him, the poker table shaking with each thrust. your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure so unspeakably intense. he knew exactly how to hit your spot with each thrust, which made your legs shake uncontrollably and an orgasm course through you prematurely.

he felt you clench around him and he stopped his movements, pulling out of you slowly; your bottom lip trembling as you turned to look at him. “did you just fucking cum?” you nodded and his eyes darkened. before you could even process what was happening, you were on your back with ankles pointing up to the ceiling.

the red dress that was hiked up was now on the bar not too far away from you both, and your soiled panties were finally removed from your mouth, allowing you to finally moan freely, as he plunged back into your sopping wet cunt.

he was abusing your cunt each time his cock pistoned in and out of you, cock bullying your walls, sending bolts of electricity towards your clit. you reached down and tried to rub the sensitive bud, but he slapped your hands away causing you to cry out. “nope. you wanted this dick, so that’s what you’re gonna get. got it?” you nodded your pretty little head, earning a powerful smack to your cunt—making you gush around him.

“words. i wanna hear it.”

“yes! yes! fuck—daddy. you’re so deep!” rough calloused hand found its way around your throat, turning you on even more. the look on his face, the way his cock filled you up and how he treated you like his fuck toy, had you wanting more.

the squelching sound that followed when he was balls deep inside of you, made that knot in your stomach become tighter. you were so close and with him twitching inside of you, you knew he was too.

with the help of your powers, you brought him closer to you. his white, blood stained blazer pressed against your breasts, adding some stimulation to your tender nipples; which helped speed up your orgasm. you whimpered, staring into his uncovered eye, cumming for the second time; without him.

specks of white blurred your vision as you came undone. the grip around his shaft, tightening with each thrust that hit your spot over and over again.

he was pissed. first you tried to ruin the mission and had some guy all over you, but now you came twice? oh he was more than pissed.

his grip around your neck loosened and he moved his hand up to your cheeks, gripping them; causing them to puff up in his hands. his stroke was faster and deeper, practically kissing your cervix—making you whine out.

“ ‘s too much! please daddy, can’t take it.” you were able to huff out, but he ignored your pleas, still treating you like a common slut.

“gonna breed this pussy. have you dripping cum for days when im done with you—let everyone know who owns this pussy.” he pounded deeper, his vision getting blurry and his stroke becoming sloppier; before he let go—emptying himself deep inside of you.

he let out a primal growl, sporadically twitching inside of you, before pulling out, globs of his cum slowly starting to pool out; until he plugged it back in with his fingers. you squirmed, but he held you down, making you take the extra pleasure—leading to squirting against his palm.

the wet gushy mess, combined with the previous fluids, stained the plush green fabric underneath you and the bottom of his blazer. patch removed his fingers and sucked your juices off, before he pulled his pants up and snapped his belt on. he pulled your panties back on and walked over to the bar to retrieve your dress, tossing it at you.

“get dressed. you’re punishment isn't over yet.”

#logan smut #PSYKINKTOBER #logan howlett smut #patch wolverine #patch wolverine x reader #patch wolverine smut #patch wolverine oneshot #patch wolverine x you #patch wolverine x y/n #wolverine smut #wolverine variant #logan wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan x reader smut

624 notes · View notes

thirteenducks · 1 year ago

Text

feverish

(wriothesley x wife!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to by ‘wife’ and "she/her"), established relationship, marriage, reader has hair long enough to reach neck

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.5k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic, banter while sick, this is just wrio taking care of you and being a butt while doing it, feat. sigewinne who does not get paid enough for this, if you are sick and reading this rn im so sorry and i hope you get well soon, coldsink wrio x heatsource wife agenda

༻❁༺ author’s note: my friend @mmmairon is sick and i am in another country and cannot help so i'm sending wrio on my behalf. pls enjoy especially if you don't feel well right now :(

After a restless night, Wriothesley is thrilled to hear that you're awake now. He wastes no time in rushing to your side.

Wriothesley’s pen scratches unpleasantly against a disciplinary notice, its point threatening to carve into the wood of the desk beneath. The owner mutters darkly under his breath as he completes a signature on the offending paper and slides it to his left. Immediately, another takes its place from the stack on his right.

For two hours, nothing else has broken the quiet of the Duke’s office. Two hours too long, by Wriothesley’s measure. He glances at the clock, hand continuing to sign his name by sheer muscle memory.

Are you getting any rest? Did the chamomile from your tea an hour ago help at all, or are the throes of fever keeping you awake? Does he have the right ingredients to make you beef stew? Preoccupied, he writes “soup” on the signature line of a prisoner release form by mistake.

He sighs, pinching the crooked bridge of his nose between his fingers. They’re as cold as ever. He misses the warmth of yours unspeakably.

The next thirty minutes pass like an eternity. Surely, Sigewinne would be at his side in an instant if you were awake. His presence there now would only serve to wake you from much-needed rest and defer his backlog of paperwork even more. Neither of these points keeps him from staring the clock down like he’s in the ring again.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Wriothesley snaps to attention, nearly knocking over an inkwell in his haste. Sigewinne enters without his bidding, an unreadable expression on her kind face. She doesn’t wait for his question before she answers it.

“Yes, the tea put her to sleep, and yes, she’s awake now.”

His features relax in a moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing.

“I’m afraid she’s not any better than she was this morning, however. I would have really liked to see her fever come down by now...” The Melusine trails off, her small hand on her chin and a pout on her face. “The chill probably isn’t doing her much good, either.”

