#the only thing edited is blur
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Technoblade: Man, imagine not winning a 1 v 3. Couldn't be me.
Every MCC with Technoblade was memorable, but MCC 5 will always stand out in my mind thanks to Techno's infamous 1 v 3 fight! Here are some highlights from that event in honor of the man himself.
Happy Birthday, Technoblade! Thanks for all the laughs.
#Technoblade25#Technoblade#MCC#MCC 5#Philza#Emerald Duo#Subtitles#Edited#And don't worry -- this video only features Technoblade and Phil (with a few Tommy and VoiceOverPete cameos)#I've gotten pretty good at editing things so you don't need to worry about any of those guys (or that Particular Guy) popping up on screen#Though rewatching things there might be a brief 2 second moment where he's in the background that I forgot to blur out#but it's not easily noticable#Edit: I stayed up til 5am editing this so I could schedule it to post early and it didn't even schedule properly??? bruh.#Ah well#Technoblade 25
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16x05 Celebrity Booze/16x07 The Gang Goes Bowling/13x06 The Gang Solves the Bathroom Problem/15x05 The Gang Goes to Ireland/15x06 The Gang’s Still in Ireland/15x08 The Gang Carries a Corpse Up A Mountain
Can we stick with the one thing? What’s one word to describe us? What’s one word to describe Sunny? Comedy? Tragedy? Are you more gay than you are Catholic? They’re at war. “Primary” identity, but identity isn’t rigid, just one thing, this or that, black or white, it’s about the blend.
It’s about the blend.
(And the Big Mo of it all, are we playing to win or to have fun? Why not both?) Peace and love. Peace and love.
#iasip#it’s always sunny in philadelphia#sunny sweet 16#analysis#I should make a tag for that#do you understand#s16 spoilers#anmmbposts#stills#sorry for blur I was collecting these at 3 am on my phone and putting them together on the ride to work/at work like a madman#text#season 16#season 15#16x07#16x05#posting while at work now or it’s gonna haunt me all day wanting to edit it#missing some things I wanted to say and could only put so many images but you get it you get it#Id in alt text#just realized I accidentally wrote the wrong ep number for carries a corpse analysis card revoked 😭 fixed now
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#Fake planets made out of dry acrylic paint inside the lid of a tiny tin jar!#free resources#free to use#artistic resources#png#transparent png#planet png#i just made these for fun so feel free to use them for any of your own art projects/fanart/edits or whatever!#they're not very hq but im sure they're fine when used in small size in unofficial things!#and i seem to have fucked up with krita at some point cause they had these circular geometric lines in them that i've tried to blur out 🤡#so def only use in small size!#also the red ones have a white background when you view them individually 👀 i'm guessing cause i inverted the colour? 👀#but they all definitely have transparent backgrounds i promise! 👀#which you can see if your post background is set to dark mode on the app#or if you open this blog on pc#2022
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Don't much care for the whole "I will no longer do this Normal Thing if I suspect someone watching me might have a fetish for it." like, y'all this is why people are censoring their damn feet in otherwise-innocuous photos.
Hate to break it to you but everything is a fetish. Drinking water? Fetish. Eating? Fetish. Sneezing? Fetish. Clearing your throat? Fetish. Burping, farting, pissing, shitting, walking, sitting, standing, having your mouth visible when you talk, making certain mouth sounds, your accent (yes yours), your skin color (yes yours), makeup, lack-of-makeup, smelling bad, smelling good, smelling neutral, hair, lips, noses, eyes, ears, chins, shoulders, necks, armpits, elbows, fingers, chests, stomachs, backs, hips, thighs, knees, knee pits, ankles, toes, soles - all fetishes. Like it or not someone somewhere will Perceive You and they will Like What They See.
And they will be silent and normal about it because guess what? Fetishes are normal and most people know how to conduct themselves around others tactfully. We only ever find out about specific fetishes as they relate to us in particular when someone is choosing to be decidedly Not Normal about it, so we assume everyone who has those fetishes is a tactless weirdo. Rookie mistake. I guarantee some of your friends have fetishes for innocuous non-sexual things too, and it doesn't make them some kind of pervert creep.
So please for fucks sake live your damn life. Don't contort your entire existence around the fear of the possibility that you might maybe possibly inadvertently turn someone on a little sometimes. This too is a fetish.
EDIT: Some folks misinterpreted my lead-in. To clarify, censoring your feet is a thing you are 100% free to do! You can post what you want in whatever way makes you feel comfortable. From a photo composition perspective, maybe consider cropping out the part of your photo that contains your feet instead of blurring them or putting censor graphics over them. It draws less unwanted attention that way 👍
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You know i want to get into using procreate dreams, cause useful 1 time payment and it has a lot of things you need.
And so Im keeping it because although it has a few things it could use and upgrade whatnot, I know its just started and so Im just waiting for the update that saves the day.
But until then.
BUT UNTIL THEN..
my fuckin GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD—
#its like just 2 or 3 minor things that hurt my brain omfg—#I have a longer video i wanna make but to scroll all the way from frame 1 to i dunno 2000???#i cant find out how to change it to not stop scrolling as soon as my finger lifts from the screen#so i can’t just swipe real hard and get to the end. i have to swipe and then swipe and then swipe and then—#AUAUUUGHGHHHHHHH#but thats the only big thing really#the other two are just that you can’t edit the brushes yet#so for me when i make a line with the brush i like to use it ends up very wobbly. so like a wave line. i solved it before by editing it#and then the 3rd is just theres a ‘flip book’ thing that shows you frames while you’re on drawing on the canvas#but you can’t turn it off or shrink it#[or at least i cant—]#and so it somewhat blocks the canvas. even more so because it has that blurred black area around it. so it blocks even more accidentally#I saw the reviews and stuff and they said a lot that they plan to change and add things in later updates. this being the start version.#So i know it’ll get better with time#I just have to wait#I know a lot of other people were complaining about it not having the transform tool#Which I also agree thats a bummer but these other ones for me though my GOD FUC—#aaaaanyways—#just me ranting#have a good day#random stuff—
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finish her! a toji fushiguro oneshot
pairing ⸺ wrestler!toji x reader
summary ⸺ you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) creds to @/reynisxxsimart on twitter for art!
warnings ⸺ nasty, NASTY smut, VERY public sex, WWE but pornhub edition, you’re a wrestler fighting toji, so some violence but nothing graphic, fem!reader, HUMILIATION, degradation, you're literally fucked in an arena of people, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (f! recieving), boobplay, very inaccurate depiction of wrestling/WWE, not edited we die like toji
a/n im going to sit in the corner and think about what i just wrote
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the muffled sounds of the crowd’s deafening roar seem to swirl in the space around you, each cheer vibrating through your chest like distant thunder. you take a long, cool sip of water, a welcome contrast to the warm air backstage. lounging back, you let the chair support your weight, your muscles still humming with the residual tension of anticipation. utahime’s fingers work into your shoulders, and her voice filters through the buzzing atmosphere, calm and steady as she gives you a rundown of the night ahead, though her words seem to blur slightly at the edges—just background noise to the constant hum of adrenaline.
“in front of a crowd—do you understand? and the rules are no fucking, unless all clothes are off first.”
“right,” you affirm, albeit hesitantly. you’re feeling a bit jitterish in anticipation of what’s to happen, despite having trained months to hone your ability as a wrestler. look, wwe itself can get really suggestive at times, with people giving wedgies, removing certain articles of clothing, or even letting the crowd cop a feel of the defeated to serve as humiliation. not only does it improve publicity, but it also increases viewership of all the horny bastards on the internet to circle the televised clip around in their subreddits or discord servers.
but what you were going to do today—that was a bit…extreme. it was like bridging the gap between soft core and hard core, with the humiliation turned up to a hundred. because today, you were going to wrestle the man that all female–and male–wrestlers could even dream of having their hands on, even if for a slight moment.
toji fushiguro.
a man of impressive build—entering a ring with him only meant defeat. he’s had numerous career wins, far exceeding any other. hell, you shouldn’t even be matched to wrestle with him today; he outweighs and outranks you by far. the only thing you really have running for you is the sheer amount of fans you have, ready to tune in to your fights and edit your moves and time spent in the fighting ring to songs like “chun li” and “maneater.” so, sure, you don’t exactly anticipate a win today in that stadium that’s waiting for you, but you’re no less of a wrestler in your own right. you won’t go down without a fight.
however, today was no normal fight. the wwe had suddenly decided that their viewership was too low, that extreme measures needed to be taken to boost. so, ironically enough they had decided to change the rules just before your momentous match:
all wrestlers must consent to having all and any articles of clothing removed from their person, particularly for sexual intercourse as a reward for the winner.
so, WWE (Pornhub’s Version) (In The Vault).
and your luck dictated that this paradigm shift for the organization occur just before your most anticipated match with toji. again, you knew that no amount of training could prevent you from getting utterly humiliated, but it was almost like the gods were laughing down on you, eager to rub in your impending defeat once more. because you were going to get your shit fucked up—-literally.
“it’s going to be fine,” utahime assures you, and you snap back to the present from your thoughts at the sound of her voice. “just think about the publicity this’ll get you! not that you don’t have any fans of yourself, but there are going to be a lot of people tuned in because of fushiguro.”
you take an inhale in and nod. “yea, that’s true. i just want to get it over with.”
as if answering your prayers, gojo satoru, the mc, burst into your dressing room. “it’s your time to shine, buttercup!” he grins, ushering you out the door. albeit a bit nervously, you stand up and make your way into the hallway that leads directly into the middle of the arena. “you’re going to do great!”
as soon as you walk closer and closer to the arena, the screams get louder and louder, the music booming and causing the floor under you to vibrate. the sounds of people surround all your senses, wrapping you up and causing your heartbeat to go faster and faster.
reaching the end of the hallway, the arena is filled with light, and you have to blink to get a hold of your sight. surrounding the center boxing ring are stands upon stands of people, hustling and bustling. at the sight of you, cameramen stationed around in various spots through the arena furiously angle their cameras towards you. not only are journalists and the media snapping pictures, blinding you with the flash, but you see yourself displayed on the big screens visible to everyone in the arena. you smile and wave, causing your fans to scream as they register that you have walked in.
then, a realization washes over you. these are the same screens that are going to be projected whatever's going to happen during the fight and when you lose.
oh god.
you walk forward, trying to keep up your smile and wave to all of your fans that outstretched their hands, trying to cop a feel and/or get a high five. most of your fans are male (to no one's surprise), and you can feel their eyes roving over you appreciatively, taking in your outfit. it was simple and tight; shorts that just barely covered your ass and was snug around your hips, and a low cut top that couldn't even be called a top. your cleavage was on full display, and the top stopped just below your waist. typically, this is your wrestling attire you wear to a normal match, but you couldn't help but wryly notice that today, your neckline was cut lower than usual. the wwe was really trying to milk this, huh?
you stood just below the boxing ring, eyes anxiously scanning the arena, unconsciously searching for the man you were set to fight. but no matter how hard you looked, you couldn't spot his tall, muscular figure either in the ring or in the seat he was supposed to occupy with his manager.
a light tap on your shoulder startled you, and you turned to find utahime behind you, a concerned look on her face. "everything alright?"
"yeah," you said, waving her off with a forced smile. "but where is he?"
utahime pointed toward the boxing ring, and then you saw it—a glimpse of black hair.
"alright," you said, swallowing nervously. "i'm heading into the ring. wish me luck."
