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adventuringblind · 9 months

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Nerospicy has never been so cute

Oscar Piastri x Nerodivergent!reader

Genre: fluff... angst if you squint.

Request: nope but they are open! Max, Charles, Oscar, Lando, George, Daniel and Pierre are on the list. Also open for poly fics if anyone is interested.

Summary: just cute fluff between Oscar and his autistic coded partner

Warnings: idk people who can't mind their own business IG

Notes: This is self-indulgent, and I do not care. I just wanna feel supported, okay? T_T

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feeling hurt if you ignor this but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

You weren't sure if you'd ever fit in with people. Something about you always felt different from others.

Maybe it was that you didn't understand their antics. Their jokes weren't funny to you, or you didn't understand them. They seemed you as sensitive, but you're really just incredibly empathic.

You were interested in things that they weren't. You hated certain foods, textures, and feeling in general.

Then somtimes it all became too much. Alone in a dark room with headphones in. Attempting to soothe yourself from the overwhelming feelings running through your mind and body.

Your friends wanted to go out of a Friday night. Previously, you were feeling alright and decided to go with. Instantly regretting your decision as soon as you walked into the door of the club.

It was here that you met Oscar.

He didn't really want to be here. He'd given into the pleas of his friends who didn't want to go without him. He liked people and going out to have fun, but he wasn't in the mood right now.

He noticed you sitting at the bar nursing a drink. You looked like you wouldn't bother him, and the bar was already crowded, so he sat down on the stool next to yours.

You briefly looked over at him. Finding your drink to be more entertaining than the male next to you.

You were getting more overwhelmed by the second. The discreetly hidden earbuds only help so much. The vibration of the bass and the lights combined made you want to puke. You wanted to get out of there, but your body was ever so slowly shutting down.

Oscar noticed how your body was shrinking into itself. He didn't want to stare, but it was obvious you were in distress.

"Are you alright?" Asked the Australian.

You didn't look up at him, and words became too difficult, so you settled for shaking your head no.

Oscar thought about it for a minute. "Do you want to get out of here? I'm not in the mood to party, and you don't seem like you are either." He grimaced at how awkward he felt like he sounded. "I promise I'm not a serial killer or something." He laughed but it was more at himself then anything.

Eager to leave, regardless of who the man was, you stood up and made your way towards the door. You didn't have a tab, just water in your glass to make you feel like you belonged.

Once outside the door, you breathe a sigh of relief. Less people, less vibration, and less light.

You wanted to cry, though. Your body still feeling everything.

"Do you need anything? A ride home even? I probably seem like suck a creep right now." Oscar rubs his temples.

For the first time, you fully examine the male. Shocked to see kind features and gentle eyes. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans.

"Thank you." You managed. Not wanting him to feel like a weirdo any longer.

He paused and looked up at you. Wanting to find your eyes but noticing your eyes did not want to find his. "I'm Oscar, by the way." He reached out his hand for you to shake.

Which you did hesitantly. "I'm Y/N."

You had explained to Oscar that you didn't live close to here. Over an hour away at best. You'd been exploring the town with friends earlier in the day when they decided to end the night at the club.

He offered you a stay at his apartment for the night and then he could take you home in the morning.

"Actually, can I take you on a date first?" He'd found you intriguing and beautiful, and he didn't want this to be for one night.

You were nervous, to say the least, but when he offered to take you anywhere you wanted to go, the deal seemed appealing. Furthermore, there was a music store you wanted to look at that your friends had passed by. So when he offered, you pointed him in the direction.

"Can I ask you something?" His eyes never left the rode, and you were grateful for it. It helped the conversation flow easier for you.

"Sure." You shrugged.

"Why are you wearing earbuds?"

Oh. You dreaded this. Talking about the way your body and mind work had yet to end well.

Your hesitancy did not do unnoticed, so Oscar quickly followed up with "you don't have to answer if it's uncomfortable."

"Well, it's just that- loud noise makes me overwhelmed, and things like headphones help drown it out." You fumbled.

"Oh I use those at work too sometimes cause it can get loud."

He seemed so natural saying it. His calm demeanor helping you to read him a bit better.

He then proceeded to tell you about his job and ask questions about you. He was very clear when he spoke. Eventually helping you to wind down.

This guy you just met was taking you on a date. Was it a good idea to out yourself? Probably not, but if you didn't care for people opinions much. "I'm autistic."

"I was wondering that but didn't want to ask. I had a friend in school that was, and in some ways, you seem similar to him." He hit his head on the steering wheel. "I'm not trying to stereotype. I'm sorry that probably sounded rude."

You laughed at him. His response was one of the best you'd been given. "It's alright, it's actually kind of cool that you picked up on it."

When you arrived it the music store it was ten minutes to close. The records lined the walls, and boxes of CDs were packed to the brim. Not many people use them nowadays, but it felt comfortable in the little store.

You and Oscar browsed the music and talked about the different kinds of music you like. It felt natural. Even when you knew you were info-dumping, he just listened intently and asked questions about your interest.

Soon enough, the shopkeeper asked you both to leave. You waved a thank you and slid back into Oscar's car.

"Thank you for indulging me. I really enjoyed this." You were shocked to hear that come from him. Mainly because you felt like you talked his ear off.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, but not the awkward kind.

He opened the door for you when you arrived. His apartment was comfortable. It's not super empty or overly decorated. It's just comfortable.

"Right, so you can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and take the room, and I'll take the couch." He didn't even give you a chance to protest as he sped off to gether the essentials.

You two didn't do much sleeping that night. Wasting away the time. The clock moving two fast for your liking. You two spent hours conversing and laughing with each other.

Somewhere along the line, Oscar passed out on the couch, and you had made your way to his room like he said to.

You two exchanged numbers when it was finally time for you to leave his car. He promised to stay in contact with you.

A promise he followed through on. It didn't take long til you were following him around to races.

You were mostly watched from the quiet places in the McLaren paddock. Sometimes, it even curled up in Oscar's driver room. He didn't mind, though, making it a small game you played between the two of you.

You and Lando got along nicely as well. Oscar only getting frustrated when it comes to both of you and your eating habits.

You were manageable, but Lando was just ridiculous in his eyes.

You didn't actively say your autistic but definitely explained why you are the way you are. Eventually, people came to their own conclusions. The gossip pages included.

You didn't really understand the criticism at first. People had always misjudged and misunderstood. But when they started nitpicking your every move, it became annoying.

The names didn't bother you. It was them saying Oscar deserved someone who wasn't as weird.

It followed you everywhere. These labels that the media had given you.

You were happy with Oscar. He treated you so well, and you were doing your best to support him. You two created your own small routines that you enjoyed.

You couldn't even walk through the paddock without journalists trying to question you. The physical souch of their bodies and shouting so they could be heard sending your body into overdrive. You liked the environment of racing, but this was over your limit.

You were so glad you texted Oscar you had arrived. Him responding that he was already on his way to you.

He noticed the journalists first, then you at the center of attention. Your hands in your hair and your breathing rapid. You looked like you might scream.

His legs moved faster than his mind as he put himself in between you and anyone else. Very gently, placing a hand on your shoulder to try and guide you away.

You did end up screaming. Your body needing to release all the pent-up emotions you'd been wanting to release earlier. Thankfully, it was somewhere private and muffled by Oscar's jacket.

You didn't want the so close like that. They were too much. They questions they asked were incredibly invasive. Some even going as far as to ask about intimate things.

You managed to explain to Oscar what happened. His listening intently, watching you play with his fingers in the pattern your head had come up with.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make things hard for you."

Oscar smiled and simply shook his head. "You aren't making things difficult, and on the contrary, you and your nerodivergent brain have never looked so cute."

"I just got done screaming and trying to self-soothe."

"It doesn't matter. You still look absolutely adorable." He kissed the top of your head, hoping to convey what he was feeling without words.

Am hour later, Oscar had posted to his socials about you. A letter to anyone who wants to form an opinion.

"Leave my girlfriend be. Neither of us likes having our personal lives invaded. You like to assume things but don't have all the facts. I love her very much, and that should be all that matters."

As you read it and looked at Oscar, who was giving you a goofy smile for being proud of what he'd just done. You realized just how much he loved you. Despite your labels, he saw past them and loved you for you.

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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

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i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Prev | THE END

🤍Masterlist

“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?”

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.”

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself.

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion.

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you.

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?”

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall.

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?”

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that.

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin?

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more.

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came?

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.”

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking.

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest.

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled.

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed.

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.”

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts.

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough.

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress.

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.”

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again.

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring.

“It, uh, popped.”

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?”

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall.

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook.

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist.

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you.

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!”

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast.

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.”

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing.

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more.

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?”

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter.

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back. “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?”

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.”

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.”

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?”

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly.

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release.

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.”

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door.

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books.

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?”

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better.

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?”

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.”

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo.

Funny how that all fucking worked out.

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off.

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.”

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh.

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,”

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.”

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest.

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.”

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.”

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear.

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.”

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you.

Don’t look at me like that.

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded.

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot.

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night.

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn.

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you.

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,”

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.”

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar.

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.”

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night.

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life.

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm.

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you?

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once.

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and –

Does not find a bra.

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open.

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him.

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure.

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits.

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it.

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head.

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him.

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?”

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely.

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror.

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you.

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo.

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress.

“C’mere, baby girl–,”

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his.

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air –

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses.

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder.

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.”

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are.

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches.