Her boss, however, is already halfway downstairs, pulling his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time. Sigewinne sighs as she turns to follow him at a much slower pace. So predictable when his wife is involved.

In contrast to the speed at which he crosses the fortress to your shared living quarters, Wriothesley’s steps are soft as he nears your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart? Are you up?”

A weak cough answers him. He’s by the bedside in a moment, kneeling and pushing aside the curtain that hides you from him. Your eyes squint a bit as the sickly light of the fortress filters in, and his hand moves up to shield your face as he appears in your field of vision.

Despite the red ringing your eyes and nose and the congestion in your breathing, you smile up at him and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“Hi, darling.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Hi. Feeling any better?”

You shake your head slightly, your hair fanning out on the pillow beneath you. He silently gathers it in one hand and moves it away from your neck as he waits for you to continue. The brush of his cool hand against your flushed skin feels incredible and you bring your hand to rest on his, a silent entreaty to keep it there.

“Sigewinne says I’m in the worst of it now and that from here-” you stop to cough, Wriothesley’s eyes raking over your frame as it shakes with the effort. “-from here it should be uphill. As long as I can rest up today.”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead with his other hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “Well, we’ll have to stick it out until tomorrow then, huh?” The grin he shoots you, all teeth, does more for you than you think any of the medicine on your bedside table has.

That’s why you’re as surprised as he is when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t even known they were there until now, but suddenly it’s so much harder to breathe than it was and Wriothesley is a swimming blur in front of you. The shooting pain in your head, dulled to an ache until now, comes back in full force as your body curls in on itself and your temple meets your husband’s shoulder.

You don’t know if you’re crying from the headache, from exhaustion, or from something else, and your mind is too foggy to care. All you can do is be held as his arms come to rest firmly around you and he pulls you to him, murmuring words of comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry... I wish I could do more.” Your hands grip his collar a little tighter as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know, love. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Sigewinne and I are gonna take care of everything, okay?”

There’s an edge of concern to his voice that you can hear even through the haze of sickness. You hate it. It’s likely just the seasonal flu; half the Fortress has had it at some point this winter. The thought of how much you were making him worry over something so small as this...

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” Wriothesley gently reprimands, his cool fingers stroking your forehead again. You can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against the heated skin. “You’re not being a baby about anything. You hear me?”

Your silence speaks volumes. He laughs a little, the sound loud in the silence of your bedroom. “I know you well, don’t I?”

It takes a while for your tears to completely subside. When you’re finished sniffling against his collar, he props you up against the headboard with pillows behind your back. You’re more congested than ever, something your husband has the nerve to laugh at as he hands you tissues, but there’s no unkindness in his tone.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes as you doze, exhausted from the effort of crying for so long. When he eases the door open again, he’s carrying a tray with a teacup and pot (of course) and a bowl of something that smells warm and comforting.

“Hmm. Excellent room service this place has. The waiter is a little scruffy, though,” you say as Wriothesley places it on your lap, tucking in the covers around you.

He gives you a fake look of injury. “How dare you, ma’am. I’ll have you know I’m too worried about my wife to shave, who I’m afraid is deathly ill,” he sighs, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He spoons soup into your mouth before you can retort, stifling a smile.

Once you’ve drained half the soup, Wriothesley seems satisfied. He removes the tray from your lap and takes your hand, bringing it to his own forehead.

“Oh, no. How awful.” He shoots you a glance. “It appears the Duke of the Fortress has come down with something.”

You raise an eyebrow. His forehead is as cool as the rest of him is. “Really.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, flopping onto your lap. “It looks like he’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

You laugh, wincing when it makes your head throb. “The Duke sounds like a slacker, if you ask me.”

“Well, everyone knows that,” Wriothesley murmurs, burying his face into your thigh. “They’ll have to tell my boss about it.” You feel him grin against your leg.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “What a shame. I was just about to ask him to dinner, too.”

Wriothesley has migrated to his side of the bed by now and is nestling into your side with the stubbornness of a dog. “Don’t worry, I hear he’s a messy eater. Absolute carnivore.”

Your hands come to rest on his head, the soft grey strands tickling your palms. “You know you’re going to get sick, right? I’m highly contagious.”

No answer.

“You’re the head of the Fortress, Wrio. If you get laid up, Sigewinne might put a bounty out on you. She seems like the type.”

Your husband murmurs into your side, already half-asleep. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Despite your many blankets and the body next to you, a sudden chill runs through you and you stiffen. He feels it, arms tightening around your waist.

“Fever pills are on the bedside in the white bottle. Water is next to it.”

You smile. “Thank you, darling.” He hums in response.

A few days later, you’re well enough to leave your room again. Sigewinne would be thrilled, if not for your husband, who looks more smug than any sick man has a right to be.

He sniffles, burrowing into your sheets again as the Melusine glares daggers at him. “I’ll be fine. My wife loves me and I have leftover soup in the fridge. What else does a man need?”

#wriothesley #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #fem!reader #mairon if u see this please feel better #this is also lowkey for me the next time i get sick #just planning ahead ig #anyway. simp wrio agenda

1K notes · View notes

trulyy-yourzz · 3 months ago

Note

Hii mami

how you doing today ? I have an idea

can you make one where r is Billie’s teacher and has a husband (shes secretly a lesbian)but Billie doesn’t gaf and wants her but r keeps saying no so one day Billie pulls up at r house pretending having tutoring lessons with her and ends up fucking r at her house while her husband is here (they don’t get caught btw)

im in no rush honey

take ur time

ilyyy

♡smut. - B.E x fem!reader

Hi babyy! I was wondering where you had disappeared too. But back again with the wonderful ideas I see 🤭 ilyy! Enjoy love

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You loved your husband. You really did. But the journey through marriage was the one thing that made you realize sudden... changes.