"wait!" utahime called out, but you were already too far to hear her. gripping the ropes at the edge of the ring, you hauled yourself up and strode toward the center, determined to get a better view. and there, just on the far side of the ring, hidden from your previous angle, was toji fushiguro.
he was lounging back, relaxed, his posture almost lazy as he faced his manager, shiu kong. you couldn’t see toji's face from this angle, but his body language indicated that he was the epitome of ease. shiu was saying something to him, and from your best attempt at lip reading, you could just make out the words, "don't break the rules today."
toji, on the other hand, didn't seem to be looking at him (giving 0 fucks, something so classically toji), focusing now towards the big screens everyone else saw in the arena. you turned your gaze towards them as well, only to be taken aback when it was you, a compilation of your best moments in the ring, narrated by gojo.
“and today, fellas, we’re going to see the bombshell y/n—the maneater, as coined by her fans—-competing! while her opponent is fushiguro, don’t be fooled—she can pack a mean punch. look at this fight with mei mei; she sweeped the floor with her face!”
satisfied, you looked around, the arena bustling with people getting drinks, being enraptured with your fight on the screen, or pointing at you or toji. toji, on the other hand, was chuckling and shaking his head at your fight, observing as you gave the bitch mei mei a wedgie. which kind of made you flustered, because you had developed a crush on the guy observing him from afar or in passing, so you just focused on shaking out your legs and arms in nervousness.
gojo similarly announced toji’s fights and compilation, gassing him up for the crowd and it was then that toji finally turned around, uninterested in whatever was going on, and caught your eye. you stared back, breath held involuntarily.
his eyes had a predatory glint to them, and he smiled, charmingly in a way that showed off his scar, and they scanned up and down your figure, taking in what you were wearing—or rather, letting his imagination run. nervously, your heart sped up as you clenched your thighs up in anticipation or anxiety, you couldn’t choose which, as your mind began running at the speed of light thinking about what was going to happen today.
today, you weren’t only going to wrestle toji fushiguro. you were going to fuck him.
but you’re jolted out of your thoughts as gojo’s obnoxious voice blares through the speakers. “give it up for thee wwe goat, toji fushiguro!”
screams reach an all time high as his smirk is broadcasted to the audience, biceps bulging and flexing as he heaves his way up on the ring, joining you. he waves lazily, roars at an all time high as he stalks his way to you, and you squeeze your nails into your palm out of nervousness.
when gojo announces your name, the male screams rise up in volume, causing you to giggle and fushiguro to roll his eyes from what you can see in the corner of your eye. you give a dainty wave, choosing to wink and blow a kiss to the camera in front of you, causing your fans to scream even louder.
“you sure got a lotta fanboys, darling.” you jump as toji has now bent down to whisper in your ear, literally sending shivers down your spine.
you force out a laugh. “and you're at no shortage of fangirls yourself, fushiguro.”
he gives you a nonchalant hum, assuming his original position. as gojo continued to yap about the stakes of the round today, the recent rule change, a referee walked over to you both, coming in closer so that you would be able to hear him over the chaos of the arena.
“so, you’re both aware of the rules, right?” he both looked at you, to which you nodded and toji’s smirk widens. “you gotta get the other’s clothes completely off, and the first one to do that wins.”
you gulp, eyeing what toji was wearing today. it was his signature garb, the one he wore to almost every match without fail: grey pants with various sponsorships sewed on, and a black compression shirt. it was definitely very minimal compared to what a lot of the other wrestlers wore, but it was iconic, giving him a lazy, laid back aura that no other wrestler could truly emanate.
it wasn’t anything hard to take off in particular.
both of you affirmed your consent to the referee, who then took a step back after wishing you both good luck. you turned, facing toji face on, who had his hand on his hip. “try to last long, okay?” he smirks, patting your shoulder with his other hand. “i’ll try to drag this out as much as i can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”
you glare, but there isn’t much intensity to it because you know he’s much stronger than you. there isn’t much to get angry about. “yea, yea,” you huff. “for all i know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”
he barks out a laugh and looks at the referee, who has one hand raised, the other one poised on his whistle, ready to blow and start the round. it’s starting soon. then, he looks back to you and smiles. “let the games begin.”
the referee blows the whistle.
at once, you launch yourself towards toji, trying to jump on him to get him off his feet with your weight. instead, he dodges easily and leaves you hurtling towards the floor, making you poise yourself on your hands and feet upon impact. you roll over just as toji tries to tackle you and pin you against your original position on the floor and quickly get up.
however, as you’re steadying yourself on your feet, toji grabs your ankle, causing you to lose your balance and giving him the advantage to pin himself on top of you, his mouth breathing heavily next to your ear, whispering so it was just the two of you that could hear his words. “what do you think i should take off first?” he laughs deeply, the vibration causing you to shiver and try to squirm to get out of his hold, to no avail. “should it be these?” he snakes his hands down to grope your tits, giving them a firm squeeze, much to the arena’s pleasure. “or should i take these off of you?” he slaps your ass, making you blush furiously.
“fuck you,” you hiss as his hands catch on the edge of your shorts.
he gives you a sweet, small kiss on your temple. “don’t worry, baby,” he smiles. “you’ll be doing that anyways.” and with that, he pulls at your shorts until the waistband’s elastic rips, leaving your shorts in tatters until he throws the remains of it away, baring your panty-covered ass to the crowd, which immediately grows wild.
you crane your neck to look at the screen, which is currently focused on toji’s hands feeling up your ass, dipping inside your underwear to knead the flesh. your heart is pounding, the thought i need to get the upper hand flashing continuously across your mind. it’s almost as if you’re drowning, the noises of the crowd blurring together until it was only you and toji’s weight on you. you barely heard the announcer exclaim, “toji is currently in the lead!” as you focused on calculating your next move.
it was time to pull out all the stops.
turning your head until you were making eye contact with him, you bit your lip, momentarily distracted him with the 180 turn of your actions, now nonchalant rather than the flailing you were doing earlier. then, you raised your hips, meeting your backside with his crotch in an effort to catch him off guard and to make him lose balance. then, you maneuvered yourself so your thighs surround toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. this momentarily distracted and weakened toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. you quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. the whole stadium, in fact, can see his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.
smirking while peering down at him, you slowly grind your hips as if you were riding a mechanical bull, making a show of spinning around his shirt with your hand to mock him. toji’s eyes darken, but a mirthless smile flashes across his face anyways. “damn, take me out to dinner first.”
you flash him one of your own humorless smirks, happy that you got at least one thing against him. “i don’t fuck anyone before the first day, honey. this is just another cheap fuck.” with that, you yank his head back with his hair roughly, making a show of motorboating his pecs, as if to mock him.
instead of getting angry, he chuckles darkly. “you’re going to regret that. i was going to drag this out, princess, but i gotta fuck the brat out of you.” with that, he spins you around just as quickly—if not quicker—pinning you against the ground with your hands held above your head in one hand in a vice grip, the other groping its way down your body. he buries his face in your neck, salaciously licking the length of it. with his free hand—now stationed around your tits—he grabs at the hem of your top, pulling it up so everyone could see your lace bra. mockingly, he plants his face in the middle of your tits, moving his head side by side to motorboat you just as you had done to him, the soft plush of your tits encompassing his face.
the crowd cheers, even more so than they had when you had ripped his shirt off, as toji completely rips the top off as you squirm, making the removal even easier for him. you can feel all eyes on you as toji reaches for the clip of your bra, unhooking it and making your tits pop out. helplessly, you look at the screen, your writhing making them move in a jiggling motion, sweat shining and giving you the “oiled-up” look. he takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “what a sensitive girl,” he coos. “too bad she was too weak. now she’s going to have to take my cock.”
with that, he teasingly closes the distance between the waistband of your panties and his teeth, mouth snagging on the elastic. slowly, he drags them down, unveiling your glistening pussy for all eyes to see, and the crowd goes wild, chanting random requests at toji to do the most heinous things to you. as soon as you’re completely naked, he grabs you by the waist, propping you up against one of the corner posts. you’re now standing up, tearfully facing the arena as the wrestler kneels behind you, burying his face and nosing his way until your pussy, lapping up your wetness.
at the unexpected feeling of his tongue, you yelp, and toji slaps your ass. “stay still.” acquiescing, he licks up long stripes and shakes his head to grind his nose into your cunt, pleasuring you while humiliating you in front of everyone, forcing you to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel. while licking you, he groans. “fuck, this pussy is so sweet. i’ve run out of patience, fuck the performance part.”
with that, toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees on the floor and pulls down his pants. you don’t even look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.
he drags his cock teasingly through your folds, and then brings it out to slap it against your ass, humming appreciatively at the recoil. then, as if he’s lost patience, he’s slowly entering you, pushing against your pussy’s resistance as he penetrates you in front of the whole arena. “fuck!” he groans, getting a better grip on you as he pushes your head down on the mat and fully goes to pound town.
the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “the fuck this pussy’s so tight for? thought you were a slut?”
you’re tearing up, the feeling of his dick hitting your g-spot straight on making you clench hard, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pummeling you and his hands on your body, feeling you up. clearly, he knew how to pleasure a woman, and it made you all the more annoyed. you were fucked out, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “you’re not turning me on, small dick.”
he did not like that very much.
toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? why is she dripping, you whore?” as if to demonstrate his point, he brings his fingers to rub at your clit furiously, collecting the wetness that had dripped down from your hole then shoving his fingers into your mouth. “suck.” when you did just that, suckling at his fingers while hollowing your hot, wet heat around the appendages.
at that, he groaned. “what a little cockwhore. shoulda made you suck my dick instead.”
in retaliation, you bite his fingers, hard, and then spit them out. “i would’ve bit your micro off.”
toji hisses, grabbing the hair at your scalp and pulling on it until your face was up, his mouth at your ear. “just for that, i’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.” he speeds up, moving his hips faster and fast. the hand that wasn’t at your hair is now sneaking his way down your back, until you gasp.
because he’s inserted his thumb inside your ass.
“oh, ho ho,” he laughs mockingly. “you liked that, didn’t you?” you offer him no response, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of the sheer amount of pressure you were feeling down there, being doubly stuffed. by now, your orgasm has been steadily building because of the sheer power of toji’s stroke game, but as soon as he hits your spot one last time, your eyes roll back, causing you to arch your back and writhe due to the intensity of your orgasm.
you’re breathing heavily, toji fucking you roughly through it. once you’ve gotten a hold of your sense, you come back to reality as you realize that the crowd has adopted a rhythm to their chants, your fans and his screaming the same thing.
cum! cum! cum!
and toji only chortles as he continues your thirst, looking at you once again, and you can tell that he’s staving his orgasm back just after experiencing your clenches with the way he’s biting his lips, sweat running down from his temple to his abs. “what do you say, baby? wanna give the crowd what they’re asking for?”
all it takes is a whimpered please, and toji just does what the crowd asks of him. ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear toji declared as winner.
as you exhaustedly lift your head up, you see that cameras are out all around you, focused on the screen. you’re flustered when you realize the billboard is displaying toji’s cum seeping out of you.
A hand on your shoulder. “you good?” toji’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.
you let out a breath. “yea,” you laugh, out of breath. “good round.”
and he’s huffing, giving you a hand to get on your back. you can only lie on the ground as he barks for clothes to be put on you and for some water. then he turns to look at you once more, eyes twinkling. “wanna go for more in my hotel?”