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl.

God, he’s so hard it hurts.

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try.

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.”

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass.

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him.

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan.

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched.

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all.

Families share similar insecurities, after all.

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts.

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,”

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain.

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales.

Girlsex.

Girlsweat.

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell.

He wants . . . to put his dick into something.

But first –

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan.

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal.

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top.

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent.

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have.

Even when you left him, you’d never forget –

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip.

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

Settle down. We’re only just getting started.

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next.

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you.

Oh my God, duh, fingers.

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed.

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt.

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him.

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like–

Do not fucking come right now.

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.”

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off.

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.”

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it.

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee.

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher –

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open.

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.”

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you.

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation.

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness.

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress.

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain.

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it.

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear.

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes.

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it.

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.”

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock.

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once.

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.”

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick.

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more.

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears.

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much.

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned.

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast.

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.”

I want to die in this cunt.

“So good, baby.”

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you.

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance.

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees.

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders.

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it.

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips.

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing –

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.”

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours.

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point– all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.”

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw.

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you.

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you.

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes.

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him.

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.”

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet.

“David.”

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood.

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.”

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.”

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest.

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears.

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard.

“Holy shit.”

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps.

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are.

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.”

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.”

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him.

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant.

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece.

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.”

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum.

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple.

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.”

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase.

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests.

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets.

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip.

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.”

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize.

You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once.

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.”

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone.

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty.

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off.

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this.

I never want to see you again.

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%.

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame.

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside.

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean.

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap.

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.”

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .”

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.”

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all.

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but.

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table.

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist.

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.”

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face.

“Guess so.”

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him.

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling.

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic

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iamasaddie · 5 months

Text

if I'm still alive, my regrets are few

PIMP!Joel masterlist

paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 6k

summary: still scared of what's to come your brain comes up with an unexpected escape plan, that forses you to learn things about yourself

warnings (for the chapter): FonF 69 (thank you @milla-frenchy for the inspiration and prompt), oral m receiving, fingering, questionable sex positions but it works in my head; light praise kink; light dirty talk, Tess is a queen

a/n: wow, it's here, isn't it? i can't believe my eyes. un-betaed, finished at midnight, i will come back to edit if there are any magor mistakes i didn't see on my fifth reread. hope you enjoy it, don't forget to leave a comment!

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍ�� ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

“Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The smell of the burning food hit your nose and you ran out of the bathroom, hands covered in soapy foam up to your elbows. When you left Joel last night, it was with the heavy burden of guilt. You knew you shouldn’t have done that, yet you did it anyway and now you faced the consequences. Joel had more than every right to be angry with you, but you felt that nagging pang, that someone was rightfully mad at you, that he was mad at you, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You've been tossing and turning all night, expecting for Joel to show his face like he did the first night, but it looked like sex made him less of a light sleeper. Unable to find calmness in unconsciousness, you got up, making up your mind.

Obviously, you couldn't take what you did back, and you'd already said you were sorry, but you thought you could go an extra step, do something nice for Joel. If not to mend your relationship, then to at least make sure he wouldn't give you five clients in one day.

You shuddered.

You made peace with yourself, praying, meditating, and just turning off your brain accepting that the day had finally come. You knew that you learned enough to be a decent birdie, even though your confidence was still lacking. Sometimes you thought that you had some kind of a know-at-all syndrome, like you needed to know everything and maybe more to finally walk with you head up. Shaking your head, you sighed, there was no way Joel would spend any more of his time on you, he made that clear, but at least you could part on good terms.

That was how you ended up flooding his small bathroom with foam caused by using too much detergent, and burning the eggs you decided to make for breakfast at the same time.

You hurried to take the smoking pan off the stove, but the handle was too hot so you ended up dropping it barely escaping your feet.

“What the hell's goin' on?” Joel's groggy voice was not a surprise, yet you hoped you'd have some time to clean up. Plastering the sweetest smile you could manage, you looked up at him.

“Good morning, Joel, I made breakfast!”

He looked at your feet where the pan was still smoking, eggs burned to a crispy black edge, and raised his eyebrows. “If that's a good mornin', I'm afraid to ask what a bad one looks like.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you seem to say that a lot.” He clenched his jaw and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and bringing some color to them. “Can you fix that? I'll go wash up. We’ve got a long day.”

You just nodded, squatting to get the pan. The burnt smell made your eyes water, and you hurried to drop it in the sink, throwing away the egg remnants and filling the pan with water.

Water.

“What the fuck happened in the bath?!”

Fuck.

You pushed reheated yesterday’s dinner around your plate, every piece of food sticking to your throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. Joel in front of you didn’t seem to have such a problem. When he finished shoveling down the last bits of breakfast - both of you kept the space around you drenched in silence - he moved the plate away and leaned back on the chair. He tilted his head to the side a little, scratching the spot where the hair was missing on his outgrown stubble.

“Nervous?” His voice startled you, and you dropped the fork on the table creating more irritating noise.

“Nah,” you tried to brush off, but he looked at you intently, and you gave up. “Yeah, a lot.”

Joel nodded like he wasn’t expecting any other answer, he dropped his hand from his face and placed both of them on the table, hands in fists but not tense. “Don’t be.” He said simply, and you wanted to laugh at his ignorance. Like it was him that was going to sell his body to strangers. “You’re a good girl, have a good cunt. You’ll be just fine.”

You choked on air hearing his compliment but still mumbled thanks, not really convinced by his words. Joel let out a long breath, patting his stomach with one hand with the other still on the table.

“What are you nervous about?”

It was the longest conversation you had in the last three days, and you felt kind of grateful. Even if he didn’t really show it, you knew he’d just leave you wallowing in terror if at least a tiny bit of him didn’t care about you. That made you feel warm inside. Perhaps a burnt breakfast and half washed laundry was a key to a man’s heart.

“I don’t think I know…” you started slowly, trying to find the right words inside your brain. “I don’t know everything I need to know. Like,” a couple dozens of examples ran through your mind but you landed on the least helpful one. “What was the weirdest thing a client asked?”

Joel raised his brows, dark brown pools hidden under them looked at you with wonder. Clearly, he didn’t expect that. He sat up straighter, while still trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

“We’re not some… fetish club. Everything that happens at ‘Eden’ is pretty classical. Maybe…”

He stopped himself, and that only grabbed your attention more. You leaned on the table, as if moving closer to Joel would make him speak. Your bones were trembling with all the ideas your brain provided. How bad was it? Did they hang people up with hooks? Could clients cut you for the right price? Were they allowed to shove stuff in your? Your pussy clenched in fear.

“What?” You heard your voice tremble, already wound up from your own thoughts.

“I dunno,” Joel shrugged his shoulders and swiped his thumb over his brow, making the hairs stick out a little. “Sometimes women come and ask for a girl. But I wouldn’t call it weird. It’s still sex.”

For a moment you felt the weight of the world dropping from your shoulders. If woman on woman was the weirdest thing happening in that place, it was far from Sodom and Gomorrah playing out in your head. But as soon as relief came it was washed away.

“Wait, women?”

Joel nodded simply. “What, you have a problem with that?”

“No, I…” Fuck. You had just learned what sex was like with a man, and here you were, going somewhere where you needed to be Devil’s favorite call girl, who knew the tricks and secrets. And it wasn’t the fact that there could be women in your bed that was making you nervous, it was the fear of being unable to give them pleasure. The thought of an exasperated sigh followed by a condescending ‘it’s okay, sweetie’ in a fake, almost synthetic female voice in your head made you shiver. “I don’t know.”

“You don't know if you’re okay with having sex with a woman?” You kept your silence, not even able to give the answer to yourself, let alone Joel. But he kept giving ideas, followed by bright even if blurred pictures in your mind. “What if there’s a threesome? A client, you and one of my other girls?”

Now it was just getting scarier and scarier. It was one thing to disappoint just one woman, but to have an audience?

“No, I mean… I think I’m okay with having sex with women, I just never did, so I don’t think I can…” You tried to explain yourself, failing miserably. “It’s easier with men, you’re pretty basic in your pleasure.”

Joel barked out a laugh and you couldn’t ignore the warm twitch of your heart. You liked it when he laughed, he had a very special rasp to it, and he did it so rarely that you learned to treasure it.

“Week ago you couldn’t speak about sex without flustering, and now you’re what, dick whisperer?”

“I don't mean..-”

“I know what you mean. It's okay, I won't send you girls, yet.”

“Or maybe…”

An idea punched you in the head like a bright light early in the morning. Here it was, your salvation. Or, at least, postponement. You didn’t let yourself dwell on it, scared that you’d back up immediately, but as if Joel read your mind he tugged the words out of you with a simple question.

“Yes?”

“If you're fine with that… Maybe you could invite one of your birds over? To… to practice? The more I know the more money you'll get, no?”

You were scared to raise your eyes to meet Joels, instead studying all the ways you could bend your fingers this and that way. That was until you heard Joel’s chair creaking, and he took the similar position as you, with his elbows on the table, his head leaning to you so close that you almost touched.

“What has gotten into you, hm?” He whispered incredulously, you heard amusement in his voice. “Are you becoming a little nympho?”

“A whompho?”

You raised your head, your eyes immediately caught in the honey trap of his. He studied you for a while, and then got out the table, the chair legs screeching against the wooden floor. You didn’t move, just followed him with your eyes as he got dressed and prepared to leave the apartment.