For a few years now, you have taught physiology for the longest. It was one of your favorites back when you were in university. Even though you often got clowned for it.

But you especially loved teaching that class because of one particular girl..

Billie.

She was everyone's favorite. They loved her for who she was and how she was with others. There was not one negative thing about her... she was perfect from her dark silky hair to her diamond like eyes to her odd but very attractive choice of clothing.

You tried to push her away. You really did. But the more she interacted with you, the more attraction you felt towards her. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn't intercept. A strong knot you couldn't untie.

You were at your desk, lost in thought while everyone was too focused on an assignment or having their own conversations.

You stared at your laptop, biting on your nail as you scrolled through your emails mindlessly. You had applied to teach at a more professional position at your school and hadn't gotten an email back yet when you should've around this time.

You rested your face in the palm of your hands, sighing deeply.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, a soft voice calling your name. So you looked up and she smiled when you saw her. Her smile was a grin that challenged the boundaries of her face. And bright eyes that practically hypnotized you without the entiention to.

"Hi babe, feeling okay?" You loved the way she talked to you... loved the way she called you those cute little nicknames in that arousing tone that turned you on more than it should've. You had a husband.

You had everything any other woman could want.. a big house, a stable job that paid good money, and a loving man who cherished and spoiled you every single day. Then why wasn't it enough? Why weren't you satisfied.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you, Billie." She tilted her head and the grin on her face more prominent as she leaned in closer, her hands planted on the desk for support.

"You seem stressed babe... I know a thing or two to help with that."

You swallowed. Hard. You felt your body weaken at the intense eye contact between you two. The tension in the air felt more and more dominant as the time passed by. It was like she could see right through you. Undressing you with her eyes, slowly. painfully.

"Uhm..." And before you could finish your sentence, the bell rang. dismissing all students from their classes. Thank god.

After hours of reviewing papers and driving through the flooded streets from the pouring rain, you'd finally made it home. Your husband was still in his office around this time, nost likely fallen asleep. He was pretty strict about not being bothered, so you did your best to leave him alone.

He would stay in his office for hours and come out early in the morning. This was an everyday thing, so you often slept in the room alone. It was sad, but you were understanding.

You finally took a hot shower, feeling in need of one all day. It was around 6 p.m., so you still had time before you'd head to bed. You threw on a black silk nightgown and walked out into the living room, plopping onto the couch and sighing deeply.

You were lost in thought once again, and your mind ran back to the interaction with Billie earlier that day.

The way she looked at you had been replaying in your had all day. You could feel the intimacy through her gaze. It was hot. It was seductive.

You took a deep breath and snaked your hand to the lace of the bottom of your nightgown, tugging at it slightly as you bit down on your lip. This was wrong. But you couldn't help it. She made you like this. You were fine without sex in your marriage, or so you thought, for all your husband did was work. You did try to at least have a little action with him. But his excuse was always 'I'm busy'.

All that built-up sexual frustration multiplied as each day went by. You felt unwanted. Like you weren't enough for him.

You slid the fabric covering your pussy to the side, revealing all the wetness that had built up on your underwear.

Your head fell back against the cushion of the couch as you slid a finger inside your dripping cunt. You squirmed and let out an unsatisfied whine. It wasn't enough. You tried adding another finger, but before you could, you were interrupted by the doorbell that echoed throughout the house.

Your body shot up, and you fixed yourself before walking over to the front of the house. You opened the door, and your eyes widened at the sight of Billie right in front of you.

"Hi beautiful." She smiled. "Billie? How did you...?" She chuckled as her eyes ran down your figure, noticing the thin fabric that covered absolutely nothing. It was short and very inviting. And the fact that you hadn't been wearing a bra had her questioning what she even came here for. It took every bone in her body not to just pounce on you right then and there.

You noticed her checking you out, and you gasped, realizing you had been showing quite a lot of skin. "Oh, uh... one second." She smirked, and you closed the door behind you. Running to your room to grab a sweater and throwing it over your head.

Billie smiled at you once you'd open the door again, inviting her in. "Sorry about that..." you said nervously. "No worries. The night dress was cute, though. What a shame you changed"

You felt your body heat up. You were embarrassed... just a minute ago, your hands were in places they shouldn't have been. touching yourself to the thoughts of her.

And now she was on your couch, sitting in the same spot you were just fucking yourself on. Or at least attempting to.

You eyed the door to your husband's office, clearing your throat before you spoke. "So.. to what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to look at you, standing in the kitchen. Billie bit down on her lip before she stood up. "Well... I just needed some help."

Your heart began to race, every heart beat louder than the next as she got closer with every step towards you. "The assignment from earlier today. I don't quite understand it?"

You swallowed. Hard. She looked so hot. Sweatpants hanging low on her waist, just enough for her tattoo and colored boxers to peak through, a black hoodie that was slightly cropped. Oh, and you can't forget about her messy dark hair flipped to the side. 'Fuck. me.' You thought to yourself. Figuratively but mostly literally of course.

"What was there not to understand? I'm pretty sure I explained it pretty well." Billie leaned over the counter across from you, biting down on her lip as she smiled.