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
a/n i was going to have him carry u up near to the stands where your fans could grab at ur titties but this is alr depraved as it is. now im going to take a breather from tumblr for the rest of this week becasue WHEW ch5 gojo yesterday and finished this today i am ON A ROLL. see you guys for next week's kinktober fic (comment if you want to be tagged)! much love<3
reblog and comments are much appreciated!!!!!
taglist:
@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae
@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom
@r0ckst4rjk
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fic#toji#toji fushiguro#aashi writes#divider by cafekitsune#gojo satoru#utahime iori#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#toji fanfic
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#I fucking hate most of my ex's shit and especially how he saw and interacted w Lev but one the only fuckin things I don't hate#and that I still hold dear to me. is him calling Lev ''The One Who Cries For Humanity'' back when my ex was blurring me and#Lev together (before I knew Lev) in order to. anyway. because like#The One Who Cries For Humanity is irrefutable a really core expression of Lev#I can't say my ex didn't know him well lmfao#ramblings //#Music //#leviathan //#Edit: I don't even actually know if that originally came from my ex or from Lev like. it's one of those names that just was so deeply True#that it came from Lev regardless of whether it was Lev and my ex or just Lev and then my ex copied it but anyway#Let's not get into those two.
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So you'll see tomorrow
A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.
Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice
~~~
So this was it.
This is how they would all die.
There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…
Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.
“Staeve.”
He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.
It scared him.
“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”
Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.
“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.
“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”
Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.
He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.
Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.
But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.
The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.
And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.
He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.
“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”
Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.
Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.
There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.
“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”
Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.
Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.
Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.
One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.
The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.
When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.
“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.
Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.
Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion ancunin#bg3 spoilers#fanfiction#astarion x tav#staeve#astarion x staeve#drabble#bg3
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 23: Regrets
Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 9,940
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst
A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.
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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.
“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.
You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.
You are.
“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”
You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”
Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”
Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.
“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.
You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.
It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.
The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.
“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”
He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.
He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.
He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.
It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.
“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.
“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”
“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.
“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.
“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.
“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”
The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.
John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”
There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.
“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.
It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.
There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.
They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.
He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.
All because Simon is gone.
How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.
How silly that idea had been.
It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?
Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.
John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.
John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.
“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”
“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.
“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”
“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.
“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”
“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .
“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.
“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.
Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.
“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”
“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.
“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”
Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.
“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.
He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.
“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.
He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.
He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.
What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.
“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”
“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.
“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”
He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.
“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”
You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”
“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”
“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.
“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”
“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.
He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”
A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”
You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?
Or is he coming back already?
You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.
Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.
“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.
“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.
“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”
It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.
You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.
“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.
“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”
He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.
Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.
Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.
You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.
Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.
It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.
They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.
He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.
“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.
You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.
It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.
A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.
You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.
You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.
They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.
Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.
You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.
You just want Simon back.
“I’m worried.”
“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”
He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.
“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”
He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.
“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.
“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”
John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.
“How do we teach her?” He asks.
“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”
“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.
“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”
He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.
Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.
He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.
Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.
He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.
He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.
He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.
He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.
“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.
“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.
He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.
“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.
“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.
He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”
You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.
Things have changed.
“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”
“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.
“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.
You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”
“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”
He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.
“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.
He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.
There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.
“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.
John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.
His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”
It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.
“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.
Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.
“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”
You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.
There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”
You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.
“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.
“When will you be back?” You ask.
“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.
“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.
“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”
“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.
He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.
“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.
A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.
“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.
“He's never called me that before.” You say.
“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.
You sure hope so.
It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.
You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.
You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.
He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.
You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.
You're not prepared for what he does next.
One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.
You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.
It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.
He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.
The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.
He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.
“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.
Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.
“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.
“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.
“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.
“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.
“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.
You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.
He's really back.
You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.
Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.
“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.
“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.
“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.
You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.
Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.
Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.
You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.
Always the job first.
Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.
“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.
“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”
You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.
“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.
“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.
He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”
“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.
Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”
You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”
Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”
“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”
Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”
You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.
Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.
Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.
Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?
“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”
“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”
“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”
You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.
Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.
You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?
You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?
It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.
You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.
You’ll have to make the first move.
Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.
One step at a time. One step at a time.
You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.
The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.
You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.
“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.
“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.
You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.
You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.
“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.
“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.
“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.
You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”
He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”
Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?
You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.
A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.
Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.
“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.
He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.
You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”
He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.
He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.
There’s no going back.
Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.
You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.
How silly that thought had been.
His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.
He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”
NEXT ->
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HEY! i knwo your on a break but just incase your bored could you write reader sending spicy texts2 streamer!ellie while shes on like a boss level, and then after ‘raging’ at reader for making her lose, she comes back as if the chat isnt questioning the sounds coming from the other room (silly girl forgot to mute)
hi. tumblr j deleted all my edits to this. i’m rage quitting and j posting this version i banged out in the span of 15 minutes 😀 anyways.
FUCK i’m sorry i know this took fucking forever and now i’m delivering mediocrity. loved this req either way this was smf to write. hope you enjoy sweet girl ;)
me when i disappear for a month and come back only to deliver pure dog shit. 🤪🤪
“-KID JUST GOT FUCKING DESTROYED, FUCKING BITCH.”
it was a late friday night, which meant ellie was streaming in her room, and you were supposed to be studying.
this week ellie was hosting a special in celebration of hitting 10k subscribers, and was grinding away to finally defeat Resident Evil’s final boss.
you could hear the chat dinging away with message after message, no doubt blasting ellie with compliments on her play, and the occasional comment thirsting over her hands or whatnot. it was nothing new— you’d seen the countless edits of her on your own social media page, and even had a folder of your own favorites saved away on a burner account.
“let me suck your fing- WHAT?! that is a crazy thing to say,” you could hear ellie’s shocked voice. “either way, chat, i’m married…”
“where’s my ring? UP YOUR ASS. c’mon, leave me be, guys,” ellie jokingly whined, bantering with her obsessive fanbase.
you held back a smile of your own, hand pressed to your mouth as she continued to scold the chat for their outrageously filthy messages. what a dork.
“alright alright, im muting the chat. love you guys but i gotta focus now! this is serious shit and i’m low on ammo now, hah-ha,” ellie spoke to the screen, words slightly muffled through the thin wall.
in the living room papers lay strewn across the floor, couch littered with eraser shavings and crumpled post-it notes, yourself splayed atop it all.
studying was a long-forgotten task you abandoned to instead sweep lazily through your camera roll, attempting to clear up some much needed storage.
you stopped abruptly at the thumbnail of an old video, in which depicted a downright sinful image of ellie’s bared neck for you as she arched back in pleasure.
you quite literally salivated at the veins that adorned her sweat-glistened skin, naked chest that was just covered by the play button in the center, goading you to click it.
quiet sounds of ellie’s desperate moans picked up, her head coming up look just above the camera and deliver the most pathetically fucked-out look.
“ple-ease can i cum, mommy?” she whined, voice breaking with every thrust of your fingers, wet squelching in the background a sign of her neediness.
“let me hear you, baby,” you heard yourself coo through the screen, the video becoming shaky as you picked up your pace— before suddenly ending on accident right as ellie let out a strangled whimper.
you met it with one of your own, frustrated with being left on an unfinished high, the throbbing at your core impossible to ignore.
your thighs shifted against one another, wetness pooling in your underwear as you replayed ellie’s final sound in your head over and over again.
your trance was broken by the sound of a frustrated groan coming from behind ellie’s door.
“fuck, i got it this time, i got it, swear,” she cursed as the game’s recognizable ‘revive’ audio cue played.
she could just do this again next week, right?
without a second longer of thinking, you quickly screen-shotted a clear frame from the video, shooting it ellie’s way and sending a quick text to follow.
~~
ellie choked on her own spit as she clicked the blur away. cough- “fuck-“ wheeze- “shit-“ hack- “sorry, guys, j choked on my own saliva.”
what the fuck? what games were you trying to play?
you groaned, hearing the firing of guns continue on alongside ellie’s commentary.
sliding your panties aside, you spread your legs to display the mess between them, snapping a quick picture.
you shot back another text.
“just one more hit, one more one more one m- i- fuck,” you hear ellie stutter. “oh fuck, yep… and i’m dead, ‘kay, sorry guys just give me like 5 i’ll be back. gotta take care of something.”
you heard the slam of her headphones hitting the table and a screech of her chair sliding back against the hardwood floors.
the door swung open, the look in ellie’s eyes making your heart race with anticipation.
“hey els, good game?” you asked innocently from your position on the couch, legs crossed with your arm resting over the back.
“good game? yeah, great game actually,” she replies sarcastically, sauntering her way over to you. “you didn’t happen to need something, did you?” she asks, hopping onto the couch and quirking an eyebrow up.
“me? no…” you trail off as she leans in to brush a kiss across your lips.
“no?” she tucks your hair aside, before leaning in to whisper, “you mind spreading those pretty legs for me then, baby? i just want a look.”
“els,” you whine, attempting to catch her mouth in a kiss.
she avoids it, dipping down instead to rasp words against your racing pulse, “show me.”
you uncross your legs slowly, a damp patch darkening the very center of your shorts.
ellie grabs the leg closest to her, swiveling your body in one swift move to face her direction, placing that leg over the back of the couch as she runs her other hand up your opposing leg.
“fuck, els, i need you,” you say breathlessly, hips bucking into the air.
“let’s get these off,” she replies with a squeeze, tugging at your waistband. “wanna tell me what’s got you texting me like a slut in the middle of my stream? was it the video? my video?”
she dips her thumb into your leaking hole, swiping your arousal up in a messy circle over your aching clit.
“ah- shit! yes, fuck, y’sounded s-so pretty in it, els,” you moaned, nerves overly sensitive from the wait. “please,” you cried out, unsure of what exactly you were begging for, but you needed more.
“so fuckin’ needy,” ellie laughs under her breath, relishing in the loud groan that escapes your lips when she replaces her hand with her mouth, tongue flicking rhythmically against your swollen clit to draw out more of those pretty sounds.
“oh-oh, god, right there, so good- mmph,” you rock your hips up, hand scrambling to tug ellie’s mouth even closer to you, if possible.
mmhm she moans into your pussy, the vibrations making you jerk up as your legs clamp tightly around her head. ellie’s hands dash up immediately to shove them apart, pressing them wide open with an iron grip as she practically growls, “you asked for this. so fucking take it.”
two of her fingers slide easily into you with the next pull on your clit, and you’re arching up in a manner almost identical to ellie’s in the video, whining nonsensically.
“you’re dripping, baby,” ellie tuts, “just couldn’t wait for me, huh?”
she continues to pump her fingers deep into you, curling them on every outstroke to slide against the spot that makes you see stars.
“c’mon, cum all over my fingers,” she teases, whispering sweet praises between kitten licks to your sensitive clit.
with your head thrown back, you couldn’t help but moan her name like a fucking prayer as your walls started to tighten, legs trembling under her grasp as she worked you through your high.
“that’s it, soak my fucking fingers.”
~
iluvgirls_moms: THAT WAS 1000% A MOAN
elliesleftarm33: guys what the fuck is happening 😀 ellie babes, i think you forgot to mute.
ewilliamsismy_wife: did anyone else j hear ellie’s name. are the voices getting to me?
elliewsjizzfr6996: how to be ellie’s gf no glue no borax? 🥲🥲
1toesuckersslurper: NAH ITS BEEN WELL OVER 10 MIN IM OUTTA HERE
yeahhh… looks like ellie owes her subscribers a real big 10k special next week. and an apology.
#wlw#lesbian#tlou#tlou2#ellie williams#the last of us#abby anderson#smut#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie smut#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams fic#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams tlou2#ellie williams fanfic#ellie willams x reader#gamer!ellie#seraphicsentences interacting w her girls#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#drabble
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[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)
note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)
.
Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.
It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality.
He was a Grand Prix winner.
Finally.
Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.
And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong.
He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.
But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below.
It meant the fucking world to Lando.
It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.
It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.
Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.
“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.
“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”
He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted.
However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could.
And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.
His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his.
“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”
Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”
“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.”
Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?”
“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.”
Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome.
His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
This.
This was what he had been waiting for.
This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him.
And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win.
So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip.
Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.
“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”
Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin.
“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”
Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”
Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”
“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”
“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”
Lando swallowed. “Or?”
“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”
“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.
And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it.
“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”
…
Anything you want.
That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted.
But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted.
He liked being the one that people worked to break.
So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.
“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”
“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?”
But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond.
“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”
The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him.
And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.
The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires.
He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for.
And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief.
But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s.
It was all about Lando.
“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”
“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck.
“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.
You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls.
“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”
The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.
“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”
“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”
Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass.
“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”
“Please,” Lando whined.
“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”
Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”
Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.”
So he did.
He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.
He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open.
He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.
He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you.
He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.
“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.”
Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.
“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”
One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral.
He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete.
It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started.
To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless.
To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream.
But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse.
“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”
And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”
You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.”
Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight.
“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”
“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”
“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”
Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”
“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”
“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”
Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”
Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”
“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied.
“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”
“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes.
“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”
“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”
“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.”
“So needy.”
“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”
“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.”
“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.”
“They would probably like that, mon amour.”
“You too, Charles.”
“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”
.
#charlandax#charles leclerc#lando norris#max verstappen#formula one#f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fic#lando norris one shot#lando norris smut#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen smut#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#formula one smut
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Instincts
[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link
rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue
----------------------------------------------------
Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.
In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----
It was hard not to have fun around you.
Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.
It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were.
Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.
He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.
Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer.
Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either.
Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.
But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.
Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know what to make of it.
With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous.
Ugh, how he despised the feeling.
He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck.
His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.
There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.
Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.
.
Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar.
Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.
How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp.
Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin. When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.
He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront.
Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.
“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”
You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.
“A little treat? You can do better than that.”
“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”
He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.
“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”
Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.
“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.
“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”
His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.
Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.
There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.
“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”
“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”
A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it.
“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.
“I love you.”
Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.
“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.
As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.
.
Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.
The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all.
He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted.
Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.
“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”
You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.
“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.
“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.
Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.
Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .
He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.
“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft.
You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.
“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”
His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.
He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.
“Who knew you were so needy?”
Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.
“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.
Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs.
All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.
“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard.
He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.
“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.
“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”
He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.
Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled.
A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.
His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.
You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine.
His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.
As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.
Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.
Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.
Oh, how he wanted to melt right there.
Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips.
“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.
“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well.
“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.
Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls.
His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.
You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.
The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves.
Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.
“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy.
“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead.
He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.
Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.
The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt.
He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.
Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice.
Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse.
Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.
#astarion#bg3#astarion bg3#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion brainrot#astarion x mc#astarion x you#baldurs gate iii#astarion fanfic#astarion romance#astarion smut#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 reader#bg3 smut#baldurs gate fanfiction
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Tags/warnings⚠️: Alcohol consumption, club setting, misunderstandings, angst if you squint, long haired Jungkook, Reader is a brat, angry Jungkook, unprotected sex (please do not practice that irl), rough sex, spitting!, breeding kink
Word count: 3.6k
🎧 : Sticky Rice-Lil Gnar, Reminder-The Weeknd, Party Monster- The Weeknd
For my loves: Tasara & @hobicakess 🩷
Beta’d by Shaq🫶🏾
A/N: I randomly found an edit in my gallery that inspired this whole thing. HEAVILY unedited bc I’m extremely sleep deprived rn so pls be nice!
Fic takes place about 4 years before "All mine" ! Enjoy?
Being married to Jungkook has single-handedly disproved every doubtful remark you've heard from everyone trying to convince you that it would be ill-advised to get married so young.
Contrary to what you've been told, the spark between has not died. In fact, you think that you find something new to love about Jungkook every day.
His love has never once not been intentional and gentle. You've never experienced being with someone who is so in tune with your body, with your mind, with your soul. Jungkook sees loving you as a competition; his only rival being his past selves.
There is no adventure that Jungkook would want to experience without you. There’s no bridge he wants to cross without holding your hand; no dance he wants to do without you beside him….or rather bent over in front of him as you are now.
The low lights of club Euphoria had switched to a dangerously deep shade of red, casting a sinful glow on your already ridiculously seductive face. Your eyes were low, whether it was from the few drinks you'd had earlier or the thick cloud of hookah smoke that floated around the club, Jungkook didn't know.
What he did know however, was that he had the most beautiful woman in the world throwing her ass back against him, in a dress so tiny that your cheeks were becoming more and more exposed as he thrust his hips forward to meet yours.
You move in sync with the music, your bodies in perfect harmony as the people around you become a blur. In that moment, it's just you and Jungkook. You and your husband.
You feel the cool air travel further up your legs as you dance. You reach behind you to pull your dress down, more out of habit than anything. You hear Jungkook groan as your hand ‘accidentally’ presses against his crotch, and you can't suppress the small giggle that escapes you.
It's a low sound, so realistically, Jungkook can't hear it that well over the near deafening music…But he sees the way your body shakes a bit. You shake the same way when you laugh at your own jokes or Jungkook's clumsiness; and he knows you well enough that he can practically hear the sound in his head.
Fuck he's in love with you.
He's so lucky to have you. He can't wait to live the rest of his life with you, to have a family with you, to take you home and fu-
His train of thought is cut off by the harsh vibration of his phone in the pocket of his slacks. He grabs your waist to stop your movements, and you stand upright. You raise a questioning brow at him.
“It's Namjoon hyung” he mouths, pointing to the phone at his ear.
You roll your eyes and shake your head. Namjoon had been on a work trip to London for the past few ( painfully long) weeks, and he still refuses to acknowledge the time difference. You two have grown to accept it, even if it means that he calls Jungkook at the most ridiculous (sometimes inconvenient) times.
The crackle of the receiver lets Jungkook know that Namjoon is talking, but he can’t make out a word he’s saying. Jungkook quickly realizes that he couldn't possibly have this conversation inside the club, so he gestures towards the door.
“I'm going to take this outside,” he says with his lips pressed up to your ear. “Do you want to come with me? Or will you be okay ‘till I get back?”
“I'm a big girl!” You pout up at him, pushing his glasses further up his nose with your pointer finger . “I’ll be fine, go take your call! Tell Joon I said hi.”
He nods and plants a quick kiss on the crook of your neck. He strokes the side of your face with his thumb and promises to be right back, before he turns on his heels. You watch as his head disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing alone and regrettably bored.
With Jungkook gone, you have nothing else to do since you two had come alone. You think standing around in a club like someone with a lost shadow would be incredibly lame. So you do what any unoccupied, married person in a club would do, you make your way to the bar to get a drink…or two.
By the time Jungkook gets back you're just a little tipsy.
You're not a stranger to alcohol per se, but unlike Jungkook who's been around enough liquor to know what blends would be good for you (strong enough to make you feel good, but not enough to make you lose your inhibitions); you don't know much (not enough if you ask him). You think of calling him, but your phone is in your purse… perched on jungkook’s shoulder.
So you do the most logical thing you can think of, and you order the prettiest sounding drink on the menu. Who can blame you?
You’re just a girl.
~
Two cups of Serendipity later, you're back in Jungkook's arms feeling absolutely giddy and incorrigibly horny.
The lights in the club are a dark blue now, and the music is even louder. Jungkook looks exactly the way he did when he left.
Sexy as all fuck.
Long hair tucked behind his hair on one side? Check.
Denim shirt? Check.
Tattoos? Double check.
Damn.
MINE! MINE! MINE!
You're not sure where he put his glasses, but you make a mental note to ask him before you leave. You do not need a repeat of the Geum putdwaeji Sikdang* incident. You know from experience that Jungkook and contacts don’t mix; and it would take over three weeks for them to get replaced…Not a fun time.
And right now? All you want to have is fun.
Jungkook’s mouth is moving, but your brain is moving too fast (or too slow) to read his lips and you can’t hear him. But his hands pull you toward him by the waist and you lean into his touch.
Your back is turned to his front as you move slowly against him the second you hear “she’s saying baby saenggakaji ma” float over the speakers.
Jungkook moves in sync with you as he always does, but his hands remain at your waist, almost rigid. His touch is shy and..Timid? His hands don’t trail up towards your breast, or towards your belly button. You find it odd, and downright ridiculous.
You grab his hands to take them upwards, and you’re instantly confused. There’s ink on both his hands? You pause.
When did Jungkook get a sleeve on both hands?
His lips brush faintly against your ear, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the absence of the cool metal of the rings that should be in his lip.
You don’t hear a thing except the erratic beating of your heart.
Then the inconceivable happens.
Jungkook stands in front of you, arms folded across his chest and eyes glaring at you through his glasses. The lights above you start flashing, and they bounce off his shiny, silver lip rings.
But if Jungkook is in front of you…who the fuck is behind you?!
You think you might faint.
As confused as you might have been about the situation, you knew two things for sure:
1. You needed to get as far away from not- Jungkook as possible
2. You're screwed.
Not-Jungkook seems to realize your mistake, and moves his hands from your waist so can step away from him; you rip yourself away from him as if his touch burns.
You open your mouth to say something to Real- Jungkook, but your brain goes blank.
You're too dunk for this.
Jungkook gives you a quick once- over to make sure that you're unharmed, before taking a gentle hold of your wrist. He tucks you behind him as he gives Non- Jungkook a piece of his mind.
The ringing in your ears has become so loud can't even hear the music anymore, much less their argument. Your brain feels like it's been doused in water, and you feel an unwarranted giggle making it's way up your throat. You swallow it down.
Now's not the time.
From what you can see, Real Jungkook and Not-Jungkook are having a very spirited conversation. Real Jungkook seems to be holding his composure quite well, until Not-Jungkook says something that causes his jaw to tick and his hands to form fists at his sides.
But instead of throwing a punch, Jungkook takes a deep breath and walks away, pulling you behind him.
Not- Jungkook waves at you.
You don't wave back.
Jungkook is silent as he leads you out of the club and towards your car. You say nothing as he opens the passenger door and watches as you sit inside.
“Do your feet hurt?” He asks
You shake your head at him. Still, he couches on his knees and unbuckles your heels, giving your calves a brief massage before he straps you into your seat. He closes your door and grabs a bottle of water from the back seat. He hands it to you as he settles behind the steering wheel.
“Drink.” He commands. His voice isn't necessarily angry but you can hear something bubbling beneath the surface. The restraint he's exercising is audible in his voice, and for some strange reason…it excites you.
He pulls out of the parking lot slowly, careful not to accelerate too fast so your water doesn't spill.
The fog around your brain is almost completely lifted by the time you've finished the bottle. Jungkook glances at you for a moment, and releases a satisfied hum when he sees the crumpled plastic in your lap.
He doesn't smile though.
His jaw is tense and his body is rigid in his seat. He isn't touching you and you don't like it.
“Jungkook,” you say, reaching over to touch his thigh
“Are you sure?”
You look at him confused. “Am I sure about what?’
“Are you sure I'm Jungkook?”
There it is.
You have the audacity to scoff at him.
“ Of course I'm sure it's you Jungkook. Don't be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?! You were literally grinding your ass all over some random dude you thought was me but I'm being ridiculous?!”
Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You know that Jungkook has all right to be upset, fuck you're upset at yourself for making such a terrible mistake. Jungkook has all right to reprimand you, but your mouth just won't cooperate with your brain. All the brat inside you heard, was Jungkook rubbing in something that you were already very embarrassed and flustered about and it just didn't seem fair.
