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#this show is sooo much better than i was expecting it to be?????
thegnomelord · 2 days
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You ever hear the gross stories about people putting peanut butter on their junk and having a dog lick it off? This sounds bad but stay with me here, imagine it's marakov doing this with hound. Like it's a humiliation thing to break hound down or something and drive it into his head that he's no better than an actual dog. Marakov starving hound for awhile so he's famished and then pulling the peanut butter out. If hound wants to eat then the only food he can have will be the peanut butter he'll have to lick off marakovs cock.
Oh fuck that is disgusting and SOOO something Makarov would do. So here's a lil ficlet cause you got my brain going Brrrr
CW:NSFW, MDNI, Makarov x male reader, blowjob, peanutbutter food sex, toxic relationship, dom/sub dub-con, rough and quick, I дворняга - mongrel, mutt есть - eat, нет - no.
Rough fingers grip your jaw until it hurts, Makarov's thumb pressing down on your tongue to keep it flush with the bottom of your mouth. Drool and a bit of blood run down your chin, a small puddle already forming between your folded knees. The fingers on of his other hand wiggle your canine, uncaring of how your jaw trembles in an attempt not to bite him.
"Poor дворняга," Makarov chuckles, "Not liking your new teeth?"
Your 'new' teeth hurt like hell and that's saying something, gums around them still raw and irritated, knives stabbing at your entire jaw and down your throat whenever he wiggles the tooth even slightly. But you can't show that, don't bite the hand that feeds. So you swallow the sound of pain bubbling in your chest and shake your head as much as he allows you to do so.
You can see his smirk past the tears blurring your vision. "Good dog." He chuckles, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pat your head. "You must be hungry."
You are. Starving. You can't remember the last time you've been fed, probably before Makarov had your canines ripped from your mouth and replaced with metal, but the constant pain buzzing in your body makes it hard to keep track as the days blur together. You wordlessly nod your head, knowing better than to speak when he hasn't given you permission yet (you doubt you even could with how much your jaw hurts.)
Makarov leans back on your bunk, letting go of your jaw to fiddle with the jar of peanut butter. Unscrewing the lid he dips his pointer finder in and scoops up a big dollop of it. He holds it out for you, resting the back of his finger on your tongue. "Есть." He orders, tone leaving no room for arguing and you're quick to close your lips around his finger, tongue moving to lick it clean and trying to avoid nudging your teeth.
You've always hated the stuff since Price got you to try some when you were in America, the taste and texture making your skin crawl, but right now it may as well be ichor of the gods. Your stomach rumbles at finally being able to devour something, even if it's just a small scoop of peanut butter.
You open your mouth when you're done, spit clinging to Makarov's finger, and try your best to make a small whine. "Good, finally learning." He hums and sets the jaw down, unbuckling his belt.
Your heart stutters and drops to your stomach as you watch Makarov fish his half hard cock from his boxers, only needing a few strokes to get him fully erect. Makarov laughs at the face you make when he scoops up a good amount of the peanut butter and uses it like lube on his cock.
"Oh, did you think you would just get to eat?" He snorts, holding the base of his cock, "Нет, нет, нет you dumb mutt." He spreads his legs wider, patting his thigh. "You'll have to work for it, now есть."
You hesitate, some meager part of your pride absolutely unwilling, your stomach telling you to forget about that. Makarov waits, judgmental eyes locked on you, easily able to see the turmoil swirling in your eyes. He knows how to be patient, while he usually wouldn't tolerate disobedience, he knows he can't set up a hunting dog for failure and expect success so soon into your training.
His efforts bear fruit and you slowly shuffle forward on your knees. Even starved as you are, the wide span of your shoulders still forces his legs to spread wider. You hesitate some more, looking past his cock up at him, wondering if he really wants you to do this; is this a reward or just another way to tear you down?
"Do not make me repeat myself." He says, voice even and cool, but you're still perceptive enough to notice the sharp edge of danger in his tone, like a knife pressed into your throat.
Tentatively you lean in, fists clenching against your thighs as your tongue lolls out to hesitantly lick at his shaft. He doesn't rush you, doesn't degrade you, but his hand does settle on the back of your skull. You freeze, but he only hums, "Good dog." His hips twitch until his shaft bumps against your nose.
The hand on your head keeps you from pulling away, and your hunger soon wins out so you give a few experimental kitten licks. You start at the bottom, still uneasy about this, your tongue licking across his knuckles. Makarov purrs something in Russian you're not familiar with, his tone not sweet enough to make you think it's an insult, so you slowly continue up his shaft.
His precum mixes with the peanut butter, giving it a saltier tang that makes disgust curl in your stomach, humiliation making your face burn. Even your mind mocks you; Price's voice echoes somewhere in your ears "This is why we left you, you were just waiting for a chance to be a terrorist's whore." but that voice slowly gets quieter as Makarov's hand pets your head, making thinking about anything but the creamy peanut butter on your tongue difficult.
"Good dog, doing so well for me." Makarov hums, a pleased sound escaping his chest. The pleasure your mouth brings is miniscule compared to the sight of you - on your knees, eyes slowly closing as your malleable mind settles into static, drool smeared lips wrapping around his head to suck all the food your tongue missed - oh it's something else. He's seen many powerful men brought down to their knees, but nothing has ever made him harder than you right now.
You pop off his cockhead, chest frantically moving to draw breath, unfocused eyes staring at his drooling head before you look up. "Now wasn't that a good treat?" He asks, receiving your mumble in return, using your spaced out mind to smear more peanut butter on his head. "But you missed a spot. Go on, есть."
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airenyah · 1 year
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hello today's ep of midnight museum????? included some of my favorite things?????
it had
nanon korapat
VIEW. VIEW BENYAPA MY LOVE
gun acting with himself
thank you????? what did i do to deserve this blessing??????
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yippee-optimistically · 10 months
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I made a new computer bg for myself :D ummm kind of the first big dive into more complete lighting stuff idk. I've been super intimidated by it so ive never studied it and just did whatever looked good enough for me. i gotta get on that soon though
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painty! based off a random iii 8 confessional
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spatio-rift · 2 months
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im exhausted
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navree · 1 year
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god grant me the serenity not to vaguepost about a reply to a post about the memery of the ides of march
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ohimsummer · 8 days
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GIRL, I NEED A TASTE ft. PUPPYBOY! SATORU
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— minors dni, needy + lovesick + puppyboy! satoru x fem! reader, tít sucking, subby! satoru, humping (dryhumping??), breeding + creampie mentions
⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i went a little overboard writing this <//3 strongest ‘puppy-dog eyes’ user everyone
wc 1.4k
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you give puppyboy! satoru an inch, and he will take several miles.
he’s ready to pounce on you 24/7: when you wake up, when you return home, when you’re fresh out of the shower, when you come back from a 5 minute bathroom break during movie night. it’s insane the way, if it were up to him, your pussy would never know peace.
in satoru’s “defense”, he can’t help wanting to stuff you full of himself all the time. he loves you, he’s in love with you and, in his eyes, what better way to show it than the overwhelming amounts of euphoria he could put you both through? satoru loves to give, give, give to you; his heart, his attention, his affections, and his cum at the end of it all.
you suppose his reasoning is understandable, more so from satoru’s point of view, but fucking every minute of every day isn’t sustainable—it’s only fair you tell him ‘no’ sometimes. and that’s when satoru brings out the theatrics: whining, crying, whimpering and complaining about how he’s “sooo harddd” and he’ll “be super quick”. fluttering snowy white lashes to beg with those woeful, blue, puppy-dog eyes, glistening with tears that he seems to be able to summon on a dime.
satoru flashes you the cutest pout as he presses himself up against you, grinding his bulge against your ass as he nuzzles and nips at your cheek. slow, impatient sways of a fluffy tail, the perk of those twitching, adorable ears whenever you cast him even a glance. satoru whispers a hopeful “pretty pretty please…just once?” as he licks at the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps from your neck to spine.
it doesn’t matter, really. he can do it all for as long as his heart desires, because in the end…
…it’ll get satoru exactly what he wants every time.
the movie you put on isn’t nearly as immersive as you’d hoped. and even if it was, satoru keeps pulling your attention away with every nip and lick to your thighs.