“Clean up in here, we're having a guest over tonight.”

Your arms and knees were sore when you finished cleaning up. Taking in the results of your work you smiled proudly, the floors were clean, the blankets were folded, and it even almost stopped smelling like burnt eggs. You wanted to stretch on the couch, but were afraid that you’d fall asleep again, so you opted for sitting at the table, counting the little cracks in the old wood. Time was passing torturously slowly and you jumped at every sound you heard. But amidst the lingering anxiety, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You tried to imagine how your evening would go, thinking about who Joel would bring and if he’d participate himself, and instead of being terrified at the idea of another woman in your bed, you felt arousal painting your panties.

A woman, just like you. Soft, gentle, complicated. Beautiful. Your mouth salivated. What would it feel like to kiss lips that are so similar to yours, what would you experience if you dive into the wetness of someone else’s pussy, bringing them pleasure like you learned to bring it to yourself.

You never thought about this aspect of yourself. Never had an opportunity to fully explore your attractions, so you just went with something that was automatically given, but now, you were thrilled. This whole experience became something way more important for you than you expected in the first place, you didn’t know if you were happy or terrified.

You heard the key turning in the lock, two pairs of boots stepping inside the apartment followed by two voices: one you knew intimately, and the other you didn’t know at all. Your heart raced as you stood up, caught between anticipation and anxiety.

A woman walked in, her eyes landing on you immediately. You tried saying hello, but the words stuck in your throat and you just stared back. She was gorgeous. Easily older than you, her eyes bearing more intellect and experience than you thought you could gather your whole life. She gave you a once over, stopping at your bare legs, covered to the mid-thigh by the t-shirt you borrowed.

Joel followed her into the kitchen and as soon as he stepped inside, you felt like you could breathe. Like everything was under control now.

“So,” the woman in front of you didn’t look very interested in anything besides you, her eyes watching your every twitch and tremor. She was calm, her voice quiet but strong. “You’re the famous rabbit, huh?”

You saw Joel tense up, the knuckles of his clenched fists became wide, and he looked at the woman with something like warning, which she ignored plopping down on a chair and taking his untouched cup of coffee from the table, the only thing you were afraid to pour out knowing how attached the man was to his caffeine.

You didn’t know you were famous already. Did that mean Joel was advertising you or something? Your cheeks burned. The woman in front of you was intimidating. No more than Joel, but intimidating nonetheless. It sent an unexpected shiver downpour spine and straight to your core. There was something undeniably sexy about her, you didn’t even wonder why Joel chose her for what you were about to do. She was still looking at you like she was expecting an answer, even though it was quite obvious. You nodded your head, coming closer and sitting down next to her.

“Guess I am.” You put your hand on the table, and soon after saw the woman letting go of Joel’s cup and placing her still hot palm on top of your, gently brushing over your knuckles while still looking into your eyes.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Tess.”

Tess, the sound of her name was like a whisper, like a delicious hiss of meat on a hot pan, something that made your heart race, and your cunt clench.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tess.” You loved tasting her name on your tongue, her hand soft and warm around yours. You didn’t lie, it really was nice to meet her.

“You seem a little frightened, little rabbit,” she tilted her head, finding your eyes and smiling at you. “Did this big old dog scare you?”

She didn’t need to point at Joel for you to know who she meant. You shook your head, embarrassment heating up your neck.

“Then what is it, baby? You can tell Tess, I swear I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

“I just never, I…” You looked at Joel, and Tess did the same.

“Joel, can you leave us for a moment?”

You looked at Joel, taking in his form. His brooding form was still as a constipated statue, his jaw tense, you could almost hear his teeth grinding. He didn’t look at you, instead staring Tess in the eyes, as if communicating wordlessly. She handled his look without batting an eye.

“Tess…”

There was warning in his voice. You’ve heard it before once, but you still got the shivers running down your spine. Tess, on the other hand, remained unaffected, waving him off.

“Us girls need to chat. We’ll meet you in the room.” She vaguely pointed towards where his room was, and gave him a little smile before whispering sultry, “get naked, Daddy.”

You furrowed your brows at the nickname she gave him, something pinching your insides, but you shook the feeling off, turning your attention back to Tess. You didn’t know how she did it, but Joel listened to her, barely nodding and retreating to his room.

“Men, right?” She huffed, taking one of your hands in both of hers and squeezing. “So, rabbit, why you tremblin’?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Somehow it was easier to admit that to her. Maybe because she was a woman, or because she looked at you with such warmth that you took a chance trusting her.

“Does anyone?” Tess leaned back on the chair, still keeping one of your hands between hers. The gesture made you at ease, like she was taking all the stress away with a gentle brush of her thumbs.

You smiled, lowering your head a little. She did not look like a stupid woman, but you still decided to elaborate. “No, I mean like in bed, I don’t know what I’m doing in bed.”

“Again, does anyone?” Tess shrugged her shoulders. "Baby, sex ain’t math, you can’t have a perfect algorithm to make every encounter you have a hundred percent success.”

Unbelievable. She was fucking unbelievable. The look in the woman’s eyes didn’t change a bit when you bared your insecurities to her. You were no-one to Tess, maybe you were even a pain in the ass since Joel clearly took her here to ‘work’, and yet there was nothing that gentle care and understanding falling from her lips. Like she was afraid to hurt you, to scare you off. Such a strong-looking, intimidating woman with a confident stride and a sharp wit, and yet she handled you with such delicacy.

“Look, yes, we obviously have pleasure spots, kinks, fetishes that get us off without a fail, but you can only learn that with a partner. Someone who’s either open and loud about everything, or someone that has been with you for a long time. There’s no shortcut to a perfect sexual experience.”

You admired her ability to effortlessly navigate the sensitive topic with grace and honesty. In that moment she reminded you of Joel. She was telling you everything you were dying to hear, and still the nagging itch of hesitance disturbed your feelings. “But what if I mess up? Men are so much easier, you stroke their dick and they cum, easy peasy.”

“Don’t tell that to Joel,” she laughed quietly as you continued.

“Women are…”

Tess didn’t let you finish, softly slapping one of her hands on top of yours. “You know what, let me take the lead today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t exactly know how to take what she was offering.

“I mean,” Tess leaned into you, your lips almost touching, “I am going to bury my face in your gorgeous pussy and show you all the right moves, and then you can do the same to me, okay?”

“I..” You licked your lips, your breathing speeding up.

“I take that as a yes.”

Tess stood up, not letting your hand out, and tugged you closer to her. You felt the heady, raw smell of her, mixed with something woody, almost like Joel. She dragged you towards Joel’s room, her arm around your waist keeping you close.

You stopped right before she opened the door.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Why are you… doing this?”

“That’s a story for another time, little one.” Her eyes gloomed over with something that contradicted her confident smile. You didn’t need her telling you the who’s and why’s to know that this was not her first choice. For the first time you felt sick from being right. You didn’t want to be right, not with her. Not with this woman that calmed you down with one flirty smile, that looked at you like you were worth something. Like you were worth a lot. She placed her warm palm on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone with her finger and making you look back at her. “But it’s not as bad as it might look. And Joel, he cares. He really does.”

She didn’t wait anymore, opening the door and dragging you with her.

You realized that nerves and anxiety got the best of you when Tess closed the door behind you both, and gently shoved you towards Joel, who was already sitting naked on the made up bed, stroking his half hard cock lazily. The look of his massive hand going up and down the intimately familiar to you shaft was the last thing you could remember before giving your body off to Tess to deal with it how she deemed worthy.

She was gentle with you, undressing you both piece by piece, and then guiding you on the bed and laying down, completely ignoring Joel with his back to you. You were quiet, both of you, letting your bodies do the work.

“Don’t be shy, baby, let yourself go,” Tess whispered, before claiming you trembling lips with hers, and placing your hands on her soft breasts, her hands on top of yours and squeezing.

Oh, what a new feeling it was. She was all tender flesh and soft moans as your bodies started grinding against each other. At one point she tugged you on top of her, making you straddle her hips as your wetness became one mixture of pleasure and excitement. There was no shame, there was no awkwardness, just raw desire to give. Give more, more, more, hear her moaning louder and sweeter in your ears. Tugging on the long silky strands of her hair as her fingers found your heat without question, letting you know what a woman could do to you. How unique and unforgettable her touch could be.

You felt hers coming up to your eyes, pleasure and gratitude overwhelming you as Tess plunged two of her fingers inside of your drenched pussy, but they couldn’t leave your eyes as she kissed them away. You swiped your nose along hers, closing your eyes and for the first time initiating the sweet kiss between you.

“It’s all good, but we aren’t making love here, birdies.”

Joel’s voice was loud as a slap in an empty room. With Tess under you, in you, you completely forgot that the man was in the room, and he seemed to notice that. You tried to turn your head and look at him, but Tess grabbed your cheeks, still sealing your lips together even if for a moment. She let you go with a wet swipe of her tongue on your lower lip, “your lips are delicious, baby, but let me taste that beautiful cunt. Turn around and sit on my face.”

"What?” You whispered back in shock, not sure if Joel should hear what you say or not.

"Do as I say, okay? Be a good girl for me.”

You nodded dumbly. At that moment you wanted to be everything Tess could ever want, so if she wanted you to be on her face, who you were to say no.

You fought the awkwardness you felt as you took the position as fast as you could, immediately ending up on the same level with the woman’s pussy. You felt weird, crowding her head with your thighs, not exactly sure what you were supposed to do next, but Tess took the lead, roping your legs with her arms and practically shoving your face in her pussy, making you almost lay on her with your whole weight.