"Really? I guess I was just distracted." For a second, you got lost in her iris. Distracted by the slight glimmer in her eyes from the light, making them pop. You took a deep breath. "Best pay attention then, love."

She had to physically hold back from pretty much dicking you down on your own counter. The sudden nickname making her body shiver as she groaned. "Or you could help me now?"

You raised your brows, nodding your head slowly. "And what do I get in return?" You smugged, licking your lips as you looked at her own. Dammit. This was your student you were flirting with. But it was so hard to resist her when she talked to you like this.

"Why ruin the surprise pretty? You'll find out soon enough. " You exhaled, mind wondering to all the types of 'surprises' she could be talking about. "Why not tell me now.. I'm impatient." No. You wanted her to show you.

Your bottom lip stuck out, pouting before you walked around the kitchen island and stood next to her, softening your voice. "Think of this as... extra credit?"

Fuck it. She wanted you now. Show you exactly what she'd been wanting to do to you for so long. Forget the fact that you had a husband. You didn't love him anyway. Romantically, at least.

She grabbed your hips, pinning you in front of her, the counter digging into your back before she lifted you up, sitting your body down carefully onto the cold marble. "For all the hard work I'm about to do? Extra credit would be very much appreciated."

She tugged on your sweatshirt, urging you to take it off before sliding her hand up your thigh. Dangerously close to your heat... exactly where you'd wanted her. "Take this off for me baby." She whispered. And without another thought, you did as you were told, yanking the hoodie off of your body and now exposing the black satin gown you were wearing earlier. It was getting too hot anyway. Especially with her here in front of you.

Billie hummed, pleased with how fast you'd responded to her. So precious. She slid her hand farther up your thigh, pulling at the elastic of the fabric that covered your cunt and sliding it off of your legs. You whimpered, feeling the cool breeze between your legs.

"Shh. Wouldn't want your husband to hear. Would we now?" You shook your head. She shoved your underwear in the pocket of her sweatpants before picking you up and bringing you to whatever room she could find. Preferably yours. The thought of fucking you in the master bedroom you shared with your husband was fucking hot.

She carefully tossed you onto the cushion of the bed, lying on your back as she crawled up to you, hovering over your body. "You have no clue how long I've wanted to do this."

You brought your hands up, wrapping them around her neck as you pulled her closer, tangling your fingers in her hair. "Better get to it then." She smirked devishly. Impressed by your sudden boldness.

"Yes ma'am." She maneuvered her way down to your heat, grabbing onto the bottom of your nightgown before lifting it up to your mouth. "Here. Try not to be too loud mama." You nodded your head, biting down onto the fabric.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath her. Like you were a woman stripped of your own pleasure. You hadn't felt the warmth of someone else's touch in so long. But now here you were... so needy and desperate for her to touch you. Even her breath on your skin made you shiver.

"Brace yourself." She said. And that made you think about every little thing she was about to do to you. Mind racing on what she would and wouldn't do. And she could tell, but she didn't want you thinking about it. Just wanted you to feel it. Feel her. And before you knew it, she licked a stripe up your folds. Slowly. soaking in the taste of you.

Your body jumped, surprised by the sudden contact. You grabbed onto the sheets and tried your hardest to hold back the guttiest moan ever.

Billie kissed your thigh and soothed your skin with her soft hands. She wanted to make sure you were okay. You whimpered and ran your hands through her hair, taking a deep breath.

"Please.."

"Patience, baby. Don't worry, I'll make sure you feel reaaal good."

You felt something press against your cunt, something small but hard. Before you could look down to see what it was, you felt it vibrate, making you ball up her hair in your fist. "Oh my god."

You heard her chuckle before pushing it between your folds. "Found it just lying on the floor by your desk. Convenient, dont you think?" You couldn't even respond. The feeling of her breath against your pussy as she pushed the vibrator deeper into you with her fingers sending you into a bliss. All you could see were stars, your vision blurring as you fluttered your eyes closed.

You bit down harder onto the gown, your body quivering. Chest heaving. "Feels good?" You nodded your head, processing her words as best as you could.

"God, you look so beautiful. I always thought you would, but this.. fuck." She sat up, leaving the vibrator to do the work as she slid down her sweatpants, throwing them to the side to retrieve later. You looked down, noticing the bulge in her boxers.

No fucking way.

She took off the boxers, revealing the fake dick she had strapped to her waist. You couldn't help but stare. She had that on the whole time. From the moment she was at your front door.

"Bille, i dont.." – "You tell me you don't want it. Then I won't give it to you. But once I start, there's no stopping."

She gulped. Would something that big even fit inside? It'd been too long, you weren't very confident. "Okay.." You nodded your head, reassuring her that you wanted to continue, and she tilted her head, humming.

She spit where her cock lined up with your enterance, groaning before she pushed inside slowly. Now that.. that was the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen.

"Wait! Billie the vibra–" and before you could finish your sentence, she was fully inside you, down to the brim. Pushing the vibrator farther into your pussy.

"Woops." She watched as your eyes rolled back, your hand gripping onto her wrist as she held onto your waist, pulling you closer as if she wasn't deep enough. She wanted to be close to you. Closer than ever before... She wanted to become one.

The nightgown fell from your mouth as you moaned out for her. "Quiet, my love." She said breathlessly.

It was so sensual. She treated you better than he ever could. Loved you better than he ever could. It ignited a fire inside you that you never thought existed. It felt so good. Burned so good.