“toru.”, you deadpan, and he instantly weaponizes those wide, doe-like eyes of his. paired with a slight wag of his tail, a friendly gesture which he aims to placate with, and satoru has easily dodged your annoyance once more.
you brush off his bad habit with a sigh before your attention returns to the screen in front of you. and then, not even five minutes later, the sharp poke of his fangs sinks back into the fat of your thigh. it’s always steady and deliberate; satoru wants to see just how much you’ll allow before jabbing an irritated finger to his forehead in disdain. meanwhile, once he’s satisfied with the depth of his teeth, he sucks harshly at the skin, glancing between you and the newfound hickey now blooming. then he goes in again, quicker but that’s only because he’s expecting a sure-fire dose of your wrath this time.
“satoru—“
“look!” he interrupts, tail wagging eagerly. “bit ya in the shape of a heart, because i love you.” technically not a lie, but not the full truth, either.
and you’re so distracted with looking at satoru’s little sign of affection, which is indeed adorably heart-shaped, you forget altogether your reasoning for addressing him in the first place: to chide him again on biting you so hard—which is all part of his plan.
it takes no time before satoru has squeezed way more out of you than you meant to give. when you stopped warning him about the biting, he readjusted to “cuddle” you. his head is on your chest like always, hands on your hips, but they quickly dip underneath the hem of your shirt to knead at your waist. and then they’re slithering up further, grazing at your underboob before finally squeezing one of your breasts.
“satoru.” he cowers under the angry heat of your stare. “if i have to tell you one more time…”
his tongue darts out to lap at your exposed neck, causing you to wriggle at the needy gesture. “ ‘m sorry, they’re like my little stress balls. can I touch, please?”
and you shouldn’t have relented and said yes. of course you shouldn’t have, you knew that. if you agree to this, he knows now that you’ll agree to pretty much anything. but satoru stares at you with those dreamy eyes, gleaming with stars to whisk you away to a bad decision. it takes a single, pleading blink as he gives you a small squeeze, and you have fallen victim to his spell once again.
your shirt is pushed up hastily to expose your tits, leaving them subject to satoru’s merciless greed. he pinches, pulls, and tugs with both hands and mouth, sinking fangs into every inch of your breasts since he cannot stand to not see signs of himself on them. because he thinks you’re pretty, duh, but he thinks you’re prettier when your body is spotted up with the marks he loves to leave.
not long after, he’s shed you of your pants, tossed somewhere over the edge of the bed. what started off as a slow grind has turned to satoru’s bare cock humping your thigh, searing and sticky as he leaks a mess of precum all over your skin. just the sensation of it sends an aching rhythm of throbs to your core, your painfully empty hole sporadically fluttering around nothing.
in your mind—buried beneath thoughts of this dreadful movie and the excruciating desire to have satoru’s cock battering your insides—are the very last remnants of willpower you cling to. you can visualize clearly the smug look sure to grace his face if you whine a single plea about satoru fucking you. after all, you’re the one who was all ‘no sex right now, ‘toru’. if you can’t keep your word for even one night, you might be just as sex-crazed as he is.
there is a nonstop background noise of his tail thumping and sweeping against the bed. satoru’s wags haven’t let up since you gave your first yes, and only grow stronger with each new whimpered plea you yield to. they pick up with the pace of his thrusts, a beat to harmonize with the sinful song of his desperate whimpers right before gojo reaches another high—he lets loose a muffled cry into your chest, still pathetically humping your leg like a lovesick mutt as he gushes yet another pool of cum to coat your thighs and panties. after that, his wags ease up to a slow, easygoing thud, now overpowered by the raspy heaves of air he sucks into his lungs.
and it’s the same song and dance every time. satoru takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he’s ready for another round. from the corner of your eye, you notice those teary blues have locked on to you. he tests the waters, gradually rutting against you again, mouthing at your breasts to see if you’ll tell him ‘that’s enough, ‘toru’. he is pleased when the words never come, and his actions only grow bolder the longer you let it go on; he licks at your jawline, down your neck before placing a few nips here and there. tweaks your sore nipples between his thumb and index, plunging his dick harder and faster along your thigh for another repeat of the last few hours.
with each daring action over the course of the night, satoru has dragged you a little closer towards the edge with him. first it was pushing your top up, next, it was taking off your shorts. then, it was a bold move of pawing at your clothed pussy, which almost turned into his hand in your panties if you hadn’t pinched his ear and told him no. though, he could just as easily get you to let him anyway if he asks in that very sweet voice of his, the one he always uses when he longs for something from you.
“can I take off your panties?”, satoru finally asks, tilting his head to stare you right in the face.
you won’t meet his eye, and he knows you won’t. because both of you know if you do, he will quickly shred that last bit of self-control at the tips of your fingers. a single bat of his lashes and you’ll be nodding your head, raising your hips so he can tear away your underwear. and then it will only be a matter of time before satoru’s pinning you down to stuff his cock in your walls as deep as you can take. it’s all he wants, all he craves. but as long as you avoid looking into his alluring eyes, you may hold off satoru and his contagious desires for just a little longer.
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tagz: @blkkizzat @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @neptuneblue @staryukis ( HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LOGANNNNNN😼😼‼️‼️💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵)
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emphistic · 2 months
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Obsessed with your work frfr. Can I get a fic or anything you're comfortable with sukuna's friends coming over to his place and the reader sleeping in his bed or smth and him getting all protective and his friends teasing him. Thanks!
"You two are so annoying," Sukuna muttered into his mic, looking back at your calmly sleeping figure on his bed.
"Don't be such a party pooper, 'Kuna!" Gojo's laughter sounded through the pink-haired man's headset.
"I told you already, don't call me that."
"Aww, so your girlfriend can call you pet names but little ol' me can't? You're really showing your true colors here, man," Gojo feigned to cry.
"Could not care less," Sukuna rolled his eyes, his fingers swiftly clicking on the keyboard as he continued his game.
"I am to going to come over there and fuck you up."
"Satoru—" Geto tried to stop his white-haired friend.
"Try me. I'll kick your ass." Sukuna quickly retorted.
"Nah, I'd win."
A pinging sound was emitted through the Discord call as Gojo disconnected. Geto sighed, "Let's hope he's not actually going."
"Knowing him he's probably just going to rejoin the call. Give it a few minutes."
The few minutes were given and Gojo did not rejoin the call or the game lobby.
Sukuna drummed his fingers on his desk, clearly bored. "Damn, that idiot is really out of it today, huh. Died three games in a row to a bunch of newbies, and now thinks he can beat me in fight."
"I'll see if I can catch him midway, and drag him back," Geto suggested.
"Good luck with that," Sukuna chuckled.
Another ping sounded through Sukuna's headset as Geto left the call. The pink-haired man disconnected from the call as well, and sat up from his chair, slowly walking over towards you.
He admired your sleeping face, the fall and rise of your chest slightly hidden beneath your (his) sweater, the drool dribbling down your chin onto his pillow — which he didn't mind.
He gingerly brushed aside a strand of your hair so he could get an even better look at your face. Despite having been together for more than two years now, Sukuna still blushed at the thought and sight of you. Could you blame him though?