She didn’t wait for a signal, or a command from Joel, diving in your wetness eagerly, like it was her second nature, and - oh fuck - maybe it was her first.

You could barely contain the sweet moans as Tess let her lips wander and nip at your soft folds, swiping her tongue deep inside you before pulling out and gently circling your clit. She was less hungry, but more determined, perfectly aware of every little spot that made you twitch and shake.

With her tangy smell invading your senses, you didn’t even need to make a decision before tentatively sliding your own tongue through her leaking core. Apparently, what you thought was awkward, felt absolutely different for Tess because you felt her moan deep inside you before you could hear it. “Go on, baby, just like that.” She said, before giving each of your thighs a small bite and returning her attention back on your pussy. You didn’t need to be told twice, as you returned to your caresses, trying to replicate everything Tess did to you. When she plunged her tongue deep in your entrance, you greedily gulped down her arousal, when she sucked on your clit, repeatedly swiping the tip of her tongue up and down over your bud, you made sure that you gave her the same attention.

Either you were less sensitive, or she was more turned on, but as you brought two of your hands beneath her asscheeks, squeezing them and trying to press her glistening cunt harder in your face, what you could swear looked like you were trying to eat her alive, Tess started shaking, her movements on your pussy coming to a halt as her back arched up, lifting you both up.

Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful sound it was, you thought to yourself, still trying to lick up every drop of her that she left on your lips.

You felt the bed dip, and then someone’s hand lifting your head up by your hair.

“Good job, now you get a treat.”

“What?” Of course it wasn’t just someone, it was Joel, the man of whose existence you completely forgot as every part of your mind and body was dedicated to make a woman beneath you feel as much pleasure as you could. But he was always there, standing as a shadow, leaning on a wall with his hands tight in his fists, and his cock furious with arousal and untouched.

Now that same cock was centimeters away from your puffy lips, still glistening with Tess’ cum.

"You worked Tess beautifully, so let’s play out a scenario when you also have a man in the room. You wanted to learn, right?"

You could barely understand what he was saying, but with the woman’s lips back on your pussy and working you up to your orgasm vigorously, nothing looked more attractive than Joel’s cock in your mouth. The thought of his cum mixing with her in your mouth made you let out another stream of arousal and Tess hummed in your entrance.

You placed your hands on Joel’s hips, changing your position a little, but still straddling the woman’s face as he guided his cock in your waiting mouth.

“Fu-uck,” he exhaled, as you tried to shove as much of him as you could inside your mouth and moaned as his salty taste complemented the one of Tess’. Almost on autopilot, you hollowed your cheeks, saliva and cum that coated your lips made the glide of your mouth easier, and you fell into a perfect dance, as Tess fucked your hole with her tongue, and Joel fucked your mouth with his cock.

It was deliciously heavy and throbbing on your tongue, filling up the limited space of your mouth and inching down to tease the back of your throat with the fat head.

"What a perfect little whore, just fucking - God, you’re so greedy for my cock, just my cock, nothing else matters, baby.” You were delusional, every cell of your body screaming and itching, every pore electrifying as you felt Joel grab your throat with his wide palm and taking all the control from you. His cock relentlessly fucked into your heat, his words slurred and understood only by him, like he was just unable to keep his mouth shut.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby, feel your little throat real good, I know how bad you want it, saw you salivating over me, fuck, fuck, take it, just take it, baby.” His movements became erratic as his cock burst deep inside your throat. Just as you predicted, his salty, slightly bitter taste was a perfect combination for Tess’ honey still clinging to your palette. You didn’t expect Joel to cum so fast, when you were still on the verge of orgasm yourself, but you couldn’t complain. The man was the solution to your pleasure, the discovery you still tried to ignore, and now it was just one little lick, one suck from those skillful lips, and you felt you would - -

“That’s enough.” Joel’s voice was barely loud enough to pierce through the moans that continued leaving your opened mouth, and the deafening rush of your blood as Tess continued sloppily slurping on your pussy, shoving her tongue in your sensitive hole just to make you beg and whimper. Joel’s hand grabbed your head that you lowered as soon as he slid his softening dick out, and he yanked it up, making you look at him. His eyes concentrated on a drop of his cum that managed to escape your lips. He swiped his thumb and shoved it inside your open mouth, not reacting when you bit at it with your teeth while also licking the last remnants of him off. “I fucking said stop, Tess.”

Surprisingly to you, she listened. Her mouth unlatched from your puffy, glistening cunt, and you heard her smack her lips, saying nothing.

“No-no-no,” you started whining, Joel’s finger pressing on your tongue made the words slurred. You were so close, you knew, a couple more licks from Tess and you’d spray her face with your cum. You looked at Joel with confusion and anger.

He ignored the daggers from you, released his finger from your mouth furrowing his brows when you grazed his skin with your top teeth too hard, and patted Tess in her thigh. “You can go, birdie.”

“What? But I didn’t get to..-” you were interrupted by Tess gently pushing you off herself and you fell in your ass, body still buzzing with the undelivered orgasm. Tess made a quick work of her clothes, the woman got dressed even faster than undressed, and the look of curiosity that painted her face when she looked at Joel didn’t escape your attention. As she finished buttoning up, she came back to the bed where you were still naked, silent, and confused. Her soft hand caressed your cheek, and she lowered herself to be in the same face level with you.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna be fine.” She sealed her words with a gentle kiss, that you could barely feel on your lips.

As soon as the door behind her closed, you turned to Joel, staring him dead in the eyes. Was it his way of torturing you? “Why didn’t you let me cum?”

“We talked about it already on your first night, sometimes the client won’t be able to make you cum. Most of the time they won’t. But you still need to enjoy the process, you know. At the end of the day what’s more important is that your client comes, and both of yours did.”

“But she could make me come, Joel. You just stopped her!” You felt the boiling frustration overwhelm your senses, your hands twitched with violent intentions. You wanted to slap him right across his smug face.

“Could, couldn’t. It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, absolutely comfortable in his nakedness, his dick soft but still impressing and glistening from your saliva.

“Fucking great, just absolutely fuckin’ royal shit.” You shuffled from the bed, ripping the sheets you tugged over yourself to cover your nakedness and stomping on the way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” You turned back to look at Joel, he still didn’t move, but he didn’t smile anymore, instead he looked almost… disappointed?

“I am going to shove whatever you have in your freezer up my pussy, because this,” you vaguely pointed at your lower region, “is just painful.”

“Don’t you want to come?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not yet.”

Fucking Joel, with his fucking riddles and his fucking confidence and that stupid fucking dimple when he smiles at you like that.

“What’s the point of this lesson if you let me come then?” You still didn’t hide neither anger nor frustration from your voice, but this time they were accompanied by curiosity.

“The lesson is pretty simple, if you don’t get to come with your client, you can always come to me,” Joel pointed at himself, and it should’ve looked ridiculous with his naked state, but it didn’t, and it pissed you off, but more so it turned you on. “And I’ll help you as soon as you ask.”

“Will you help me?” You took a few steps towards him, already feeling arousal wetting the skin between your thighs.

“Told ya, just need to ask me that’s all.”

His eyes were fixed on you, seeing every move, and you already knew the hunger inside them. You didn’t need to ask, he would still give it to you. But you still played his game.

“Please, Joel, ” you placed your hands on his naked chest, letting the sheet you held as a cover drop on the floor, and your thumbs stroked his nipples, “make me cum.”

Joel almost shoved you back to the bed, hovering above you, bracketing you with his arms and thighs. You took one look

“Just like the first time, baby,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the shell of it with his words, “you’re even more riled up now.” Two of his fingers teased your swollen, almost raw from all the abuse clit, and then slowly sank in your pulsing wet entrance. “Bet it’ll only take a couple of strokes.”

You both hated and loved that he was right. You were right there, and Joel’s thick fingers filling you up more than four of Tess’ could just made you wanton. Mad with desire and pleasure he so freely gave to you, you soon became bouncing on his fingers yourself, trying to shove them deeper, trying to feel that sting that ruined you the first time.

“Come on, baby, I feel her squeezing me, she’s so close, let her go, let her cum, she wants it so bad,” he whispered in your neck, tasting the sweat that already covered your body.

“Please, please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for, your mind foggy with pleasure, pain, need, every little thing overwhelming your senses. You felt a sharp, stinging bite on your neck and that served as the last button, pushing you over and soaking Joel’s hand along with his sheets. Your moans overflowed his soft praise, and you didn’t feel the barely-there kiss he let himself leave in the middle of the throbbing bite mark.

“Am I your birdie now?” You felt weird sensations laying in his bed together. The intimacy of staying so close, the mix of sweat from your bodies mixed on your skin, when you’re not actually having sex felt raw and you hurried to sprinkle it with reality.

“Nah,” Joel lifted himself up on one elbow and leaned over you to grab a dozen cigarettes tied together by a rubber and a pack of matches. He laid back down, tugged one cigarette out and lit it. The smoke came out from his lips in one steady stream, but he made an attempt of twisting his lips to the side, so he didn’t blow it in your face. Joel continued looking at the ceiling, the only contact left between you two were your sticky shoulders glued back together. “How can you be my birdie, if you’re a rabbit? Rabbits can’t fly.” He finally looked at you, grazing you with a proud smirk.

