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bambiesfics · 6 months

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⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹

warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.

author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.

“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”

You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.

“Is that where we’re going next?”

Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.

“Is that what it says on the map?”

You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,

“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”

Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”

“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.

“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”

You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.

“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”

“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”

She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”

And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.

Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.

She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.

In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’

A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.

A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.

You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.

A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.

“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.

“…What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”

“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.

“Why’d you get water?”

Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.

Vain. You teased in your head.

….But so pretty.

The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

She side-eyed you suspiciously.

“Thanks?…”

And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.

Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.

She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”

“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”

“Ah.” she responded.

“…that’s actually real as fuck.”

“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.

Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.

“Where are we going?”

Ellie turned right into a smaller street.

“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”

“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”

“—no. When will you stop asking?”

“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”

She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”

“You’re not funny Ellie.”

“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”

You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.

You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.

“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”

She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.

“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.

Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You like?”

“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”

Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.

But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.

You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.

You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.

Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.

Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.

Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”

“Yes you really do.”

Ellie’s cheek dimpled.

“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you look pretty?”

You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”

“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”

She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.

Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.

Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.

Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.

Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”

Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.

“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”

You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.

Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.

She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.

The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.

“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.

Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.

Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.

Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.

“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.

“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”

Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”

All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.

“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”

Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.

“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”

You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.

Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.

Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.

You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.

It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.

The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.

She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.

Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.

She needed off.

“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.

“What was that?” Ellie sighed.

“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.

You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”

“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.

She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.

Oh.

“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.

Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.

Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.

“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”

“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”

Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.

You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.

Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.

Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.

But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.

If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.

She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”

You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.

Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.

“nuh-uh I—.”

“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”

Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.

You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.

“You still need to pee s’more?”

“No.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe.”

Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.

You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.

You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.

“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.

“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”

You frowned.

Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.

She reassured you.

“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”

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victoria-grimesss · 8 months

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Price Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist ->Paring: Captain John Price x F!Reader ->Warning: fluff, romance, smut down below >:) ->A/N: MDNI! I've had some of these floating around my head and had to write them down.

SFW:

This man needs a vacation, he needs to sit on the beach and drink a little something with an umbrella vacation.

I imagine even if he went on vacation, he would be the "feel free to text me if anything comes up I'm just a flight away" kinda guy. Please someone make him relax.

He's a romantic guy for sure, will kiss you on the hand and bring you flowers without asking.

When you go out to eat he will open the car door, the restaurant door, and pull out the chair for you because the woman he loves will NOT be touching a door. He gives you a wink once he tucks your chair in.

When he's home, especially right after he gets back he loves nothing more than to sit side by side and read your books together, make him a good cup of tea and he's sending heart eyes your way.

His favorite way to sleep is with you right on top of him. Out on the job he sleeps with his gear on, so he's become accustomed to having a weight on his chest when he sleeps, he feels uneasy without it. But when you lay onto of him like that he's out like a light.

He gets nightmares frequently, if you're a light sleeper he apologizes for waking you up but you never complain and for that he cannot repay you. If you're a heavy sleeper and you don't wake up he'll calm his beating heart and find comfort in your scent and soft breaths. Sometimes he wants to talk about it sometimes he doesn't, it depends on the severity and if he wants to plague you with it. At times he just wants to lay with you in his arms, he's safe at home with you, his boys are safe at their homes, everything is okay.

He's built a steady routine over the years, part of that routine is waking up ten minutes before he's supposed to so he can admire you when you sleep and hold you close to his bare chest, he loves these mornings.

He trusts you with his life, and with that he'll let you trim up his beard, a barber botched it once and Gaz laughed at him, so he said you're the only other person allowed to do it now.

He definitely falls asleep when watching TV and when you try to change it he'll wake up and say he's watching it.

One time you washed his hat without telling him and he panicked like when you lose your wallet. You had to pre-soak his hat twice to get it semi-normal.

I imagine him as a good cook but a shit baker. He gets frustrated when he tried to follow a cake recipe for your birthday and can't find the recipe under the person's life story. He went to the store and bought one then wrote your name on it.

