#he’s the only one who doesn’t desperately need adult help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tender-rosiey · 11 months

Text

“JUST LOSE CONTROL, LOVE”

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji being obsessed with you (gn!r)

a/n: ehehe, I hope you guys like this <33 (a bit suggestive ✨)

SATORU GOJO:

“satoru, what’re you?—“

you’re cut off as he pushes you against the wall. his eyes are glossed over and his breathing is heavy, “I am hanging on by a thread, y/n…”

only one thing is on his mind, it seems.

he takes a hold of your chin and makes you look at him, “i was never completely sane to begin with…but you’re going to make me get rid of the remains of it.”

his gaze is intense, and you genuinely wished that he had his blindfold on. your knees feel weak, but your hand cups his cheek, nonetheless, “and…what’s wrong with that?”

he lets out a raspy chuckle, “quite the temptress,” he picks you up and his lips find their place on your neck.

you fist his shirt, and try to hold back any sound from coming out. you feel him smirk against your skin with a murmur, “look who’s holding back now.”

“you live in my mind,” he mumbles as he trails kisses along your neck and shoulders and you quiver at his touch.

he pulls back and pecks your lips, but it is far from innocent. he has a devilish grin on his face as he nears your ear and whispers, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”

KENTO NANAMI:

another mission was completed by the kids successfully and they partied; however, gojo had a thought of hosting another party for the adults. consider it unwinding.

naturally, you were invited. you were very proud of the kids and were eager to attend the second party. honestly, you didn’t think anything would happen today, especially making out with nanami, the cool and collected man.

“nanami, people…” you whisper, but he doesn’t relent, lips kissing yours time after time.

he tilts your chin up, “forget about them; focus on me.”

he probably feels your grip weakening as he picks you up and seats you on the counter, “everyone is lost in their world.”

he, gently but firmly, squeezes your hips and pulls you to him once again, “so what’s wrong with us doing the same?”

he smirks lightly, something unfamiliar but very welcome, “plus its not like I can stop, dearest.”

he caresses your cheek, “you’re simply irresistible, my love,” a kiss on the cheek, “divine,” a kiss on the neck, “gorgeous,” a kiss on the shoulder, “I would need the utmost strength to resist you.”

he lets out a breath as he looks you in the eye and nears your face, “and I am a weak man.”

SUGURU GETO:

your husband’s descent into madness, thankfully, didn’t translate into how he treats you. he is always gentle and playful.

sometimes, though, that madness shows in some things. you can’t say that they don’t excite you.

for example, right now, suguru has yet to detach himself from you as he kisses you. his kisses are gentle but a little unhinged. they are soft but just a tiny bit rough.

one hand wanders while the other one doesn’t leave your waist.

he is desperate and can’t help but want to feel every inch of you.

“suguru,” you try to calm him down and to steady yourself but to no avail. he doesn’t relent, each kiss more eager than the former.

on the other hand, you just can’t compete against him.

specially as he smirks and he kisses your neck, “abandon rationality, honey,” his lips graze your neck as he speaks.

you don’t respond and you feel him chuckle and he looks up at you with lovesick eyes, “crazy suits you anyway.”

you hold onto his shoulders as he connects your lips once again. the passion flows from him and you feel so tempted to join him on the other side.

so you do.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

“my king,” you murmur as you stroke his hair.

“hm?” he grumbles as he looks up at you. His head is on your lap, and he was minutes away from dozing off.

you chuckle lightly and your hands, involuntarily, stop their movements. he doesn’t like it so he sits up and glares at you, “why did you stop?”

you pinch his cheek—one of the many privileges you have—and whisper close to this face, “I think you’re enraptured by me, my king.”

he laughs a hearty laugh that surprises you. It shakes his entire body, “me? enraptured by you?”

his hand cradles your head and pulls you towards him. he has a menacing grin on his face as he says, “then that makes you obsessed with me, doll.”

you smirk and place a kiss on his lips, “it’s a mutual obsession, my king.”

“at least do it properly.”

sukuna is rough and possessive. his hold on you is firm and you know he won’t let go.

you think that he wants to corrupt you, with the way he is kissing you and giving you no time to think about anything but him.

he fails to realize that you’re already corrupted as he is by you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

“mister toji, pleasure seeing you again,” you greet as said man enters your office, again.

he chuckles, “why the formality? I thought we were closer than that, boss.”

you quirk an eyebrow and reply swiftly, “we’re in my workplace; such formality is expected and needed especially for you, sir.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he chuckles.

“have you done what I asked of you?” you try and change the subject.

“who do you take me for, doll face?”

You smile humorlessly, “you’re in a good mood today, considering the nicknames and everything.”

he merely looks at you with eyes filled by hidden desire, something you’ve learned to notice from a mile away.

he takes a hold of your hand, “let’s take this somewhere.”

“toji no.”

he pays you no mind as he pulls you to the closet and locks the door.

you whisper-shout, “what’re you doing?!”

“nothing you won’t like,” he responds smugly.

“but you can’t just take me away like that!”

he places his finger on your lip, smirk never leaving his face. he holds your face and says, “cross the boundaries; they weren’t even there to begin with,”

you don’t get to respond as he smashes your lips together. his hand rests firmly on your neck and deepens the kiss.

you hold onto his shoulder weakly and he pulls back and chuckles.

“isn’t easier…to just give in?”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make you sleep-deprived

5K notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 4 months

Text

Heartdresser | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x braider!reader ― Warning: mentions of a brother, social media au mixed with regular writing, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader (she/her); - 2.8k words + social media setting. ― Summary: When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true. (based on this request)

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Being a Formula One Driver had its perks, from obvious and big things such as traveling everywhere to not-so-obvious and small things like having your hair stylist travel to you when you needed them. After becoming an adult and famous, it took Lewis a couple of years to come to terms with his hair, how to style it, how to take care of it, and how to embrace the texture and volume. He felt finally whole when he reached that point, one where meaningless comments on the internet wouldn’t make him rethink his path, goals, and achievements. Of course, comments hurt, but being comfortable with yourself helped, and that was something Lewis learned.

Now, his braids were part of him. The hairstyle being associated with his image in the blink of an eye. Something that made him feel handsome, and connected with his roots. Something that seemed to help other young black boys around, who started to see themselves as stylish and handsome too.

That’s the main reason why he was so frustrated when his braider called him to tell them they couldn’t make it to Las Vegas. And the thing with braids is that it's not only a style that connects you to your roots, and makes you feel comfortable, it is also a hair protection style. Though Lewis doesn’t tell people he has superstitions and somehow it is true, part of him feels like he races better when he’s feeling himself in all senses of the word. This means having his hair in the braids he’s been looking forward to for over two weeks is something important to him.

So in the heat of the moment, he decides to look for help on Twitter.

“Hi, you must be Lewis,” you smile, extending your hands, and the man in front of you takes it in with a grin.

“Hey, good afternoon,” his grip is still thigh yet soft on your hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for having me on such short notice.” He’s handsome and polite in all the ways one should be to be considered perfect, and you start to understand why your baby brother was drawn to admire his persona outside the tracks.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “It was actually my day off, but I had no problem fitting you in since it meant Dee would get to meet you.”

“Oh- honesty is something I find hot,” he chuckles and adds a grin for good measure, all while looking straight into your eyes and you can’t help but laugh.

Add funny to the list of things Lewis Hamilton seems to be.

“Who’s Dee, by the way?”

“It’s Aiyden, my little brother. I call him Dee,” you explain before adding, “He’s finishing a Chemistry project with a few friends at school. He was tempted to skip but gave up after a pep talk on how school is important, and I would take forever doing your hair just so he could see you.”

Lewis nods while you explain, and then he’s chuckling just like minutes ago.

“I don’t mind waiting for him with you,” he winks.

You’re not sure if he’s being friendly, funny, or flirty, but any of these F words coming from the black guy in front of you are surely making your heart skip a beat.

“You can sit here while I grab everything,” you point to a chair in front of a big mirror and Lewis does as said.

“Your hair looks fire,” he comments, watching from the mirror while you go through the small saloon gathering the packs of hair and combs you would need. “Did you do it yourself?”

“Thanks,” you stop just for a second, smiling when your eyes meet. “And yeah, I did it just last weekend.”

“You look even more stunning with this style,” and just like that he has you giggling again. “I mean it. I saw your profile picture and I was convinced you couldn’t get more beautiful, and then you opened that door with a smile and these amazing braids and I was like wow.” “You’re a funny one.”

“I’ve heard some women like their man funny, is that your case? If so, I’m ready to get into stand-up comedy.”

You double with laughter, shaking your head and biting your lips to keep the funny noises inside.

“Same style you’ve sent me the picture?” Lewis nods. “Any addition or preference?” you ask, starting to section his hair, and he answers no while making himself comfortable on the chair.

And even though you joked about taking forever just so your brother would catch Lewis, you ended up really taking forever because the driver in front of you would joke around and give you flirty comments and you couldn’t help but stop to laugh. The style he wanted was fairly fast, and his curls weren’t that thick, but still, you two did a small snack break when he ordered from a vegan bakery downtown. He was a fun guy to talk to, you came to learn that pretty quickly, which only added to his face card, which certainly was never denied.

It was one of the best sessions you’ve had in a long time.

You were just finishing the final touches, adding water to boil, and cutting the small strands coming off the braids, when the bell over the door rang, announcing your little brother’s arrival. He has an incredulous expression on his face watching his idol sitting on the chair of his sister’s salon.

“Hey man, how was the chem’s project?” Lewis asks and Aiyden turns around to the door, doing a small victory dance and, probably, the most hideous expressions to conceal his eagerness and happiness.

You and Lewis laugh.

“Omg, hi, Lewis!” He finally walks to you, shaking hands with Lewis. His eyes – big orbs gleaming with excitement.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi to your sister, young man?” with your hands on your waist you furrow your brows in the direction of the curly-haired boy who smiles, engulfing your body in a big hug. You hug him back before tapping his back and fake complaining about how he was crushing you.

Aiyden had just turned fifteen, but his love for sports seemed to help him defy your DNA and grow more than your family’s average size. He was almost reaching your height, and he sure was stronger than you, but he was still just your baby boy.

“These new braids are lit, man! Told ya my sister would make it happen,” Ayiden, who still has one of his arms around your shoulders, tells Lewis with a proud smile.

The driver moves his head confidently checking his hair in the mirror, “She was a great braider, and even better company, to be honest.”

Yn rolls her eyes playfully before going back to the water and mentioning for Ayiden to take a step back. She dips the ends of the braids into the water, waiting for a bit before taking them off and draping a towel around Lewis’ broad shoulders.

“So, your sister mentioned a chem school project. How was it?”

And just like that Ayiden and Lewis are talking non-stop while you tidy the salon, watching their interaction with a fond smile. The Brit was attentive to your brother, always ready to listen rather than speak, always engaging, and making Ayiden feel comfortable to share whatever he wanted to.

He probably had no idea, but that was an easy way to get to your heart. Ayiden was your treasure, and the fact that Lewis was treating the boy as if he was his little treasure too only added to the list of things you found amazing about him.

“...right, Yn?” Dee asked and you snapped out of your daydream.

“What?”

“Lewis just invited us to the Vegas GP, I said we were going, right? Please, please, please,” he pleaded in front of you with his two hands together as if in prayer, and you bit the inside of your mouth.

“Sunday?”

“No, the whole package, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday!” he explained excitedly.

“It will be fun, c’mon,” Lewis tried.

“You have school on Friday.” You reasoned, but Ayiden was quick to explain that Friday wouldn’t be until 6 pm. “You’re the one asking Kali to get my appointments from Saturday,” pointing a finger to your brother you accepted, knowing that your friend and coworker, had a space on Saturday for a hair or two and wouldn’t mind covering so your clients wouldn’t be hanging out to dry. Still, she would probably huff and yapp before accepting. That was something that Ayiden would now deal with though, so you were all good.

Ayiden jumped up and down the same way he did when he was ten years old asking you to get him a new pair of soccer jerseys, and you accepted. It was endearing.

You talked for a few more minutes, Ayiden got his picture, and just like that Lewis was saying his farewells. This time he didn’t shake your hands, rather hugged you and you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent and relish his warmth.

“See you on Friday, guys,” he waved, showing off his perfect set of teeth.

“See you, man!”

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton, youngdee, and others

yourinstagram had to drive the kiddo to school today or else he would stay home choosing his weekend outfits lol (traffic is a bitch btw, so if you can avoid downtown, pls do!)

view all comments

youngdee why would you expose me like that

⤷ yourinstagram I'm your older sister, ofc I'm gonna act like a mom ❤️😘

lewishamilton nice fit, ayideen!

⤷ youngdee thank you, man! 😎

⤷ fan4490 OMG KJSDKGJSKG

charleslechair she looks so cute

⤷ charleslechair scratch that I just went through her pics

⤷ charleslechair she's hot

⤷ charleslechair and super talented

wolffmickey so its confirmed, she's the braider?

schumachinho *on my knees begging* pls, do my hair too, yn, pls pls 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️

yourfriend I spent an hour on traffic today in a road that usually takes me about ten minutes 🫠

yourfriend2 bruh, ayideen is getting bigger and bigger, I feel OLD 😭

Friday rolled around quickly and you got to watch the total amount of fifteen minutes of practice 1 before all hell broke. Ayiden explained everything to you along with the whole controversy going on with the LA Gran Prix, which you were just a tad aware of. Lewis wasn’t able to spend much time with you guys that much was expected, but whenever he found a few seconds he would pass by, ask if you guys were ok, if Dee was having fun if there was something he could do, and just overall being the goofy Lewis he was during the appointment. Ayiden seemed to find the flirtatious glances and lines funny, and so did you, except this time it felt a little more real because you were sure a few people around overheard some.

It was an amazing night, you made friends with a couple of people from the crew, and Ayiden had the time of his life meeting a few other idols, and almost started hyperventilating when Hamilton told him he would take him to meet Charles Leclerc on Sunday.

Saturday was even more of a rush, you almost didn’t see Lewis, but he texted before and after quali. So when Sunday came you were still trying to navigate the whole paddock thing, but a bit more comfortable about it. Aiyden was still acting as if it was his own version of Disney land and it was his first day discovering the adventure world. You were loving it for him, of course.

“Nice outfit,” Lewis whispers right beside you, catching you off guard and making you jump in surprise. You were in a corner, just texting a friend, and checking your next few appointments while Ayiden went to meet Charles and you thought Lewis would be there until he came back, but it wasn’t the case.

“You’re sneaky,” you chuckled, straightening your instance and looking into his face only to notice he was already staring at you.

“You look cute when you’re focused,” he winks, before adding, “and when you’re scared too.”

“You look cute when you joke like this,” throwing back at him you didn’t expect for his brows to furrow in confusion.

“You think I’m joking?”

“Aren’t you?”

Lewis giggles. He giggles and you can’t help but smile with the sound and the way his lips part while his eyes squint. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?!”

“I think you’re pretty and smart, and talented. I was genuinely flirting with you,” his explanation makes your insides turn in giddiness, and as if it wasn’t enough Lewis smiles, eyes glued on yours before he asks: “Wanna go on a date with me?”

“A date?” You repeat trying to let the idea sink.

“A date?” This time it’s Ayiden’s voice and you turn alarmed, expecting to see a confused and jealous brother, only to find him with the biggest grin ever.

“Yeah, a date,” Lewis smiles briefly to Ayiden, before staring back at you, waiting for your answer.

You blink still unsure. Fair enough, he was hot, educated, smart, and he checked all the boxes, but that wasn’t any guarantee of a successful relationship, or fling, or whatever he had in mind. And also, his lifestyle wasn’t something you were used to. How would dating him work when he’s often traveling around to drive?

“C’mon, don’t overthink it, Yn.” Ayiden comes to help, standing beside Lewis and the Brit chuckles. “It’s THE SIR Lewis Hamilton,” he points, and this time Lewis laughs.

You bit your lips, not helping but letting a smile escape.

Lewis is in front of you, hands in his pockets, big brown eyes watching you, and the smallest smile gracing the corner of his plump lips. He looked great. And as much as you wanted to deny, there was a vibe going on.

You take a deep breath, smirking at him, “Get yourself a podium and we’ll talk about a date later.”

Ayiden’s eyes widened.

“Did you forget how quali went?! It’s gonna be hell to get a podium, almost impossible,” your brother tries to reason, but Lewis shakes his head, extending his hand to which you clasp in yours.