Something warm spread inside you when you heard him call you by your nickname. Another wave of excitement spread beneath your skin, like when he so brazenly left a kiss on your neck. But then your heart slowed down, remembrance of what’s to come washing over you. Your sad smile didn’t share his joy, so you quietly sighed, it was your turn to stare at the crumbling plaster above your head.

“So what? It’s not like any of your birds got wings.” You chuckled softly, the sound catching in your throat.

don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter 🐇🤍

#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #tess servopolous x reader #tess x reader #htbs #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel x female reader

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xanasaurusrex · 3 months

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Hii, I've read your Percy Jackson cabins headcanons and I loved them! They're are soo good! Could you please write for the Aphrodite cabin?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ aphrodite cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

a/n: so it's been a while since i've posted some cabin headcanons, and i LOVE aphrodite kids, and i've gotten a bunch of requests for aphrodite cabin hcs 😭 i'm sorry it took this long, i'm getting back into the cabin hcs but i'm focusing on fics rn, but yeah! i hope you all enjoy this, and thank you to everyone who requested aphrodite cabin! taglist: @asvterias @lvrue @thewritingbarbie @kroumi @ravisinghs-wife

so aphrodite kids are generally pretty cool

they're naturally very outgoing and caring people, who love big and hard and are wonderful people to have in your life

but they can also be a bit of a handful

they tend to have very big and dramatic emotions, and they cry at a lot of things

every aphrodite kid had the experience of being labeled a crybaby when they were younger

they come by their emotional-ness naturally

aphrodite kids are naturally very flirty as well

like they're the kind of people that flirt with their friends no matter what

which you would think would make it difficult to tell when they actually have a crush on somebody, but it doesn't for some reason, you can just kinda tell

aphrodite kids are not shy when they like someone

aphrodite kids are the type of people who as soon as they come to the conclusion that they have a crush on someone they just flat out tell them

obviously this doesn't happen every time because there are some aphrodite kids that are more shy, but for the most part, that's just the type of person they are

so not every aphrodite kid has the ability to charmspeak, but they all have a better skill at convincing people to do things for them

like it’s not charmspeak but they are naturally more charming/convincing

obviously kids who get the charmspeak gene are much more convincing than other aphrodite kids but you know what i mean

weird little quirk about aphrodite kids, they love sugar cookies

they could not tell you why, they just really love them for like, no reason

aphrodite kids are also huge matchmakers

like HUUUUGE

do not tell an aphrodite kid who you have a crush on if you don't want them to start trying to set you up with that person

although, if they do it's a good sign, because aphrodite kids really try not to matchmake a person with someone they don't like, because they think that's really mean on both parts

aphrodite kids were the kids that were dating in elementary and middle school

and saying "i love you" two days in, let's be totally honest

they also were totally wearing makeup at like 10

not that that's necessarily a bad thing, other demigods probably wore makeup at 10, aphrodite kids are just so much more likely

although it's a common misconception that aphrodite kids always wake up at 5 in the morning to put on an elaborate glam makeup look for everyday wear

that is not true

well, in some cases it is, but it's much more common for aphrodite kids to just wear casual, feature-enhancing makeup for everyday

don't get me wrong, when there's an occasion, they JUMP at the opportunity to go full glam

aphrodite kids also do other demigods' makeup when they need it

also, if you ever need a personal stylist, go to the aphrodite cabin beacuse they LOVE it when people need fashion advice

they often give it anyway, so it's extra nice when people don't yell at them for telling them how to style their orange camp t-shirts

yes, the camp half-blood orange shirts are iconic, but there are definitely aphrodite kids that have wanted to change the color to something a bit less... harsh, as it's hard to style something so bright

aphrodite kids LOVE making friendship bracelets

you know, the ones with embroidery floss that you tie knots to make, and you like tape it/tie it to your water bottle

aphrodite kids make those all day every day

they have a little plastic drawer thing that has just SO MUCH embroidery floss in it, all the colors you can imagine, complete with a few printed out templates that they sometimes use to make some fun ones

they give these out to literally everyone

they make sure that everyone in camp has at least one friendship bracelet made by them

they also like to teach kids from other cabins how to make them, and whenever an aphrodite kid gets a bracelet made by someone other than an aphrodite kid, they get so happy

their hearts just warm so quickly

it's adorable to see because their whole face lights up, and then they hug you, and it's so cute

they've even given a couple to chiron and mr. d, and they actually wear them

chiron doesn't wear them as often, because he likes looking formal sometimes

but mr. d wears them all the times

it's so funny, because mr. d claims that the campers are the bane of his existence, they're so annoying, but if an aphrodite kid hands him a friendship bracelet, he looks at it for a second, nods his head, and then slips it on his wrist to add to his collection

the collection is getting a little bit too big for his one hand, so he's started putting them on his other wrist

everytime this happens, the aphrodite kid that gave him the bracelet makes fun of him for being a softie, but he just rolls his eyes and goes back to sipping his coke while watching the lake

aphrodite kids are also super touchy

they honestly have all the love languages, but their big one is physical affection

they LOVE hugs

they LOVE holding hands

they LOVE kissing

obviously the kissing is only in a romantic aspect, but you get it

if you're friends with an aphrodite kid, they're going to hug you all the freaking time

they just love showing their love for you by squeezing the air out of you!

aphrodite kids will hold hands with you platonically as well

obviously, if this makes you uncomfortable and you don't want to hold hands and/or hug, they'll respect that, but they kinda won't think to ask you if that makes sense

they'll never be like "are you okay if i hug you?"

but if you ever tell them politely that you don't want to be hugged, they won't hug you anymore

aphrodite kids are also crazy passionate

about literally everything

when they have a passion for something, they have a passion for it

like, they will dedicate their whole heart and soul to something because they love it

they just have a lot of love in their hearts that needs to go somewhere

another random thing: aphrodite children were born to be fangirls

(and boys but you know)

they all have a celebrity crush that they are obsessed with and will like dedicate their life to watching edits of

(if i was a child of aphrodite, it would be dior goodjohn)

(what am i talking about it already is)

they also have a love for art

like specifically art from the renaissance period, they LOVE that

they just can appreciate a really beautiful piece of artwork, because they see beauty in everything

there's a common misconception that aphrodite kids are mean and stuck up, and there definitely are mean and stuck up kids, but there's mean and stuck up kids from every cabin.

aphrodite kids are honestly some of the nicest and kindest and most loving people you'll ever come across

they do have a tendency to throw temper tantrums every once in a while, but not in the way that like a toddler throws a temper tantrum

like i said, they just have a lot of big emotions, and they don't always know what to do with them

aphrodite kids are also often overlooked in a battle sense

everyone thinks that just because they care about their appearance, they won't be good soldiers, but that is 100% NOT TRUE

aphrodite kids are amazing at fighting and battle, maybe not as good as others, but they are good and can hold their own

don't underestimate them, though, because if you do, they make it their mission to prove you wrong

also, when aphrodite kids set their mind to something, they make it happen

so if someone makes a comment about them not knowing how to use a sword... let's just say they'll show you they do

all in all, aphrodite kids are super fun to be around, and they're the kind of friend that you can depend on no matter what, so it's always good to have an aphrodite kid in your corner

#percy jackson #cabin headcanons #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson cabins #cabin hcs #pjo cabin hcs #headcanons #hcs #aphrodite #aphrodite cabin #cabin 10 #❛ xanasaurusrex ༉‧₊˚

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schrodinger-swriter · 2 months

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heyo, everytime i read your hazbin alphabet posts i find myself giggling and kicking my feet like a fool so i knew i had to request one haha!! youre requests say open so i assume that means for these too? if not, just do this whenever or if you feel like it, no pressure! anywho, could i have husk with the following letters?: A, E, H, L, P, R, X

i know there’s a lot, and i feel so bad but like i couldn’t decide XD i will definitely be sending in more in the future lol, tysm, i love your work!! ^^

E, H, L, R, and X for Husk

You can find A and P in this post, as well as some other letters for Husk!

I hope you enjoy, I think I'm slowly getting better at writing for this old man!

EMOTION:

A lot of the emotion Husk shows tends to be.... grouchiness. He has his moments where he can display satisfaction. Sometimes he might even offer a chuckle or a smile here and there. He's reserved, and although you get to see this softer side of him that he hides from most others, it's still.. a little blunt, a little apathetic. That's just Husk for you.

HARSH:

Speaking of blunt, Husk is quick to tell you how he sees it. It doesn't matter if it's something you want to hear, because in his eyes it's just the truth. This can lead to some bickering between the two of you; you wanting Husk to be a little more gentler when bringing up issues, and him wanting you to just accept when things get nasty. He won't apologize for saying what he did, but he will apologize in his own way for being too harsh if it's noticeably weighing you down. This man runs off of tough love, and sometimes that's not for everyone.

LOVE LANGUAGE:

Acts of service make him feel important to you, mix in some physical touch and baby he's hooked on you. Massages are obviously a big one for him. Cat traits aside.. his back, neck, and shoulders can get rather stiff if he's been working all day at the bar.

He shows that he loves you through actions rather than words. He doesn't say those three words often, he thinks it waters down the meaning.. but that's doesn't mean he feels for you any less. You know you've fully won him over when he offers to do something for you.

RISK:

He's a gambler, it's kind of in the description that he's willing to risk it all. Yes, he does have his limits.. We don't know how much of his power he's retained since he's stopped being an overlord. But I don't think he would call it quits, at least not totally. He's not stupid, if he needs to get back up to help get you out of a sticky situation then he's going to swallow his broken pride and do that.