He loves it when he can show off how strong he is, sometimes you'll pretend you can't open a jar just so he can crack his knuckles and "show you how its done".

He's over the moon if you ask him to show you how to fish, even more elated if you offer it as a date idea.

He loves to sit at the counter and listen to you talk about your day. He's a sucker about your voice and could listen to you talk about literally anything.

He calls you on his way back to base and talks to you on the drive home, makes the drive go faster.

He starts ring shopping 2 months after you two started dating, he knew you were the one.

He almost threw up when he proposed, he was so fucking nervous but the night went perfectly.

Definitely carried you through the door of your shared place when you got married, he's old fashioned like that.

His dad jokes are out of this world awful, but you laugh at them even if it hurts, because you love him.

Loves to have the team over to watch sport matches, when you were house shopping he always referenced about having them over when the two of you would view the living room.

When the two of you are out he puts a hand on the small of you back to guide you through crowds.

NSFW:

His stamina is impressive, he's an older guy but he can go for rounds and those rounds are heavy and sweaty.

Alot of things you do turn him on, kiss him on the spot where his neck meets his head, touch his knee and move you hand slowly up, tell him how much you missed him, tell him he looks good in that shirt, wear that shirt, really anything you do turns the man on.

John Price loves to love you through and through this man is a giver.

He will kiss you from ankle all the way up, muttering about how good you looked today and how much he was thinking about getting you out of these clothes.

Not possessive but more protective. Your relationship is built on mutual respect for one another, although there is a trend between the times when you get a little more attention from other guys and when he absolutely fucks your brains out. He denies it the next morning.

He uses his voice to his advantage. He purrs in your ear hours before he undresses you, light light touches and honeyed words butter you up to the point you're begging for him to take your clothes off. "You need me this bad love? Desperate girl." He wears a devilish smile.

Certified pussy eating master and I stand by that. That man can go forever between your thighs, his eyes roll to the back of his head when he first licks you, you'll have to pry him away beard soaked with evidence of his skills.

Good with his hands too, he angles then just the right way to find your G-spot, all while saying the dirtiest things just so he can feel you clench around his fingers. "You like that, fuck look at you dripping down my hand."

He loves when you grip his arms when he drives himself into you, you leave nail marks and he gets off on it. That you're feeling so good from what he's doing to you that you have to hold on that tight.

Favorite positions would be missionary, cowgirl, or anything where he can look you in the eyes so he can see your reaction when he slides it in so agonizingly slow.

Loves it when you ride him, front facing so he can see you cum. He makes you wear his hat for sure. And when it dips too low in front of your eyes he'll stop all movement just to fix it. "There's my pretty girl." He grinds into you to start again.

You guys fucked in his car once and he loved it, couldn't do it again though. His back hurt too much the next day.

Guilty pleasure is hotel sex. The both of you get a nice big room at a fancy hotel, have sex in clean white sheets making a mess of the newly made bed, he fucks you in the bed, the shower, the desk, over the dresser, and against the wall, afterwards you two order all you can eat room service.

He loves getting blowjobs when he smokes, something about the combination of the two make his head dizzy in a wonderful way.

Heavy on safe-words and making sure you feel the best you can when you two have sex, always checking in on you but in the most seductive ways as to not lose the mood.

Price loves to praise you, before during and after he's telling you how good you're doing and how beautiful you look taking him so well.

Most of the time he asks you where he should cum, he just likes hearing you say it, it gets him off harder.

Aftercare!! John is big on it, he'll take you to the bathroom and you'll have a bath together or shower, he'll give you extra time when he leaves so he can change the bedding and put on a sweet movie.

If your muscles ache he'll take a body oil or lotion and gets those knots out with those expert hands, he prefers it when you're naked for these massage sessions, easier to get all your sore spots he says.

More than half the time this result in another session and neither of you are complaining.

---

peepaw for the win!!!

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vroomvroomcircuit · 3 months

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Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet

Summary: Everyone has their breaking point, even prefectly fine media trained drivers. Especially when people start asking dumb, sexist questions.