If you thought about it…This was all Jungkook's fault really!
“ Well it's not my fault that you look like every other Korean dude with a perm!!”
The car comes to an abrupt stop as Jungkook slams the breaks.
“Excuse me?”
You roll your eyes and cross your arms at your chest. Jungkook’s eyes flick down to where your tits are bulging, but only for a moment of course.
“Stuttering is your thing Jungkook. You heard me.”
“You’ve actually lost your fucking mind.” Jungkook marvels at you, completely in disbelief at your misplaced attitude.
“I should have bent you over my lap and spanked your ass raw in that fucking club for everyone to see… But I let you off so easy, because I knew you made the mistake because you were drunk; and this is the thanks I get?”
“No.” You quip, “I’m not thanking you in any way.”
The tension between you is as thick as it was during the first 3 months of you two flirting with each other. You were both in college, desperately holding on to the title of “study partners ” even though you kept finding yourselves in compromising positions.
You were both playing a timeless game of cat and mouse. A metaphorical tug of war. Jungkook would push and you would pull; now it appeared that you were having a rematch.
He sucks the pierced side of his lip into his mouth.
You want him so bad.
Jungkook’s eye twitches.
“You’re asking for it, you know that?” He asks, face so close to yours that you can practically taste him on your tongue.
“Give it to me then.” You challenge.
Jungkook leans forwards, and you close your eyes in anticipation of a kiss.
But Jungkook doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, though not hard enough to break skin.
You moan at the sting, reveling in the way his soft tongue soothes his claim.
He pulls away and runs his thumb over your lip, eyes darkening.
“Did he kiss you?” He grits out.
You frantically shake your head no.
It's then that you realize just how bad this could have truly been for you. Jungkook was right. You were getting off easy.
Jungkook pries your mouth open.
“Tongue out.” he says.
You loll your tongue out and look up at him expectantly for what you know is coming. Jungkook looks directly into your eyes as he spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being told to; it's almost like a reflex.
Jungkook is pleased.
“Who does that taste like, baby?”
“Tastes like you,” you reply.
Jungkook hums.
He grabs your hand and brings it over to his lap. Your breath hitches when you feel the telltale rigidness of a boner in his jeans. Your heart skips a beat as you realize how painfully hard he is.
You need him.
“What does that feel like, baby? Hm? Does that feel like me? Or are you not sure?”
You whine as he rolls his hips up into your palm. “It feels like you Jungkook, I want it.”
Jungkook’s face contorts into one of mock contemplation.
You hate when he gets like this, when he pretends to consider giving you what you want when you both know it's not going to happen.
"You want to know what I think?" he muses rhetorically.
"I think I've let you get away with a little too much lately. I've always told you that your mouth is going to get you in trouble, but I've never made good on that promise, have I?" He chuckles darkly. "Maybe it's time I change that, hm?”
Your heart thumps loudly in your chest and you feel a shiver of anticipation zoom down your spine.
“Unzip me.”
Your body is in autopilot as you undo his zipper and lean forward to take him inside your mouth.
He pulls you backwards by your braids, and brings his hand around your throat.
“You're gonna take me in your mouth and you're going to keep it there until we get home.” He growls out at you
“No licking, no sucking, no moving. By the time we get home I'll be tattooed so deep in your fucking brain that you'll never mistake someone else for me ever again.” he bites out.
But in true Jungkook fashion he brushes his lips gently against yours, then he shoves his dick down your throat .
The ride home is filled with the obscene noises of you trying not to choke on Jungkook's cock.
Your eyes are watering and your nose burns from how hard you've been breathing through it. Your chest feels hollow and your jaw aches, but you're too fucked out to care.
Jungkook's cargo pants are thoroughly soaked from the way your saliva has dripped all over him. You're sure it's beginning to get uncomfortable for him to sit like this: cock hard and throbbing and in your warm, wet mouth. Yet, he sits perfectly still; unmoving.
His breaths come out in slow, controlled gasps, and it becomes exceedingly clear to you that It's taking as much effort from Jungkook not to snap his hips upwards and fuck your throat; as it is for you to not give him an actual blowjob.
The realization is absolutely riveting.
When Jungkook pulls into the driveway of your flat, he lifts your chin up , and his dick slides out of your mouth with a wet plop.
You both try to catch your breath, chests heaving and hearts thumping. Jungkook tucks himself back into his pants, and takes a deep breath before he gets out of the car.
Like the gentleman he is, he walks over to the passenger side of the car and holds your door open for you. But when you don't make any efforts to get up, he bends down and looks expectantly at you.
You pout at him and point to your feet.
You're barefoot. Of course.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, grabs you by the waist, and tosses you over his shoulder. You squirm a bit, and Jungkook promptly delivers a warning slap to your ass which settles you completely.
He opens the front door and kicks it shut behind him, waiting until he hears the security alarm activate before he moves towards your bedroom.
He tosses you on the bed and flicks the light on. Your chin is slicked with spit, you tits are spilling out of your dress, and the curly hair in your braids are sticky to the thin sheen of sweat on your face.
You look a mess.
A hot, beautiful mess that Jungkook made. His pride swells, along with another part of him.
Jungkook turns his back to you as he takes his shirt off.
“You know I love you right?,” he asks, putting his glasses on the nightstand. He tosses his shirt onto the ground and walks over to the bed. “You know that there's nothing in the world that could ever make me stop loving you?” He asks, now face to face with you as he strokes your chin.
‘I do,” you reply, your voice comes out more of a whine than you actually want it to.
“That's great baby, because this is going to feel like I fucking hate you.”
***
You both cry out when Jungkook finally slips inside you.
You've come to accept that no matter how many times you've taken him, how many times you will take him you'll never not be taken aback by the way his cock stretches you.
The lights are on, and so you can see Jungkook in all his glory. You can see way his biceps bulge and the way his abs tense. You the way his face contorts as your pussy practically suffocates him.
“ You like what you see baby?” He taunts, “had to make sure that you can actually see who's fucking you hm? Wouldn’t want you to make another mistake now would we?”
He spits the word out as if it pains him to say, and translates that pain into a vicious snap of his hips that has you lurching forward, clawing at his chest.
His thrusts are all the same. Carefully calculated and deliciously hard. His tips brush against your gspot with every fluid movement of his hips, and all you can do is whine and beg.
At one point Jungkook slows down to a torturous pace. Pulling out of you the moment he's just shy of your gspot. You can't handle being teased, you won't. You decide to up the ante.
“Jungkook,” you moan out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he grinds into you “please make me cum daddy”
Jungkook freezes and his hips stutter.
You've never called him that before.
For a moment you regret letting it slip out of your mouth. That's until you see the crazed look that comes into Jungkook's brown eyes.
He wraps his hand around your throat and starts pistoning his hips into you.
“Daddy huh?” He grits out as your juices start leaking down your thighs and unto the skin of his stomach “ is that what you want baby? Wanna make me a dad? Hm? Maybe that way people will keep their fucking hands off you huh?”
“Jungkook please!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes from how desperately you want the sweet release you've been denied.
“You gonna let me put a baby in you princess? Gonna let me stake my claim on you for everyone to see?” He demands as he stills to a stop inside you.
“Fuck, Jungkook yes! Please I'll do anything you want just please!” You cry
Jungkook finally drives his cock upwards, it's curved head hitting your gspot at the perfect angle. Your orgasm rips through your body so violently that you sink your fingernails so deep into Jungkook's bicep that you break skin.
You cum in spurts, coating him in a thick sheen of your arousal. Jungkook cums with you, no longer being able to resist the pleasure that your body was bringing him.
Jungkook's cum spills out of him in a long, steady stream. You feel the warmth as it seeps inside you, and you clench around him reflexively, determined to keep all of it inside.
“You wanna have my babies so fucking bad.” Jungkook mumbles into your hair, voice hoarse and laced with fatigue.
And do, you mean to say, , though it never actually comes out of your mouth.
Instead, you hug jungkook to your chest, legs wrapped securely around his waist as sleep consumes you.
Fin.
#jungkook x black reader#dad jungkook#bts smut#bts#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook
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Tokyo Drift - N.R
P: Racer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Fluff
Synopsis: In the heart of the underground racing scene, you are a passionate starter, known for your ability to ignite excitement before each race. When you first meet Nishimura Ni-ki, a legendary driver, you are initially intimidated by him. However during the races you capture his attention.
a/n: knowing you have the attention of someone like Ni-ki is exciting tbh.. ANYWAYS i am a HUGE lover of the fast & furious franchise so this was quite overdue!! (inspired by this edit : TikTok - Make Your Day)
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"I don't get why I have to be there for every race you do," you said, glancing over at your friend, who was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, the other casually shifting gears.
"Because you're the starter," he replied, his tone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"There are other starters," you shot back. "I'm not the only one."
He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he asked, "Do you have anything better to do than attend these races?"
You opened your mouth, ready with a rebuttal, but nothing came. After a beat, you closed your mouth and sank back into the seat.
"Yeah, exactly," he said, smug. "Plus, it's good for you to get out and meet new people."
The music from the radio blared a little louder as he cranked up the volume. You sighed, fiddling with the edge of your shirt.
"And it gives you more insight for the big race next month," he added, his eyes focused on the road ahead as the car sped past traffic.
"But that's weeks away," you mumbled under your breath, shifting your gaze out the window, watching the blur of lights and cars fly by.
"You know you’ll thank me later," he said, his voice laced with confidence as he pushed the car to go even faster.
As your friend parked the car, the tires crunching on the gravel beneath, you stepped out and took in the scene. Despite the late hour, the area was alive, glowing under huge industrial lights that bathed the lot in an artificial brightness. Cars were everywhere, a chaotic lineup of souped-up rides with booming music, others showing off their horsepower, engines roaring as they drifted in tight circles.
"Did you want to be a starter today?" your friend asked, leaning casually against the roof of his car.
You shrugged. "Sure," you replied, though your energy didn’t quite match the excitement of the crowd.
Walking away, you strolled past rows of cars, admiring their sleek designs and custom paint jobs, the polished metal gleaming under the lights. You ignored the catcalls from a group of guys leaning against a low-rider, keeping your focus ahead. Tonight, you weren’t dressed to impress—just something simple, thrown on after your friend dragged you out of the house. But your bandana was tied around your wrist, the familiar black-and-white checkered pattern standing out. It was your signature, the same one you used to signal the start of every race.
The energy around you was electric, the thrum of engines mixing with the bass-heavy beats from the cars parked nearby. You wound your way through the crowd, feeling a strange mix of familiarity and detachment. You weren’t really in the mood to be here, but this scene always had a way of pulling you in.
After a bit of wandering, you spotted some familiar faces—people you knew from past races, ones who recognized you right away. They greeted you with nods and half-smiles, pulling you into their small circle.
After hanging around for a bit, chatting with familiar faces, you eventually found yourself drifting toward the starting line. As the races kicked off, your friend waved you over, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like they need a starter," he said, tossing a glance toward the eager crowd of racers lining up. You could already feel the pull, the electricity in the air calling to you.
With a nod, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between two cars. The engines growled, their headlights casting long shadows across the pavement, illuminating your figure as you stood in the middle. Both drivers stared ahead, hands gripping the wheels, laser-focused on the moment. And then there was you—at the center of it all. The one who would signal the start.
You raised your bandana high, feeling the fabric tight around your wrist. The engines revved in response, their deep rumbling vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. All eyes were on you now. The weight of the anticipation, the intensity in the air—it made your pulse quicken.