"More– please.. please." She shifted her body, moving herself somehow closer than she already was. She threw your leg over her shoulder, and pushed her fingers inside your pussy, reaching for the vibrator before sliding it out carefully. Trying not to hurt you.

Once she did, she re-entered her cock inside your cunt, which was practically drowning it in your juices. She was hitting your walls at a new angle, causing you to squeeze around her and let out a soft moan.

"As you wish." She groaned, pulling out slowly and thrusting herself deeper. Harder. The new angle only adding to the pleasure. Who would've thought this woman could fuck you ten times better than your husband ever could.

She thrusted her cock inside you at an unbelievable pace, as if she was some kind of sex god. You reached up for her, wanting her to hold you. Wanting to feel her warmth radiate onto you. So she pulled you up, sitting you on her lap as you rode her, causing her to hit you at, once again, an entirely different angle.

Your head fell onto her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck as you masked in her scent. Only the wet sounds of your body connecting in the most lustful ways ever bouncing off the walls of the room.

You could feel your climax approaching. And so could Billie. Your walls clenched around her cock, making it more difficult for her to fuck you properly.

"You got it. Come for me, baby. I know you can." Your body convulsed as you gripped onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin, causing her to hiss. She figured it would leave a mark, but who cares. She just wanted to make you feel good.

"Fuuuck..!" You choked on a moan, bringing your head up as you pushed your lips onto hers, tongues fighting for dominance. Eventually getting you to surrender, she bit down on your lip and brought her hand down to your clit, pressing down as she traced figure eights, luring your climax closer.

Your mouth hung open, resting your forehead on hers as you came on her cock, it felt like you were a virgine coming for the first time. You surely weren't. But that's just how good she made you feel.

She soothed your back and continued her repeating motion on your clit, helping you ride out your climax as you grinded ontop of her. Your body tensed and shuddered, eyes tearing up as she lifted your head and wiped them with her thumb.

"You okay?" You just nodded your head, still trying to catch your breath, your body still stuck between the realm of pleasure and reality.

She kissed your forehead before lying you back down onto the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?" You raised your brows, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched her walk away into your bathroom.

A few minutes later, she came out with a warm cloth and sat down next to you, smiling before she began wiping you down. "Thank you." She just laughed softly, making you feel a little embarrassed even though you were a grown ass woman. She just had that power over you. "You're welcome, my love."

You felt your eye lids slowly flutter closed. You tried to fight it, but the feeling of her hand soothing over your body with a cloth made you feel warm... and quite tired. She placed the palm of her hand on your cheek, caressing softly with her thumb before she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your lips. And a few minutes later, you were fast asleep.

"Rest well, my love."

Notes: i actually kinda hate this... but i wasn't gonna rewrite the whole thing. AGAIN.. Hopefully, you like it more than i do😅 enjoy my loves💝

304 notes · View notes

emeraldgreenbeautiesstu · 8 months ago

Text

written for this request : matt x hooters girl, i’m thinking the triplets are recurring customers that only come to see her because matt thinks she’s hot. (pls pls pls pls! make it smutty!)

warnings : dom!matt, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), oral (male receiving) degradation, public (kinda?) sex.

lowercase intended.

a/n : this is my first time writing smut so right now i'm just testing out the waters, thanks for the request! and as always, feedback is appreciated!

y/n had been working at a hooters in la for about four months and it was definitely an interesting job. and it paid good. she tended to rack up the most tips out of all of her coworkers, being the hottest one. She had double d’s and a nice ass, as well as sunkissed skin, and caramel brown hair. she was used to old shriveled patrons hitting on her by now, but she wasn't used to younger people coming in as much. but recently, a group of three men had been coming in about once a week for about a month and a half now, and the change of scenery was a big step up from the wrinkly perverts who she typically served. she recognized the boys to be youtubers, the sturniolo triplets. y/n had never watched their videos, but she knew enough about them to know they post the videos in their car, and that 12 year old girls go crazy over them.

y/n was nearing the end of her shift with only two hours left, when the hot regulars walked in. she found them all attractive, but the quiet one was her favorite. she watched as they sat in her section as they always do, smiling to herself. y/n made her way to their table, swaying her hips and making her tits bounce slightly as she pulled out her notepad and pen. it was a tactic she used to get more tips. “hey yall, welcome to hooters! can i get yall something to drink?” her sweet southern accent rang out.

the one she recognized to be nick spoke up saying, “i'll have a dr. pepper, and they'll have pepsis.” he said, pointing to his brothers. y/n noticed the one she recognized as matt had moved his hand to his pants, readjusting as he tried not to look at her. she smiled, loving the effect she had on him. shed be lying if she said she didnt think about him fucking her.

“ sure honey, ill be right back with that.” she walked away, making sure to ‘accidentally’ brush matts arm with her hip as she walked away.

time had past and the boys had gotten their food. y/n had passed their table, after teasing matt all night, brushing his hand as she gave him refills, hitting his shoulder when she laughed, etc. she soon noticed that matt had gotten up behind her. “im sorry did i forget something?” she said, turning around.

“something like that.” he grumbled, motioning for her to follow him as he walked past her. he led her to the back room, and pinned her against the wall, hands on either side of her head. “if you wanna act like a little slut all night, ill treat you like one.” he growled, not breaking eye contact. the breath hitched in y/ns throat, as she nodded. he broke away to lock the door. “knees.” matt said, sitting in a chair and manspreading, the bulge in his tight pants was extremely visible. she nodded, clenching her legs before getting on her knees, feeling matts gaze burning her skin. she unbuckled his belt, looking up to meet his eyes. she undid his pants and moved his boxers, his dick springing up to hit his stomach. he was big. “how bad do you want it sweetheart.” he inquired with his boston accent more prominent on the word 'sweetheart'.