X-RAY:

He's the wise old bartender, of course he can read you like an open book. No matter how hard you try to hide something from him, he's going to find out sooner or later. At the very least, he's going to notice that something is off about you. While he might not match your energy, he's not about to break your spirit if you're excited about something.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #husk x you #husker imagine #husker x reader #husk x reader #husk imagine

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howtofightwrite · 4 days

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If a character can manipulate points of gravity (up becomes down, left is down, right is down for yhe duration of the scene) and essentially be a spiderman without the spider webs by getting to run up buildings, and essentially be fighting in a more 3-d space...anything worth commenting on? I think what I'm trying to ask is what should one take into account when it's possible to have fight scenes in three dimensional ways. I recall that you wrote a post about how sea battles would technically look nothing like land battles considering the environmental difference of enemies coming at *all* directions.

That's not, really, “all directions.” For one thing, they don't have to worry about your character phasing through solid objects. It's also not going to be as effective as the web shooters for avoiding fire.

One of the quirks of Spiderman is that he doesn't, and really can't, travel in a straight line. He travels in a series of arcs, and while those arcs are predictable, it's much harder to lead your shots when he can jerk away in a different direction with almost no warning.

This is in contrast to characters with gravity manipulation based flight, who tend to travel in straight lines.

The issue with a battle in the sea comes from this basic concept. If you're a mile underwater in the Pacific, it is quite likely that there is another four miles of water below you, with the nearest land thousands of miles away. There is no cover.

Somewhat obviously, an urban environment offers a lot more cover. Your character can come in around buildings, drop from above.

What's significantly more disturbing is the prospect of your character being able to alter gravity for others. Causing someone to “fall” away into traffic or the sky is probably far more horrifying than the idea that they could run up a wall. Though, I suppose it's important to never underestimate the sheer pants shitting terror one can inflict by crab-walking across the ceiling towards your preferred prey.

Of course if you're manipulating gravity, then it stands to reason you may be able to add or subtract the gravity. It's one thing to sneak up on a mobster and propel him into the sky at 9.8m/s2. It's another thing to casually create a small gravity well inside his brain and crush his skull. Or, an anti-gravity spike and explode him like a forgotten microwave burrito.

It should go without saying by this point, but this power set can get really messy.

It's also worth remembering, this is one of those power sets that are just as dangerous to the user as their foes. Hopping from one building to another while flicking gravity mid flight could very easily result in broken bones and a really unpleasant landing. Unless they also have some pretty significant kinetic resistances, this is probably not something they'd want to use as a travel power (unless they're carefully tuning it to create fight.) Otherwise, inertia is their greatest foe.

To be honest, wall climbing is a slightly strange choice for a primary travel power. Yes, it is a viable choice, but using those same powers to take flight is going to be much less risky.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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goldenrodchef · 2 months

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So, you're turning into a Pokemon

A guide by Gen Taranz

This is a guide for people who are turning into, are going to turn into, or have already turned into Pokemon. I'm of the third category, and I've been stuck like this for almost a year now. So, uh. I think I might be able to give some pretty good advice. The guide itself is below the cut.

This is part 1 of...I'm not sure yet. I currently have 10 sections planned, but I might add more if need be.

Section 1: How do I know it's happening to me?

Generally, if your skin suddenly starts turning an odd color like blue, you're feeling really itchy and fuzzy all over, or you're feeling odd bumps in weird places (like on your head or tailbone), I'm sorry to say, but you're probably turning into a Pokemon.

Now, that's not always going to be the case. But that's the best I got for if you're being turned into a Pokemon non-instantly, or sleebied.

You might not experience any of these. You might just go to bed one day, and wake up as a Pokemon. That's what happened for me, after all. If that's what happened, feel free to skip section 8 of this guide.

Section 2: Fur, scales, and feathers

These are not fun to have, in my experience. I only have fur and scales, but I'll do my best to talk about feathers too.

Fur is going to need to be groomed a lot. Your tongue might be your best bet here, many furry Pokemon have tongues built for grooming their fur. Of course, obviously you might not want to do that, so it's a good idea to invest in a good furbrush that you can hold, or ask a trusted person to hold.

Scales are less of a pain to take care of, and are the most like skin out of these three things, but are still very weird. My scales are a bit squishy, which is. Something.

We don't know of many feathered eebies yet, but from what I've heard, they're a pain to take care of. There's the whole preening process that you'll have to start doing, not to mention molting.

Speaking of, let's talk about shedding. For me, shedding happens once every two months or so, and involves my tail scales getting progressively itchier and itchier until they peel off and reveal a new layer. For others, it might involve your fur getting really itchy as your summer or winter coat grows in, or something similar happening with feathers.

For fur or feather shedding, having a rough surface to rub your body against helps a lot with helping get fur loose. If you have a scaly friend, ask them if you can rub against them to help shed your fur.

For scale shedding, rough surfaces also help, but warm baths also help in loosening that top layer of scales. They also feel really good if you're a water-type.

Section 3: Paws, wings, talons, and tails

I'm sorry to say this, but your hands are likely going to drastically change. You'll probably lose most of their dexterity, and it'll be much more difficult to do stuff with them.

If your hands are changing or have changed into paws...there's not much to do. You'll just have to find other ways to do things. My little brother, Cobalt the Giratina eeby, uses xyr tail to do most stuff now, which might be a viable option for those with flexible tails, but I'll get to those in a bit.

You might keep your thumbs, or you might not. I'm sorry. I wish I could help more. All I can really do is recommend using styluses, and looking into disability aids.

For those of you that are becoming avian Pokemon, you're likely going to have your hands become wings. And for those of you becoming dragon-types, you might grow wings from scratch.

These are definitely no replacement for hands, but you can fly now, at least?

What is a replacement for hands, though, is talons. Talons, at least from what I've heard, are pretty dexterous, allowing you to do most things you could previously do with your hands! Though this will likely be a balancing act, since you also use these to stand.

And now, tails. I...honestly don't really know what to say here, since Pokemon have so many different varieties of tails. My cousin, Jayden the Brionne eeby, has a tail instead of legs. My best friend, Lily the Buizel eeby, has two tails that she can spin. And myself, I have a Sobble tail that's prehensile. It really depends on what species you end up as.

One thing I've consistently noticed, though, is that tails are very easy to lose track of, especially if they're the waggy sort. It's extremely easy to knock stuff over with your tail if you're not paying close attention to it. So...pay attention to it.

Also try not to sit on your tail. That really hurts.

And that's part 1 of this! I hope that this helps any eebies and sleebies who are struggling with their bodies.

#pkmn irl #gen

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anarchy-and-piglins · 1 month

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alternatively, Techno having nowhere else to go so he tries to sneak into a hybrid community. He knows he'll get kicked out at best if they know he's human. So, he disguises himself as a hybrid and prays it lasts long enough that he can get into a better position and escape before they figure out (or at least with minimal damage). Small problem: he intended to keep his head down the whole time, but actually a lot of them are super friendly and curious about the new comer. The closer he gets to them the more complicated and convoluted the lie becomes, because suddenly he cares less about avoiding notice and more about them liking him.

And it works, until one day, when Philza confronts him for being human. Techno scrambles for a lie, desperate to keep his friends, but can't think of one, falling silent as Philza accuses him of being a human spy trying to infiltrate the community. Panicking, Techno bolts, and suddenly all of his friends are hunting him down. No where is safe, not the air or water or nether. All of them are desperate to capture him, some furious for his deception, others terrified he's going to destroy their community.

And Techno...wasn't he already planning to ditch this place from day one? It's fine, right, this was part of the plan. For months he'd been fighting the impulse to show them his real self, and now he knows that instinct is correct. They didn't like Techno, only the guy he pretended to be. So why does it still hurt so much to leave? They despise him, don't they? And don't they have every right to?

Or, for the funny route, he thinks he's a master manipulator spiraling in a web of lies, but everyone has known since day one and think his sheer bravado is funny enough to keep him. Their little prods at the facade is because watching him fall silent for like 10 minutes to think up an absurd lie is really really funny.

OUGH, okay, okay, I'm picking up what you're throwing down (with some small adjustments for taste perhaps).

Techno is a human, but he's an outcast. He figures a good way to live in peace while also being somewhat protected is to live on the very outskirts of this hybrid commune he's discovered. Right on the edge, so he's technically within the border (and the safety it provides), a place barely any humans know about and those that do shy away from it because of The Crowfather's claim to those lands. Techno knows he won't get away with living there as a human, so he pretends to be a hybrid.

A bunny hybrid to be precise.

They're mostly humanoid-looking anyway, and Techno makes himself a convincing set of ears + tail. He dyes his hair pink. He builds a little cottagecore cabin and hopes that he can keep his head down. Obviously, this does not work as well as he'd hoped, since the commune members are curious and nosey and also super friendly and start worming their way into his heart. They also know bunnies normally live in big warrens with lots of other bunnies so they're worried Techno is lonely all the time and don't want that :( they're trying to help! They're trying to be good friends!

Techno tells them he has a leg injury, so that's why he can't jump as far as other bunny hybrids. He makes sure to never eat meat in front of them. He does everything he can to keep up the ruse.

Except sooner or later, something is going to happen to make it fall through. You could have somebody find out and confront him, but I'm also very partial to a dramatic reveal because he's saving/helping somebody else and him getting hurt in the process. Maybe somebody else is in danger and Techno's instinctive reaction reveals he's a human somehow? I'll workshop it.