With a swift motion, you dropped your hand, and like a spark igniting gasoline, the cars exploded forward, tires screeching and smoke billowing up behind them. The sound of engines roaring filled your ears as they sped past, kicking up dust and gravel in their wake. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you watched them disappear into the distance.
The thrill was undeniable. That moment when everything paused, when the world held its breath before you dropped the flag—it was exhilarating, addictive even.
Race after race, you found yourself sinking into the rhythm of it. Standing between two roaring machines, feeling the raw power they held, and knowing you controlled the moment they unleashed it. The vibrations from the engines, the cheers from the crowd, the smell of burning rubber—it all swirled around you, making you forget about the lazy mood you'd been in earlier.
After another race, you dusted your hands off, feeling the faint tremble of excitement still lingering in your fingers. You were enjoying yourself now, more than you’d expected. This was your element—the rush, the control, the fleeting moments where everything slowed before it erupted into chaos.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You stood with a group of women, chatting casually and enjoying the scene, when a familiar lime-green Mazda rolled up to the line. The car was loud and flashy, just like its driver. You rolled your eyes the moment you saw Haruto step out, all swagger and energy, hyping the crowd as if they hadn’t seen him race a hundred times before. He soaked in the attention, pointing fingers at people he knew, already talking trash with the other drivers.
“Here we go…” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed than amused. Haruto was good—everyone knew that—but his ego was twice the size of his talent.
Just as you were about to turn away, a sleek silver Mitsubishi pulled up to the starting line next. It immediately caught your attention. You whistled low under your breath, admiring the car’s perfect blend of black and white racing stripes that seemed to melt into the silver body like it was designed for this very moment.
“No way…” you heard Ryujin, one of your friends, murmur next to you, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
You turned your head to her, eyebrows raised. “What?”
She didn’t take her eyes off the car as she spoke. “He’s racing against Nishimura.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the name. “Wait… Nishimura?” You whipped your head back to the Mitsubishi, squinting to get a better look at the driver behind the tinted windows.
Everyone in the racing world knew who Nishimura was. His rise was meteoric. A few years ago, he’d been a no-name rookie, just another driver trying to make his mark. But that quickly changed. He became a legend on the underground circuit, with a reputation for being nearly unbeatable. But the man himself? You had never seen him in person. You'd only heard the stories—how he drove like he was born for the track, a natural who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.
Now, standing there, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of curiosity and awe. The Mitsubishi was sleek, powerful, but that wasn’t what had your attention. It was the knowledge that the man behind the wheel was one of the best to ever do it, and tonight, you’d finally get to see him race.
The crowd around you buzzed with energy, whispering Nishimura’s name like it carried some kind of magic. You felt the tension rising, a sense that something bigger than the usual street race was about to happen.
You glanced at Ryujin. “This is going to be over quick, isn’t it?”
She nodded, her eyes glued to the track. “You have no idea.”
As Haruto climbed back into his car, showboating as always, you suddenly felt hands on your back as Karina playfully shoved you forward. "Go on!" she giggled, clearly enjoying herself.
You shot her a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Don’t push!" you huffed, but your feet had already carried you forward, right into the middle of the two revving cars. The roar of the engines surrounded you, vibrating through the air and into your bones. Standing there, between Haruto’s lime-green Mazda and the sleek Mitsubishi, you felt a surge of energy.
With a stern look, you raised your arms to get their attention. "Now I want a clean race! From both of you," you shouted, pointing between them. You narrowed your eyes specifically at Haruto, who was known to pull sneaky tricks when he got desperate. "No tricks, or jukes."
Haruto revved his engine in response, flashing his usual cocky grin, though his eyes darted toward the Mitsubishi, and for the first time, you noticed a hint of stiffness in his posture. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy win.
"Ready?" you asked, locking eyes with him. He revved up again, the Mazda growling under the pressure, but his attention was split, clearly sizing up the competition.
Then you turned toward the Mitsubishi. "Ready?" you called, and the car’s engine roared to life, a smooth, confident sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t see through the dark windows, but you felt something different in the air—a tension you couldn’t quite place.
With a smirk, you raised your bandana high. "Go!" you shouted, waving it down. Both cars shot off the line like bullets, the roar of their engines drowning out the cheers from the crowd as they sped past you. Dust kicked up in their wake, but you stood your ground, watching as they tore through the track, navigating the turns with precision and speed.
As you turned to walk back to your spot, you didn’t know the effect you’d had.
Inside the Mitsubishi, Nishimura had almost missed his cue. The moment you’d stepped out onto the track, his focus had shifted completely. The fierce concentration he was known for had wavered. For a split second, he’d forgotten where he was, what he was doing, and what was at stake. All he could see was you, standing between the two cars, commanding the moment with confidence and authority. It was enough to throw him off—a rarity for someone like him.
It wasn’t until he saw you pointing directly at him that he snapped out of it, realizing he hadn’t revved his engine. He quickly corrected himself, the roar of the car snapping back into focus as he gunned the accelerator and sped off.
But even as he tore through the turns, effortlessly drifting and leaving Haruto in the dust, his mind kept slipping back to you. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing there,completely unbothered by the chaos around you.
By the time the race was nearing its end, Nishimura was far ahead, his car slicing through the night with ease. Haruto didn’t stand a chance, but the victory was almost secondary. Nishimura’s pulse raced with a different kind of adrenaline, one that had nothing to do with the thrill of the race.
His car roared as it crossed the finish line, its sleek frame gliding effortlessly under the neon lights. The crowd erupted into cheers, but his mind wasn’t on the race. As he pulled his car to a stop and cut the engine, the world seemed to quiet down, everything slowing for just a moment.
He exhaled, unfastened his seatbelt, and pushed open the door. Stepping out of the car, his lean frame emerged, his hair slightly tousled from the speed and wind. The crowd surged toward him, hyping up his victory, chanting his name, but Nishimura’s focus was elsewhere.
His eyes scanned the crowd, searching. It wasn’t the win that made his pulse race—it was you.
When his gaze landed on you, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His eyes held yours, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place, but it made your heart race.
Just as you were about to process the moment, the spell was broken by a familiar voice. "You ready to go home?" Your friend appeared beside you, jingling his keys with a grin. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, and turned to face him.
You blinked, shaking off the lingering intensity of Nishimura's stare, "Yeah," you nodded softly, a bit dazed, before following him through the crowd. As you walked away, you couldn’t resist glancing back toward where Nishimura had been standing, but to your surprise, he was gone. Just like that.
Huh... where did he go? you thought, scanning the crowd for a sign of him, but he had seemingly vanished without a trace. A strange feeling settled in your chest—curiosity mixed with something else. You shook it off and followed your friend through the throng of people, the night air cooling as the adrenaline from the race began to fade.
When you reached your friend’s car, you leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow. "Did you even race Lucas?"
He laughed, unlocking the car and shaking his head. "Nah, didn’t bother. But I had fun." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, and you groaned, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Ugh, I did not wanna know that," you said, scrunching up your nose in mock disgust as you slid into the passenger seat.
He chuckled and turned on the engine, the car rumbling to life as he drove off into the quiet night. The ride home was comfortable, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows through the windows.
When your friend finally pulled up in front of your house, you exchanged a quick goodbye. He waved as you got out, and you offered a small smile in return, still distracted. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, the events of the night catching up to you. A quick shower helped wash away the lingering dust and grime from the track, but it did little to clear your mind.
Finally, you collapsed into bed, your body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion pulled at you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You had been going to more races lately, every weekend like clockwork. The underground scene was alive and buzzing, with each race becoming more intense than the last. But there was one thing you noticed—a pattern that had begun to emerge. Every time you were the starter, Nishimura was there, lined up at the start with his sleek Mitsubishi, ready to race.
At first, you chalked it up to coincidence. But as the weeks passed, it became clear that it wasn’t. No matter where the races were hosted, no matter how different the crowd, Nishimura would be there. And without fail, he’d win. His driving was as smooth and precise as ever, but something about the way his eyes would linger on you just before he sped off—it left you with a strange fluttering feeling you couldn't shake.
You were about to head out when suddenly, the unmistakable wail of sirens cut through the night. In an instant, the entire atmosphere shifted. Chaos erupted as people scrambled to their cars, trying to get out before the cops could close in.
Panic surged through you as you scanned the crowd, looking for any of your friends, but the mess of people made it impossible. Cars were speeding off in every direction, headlights blurring together, and the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Your heart raced, and just as you started to feel the panic rise, a familiar sleek silver car slid to a stop beside you. The window rolled down, and there he was.
"Get in!" Nishimura shouted, his voice urgent but calm.
You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. Before you could even get settled, Nishimura hit the gas, and the car shot forward, weaving effortlessly between the other vehicles that were fleeing the scene. You gripped the handlebar above the door, holding on as the car sped through the narrow streets, sliding past cop cars with a precision that left you breathless.
The speedometer arrow kept climbing, the numbers blurring as the engine roared beneath you. You glanced at Nishimura, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused yet completely at ease. He was in his element, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled the car, as if it was an extension of him.
After a few intense minutes, the sirens grew distant, and it became clear that the cops had lost track of you. Nishimura slowed down, the adrenaline still buzzing between the two of you, but the immediate danger had passed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relaxing your grip on the handlebar.
Taking a moment to steady yourself, your attention drifted to the interior of the car. Everything was sleek, black, and incredibly well-maintained. The leather seats were soft beneath you, and a soft red glow emanated from under your feet, casting a warm, almost intimate light. You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the dash, admiring the attention to detail.
"You like it?" Nishimura’s voice broke the silence, casual yet with a hint of curiosity.
"I do," you said, glancing over at him. He was still looking at the road, but there was something about the way he asked that told you he was aware of more than just the street ahead of him. His attention was on you, even if his eyes weren’t.
"It fits the owner," you added with a small smile.
He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was rare but warm. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little softer now, as if the tension from earlier had melted away.
"You don’t usually hang around after races," you said, turning your attention back to him.
He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess tonight was different."
You tilted your head slightly, curious. "Different how?"
His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted gears smoothly, the car responding instantly to his touch. "I think you know," he finally said, his tone leaving little doubt that his reason for sticking around had something to do with you.
That fluttering feeling in your chest returned, but this time, it wasn’t from the rush of the race or the chase—it was from him.
As the car cruised smoothly through the quiet streets, the earlier intensity of the night had faded into a calm, almost comfortable atmosphere between you and Nishimura. You found yourself feeling surprisingly at ease around him, despite the fact that, up until now, your interactions had been mostly limited to stolen glances and brief conversations.
"You know," he said, glancing over at you as you watched the city pass by through the window, "you don’t have to keep calling me Nishimura."
You blinked and turned to face him. "Oh, right. Is that too formal or something?"
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "A bit. My friends call me Ni-ki."
"Ni-ki?" you repeated, testing the name on your lips.
"Yeah. I’d rather you call me that." His voice was casual, but there was something in the way he said it that felt personal, like he was inviting you into a closer circle.
"Alright, Ni-ki it is," you said, leaning back in your seat as you relaxed. "So, what do people usually call you if they’re not your friends?"
He smirked, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Depends. Usually something like ‘dangerous,’ or ‘the guy you don’t want to race .’" He glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "But I’d like to think I’m pretty easygoing."
"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You seem so easygoing with the way you handle a car at 100 miles per hour."
He laughed at that, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people hanging out—nothing more, nothing less. The conversation drifted from racing to random topics, a natural flow of words that felt effortless. He told you about the first time he ever drove a car, how he’d been obsessed with it ever since, and you shared a few stories of your own, mostly about how you had gotten into starting races.