“bad. so so bad.” y/n said, reaching for his aching member. she wrapped a hand around it, slowly pumping up and down his full length. matt got impatient. he grabbed her hair by the base of her ponytail, pushing her mouth onto his dick.

“you're such a slut y/n. working here with your tits on display? you know all the men here are starin, and you love it you whore. now you're blowing a costumer in the breakroom.” he growled, watching her pump up and down on his dick, his grip on her ponytail tight as he helped her bob. “s’pretty.”

he released into her mouth and she pulled off, starting to spit when matt said. “nup, good girls swallow it.” she did what she was told. she wanted to be a good girl. matt immediately pulled her up from the floor to a standing position, moving her to the wall once more. y/n stood dripping, when matt ripped her tiny shorts off, revealing no underwear. he smirked, seeing how soaked he was. “so wet already?”

“matt i need you.” she moaned out, taking matt by surprise. with no more words, he picked her up by her thighs and slammed into her, feeling her walls stretch. she yelped at the feeling, not even attempting to muffle her sounds as he aggressively thrusted in and out. after minutes of him absolutely rocking her shit, she moaned out “matt i- im gonna cum” the tension in her stomach having little to no give.

"you cum when i say you cum." he said, continuing to pound into her. he came again, pumping it into her. "dont wanna waste it now do we sweetheart?" he asked, realizing y/ns eyes were closed and her head was back. she responded with a weak 'mhm', he grabbed her chin with his thumb and index, pulling her face down to meet his. "answer me." he growled.

"no, we dont wanna waste it." she spat out. she came all over his dick, moaning as she couldnt hold it in any longer. they snapped out of their high when they heard a fist pounding on the door.

"whos in there!" the manager of the store shouted through the door.

shit.

a/n : tbh, probs could've done better but oh well! 🎀

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #smut writing #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #big hooters

455 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 25 days ago

Text

My offer will stand

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,800+

Synopsis: After being reprimanded by your boss for another mismanaged and hierarchical transgression transfer, you found an unlikely hand offering you comfort in the hallway behind your superior officer's door.

Themes: Mihawk x marine!reader, no gendered terms used, fluff, hand kissing, hurt / comfort, crappy boss, degradation and insults (crappy boss), affirmation and praise, flirtations, hat tilting.

Notes: @since-im-already-here said she was having a bad day. I told her to give me a blorbo and give me 40 minutes before bed. Have some fluff, sis. Enjoy the warlord.

It had finally broken you.

That welled dam you chose to keep behind the concrete slate of your resolve had began to crack the moment that cruel reprimand fled from your superior’s lips. It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault, yet you had become the scapegoat for all of the administration mistakes run by the marine’s International Charter Navigational Cooperation.

You had made the map, certainly. Each line and crease was of your making, as was the devotion you spend coursing over each calligraphed etch. But one misplaced line drawn by your supervisor was enough to tip the Vice Admiral over their edge.

Leaving the room after a cruel rage was imposed onto you, and clicking the door closed behind you, you placed your back on the wooden pane while you sucked a heavy breath through your nose and clenched your eyes tightly shut. You could still hear their voice ricocheting around in your mind and ringing in your ears.

“You can't do anything right.”

“You're a disgrace to call yourself a marine.”

“I should have you stripped of your awards and writing addresses in the mail room.”

“The only thing keeping you here is the fact your direct supervisor begged me not to discharge you from service.”

“The next mistake will be your last, marine.”

Exhaling, you internally chastised yourself by the way your lashline began to flood with the overwhelming emotion. Your breath felt more like a quivering sob than a relinquishment of air, and you hated yourself for this weakness. You were a marine, a hardened and trained soldier who devoted your life to your trained craft.

And this was the moment that broke you.

At the first tear, you sprung your eyes alert, checking first the hallway to ensure the coast was clear before another fled over your water line. There was no whimper, no sob, no sound other than your breath inhaling and exhaling as steadily as you could while you attempted to calm yourself down and ground yourself to the area around you.

The surrounds was a corridor with slate tiles, grout beginning to crack and fade into the floor and ruin the foundations. The windows were thick with ill-maintained cleanliness due to the heights of the marine tower and lack of volunteers for high-rise scaling. The lights illuminating the corridor was buzzing with an electrical fizz you had trained yourself to zone out.

The rhythmic clicking of leather boots and high heels rung on the floor to indicate the approach of a group of people you had not anticipated come to this side of the tower at present.

Seven warlords began to pass you. In your state of dishevelment, you stood your ground and looked straight ahead with an unmoving expression. None paid you any mind as you were simply a marine in usual uniform, and you chose to not let them see how hard your boss broke you by controlling your breathing and maintaining your stature.

As the last of the seven warlords moved past you, you noticed a clearing of a throat and a wave of something frilly and pale before your eyes. This small motion broke you out of your transfixed stature and you turned your head up to gaze upon a sight you had never anticipated.

“Dry your eyes, marine,” the powerful warlord of Kuraigana informed you curtly, “It would be unbecoming should any of the others have spotted your present state. Especially the feather-clad Donquixote.” You bat your lashes up at the world's greatest swordsman as you were shell shocked in your stupor.

Rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, he simply stepped closer to you and immediately placed his hands on your shoulders and brushed off the white and blue panels of your uniform jacket. After your shoulders, he drew his hands down and straightened your tie, and began to shift down to your brass buttons to face them upright.

“Before you open and close your mouth in a bid to question why I'm doing this,” he spoke with a soft and sassy remark, “And believe me, I can already hear questions of: ‘You're a former marine hunter, why care about the way I look right now?’ and I would implore you to drop it and permit me to continue fix your attire to that more suitable of a marine.” He continued his fussing until he drew the frilled handkerchief up to your face.

Starting at your chin, he swiped at the few tears that spilled from your lashes up to collect the fresh few pooling on your eyes. His attention to detail wasn't lost on you. The flicker of his brow, the piercing gaze from his honeyed hue, the way his lips parted in concentration as he ensured your tear-blotched skin had returned to the way it should be was all causing you to truly delve into your mind of swirling questions hidden beneath your flickering eyes.

“I can see the question lingering in your eyes, marine,” he chastised you with a small smirk drawing up beneath his manicured upper lip. “And I explicitly informed you to halt them.”

“I had assumed you had fixed my attire to that more suitable of a marine,” you quipped in return as a small swell of bravery pulsated in your veins, “Which would indicate an opportunity to ask you why in the hells you're touching me like this right now.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened slightly, and his smirk remained drawn over his features as he almost released what sounded like a huffed laugh. He removed the handkerchief from your face and offered the monogrammed material out for a second time to you.

“Touche,” he tipped his feathered hat to you as you took the material from his hands into your own. You felt the brush of his cool fingertips meeting your own, the moment of time halting in a frozen standstill. The look he gave to you was almost soft in comparison to the hardened swordsman of great renown you knew him to be. His eyes held a gentle tease to them, knowing the next time you parted your lips would be with that same predictable question.

“Why are you so focussed on helping me, lord Dracule Mihawk?” you asked him plainly, “There is no reason for you to interact with someone like me. I'm nobody, just a lowly marine while you are one of the greater warlords of this era of piracy.”

“Because, my dear,” he stepped in closer to your proximity, his lips dropping closer to yours, “You're not just any ‘lowly marine', are you?” His hands clasped around yours, softly cradling the flesh of your digits beneath his own. He slowly rose your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand while his eyes maintained contact with your own.

“What you are is so much more than that,” he whispered intimately, holding onto each syllable as if he was afraid to let them go, "Allow me to elaborate."

“You are one of the greatest map makers of our generation,” he emphasised, pressing another kiss to your knuckles and smoothing over your skin.

“Everything you do, you do to the finest of minute and miniscule details that most could miss,” he continued, tracing his lips over to your wristband and placing a kiss gently on the seam of your uniform jacket, “And the marines are lucky to have you.”

Mihawk drew that hand behind his neck before finding the other and cradling it within his own.

“The only thing keeping you here is your own valour, honor and creed you bound yourself to when you took the vow to be a marine,” he emphasised by drawing up your hand to his lips, “Not some hierarchical leverage another assumes they hold over you.” He placed the other hand behind his neck to join the other behind him. Leaning down he emphasised his final words by almost placing them against your lips by contact with his own.

“And the next time they make the mistake of blaming you for another's misdeeds,” he tilted his head and almost caused you to close your eyes and lean into his embrace, “The monogram on the handkerchief holds my signate, and location to my keep in Kuraigana.” At the simple taste of his breath on yours, the whisper of a soft tingle of his beard dusting your skin, his contact was broken from you by a hasty step backwards.

“Should they do something as petty as speak ill of anything you do in future, or blame you for another's misdeed again,” the swordsman continued with a soft flicker of mischief in his eyes, “I have always wanted to place a true artist on my payroll.” He reached up to the broad brim on his hat and tipped it toward you. “As a warlord, I hold diplomatic immunity, which extends to my staff, as a promise of my contract to the marines. You would be taken care of, should you leave them for me.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” your silence was broken as a warm flush began to flood your ears at his words as they sunk in. Mihawk’s smile ticked slightly at the corners before it fled his face and held the memory within the shadow of his moustache.

“My offer will stand indefinitely,” Mihawk nodded before turning on his feet towards the room where the warlords had disappeared within, “You would do well to remember that should you find yourself wanting more than a life of being reprimanded for something you simply did not do. Treat my word as my bounds.”

“I trust your word, Lord Dracule,” you nodded after him. He simply nodded his head and allowed his lengthy embroidered coat to flow dramatically at his heels as he disappeared down the corridor into the meeting room.

While you believed this to be the moment that had finally broken you as a marine, the sword wielding warlord offered you the kintsugi repair to bring beauty and promise from your fractured loyalty. You expected a reprimand from your boss to be all that became of you in this moment, not a promise of new beginnings on the shores of Kuraigana.

The question then remains as to whether you wait for another reprimand from your superior, a discharge from service and a severance package to follow. Or, do you leave with the dark-haired warlord as he returns from the meeting space with your higher ups and the others. In your heart, you knew which was the more honorable choice to make.

But what honor remained for you to hold onto after such mistreatment from your superiors?