“Deal,” the driver smiles. “I’ll get you a podium.”

Lewis squeezes Ayiden’s shoulder and winks at you before disappearing into the garage to get ready for the race.

“One more reason why he’s the goat, see? If I were you I would go on a date with him even if he didn’t get a podium.”

You laugh, “For the few things I saw, he likes the challenge. Let me indulge him.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And he’ll get a podium.”

“It’s very unlikely, but I won’t deny the possibility. It’s Lewis after all.” Your brother leans on the wall beside you. “And it looks like he wants this date bad.”

“What makes you think this?”

“C’mon, he’s been flirting with you nonstop since the hair appointment.”

“I genuinely thought he was joking.”

“You can be so clueless sometimes,” your brother rolls his eyes playfully and you slap the back of his head.

“Watch it, young man, I’m still the oldest.”

And you were still right too, because hours later Lewis impressed everyone by getting third place. He kept everyone on the edge of their seats along with Charles who did a brilliant race, and just like that your brother was grinning devilishly your way because now you had a date with no one other than Lewis Hamilton who happened to walk into the garage just as you were handling a water bottle to Dee after he ran to watch the ceremony as if his life depended on it.

Lewis was smiling brightly at you, sweat mixed with champagne, but you couldn’t help but grin right back and lace your arms around him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m all sweaty, sorry,” he whispers, his tattooed hand flatting on your bag and bringing your body closer.

“It’s fine. Congrats on the race.”

“Congrats on the race, man!” Ayiden hugs him too and Lewis smiles, eyes still trapped on you. When your brother lets him go and stays rooted in place looking from you to Lewis you trap the laugh inside, and roll your eyes fakely, pointing for the young boy to give you both some privacy.

“So, looks like I scored myself a date, huh?”

You nod, taking a small step in his direction and trying to keep your hands from tracing all the small details on his face from this up close, “You sure did.” Your eyes were now on his lips, and Lewis grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already have a date, what else do you wanna ask me?” You’re teasing and he knows it because this time he’s the one to take a step in your direction. The tips of your shoes are touching, and you can hear the rustling outside, but it’s just you two in the corridor, and you hope it stays like this for just a little longer even though you knew he had an interview in a few minutes. His company and attention are something you enjoyed having.

“With how many dates do you find it ok to kiss someone?” His playful tone is there, but his expression makes your knees almost buck. “Can we count practice, quali, and the race as dates?”

And just like that he has you laughing and grabbing his neck to close the distance and smash your lips in a very much-awaited kiss.

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, lewishamilton, and others

yoursername best date night ever 🤍

comments on this post have been disabled

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this (Ily, C!)

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @scorpiobleue @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @soph1644 @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

#lh44 #millie writes #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fandom #formula one imagine #black!reader #f1 fic #formula 1 x you

620 notes · View notes

risuola · 8 months

Text

MUG CAKE CRISIS — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Every household has to face a crisis once in a while. Yours came at 2:48am and you had to sweeten your husband's way into peace again.

cw: good old fluff — 0,9k words

Every household has to face some kind of crisis once in a while. Some deal with children – the tantrums or cries that keep the parents awake and as they are forced out of their dreams and expected to face whatever it is that makes their little ones so sad, all of the monsters underneath the beds, the nightmares and fears, they simply take it head on. That’s what makes parents the heroes of their children life’s. Other people deal with partners or the opposite, the loneliness. Sometimes the walls hear things no one else shouldn’t. Arguments, screams and sounds of heated intimacy. There are different types of crises and your house is no foreign to that concept.

You woke up to the soft thuds coming from somewhere in the apartment. The whiney sounds following the, what you figured out to be, furniture noises gave you enough reason to get up from the bed. There was a crisis in your house happening right now, at 2:48am and you couldn’t just let it be, so you wrapped yourself in a blanket, too sleepy to put on clothes on your bare body, slipped into your slippers and padded to the kitchen.

The view that met your eyes was endearing in a way. Gojo Satoru, your husband and a man you love to the extent of infinity, was in the kitchen, wearing only boxers that he probably put on in a rush, because they were turned to the left side, with seams and tag on show. He was frantically ramming through every cabinet, every drawer, every little basket and bowl that could possibly hide something. There was a mess around him, boxes laying around gutted and empty, some doors half-open and most of the things on the countertop moved from their original place creating the overwhelming sense of disorder. But that was a problem for tomorrow, now you had to take care of the man-child strongest sorcerer.

“Satoru, baby,” you called him, but he was too focused on his hunt to even look at you.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he mumbled and you yawned onto the plushy fabric of your blanket. You approached him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face to his bare back.

“No sweets?”, you cooed, knowing perfectly how the one and only addiction of your husband can wake him at night. Satoru doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke and he only occasionally takes a sip from your coffee, but one thing he’s unable to give up, is sugar. He consumes so much of it, you’re in awe that he still has all of his teeth and in great health as well, and all of his blood tests normal, because you were sure that if you were the one who ate so much caramel, chocolate and whipped cream, you’d probably be dead before your teeth start to rot.

“Can you believe it?” he whined, audibly trying to force his voice to sound soft and calm, but you knew him better than that. He was tensed, soo annoyed, his heart was beating fast as if he was slowly falling into the state of panic, and you exhaled against his skin, hand smoothing over his stomach as you pressed your lips to his spine.

“Told you we need to go get groceries yesterday.”

“You’re not helping, y/n.”

“Oh, my poor husband. Sit down, I’ll make you something, how does it sound?”

He hummed in defeat, desperate to have anything sweet and so he sat down on the chair, as you quickly combined flour, cocoa, sugar and the one almost dying banana that had been laying there for a little too long. Some milk, vanilla extract and baking powder got mixed into the batter as well, and when the concoction was ready, you put it in the microwave.

Mug cakes became your saving grace for hard times like this one, when your husband would wake up in the middle of the night craving something sweet. Some might say, he’s a grown adult, he can manage without eating chocolate in the middle of the night. Well, no. Satoru is a baby trapped inside the 6’3 tall, muscular body, and he’d definitely throw a tantrum if his needs won’t be fulfilled. There was a time he almost teared up when the realization of his stashes being empty hit him.

Over the hot, steaming cake you scooped the last bits of vanilla ice cream that hid in the back of the freezer, away from his sweet tooth because you kept it for the time your period comes and you even managed to squeeze out a little bit of toffee sauce from the lonely bottle in the fridge. Yawning once again, you presented the masterpiece to your beloved man-child, with a spoon and he gathered you to sit on his lap, making sure you are tucked tightly into the blanket.

“I love you, you know that,” he mumbled against your forehead, before pressing his lips there.

“Love you too,” you smiled and lowered your head to rest it on his shoulder, while he began devouring the dessert you made him. You felt his body relaxing as the sugar saturated his bloodstream and you relaxed too, melting against his warm form and knowing that he’s once again happy.

“’m sorry I woke you up at that hour,” he whispered, when after catering his cravings, he carried you back to the bed.

You smiled, cuddling to his chest just few moments later. Oh, how much you love that man. So much, you were okay with getting up at nearly 3 am only to make him a mug cake.

1K notes · View notes

parkvcrs · 5 months

Text

Dating Thomas Hewitt Would Include…

WARNING(S): brief mentions of cannibalism, violence, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, restraints, etc.

NOTES: i recently watched ‘the texas chainsaw massacre: the beginning’ for the first time and while i didn’t like the main cast, thomas made it worthwhile. loved every second he was on screen. :))

• You don’t know how exactly, but out of all your friends (Chrissie, Bailey, Dean, and Eric), you were the only one that Thomas showed mercy to and when it came to hurting your well-being— whenever it was brought up, it was always instigated by his Uncle Charlie or “Hoyt”— he seemed always hesitant to do so.

- And if Thomas had to relocate you for some odd reason, he’d be gentle with you. Additionally, he’d go out of his way to bring you food, water, fix your hair to make you look all pretty, and even get a wet rag to wash the dried blood (not yours, thankfully) from your skin. It confuses you how a man coming from a disgusting and cannibalistic family was touching you as if you’d break. He’s strange, but endearingly because if he wasn’t, you’d be a goner.

• In your time in the hands of the Hewitt family, you made friendly conversation with Thomas the most. It took a while to get used to him and while he prefers not to talk, you don’t mind one bit. Since he’s practically out of touch with the rest of the world, you take it as your responsibility to catch him up on music, specifically the songs and bands you like the most, and promise him that you’ll show him every song you’ve mentioned when you get out of your restraints.

- It took some time before you were able to get out of your restraints. After all, you are the family’s captor, they can’t just have you running out of the house now.

- It took an ungodly amount of time before the family put their trust in you and removed your restraints. And to their surprise, you didn’t even try to run away.

- In fact, you could always be found following Thomas around like a lost puppy. It was truly a sight to behold. Luda Mae and a few of her friends that she’d invite over for tea would always make jokes about you falling head over heels for the boy whilst his uncle was less than impressed and would always proceed to make fun of Thomas and his condition.

• Thomas isn’t stupid. He knows how much of a scumbag Charlie is, but it’s mainly because of how much you voice on how you don’t feel safe around him, so Thomas protective over you and whenever you feel uncomfortable, you know to come running to him where you can be safe.

• Also… Thomas doesn’t know how to slow dance and while you’re not the best teacher because of your lack of experience, it didn’t make things any less special when you tried to show him the basics.

- It was a very special moment in Thomas’ book, one that he’ll cherish forever, especially when you decided to rest your head on his chest where you could his heart race.

• It shouldn’t go without saying that Thomas is incredibly touch-starved. After a childhood and young-adulthood of being completely touch-starved, he’s had turned into an adult who was both desperate for and terrified of touch.

- You had to ease him into it since he was initially afraid that you’d be rough with him but after reassuring him that there is no reason to be afraid, it’s easy sailing for Thomas. He’s handsy, to say the least. He likes to press his leg against yours when you sit next to each other at dinner, pressing a kiss to your shoulder while he holds you at night, hugging you from behind while you’re working on something, or fixing your hair — even though he knows you don’t need help with something like that…

//////

author’s note: MY BABY MYYYYYY BABY

613 notes · View notes

theeoriginals · 6 months

Note

Idea: Reader is part of the scooby gang (an adult doing them a favour or something - pls not a teenager it makes me cringe) and Klaus catches her staring (because obviously) and is cocky and flirty and likes riling her up

i just like you | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this was so fun omfg i love him sm

warnings: honestly sort of grumpyxsunshine but somehow klaus is the sunshine here ? teasing, taunting, klaus is a flirty menace, reader is super in denial, implied that reader is a vampire hunter but it's not really important, also this exists in some sort of strange canon universe so don't read into it too much, fluff, making out, a steamy-ish scene at the end, but it doesn't get too graphic so don't worry! no use of y/n!

She doesn’t like owing people favors. She doesn’t like when other people owe her favors, either, but people seem to think that trading things off is the best way to live, and she’s hardly got the power to change something so universally accepted.

She doesn’t like owing people favors, but in this case, it’s not something she can renegotiate. Alaric saved her life, and the least she could do is help him out with something.

Her view on that changes very quickly when he looks at her and tells her they want her to make a deal with the devil. In fact, she’d rather Alaric had just let her die than ask her to do anything with or for Klaus Mikaelson.

“I would quite literally rather die than do that, Ric,” She deadpans, givin him a completely unamused look that makes him grimace.

“No, I know, I know,” He holds his hands up, a desperation to his pleading tone. “It’s a lot to ask of you, but no one else can deal with him like you do. They’d end up dead, or something,”

“Why do you think I can deal with him any differently than you, or Damon, or something? I hate him just as much!”

“Oh, well, that’s just not very nice of you, darling,” The man in question drawls, smirk audible in his voice as they look over to where he’s sitting on Alaric’s couch, looking like he practically lives there. She supposes he technically did, for a minute. “Hate is such a strong word.”

She gives him a saccharine smile, tilting her head. “I’m so sorry, Klaus, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know that evil hybrids who kill anyone who breathes wrong could have feelings.”

Klaus’s smirk only widens at her visible ire, and he props his chin up on his hand as he looks at her. “I have every feeling for you, sweetheart,”

Her eyes momentarily widen to the size of dinner plates, and then she quickly schools her expression back into a flat glare, snapping her gaze away from him as she huffs unhappily. “You want me to deal with that all day, Alaric? By myself? I thought we were friends,”

“We are friends,” He stresses, shooting Klaus a warning look that the Original dutifully ignores. “That’s why I’m asking you to do this. All you have to do is make the drive up to Whitmore and get the rest of Isobel’s stuff– we need to see if she has any information on the cure, or anything like that.”

“Doesn’t Bonnie have that professor guy that was telling her a bunch of stuff? Can’t we just go to him?”

“Damon doesn’t trust that guy,” Alaric says. “And before you ask, no, you can’t make Damon go. He and Klaus will kill each other if they’re in the same vehicle for that long.”

“He’s right about that,” Klaus says, still happily in his place on the couch. “Damon’s got such a temper these days. Can’t even handle a joke anymore.”

She scrunches her face up, giving him an incredulous look. “The only jokes you make are about the time you tried to kill Elena,”

“How would we cope if we couldn’t make jokes about these sorts of things?”

Her incredulity only deepens and she drags her gaze back to Alaric pointedly, earning an exhausted sigh from the teacher. “Klaus,” He starts, that same desperation still in his voice. “Can we all just play nice? For once we have something to be united about– could you possibly not jeopardize everyone’s lives again?”

Klaus heaves a sigh, standing from the couch in a swift movement and crossing the short distance to where they stand. “Certainly. I’m nothing if not professional, you know this.”

“Uh huh,” Alaric deadpans. “Can you be… professional enough to not provoke her into leaving you stranded somewhere, or something?”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” The hybrid drops his gaze to hers, bright eyes alight with mischief. “So long as she stops pouting.”

She huffs, dutifully not pouting. Narrowing her eyes, she offers a hand out to him, ignoring the amusement that sparks in his eyes at her formalness. “It’s for the greater good of all of us, right? I’m sure I can suffer through anything for that.”

Klaus shakes her hand firmly, and she ignores the way it feels like he’s laughing at her. “I’m sure you can.”

──────

“I take it all back, I’m going to murder him, and then myself.”

“Hello to you, too. I take it it’s going well?” Alaric’s voice comes through the speaker of her phone as she walks beside Klaus, ignoring the crowds of college students they’re pushing their way past to head to Isobel’s old office.

“Oh, it’s going so well, besides the fact that our vehicle just broke down as soon as we got to Whitmore.”

She can practically hear Alaric’s wince of sympathy through the phone. “Can’t Klaus just compel you another vehicle?”

“You would think so, but I already tried that, and he said it wouldn’t be very cooperative of him to take advantage of people. He’s apparently all for the teamwork these days,” She shoots him a glare, face twisting into one of disdain when all he does is give her a wide smirk. “Alaric, I cannot be stranded here with him. It was one thing if it was a few hours, but I cannot survive any longer than that.”

Alaric breathes out her name on an exasperated sigh, and she tries to ignore the slight pin prick of guilt that stabs at her because of it. “Have you called a mechanic or anything?”

She bites the tip of her tongue roughly. “Yeah. They’re coming to tow it, and they said it’ll be like, tomorrow morning at the earliest before it’s done.”

“Can you survive the night? For real? Or do you want me to drive up there and get you?”

She nearly blurts out that she won’t survive, that he needs to come get her as soon as he leaves work, but she stops herself, eyes drifting to Klaus, who seems to be awaiting her answer as well. Sighing tiredly, she shakes her head, even though Alaric can’t see her. “I’ll be fine, I’m just being dramatic. Don’t worry about me, alright? I– Klaus and I will handle this. It’s no big deal, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” She reassures, stopping at the steps that lead to Isobel’s office building. “I’ll text you later tonight after we’ve had some time to go through some of the stuff, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you,” He sounds infinitely less stressed at her reassurances, and the guilt she’d been feeling dissipates easily. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She echoes the goodbye and quickly pockets her phone again, immediately turning to Klaus to give him a glare that she can’t even really call a glare because of the complete and utter lack of any real heat behind it. Gesturing widely to the building before them, she sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

The office is devoid of any lingering students, and she wonders if it was done on purpose. The only person there besides her and Klaus is the girl at the desk, and she racks her brain for the girl’s name, because Alaric had told her earlier before they left.