Whichever the case, Techno is found out. And he panics. The commune members are shocked, they feel betrayed. A few of them might genuinely be a little pissed he was hiding this or accuse him of being a human spy. But most of them are just confused. Techno bolts, because he's scared they'll kill him or kick him out. They follow - partly out of worry (Techno did get hurt in whatever prompted the discovery), partly because they just want answers. Maybe one or two of them are angry and scared that he'll rat them out to the humans and would stop that at any cost.

Techno does not get away. He's hurt and exhausted and outnumbered and he's only human so he can't outrun a bunch of hybrids forever. I like the idea that one of the 'weaker' hybrid members catches up to him first (maybe Tommy or Tubbo) and Techno knows he can take them in a fight. He could defend himself, hurt them, and have that be an additional distraction that'll allow him to get away. But he can't bring himself to do that. Eventually he gets caught by them (maybe after getting hurt some more during the failed escape because I'm evil and enjoy Techno whump so much) but they don't kill him like Techno expects them to. They want to know why the fuck he lied to them in the first place.

And that's when it all gets revealed. How Techno was an outcast among his own kind. How badly they treated him (those scars he played off as being caused by hybrid hunters suddenly gain a whole new meaning for the commune members). How he only wanted to find a place he could be safe and he never intended for them all to care, for them to become friends with him, for his lies to become this serious. How he never expected himself to actually feel at home with them.

Obviously, this would lead to a happy ending. Some of the commune members probably forgive Techno almost instantly. A few of the others might be a bit peeved at him for a while because of the deceit, though they can kinda get why he lied in the first place. They say Techno can stay to heal and Techno accepts while fully expecting to be kicked out as soon as they know he won't drop dead out alone in the wild. Except by the time Techno is healed, basically everybody has already agreed they're fine with him staying :D

#asks #thoughts #technoblade

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melancholia-ennui · 1 month

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So the thing that I find fascinating about the ongoing debates around the "walrus vs fairy" poll is how much it reveals about the ways people reason and argue, and how those break down.

Like, on the one hand, I'm #teamwalrus, but the ways that some walrus voters argue about this poll are so hilariously disingenuous. "What if the 'fairy' is a gay man?" "What if it's Halloween?" "What if it's a medieval fae that just looks like some guy?" "What if I'm hallucinating?" - shut up shut up that's not the point and you goddamn know it. The question is only interesting at all if both the walrus and the fairy are instantly and equally recognisable as such. Otherwise you're just dodging the question. (As an aside, this is why I advocate for imagining the fairy as a kind of Tinkerbellish pixie creature, as this has all the desired instant recognisability and acts as a kind of opposite to the vastness of the walrus.)

On the other hand, a lot of fairy voters put forward the argument that "a fairy is impossible". But here's the thing: this represents a fundamental failure to adjust your beliefs under counterfactuals. If a fairy is knocking on your door, that fact in itself proves more or less definitionally that a fairy knocking on your door is not impossible in the possible world of the question, irrespective of your beliefs about the actual world, because it just happened.

And this is really where my walrus vote comes from, because the question was never "what is more probable (given your beliefs about the world", but "what would surprise you more".

If a fairy is knocking at my door, then yes, I have been fundamentally wrong in some assumption about what sort of things exist in the world - but otherwise, the fairy is behaving exactly as I would expect a fairy to behave, given what I have been told in fictional contexts about the behaviours of fairies. It would shake my world-view, force me to re-evaluate a lot of what I believe, but it wouldn't elicit surprise so much as confusion, self-doubt, and perhaps some existential dread.

By contrast, a walrus on my doorstep would be deeply surprising. There is not a single walrus in captivity in my country, so it must have come from the wild somehow. I do live by the sea, but I'm on a first floor flat with a locked door to the building, at the top of a hill, and on the other side of some flood defences relative to the water. While the walrus does not make me question any of my ontological beliefs, it does fundamentally undermine almost everything I believe about walruses, where they can be and what they do, which altogether will elicit much more surprise, emotionally, than a mere previously-thought-to-be-impossibility.

The issue with getting hung up on "but a fairy is impossible" is that to me it seems to function primarily as a kind of thought-terminating cliche. Because if there is a fairy knocking at your door, then obviously a fairy is not impossible, or else it wouldn't be knocking.

What I find interesting is how this really highlights how much people get emotionally invested once the category of "impossibility" is introduced - so much so that they extend that category across all possible worlds, even when the modal/counterfactual structure of the question clearly indicates that doing so undermines the entire premise of the question.

(Honestly, I could go on here about the ways in which the category of "impossible" circumscribing rational considerations impacts other areas of thought, especially politics, but this ramble has already gone on long enough and I don't want to derail it even more. Suffice to say that this seems to be a very general thought pattern, that once someone becomes invested in some sense in something being "impossible", this will, unless they are very careful, permanently colour every consideration they have about that something, often even over and above evidence to the contrary of this impossibility.)

#fairy vs walrus #walrus vs fairy #fairy walrus #walrus fairy #fairy vs walrus poll #walrus fairy poll #fairy walrus poll #walrus #fairy #philosophy #.txt #thoughts and musings

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eywathemother · 1 year

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Fish Lips Chapter 8

Ship: Aonung x Kiri's twin sister!Reader

Warnings: Language, bullying, gore, fighting, talk of war, injury and blood, slow burn, enemies to lovers (not really a warning just some people don't like that trope), death of (a) character(s), not proofread

Words: 2,817

Keys: (y/n) = your name,,(y/i/n) = your Ikran's name,, Neural Queue= the braid extension of a Na'vi's nervous system that allows them to link up to animals and Ewya,,(y/II/n) = your ilu's name,, Veysom = Spicy meat (lmfao),, (y/n/n) = your nickname),, Bold is English,, Italic is sign language,,Bold italics is when you're communicating with Kiri,,

Chapters; Introduction || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Spoilers for Avatar: The Way of Water A whole ass lot.

I'm sorry this is so late, I was planning on posting it way earlier in the week but I kept deleting the chapter cuz I hated it.

You yawned, bored out of your mind. You told Aonung you needed to resurface for air, but really just to take a breather from Aonung's constant teasing. Your ears flicked uncomfortably as you tried to get water out of them. You haven't even reached the hunting area yet, Aonung was taking his slow ass time getting you both there.

Aonung popped up next to you, wearing a big grin." Forest girl get enough air, yet?" He teased, cocking his head a bit and watching your face scrunch in annoyance. " I'm trying to get water out of my ear." You mumbled, flicking and rubbing your ear to try and get the water out.

You tilted your head a bit, feeling some of the water leave your ear." Tilit your head more." He pushed his hand against your head, pushing it down a bit more. You swatted his hand away and he rolled his eyes.

You did as he told you though and flicked your ear while shaking your head a bit. Finally, your hearing came back, and you smiled, less annoyed. You felt a hand wrap around your tail, and you turned around sharply. Aonung had your tail in his hand, inspecting it.

" What do you even use these tails for?" He asked and you grabbed your tail away from him and held it to your chest." It's to help balance and grip and stuff." You grumbled, pulling your tail back behind you." Kind of like how you guys use your slappers to help guide your swimming." You poked his cheek, this time he swatted your hand away.

" Slappers??" He questioned; an amused smile grew on his face." One of your friends used it to slap my brother in the face." You chuckled, honestly that fight was quite humorous to you now." You probably missed it since you were too busy getting your ass beat."

You laughed at him, and he pushed you off your ilu. You could hear his laughter from below the water. Breaching the surface you splashed water at him, hitting his face." Jackass." You hissed, hopping back on your ilu.

" Are we gonna get going or just continue to sit here?" You asked, readjusting your position a bit." Someone's in a hurry. Do you not enjoy my company?" He stuck his bottom lip out, pretending to be upset. " No, I do not." You spoke with a blank stare, obviously joking. At least to you, but Aonung seemed to take this seriously. He looked a bit hurt and you laughed at him.

" I'm just joking you big baby." You poked your elbow at him, and he looked at you annoyed." Besides, isn't that your dream? To be free of the duty to watch the Sully kids?" You teased him with a grin. He scoffed." Yeah, well it's too late for that..now I'm stuck with you guys." He chaffed, then he gestured outward towards the waters." Ready?"

Soon you were headed off again, followed by more of Aonung's silent teasing. The spot wasn't far from where you took a small breather break, but it was far enough from shore that your Marui wasn't in view anymore.

When you came back up for air you stopped next to Aonung." We won't be going outside the reef, right?" You side-eyed him." I don't want you abandoning me." You sent him a teasing look, but your voice had a hint of seriousness to it.

" I would never do that." He started; he flicked your shoulder." I don't want to get in trouble again because of a Sully." You smirked." Oh, it'll happen again as long as you hang around Lo'ak."

" We're here." He stated, ignoring your comment about your littlest brother. He motioned for you to follow him as he got off his ilu and dived into the water. You followed, as fast you could. Of course, you were a bit slower than him, but you still managed to be that fastest out of your siblings.

He didn't seem as annoyed to wait a bit by the coral below as you swam to catch up to him. 'You okay on air?' He signed and you rolled your eyes.' Yes, we haven't even been down here long.' He gave you a look, annoyance on his face.' You're the one who is always going up forest girl.'

You wanted to smack him hard, he was starting to piss you off. You both turned to the fish that were swimming unknowingly near you both. You hid a bit more behind Aonung, scared you would scare off the fish. Your skin was a much more prominent blue, and you took that into consideration when hunting. So, you often placed yourself in a very well-hidden spot or behind the Metkayinan you were hunting with.