Looking down onto the monogrammed material, you thumbed over the embroidery with a soft smile on your features. Your destiny awaited you, and you would claim that path under the cover of darkness: sailing on a coffin-shaped boat under the protection of the Lord of Kuraigana, one of the seven warlords of the sea, and the current title holder of the world's greatest swordsman to serve him as his artist and chronicler in his high keep.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

#one piece #x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #op mihawk #x gn!reader #mihawk x reader #one piece fluff #one piece hurt / comfort #the things i do for my baby sister #i wrote this instead of tucking myself into bed and sleeping #warlord mihawk

162 notes · View notes

shahrwrites · 9 months ago

Text

Call me delulu for this one, but the parallel occurred to me whilst studying for an upcoming test and now it’s all I can think about so of course I had to post it.

The two times Dick went berserk over what had been done to Jason and I’m all here for it.

The panel on the left is when Joker kidnapped Tim and made the mistake of mentioning Jason’s name. That famous moment that Dick *killed* Joker.

The panel on the right is Gotham War when Dick finds out Bruce kidnapped Jason and psychologically manipulated him.

Funny thing is, both times Tim stopped him, and the one he was a little late for. Makes me wonder how far Dick would have gone if Tim hadn’t been there to stop him beating Bruce.

[Im gonna put a little headcanon in the following, so beware.]

The parallel kinda occurred to me because I was imagining a scenario actually. Post Gotham war where Dick’s taking Jason away from Gotham and all it’s crazyness. So they’re in the car and Dick’s driving, looking out at the roadside and the sun’s beating down on lush green grass and he’s reminiscing about a forgotten memory buried deep in the treasure trove of his most cherished memories of a time long bygone. A memory of himself and Jason picnicking out near the manor grounds one day with Alfred and Bruce. And they were playing some game of chase or another that ended up in a bit of rough housing and lighthearted bickering and hearty laughter and—It turned out to be such a good day. A rare memory.

And what if they stopped on the way to picnic on the roadside, for old time’s sake? Because they’ve got a blanket in the back and they’ve already packed food for the road and basically they’ve got everything they’d need, and wouldn’t it be such a shame if they let that opportunity to go to waste?

So here they were now, stomachs full and lying on their backs, staring at a partly cloudy sky, playing a childish game of pointing out the shapes of passing clouds to each other. It’s a little stupid, and because it’s stupid they start arguing over pointless stupid details. A harmless argument that—ironically enough—develops into a round of rough housing, again. And maybe for just a moment they’d both allowed themselves to forget what they’re running away from. But a frown flashes over Jason’s expression for the barest of seconds and Dick just—stops.

They’ve ended up with Jason on his back and Dick over and above him, and Dick can’t help but caress his hair, touch the side of his face, checking his expression and body responses to make sure that Jason’s alright.

And Jason’s fine—Dick stop fussing, it was just a moment!

So Dick’s hand just drops and he’s moving away, not looking at Jason, not able to meet his eyes.

He’s holding himself in that way he does when his thoughts are chipping away at his soul, a sight that’s become recognizable to Jason over the years. “What happened?”

Nothing but the usual, he wants to say. Once again something terrible happened to you and I wasn’t there to stop it. To protect you. But I made sure to take out the simmering rage running through my vains out on the man responsible with my fists. Because that’s what I can do. Twice you needed me, and twice I wasn’t there. But I made sure they paid for it, right? I made sure of it.

#idk it was so satisfying for me to watch bruce get beaten up #kinda even more satisfying than dick *killing* joker #honestly he had it coming #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #dickjay #jaydick #jaydick headcanons #headcanons #my headcanons

701 notes · View notes

neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2

summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory. PART 1 | PART 3 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!

The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath.

The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line.

You weren’t exactly happy about this.

The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach.

Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you.

Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —

the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that.

If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily.

Maybe.

Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared.

But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee.

Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one.

She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger.

You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never.

You weren’t a child.

Just wanted to be one, sometimes.

Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed.

Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See.

He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time.

Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did.

Win some, lose some, I guess.

Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five.

Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention.

You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.

You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?

Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you.

That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.

The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways.

A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong.

The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat.

At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall.

Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention —

and you slipped.

The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge.

The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height.

You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally.

Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle.

You’d made it?

No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening!

Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd.

But.

One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.

You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.

You were chosen.

It wanted you as its rider.

If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.

The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly.

You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw.

Firstborn daughter excellence.

Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong.

Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling.

“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”

The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you.

You were all alone.

The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement.

Right.

You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life.

Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.

Flying! He wanted to fly!

The first flight sealed the bond, after all.

You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step.

The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night.

The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine.

You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you.

And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos.

No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun.

Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.

When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory?

Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.

Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.

And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. .

Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up.

Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this.

But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!

“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”

Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick.

Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”

“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”

The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.”

“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”

“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”

“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”

You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core.

“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.”

All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’

You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.

One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood.

An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.

“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”

Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”

“How much longer?”

“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”

What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”

This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in.

His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation.

He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child.

It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first.

Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.

Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.

His teenage daughter. Scared him.

Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place.

The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore.

He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely.

And then he didn’t.

“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”

Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”

Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut.

His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”

“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”

Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”

This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before.

Here we go again, Jake thought.

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”

“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”

He grimaced. “I have to—”

“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”

“They trust me plenty.”

“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”

“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”

“They won’t if you never tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”

“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.”

“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”

Because he had gone too far already with the older three.

Trial and error.

He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step.

A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning.

Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.

He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.”

Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.

“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”

“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”

“Dad—”

Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”

Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”

He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”

“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”

Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.

Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”

“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.

“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?”

Silence.

The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—”

Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”

“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”

He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”

His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.

Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.

You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.

A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face.

When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble.

“Neytiri?”

She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear.

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

5K notes · View notes