Pairing: driver!reader x f1!grid, but mostly Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen, Lando and Charles have a bit of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.2k (she is a shy shorty, please be nice to her)

🏎Masterlist🏎 _________________________

“My next question is for (Y/N): What do you want to be perceived as?”

Everyone in the post race press conference halts in their movements. (Y/N) blinks once, twice before she clears her throat and gets closer to her microphone. “I’m sorry, can you please elaborate on that? I fear my English is failing me to comprehend what you just said.”

The reporter is not hesitating, jumping into his explanation right away, as if he had chosen the words he wanted to say beforehand. “Well, you participate in a male dominated sport, being currently the only female on the grid line up. You are never seen in typically female clothing. You even wore a suit to the last FIA gala. We have yet to see you in makeup outside of festivities. That’s why I am asking what you want to be perceived as. A man? A woman? Or something in-between?”

Silence has never been so loud. Nobody really knows how to respond to such an audacity.

(Y/N) pulls her microphone another bit closer before murmuring into it: “I rather be not perceived at all. Thank you for the question, I wanted to clear that bit up for quite some time now.”

Her answer brought a booming laughter out of the one and only Daniel Ricciardo, effectively breaking that spell of awkwardness that has been cast over the room by Mr Audacity. Everyone relaxes and joins in the laughter.

As the media representative is about to call onto the next journalist, Max asks a question. “Can we all answer this? Because I want to make it clear, I identify as a problem and want to be perceived as that.”

“Yeah”, Daniel interjects,”of course you do. I want to be perceived as a menace to human kind, please. What about you, Lando?”

“Number 1 Fish Hater, certified and trademarked already,” he answers with a cheeky smile.

Charles breathes “I’m a hot mess” into his microphone before the media representative is able to call onto the next person.

The following race weekend the drivers stand in the media pits with their PR managers, hopping from interviewer to interviewer like at a speed dating event.

“-overall I would say we have a good pace. I’m confident in the team to help us through this race in spite of the unpredictable weather conditions this weekend.” (Y/N)’s answers the usual questions that are thrown at her after sessions.

The journalist smiles at her. “I am sure of that. Now, onto my last question: Last week you have been asked what you want to be perceived as and you never really answered that. Why is that?”

(Y/N) throws a not amused look towards the woman. “I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t want to answer a question that is just a poorly disguised attack towards my femininity. I can like fast cars and dress however I want without having to answer something like that. I’m secure enough in my own gender identity as a woman to be able to express myself in all the ways I want without having my actions impede on my identity or expression of my gender. I will put on a dress when I feel like it, I will get the brushes out for a glam makeup when it is convenient for me and I don’t have to do ‘typically female’ things just to please the public opinion.

Instead of going around and judging, just work on why you have this urge to comment on my expression of gender in the first place, because your insecurities surrounding my gender don’t look cute on you.”

After that (Y/N) is practically dragged away from the media pit by her PR manager, who probably already has a headache thinking about the mess that will follow on social media and certain online magazines.

But the few drivers who stood around them, having media duties to follow themselves, just stared impressed and with deep respect after the young woman. She usually is softer spoken and obviously went through bootcamp media training. This was the first time they witnessed speaking her true mind in an interview.

Back in her driver's room, where she gets ready for the debrief, (Y/N) realizes the kind of mistake she just made.

Her little outburst will definitely get more of a reaction than it would if a Max Verstappen would have said something along these lines.

Before her inner eye she sees the headlines. Something about women being too emotional for motorsports. Her being too young, too hot headed, too much of everything and somehow not enough of everything.

The team will replace her, the negative PR not leaving them any other choice. The pressure on them is too much, they already took a big chance on her by giving the driver a seat in Formula 1 in the first place.

With the news of her sudden contract ending, at least one news outlet will write “The little experiment failed”, paving an even more difficult path for other women trying to prove themselves in motorsports.

And all that just because she wasn’t able to let this stupid question roll right off her back.