At some point, you noticed the city lights getting closer and realized you were nearing your neighborhood. Ni-ki glanced at you, sensing it was time to ask the inevitable question.
"Where do you want me to drop you off?"
You gave him your address, and he nodded, making a smooth turn onto a quieter street as the roar of the engine softened. The car slowed to a stop outside your building, the night air still and quiet now that the chaos had long since passed. For a brief moment, neither of you said anything.
"Thanks for the ride," you finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt but not quite ready to leave just yet.
"No problem," he replied, his voice softer now, more personal in the quiet space between you.
You lingered for a second, unsure of what to say. Something about the night felt different—like it had marked the beginning of something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Ni-ki seemed to sense it too, the way he looked at you, his eyes lingering just a little longer.
"Take care," you said, finally breaking the silence.
"You too," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "See you around?"
"Yeah," you nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t explain. "Definitely."
With one last glance, you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. As you walked toward your building, you couldn’t resist turning back for a quick look. Ni-ki was still there, watching you, and when your eyes met again, he flashed you a small, knowing smile before revving the engine.
Without another word, he sped off, the silver car disappearing into the night with a smooth, powerful roar.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The past month had been a whirlwind. Your schedule had spiraled into chaos, with personal commitments swallowing up all your free time. You hadn’t even thought about the races, let alone attended one. But finally, a weekend had opened up, and you felt a rush of excitement at the thought of getting back to the underground scene.
Your friend picked you up, their car bumping with bass as they pulled up to your place. You jumped in, the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up inside you. The ride was filled with chatter about the races you’d missed, and as you drove closer to the city, you could feel the energy in the air building.
When you arrived at the race area, it was alive with activity, the night sky illuminated by the glow of headlights and streetlights. Cars were parked everywhere, their owners mingling and showcasing their machines. The sound of engines revving and laughter filled the air, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.
As you wandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds, you spotted Haruto leaning against a sleek, newly polished car. When he caught your eye, he grinned and pushed off the vehicle to approach you.
"How do you like the new car?" he called out as he got closer, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
You stopped, admiring the vehicle as he gestured toward it. "When did you get this one?" you asked, genuinely curious about the flashy machine that had a glossy finish reflecting the neon lights around it.
"Got it last week," he replied proudly, running a hand over the hood. "Pretty ain’t she?"
"She?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "You gendered it?"
He shrugged, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "What? It just feels right. She’s got curves, you know?"
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. "Sure, whatever you say, Romeo."
He laughed, shaking his head as you turned to walk away. "You wait until you see her in action! I’ll show you what she’s made of."
You waved him off, your eyes wandering as you continued to explore the scene. The adrenaline was intoxicating, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. You admired the different cars, from flashy sports models to classic muscle machines.
As you continued to roam the crowd, you felt the excitement in the air, but it was abruptly interrupted by a guy who stepped in front of you. He had an easy smile, but there was something off about the way he was looking at you.
"Hey there! What’s your name?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his intentions. "Not interested," you replied coolly, attempting to sidestep him.
He moved to block your path again, undeterred. "Come on, just a name. How about a number then? We could grab a drink later."
You shook your head firmly. "No thanks, I'm not interested."
His expression shifted, irritation creeping into his smile. "You sure? I could show you a good time," he said, stepping a little too close for comfort.
A sense of unease washed over you as his demeanor changed. "Back off," you warned, crossing your arms. But he didn’t take the hint; instead, he leaned in even closer, trying to assert his presence.
Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "She said no. You should listen."
Nishimura appeared, sliding a hand around your waist possessively. The gesture was both comforting and electrifying, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The guy's expression turned from annoyance to fear as he realized who he was dealing with.
The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between the two of you, then backed off, hands raised in defeat. "Whatever, man. She’s not worth it anyway," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Ni-ki. "Thanks, but I had it under control," you said, attempting to downplay the situation.
He raised an eyebrow, concern etched across his face. "Didn’t look like it. I hate seeing people act like that."
You opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity of his gaze made you pause. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race.
"I missed you," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a softer tone. It was as if the words slipped out without him even realizing it.
The admission hung in the air between you, leaving you speechless. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. You’d been excited to see him again, but hearing him say that made something inside you flutter.
"You… missed me?" you finally managed to stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly.
He looked a little sheepish, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Yeah, I mean—well, it’s been a month since I last saw you. Of course, I did," he replied, his tone shifting back to its usual nonchalance, but you could tell he was trying to cover up the slip.
"Right," you said, your mind racing. There was an undeniable connection sparking between you, and the thought of it made your heart race even faster.
The rest of the night unfolded in a whirlwind of adrenaline and excitement as you found yourself gravitating closer to Ni-ki. His presence felt like a shield, and you relished every moment spent by his side. Every time someone glanced your way with interest or a hint of aggression, you could feel his posture stiffen beside you, a silent warning in his gaze that made you feel protected.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
One evening, as you both leaned against his car, the night air buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming races, he turned to you, his expression serious. “I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with excitement.
You tilted your head, intrigued. “What is it?”
“I got scouted,” he announced, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “They want me to race for them in Japan.”
Your heart skipped a beat, a rush of joy surging through you. “That’s amazing, Ni-ki! You deserve it! This is such a huge opportunity!” You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, your excitement bubbling over.
“Thanks! I’m really excited,” he said, his smile widening. Then, his expression shifted, and he looked at you earnestly. “And I want you to come with me.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a flutter of nerves and anticipation at the same time.
“I want you to be my starter full-time for all my races,” he clarified, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I can’t imagine doing this without you by my side. You’ve been a huge part of my journey so far, and I want you to continue with me.”
Your heart raced at the thought, excitement and disbelief flooding your mind. “You really want me to come with you?”
“Absolutely. You know how much racing means to me. I need someone I trust out there, and that’s you,” he said, sincerity shining in his eyes.
“I’d love to, Ni-ki!”
His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that lit up his entire demeanor. “Really? You’re on board?”
“I’m absolutely on board! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.
He stepped closer, his arms opening wide, and without hesitation, you jumped into his embrace.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” he said into your hair, his voice slightly muffled but filled with excitement. You felt his joy resonate through you, and it made your heart swell even more.
“I know! It’s unreal!” You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked up into his eyes, both of you sharing that moment of exhilaration.
Ni-ki chuckled softly, still holding you close. “This is going to be amazing.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “We’re going to crush it together, right? You’ll be my lucky charm out there.”
You laughed, feeling a rush of determination at his words. “Absolutely.”
He grinned, his confidence infectious. “And I’ll make sure we leave them in the dust.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
When you arrived at Ni-ki’s place, you parked your car, and took a moment to admire the neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over everything.
Walking toward the open garage door, your gaze drifted to his sleek car sitting in the center, the hood propped open and revealing the beautifully engineered engine underneath. It was like a masterpiece of machinery, glinting under the fluorescent lights.
“Ni-ki?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the spacious garage.
Suddenly, Ni-ki rolled out from underneath another car nearby, his face lighting up with a bright smile. “There you are!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise and delight in his tone. He stood up, wiping his hands with a rag he pulled from his belt, the fabric stained with oil and grease.
You couldn’t help but widen your eyes, taking in the sight of him. He was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over a white tank top, which was now marred with grease and smudges. The way his muscles flexed as he worked on the cars made it hard to focus on anything else. “You work on the cars?” you asked, trying to divert your attention from how good he looked in that moment.
“Yeah, I like to tinker here and there,” he replied casually, picking up a tool from a nearby bench before rolling back under the car. “It’s kind of become a hobby!”
You hummed thoughtfully, walking around the car to get a better view of his progress. The vehicle was clearly totaled, having seen better days after a recent crash. Yet, you could see the way he meticulously worked to fix it up, and admiration swelled within you. “This one looks like it needs a lot of love,” you commented, kneeling down to peek under the car as well.
“It does, but I can fix it,” he said with a mix of confidence and determination. “It just takes time. Plus, I enjoy the challenge.”
“Have you always liked working on cars?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Pretty much. My dad and I used to work on our old cars together when I was a kid,” he said, his voice slightly distant as if reminiscing about those moments. “I guess it stuck with me. It’s therapeutic, you know? Just me and the car, figuring things out.”
You nodded, understanding how those moments could mean so much. “It’s great to have a passion outside of racing. Do you have a dream car you want to work on one day?”
He paused for a moment, considering your question. “Definitely. I’d love to build a classic muscle car from the ground up one day. Something that turns heads and leaves a mark on the road.”
“Sounds like a plan,” you said, feeling a surge of inspiration at the thought of him chasing another dream. “I’d love to see that happen.”
Ni-ki rolled out from under the car again, this time standing up to face you fully. “You’ll be there to cheer me on, right?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.
“Always,” you promised, feeling a warmth spread through you.
He grinned and stepped closer, wiping his hands on his overalls again, though it only spread the grease around more. “Well, since you’re here, you can help me out! I need a second pair of hands to hold the engine cover while I fix this part.”
“Sure! What do I need to do?” you said eagerly.
“Just hold it steady while I tighten these bolts,” he instructed, moving back under the car again.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The days leading up to the race in Japan had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure. Ni-ki showed you the sights of Tokyo, from the bustling streets of Shibuya to the tranquil gardens of the Imperial Palace.
As the day of the race approached, however, you noticed a shift in Ni-ki’s demeanor. He became quieter, more introspective, often staring off into space as if lost in his thoughts. You could see the weight of expectations resting heavily on his shoulders.
On the morning of the race, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression a mix of determination and anxiety. “Ni-ki,” you said softly, approaching him. “Are you okay?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous, you know? This is a big deal, and I really want to perform well.”
You sat beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re more than ready. Just remember why you started racing in the first place.”
He nodded, but his gaze remained downcast. You took a deep breath, wanting to instill confidence in him. “You’re going to crush it out there, I know you will. Just focus on driving and trust yourself.”
As you spoke, you could see his tension slowly ease, the fire igniting in his eyes once more. “Thanks for always being here for me,” he said quietly.
Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Win for me, okay?” you said with a warm smile, and watched as his gaze hardened with resolve.
“I will,” he promised, the determination in his voice returning. You could see that your words had reignited the spark within him.
As night fell, you found yourselves in the car, cruising through the darkened streets of Tokyo. The city was alive with neon lights reflecting off the sleek surfaces of buildings, casting a colorful glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hum of excitement in the air.
Ni-ki’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a newfound confidence, and as he navigated the winding roads, you could feel the adrenaline building between you. “Are you ready?” he asked, glancing over at you.
“I was born ready!” you replied, trying to keep the mood light, but the thrill of the moment was palpable.
He chuckled, a mischievous grin breaking through his earlier nerves. “That’s what I like to hear.”
As he drove, the anticipation grew heavier. You could almost taste the excitement as you approached the race venue, the sounds of revving engines and cheering crowds growing louder. You felt a surge of pride knowing you’d be right by his side, supporting him through every twist and turn of the race.
“Just remember,” you said, leaning closer as he focused on the road, “no matter what happens out there, you’ve got this."
His expression softened, and he turned to meet your gaze. “Thanks for believing in me. It means everything.”
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Always, Ni-ki."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You strolled around the venue, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The high-end cars gleamed under the bright lights, each one more stunning than the last. You took your time admiring the sleek designs and intricate details.
Trying to immerse yourself in the culture, you remembered some of the Japanese phrases Ni-ki had taught you during your flight. You approached a group of racers and smiled, offering compliments. While some responded with smiles and nods, others seemed confused, and you quickly realized that your limited vocabulary wasn’t enough to keep the conversations going.