Sukuna slightly jumped at the sound of his doorbell ringing. He looked down at you to see if you had woken up from that but you only shifted a bit, unconsciously nuzzling your face into his palm, seeking his warmth.
What the hell? Was that dumbass actually being for real? Sukuna thought, as he reluctantly pulled away from you and walked out his room to go open the door.
This time, instead of the doorbell ringing, there was a pounding on the door.
"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" Sukuna quickly unlocked the door and, lo and behold, standing outside was a scene he was not expecting to see, like, ever.
Gojo, bent down with his hands on his knees, dripping sweat and huffing and puffing. Tufts of his white hair were everywhere, even more messed up than usual. Geto, who was leaning on the wall for support, was not looking much better than his friend.
"I'm sorry," Geto said, his chest heaving, "I tried to stop him, I swear."
Sukuna scrunched up his face, "You ran . . . all the way over here? From your building?"
"Uh huh, that's right," Gojo held out a thumbs up, still heavily panting. "Let me in, I'm going to beat your ass up now."
"No way in Hell, Satoru. And even if I did, you are in no condition to go toe to toe with me," Sukuna pointed to himself with his thumb at the word 'me'.
"C'mon, dude. I need a water, my throat is as dry as your game," Gojo continued to pursue.
"Yeah, my game is just sooo dry, huh? I'm literally the only one here with a girl on my arm."
"Bro, just let me in," Gojo pushed Sukuna aside, and stumbled into his apartment. Geto glanced at Sukuna with an apologetic look on his face, "My bad."
Sukuna sighed, mouthing, "Don't worry about it."
The three men settled in the kitchen. Gojo stuck his head in Sukuna's fridge and searched for a cold drink. Having finally fished one out, he stood back upright, leaning on the counter and drinking.
"So," the white-haired male said, between gulps, "where's the girl?"
"The girl?"
Gojo nodded, still drinking. "Uh huh. Where she at?"
"Sleeping." Sukuna gestured to the closed door at the other end of the apartment.
"How rude of her, the most amazing, handsomest man is in her home and she is sleeping?" Gojo placed his water bottle on the counter, and put a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.
"’Don't blame her. I would do the same," Geto joked, Sukuna let out a reverberating laugh.
Gojo rolled his eyes, before storming over to your room. Sukuna quickly moved to standing in front of the door, blocking Gojo from entering.
"Hmm, what's this? You have something to hide, Sukuna? Perhaps . . . drugs? Substances? Or maybe, another girl in your bed?" Gojo rubbed his chin with both his index and thumb simultaneously.
Sukuna scowled at Gojo, "You don't know shit. I do not have another girl in there."
Gojo raised a brow, "Then why would you not want me entering?"
"Because you would wake the girl up, obviously," Geto added, coming to Sukuna's defense.
Sukuna sighed, "Fine, you wanna see so bad? Be my guest." Sukuna turned around and twisted the knob, pushing the door open. He was the first to step in.
Gojo snickered, his eyes landing on your form, "Guess you don't have another girl in here."
"Will you quiet down? You're going to wake her up and she's going to kick you two out. You know she gets more cranky than anyone else," Sukuna whisper-shouted, not helping his cause.
"Tch, she would never kick me out. I'm a literal blessing to be near," everyone rolled their eyes at Gojo's remark.
At this, you rolled over in bed, opening your eyes to glare at the three men in your bedroom.
"I've been awake for the last two hours, you assholes. You guys are so loud that even when Sukuna is wearing headphones I can still hear Gojo screaming his head off. I mean, seriously, do you guys ever close your mouths? For, like, even a second."
The three men all switched their gazes between you, and each other. Geto was the only one sensible enough to apologize to you, before stepping out of the room and leaving you to continue glaring at Sukuna and Gojo, who were now both sweating buckets.
"Baby, I swear, I tried to stop them—"
"Don't 'baby' me," you glowered at your lover.
"Oooh, someone's in trouble," Gojo didn't even attempt to muffle his laughter.
"You: Gojo, get out. Sukuna, you can make your own dinner."
"Wha– babe, please, you're cooking is way—"
"Don't make me say it again."
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius
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jyoongim · 3 months
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Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough
Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!
Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned
The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.
Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.
”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”
Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.
You could see where Charlie got her flare from.
He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.
”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.
You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel” 
Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.
”The pleasure is all mine”
Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon 
“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.
He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.
Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.
Irritated and annoyed.
Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.
He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”
oh no. The lights flickered.
You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.
Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”
The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.
Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.
You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.
A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”
You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.
You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.
Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.
”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you
”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.
He seemed more interested in you.
”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor
you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention
”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”
You looked at him shocked.
The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass
He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.
His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.
Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.
”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you” 
Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away. 
Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.
You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.
”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.
Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.
———————————————————————————
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.
The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.
Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.
He was pissed.
His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.
He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.
He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.
“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.
He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.
“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress 
“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”
You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.
“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.
”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.
Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.
While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.
You were like his wife in a sense. 
Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.
You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.
And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?
Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?
You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.
Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.
You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.
You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.
A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead
”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.
You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.
But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.
He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.
He should be what plagues your thoughts.
You should crave him by the time he was done.
He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.
”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”
You mewled as you watch him transform.
”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.
”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”
You whimpered at his words.
”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.
you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.
He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down
”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”
Your cunt fluttered.
How else would….
His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you
”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face
”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”
Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.
Sinners couldn’t reproduce.
Right?
that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.
You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.
You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.
A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.
———————————————————————————
“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.
He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.
”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.
He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”
Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”
Alastor- 2
Lucifer- 0
2K notes · View notes
luveline · 8 months
Note
hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)
thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!
"I tried to call you!" 
Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him. 
He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress. 
"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?" 
When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders. 
"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!" 
"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?" 
"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too." 
"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?" 
"California, then Albuquerque." 
"Killing bad guys?" 
Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess. 
Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?" 
"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?" 
"They're just friends," JJ says. 
The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers. 
"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper. 
In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid." 
"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably. 
"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist." 
Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired." 
"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia." 
"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness. 
Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time." 
"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper. 
"I'm a special agent." 
"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?" 
Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you." 
You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent." 
Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word." 
2K notes · View notes
seraphdreams · 8 months
Text
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
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"TO SEE WHAT YOUR INSIDES LOOK LIKE." | GHOSTFACE!ARMIN ARLERT.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.6k
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, smut, modern au, mentions of murder / death / blood, fingering, armin’s a creep, symbolism, noncon/dubcon, insanity, manipulation, monomania, creampie, knives, stalking. mdni <3.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. armin’s worked hard to build up his perfect life, and he certainly wasn’t expecting for someone to rip that from under him. he’s obsessed — with a life that isn’t his.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! we are sooo back n in full swing for kinktober this year !! i’ll drop my masterlist here for all the prettie dolls to check out … please show this some love by reblogging / sharing, it’ll mean the absolute world 2 me !! kk, luv ya, bye ♡
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Armin Arlert. Age 23. Graduated from Shiganshina University.
Armin Arlert, starting his new life under a freshly installed roof that rivaled his dorm of the past four years and provided him with much needed privacy. Armin Arlert, with a degree in humanitarian affairs accompanied with a promising future ahead, it’s the life he deserved after the turbulent destruction that was his tragic past. He could start over now in high hopes of making a name for himself in this unfamiliar city. Nothing could stop him, or the unperturbed spout of elation percolating within.
Aside from optimism, though, he remained undoubtedly sure that the life he had curated for himself was one that no other could outclass. He was smart — spent his days in libraries, in his study room, reading about anything that satiated his appetite for enlightenment, and be that as it may, he wasn’t looking for a lover. His solace brought him far better pleasure than any person could possibly imagine.