“Hi,” She starts, stepping in front of Klaus slightly as they approach the desk. “Alaric called earlier and said we’d be coming up to get some of Isobel’s research, I think?”

The girl stands, a small smile on her face as she nods. “Of course. I’m Vanessa, I was Isobel’s intern.”

Vanessa, she internally scolds herself for not remembering, before giving her name back in return. “And this is Klaus.”

The Original offered a charming smile, and she saw some degree of recognition flutter in Vanessa’s eyes as her smile grew wider, equally charmed and awed. “Lovely to meet you, Vanessa,”

“You’re Klaus Mikaelson, aren’t you?” She breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief as she leads them to Isobel’s private office. “Isobel was fascinated with the story of the Originals, but there wasn’t ever enough information to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.”

Klaus hums, practically preening under the attention. “Such are the consequences of living as long as I have. I can hardly remember what’s real and what’s not,”

Vanessa’s face lights up with an idea, and she steps towards Klaus excitedly. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? It would do our research a lot of good to have something new,”

“Oh, well–”

“We have a lot to do,” She quickly cuts in over their voices, offering a sharp smile to Vanessa. “But if we have time later, I’m sure he’d love to give you a tell-all interview.”

Vanessa’s smile dims slightly but she nods, gesturing for them to go into the open office. “It’s all in there. Let me know if you need my help with anything.”

“We will definitely do that,” She says, ignoring the twitch in her fingers as pushes Klaus into the office ahead of her. “Thank you so much!”

She shuts the door firmly behind her and lets out a sharp sigh, her eyes fluttering open where she hadn’t even realized they’d shut. She finds Klaus staring at her, and immediately looks away, ducking past him to head for one of the packed boxes in the office, collecting dust. “What?”

Klaus makes an amused little hum in the back of his throat. “Oh, nothing,”

“There’s clearly something,”

“There is, but I don’t think you’d enjoy hearing it from me,”

She halts her movements, hands falling limp on the file folders sorted neatly inside one box. Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m curious as to what Vanessa did to earn your disdain,” He says, shrugging lightly, keeping his voice purposefully aloof.

She rolls her eyes, returning to pilfering through the box, skimming the labels on the file. “She was distracting you. We came here to do something, and we need to do it. That’s all.”

He makes that irritating noise again, and she pauses once more, this time turning to face him fully. “What? What is so funny about that? Might I remind you, we need to learn about this cure for you just as much as anyone else.”

He smirks, picking up a box from the floor and putting it on the table in front of him. “Of course. But only if you admit you were jealous,”

She feels the blood in her veins freeze as she stares at him, and she knows there’s a dawning look of horror growing on her face. “Excuse me?”

“Just admit that you were jealous of that poor girl in there, and I will do as much research as you want me to. It’s very simple.”

“Jealous,” She echoes, her voice faint the longer she looks at him. “You think that I was jealous because some college kid was treating you like you were the lead singer in her favorite boy band?”

“Maybe not her favorite boy band, but certainly her favorite Original,” He corrects, grinning deviously.

“I wasn’t jealous!” She yells somewhat hysterically, face twisting as her pulse races. “I– I have no reason to be jealous, I would never be jealous, I’m not– I’m not jealous! Just– shut up!”

She waves a hand in his direction, ignoring the warmth in her chest that stings like embarrassment. “Just– shut up, and– and leave me alone! Do what we came here to do,”

Klaus holds his hands up in surrender, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Whatever you say,”

──────

They’ve booked a hotel for the night, despite the fact that she’d sooner sleep on the street than stay in a hotel with Klaus Mikaelson. But he graciously offered to pay for it, and she was determined to pretend like their conversation earlier had never happened and that meant acting like absolutely nothing was wrong.

It meant letting him order them room service, and sitting quietly while they ate. It meant letting him tease and taunt her like he normally did, and working overtime to give him the normal reactions she would have– a glare here and there, a not-so-nice name everywhere else.

Except now it felt like it was all wrong. It felt like she was being even more obvious than before. All because he called her out. Because he was right.

Just out of sheer principle, she couldn’t ever tell him that. The last thing he needed was that particular ego boost, from her of all people.

Their relationship has always been antagonistic, but Klaus has never been nearly as harsh as she has. And now that she’s spent the last six hours thinking about every single interaction they’ve ever had, she feels somewhat stupid for not even letting herself contemplate the idea that she could one day be jealous over Klaus Mikaelson.

But even in that same vein, she understands why it never crossed her mind until he pointed it out. It was non-negotiable, having any sort of relationship like that with Klaus. She’d been friends with Alaric since he first met Isobel, she couldn’t just go and sleep with the guy who killed his girlfriend, let alone have feelings for him.

The thought alone made her stomach swirl with guilt, but she was determined to not let Klaus in on any of her inner turmoil, considering he’d get some insane satisfaction out of the fact that it’s all his fault.

By the time they make their way to the private bedroom in the ridiculously grand hotel room Klaus had gotten them for the night, it doesn’t really register in her mind that they not only don’t have any sort of pajamas due to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be an overnight trip, but the only bedroom in the suite has one bed.

It doesn’t register in her mind until she’s already in bed, resigned to the fact that she’ll be sleeping in her t-shirt and underwear, and Klaus makes his way over to the bed like it’s no big deal.

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?”

He raises a brow at her, gesturing to the bed. “Going to bed. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us if you have any chance of making it back to Mystic Falls alive.”

She rolls her eyes at his taunting recollection of her complaints, and she holds up a hand, keeping the blankets tucked carefully around her hips as she sits up. “Why wouldn’t you get a room with two beds?”

“Because it’s one night, darling,” He drawls, signature smirk twitching on his lips. “But if you have some particular feeling that would make sharing a bed with me uncomfortable, then I–”

“No!” She cuts him off, feeling like she was just backed into a corner. “No issue. Just– keep your hands to yourself.”

He winks at her, and she ignores the way it makes her heart race. “Wouldn’t dream of it,”

She shuffles back down into the bed and turns onto her side away from him, suddenly too conscious of the fact that she doesn’t have any pants on, and that if someone had told her this morning she’d be pantsless, in bed with Klaus Mikaelson, she probably would’ve punched them and then spent the rest of her life dreaming about it.

It’s only slightly humiliating.

Once Klaus is settled in the bed, presumably undressed to the same degree she is if the shuffling she’d heard a minute ago was anything to go by, he turns the lamp off, encasing them in darkness.

After too long, her hip starts to ache the longer she lays on her side, and she knows there’s no chance she’ll fall asleep with it throbbing like it is, so she resigns herself to the fact that she’s going to have to move.

Careful of her spacial awareness, she turns onto her back, and then onto her other side, unable to stop her eyes from landing on the shadows of Klaus’s profile.

She lets out a small breath, shakier than normal, and clutches her hand against the pillow beneath her head.

“You’re staring,”

She groans quietly. “I am not,”

“You know, I don’t know if I should be honored or not that you don’t act like this with anyone else.”

She squeezes the pillow again, brows furrowing on her forehead. Her curiosity piqued, despite her best interests. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re horrifically antagonistic on a good day, and downright murderous on a bad one. But you don’t ever lose your temper with anyone else like you do with me,” He observes, voice unintentionally quiet in the privacy of the darkness. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even say it was laced with fondness.

Pressing her face into her pillow briefly to try and collect herself, she lets her eyes trace the curve of his nose, and his prominent cupid’s bow, backlit by the moon shining in the window. She wonders what he looks like beneath a full moon. She wonders if his eyes shine that burning yellow-gold color the entire night.

“You do it on purpose,” She mutters, trying to keep her tone from sounding as childish as it does in her head. “I’m not stupid, Klaus. You like riling me up.”

She hears more than sees his head turn towards her, but she feels the burn of his eyes on her face like the summer sun.

“Did you ever consider that I just like when you talk to me?” He asks, sounding entirely more vulnerable than she ever thought he was capable of being.

Her breath stutters on an exhale, and she knows he can hear the way his words make her entire body trip up. Despite being unable to truly meet his eyes in the dark, she searches for them anyway, seeking out the truth that may lie in them.

He murmurs her name, soft and sweet between the sheets wrapped around them, and she can’t stop herself from pushing forward into his space, draping herself across his chest as she presses their lips together.

She’s instantly satisfied to hear the shocked noise that spills from his lips, but it’s the last coherent thought she can form once he mirrors her utter desperation.

He steals the breath from her lungs, barely letting her gasp between his greedy kisses, his hands pulling her further into him, leaving her practically on top of him.

His hands slide up the fabric of her shirt, grabbing at the bare skin there, groaning at the feel of her moving beneath his touch.

“Klaus,” She gasps out, panting at the spit-slick sounds of their lips together in the quiet of the hotel room. “Klaus, I have to–”

She forcibly pulls herself away from him, unable to even blame him for the way she let herself get so caught up as she catches her breath, looking down from where she’s propped above him.

They fall silent, matching each other’s frantic but slowing breaths as their spilled-over tension finally seems to simmer out.

A huff of a laugh comes from beneath her and she frowns slightly, looking at him. “What?”

His hands clench where they’re still gripping her waist, and she visibly shivers at the rough touch. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

She instinctively slaps a hand against his bare shoulder, wondering how she hadn’t noticed he’d taken his shirt off when he got into bed. “You are such a dick,” She shakes her head, but she’s already leaning back in to kiss him again despite herself.

Klaus is quick to meet her halfway, craning his neck up to kiss her again, and she lets out a sudden yelp as he flips them around, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. “Let me make it up to you,”

She’s nodding before he even finishes speaking, and she thinks, tells herself, that she can’t be faulted for how quickly she forgives him after that.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson angst #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson smut #alaric saltzman #tvd #tvd fic recs #the originals fic rec #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson

514 notes · View notes

bella-goths-wife · 1 month

Note

So I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought about this and it’s ok if it’s too awkward but…since Velvette is the only female Vee- does that mean she’s the one who takes care of Pet during her “time of the month”? Maybe the only one who can actually understand her.

How do the Vs handle pets time of the month

Warnings: weird dynamics, abuse, power imbalance, menstruation talk, sexualisation of pet reader

You knew how to handle periods pretty well

Sure they were different because of your new form, but it was still the same principles as before

It used to be a real problem back when you were first brought to hell and living on the streets

You had to do anything to be able to get some product to help with the bleeding, literally anything

So you’ve learned to suck up pain pretty well and you’ve definitely learnt to tough out your time of the month

But you also learnt a thing or two about how to manipulate men on the streets, and your period became a handy tool in this effort

If you told Vox that you were on your period, he would act like an embarrassed dad who just wanted to get rid of the conversation in any way possible

He found that your period gave him a reminder that you weren’t a child and he found it to be a constant reminder of your sexuality that he tries to desperately block off

Your menstruation is just another reminder that your an adult demon and not a childlike pet, and Vox almost sexualises you when it comes to your period

His first thought that comes to mind when you bring up your period is that you could possibly be having sex, instead of acknowledging that this is just a biological process your body goes through

So he allows you to get away with much more then usual and will sometimes allow you days off to spend in your room

Valentino has an opposite reaction, your menstruation actually humanises you to Valentino in a way that disgusts him

Your menstrual cycle reminds Valentino that your not just one of his toys and that your a undeadly living demon

Your real and not just made to fulfil his needs

So he’d start up his usual routine of inappropriate touches despite never being sexually attracted to you, and you’d mention your period and that’s all his interest lost in you

He’ll wrench his hand back like he’s just touched hot fire before looking at you with disgust, only seeing a person instead of his personal plaything

He’ll make some kind of fetish joke that will undoubtedly make you uncomfortable before sending you to your room for the day off under the guise that he’s such a good boss and he doesn’t want you to work while in pain

But the real reason is that he cannot stand being around you when your humanised in his eyes, when he can smell the blood on you and know that even his toy has a biological component

Velvette does not let your menstrual manipulation fly though

As she’s also a female, she also experiences menstruation

And when she’s on her period she will expect for you to dote on her like she were a sick person in private while keeping her tough girl act up in public

She’d have you absolutely pamper her and even hold her for a while when she feels emotional

So when your on your period you sometimes expect the same treatment, until you are reminded once again that you are not an equal to velvette

She’ll work you the same amount and will work you even harder if she hears any complaints

If you do complain you’ll be reminded of your time in the streets and velvette will remind you that you managed to overcome that so working for her while menstruating should be no big deal

The other two would try and get her to calm down on you but she’ll only double down and claim that your manipulation tactics don’t work on her

But she will insist on you sleeping in her bed while your menstruating

She becomes overly protective of you when your on your period, she claims that men will sense it on you and take advantage of you

It almost made you laugh how she practically facilitated Valentino’s sexual assault but became overly concerned with your well-being from other demons

So it’s almost like she becomes more clingy to you once your on your period, especially if you two sync cycles

If you two sync she’ll be working you to the bone and expecting you to pamper her while also being overprotective and not letting any men around you

And she’d also be emotional so the nights that your sleeping in her bed she’ll demand you hold her for hours on end despite usually hating affection

She craves the warmth and acceptance of a female companionship and relationship, but does not want to put the work into building a friendship

And your right there, her little obsession

You can fulfil her social needs and her cravings of a connection while being sworn to secrecy and programmed to answer her every command

And your menstruation reminds her that someone could try and take you, in a similar way to Vox she associates your menstrual cycle with sex and sexualises you with more fear then discomfort like Vox

She fears that you’ll enter a sexual or romantic relationship and she’ll lose you to someone else, despite her never craving a sexual or romantic connection with you

She wants to be your friend but that would mean acknowledging you as an equal which is something that she refuses to do

So you’ll remain her pet, her loyal mutt

Her little obsession

Tag list :)

@perkypeony @the-faceless-bride @lilyalone @buttercupfangirl @corvid007 @fandomaddict505 @hazbinhotelxreader @sparkleyfishies @repostingmyfavs @aroomofmyown24 @ivebeenthearchersstuff

266 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 4 months

Text

Trailer Park Blues (one shot)

MINORS DNI, STRICTLY 18+

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | wc: 3.7K

*This is a reupload from an old blog. It's one of my most favorite stories.

Summary: You've lived in the trailer park as long as Eddie has, and you've been frenemies the entire time. Today, though, the heat of the summer drives you into the cool arms of the air conditioned trailer next door. (I am horny for summer as well as Eddie Munson)

Warnings: Smut with feelings. Teasing, before the smut, nothing overly mean. Depictions of poverty. There are no body descriptions of the reader, BUT she is wearing a string bikini, her body "jiggles" when she walks, she has breasts (no size mentioned), and she starts the story sunbathing.

A/N: I feel the need to thank @blueywrites and @pinkrelish for the initial encouragement to write this story after only reading the first 200 words when I literally had no plot in mind. There are many other friends that also encouraged and tossed ideas at me while I was figuring out if I even had something. Thanks, I hope it doesn't suck!

---

Hot days like this push you out of the stagnant air of the trailer. Stuffy smoke-filled rooms and the occasional fly buzzing around the trashcan in the kitchen. Some of the neighbors have little ac units sticking out of their windows, promising a reprieve from the unmoving Indiana summer heat – but not your hovel. No, that was an expense you couldn’t afford, and your mother wouldn’t.

The string bikini was your idea of rebellion, despite being too old to rebel against a woman that was never home and wouldn’t care if her adult daughter walked around the park in the nude as long as she brought home her rent money. The upside was less fabric to stick to your sweaty skin, the downside was that every exposed part of you sticks to the reclining beach chair you use for sun tanning.

The baby oil you have slathered all over your body has blocked every other summer scent your nose might seek out while you let the sun beat down on you. You already know you won’t last long and begin to think about heading down to the Hawkins Public Pool for a dip, as long as you can scrape together the couple of bucks for entry. A movie was always a possibility, but that would cost you even more of what you don’t have. You’re ready to start digging a whole in the ground to settle into, any relief.

Just as you push your sunglasses to the top of your head, trying to mentally work out your path back into the hell that is your home, you feel a presence behind you. You know who it is, your bikini is his siren call. You also know that he might have a little scratch today, since last weekend was full of grad parties that needed some herbal refreshments provided by Hawkins best boy.

“Whad’ya want, Edward?” It doesn’t even require a turn of your head to know his presence, it’s second nature to recognize him. Every day of your life in the park since the age of 9 has included him, for better or worse. Never a real friend, and never a true enemy, just Ed.