As you wandered, you eventually found yourself standing alone, lost in thought about the upcoming race, when a tall guy approached you with a smirk. He started speaking rapidly in Japanese, gesturing animatedly, but you could only catch bits and pieces.
“Sorry” you said, apologizing. “I don’t understand," you added, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.
Instead, his expression darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice becoming more aggressive as he pressed you with questions you couldn’t comprehend. When he reached out and grabbed your wrist, panic surged through you, and you instinctively pulled away. However, his grip was too tight, and the pressure made you wince.
Just then, you heard a familiar voice cut through the commotion. “Hey! Get away from her!” Ni-ki stormed in, eyes blazing with anger as he pulled you behind him, creating a protective barrier.
The guy hesitated, then turned to Ni-ki, their eyes locking as they began to argue back and forth in rapid Japanese. You couldn’t follow their exchange, but the intensity of the situation was palpable. You rubbed your wrist, still feeling the remnants of the man’s grip as you looked from Ni-ki to the guy, who had turned an alarming shade of red, clearly taken aback by Ni-ki`s arrival.
Finally, Ni-ki turned away from the confrontation and guided you toward his car, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, urgency in his tone.
“What? What happened?” you asked, bewildered, still trying to process everything.
“I’m racing,” he replied shortly, his eyes focused ahead as he led you toward his Mitsubishi.
“Against who?” you asked, glancing back at the guy, who was now standing there with a scowl, his earlier bravado deflated.
“Against the creep,” Ni-ki answered, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.
Your heart raced at the thought. “Wait, Ni-ki, you don’t have to do this! It’s not worth it.”
He shot you a determined look, his jaw set. “I know. But he can’t just treat you like that. This isn’t just about racing; it’s about respect.”
You swallowed hard, realizing how serious he was. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, you took a moment to collect yourself, grateful for his protective instincts. “Are you sure you’re okay to race right now?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.
He turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m fine. I just need to focus. You’ll be right here, right?”
“Of course,” you replied, forcing a smile to reassure him, even though you were still rattled by the encounter.
You took a deep breath, standing between Ni-ki's sleek Mitsubishi and the other guy's car—a flashy, souped-up Honda that glinted under the neon lights. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through you. You could feel the energy in the air, thick with anticipation as both drivers revved their engines, the deep growl echoing around you.
"Are you guys ready?" you called out, trying to maintain your composure as you pointed toward both cars. Ni-ki shot you a confident nod, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The other driver, still wearing a cocky grin, gave you a thumbs-up.
As the cars revved louder, you turned your gaze to a guy standing nearby, holding a walkie-talkie. He was scanning the area, and when he got the go-ahead that the police were nowhere in sight, he shot you a thumbs-up.
Your pulse quickened at the sight, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You lifted the flag high, your heart pounding in your chest, and with a swift motion, you waved it down. "Go!" you shouted, your voice carrying over the roar of the engines.
Both cars shot off the line, tires screeching as they sped into the dark streets of Tokyo. You watched as they darted away, the headlights illuminating the path ahead like shooting stars against the night sky. The ground trembled beneath your feet from the sheer power of the vehicles, and you could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as the excitement enveloped you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Ni-ki gripped the steering wheel tightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other driver raced side by side through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. He could feel the intensity radiating from the other car, a flashy Honda that kept trying to tip him off balance.
“Come on, you think you can take me out?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The guy was aggressive, swerving dangerously close and attempting to nudge him off course. Ni-ki remained focused, expertly maneuvering around the obstacles in his path.
He drifted into a turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he counter-steered and weaved through the traffic. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers caught off guard by the reckless speed of the two racers. The other driver tried to play dirty, attempting to crash into Ni-ki's rear, but Ni-ki was prepared for it. He kept his cool, steering away just in time and cutting in front of the guy as they barreled through a narrow alleyway.
“Not today,” he said through gritted teeth, determination fueling every decision he made.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ni-ki noticed a police car trailing behind them, its sirens blaring loudly. His heart dropped as he glanced in the rearview mirror, the flashing lights reflecting the urgency of the situation. “No, no, no,” he repeated, frustration rising within him. He couldn’t let himself get caught—not after everything they had worked for.
The other driver seemed to notice the approaching officer as well, and in a desperate attempt to throw Ni-ki off his game, he swerved dangerously close, trying to shove Niki into the path of the police car. Ni-ki's heart raced as he saw the cop trying to close the gap, the pressure mounting.
With quick reflexes, Ni-ki shifted gears and accelerated, pushing his car to its limits as he turned sharply to avoid a collision. He felt the weight of the Honda trying to force him into a corner, but he countered with another drift, keeping his grip tight on the wheel. The other driver, frustrated and reckless, made a final lunge for Ni-ki's car, but in the process, he miscalculated.
Ni-ki watched as the guy’s car collided with the police vehicle, the impact sending both cars spinning. Metal crunched, and he could hear the screeching of tires against pavement. Ni-ki couldn’t help but glance back, disbelief washing over him as he saw the police car crash into a row of parked cars, sending them crashing into one another like dominoes.
“Holy—” he breathed, shaking his head. The guy had gone too far. He took a moment to process the chaos, his heart still racing, but he knew he couldn’t dwell on it. The adrenaline and excitement of the race was intoxicating, and he had to keep his head in the game.
Ni-ki refocused on the road ahead, determination burning in his chest. He could see the finish line in the distance, the crowd gathering, their cheers a distant roar that urged him forward. With one final surge of speed, he pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the power of the car respond instantly. He was going to win this race—not just for himself, but for you, the one waiting at the finish line.
As he crossed the line, the cheers of the crowd erupted around him, the thrill of victory washing over him like a wave. But even in that moment, he knew he had to keep his cool and stay grounded. After all, he was racing not just against the clock, but against chaos itself.
As Ni-ki crossed the finish line, the exhilaration of victory pulsed through him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he slammed the brakes, his Mitsubishi screeching to a halt. The roar of the crowd enveloped him, a wave of adrenaline and triumph crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hopped out of the car, his heart racing not just from the race but from the sight of you waiting at the finish line, a wide smile on your face.
“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he bounded over to you. He pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment. The thrill of the win felt amplified with you by his side, and he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of your presence.
“I did! You were amazing!” you replied, laughter bubbling from your lips as he set you down.
“Just doing what I do best,” he said with a playful smirk, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of modesty. But the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. He took a moment to soak it all in, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, but it was your smile that made his heart swell with happiness.
As the crowd surged around him, eager to congratulate the victor, Ni-ki turned back to you, his expression softening. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “You were my good luck charm.”
Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you felt a surge of pride wash over you. “I’ll be your good luck charm any day,” you teased, poking him playfully in the side.
The celebration continued around you, people shouting his name and clapping him on the back. Ni-ki basked in the glory, but even as the crowd cheered and celebrated, his eyes kept darting back to you, finding comfort in your presence.
From then, every race he entered seemed to follow the same pattern. Each time, he emerged victorious, his confidence soaring with each win.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Laying on the hood of Ni-ki's car, the warmth of the metal beneath you was comforting as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. The vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, creating a perfect backdrop for the moment you both shared. You leaned into Ni-ki, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your side, and you couldn't help but smile as you glanced up at him.
Ni-ki's gaze was fixed on you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of happiness and something deeper—something that made your heart flutter.
As you exchanged shy glances, the atmosphere shifted. The distance between you disappeared, and suddenly, you found yourselves inching closer together. Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low and tender.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
In that moment, everything felt perfect. You both leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss. It started soft and sweet, but as Ni-ki pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, it became something more. His hands slid around your waist, anchoring you to him as you melted against him, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace.
You could feel his heart racing against your chest, mirroring the excitement and passion that filled the air around you.
As the kiss grew more passionate, you felt Ni-ki’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you even closer. You sighed against him, savoring the moment, the thrill of it all—this incredible connection that had blossomed between you.
Finally, you pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling like fools, your foreheads resting against each other.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.
“Oh, really?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. “You seemed pretty good at racing; I thought you’d be good at kissing too.”
Ni-ki chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m still figuring out this whole romance thing. But with you? It just feels right.”
Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in for another quick kiss. The sun had fully set now, leaving a blanket of stars shimmering overhead, but the warmth of the moment lingered.
#enhypen fic#enhypen#nishimura riki#niki x reader#niki imagines#riki nishimura x reader#enhypen riki#riki x reader#fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen niki#fanfic#niki fluff#ni ki x reader#ni ki#ni ki enhypen
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You know, what's especially sad is the fact that while the importance of that bond is such that, as you had said, it becomes reductive if you attempt to assign one single category to it— and yet Anakin was esprate for even a single role of importance to be voiced and acknowledged. I find that while the role of Master & Padawan is immensely important, it still is, and always will be, Qui-Gon's initial choice, and not Obi-Wan. And I think that for Anakin, to be chosen despite the hardships, despite the rules and despite the consequences is such an integral and vital part of feeling loved and cherished.
So in the end, Anakin means the entire world and more to Obi-Wan, and yet Anakin never received an assurance in the form he had wanted. Even if the assurance would have been 'lesser' than the truth, it still would have been more than he had.... alas.
For us, as the audience, and for Anakin, from his pov— this is such a different story.... that's so.... well, you know, fucked. :')
Anakin never asked and Obi-Wan never offered.
That is a good a summery as any... this is agonizing. Thank you too 😩
Once in a while I think about that post. The role ambiguity is one of my most favourite bits about Obikin— and so recently a friend had sent me a song, that I think you might appreciate for the lyrics. That is if you don't already know it, of course. I'll Be Yours - Placebo.
I'll be your father, I'll be your mother I'll be your lover, I'll be yours
There's also a slower, more...anguished variant of this song, which makes me think of Obi-Wan even more. 😌
oh i absolutely love this, especially the slow one, you're right, as obi-wan's secret devotion that he cannot say but only try to mask. it's fitting to how their bond transcends so many categories that it's impossible to describe without being reductive, like it's such a strong bond, too strong to be as unstable as it was, and doomed to rupture spectacularly. father, mother, brother, teacher, best friend, superior officer, rival, everything save lover in the text, but we the audience can use lover as a summation of all the rest. obi-wan just loves him, defines himself in relation to him, devotes his life to him and his children. we see it, and anakin doesn't, and that's their tragedy, like anakin never asked and obi-wan never offered the truth of who they were to each other, and yet they belonged to each other profoundly all the same. this is agonizing, thank you!!!
#I swear I should have been shameless and also @ the person who had made the photo-edit based on this post....#This whole thing is under-explored in a serious manner‚ mostly it'll be written as kink only‚ and while it's nice to have...#I want the.....actual‚ real thing. Where the roles are so blurred in-between that neither of them even knows where they stand anymore.#When they are unwilling to give up any one of those roles.#When deciding to become lovers somehow seems to both expand and diminish what they are. It adds much but also takes away.#They want it all‚ but get none. Well‚ much to be said seriously about why the lack of 'boundaries' really karked them but you know.#Also hello 😌😌😌#intermundia#obikin#star wars#buns.hc#buns.all
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the investigation is turning out inconclusive. more later
#investigation is used jokingly. i just like to figure out facts that could EASILY be proven by asking the right person#some photos look edited but idk if i should give the photographer’s benefit of the doubt#it COULD be blur. it could be color editing over body mod#videos are hard bc it’s obviously only stuck for foundations + not ok. there’s great quality of not ok but it would be better to look at 1st#it seems i care a lot about this speicifc thing. it isnt the specific thing it’s the Act of looking.#q.txt
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