He’d work, research, and then work some more, day in and day out. And the day of your meeting was no different.
He had decided to utilize the time he carved out of his restless schedule for a much needed re-read of his favorite book. Moments like these were significant to Armin; the pungent aroma of freshly brewed tea in his mug, luminescence dim in the apartment, and a faint timbre of violins that spilled from his speaker.
Moments like these were when he couldn’t keep track of how many hours had passed him by as he flipped page by page into whatever universe his books had drawn him into.
Rested against the kitchen counter with his novel in one hand and retrieving a sip from his beverage in the other, his eyes scanned the piece of literature. Every once and awhile, he’d shift his weight from his left hip to the right, or opt to sit on the cozy loveseat in his study. All without withdrawing his attention from his book.
Glasses low on the bridge of his nose, he gently pushed them up — Then it came. The sonority of his doorbell, jostling him out of his serene thoughts and the inquisitiveness that flowed through his veins soon after, urged his body to tread to the front door in search of the cause.
As his footfall led him closer to the handle of the door, he could make out a silhouette, seemingly of a woman. All inquisitions of who could be at his doorstep were fulfilled once he opened it and you stood, with a bright smile on your face.
Armin’s angelic features hidden underneath a veil of golden blond tresses accentuated his soft, azure-hued eyes. His face was one of few that aided you in comfort just upon first glance, which chased away the unease of the possibility that he could’ve been ill-tempered.
“Hi, I’m Y/N! I moved in next door,” You pointed your thumb in the direction beside you as if to signal which side of the building you’d be occupying. “I just thought I'd introduce myself,”
He matched your syrupy sweet beam with one of his own, the corners of his eyes turning upward in tandem as if they were smiling too. He held the door open slightly wider to catch a better glimpse of you. From your attire, he could discern that you weren’t much of a modest girl, but it’d be wrong of him to idly make assumptions. Especially when his choice of dress during the lax hours of the day were a white button-up, cashmere cardigan thrown atop, with a pair of tan slacks.
“Y/N?” He repeated, in a manner to affirm that he had heard correctly. “I’m Armin. It’s nice to meet you,”
He would’ve held his hand out for yours had it not been engaged by his book. You weren’t trying to pry, yet the cover of the story was lucid in your mind once you took notice. “Berenice? The Edgar Allan Poe novel?”
His eyes trailed to where your manicured nail was pointed. The rosy flush of his cheeks deepened while he rubbed away the discomfiture stirring at the back of his neck. Once again, he had mindlessly brought his book with him wherever he strode.
“Y-Yeah, It’s my favorite. Have you read it?”
“A few times,” You hummed, meeting his sheepish gaze. “It’s so jarring, right?”
Armin skimmed over your face before allowing himself to speak. “But there’s beauty in the madness,” His words trolled over in a more weighty tone than he had intended, an apologetic smile on his face once he caught wind.
“Or at least that’s how i interpret it,”
His outward timidity roused an endearing chuckle from you. “I truly don’t mean to bother you, though. If you need anything I'm on your right!” You retort with a vague inclination of haste.
Truth be told, Armin’s interest in you piqued with the mention of the Poe story. “Oh, you’re not a bother-”
His vocables fell short against your own when you waved him goodbye, and he mirrored your actions with cordiality in his eyes.
Maybe she’s just busy.
Ever since Armin’s first encounter with you, he had found himself taking a rather atypical interest in the relations of you. The first bout of instances being regular events of curiosity where he’d watch as the moving company aided you in getting your belongings settled; hauling in furniture and appliances, all while Armin remained under the guise of checking his mailbox. Over a short span of time, though, he found himself increasingly knowledgeable in the subject that was you.
You showered at 8:00pm. You ate dinner at 7:00pm. The alarm settled on your desk, a few feet beyond your bed would go off at 6:00am sharp, and he’d be up at that same dawning hour to anticipate your departure to work.
He knew these things. Of course, he did.
He memorized all of your schedules to calculate what you’d be doing throughout the day, and where.
His own work was slow for him during those days, and books didn’t seem to capture that spark of exhilaration like you did. For once, he felt enthralled by each day granting him an opportunity to analyze you further.
On another day, he’d built up enough confidence to observe you as you came home from work, once more, under the false assumption that he’d been checking his mail.
“Good afternoon.”
Armin’s voice registered within your being quickly, startling you out of your fast-paced strut to your door. “Oh, good afternoon!” Your footfall faltered until you reached a close. “Armin, was it?”
Over Armin’s time of stalking- no, studying you, he’d come to realize just how ethereal you were. It was as if the deities above handmade every feature on your face, curve of your body, lilt in your voice with the intention of making you one of their own — an angel.
He found you charming.
With a nod of his head, he braced himself to inch toward you. Not proximal enough to cause you discomfort, he wouldn’t want that, yet enough to signal his unwavering immersion. “Did you just come from work?”
It was otiose of him to ask the question seeing as he undeniably knew the answer. Judging from your business attire and pencil skirt just a little too short for any other establishment’s dress standards, he had assumed you worked a kushy job at an office firm. You evidently earned a heap of money, with him recalling the numerous occasions you’d come home with luxury shopping bags hanging off your arms, tied in with the fact that the suites he inhabited weren't exactly affordable for the average person.
You responded hospitably to his question, that same lovely smile poured over your features and seeping into his personage. “Mhm, and what about you? Your work?”
He was surprised at your need to pull the conversation along further, it was as if you were succoring to curate his plans, as if you could read his mind and pick out from a haystack that you were his only interest, you were his source of bliss. A serendipitous moment, indeed. He straightened himself up, clearing his throat. “Me? Oh, well I just help out at charities and organizations from time to time,”
He’d be a fool to deny the set of wide eyes that were fixated upon his figure.
“For real? You must be a really good person then.” You responded with your hands clasped together and held against your chest, pupils of your eyes glittered in a sense of unshakable admiration.
As the conversation went on, you had begun to synonimize your neighbor with the fresh, and comforting feeling of congeniality. It helped that he was easy to converse with, seeming as he’d always been listening while keeping eye contact and rewiring his queries in a way that deemed you the main focus, and he, a vessel for your words to absorb within.
For Armin, he enjoyed getting to know you. You were perfect, in all the best ways.
And soon enough, through an exhausting series of prying inquiries, he’d piece together that your perfection wasn’t hulled along by determination or strong will, but by God’s good grace. He’d come to register that you didn’t have to struggle like he did to reach the triumphant point in life for which he stood. You were born that way, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and just the right kiss-ass people in your life to keep you that way. A spoiled fucking brat.
What had been the rationale behind his suffering? The years in which he’d been bullied repeatedly in public schools, had acquaintances that had only cared about him for their personal gain, and parents so utterly vapid that they’d give up their only child if it meant they could continue working towards an unattainable goal?
Fueled by a sense of jealousy, he waned your nepotism a hindrance. You were merely a telescope that he wanted so badly to see into.
For Armin was obsessed with a life that wasn’t his.
Meticulously, he had spent his time after that hidden away within his flat. Armin didn’t care to know anything more about you, he didn’t care to see your face, and he surely didn’t care for you.
When he stumbled across an unkempt, unpacked box in his room with the label of “Uni 2019,” written on the side in thick, inky letters, his concern led him to relive those memories upon removing the cardboard lid.
In it, there were polaroid photos, compact trophies he’d won from participating in school events, courtesy of his STEM minor, and a dark piece of fabric that caught his eye more than anything.
He recalled his first year of college where his two closest friends, Eren and Mikasa, dragged him out of their stuffy shared dorm and onto one of the first parties held by the school’s fraternity house during the fall semester.
“Armin, you look ridiculous,”
Mikasa said as she stomped away in her leather boots, leading the way for the two men accompanying her to follow her off-campus.