“Booboo, you’re going to give everyone the wrong idea in that thing,” playful and light but tinged with venom, his words are what finally draw your attention. The shorts he’s wearing are an old pair of jeans cut just above the knees, and the shirt an old tee that he hacked the sleeves off of. You two are a match made in white trash heaven.

“Wouldn’t want that, huh?” You flick your sunglasses back down against the bridge of your nose to obscure your wandering eyes, but Eddie makes no attempt to hide his own. “You didn’t answer my question, Edward, what can I help you with?” Your impatient hand twirls in a come-on motion while your hot eyes rake across his exposed biceps traveling down to his boney wrists and big hands.

“I’m bored and I saw my old friend Booboo outside, obviously desperately seeking the attention of someone in the tiniest bikini known to man.” Eddie reaches a hand out to play with the string at the base of your neck where the halter ties before pinching the edge of your sunglasses and tugging them off your face.

“Wow, you’re really hung up on that. You’re lucky I’m wearing anything, it’s so fucking hot today.” No words about it exchanged, but you start to reach back for your glasses while Eddie’s long arm reaches above his head to hold them out of your arm’s length. It’s a natural thing, what you do next. Something you’ve done so many other times you don’t really think about how much older you both are now. How inappropriate it might be. He has something of yours and you want it back. Your quick hand reaches easily into the loose arm hole and find its prize on instinct. Pinch hard and twist.

A swat, a yelp, a leg kicking yours out, and you find yourself wrapped up in Eddie’s much stronger arms. A sudden thought, the fact that you’re wearing nothing more than strings with small patches of fabric covering your most sensitive places, flashes in your mind. It makes your knees want to buckle. A small stumble met with a firmer grip from the boy standing behind you.

“Woah there, you alright?” A strong hand moves to steady your elbow and you sink back into your chair for a moment, and he’s crouching down to take a look at your face. His concern makes you heat up even more, because the face so close to your own is not that of the boy that used to tease you and chase you around. No, this is the face of a young man, and you’ve noticed those changes so much in recent years. Those big brown eyes have remained the same, open and full of shared memories.

It's your chance, so you take it, grabbing the frames from his hand while he’s still searching your face for any sign of distress. You put them on your face again, letting them shield any secrets you might not want him to see.

“Listen, Edward,” you give him a light shove to his shoulder making him wobble a little, “It’s hot, and I’m fine. Unless you have some sort of brilliant plan to turn the heat down, I’m gonna go take my third ice cold shower for the day.”

“Uh,” he’s turning a skeptical eye at the trailer behind you, the one you share with your mother, while you stand again using him as leverage. He stays where he is, his face level with the front of your bikini bottoms. You can see a thought, not unlike the ones you try to hide from him, scuttle across his face, “you guys still don’t even have one unit in that trash compactor you call a trailer?”

A jab and a miss, you know how everyone looks at your place. Even for the park, it’s low living. It’s been a rough go for your mom, and you both make do together. “Sorry, Edward, some of us don’t live in the lap of luxury.”

His laugh, a bark of joy, rings out. He looks like the boy right now, the boisterous laugh turned giggle fit at the absurdity of considering the Munson trailer the “lap of luxury.” He’s on his feet in a flash, suddenly close again, face still beaming.

“How about you spend some time with me in the Munson mansion, eh? Have a little smoke, you can read or watch a movie,” Eddie subconsciously licks at his lips, giving away the thoughts behind the words, “whatever you want, Booboo. I’m not doing shit anyway.”

Whatever you want is what he says. None of it passes your notice, the looks, the lips, the subtle leaning into your space, the hand at your shoulder absentmindedly rubbing your baby oil slicked skin. He probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it, the summer sun boiling his brain right along with yours.

“Yeah, ok.” The gaze between you lingers for another moment until a mosquito lands on his cheek. He doesn’t notice, but you smash it with a slap and laugh at his reaction. You show him the residual bug guts on your palm as explanation, “sorry, didn’t want it to bite you and mess up that pretty face.”

A spin of your heels and a job back to the porch of your own trailer gives Eddie the perfect view of your ass. You make sure to exaggerate the movements of your hips, letting his imagination run off to thoughts of his face between your soft thighs. The way your sweaty skin would taste against his tongue. By the time you’re jogging back towards him with the other half of your jiggling body on display, he’s sporting a semi and wishing the shorts he chose gave him a little more wiggle room.

“Edddddddiiiieee,” you’re pulling an oversized t shirt by the time you reach his side, and you find him a little dazed, “let’s go inside. We can order a pizza later, as long as you don’t kick me out by then.” Your elbow is hooked in his, an old habit from the days of tromping around the woods together when you were kids, as you lead him up the stairs to the sweet relief of the dark and cool Munson trailer.

“Oh, Booboo, you can stay as long as you want.” His admission is a light exhale of breath as he watches your hips sway up the steps in front of him. And you think, you’ll stay for pizza, you’ll stay for a toke, and you’ll stay for whatever else might be on the table.

You had greatly underestimated the effect the cool air would have on your sweat slicked skin. Your mostly bare ass is sat on the carpet of Eddie’s room where a small window air conditioner is clanking out polar air into the room. A sweet and acrid smell hangs in the air, no doubt a leak from the unit, along with stale smoke and dust. Crumbs cling to your skin as you shift your position, and your nipples are pebbled standing out against the layer of swimsuit and cotton.

“Goddamnit, Ed, have you ever heard of a vacuum cleaner?” You brush off what appears to be Cheeto crumbs from the backs of your thighs when a head appears next to your own hanging off the side of the bed. His hair tickles your shoulder where your shirt hangs off, and he’s close. He always gets so close when he talks to you. You can see every individual hair across the pale skin of his cheeks, every freckle scattered across the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, the maid’s on vacation. Uh –“ he scans your body awkwardly from his current position and clears his throat, “You feeling a little cold, Booboo?” Poniente, the question hangs for a moment until he nods his head to your chest where your body has betrayed you, and you feel your nipples peak even harder at the implication.

You give his head a weak shove as an effort to break the tension he created. He grabs his cheek in mock agony, and you stand letting your shirt drift over his face giving him a prime view for the briefest moment. You think you hear something akin to a snarl from Eddie before you crawl onto the mattress next to him. You grab the crochet blanket that rests off the far edge of the bed and wrap it around yourself.

“Much better now, thank you.” Your painted toes wiggle under the skin of his calves in an attempt to steal their warmth and you find that there’s a chill to his skin too. “You can turn that thing down, can’t you? You’re freezing, Edward.”

“Oh, we’re back to Edward again, hmmm.” He crawls his way up next to you, throwing back his comforter and covering himself. He holds it open in invitation to you, patting the spot next to him. “It only works on high, we can get warm under here if you want.” That tension is back, you both know what comes next, and your heart is thudding in your chest along with a deep and hard pulse in your cunt.

But this is Eddie, your Eddie Spaghetti, and he can’t take the tension either. A quick wiggle of the eyebrows at his obvious attempt to get you close to him, and you giggle and work your way under the big blanket. A reward he deserves for being his goofy self.

“Is this ok?” a quick and quiet whisper against the top of your head while a hand snakes around your center. You nod, not trusting your words at the moment. It’s so natural, the way you shift yourself into him. The way you tuck your nose into his chest and breath in the smell of him – sweat, smoke, old spice – distinctly Eddie. The rough pads of his fingers move along the exposed skin at the top of your hip and you’re feeling bolder, now that you know – this is real and so is he.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bed, Edward. How long have you been planning this, hmm?” Your own hand snuck its way through the wide arm hole of his shirt, and it’s playing with the guitar pick that always hangs at his chest. You let the back of your knuckles brush against his soft skin eliciting a little gasp from him.

“I wish I could say I planned this,” both of his hands find your hips to shift you, make you face him, “I never thought this was a possibility, Booboo.” Every inch, the turn of his face, hot breath on your lips – his eyes stay on yours watching to make sure it’s real for you. You want this too. He sees no hesitation, no concern, no confusion; only your honest to god lustful eyes and pretty lips hanging open in anticipation.

The kiss starts small, lips moving cautiously. Feeling each other with the tender skin, testing the waters until, until, until in unison your tongues enter the silent conversation and permission to move freely is granted. Eagerness quickly overtakes caution, your leg thrown over his sharp hip to pull him into you and press himself against you and your aching need.

Years of sexual tension and childhood crushing explode between your bodies. It’s not soft, the way his teeth bite at your lip, the way your hands scratch at his chest. It’s hungry and needy. You run your fingers through his soft curls and give a tug increasing in strength at the soft whimpering moan he lets go of at the action.

“Off.” Firm words from Eddie and a firm grip at the edge of your shirt, his eyes are black, lips red and kiss bitten. You sit up, and he plays with the folds of your soft stomach while you lift and toss the shirt, adding to a pile of clothes already in the corner of his room. He’s pulling you in again, fingers running against the small string that is the only remaining barrier between Eddie and your bare chest. “This is real cute, ya know? Real fucking cute.” He finds the knot at the back of your neck and expertly unties it with his nimble fingers, freeing you.

An immediate slow down happens as dark eyes wash over your form and fingers softly stroke up and down your torso, barely ghosting touches across your hard peaks. You feel your back lift from the mattress, chasing his touch, but he keeps moving lightly across your skin savoring the moment unbothered by your obvious need.

“Eddie,” the desperation in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that the bottom of your bikini is so drenched with your arousal it’s sticking to your lips. It’s uncomfortable, and his barely there touching has is deepening the ache inside. His eyebrows are knitted together at the sound of your voice. He’s lost in you already, just the sight of you laid out before him in his bed, something he’s wanted since the first morning he woke up surrounded by wet drenched sheets – a memory of a dream that featured you in a yellow sundress you wore so often a few summers ago.

“You really want this with me?” His touch is gaining surety while he waits for your answer, gripping at the soft mound of a breast while you rock your hips against nothing. “How do you want me, my sweet Booboo?” The sound of your nickname on his lips, a name he’s used to playfully ridicule you with for ages, is almost enough to hurtle you over the edge.

“I just want you, Eddie. Anyway, everyway.” Your words are a gasp, his warm and soft mouth take a nipple in your mouth, juxtaposed against the chill that still settles over the other from the overly cold air of the room. His lips suckle and nip at you, and again you find your body is pushing its way closer to Eddie. It’s not possible to play a game, no amount of willpower can hide how much you’ve wanted this. How long you’ve dreamt about him taking what he wants from you. A flitter of a thought, this is a dream, floats in front of you and quickly vanishes as the slight pain of teeth dragging across your sensitive skin bring you right back to the present and obvious reality.

It won’t do, this won’t do. Your hands tug at his shirt and shorts simultaneously. It all needs to go, and you can’t choose what goes first. Your brain is swimming in a lusty haze, but Eddie is still steady in thought.

“Hey,” his hand has a firm grip on your chin, calling you back to him, “you gonna stay with me? Where are you?” His eyes dart back and forth between yours until you’re back and focused on him. “I need you here with me, ok?”

You nod, breathe deep, and with more calm pull at his shirt. It’s gone in a flash, landing on top of yours in the corner. Your hand finds the waist of his shorts, and fiddle with the top button. You keep your eyes on his, staying with him. His mouth opens as the button *pops* and you unhook the teeth of his zipper.

“I’m here, Eddie. I’m right here, and I want you. Did you know that?” It’s his turn to look hazy and unsteady. Your words and your hands working his shorts and boxers off in one movement, leave him speechless. He’s putty in your hands, elbow drops and now he’s laid flat on the mattress while you work your way down his body.

You’re careful with the nipple you badly abused earlier, kissing around the still reddened and slightly purpling skin. Whispered apologies against his body, not just for the pain, but for waiting so long to let this happen. You lick your wet tongue across the black ink scratched across his torse moving closer to your goal.

His beautiful cock stands firm against his abdomen, already leaking in anticipation of your touch, matching your own need. Your bodies slick and ready for each other, begging, please let us do what we’ve been wanting for so long. Your intention is to meet his need with your own as you throw a leg over him, finally letting him feel how much your body wants this.

“Oh my god,” his fingers move to find out for themselves, not trusting the skin of his thigh to tell him, moving the fabric of your swimsuit to the side, and dipping between your lips to feel. “Oh you’re so wet.” His cock twitches in answer to your own drenching arousal. He doesn’t make a move, he waits for you.

Your fingers reach for one of the knots at your hip, free yourself completely from the ruined suit, but his hand stops you. It’s your Eddie in front of you, and he’s shaking his head eyes wide a grin spread across lips that mouth, “keep it on”.

You’re giggling again and kissing him against your laughter. Until he undoes it again with a rock up of his hips, the length of his cock rubbing against your slit and your laugh ends in an obscene groan.

You sit up, eyes narrowed down at the smirking boy as he rocks up again into you. You reach your hand behind you, gripping him and watch his mouth open in a gasp. You don’t need anything more, you’re soaked already. You push the suit aside, and run him against your slit once, twice, three times before you twist your hips up and slowly sink down onto him.

“Oh my god,” an exclamation in unison as your bodies connect. You let yourself take him in completely, fluttering at the full feeling. You can feel him pulsing inside of you, the slightest curve of his tip touching that hard-to-reach spot hiding deep inside of you.

It’s sloppy and unpracticed, but you’re both so drunk on one another it doesn’t matter. The sounds of skin on skin, whines, and moans while you rock into each other. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your aching nub send you hurtling towards a powerful orgasm.

“Eddie, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you’re uttering on an inhale, and Eddie is practically crying at the sound of your voice. He’s pulling you down chest to chest, mouth at ear.

“Cum with me, baby, cum with me,” he’s panting against your skin, arms holding you tight against him and a flash of white spreads across your vision. Every part of your body is screaming out for him, and you only vaguely hear the literal scream coming from your mouth as your body tenses and you pulse around him. Every flutter of you around his cock brings his own release pumping deep inside of you, warm and sticky.

You stay with his arms wrapped around you and your pussy wrapped around his cock as you both ride out aftershocks and you slowly come back down to earth, to Hawkins, to this bed in this too cold trailer on the hottest day of the summer of 1986.

You eventually lift your hips enough to release him, letting his softened length rest against his thigh, but you stay in his embrace. He pulls the comforter, lost at some point while your connected bodies sought out pleasure, over your shoulders. His mouth is still close to your ear, and he’s humming in satisfaction. Neither of you care about the sticky and cooling mess between your bodies.

When you rouse, you find Eddie sitting in a folding chair, fingers moving against the strings of his acoustic guitar in silent and careful movements. You don’t move, watching the tendons of his fingers move, his lips singing a barely whispered tune. You think that maybe the summer’s not so bad, maybe the trailer park is actually the only place you’ve ever wanted to be. No where else has this perfect view.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff

263 notes · View notes

dreamywriter143 · 1 year

Text

My Dearly Detested

Status: Prologue (7 part Mini-Series, 0/7)

Genre: Enemies to Lover troupe, Angst, Rude Neteyam, Comforting Lo’ak, some fluff, Romance, violence.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, Battles and cursing. Rude Neteyam😭. Reader is older then Neteyam by 1year.

Parings: Neteyam X Y/n (Reader)

Summary: Neteyam hates Y/n. He never liked how she always bested him in everything and never once sought the praises he was accustomed to. She had no one, yet she had everyone in the palm of her hand. He despised her, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. The but happens when the RDA threat comes and Jake tasks her with watching his sons? Neteyam can’t help but grow a newfound hatred.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: I know I said I would post this after I finished ‘Precious Tsyeym’ pt1 and pt2, but I just couldn’t wait!! So I opted to post the prologue in the meantime. Enjoy!!

_________________________________________

“Where are you!??!” Y/n calls, desperately trying to track her way through the foliage around her. Her steps are rushed and hasty as she tries to make her way to the clearing. Her heart rate quickens at the thoughts flashing through her head.

Where was he? Why did he disappear? Was he injured? Is he safe?

Feeling her steps falter she takes a deep breath in. She had to find him, she had to make sure he was ok. A boost of determination causing her to steps to speed up as the leaves and twigs beneath her feet snap at the force she ran with.

Just as she makes it to the clearing a large stick smacks her on the head, with great amount of force causing her to stumble backwards. Her hand reaches up to rub the wounded area, feeling the sting of the hit. Groaning in pain she glares at the perpetrator who smirks upon eye contact. He griped the stick tightly, standing above her at the staggering height difference.