A sudden knock on her door breaks (Y/N) free from her downward spiral of thoughts. Max enters the room with Daniel on his tail. “This was amazing. How you told this interviewer off on life camera? And her face? After you went out, we just had to clap. It was so cool. You were so right, too. I’m so proud you finally spoke your mind. The audacity of these people.”

It seems like Max doesn’t need to breathe, judging from his rant.

Daniel has a much softer approach. He puts a hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. “I hope you know that you had to say that back there. Even if you are ‘only’ a rookie this season, the questions you got the last couple of weeks were anything but ok or nice. Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet.”

(Y/N) shoots him a thankful smile, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with her own. “You are right. It was just a bit overwhelming at first. But I can see the appeal now. I think I have to take a few classes with Max, because the concept of saying what you think got a new fan and that’s me. It’s the best thing I have done in the context of handling media duties.”

“No, you won’t do that”, (Y/N)’s PR manager stands in the doorway, probably to fetch her for the debrief. “In this case it was a good thing to do. Important, too, of course. The fans are eating this up on social media. They already made edits with the clips. But I don’t get paid what Max’ or Lando’s managers get, so you will return to your media trained good girl roots.” With that (Y/N) gets pulled out of the room by her. Max throws her a subtle nod, to which she smiles.

Sometimes you need to be more than the good girl, especially if it’s for your own sake. Who knows, maybe this is the beginning of the story of another media-nightmare-driver.

#you can see exactly where I started to scramble for plot haha #f1 x reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x driver!reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo x driver reader #x driver!reader #x female!reader #x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

Text

obey me dateables (+ luke) playing minecraft with you

this came to me last night like a prophecy from the god of silly geese

prompt: you've somehow convinced these guys to play minecraft, a human world game, one night, just the two of you. but how exactly does that experience go?

[brothers version]

{established relationship, obey me x reader (minus luke, who is platonic ofc)}

Diavolo

oh you-- oh you thought the future king of the devildom was going to be a fearsome warrior slashing down hordes of monsters coming to attack the two of you? or a masterful builder constructing a wonderous homestead for you two to retreat to at night?

nah, this man is a certified flower picker.

diavolo basically uses this as an excuse to play domestic family simulator with you. he's at his happiest when he's picking flowers and planting them around your shared house (you've got to share a house with this man or he'll give you the most pitiful expression) or decorating to any other extent, like carpets or paintings or lights. he just loves making your little home together!

he's also just as willing to do anything you request of him. you need him to mine for cobblestone? he's your guy! need someone to fish for you? right away, mc! you have to show him exactly how to complete said task, but once you do, he's happy to help.

definitely puts your beds together and gives you a dumb, happy grin. the characters are as close as the two of you now! speaking of which, do you have any plans? will you spend the night at the castle? he can push back his morning meeting tomorrow if you promise you'll stay.

he's just so happy to spend time with you. your shared little cottage and virtual world are just another artifact of your relationship. maybe some day the two of you can have a domestic setup like this in real life, too.

Barbatos

this man is good at everything he does. obviously, he's going to pick up the controls and mechanics surprisingly fast. you'd think he'd made the game himself with the ease he gets around.

your shared house is beautiful. he actually originally made two separate houses, one for each of you. but when you looked confused and told him you assumed you'd live together, he immediately gets to work on a bigger, prettier house for you to share. the only thing that gives him away is that pleased little twitch of the corner of his mouth as he resists a smile.

with as good as he is at the game, barbatos isn't super keen on what is actually "good" and what is just normal game stuff. he finds diamonds within 15 minutes of his first trip into a cave and, when you applaud his efforts, he turns to you and very plainly asks "is that... good?"

everything he finds goes in a communal chest at your shared home. you tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he insists-- it's in his nature. he doesn't tell you that every little comment you make when you spot new, valuable resources in the chest makes his chest warm. always happy to serve, this one.

monster killing machine. nothing will hurt you in this game. they can't even get close enough-- barbatos is always there, at your tail, protecting you from stray arrows or sneaky creepers trying to get you.