She was dressed in homage to Misa Amane from her favorite anime, although the style of dress aided no significance since it was hauntingly similar to her everyday wardrobe.
Eren was intended to show up as “Light” but he insisted on wearing something he deemed appealing, his plan was to get initiated by the end of the night, anyhow. He wore a deep black cloak, dark ripped jeans and had his hair tied aimlessly into his warped perception of a bun, with the mask of a ghost facing sideways on his head to allow for him to see.
Ghostface. Scream (1996).
Armin allowed himself to be pulled away by the Ackerman, his rebuttal falling on deaf ears. “You didn’t give me enough time, Mika. This is all I could come up with.” Armin’s poor excuse for a costume was tissue paper wrapped around his frame in stereotypical mummy fashion, a classic of all classics.
Though, that night had concluded like any other gathering involving college-aged students, the trio having woken up to hangovers and bad decisions.
Armin stared at the contents of the box a while longer before taking the cloak out and trying it on for size. Obviously, it was meant for a taller person, but regardless, the wheels in his head gradually spun.
He took it off after careful observation when the sensation of juvenility filled his veins. He wasn’t fond of the costume rousing the impression that he was an illegitimate killer — He knew more than he let on, and his passion for the grotesqueries scribed in his books further proved that.
Concurrently, you had been pondering the reason for Armin’s disappearance. After your last conversation with him, he’d stopped formulating ways to talk to you and seemed to never leave his suite, and your heart yearned for his presence once the feeling truly settled in.
You had been swayed by his charm.
His dulcet tone of voice, the intriguing quirks that seemed to hang off of him like leaves to a tree; You missed the way he cared for you, through mundane matters and the like.
Night had fallen, the warm, ochre hues of the day meshing in perfect balance with deep purple tones that signified time’s passing. You were settling into bed, just about ready to fall into slumber when you heard light tapping at your door.
Only for a second did the thought of who could possibly be up this late float through your mind.
Your soles kissed the floor when you made your way to the front door. And once you finally opened it, the sight of your worst fear was drawn to life — The deviant sight of the unknown, with what seemed to look like a kitchen knife in its right hand.
Quickly, without time to react, you attempted to slam the door shut with the force of your shoulder but the action proved futile when the aggressor’s strength pushed back against the wood, sending you stumbling backwards and vulnerable to any attack.
Heavy footsteps creeped eerily towards you out of something from a horror film. Your worst mistake was turning your back, scrambling for a way to retrieve your phone, or even a weapon.
“Help! He-”
The stranger was more agile than you had assumed, easily capturing you with one arm around your waist and its hand cupped against your mouth. You couldn’t shake the terror growing within you as hot tears seemed to spill down your cheeks and your heartbeat so intense, you were sure that it’d had been noticeable.
Your body soft in the assaulter’s touch, they embraced your body taut. The sensation was suffocating, your eyes squeezed shut to further distance yourself from the situation at hand, even if it was only a mental trick.
You resided in a relatively safe area, so why were you in this situation? What cruel joke were you the target of?
The grip on your body loosened ever so slightly, yet you were still fixed in place by the attacker’s opposite hand. While your body was immobilized, you felt the lingering of metal lightly drag against your abdomen to find itself settled just underneath the band of your lace pajamas.
Just moments prior, you had completed your elaborate nightly routine consisting of a glass of wine, face mask, and a warm bath. You also found it fitting to change into one of your newer pajama sets — Thin, baby pink, lace bralette with matching shorts that called for forgoing the need for panties.
All you wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.
“It’d be so beautiful if you died right here in my arms,” Your assailant spoke.
Through your ears, his voice was familiar. A tone so soft, you refused to believe the possibility of who it’s owner could be.
His hand over your mouth was hesitant to situate itself elsewhere in wariness of how you’d react. He was aware of the power behind a blood-curdling scream. The neighbors in this area were nosy. He would know.
He let out a sigh. “But you look really pretty tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blood on you,” His knife trailed further into your shorts, the edge cutting out a hole in the fabric at the seat of the garment.
“Did you do all this for me?”
You winced when the sonority of cloth ripping resonated through your ears. The blade felt dangerously close, running along your body as if to taunt you. That had to be the case; You were in the perfect position to be harmed, so why hadn’t your attacker done so? With your body stricken from fear, his job was easy. Was it not?
The hand over your mouth moved to caress your face and you gasped heavily for the air you were denied.
“W-What do you want?” Your voice echoed shakily throughout the room, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. His knife inched upward to your sternum, and slowly dragged itself back down to your abdomen as he spoke.
“To see what your insides look like.”
For a split second, his hold on you seemed to diminish, granting you the perfect opportunity to run. Yet, your legs felt frail as if there were weights tied to your ankles. The assailant quickly repositioned himself in front of you, his head tilting slightly while he continued his up and down ministrations with the edge of the blade gingerly pressed against your flesh. Not forceful enough to draw blood.
“But maybe now, I want to feel your insides,” His steps crept closer, and instinctively you tried to create as much distance as possible by stepping back. It proved useless when your back hit the cold surface of the door, his face mere centimeters from yours.
Your breath hitched as you found comfort in the presence of the door, leaning against it as if it’d keep you from harm’s reach. You fidgeted, fumbling to grasp at the handle that’d grant you escape. The masked man took notice, hovering over your frame to keep you from trying anything.
“Please- -” Your plea fell in the form of a choked up whimper, just the sound he wanted to hear.
More uncomfortable ripping was sounded when his blade etched a perfect cut in your shorts, leaving your bare cunt out on display for his eyes to see. “Don’t be shy, pretty. I’m sure lots of guys have seen you like this. Am I right?”
Crudeness started to sink in as your face morphed into a contradictory pout. He took your expression for a no and chuckled genuinely, albeit louder than his previous tone. “No? Does this make me the first?” His eyes scanned your lower half once more, then flit back to meet your fear-blown orbs.
“I’d really love to be your first,”
Having grown confident enough to be sure that you wouldn’t try to break free, he dropped the knife to the side, metal clamorously clinking against hardwood flooring while he used his free hand to lift your right leg over the juncture of his elbow. He carefully slotted his middle and ring fingers into your hole, shallowly pumping. Your legs threatened to close with what you couldn’t make of embarrassment or denial.
Your mind felt cloudy once your body gave up its immobility and allowed pleasure to course through your veins, heat rushing to your core with every pump of his fingers. He took notice of the way your expression hastily contorted into one of pure pleasure, eyebrows knit together and your mouth slightly agape, eliciting quiet moans to tumble past.
It was a whorish sight, indeed. A circumstance you couldn’t control with your death at the forefront, yet it was terrifyingly easy to succumb to the euphoric sensation building up within you. The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit, and from just the light circling motions in tandem with his fingers, you felt yourself floating to the cusp of release.
“F-Fuck- -“ you rasped. Your hand reached out for his wrist to push him away but the attempt was futile and in turn, he sped up his ministrations.
“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. You’re making me lose interest.” He coyly teased.
He was thankful you couldn’t see how flushed his face appeared under the mask. The sight of you spread open for him was too much to bear, he could cum in that moment without ever feeling your gummy walls wrapped around his painstakingly hard cock.
Just before you were about to hit your orgasm, he pulled his fingers away. An agitated groan rumbled from your throat, eyes finally opening to the sight of the man before you, removing his mask and unveiling his true identity.
Something within you didn’t want to admit what you had seen.
From the golden strands of hair that shimmered against the moonlight to his cyan-hued orbs tinted dark with madness. It was Armin, but it wasn’t Armin.
“M-Min.. You —“ The words failed to leave your mouth in a coherent string of sentences. It couldn’t have been your neighbor, not Armin. He was far too delicate, too feeble to carry out a task like this.