“You have to be quieter Y/n! You gave away your position and you were running around like a baby Talioang. Just because you are in a hurry, doesn’t mean you can forget all your training.” Tarsem teases, his tone playful yet it still had an edge. He was her teacher after all.

Y/n huffs out, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “I kinda panicked! You vanished. I thought you left me, or worse. Got hurt!” She argues, her lower lip jutting out at the thought of Tarsem hurt. He was like a brother to her. She wouldn’t know what to do if he got hurt.

Her eyes furrow in fear as Tarsem tosses the stick away, taking a step towards her. His eyes softened at her words but the smirk has yet to leave his face. He ruffles his hand through her locks, effectively removing some leaves that was struck in between them.

“I’m a great warrior Y/n. You gotta have more faith in your teacher. One day, I’ll be the Ole’tekayan’s right hand man! You’ll see” He beams at the thought, causing a smile to twitch at Y/n’s lips. Y/n knew of his dream, and she believed it would come true one day.

Despite being 16 years old, Tarsem was a a force to be reckoned with. His skills separated him from all the other children in his age group, rivalling some adults even. He was allowed on hunts and raids due to all his accomplishments. Not only was he a great hunter, but also a great teacher. He had many students who worshiped him. He had also already gotten many blessings from his elders, Jake Sully included.

They nicknamed him ‘Tarsem the wise’. He was calm, collected, and ruthless when need be. He was wise for his age, which the Na’vi were proud of.

Y/n’s eyes gloss over with admiration at the boy, the boy who was a man now. The very same boy who took her in under his wing to train, to become strong like him. She was grateful.

Losing her parents to the Great War , Y/n had been raised by Tarsem’s parents. Their families were really close, and when Y/n’s parents bravery cost them their life they in-trusted their only daughter to Tarsem’s parents. Granted they did a great job raising her, but so did the clan.

The Omatikaya banded together to collectively raise her, she learned how to weave from Naya’il, she learned how to mount a Pa'li by Ma’luk and she also received Tsahik trainings from Mo’at herself. Who was very fond of Y/n’s mother. The girl was raised with love and affection in many manners, that’s why she felt so compelled to become as strong as possible. To protect her people, her clan.

All that was remanning was being a warrior, which she always wanted to be, ever since she had bagan watching Tarsem show great promise. She wanted to become like him, be strong and noble on her own so the aching hole in her heart can be mended once she is truly happy. Truly gaining her spot amongst her people.

She felt as though if she achieved the most, she could feel closer to her deceased parents. Her father was a great warrior, known for his strength and bravery. And her mother was a great healer, Mo'at's student who had been just as great. She grew up hearing their praises, which only motivated the girl to make her parents proud. Thus gaining the love and fondness from within the clan.

Even Jake and Neytiri were fond of her, though busy with Olo'eyktan duties and taking care of their children, they always included Y/n for training and even dinners. That being said, Y/n was a very friendly child growing up. Everyone was her friend, everyone ended up becoming her friend. She had this calming air around her, letting those near her feel at ease. She was very close to Kiri, and loved Lo’ak thinking of him as her baby brother though he was only 2 years younger. Then there is-

“Tarsem?” A voice calls, stepping into the clearing. His expression of question quickly turned to that of distaste once his yellow hues handed on Y/n. Scrunching his nose in mild disgust. His eyes trail from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. He snorts in annoyance at the leaves that were caught within her locks and the mud splattered all over her body.

He averts his eyes quickly with a prominent scowl. As if the mere sight of her caused his entire mood to sour. He looks up at Tarsem, who was waiting patiently for his next words.

“I was looking for you. I didn’t know you were….busy” he says carefully, rolling his eyes slightly. Y/n looks down at the mud between her toes. Shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably. She didn’t know what she had done, but the eldest sons distaste for her was very obvious. It was as if he never tried hiding it. And she didn’t know why.

“I’m sorry Neteyam. I was training Y/n. Did you need me for something?” Tarsem replies casually, not noticing the underlying tension in the air. Neteyam huffs disapprovingly. He glares at Y/n, a sneer almost breaking through.

“Why are you training her? She cannot even wield a bow” he points out causing Y/n to flinch. She looks up, her eyes meeting those of pure hate. She swallows nervously. She wanted to respond back, but something about Neteyam’s eyes and the stiffness in his posture caused her mouth to clamp shut.

Tarsem’s tail twitches at his tone but he chooses to hold his tongue. He was speaking to the figure Olo'eyktan. The very leader he hoped to one day gain the respect of. Neteyam was already doing great at 9 years old. Being able to wield a bow and his precision being out of this world. He seemed to have inherited his mothers archery skills. He was already starting off so strong, who knew what he would accomplish as he grew up to become a man.

“Well, Y/n is my student. I’m obligated to train her. You didn’t state why you are here? Alone.” Taresem takes a step forward standing in front of a shocked Y/n. Squeaking at the sudden movement she keeps her head low. Not bothering to see how the eldest son of Toruk Makto would react.

“I was hoping to train with you. Father wishes for me to polish off my skills. I don’t see why you are busy with her when you could be with me. I’d give you far less trouble” Neteyam says calmly. Tarsem nods in understanding. He didn’t want to argue. If Neteyam wanted to practice with him he’d do so in a heartbeat.

Tarsem looks over his shoulder at Y/n who realizes her session with Tarsem had ended before it even started. Her eyes wide with sadness as she awaits his final orders. She couldn’t help but jut her lower lip out in a pout, her ears laying flat against her head.

“I’ll stay back with Neteyam. Please get home safely Y/n. I promise to make this class up to you” he says softly. Y/n nods mechanically. She doesn’t spare Neteyam a glance before she sprints away from the clearing.

Her eyes stung with embarrassment and anger. Who was he to talk about her like that? Regard her in such a way? What has she ever done to him? She was older, why didn’t he respect her? And why did he ruin her training session, the session she’s been looking forward to all week.

Angrily wiping her tears away Y/n marches her way home. The only home she knew of, Tarsem’s families hut. As she disappears she couldn’t help but feel the burning sensation of someones eyes on her.

She knew it was Neteyam. It was always Neteyam, always glaring at her as if her presence was of that of a pest. Y/n's eyes squint with determination. She didn’t care when, she didn’t care how long it would take. She vowed to become the best warrior possible, for her people. To honor her parents. For her family that raised her. And so Neteyam could maybe one day learn to respect her.

As a warrior of the Omaticaya.

———————————————————————

A/N: HIIII!!! I hope you guys enjoyed the prologue of ‘My Dearly Detested’. It’s going to be a 7-part Mini Series, where each part will be roughly 1-3k words each. I also have some information that you guys should know for the next chapter:

There is a 10 year time-skip from the Prologue to Part One

The ages will be: Y/n (20) is 1year older then Neteyam (19) and 2years older then Lo’ak (18). Kiri is also (18) and Tuk is (10). Tarsem (26) has a 6year age gap with Y/n.

633 notes · View notes

haikyuufanficwriting · 4 months

Text

Chapter 7: Kuroo (NSFW)

Prompt: Reader working non-stop and (Character) has to ‘tire’ them out. (NSFW) Character: Kuroo

_________________

You’re a workaholic. Anyone who’s ever met you could notice it at first meeting. You’re a typical type A person. You fit the stereotypical mold perfectly. This isn’t really a surprise to you though, you’ve been this way for as long as you could remember.

Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve never been able to take a proper break. You simply didn’t know how to. There always seemed to be something else to do, something to improve on, something to fix…

And while you profited from this trait in your professional life, it did horrendous effects on your personal life.

“Kitten, it’s almost midnight.” You don’t even glance up from your desk, engrossed in the report you’re writing, as your boyfriend curls his arms around you, silently beckoning you to come to bed. You sigh lightly.

“I’ll be there is fifteen minutes Tetsu.” You mutter absentmindedly, and Kuroo snorts, knowing very well that you’re saying anything to sate him.

Truth be told, Kuroo understood where you’re coming from. Becoming the spokesman for a famous a volleyball team has led to many late nights, but the difference between him and you were he knew when and how to take a break. Kuroo could kick back and forget about all his ailments, while you could barely go ten minutes without going into a frenzy about some files you had to go over. He couldn’t really remember a time when you weren’t like this. Even back in high school, you tried to make sure you had perfected every subject, every assignment. When you joined the volleyball team as manager, you stayed back longer than any boy practicing. Doing anything from helping cleaning and maintaining the gym, to help making as many practice matches as you could.

Many times he’d have to force you to eat and to sleep, among other things. Kuroo had gotten so used to it, it became routine to pick up both you and Kenma just to make sure both of you had eaten something. So much so that it’s a favorite pastime for him to recall those memories and watch you cringe.

But, now in your adult life and being in a romantic relationship rather than a platonic one, Kuroo lets you do you. Of course, now you know when to do basic necessities like eat and sleep (Well, sometimes you needed a little help), but mostly because he wouldn’t dare change you. (Maybe because of how amusing it is to see you try to relax). However, there are times where he felt he needed to step in. Just to make sure you wouldn’t burn out or combust.

You were high maintenance but, Kuroo liked maintaining you. Your drive and passion for everything you do is one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place.

Which brings him to his current mission. To get you to sleep. Ever since you were brought on to a new project at your work, he could tell you weren’t sleeping as much as you should be. And while he was usually lenient, it was starting to worry him a little bit. Hence, why this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Kuroo doesn’t respond with words, but only light, feather-like kisses down your neck, just to remind that he really isn’t going to give in. You try to ignore him, but once he begins to suck a light hickey right below your ear, you can’t handle it and let out a heavy sigh of mainly annoyance and just a bit of pleasure. You can feel his smirk from behind you. That jackass.

“Tetsu, I have to focus.”

“You can focus tomorrow, (Name). It’ll still be there when you wake up.” Kuroo says in a teasing tone while moving his hands from your sides to your hands, pulling them away from the work you so desperately want to finish.

“I promised myself I’d finish this today.” You argue, turning around to plead with your eyes, but to no avail.

“When’s the deadline?” You pause, before looking away slightly.

“Next week.” Kuroo doesn’t even need to use words, but just a slight eyebrow raise for you to feel the need to defend yourself. “I-I’m using next week to read it over just to make sure I didn’t forget any-” Your argument is cut off by your yelp as Kuroo picks you up bridal style right from your chair. You flush.

“T-tetsurou!”

He gives you a Cheshire smile. “Bedtime.” Is the only thing he says as he carries you to your shared bedroom. You huff childishly as he sets you down onto the bed and pulls the covers down. He pulls off his shirt and lays down. You’re silently thankful that you were already changed for bed. Your mind can’t even take the imaginary scenarios of what your boyfriend would do. Your noises of disagreement are quieted when he pulls you into his chest. You grumble slightly.

“I’m not a child you know.” You hear Kuroo let out a small chuckle. You feel the vibrations coming from his chest and shiver slightly.

“Sleep, kitten.” He whispers before playfully nipping your ear, which earns him a light smack against his arm. Such a tease. You sigh, before relaxing into your boyfriends’ arms, attempting to sleep.

Maybe this could actually be good for you. Some sleep to feel refreshed in the morning and give you the final push to finish that report…

This was a terrible idea.

Not only could you not fall asleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your unfinished report in the other room. It was practically calling you, teasing you, infesting your mind with the fact that it’s sat there, undone. You shift slightly, leaning more against Kuroo as you feel his deep and even breathing. Lucky bastard practically passed out the second his head hit the pillow. While you laid there for about what felt like an eternity. You let out a low agonized whine, before looking at the clock on your bedroom wall. It was 1:35 am.

You definitely couldn’t stay like this. It was going to be the death of you if this continued.

You look from your door to Kuroo. Surely, he wouldn’t notice if you left for half an hour? You were almost finished with your report, so you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long, plus he slept like the dead…

You slowly and cautiously uncurled Kuroo’s arms from your waist, checking his face for the smallest shifts of discomfort, stopping whenever he twitched. After about five minutes, you managed to get him off you, and as quietly as possible, you stood up and tried to make your way to your door. You were about halfway there, when you hear a low grunt. You turn to see your boyfriend’s arms searching threw the empty space of the bed. He was trying to look for you.

If you weren’t focused on the task at hand, you would’ve recorded this for blackmail material. But, afraid of waking him, you silently grabbed your pillow and gave it to his searching hands. And like a child, Kuroo immediately clings onto it, pulling it into him and letting out a satisfied groan. You feel sensations of warmth course through you.

You swear you cannot describe the love you feel for this man. You feel yourself smile, going back and brushing your fingers down his neck, to which he let out a comforted noise.

Wait, stop, (Name) focus!

You snap yourself out of it, reminding yourself of the report sitting outside. With one last glance, you turn and make your way out the door. You feel peace and relief as you sit back down in your desk chair.

Okay time to get to work…

Okay, this might’ve taken a little longer than you’ve anticipated.

You finished writing the report, but when reading over you decided halfway through that you wanted to change a section, but then it intersected with another part and another…

Long story short, you’re rewriting it all over again.

You have no clue what time it is, only knowing the last time you checked it was 2: 45 am, and its felt like forever since you last checked.

But nevertheless, you were convinced that you were going to be done in the next fifteen minutes, so you just had to make sure that it was quiet enough that Kuroo wouldn’t wake. You made sure to check the door every five minutes and not a to make a single sound other the keyboard clacking. You were filled with determination. The next ten minutes flew by, with you getting immersed into your own little bubble.

Which is why you didn’t even hear Kuroo get up.

Granted, he had woken up randomly, but when he stirred and found himself clutching a pillow instead of your body, he knew immediately what you were up to.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He groaned, before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head at the clock on the wall. It was around 4: 15 am. Kuroo got up and walked out of the room, to find you sitting on your desk, face totally absorbed in your screen. He leans against the wall causally, watching you for a while.

“You know they say the early bird gets the worm,” His voice is rough from sleep, but is still filled with amusement as he watches you jump from his voice. You turn his way like a child getting caught for taking candy from their mothers’ purse.

“But this is a little much don’t you think?” He watches you slide out of your desk, closing your laptop while attempting to figure out a reasonable defense, but ends up watching you open and close your mouth like a gaping fish. He wishes he had his phone with him to catch your expression.

“I… I wasn’t tired. So I just figured I’d finish while it was still on my mind.” You finally say, voice filled with nervousness and a little bit of shame. Kuroo looks from you to your laptop.

“And did you finish?” You look away.

“…Not yet.” There’s silence between you two for little while. You watch Kuroo rub his face, clearly trying figure out what to do with you. You gulp.

“Tetsu, just go back to bed, I’ll be finished in ten minutes. As soon as I’m done, I’ll go to sleep I promise. I just couldn’t rest knowing it wasn’t done-” You’re cut off by Kuroo’s body pressing into yours, pushing you against the wall in a searing kiss, moving against your lips in a slow but bruising pace. You moan in surprise.

How-How did he even get over here so quickly?

Your mind goes blank as his hand travels under your pajama shirt (Which was his old t-shirt, but whatever), rubbing your lower back in ways that leave your skin tingling in its wake. You gasp from the sensation, giving Kuroo the space to slip his tongue in. At this point your body is on auto pilot, with even your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck at some point of the suddenly heavy make out session.

After what felt like centuries, Kuroo pulls back to let you breathe, before immediately going to attack your neck, not in the lighthearted way he did hours prior. He cycles from sucking on your flesh to lightly biting to kissing, all in places that he knows are sensitive. This all came on so fast that you can barely form coherent sentences.

“T-tetsu… What -ah, are you… Doing?” You pant, and he finally stops and smirks at you, which alone caused your heart to skip a beat.

“What else could I be doing? Taking your mind off work.” With that, he continues that assassination on your neck.

Honestly, the idea came to Kuroo on a whim. He knew that you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) stop working on that stupid report, so at that moment he could only think of one thing that could have a chance at taking your focus off it.

Sex.

Primitive yes, but hey, it worked at the best of times. Plus, it could also help with working off the extra energy you can’t seem to shake.

It’s a win-win in his eyes.

(It also may have to do with the fact that you two haven’t slept together in a week, due to said report, so he could be feeling a little pent up but that’s a different issue.)

After he was satisfied with his work on your neck, which was full of red and purple splotches that he knows you’ll complain about later, he returns to your lips, kissing you with all the strength he had. His hands travel from your back to your chest, thankful that you weren’t wearing a bra. Kuroo starts to knead your breasts, making sure to pinch and pull and your nipples every so often, leaving you to twitch and cry softly in his mouth. He can’t help but think about how the sounds would feel around his cock, and that imagery goes straight to his crotch.