Aonung seemed annoyed by this and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you closer.' How are you supposed to hunt hiding like that.' He moved a bit to place you in front, gesturing you to go first. You squinted at him, still not fully trusting him because of what Lo'ak told you.

' Why don't you go first.' You signed to him, nudging him to move in front of you.' I'm not going to leave you.' he aggressively signed back, and you raised your brows at him, not fully believing him. Of course, it was a bit hypocritical considering you took him out here to ditch him.

'Besides, I know you want to ditch me. That's why you're upfront right now.' He smirked, you just blinked at him.' If you do and come back without me, you'll be in serious trouble you know.'

You knew that, in fact you weren't really afraid of that. You thought a bit more, if you wanted to deal with the consequences and soon shrugged.' I'm practically always in trouble anyways.' You turned back to the fish, ears up and focusing on the fish.

You shot a fish, swimming over and taking it in your hands. You sent a small thank you in your head and pulled the arrow out of it. You planned on catching at least three. You had a new plan, a plan to make the Omaticayan infamous spicy bowl. Your favorite dish and the spiciest recipe of your clan.

You would gift it to Aonung and watch him eat it. Knowing him he wouldn't stop eating it as long as you kept teasing him and calling him a baby. A way to get back at him in some way for his bullying but to also avoid trouble.

You'd have to make due with the ingredients, as some of what you need isn't in the area. You were decent in cooking, your mother always demanding you help her cook, so you were at least ninety percent positive of your skills to replace some of the ingredients.

After a bit of hunting, you resurfaced with Aonung, you moved some of the hair out of your face as you hopped onto your ilu's back." That was decent." You broke the silence, and he hummed in agreement.

He was relatively quiet your way back as well, and you wondered what he was thinking.

Your plan to ditch him was long forgotten, if you were being honest, you were never going to actually leave him by himself. You liked his company more than you would care to admit and you actually enjoyed some of his teasing.

Your sister Kiri knew this, both of you knew everything about each other. You didn't have to verbally speak to each other about it either, you guys were just always able to know what the other was going to say. Not mind reading, it was just something that only you and Kiri had, like a connection to each other.

So, you couldn't hide that from her, but nobody else knew because you were stubborn and refused to admit any positive feelings for Aonung.

When you got back after the long and silent-a bit awkward- ride back, you ran to your mother." Mama, I got some fish. Can we make Veysom?" You squatted next to her after your father took the fish to look at them. You managed to catch five fish, a little more than you originally planned but you figured you'd make a separate one for Rotxo, Tsireya, and Aonung.

" Of course, ma (y/n), as long as you find substitutes and seasoning for it." She smiled at you, shooing you away." You are all wet, go dry off and get me the ingredients. We will clean and prepare the fish, take Tuk and Kiri with you."

You had seen Kiri and Tuk on the way to your Marui playing in the shallow water, so you knew where to find them. Veysom required a bit more work, all the bones of the animal must be removed. It was only fair that if they cleaned to meat of the fish you would get the ingredients.

You zigzagged past people in the walkway towards the stairs to the sandy beach. Jogging to your sisters you placed a hand on Tuk's head.

" What's up!" You smiled down at the youngest Sully and she gave you a bright smile in return." (y/n/n), we're trying to build a sandcastle!" She waved towards the pile of sand, that was more like a deformed square than a castle." I..see, well it's very lovely." You gave your best supportive smile and two thumbs up.

Tuk frowned." I know it's shit, you can say it." You grinned and Kiri's eyes went wide." Tuktirey!" She scolded and Tuk ears went back a bit." Oops." You just laughed, earning a smack on the leg from your twin.

" Oh, (y/n) you're back!" You turned your head to see Tsireya running towards you, and you waved at her." Hey, I was just about to leave with my sister to get ingredients for dinner. Want to join?" You asked her as she stopped next to you with her kind smile." Okay!"

" What are we having?" Kiri answered, standing up from her spot and placing herself next to you." Veysom!" You smiled mischievously and she squinted her eyes at you." Oo, yay!" Tuk cheered and grabbed your hand." Okay, let's go!"

Tuk pulled you and began walking, she didn't know where she was going but you tugged her hand a bit to guide her." What is Veysom?" Tsireya asked, Kiri and her falling behind you.

" It's usually a spicy meat dish made from Sturmbeest or Hexapede." Kiri said to her, and you turned around walking backwards while facing them." We're gonna use fish this time."

For the rest of the way it was small talk, Tuk talking the most about her findings and Tsireya answering her questions about the plants she had found.

While walking back Tuk and Tsireya fell a bit behind, and Kiri leaned a bit closer to whisper to you." You're really petty sometimes you know." She side-eyed you as you shrugged, readjusted the ingredients in your hands." Maybe you're just too nice." She rolled her eyes.' Aonung apologized' You rolled your eyes in response.' It was a lame apology.'

" Whatever." She grumbled. You and Kiri might be twins, but your relationship was much like an aunt begrudgingly watching their annoying niece. She thought of you as too reckless and to you she was too cautious. You were close with her, she was like the other part of your soul, but your personalities constantly clashed with each other.

Once you reached the stairs to the clusters of Marui's Tsireya left towards her house." I think this will be able to replace-" Your left foot got caught in-between the holes of the ropes that made up the walkway. You instinctively put your hands out to brace your fall, dropping the ingredients in your hand into the water.

" Goddammit!" You scowled at the water below you." Are you okay?" Kiri asked and Tuk came over to help you up with her free hand." It's okay, we can just go back and get some more!" Tuk smiled at you, and you shook your head.

" I'll go, you go take what you have to mother." You gave a small smile, trying not to aim your annoyance at Tuk." Be careful." Kiri gave a small wave behind her head as her and Tuk walked back to your families Marui.

You huffed annoyed, cursing at the stupid flooring." Fucking rope." You mumbled to yourself as you adjusted your arm cuff." That was quite the show." Aonung's voice rung out into the relatively quiet area. You jumped a bit, before turning around and glaring at the boy." You scared the shit out of me!" You hissed and he only laughed. Turning your back to him you began to descend the stairs you had just come up from.

" Where are you going?" He asked, following you closely behind." To get the ingredients I dropped in the water." You answered, rubbing your toes in the sand." What are you making?" He asked, standing closer to you than you would've liked.

" Veysom, you want to try?" You gave him a sly smile, which he happily returned." I'd love to. What's this ingredient you're looking for?" He questioned.

" Spartan leaves and Hermit bud seeds. As well as this purple small seed that Tsireya calls I'Puwi." Aonung's ears perked up." I love I'Puwi." You cocked your head a bit at his response." Okay then, you can help me gather."

" Fine bossy." He grumbled under his breath, and you whipped your head towards him. You pinched his shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt him." Watch your mouth, fish lips." You scowled at him, and he rolled his eyes.

Once you had gathered what you needed again, you made your way back to your Marui. Aonung followed, watching in amusement as you took cautious steps over the holes in the walkway. You heard him laugh at you and your ears heated in embarrassment." What are you laughing at!" You snapped at him, and he raised his hands in the air.

" You." He snickered, and you stopped, turning around to look at him." Go home." You furrowed your eyebrows and he shrugged." Nah, I'm good." You scoffed, turning back to the front and stomping towards your home.

When you got there Aonung handed you the I'Puwi seeds and went over to Neteyam who was helping your father finish deboning the fish meat.

" (y/n), come help." Neytiri grabbed your arm, breaking your stare at Aonung." What needs to be done?" You squatted next to your mother and set the ingredients in your hands next to the others. " You make the sauce." She demanded and you held in the urge to scoff.

When it was finally finished it was time for dinner, you grabbed the food and left with your siblings to the campfire. You placed yourself next to Neteyam, Tsireya, Rotxo, and Aonung came into view." So, where's this Veysom?" Aonung asked, squatting next to you. Tsireya placed herself next to Kiri and she handed her a plate. Rotxo sat next to Aonung, who took a piece off your plate.

You watch him eat it, he seemed to be enjoying it until he started coughing after he finished swallowing it."...wow, spicy." He commented and Rotxo laughed at him, you pushed your plate towards Rotxo." Try?" You grinned at him, and he took a decent chunk of the sauce covered fish and placed it into his mouth.

He blinked a bit, clearing his throat a bit." Oh yeah, good and spicy." He agreed with Aonung who took a bit more off your plate. It was a good thing you grabbed extra because they were just diving right into it.

You took some Bladder Polyps on the side and dipped it in the sauce around the fish." Can't handle a bit of spice?" Lo'ak teased as he and Neteyam snickered to each other. Tsireya took a smaller taste from the plate Kiri had given her and shook her head." Oh, no thank you." She coughed and Kiri patted her back.

Aonung and Rotxo seemed to be struggling but they continued to eat the fish off your plate as you ate the Bladder Polyps on the side. You handed one to Aonung who took it and ate it. His eyes watering but he continued to eat it." This is really good..just spicy." He sniffed and you handed him the plate, you motioned for Kiri to hand you the other plate and you began to eat that one.

The rest of the night you sat next to Aonung, even after your siblings had left and continued to talk until Ronal called for Aonung. "Goodnight, (y/n)." He gave a small smile and wave." Goodnight." You responded, using the sweetest tone you had ever used towards Aonung. You got up, cleaning your area before heading off to bed.

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