He kept unwavering eye contact with you, your pupils shaking from shock. “Hm? Couldn’t see a thing with this mask on,” His response was that of nonchalance, his hand coming to caress your tear-stained cheeks.
“You’re much prettier behind the mesh.”
He pulled down the zipper of his slacks along with the garment itself and his briefs, just enough so that his cock was freed. You didn’t want to look, but you did. You notice how bulbous the head was, glowing a bright pink while the rest of it was pretty girthy as well. It bobbed under its weight, the strings of precum leaking onto your inner thighs as he lined it up with your entrance.
“Why would y—“
Just before you could get the vocables out, he pushed his entire length inside of you, head tilted back and adam’s apple bouncing with each groan he let out. You felt as though you were being split open by how fat his cock was, how it glided effortlessly in and out of your heat.
His pace was tauntingly slow as if he’d shoot his load prematurely. Once he gradually thrusted more vigorously though, you found it hard to keep whimpers at bay. Each push in felt deeper than the last, the wind within your system struggling to keep you afloat. You reached for something to hold onto, scrambling for Armin’s shoulders in the end. Your nails dug deep at the lean muscles of his back, creating raw, catlike scratches on the flesh.
The pain was enough to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t the pain, but the sight of you so desperate for him — So desperate for your killer.
How pathetic.
He leaned himself upward to meet your gaze again, that of something from a horror movie, his gaze was darker than before, strung together by a serious expression. “Kiss me.”
You almost didn’t hear him as your impending orgasm was your only focus. When you took too long to respond, he glanced back at the knife settled just underneath his foot, in a manner to remind you of the real dangers he was capable of.
With the slightest inclination of hesitancy, your lips met his. Contrary to his actions, his kisses were soft, sloppy, and hungry, as if he were craving you. He hooked his arms beneath your knees to hoist you up and against him.
Deeper. You whimpered into his kisses wondering how his cock fucked into you deeper. He slammed your body down onto his length, using your body like it was a toy. You pulled away from the kiss, heaving for air as your head fell upon his shoulder. “Gonna cum, ‘m so close!” Your words slurred, and before you knew it, your essence came in waves, each aftershock more jolting than the last.
He continued pounding into you, shifting his position to hold you up against the wall. Your pleasure reverberated in the form of an inaudible cry while you allowed for the bullying of his cock in your cunt. It was evident to you that he was close from the way his features were etched in pure ecstasy.
Armin looked pretty like that — Wisps of tawny bangs messily splayed across his forehead from perspiration and a light tinge of scarlet dusted across his nose and cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. His soft, rosy lips were slickened with the mixture of your wet kiss and his.
“Oh, God-”
The guttural groan he let out had your walls clamping down taut around him. “Cum for me again—Shit! Say my name,”
The stamina he retained came as unexpected to you, your overstimulated heat trying to find pleasure in the way it’s being battered up. He spoke again, this time with a docile lilt in his tone.
“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N. I wanna be yours.”
You didn’t want to. You were beyond opposed to feeding into his hedonistic delusions, especially in the impuissant state that you were in. Yet, you couldn’t stop the affirmations from flowing once another orgasmic high coiled up in your core.
“Armin! ‘M yours! All yours,”
Just as soon as your words circulated through his mind, he felt his balls tighten, his thrusts faltering in potency as he reached closer to his high.
In his mind, it was profoundly amorous that you both had hit euphoria simultaneously, warm ropes of his sticky seed painting your walls while he shallowly jettisoned every last drop. Your womb was the goal, and he had scored.
He was tentative to pull out, wanting to relish in the warmth of your core for as long as he possibly could but he knew the idea wouldn’t be feasible. “You’re so good. I mean, you listen so well,”
He delicately placed you back on your feet, your body lax in his hold. “Thank you!” He beamed, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.
“Thank you for what?” You responded, your eyes searching for anything else to focus on as you gained enough strength to separate yourself from him, even if it was just a few inches.
“You helped me,”
You couldn’t make sense of the nonsense coming out of his mouth nor his need to be a hair's breadth away from you at all times.
“You helped me realize I never wanted to hurt you,” His hands found their place at your waist, softly running along the curve. “I just wanted to be inside you.”
“No, you wanted to kill me.” You spoke in a more conflicted tone, wondering if the gears in his head were turning at all. He chuckled, creating a few inches of distance between the two of you.
“I mean, I did at first. I was jealous, Y/N,” His voice sounded like that of a beg. “You have such a perfect life and I want it — I want to be in it.”
You couldn’t bear to listen to anymore of his twisted thoughts, feeling the heavy coat of uncomfortability weighing your shoulders down. “Armin, you’re crazy.”
“I love you, Y/N. Let me into your life, please?”
He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hands furthering south until they halted at the small of your back.
“I won’t hurt you,”
“I love you.”
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @iamtrashgod @iconicbabii @inusdoll @kloesklarity @bakuhoe-3 @antistellxr
2K notes · View notes
sutorus · 8 months
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BUY ONE GET ONE FREE
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DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.
PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader
WC: 3.8k
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!
A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss
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they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.
at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.
and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.
the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.
because of course it’s geto. 
sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way. 
gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway. 
but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math. 
the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru. 
ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything. 
would never let a brother go hungry and all. 
so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway. 
you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag. 
by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”
and scene. 
that was your first impression of gojo satoru. 
if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying. 
but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time. 
and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer. 
god, you want to bite him. is that weird?
“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”
shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”
you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:
“yo!” 
you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around. 
“gojo.”
he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down. 
gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine. 
“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”
you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”
he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied. 
“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”
you can’t help but laugh at that. 
“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”
“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on. 
gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. 
“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”
your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him. 
you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”
but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling. 
“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”
right. nice guy. 
“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth. 
and who could blame you? 
“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious. 
he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”
you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable. 
you scowl up at him. 
“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”
gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”
“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger. 
“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.” 
“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing. 
“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”
that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“
“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”
whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom. 
“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes. 
“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say. 
gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”
the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that. 
you suppose he is a douchebag.
but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.” 
you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. 
“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room. 
“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”
gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs. 
“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together. 
you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would. 
but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you. 
you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—
he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately. 
his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling. 
“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“
gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone. 
“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”
you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth. 
god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip. 
“touch me,” you mumble against his lips. 
he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away. 
“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you. 
he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth. 
you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core. 
you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him. 
“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“
that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees. 
you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs. 
it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows. 
“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”
“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit. 
fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out. 
“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”
the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips. 
“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”
you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle. 
you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. 
you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs. 
it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on. 
“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed. 
“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds. 
he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have. 
you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs. 
“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple. 
it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping. 
you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him. 
the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied. 
you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath. 
he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you. 
you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.  
before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door. 
they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom. 
gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”
he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down. 
you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter. 
before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in. 
your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for. 
it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay. 
“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight. 
you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.
“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in. 
you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again. 
“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”
you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.
he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now. 
geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here. 
this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot. 
“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush. 
geto smiles, handsome and dangerous. 
“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”
2K notes · View notes
golden-moony · 1 month
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king of my heart | smau
pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader
summary: y/n is an F1 content creator loved among the grid and the fans, and more than one person ships her with lando due to how close they've always been. but when y/n goes to her first IndyCar race, the last thing she expects is being involved in rumours with another mclaren driver.
warnings: love triangle? kinda.
author's note: i might turn this into a mini series but i'll see how it goes. btw english it's not my first language so if there's any grammatical error please let me know so i can fix it, ty🧡 now enjoy!
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
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yourusername posted to their story!