Right no, this was about you. Another thought for another day.

His hands leave your chest, to go to the back of your thighs. He squeezes them to silently tell you to that he’s going to lift you. You help a little, jumping slightly and hooking your legs around his toned hips. Without leaving your lips he takes you to the nearest surface, which was your couch, and lays you down with the upmost care, before pouncing on you immediately. Putting one of his legs between yours.

After five minutes in this new position, Kuroo suddenly leaves your mouth and you quietly whine at the loss, but he doesn’t hear as he motions you to lift your arms off to take off your shirt. You comply, helping him remove the item of clothing, leaving you in just your panties. Kuroo appreciates the fact that you don’t wear pants to bed as he takes a moment to look at you. Your face flushed and red, lips swollen with a bruised neck that goes down to your collar bones. Your chest heaving from your heavy pants that accentuate the curve of your breasts. Kuroo has to real in his self control to stop himself from fucking you immediately. You feel yourself heat up from his dark eyes looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat.

“St-stop staring, pervert” You mutter, turning even more red from embarrassment. He smiles at your shyness. “Sorry kitten; but you can’t expect me not stare when you’re all laid out for me like this~ Just waiting to be devoured.”

You stutter at his words, refusing to look at him but trying to kick him to get your point across. He catches your leg with ease, and starts to kiss your calf, going up your leg, purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You whine again, this time with Kuroo hearing you and he chuckles lowly.

“Patience is a virtue, you know~” He teases, and before you could say anything, he latches his mouth to one of your nipples, leaving his hand to tease the other, making you speechless. Your only response was a shaky moan as he softly bites your nipple, causing your back to arch just a bit.

Kuroo is relentless, refusing to let your nipple go until its bright red and engorged, making even the lightest touch make you shiver. But he isn’t done in the slightest. Once pleased, he turns to the other one, giving it the exact same treatment. Once he’s done, you’re practically shaking with need.

“Tet-Tetsu… Pl-please.” You moan, as he teasingly pinches your extremely sensitive nipple. He looks at you, acting oblivious.

“Hm? Do you want something?” You glare as hard as you could at the prick, but with your half-lidded eyes and totally red face, it loses all intensity. Kuroo huffs out a laugh, sensual and deep, as he takes his finger and trails it down your abdomen and down to your inner thigh, making you let out gasps as your body twitches at the touch. He traces tiny circles down your inner thigh before grazing the lips of your pussy.

You’re absolutely dripping. His cock twitches. Maybe this week has been hard on you too…

“So needy~” He groans, again not giving you time to respond, as he shoves his finger inside your dripping hole, leaving you writhing. To be honest, he was becoming impatient as well, his cock was becoming so hard it was beginning to hurt, but he ignored it for your sake.

Kuroo starts off slow, pushing his finger in a slow pulse, loving the way your walls would twitch around his finger. After a while he brought his thumb to rub slow tight circles on your clit. You struggle to hold in any noise. Not like you weren’t struggling before.

“Tetsu~” You pant, becoming a literal puddle as he steadily winds the coil forming in your lower abdomen. Your hips start to move on their own accord, pushing against his finger to get it even deeper.

You want more. You need more.

“Still thinking about work?” Kuroo asks slyly, purposefully adding a second finger just to mess and cloud up your thoughts.

Bastard was making you look like a bitch in heat. But in the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not with all the pleasure muddling your basic communication skills. Kuroo obviously didn’t like that, so he decides to push up into a place that makes you see stars.

“Tetsurou!” You literally gasp, arching your back so far that you lift yourself off the couch. Kuroo groans just from your voice and expression alone. Just watching your eyes roll into the back of head was enough to put him in a frenzy, not even mentioning the way you said his name. He wanted you to scream it. Scream so loud the neighbors file complaints.

So of course, what else was he supposed to do but press and rub against that spot repeatedly.

Kuroo watches hungrily as your gasps and moans pitch higher and higher as his fingers set a brutal pace. Adding a third finger and his palm against your clit once more and you were goner, with him throwing you into climax rather than pushing you to it. He swears your cunt squeezed him so hard his fingers lost circulation for a moment, but it was worth the expression of pure bliss on your face.

It takes you a while to get your breathing under control, winding down from a climax harder than you’ve had in a while. You take a couple minutes resting your eyes, before you remember that Kuroo was still present, now rubbing his cock against your inner thigh.

“I hope you’re not tired yet, kitten~ We still have so much work to do.”

Boy, were you in for a rough night.

#haikyuu #fanfic #drabble #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #smut #haikyuu smut

122 notes · View notes

torturedblue · 10 months

Text

Part 2 of endless Disaster Twin parallels, the not so fun version

Part 1, the fun version

Considering the series shows Donnie coming off as autistic, he’s portrayed that way much more in fan art and fanfics, etc. We often see it in fan portrayals through an aversion to touch or his senses getting overwhelmed, etc. In the show I noticed Leo actually has a consistent aversion to anything with a gross texture too: like in the first episode when they’re all sliding down Draxum’s vines and he’s tripping over himself, the only one bothered by them “I hate this!”

He also starts flailing in a panic after a worm jumps on his face (and do I even need to bring up how the texture of worms ain’t all that enjoyable let alone on your face), recoils when that evil Hidden City massage guy pours hair serum all over his head, and he’s the most visibly repulsed when Raph gets trash all over them in the beginning of Battle Nexus: New York. So on multiple occasions he comes off as pretty texture or germ averse as well

Both also have insecurity issues about their role to the team: “If mystics can do everything I can but better then why would you guys even need me?” “I’m nothing without them!”

Ironically, in Many Unhappy Returns, Splinter thinks Leo doesn’t know what he’s doing and isn’t taking the mission seriously, saying he should’ve brought Purple. But in the same episode during fights with Shredder Donnie’s seen texting on his phone half of the time. Which is also very parallel to Leo making quips in the beginning instead of helping fight like Donnie and the others

In that same fashion, Donnie’s also goofiest when everyone’s acting serious in Insane in the Mama Train, while Leo’s the unserious one in the following episodes. Another role reversal from their norm

The show also portrays these two as feeling the most affected by Splinter’s history of emotionally distant parenting. Donnie constantly talks about his unmet need for parent-aged-adult approval/validation, and Leo shows his struggle in a more Leo-like way, constantly finding father figure connections in other people like Jupiter Jim and The Dunk. He also rejects/roasts Splinter a lot too, which seems more like a form of overcompensation; acting like he doesn’t totally need or crave Splinter’s attention. The exact opposite of Donnie’s methods. “No! I’m not going back to what’s-his-rat.”

“He’s my all-time favorite actor/role model/father figure!”

“That eccentric billionaire, who was kind of a surrogate father figure to me, has shown me a version of myself I don’t like.”

Leo acts like he doesn’t pine for his affection. I’m sure he sees the way Donnie openly, desperately goes after it when it’s offered and then gets crushed even harder with disappointment (ahem Turtle-dega Nights). No way Leo’s opening himself up to that. I mean come on how sad is the moment when Splinter says they should do something together and Mikey is so eager to jump on the opportunity before it gets taken away, only for Donnie to have to pull him aside and remind him it’s usually some kind of trick or he’s likely possessed? Just for Mikey to immediately respond, “You’re right, I always fall for this!” Ouch. Honestly considering Mikey’s empathy and emotional maturity in mind, the reason both he and Raph seem to handle Splinter’s lack of attention so well is probably also because in addition Raph became a second parent himself, and taking on that role like Splinter, he knows from his own experience that even though their dad doesn’t show it in the ways they wish he would, of course he loves them and what he does do to take care of them as a parent proves that

I think the parallels and direct contrasts between how Leo and Donnie show their dissatisfaction in their relationship with Splinter is probably the most developed and interesting one to me 💔

I mean Leo’s the only one who would actually say something like this to Splinter and you can’t tell me there’s not some deep-seated resentment in the way he looks and the way he says it…

So yeah. There’s the sad edition of Disaster Twins parallels. Let’s all cry together 😃

#disaster twins #rottmnt disaster twins #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #leo and donnie #rottmnt character analysis #these poor boys

321 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

“Psst. Shiro. Shiro. You awake? Shiro?”

If there is anyone, out there, who has just had their car stolen by a punk kid who reminds them to much of themselves, Shiro would like them to know:

Do not adopt the punk kid. The punk kid will grow into a punk young adult who does not know boundaries and loves to bother you in the dead of the fucking night, because heaven forbid he solve his own problems.

“Keith. I am going to kill you.”

“I have a question,” Keith insists, entirely unafraid of Shiro’s very real and very genuine threat.

Shiro groans loudly, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his head. Maybe if he holds it steadily it will suffocate him to death. “Fuck off. Please.”

Ignoring him even further, Keith climbs over Shiro’s body, kneeing him in the spleen, like a cat perhaps, and settling down next to him. “I have a question,” he says again.

He has his stubborn voice on, because of fucking course he does. Shiro is not going to be successful in ignoring him.

He groans again, much louder this time, and drags himself out from under the blankets. He glares at his brother as nastily as he can, seriously considering beating him to death with his pillow. Keith must read the look in his eyes, because he scooches back slightly.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re a punk fucking kid?“

“More times than I can count physically,” Keith says pleasantly. “You may have called me that more than my name, actually. I have a lot of intense psychological trauma about it.”

Shiro laughs despite himself, breaking the unspoken game between them. The smile finally breaks free on Keith’s face, wide and boyish and frustrating.

Shiro has to give him a noogie. Like, contractually.

“Aw, Shiro, fuck off! You’re gonna mess up my hair!”

“Can’t mess up the already messy,” Shiro taunts, making sure to cause at least three tangles. Keith makes a freaky growling noise, like one of those little rat dogs that feels it has been wronged, and the next thing Shiro knows he’s being bitten.

“Jesus — ow, Keith! Unclamp! Bad feral desert child! I’m going to get the fucking spray bottle!” Shiro finally manages to wrestle his arm back, kicking Keith right off the bed and holding a pillow in front of him for protection. “Gollum ass bitch!”

“My precious,” Keith hisses in response, muffled from his place on the floor.

Both of them are silent for a moment, desperately trying to muffle their panting so the other doesn’t know how out of breath the wrestling made them.

God, Shiro wouldn’t give up his punk fucking kid for the world.

“Why did you wake me up, you brat?”

“The team is panicking and I’m not allowed to tell you about it,” Keith explains easily.

Shiro leans over the side of the bed, quirking an amused eyebrow. “So why are you telling me about it?”

Keith shrugs. “Because they’re being stupid! Don’t bother Shiro, Lance says. It’s supposed to be a surprise, Lance says.” Keith scoffs. “I don’t get it. We’re struggling, we need help. Who the fuck else would we ask?”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it again. His eyes well up.

“Oh, Shiro, don’t start,” Keith groans, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Dude, come on, it wasn’t that big of a deal —”

“I’m your backup plan,” Shiro wails, trying and failing to contain himself. He buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with the force of his cries.

“Aw, you big loser.” Keith crawls back up on the bed, throwing an arm around Shiro’s back and patting gently. He lets Shiro cry himself out for a few minutes, hand rubbing constant circles on Shiro’s back, and then he freezes.

Mischief is suddenly in the air.

“After all,” Keith says, and Shiro can hear the glee in his voice. “you’re six whole years old, today. Practically a grown-up!” His voice gets high-pitched, condescending. “Are we having some big boy feelings there, sport? Are we —”

“I am going to kill you now,” Shiro announces pleasantly, and it’s the only warning Keith gets before he’s tackled to the ground.

———

“I can’t believe you actually tried to kill me,” Keith pouts. He pokes at a bruise on his arm and then looks at Shiro, expression as pitiful as he can make it. “You’re abusive. A bully.”

“Mhm. Shut up.” Keith grumbles when Shiro throws his arm over his shoulders, guiding them down the hallways, but allows it. “You said you had a question, when you woke me up in the dead of the night like a particularly annoying mosquito.”

Keith brightens considerably. “Oh, yeah! Happy birthday. The team is trying to plan you a super secret birthday party, but you usually plan the team birthday parties, so it’s fallen into chaos. Lance keeps trying to climb the cabinets in the kitchen to hang things from the ceiling. When I left Hunk was threatening to shove him in the oven.”

Shiro can’t help his smile, big and wide and goofy. “Is Pidge panicking and reorganizing the kitchen based on a convoluted colour-coding system?”

“Yep.”

“Allura’s smuggling gigantic bottles of glitter into the room and trying to put it everywhere for ‘festive joy and sparkles’?”

“Mhm.”

“Coran is trying to stop her but keeps getting distracted and pulled onto the side of the glitter?”

“Absolutely. She bribed him with orange glitter and he dropped off the rational side immediately.”

“Excellent. Hopefully she’s managed to cover things in pink.”

“Oh, she brought in extra just for you.”

Shiro sniffles again. His arm tightens around his dorky brother, who rolls his eyes at the sound but doesn’t tease him again. “And Hunk? How many people have been smacked with the Spoon of Doom for trying to eat the cake?”

“…None.”

Keith’s shiftiness startles the tears right out of him, and he laughs loudly. “How many times have you been smacked, you sugar fiend?”

“He made you triple chocolate cake!” Keith defends. “I just wanted to quality check!”

“You should tell Hunk you want to ‘quality check’ his stuff. I’d really enjoy seeing him throw you bodily down the hallway.”

“Say, has anyone given you your birthday beats yet? You’re six years old, and there are six of us, so that means you get to get thirty-six —”

“Keith! Shiro!” They’re not even fully in view of the doorway when Lance calls out to them — those freaky bat ears of his, goddamn — and jumps off the counter, just barely managing to not trip and brain himself to death on the floor. He runs over to them, hugging them tightly and then dragging them towards the rest of the team.

“Interesting how you were the first one he called out to,” Shiro mutters, wiggling his eyebrows.

Keith scowls. His ears are red. “Shut up.”

“First one he hugged, too.”

“Choke.”

“Interesting, because it’s my birthday.”

“It’s going to be your last birthday if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

“Is he sparkling? He looks like he’s sparkling. Only when he looks at you, though.”

“Shiro, if you don’t fucking —”

“Everyone! The birthday boy is here!” Lance announces, saving Shiro’s life.

The team greets him enthusiastically, beams and hugs and kisses and, in Allura’s case, a baptism of pink glitter.

“Thank you,” Shiro tells her solemnly. “Both for the glitter shower and for not letting anyone tell you not to. Stick it to the man.”

Allura laughs brightly. “Of course not! The room needs to shine as brightly as you, Shiro darling!”

She sits Shiro down at his seat, everyone taking their seats around him. Hunk brings over the beautiful cake he made, deep and dark and chocolate and no doubt beyond delicious.

There are six and three quarter candles in it.

Shiro glances at his team flatly. “Really?”

“It’s the first of thirteen age related jokes,” Pidge says, grinning. “We each came up with one, and then Keith came up with seven more.”

“Shocking,” Shiro says drily. He shakes his head, unable to fight his smile. “All of you are ungrateful brat children. Even you, Coran.”

“I have forgotten more about being alive than you will ever know, child.”

“Is it because I’m only six?”

Coran claps his hands delightedly. “Yes! That is my joke! Did you like it?”

“I’m going to blow on my candles and wish you were all less annoying,” Shiro says.

He blows out his candles to the backdrop of his heckling team, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them closed for a moment, trying to think of something to wish for. He peeks one eye open, taking in his dorky team, wrestling and teasing each other. Pidge is looking dangerously close to grabbing a handful of cake with her bare hands and shoving it in Lance’s hair, because he’s poking her relentlessly over something ridiculous. Hunk is trying to pull him away, poorly concealing his own laughter. Allura and Coran are throwing handfuls of glitter in the air. Keith — that punk kid, Shiro’s best friend and better — has his chin in his hands, staring at Lance and pretending he isn’t.

Shiro smiles, soft and happy and satisfied.

He lets his wish evaporate into the atmosphere.

There’s nothing he wants that he doesn’t already have.

#happy birthday shiro!!#my love #vld #voltron #shiro #takashi shirogane #keith #keith kogane #broganes #pining keith #klance #team as family #big brother shiro #dorky shiro #fluff and humour #my writing #fic #longpost

549 notes · View notes

shinsorokiri · 2 years

Text

y’know i know a lot of people talk about how they love shane and seb because they’re the damaged men in the game, and like same 100%, but i also see a lot of people kinda dismiss sam as a golden retriever, positive, happy character. but if you really think about it, sam fits into the same category as seb and shane too. like:

1. his mother expresses multiple times to the farmer that although she loves her children, she very much longs to have a life where she doesn’t have to constantly worry about kids. in a way a part of her deep down wishes that sam and vincent didn’t really exist and it tears her apart and vincent isn’t necessarily old enough to grasp the concept, but sam is and you know he notices it. this is the woman who raised him and (i at least headcanon him) as someone who is very observant. he definitely notices these behaviors coming from her. and idk about you, but having an inkling that your mother is unhappy with her life in any capacity would really screw me up personally.

2. his father went to WAR. like fully went to war and i’m thinking he was in the army for 2 and a half years at least because he has a corporal badge (even though it’s upside down) but that means that he was away for bootcamp, then deployed, and if sam is around what? like 19? 20? that means that he became the “man of the household” at 17 or 18. Because I personally believe Kent was away for three to three and a half years. Bootcamp for about 10 weeks, straight to a base for more training, and it seems as though the active war made it so he got deployed into action fairly quickly. So, not only did Sam have an absence where his father should have been during the years he became a young adult, but he has to adjust to his father coming back and struggling with PTSD and quite honestly being shellshocked. (i also believe kent was honorably discharged, meaning something bad happened to him in the war. perhaps it was the same event where he lost many of his friends, but i fully believe the war is still ongoing even when kent returns to the valley considering the traveling merchant is still smuggling things into the town.) all the memories he had of kent are just memories now because his father will never be the same as he was before. And sam KNOWS that! even vince notices it!

3. he’s literally a rebellious skater kid, one of his heart events is him getting in trouble WITH THE MAYOR because he’s skating where he’s not supposed to, AND he purposely tries to sabotage the soup for the potluck and leads in community service hours. he’s a teenage dirtbag baby! a misunderstood edgy kid who acts out because he doesn't know how to express his feelings! and on top of that, with his adhd he’s even more misunderstood and people don’t take him seriously at all. he gets scolded for things that he seemingly just can’t help all the time and that just hurts him and makes him act out even more.

4. sam is also a damaged individual - he’s just better at masking it. seb embraces the darkness and accepts that he is an outcast and doesn’t try to hide the fact he is. shane struggles with addiction and depression publicly and it’s not negative necessarily, but he can’t hide it from anyone. sam has a warped idea that he cannot show his ailments, physical or mental because he needs to be strong for his little brother and give an example of what he believes a man should be (and because of the patriarchal society he lives in he doesn’t know that he can be vulnerable because no one told him because the man who would have been able to explain that to him during the years he really needed to hear it wasn’t there). i fear he suffers a bit from toxic positivity and desperately tries to rely on hobbies to distract him from his reality.

long story short, sam is not just a silly guy, he has depth. i mean come on, he's best friends with sebastian for a reason! they’re similar in ways! he just doesn’t know how to talk about or express it. all this to say, sam is an interesting and deep character that shouldn’t be written off immediately by people.

sam supremacy! lmao

#stardew valley #stardew #stardew valley sam #stardew sam #stardew headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #woke up and thought i'd advocate for samson today #cause i love that guy #sdv sam #sdv

950 notes · View notes

greenhappyseed · 8 months

Text

I don’t think it’s right to say young Toshi decided to be of service to others, and bury himself beneath “All Might,” simply because he couldn’t find another role in society for his quirkless self. He recognized very early on that “everyone’s got a tough time” and everyone is busy looking out for themselves, which meant the status quo was unlikely to change. Toshi was the weirdo who couldn’t accept that.

From his very beginning, Toshi is built different. He’s tall and blonde and orphaned and quirkless and questions everything about the way the world works. Although he’s polite, nothing about Toshi fits in with Japanese society. He’s just not like the other boys, yet in his Toshi way, he turns that into an advantage. He won’t ever find joy being like others or “fitting in” because he was made to stand out. When Toshi tells Nana, “A quirkless guy like me has no role otherwise,” he’s not rejecting the society that rejected him, and he’s not desperate to fit in. He’s saying he is the perfect person to change the world because he’s not leashed to any societal expectations.

Toshi doesn’t have a “three-meter radius” to protect like other people with homes or families. He’s not destined to do something like take over his father’s business. He’s not too busy looking out for himself. Unlike everyone else, he has the time and youthful exuberance to care about others. He knows nobody is going to draft a quirkless kid into a battle. Yet he was so incensed by the world around him that he “refused to sit on the sidelines” anyway. He’s calling up himself.

Toshinori’s lack of limits startles Nana at first. Not only does he follow her like a lost puppy, his second sentence to her is, “Let me help/assist you.” Let HIM (the quirkless child) help HER (the adult pro hero)?!?!? (Who is this kid???) When she initially turns him away, he says he’s not chasing her for help avenging his family. He really wants to break the cycle of loss and grief for others. Then Nana challenges Toshi’s true motivations, asking, “so what would you do to change the world?” and to her surprise he sets out a coherent plan for creating a Symbol of Peace. (What child walks around with an audacious yet plausible vision for changing the entire freaking world???) Nana challenges Toshi one last time, sarcastically asking if he’d put on a big show of force or grand display of power, knowing he’s quirkless. And the madlad STILL answers yes, continuing to insist he’s the perfect candidate to put on such a show.

All Might always emphasized the joy of volunteer work and helping others without being asked, even when others didn’t quite catch his main message. He specifically researched and chose a physical task with a public benefit and no public recognition for Izuku’s 10 months of training. He could have bought a secret gym space! But no, he had to instill the value of benefitting the public.

Even as All Might talks about his past, his powerlessness, and his regrets, he never wavers from his original idea. He believes in the idea of a symbol. He believes that society needs a guiding light. The part he knows he got wrong was brushing off the kindness of others. Just because he is different; just because he started on this path alone; just because his isolation made him the right person to start on that path; doesn’t mean he had to stay that way.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #all might #Toshinori yagi #bnha 398 #mha 398 #nana Shimura #mha meta #bnha meta

180 notes · View notes

youarejustintime · 9 months

Text

Before playing Before the Storm, I honestly didn’t think I would have so many feelings about Rachel Amber but oh boy, here we are.

I just want to start off by saying that I am a Rachel defender through and through. I will die on this hill. Call me Chloe Price because I am president of the Rachel Amber fan club.

The belief that Rachel had no care or compassion for Chloe and was only using her is insane to me. We are talking about a 15 year old girl who feels like she has to be everything for everyone all the time while still maintaining perfect grades and a perfect reputation. She has a broken family with a father who is a master manipulator so of COURSE Rachel knows how to manipulate, it’s all she’s ever learned and she thinks that’s how you have to move through life. Chloe is the first person she’s ever met that she could maybe be real with and she doesn’t know how to handle that emotionally. She does love Chloe, she just doesn’t know how to show it very well because it’s never been demonstrated to her.

When talking about Rachel, I think we need to remember that she is a victim, right up until she was buried, and even during her burial, she was victimized. Even her body could not get the peace it deserved.

Firstly, she was 100% a victim of her family. The mother who was sick and couldn’t recover for her until it was too late, the mother who lived a lie Rachel’s entire life and didn’t have the heart to say anything, the father who demonized a hurt woman and refused to get her help, who kept a part of his daughter away from herself, and who would rather hire a hitman to kill her real mother than actually allow them to meet. Say what you want about him doing what he believed was best, he was still wrong.

She was a victim of Frank. I have a lot of mixed feelings regarding Frank in general, however I do believe that this is another case of Rachel being victimized. I’ve seen a lot of “Why would she cheat on Chloe with Frank?” online and it’s baffling. Are we forgetting that Frank is a fully grown adult who is 13 years her senior? Regardless if they started dating after she turned 18 (which we do not know for sure is the case), he still met AND liked her when she was 15 years old (considering in BtS, if you tell Frank over the phone that you’re helping a friend, he asks if it was your friend from the other night at the mill, and agrees to help only because of her). In the diner during the storm, he does acknowledge that she was too young for him, but that he did genuinely care about her, which I don’t doubt, but the relationship is inappropriate regardless. The relationship also likely started because she was a user and running drugs for him as a means to make money to leave town with Chloe, who he believed was “trying to take her away from him,” a sentiment that is common within grooming.

She was a victim of Jefferson, having been coerced into whatever their relationship was, her feelings for him being self-described as “obsessed”. She never truly loved him, only being manipulated into it because she was young and desperately needed a father figure-esque man to make her feel worth something. All he really was was an adult who wanted to do disgusting things to a child.

And lastly, she was a victim of Nathan, who she gave years of friendship to, but he was so broken and so blinded by pleasing his so-called mentor that he allowed her to die and left her in a junkyard like she was garbage.

Rachel was a just baby who was crying for help ever since she moved to Arcadia Bay, and the only one who could hear her was Chloe. Unfortunately, despite doing everything she could, Chloe was also a child who was dealing with her own trauma. She couldn’t always be at Rachel’s side to protect her, and Rachel was scared to tell her the truth in fear of losing her. No one was able to step in to give Rachel what she needed, and she continued to escalate, lash out, and put herself in more and more danger until it led to her death.

#missed posting this on her birthday but im doin it now!!!#rachel amber #life is strange #life is strange before the storm #before the storm #lis #lis bts #amberprice

261 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 months

Note

If you don’t mind Miss Kit, here’s a little morning AU Pitch:

In a galaxy where the Padawans aren’t allowed to become a knight without the getting the explicit OK from their Master, Obi-Wan has reached the ripe age of 25, becoming the oldest Padawan in the Order after getting denied YET again by Qui-Gon to become a Knight. (Reasons can be he either really doesn’t think Obi-Wans ready or he’s still scarred about his last failed apprentice (Xanatos)) On the cusp of the Clone Wars, his Master dies, leaving him a Masterless AND still a Padawan. The Council has thought he was ready since he was 23(or whatever), but could do nothing since Qui-Gon said no.

However, there is a freshly knighted Anakin Skywalker walking around who is in desperate need of a friend/guidance/partner and whose Master also conveniently just died. With the War just about to kick off, and frankly having little to no options when it comes to people who want an adult Padawan, they decide that the two are perfect for another. r(also they have to actually TRY and see why Qui-Gon wouldn’t let him become knighted, and actually let someone bond to investigate)

Not only will they be able to help each other past their grief while also (hopefully) becoming friends, but it’s not like Skywalker will want a 25 yr old Padawan following him around like a puppy for long. He’ll probably graduate Obi-Wan before the end of the day. Three birds with one stone; they’ll get another knight, Skywalker will get a friend, and Obi-Wan can finally stop having nightmares of still being a Padawan at 40. It’s perfect.

The only problem is it’s Anakin. And he’s had a crush on Obi-Wan since he was 9yrs old. With the Clone Wars about to start, why would he ever want Obi-Wan anywhere but by his side? And besides, now Obi-Wan will HAVE to notice him now. Will have to do what he says, listen to his commands, always look at him first for permission, call him MASTER…yeah, there’s no way he’s letting THAT go anytime soon.

That’s it! Anyways, thought it was cool idea that I saw in twt. Could be fluffy, could be dead dove or just dark or anything really. Like how funny would it be that Obi-Wan here, who is not only older, but calmer, and more level headed, leads a negotiation only to turn around and say ‘what do you think Master?’ The power trip Anakin would get is god tier lol

It’s been eating a t my brain a while now, and I wanted to see what other people thought of it lol

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Oh this is an interesting take! A master who is younger and by a few years and already has that crush on padawan obi-wan—who is no doubt grieving his dead master and also nursing a hurt and anger that he hasn’t been knighted yet

love the idea of the Council being like yeah knight Skywalker has been doing a lot of unhinged things he probably won’t want an older padawan dragging him down so he’s gonna knight him soon and we can take care of this oversight by the books

and anakin is like this is my padawan and childhood crush and love of my life and his name is obi-wan and I am never gonna let him go thank you for legally binding us together 💛

#asks #obikin #I don’t go on Twitter so I haven’t seen anything like this before but it’s cool #anyone is always welcome to send AUs to me of course #ask answering time as always will vary

64 notes · View notes

hexidous · 10 months

Text

Pretty As You Feel

Part II to Silk and Sweat. I highly recommend reading part I for context.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: You find yourself back at the club Joel manages and try your best to seem unafflicted. As hard as you try, you may end up playing it a little too cool.

Warnings: Depictions of stripping, general adult content, oral sex, fingering, spitting, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, the holy trifecta, praise Joelsus

Word count: 4.4k

Slowly sinking down into the epsom salt bath you drew, you feel your tense muscles begin to relax in the hot water.

You imagine Joel behind you, enveloped in his strong embrace. His touch lingered on your skin, your nerves still whirring from his strong hands.

Enough, you think.

You had a rough night and he helped you get through it. Nothing more.

Unfortunately, you were used to men feeling entitled to your body because you chose to put it on display. They pay for a show and get angry when they want more.

When you were young and new to the life, you developed your own mantra to cope with the way you were treated.

What happens to Starla doesn’t happen to you.

You repeat it over and over, distancing yourself from the woman you pretend to be.

It works when it’s a random, rowdy customer causing you to question whether or not the money is worth the shit you put up with. It doesn’t work with Joel.

The way his face contorted into disgust and rage as he pulled that pathetic man off you flashes behind your eyes as you try to relax. How he beat a man bloody for you with ease, seeming to be holding back still.

You think of his face donning a similarly intense look, possibly indecipherable out of context, as he slammed his thick fingers into your desperate cunt.

Joel was a man no little mantra could force out of your head.

You mindlessly worked on whatever jobs came in, the days coming and going in a dull blur. A week went by and you had only petty design jobs coming in, alongside the occasional copywriting gig you’d pick up eagerly.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

You trudged through five thousand words about cooling units and designed a logo for a shitty tech start up before calling it a day. Well, your day called itself because you didn’t have any more work to do.

“You got any rent money this month?” You ask the bemused cat laying on your desk, stopping mid lick of her belly to stare at you. “No? Shocking.”

You scratch behind her little ear before getting up from your chair. “I guess only one pussy is bringing home some money tonight.”

You start to put a bag together, rifling through folded dresses.

Which one would Joel like the most? You find yourself asking.

He strikes you as a man who likes a tasteful woman, not one eagerly putting everything on display. Obviously you didn’t have any modest dresses to wear, but you opted to toss in a few of the less skimpy ones.

Trying to breathe through your nerves, you watch as the bright red sign comes into your view. You park off to the side and grab your bag, clutching the strap tightly.

Play it cool, you warn yourself.

You greet the host at the front desk as you walk past her. You arrive a little later this time, the club already bustling with movement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got superstar Starla in the house tonight,” Tommy teases in his sultry club DJ affectation.

Joel’s head snaps up from the clipboard he’s holding. You smile and shake your head at him with a roll of your eyes, conveying your disbelief over Tommy’s silliness.

“Glad you decided to come back,” he tells you as you pass by his preferred spot on the floor, tucked away between the bottle service section and private dance room.

“My bank account didn’t give me much of a choice,” you half joke with a shrug before heading to the dressing room.

You don’t feel the need to find an isolated section this time. You take a seat at one of the many chairs lined up facing the stretch of illuminated mirrors. A couple other girls are seated along the row and a few flitter behind you, going to their lockers or on and off stage.

You slip your clothes off, folding them neatly and setting them on the counter.

The dress you decided on for the evening was short and black with long sleeves. The top came down to just low enough to tease at your cleavage. The dress was tighter on you than it used to be, but it hugged your curves nicely. There wasn’t room for a bra beneath it, but the back of it looked much better without one. It was a thick lace pattern, tightly woven flowers and loops dancing down your back, coming to a V-shape at the lowest point of your back. You strapped on some matching black shoes, grabbed your wristlet, and stashed everything else away in your locker.

You make your way through the narrow dressing room and walk up a few stairs leading to the hallway behind the stage, ending with the DJ booth.

“Ready for my spotlight,” you tell Tommy, poking your head into his booth.

“Here’s my superstar!” He bellows happily. “The night can finally begin.”

“Do I have to pay you up front to not torment me?” You joke.

“That was just a little first day hazin’,” he assures with a sly grin.

You turn from his booth and walk back down the dimly lit hallway, toward the pulsing red light of the club.