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[caption 1; it's indycar weekend in Long Beach, babyyyy!] [caption 2; time for practice and snacks🌞]
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patriciooward
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liked by indycar, zbrownceo, yourusername, and 83,527 others!
patriciooward INDY500 colors and back in the streeetz🤩
user1 lookin' goooood🔥
arrowmclaren it'll look even better with confetti covering it😉 user2 admin knows a win is coming!! 💪
user3 Este es tu año, cabrón! VAMOOOOS 🇲🇽
user4 is it a requirement to be handsome to drive in mclaren? cause daaaamn
user5 same girl, same
yourusername black is the new papaya fr 🔥 can't wait for tomorrow!
patriciooward hopefully you'll be wearing #5 user6 OMG?!?!!!??? yourusername can't show favoritism! i'm a professional, sir patriciooward it can be our secret then 😉 user7 OH MY- HELLOOOOO? user8 landonorris come get your girl bro!!! user9 omfg mr o'ward i wasn't familiar with your game user10 y/n sweety, wrong mclaren driver landonorris 🤨 user11 she really said i want a mclaren, don't care which one😭 user12 and she's so real for that
user13 let's goooo Pato!! 🦆🧡
user14 y/n and pato's exchange?? NEW SHIP HAS ARRIVED!
user15 i feel like i'm betraying my roots but pato and y/n would be the it couple fr user16 SO TRUE user17 pato and lando deserve sooo much better.
user18 NOT LANDO REPLYING TO THE COMMENT 😂😂
user19 f1twt is about to have a blast with this one 🍿 user20 they already have #teampato and #teamlando hashtags going on 😭😭
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yourusername posted to their story!
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[caption 1; preparation for ✨qualy day✨] [caption 2; that's how you arrive in style]
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yourusername
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liked by pierregasly, alexanderrossi, shelovesformula1, and 76,088 others!
yourusername First IndyCar race ✅ can't explain how incredible this weekend was! I’ve had the pleasure of chatting to so many cool people, discovering so much about this series and meeting so many of you! 🧡 can't wait to show you everything soon 😘
user1 what a babeeeee 😍
frosenqvist so great to meet you! hope you come to another one again soon! 🏁
arrowmclaren we second this! user2 she's an indy girl now 😎 tkanaan especially after all the fun we had last night😜 yourusername oh i'll definitely come back for more races (and parties ofc🙊) user3 she's part of the family now! love to see it user4 mclaren team 🤝 us: being in love with y/n
user5 PATO INTERVIEW??!! WE WON
lissiemackintosh so happy to have met you!! 💖
yourusername can't wait to see u again 🥹 user6 MY FAVES 🤩🤩 user7 girls supporting girls 💞 user8 we need a colab!
landonorris y/n get out of there. That's not your family!
carlossainz55 y/n please hurry, the kid has missed you maxverstappen1 y/n please hurry, we can't stand him anymore maxfewtrell y/n please hurry, he gets whiny when you're not around alex_albon y/n please hurry, oscar is about to commit crime oscarpiastri that is correct, so please y/n hurry landonorris when i asked y'all to back me up, this is NOT what i meant 🙄 yourusername if it helps at all, i've miss you all 🫶 (except Lando) landonorris i hate y'all fr user9 this is the kind of content i pay my internet bill for 😂
user10 literal queen 👑
user11 she couldn't become lando's wag so now she goes to indy to try to find a man lol such a clout chaser
user12 girl stfu she's literally just doin her job user13 try not to sound so bitter next time 💋 user14 get a life, hater
user15 MOTHER IS MOTHERING
user16 i don't think we're talking enough about that last photo
user17 RIGHT?! Y/N X PATO LET'S GOO user18 nah y/n x lando >>>>>>>>
patooward Indy looks good on you 💯 i wonder who took that amazing first pic
yourusername credits to you, amateur😘 user19 you can't convince me they're not flirting user20 i truly don't know if i wanna be pato or y/n... i only know i'd hate to be lando rn 😭 user21 y/n and lando are the endgame user22 Y/N X PATO TILL THE END
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landonorris posted to his story!
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[caption; safe and sound where she belongs]
sooo.... y'all want part 2?
842 notes · View notes
marwhoa · 9 months
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request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.
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🝮 “ green with envy ”
rise!boys x y/n
author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?
word count: 6.1k
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┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌
Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.
But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.
It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.
But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.
Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?
So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.
The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.
“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”
Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.
“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”
“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”
He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!
“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”
Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.
“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”
He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.
“ Mm? Leo? ”
You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.
Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.
Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?
“ What in carnation? ”
There you went, first with a light and short laugh.
“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”
Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.
“—but, beleaf it or not—“
He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.
“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”
You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.
“ Y/N… ”
His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.
“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“
He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.
“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”
“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”
“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“
The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.
“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”
“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”
If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.
“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”
It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.
“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”
As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.
“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”
“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”
Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.
This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???
┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌
Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.
While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.
The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.
When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.
Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.
Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.
That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.
The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.
Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.
You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.
More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.
He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.
But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?
It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.
“ Raph! “
You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.
When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?
How could he be so stupid?
So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.
“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”
His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.
“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”
“ Wha? ”
“ You—You! ”
He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.
“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”
Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.
“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”
“ Then why do you like him more!? ”
“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”
You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.
“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”
His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.
“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”
You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.
┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌
If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.
While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.
Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.
You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.
And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.
The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.
Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.
The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.
That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.
Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.
Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.
“ Oh sh—“
Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.
Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?
Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…
Safer?
In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.
… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.
The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.
But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.
Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.
“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”
He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.
From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.
So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.
The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?
And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.
The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..
But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.
The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.
“ Y/N, can we talk? ”
Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.
“ Of course, dear. ”
That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.
“ Raph? ”
You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..
“ Raph…? ”
Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!
“ Do you like Leo? ”
“ What. ”
Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.
But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!
“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”
Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.
“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”
You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.
“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”
While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.
“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”
There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.
“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”
He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”
“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”
Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.
Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.
┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌
The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?
Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.
Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.
So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?
No? Just me?
Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.
But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.
Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?
Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.
But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?
The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.
No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.
“ Y/N. ”
Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.
“ Let’s go,”
Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.
“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”
The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.
“ Of course not, Dee. ”
Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.
“ Right. ”
He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.
The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?
What the heck, man?
“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”
Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.
You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”
Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.
“ Annoyed sigh. ”
While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.
“ Alright, spill it. ”
You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.
“ Spill what? ”
He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.
“ Spill wh—?! ”
Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!
“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”
His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.
“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”
That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.
“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”
Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,
“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”
Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.
Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.
“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”
There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…
“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”
You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.
“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”
The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”
“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”
Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.
“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”
Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.
“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”
Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.
“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”
Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.
“ Wait, you do? ”
“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”
Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.
“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”
His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.
“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”
You softened as his gaze fell onto you.
“ Because you were there.. ”
Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.
“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”
“ You were just… Jealous? ”
Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.
“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”
He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.
“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”
Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.
“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”
With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.
Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.
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predestinatos · 5 months
Text
cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16
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pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader
summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day
tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession
words: 2.6k
note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate
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The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.
But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.
Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.
You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.
Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.
“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.
Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.
They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.
That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.
Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.
You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.
Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.
You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.
“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.
“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.
You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.
His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”
You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.
he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.
You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.
Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.
Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.
You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.
“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.
Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.
You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.
At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.
Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.
Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.
“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.
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David Jenkins was not a Big Name Showrunner before OFMD. In fact, I had never heard of him before. I am not even sure what he did before OFMD, according to IMDB he wrote exactly one other show and it is one I have never even heard of before.
And he somehow got HBO to make his weird little show about gay pirates, and he got Taika Waititi to help with it, and while nobody was expecting anything of it - I mean come on guys, remember when OFMD dropped and everyone only gradually realised what it was - it became The Little Show That Could. With almost no advertising. No marketing. HBO did clearly did not expect this show to be anything, to make any real money or to go beyond one season.