You exit just beside the stage, taking a good look at the dancer occupying it. She’s naturally brunette with blonde bangs and chunky highlights. Her face dons multiple piercings, one at the center of her bottom lip, a stud on her high cheekbone, settling like a sparkly little tear, and many in her ears. Her tattoos were all black and ornate, slithering across her body, perfect with her fluid, sensual movements.

You take your eyes away and head to the bar, turning slightly to continue to watch the dancer on stage.

Tommy’s voice dwarfs the song playing as it reaches an end. “Give it up for the fine, the feral, the absolutely fierce Fiona!” He bellows enthusiastically. “Now don’t be too scared gentlemen, she don’t bite… much.”

You’re ready for your first drink so you wave to the first man you see walk through the club like an old friend.

“I feel like it would be hard to forget a face so beautiful,” he says, putting a hand on the back of your chair. “But I’m terribly sorry to say I don’t remember you.”

“Oh you don’t know me,” you admit, pretending to look bashful. “But I’m new here and wanted someone to talk to.”

“Well I am honored you chose me,” he says politely before holding out his hand. “David.”

“Starla,” you tell him, shaking his hand softly.

“Oh come on, honey, I know your name ain’t Starla.”

“Look where you are, David,” you poke. “What did you expect? For me to say, ‘Hi, I’m Annie Mae, just a simple girl lookin’ for a husband.”

“Shit, you got me there,” he says after a beat, holding his hands up and feigning surrender. “So, you want a drink, Annie Mae?”

“Why, I’d love one.”

You don’t rush things with David, you know you’re not far off in rotation and it would be nice to have someone stage side for you.

Sure enough, you hear Tommy call you up for the next song as he transitions the music.

“Come see me up there?” You ask as you finish your drink and grab your small sequined clutch.

“Of course, darlin’,” he promises with a smile.

You take long strides to the DJ booth,

“Hey,” you say, getting Tommy’s attention. He turns to you but you cut him off before he can deliver whatever cheesy line he’s churning. “I know it’s not typical strip club music, but can you play Jefferson Airplane’s Somebody to Love?”

“Oh, my brother will love you for that,” he tells you. You cock your head, wondering if his brother was in the crowd, maybe David, but don’t think much of it as he starts to call you up.

“Alright gentlemen, get ready for the sensational, sensual, downright sinful… Starla!”

You take your cue and fling the curtain back dramatically as soon as the song begins.

You know the song well, adjusting your movements from soft and flowing to harsh and abrupt as the melody changes.

You climb the pole deftly before snaking around it and then finally dropping down down into a split on the floor.

Your eyes, I say, your eyes may look like his

You swing your leg around to face the small crowd and bend your knee slightly. You’ve got one hand gripping the pole beside you for leverage as you arch your back and lift your ass, rolling your pelvis slowly. David’s eyes are locked on you. Your gaze moves to the left, unable to help yourself.

Joel’s eyes are locked on you too.

You don’t break your stare until you see David making his way toward you. He sits beside he stage and you crawl toward him, flipping your hair dramatically before rising to your knees, playfully toying with your breasts. You shimmy your hips and bounce up and down like you’re riding an invisible ecock. He slips a twenty in the waistband of your thong as you hold it out. You snap it back and give him a wink.

You casually turn your head toward Joel and find him still staring. Your heart rate picks up, despite already thumping hard from your dancing. He had never watched you so brazenly.

You finish your song and thank David. You try to focus on steady breathing, fluid movements, and not looking back at Joel.

A few more men come up to tip you, though not quite as generously, until finally your set ends.

“I told you he’d like it,” Tommy jeers from his booth. You walk toward him, quickly throwing your dress back on and adjusting your suffocating tits.

“Who?” You finally get to ask. “David?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Joel. Didn’t know he was my brother?”

“Huh. I guess not,” you say in a flat voice, trying not to give hint to any emotion.

“Well you did the song justice. He doesn’t usually watch the girls on stage.”

You try not to blush or seem like you care at all, giving a quick, “Hmm.”

“Probably just zoning out, thinking about getting high in the basement while our parents were at work. I’d hear that shit blasting all the time,” he says with a laugh.

Your stomach drops. Maybe he hasn’t been staring at all, just lost in thought. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“I used to barge in, asking him why his room smelled so bad," Tommy laughs. "He'd get so mad, moodier than any teen girl."

You smile at the thought of Joel as an angsty teen. "Well I better get back. Think I got something real special with Dave out there."

"Get 'em, superstar," he calls out as you walk away.

You get a few dances out of David. He tries to get your number or buy you another drink, but you decline.

When you emerge from the private dance room, you're not really sure where to land next. It's slim pickings with most of the men already occupied.

You hear your stage name called by one of the girls sitting at a table of dancers. You walk over and sit down at an empty seat.

“It is Starla, right?” A pretty brunette asks. You nod in response. “I’m Tiffany.”

You exchange pleasantries with the women. You’d known almost all of their names already, it was easy when you heard Tommy announcing them every 10 minutes. But it was nice getting to know them, feeling like less of an outsider.

You chatted casually with the group, tipping them off to the still seated man you had just danced with.

“He just wants to think he has a chance in hell,” you scoff. “Easy money.”

One of the girls, a petite woman named Amber, stands up from her seat and makes her way over to him.

“God damn Joel looks sexy tonight,” Tiffany huffs from across the table, her eyes settling just over your shoulder. “He doesn’t even have to fuck me. Just spit on me. Anything.”

Tiffany notices your silence among the other girls agreement and calls you out.

“You seriously don’t think so?” She asks incredulously.

“I mean, he’s alright,” you lie.

“Right, you’re into Tommy,” she prods teasingly.

“No I’m not,” you scoff.

“He’s fun, but he’s easy,” Tiffany laments. “Joel is a challenge and fuck if I don’t love a good challenge.”

You try to quell the jealousy that begins to brew in your gut.

“Tommy will fuck anyone and Fiona will fight anyone,” another girl says with a laugh.

“They’re fucking but not exclusive,” Tiffany explains. “Doesn’t stop Fiona from losing her shit though.”

“Remember when Valerie blew him in the DJ booth? Bitch went full Monday Night RAW,” a tan, dark haired woman called Raven recounts, evoking laughter from the small group.

“You might want to keep it on the low, Starla,” Tiffany warns. “Fiona’s already caught whiff of you two.”

“Hand to god, nothin’ to smell,” you swear. You weren’t eager for Fiona to hate you but you were comfortable knowing no one had any idea of your infatuation for Joel.

“He’s got a nice dick,” Raven says with a shrug, a couple girls nodding in agreement.

“Before Mary Jane left she told me that Tommy is big but Joel is huge,” Tiffany admits. “Lucky bitch.”

Your cheeks run hot again as you picture Joel’s intimidatingly large bulge inches from your face. You also can’t help but angrily think who the fuck is Mary Jane?

“Well this has been informative, thank you ladies,” you tell the group as you rise from your seat. “But I better go find someone who’ll help my poor landlord pay off his Ferrari.”

The night is winding down to a late end. You hear Tommy play Closing Time as he tells the customers they don’t have to go home but they can’t stay here. It seems very on brand.

“Starla,” you hear Joel’s deep voice call to you. Your pulse quickens and skin becomes tingly from the mere sound of your stage name on his tongue. He continues once you step closer, “I must have tossed your paperwork by accident. Can you hang back for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure,” you tell him, unsure why it couldn’t wait another day. Not that you mind.

You’re slow to get everything together, taking your time organizing your bills and bag. It may just be missing paperwork, but you wanted the club to be empty on the off chance something more may happen. You give it another minute after the last girl leaves the dressing room before making your way to Joel’s office.

You knock lightly on the open door to announce your presence. He turns around and stares at you with an intense look written across his handsome face.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He asks, his demeanor taking a 180 since he last spoke to you.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you reply, stunned. “I really do.”

“Tommy seems to think you wanna suck his,” his gravely voice speaks with a snarl. “That true, too? You just another slut tryna fuck every man who won’t pay you for it?”

“Nope,” you reply cooly, forcing your tone to stay even as your heart tries to escape your chest. “Just a slut who can’t stop thinking of you every time she makes herself cum.”

“Christ,” he mutters, running a palm over his growing cock. Your rapid heartbeat moves lower.

“May I?” You ask innocently, taking a tentative step forward.

“No,” he barks. You take a startled step backward.

He stands up and closes the distance between you two, towering over you now that your seven inch heels are replaced by a pair of comfy slip ons. His broad chest heaves as he stares down at you, the look in his eyes almost scaring you.

Joel brushes past you, leaving you alone in his office.

“Anyone here?” He bellows out to the empty club.

He’s met with silence so you follow him out.

“Wait here,” he tells you as he walks toward the club entrance. You hear the heavy lock fall into place.

Your head is swimming with anticipaion as he stalks back to you. Hell, your panties are too.

“Move,” he commands, pointing to the bottle service area. You do as he says, walking up the few stairs that lead to the semi private area.

The open facing entrance had the trademark red silk curtains strung open. Joel pulls them closed, leaving only the light filtering through the top of the curtains and three quarter wall to illuminate the small area.

“Alright,” he says, facing you. He rubs his hand over the thick cock straining against his pants. “Y’say you want it so damn bad, better make me believe it.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, biting your lip with anticipation as you take him in.

“Excuse me?” He says with a cocked brow, bringing his hands to his hips.

“I will,” you assure in a breathy voice. His brow stays cocked. “Sir,” you add meekly.

“Atta girl,” he says, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine.

You slowly sink to your knees before him, looking up to meet his dark gaze.

Your hands shake as you bring them up to undo his belt. You don’t think you’ve been this nervous in front of a man since you were a teenager.

You reach into his soft, elastic boxer briefs and grasp his heavy cock, barely able to fit your hand all the way around it.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. His cock is literally mouthwatering. You press your tongue flat against his thick head, precum already beading at the top. You let your pooling saliva run down his shaft before tracing your tongue over the vein that runs down the length of it. You pump his dick slowly with one hand and while sliding his underwear down further, freeing his balls. You duck your head low and bring them into your mouth, gently licking at them.

You hear Joel groan quietly from above you. You look up to find him peering down at you. “Such a good girl,” he says breathlessly.

His praise sends warmth through your entire body. You return your mouth to his cock but gently cup his sensitive scrotum, squeezing lightly. Your jaw feels tight trying to fit his entirety into your mouth without accidentally scraping your teeth against him.

You remember Tiffany’s words from earlier and think how you love a good challenge too. Especially ones that paid off.

You feel the head of Joel’s cock reach the back of your throat and you gag a little before forcing a deep breath in through your nose. You do your best to relax as he starts to thrust his hips up into you, meeting your eager movements. Your free hand grips him at the base, gliding in time with your mouth. You use your thumb to add pressure to the underside of his dick, mirroring the action with your tongue as well.

Moans are escaping with his deep breaths. You look up again and see his eyes clenched shut and his mouth agape. The way his brows furrow and lips curl into a snarl the same way when he was enraged and aroused turns you on endlessly.

You quicken your pace, aching to feel him come undone.

“Wait,” he says weakly, getting closer. “Stop, stop, stop,” he pleads in quick succession.

But you can’t. You’re too drunk off his pleasure to ever quit.

His orgasm spills over, unleashing hot spurts of cum onto your tongue. You swallow him without hesitation.

You tilt your head up, pleased with yourself, but he’s not blissed out like you were hoping.

He seems… angry. Or turned on still. It was really fucking hard to tell.

“Thought I told you to stop,” he snaps.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl.

“Sorry,” he scoffs. “Get up.”

You stand to face him, searching for something other than anger in his expression. He grabs you by the back of your hair, yanking back roughly. You let out a gasp.

“Since ya like swallowing so damn much.” You watch in awe as he spits directly in your open mouth. It partially paints your puffy, sensitive lip. “There you go.”

You swallow his saliva, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. It’s ironically the closest thing you’ve had to a kiss with him.

“Don’t I get a thank you?” He half questions, half demands in a harsh tone.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him softly, giving your best innocent doe eyes.

“I guess you didn’t want my cock buried in that pretty pussy, huh?” He taunts.

“I want it so bad,” you whine, “but I wanted to make you feel good.”

His expression softens. “You did, baby,” he says, moving his hand to cup your cheek.

Your heart swells at the pet name and newfound tenderness.

Joel moves his hand again to lift your dress and dip past the waistline of your panties.

“So wet from sucking my cock,” he hums. “I should just leave you like this. Aching for me.”

You don’t want to beg but you shake your head quickly.

“You need to be punished somehow, sweetheart.”

“However you want,” you pant desperately.

His eyes fall on the couch behind you. He takes a few steps before turning to sit on it. He extends a hand out to you.

Tentatively, you make your way toward him. He holds your hand in his as you stand between his open legs, feeling a shyness take over.

“Over my knee, baby,” he tells you.

You turn to the side and bend forward until your hips are resting on his strong thigh and your forearms are resting on the couch. Joel yanks your underwear down swiftly.

Before you can brace yourself you hear a loud smack and feel the sharp sting of his hand. You hiss through your teeth, wondering how many more you have left.

He slaps his hand down again in the same spot, causing you to yelp this time. As he continues, the pain begins to mix with pleasure. You keep yourself from rubbing against his thigh without his permission.

He delivers another blow and you moan loudly. “Fuck, Da-“

“Say it,” he coaxes. “Who am I?” He asks with another sharp slap.

“Daddy!” You cry out, tears threatening to spill over.

He lands one more smack before switching to a soft caress. Your skin is so sensitive, it sends a harsh shiver through your body.

“Your ass looks so pretty covered in my handprints, baby,” he says, continuing to run his fingers lightly over the reddened skin. “You did so good for me.”

“I’m sorry you had to punish me, Daddy,” you sniffle, the tears finally coming down.

“Come here,” he tells you, repositioning your body to face him, straddling his thighs. You study his face in the dim lighting. His eyes always looked a little pained, you realize. Deep set lines etched themselves in his forehead over the heads, softer ones around his eyes. Your gaze wandered over his prominent nose and strong jaw, covered in graying, patchy scruff. He’s not your usual type and yet you couldn’t think of a man you’d ever found more attractive. Your eyes landed on his full lips, dying to kiss them.

He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, closing the gap between your faces. His lips felt somehow softer than they looked against yours. You part your mouth eagerly and he takes no time to enter your mouth. His tongue expertly licks at yours. You moan desperately into his kiss, grinding your drenched pussy into his half hard cock.

“Please,” you beg him.

He chuckles gently at you. “You’re expecting an old man to fuck like a teenager.”

You let out a huff, wishing you had listened to him.

“I won’t leave you hanging, sweetheart.” He brings his hand down between you, rubbing your clit with his thumb for a moment before pushing two thick fingers into you with ease. “But you gotta get yourself off this time.”

You start slow, dizzy with lust as you move yourself up and down on his fingers. He curls them slightly, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“That feel good, baby?” He purrs.

“So good, Daddy,” you answer, quickening your pace and grinding down on his palm.

He brings his free hand up, pulling the straps down on your dress. He ducks his head down and his mouth is at your chest, surely salty from sweat. He licks and kisses over your breasts before dragging his nose up your neck, inhaling your musk.

The simple movement send you that much closer to the edge, the pleasure threatening to bubble over at at moment. You chase your release, bouncing and grinding on Joel’s hand while you think about the orgasm you gave him moments ago. The twisting coil in your center comes free as you cum on his fingers with a loud cry.

“Good girl,” he praises in a strained whisper before planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

You come down from your high with shaky breaths. He takes his fingers away, wiping them on his already ruined pants.

You throw your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to burn it into your memory.

He lets you stay that way for a while, running his hand up and down your back.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “We gotta go.”

You hate that you have to leave. You would sleep at the club if it meant spending more time with Joel. But you relent, climbing off his lap and retrieving your underwear.

Joel is first to exit the room, you follow slowly behind and see him emerge from his office with your bag in his hand. You hold your arm out to take it but he ignores your gesture, carrying it for you as he walks you to your car.

Yours and his are the only two left in the lot, well beyond close.

“Text me when you get home,” he tells you, giving you your bag back.

He pulls his phone out and hands it to you for you to put your number in. You enter it in alongside your real name and save the contact.

“I will,” you promise. “Goodnight, Joel.”

He bids you goodnight with another kiss on the forehead.

It’s late and you are beyond exhausted when you reach your apartment. You pull your phone out and see one new message from an unknown number.

Joel Miller

You smile, and send him a quick text back.

Home.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #joel miller series #tlou smut

241 notes · View notes