But then it blew up.
Because David Jenkins was so insightful, he was so good, he brought so much fresh wind into a business where we usually can tell how the next three steps of how any show is going to go (and to be fair, a lot of us feared that Izzy's death in season 2 was coming, because all the signs fit), that we put him on a pedestal.
THE FUCKING PEDESTAL.
Yes he is brilliant. He has done stuff with OFMD that you never ever see somewhere else. He has understood that historical accuracy, as well as physics and geography, are merely backdrop for plot and characters. Completely irrelevant if you need them to be, but then suddenly important if you have a bit of story that won't work without. He understood that queer relationships deserve to be told, and when confronted with skeptic fans he learned about queerbaiting.
He took a lot of tropes and put them on their head. He structured his show like fanfic. He put thought into his stories instead of following the beaten track. He single-handedly raised the bar for every showrunner out there.
But it is still only his second show.
If he didn't shine so brightly during OFMD's first season, nobody would have expected so much of him.
And yes. He dropped the ball on Izzy.
I loved Izzy to pieces ever since season 1, I wanted to pin him to a board like a bug and study him and take him apart and put him in a blender and in situations, I loved to hate him and in season 2 I loved to love him. He is such a brilliant, complex character, so well written and so well played by Con O'Neill; the options for character analysis, relationship analysis, various interpretations of everything he has done, are simply limitless. 🤯 That is due to David Jenkins & Con O'Neill.
And David Jenkins, standing in the spotlight of all of our exaggerated expectations, decided it would have the greatest emotional impact if he killed him. He made him a symbol, for the end of The Golden Age of Piracy™, and he killed him.
He was right.
He was not original.
He fell for one of the very tropes he so successfully fought in season 1, and for the most part of season 2.
Procuring an emotional response by having a beloved character, who was just starting to embark on an exciting new journey, die tragically and emotionally, providing motivation for the remaining characters.
It was a cheap move.
It is not a Bury Your Gays. Everyone is queer on this show, you can't call something a Bury Your Gays if that would be true for every character death.
But Izzy was also old, and disabled, and he had survived a suicide attempt (that he was driven into, not chose for himself), and had just had an arc of growth and character development that could have gone on for such a long time after this. He had just learned to trust and be vulnerable and experience (gender)queer joy. God, there were so many places his character could have gone.
I loved Izzy as a character, I didn't relate much to him. But Your Mileage May Vary, and I am so, so sorry for everyone who did. You didn't deserve this.
But David Jenkins? Is still sooo much better than any generic bland showrunner that is going places in Hollywood. You want to boycott anything, boycott the big streaming services that don't have the guts to make their main characters queer, to think that "a bit of both" is inclusive or bold, and who drive out any creatives that object and try to sneak in inclusiveness. They are the enemy. They are systemic discrimination and injustice.
David Jenkins is just starting out. And he did so much better on his very first successful show than anyone who has been in the business for years. If anyone deserves a chance to prove that he can do better, it's him.
I'm sure he'll come to regret his decision. I'm sure he'll see where he went wrong, how he could have done better, and fix it in any show he might do after this. I, for one, would much rather see any show he is involved in than most of the crap that the AMPTP is putting out, now or in the future. He can only get better. And he did do a lot of things right. Never forget that. Because the majority of showrunners can't even do the minimum, and David Jenkins went above and beyond.
I think he deserves a little slack. If anyone in the streaming industry does, it's him.
It's the fucking pedestal that is the problem. It makes people who do good but are not perfect suddenly look worse than the most cowardice, opportunistic mediocre guy. But they are not and they deserve a leg up, or we are stuck with the worse option who gets support from all the wrong places. Don't fall for it.
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creedslove · 6 months
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I was thinking about Joel working hard to buy a small gift for you until he finds a heart-shaped locket but he's embarrassed because he thinks you deserve something much better, he smuggles what he can and comes home tired but a little excited to give you the detail.
He cried the day you showed him that you put a photo of him in the locket, he hugged you very tightly, burying his face between your neck and shoulder while he tried not to make his crying sound so loud
while you petted his wavy grey hair.
Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: omg baby, I am screaming and crying and throwing up at this wonderful idea, it's beautiful, lovely and sooo accurate because I'm sure this is how Joel would act underneath his rough exterior 😭
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• it took Joel so long to admit how important you were to him, his true feelings for you, instead of just shrugging off and pretending he didn't care about you at all, he battled himself really hard in order to come clean with his own feelings
• but from the moment he finally admitted and allowed his old broken heart to beat faster for you, suddenly, you were the only thing that mattered to him, even if life was shit and neither of you had any perspective of future, he would die and kill for you and you knew it
• he often orbited from thinking he didn't deserve you and that you could find something better, but at the same time he was selfish and he didn't care about anything other than having you all for himself, as you were the only good thing he still had
• even if you two lived in a shitty, old, disgusting and moldy apartment, the times you spent fucking, holding and cuddling each other were the only good part of his life
• it was because of you he managed to slow down with his drinking and pills, he hadn't stopped it yet, you knew sometimes he needed it to cope with reality, but you were his favorite drug nonetheless
• he wanted to get you something nice, even if it was pretty hard to find something decent, he felt like you deserved a small treat for being his, and even if most of stuff he found was still shit, being a smuggler had it's advantages
• so when he saw the locket in the shape of a heart, he needed to have it for you, you deserved something pretty and gorgeous like you were, so he traded stuff here and there and managed to smuggle it back into the QZ so he could surprise you
• the day he gifted you the locket, you had squealed in happiness like a child and wrapped your arms around him, jumping into his embrace and kissing all over his lips and face, it was such a gorgeous gift, so thoughtful and you didn't hesitate in showing him gratitude for it
• he was so glad to see your reaction, knowing you deserved that and much more, it brought some light into his heart, to see you so glad because of a small gesture, which wasn't a small gesture to you at all
• if anything, it was a real big gesture and you knew you had to do something meaningful, there was only one thing you could place inside of it
• going to your safe box where you kept your personal objects and other significant things, you went through your polaroids; since you and Joel had snuck out of the QZ once to find stuff and you came across an old polaroid camera and some expired films at what seemed to have been a convenience store, you simply couldn't leave it behind
• yes, the lenses were a little cracked and the film was old but you managed to snap a few pictures of you and Joel - mostly against his will - and you didn't hesitate in taking one of them, cutting in the shape of your locket and placing inside of it
• when he came home from his shift that day, you flew to his lap as soon as he sat down on the couch, and wrapped yourself around him, he noticed the locked hadn't left your neck since he got you it and you smiled big
"open it!"
• you cheered pointing at it, which Joel chuckled and did as told, he didn't know exactly what he was expecting, but he knew he wasn't expecting to see his picture inside
"now I keep you next to my heart all the time Joel"
• you whispered to him, smiling at him with hopeful, loving eyes, while he felt tears springing through his own, not sure where that emotion was coming from, but it was there nonetheless
• his strong arms wrapped around your smaller frame as tight as he could and he buried his face between the crook of your neck, your hair falling all over it, as he tries muffling his sounds so you wouldn't notice he was actually crying
• Joel Miller wasn't a man to cry very often, but his old heart couldn't take that much love, kindness and innocence you had within, he didn't know why you had settled for him, a man with such an ugly past but he was never giving up that feeling for you
• of course you knew he was crying, but you decided not to say anything about it, it'd be better not to embarrass him, so instead you just clung to him, your hands caressing his graying curls, petting him so gently as you shared that embrace
• you loved Joel and he loved you, even if he didn't admit it out loud, there was no denying it
____
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