Simeon

oh, you're taking on the challenge of trying to teach him how to play a video game? good luck. kiss your sanity goodbye now.

he is terrible with the controls. simeon fares a little better with a controller because it's made for gaming only. god help you both if you're on a computer. wasd? never heard of her.

despite his piss poor technology skills, he's surprisingly pleased with the way this is all going. he feels a little bad that you have to babysit him in-game but appreciates your attention nonetheless. any mistake is met with a sweet laugh-- what a good sport.

he finds your patience endearing, and vows internally to get better at this game so that you'll want to play it more often. he's already plotting to rope solomon and luke into helping him improve.

and just like any good softie, he's terrible at in-game combat. he dies so many times. he doesn't really understand what's happening when he starts getting attacked. most of the time, the creature will hit him from behind, so he literally thinks he's dying for no reason. you have to explain to him that he's gotta-- simeon just turn around, you're-- dead. he's dead already.

his strengths in lie much more simple pursuits. give this man a farm to tend and he'll be perfectly content being a cute little malewife house husband. he secretly gathers the ingredients for a cake and surprises you with one after you return home from collecting wood to expand your house. he's beaming next to you in real life; who wouldn't kiss all over that cute face of his?

Solomon

speaking of old ass men-- this man is a menace in your minecraft world.

he gets the controls pretty quickly. pros: you don't have to spend much time teaching him how to play. cons: he is confident enough in his survival abilities to just... disappear. what's that mc? you wanted to build a house together? too late. he's fighting against three endermen deep in a mine an entire biome away.

you're going to have to do a lot of the communal work yourself. build the house, gather resources, find a reliable source of food and materials-- solomon will stroll right in and steal them from your chest. if he's feeling generous, he'll leave behind the rare resources he got his hands on during his journeys. which is nice, of course, but he still stole three whole stacks of wood planks like a jackass and took off before you noticed.

you end up making it to the nether together. he says he'll protect you, and for the most part that is true. however, sometimes he's preoccupied and you get attacked while he's not looking. if you die, he'll laugh at you (yet still save your stuff and give it back when you return). if you survive, then it's onwards into the depths of hell!

when he gets bored, he starts terrorizing you. this is as basic as moving things around the house to as obnoxious as blocking you in with dirt or wood and covering you up as you try to escape. he thinks this is hilarious, by the way. but he knows you, and his antics cease before you actually get pissed off.

Luke

luke tries very, very hard to be good at this game. he gets a A for effort... and a C- for skill.

somehow, someway, he falls into every. hole. imaginable. you'd almost think they're spawning in front of him with how frequently this happens. you're playing rescue now... and again... and again... and he did it once again. he also gets lost very easily, so it's best to keep him with you at all times.

you guys decide to share a little house together and it's very cute. you've got your own separate rooms, then a kitchen and living room to share. he is very insistent that it has to look like a real house, with a real kitchen and everything. humor him and help him out-- he'll reward you by always making sure you have food.

every activity in this game is now a group activity. safety in numbers, he says, in the middle of the day with no monsters in sight. it doesn't really matter anyways. he'll follow you wherever you go. he'll even enter that super scary cave you're in so he doesn't have to face the monsters alone.

luke is very scared of being attacked by any mob in the game. he's specifically built his room on the second floor of your house so they can't get him. if he is somehow face to face with a monster, then he's yelling, incoherent as all hell, panic-building a dirt protection chamber around himself (he won't actually kill them because he feels too bad). if you're within reach, then he'll cover you too. if not, good luck with that monster! he will root for you, obviously, but you're delusional if you think he's going out there to help you.

#i would do anything for simeon to be my house husband #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me dateables #obey me luke #minecraft

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luna-andra · 7 months

Text

Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨

Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)

I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️

I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋

If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!

I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog

When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.

You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.

They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.

You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.

König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.

He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.

If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.

Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.

NSFW Bonus:

König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.

Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.

It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?

It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.

#konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x y/n #gn y/n #gn reader #headcanon #konig x you #konig headcanons #call of duty #call of duty mw 2

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Can you write something with caddie reader and Rafe going to the country club and booking her as caddie? thankss

Pardon my terrible golf knowledge...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The written duty of a caddie-girl is to carry the golf bag for the golfer. Although it sounds like an easy job, you are required to have a little golf knowledge…and let your mini skirt do the rest as people who golf at the country club are mostly men.

They won’t mind if you give them the wrong club as long as you giggle when you make a mistake or wear a short enough skirt. It’s pretty degrading and objectifying for women, but rich men give nice tips.

‘’I’m so sorry, Jeff. My alarm didn’t go off and my car wouldn’t start,’’ you explained in a rush to your boss, out of breath from running to the country club. ‘’It won’t happen again, I promise.’’

‘’You’re an hour late, Miss. Y/L/N. Your 9am client is waiting.’’ Jeff raised his eyes from his computer screen, looking at you with disappointment.

Shit. You didn’t think you would have a client so early in the morning.

‘’He specifically requested you for caddie, so save your apologies and excuses for him.’’

It must be Mr. Barclay. You’ve seen him sitting at the country club’s bar two days ago, drinking an old fashioned with a fellow club member. He always requested you as caddie. He said you reminded him of his granddaughter. You didn’t know if you should be flattered or disgusted.

You quickly dropped your personal stuff in your locker and headed to the golf course while rehearsing your apology monologue. It wasn’t in your habits to be late. Hopefully Mr. Barclay will be understanding.

When you got to the course, you searched for a silver fox, but instead you found a tall young man with a snapback and white glove in his right hand.

‘’There you are!’’ he said in exasperation, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and walking to you.

‘’Rafe?’’

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘’It’s Mr. Cameron for you,’’ he corrected with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

‘’You’re my 9am client?’’

Rafe hummed, his eyes scanning your body and smiling smugly when he saw your small skirt and tight polo. It hugged your curves in all the right places. ‘’Bet you were expecting some rich daddy, uh? I’m sorry to disappoint you.’’ He leaned closer, speaking the next words low enough so only you would hear them. ‘’If you want, you can call me Daddy Rafe.’’

You choked on air. Today was going to be a long day.

‘’Driver, please?’’ Rafe requested, when you arrived at the teeing ground.

You fished the right club from the bag and handed it to Rafe. ‘’Here.’’

‘’Thanks, babydoll.’’ He took the club and moved up to line it with the ball, and swung, his muscles flexing.

You both watched as it flew over a hundred yards in the air. Not bad.

‘’Where’s Topper?’’ you asked. ‘’You usually play with him.’’

‘’Not today. I had other plans.’’ Rafe gave you the club back. ‘’Shall we go find the ball?’’

You spent the next two hours walking along the steep cliffs and hills of the country club's golf course, watching Rafe swinging golf balls and showing off. Unfortunately, you didn’t care much for the sport. You were more interested in staring at Rafe’s muscles flexing and admiring how great his ass looked in those dress shorts.

‘’Want to have a try?’’

‘’Are you sure? I’ve never played golf before.’’

‘’You can do the next tee. I’ll show you how.’’

‘’Golf is more technical than it looks. You don't just swing the ball and hope for the best. There's a lot of factors to think about — the stance, posture, ball placement, and rotation all have to be considered for the perfect swing.’’

‘’First, the grip. Put your left hand at the top of the club and your right hand below the left,’’ Rafe instructed.’’

‘’Good. Now, the position.’’ He situated himself behind you and you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly traveled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover your own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘’Place your feet shoulder width apart and the ball should be inside the line of the big toe of your front foot.’’ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot. ‘’And you gotta bend your upper body from the knees and the knees slightly.’’

So many instructions.

You leaned forward a little while keeping your feet in the right place. ‘’Like that?’’ you asked, not sure if you were positioned correctly.

‘’Bend a bit more.’’ Rafe stepped back with a mischievous smirk, his warmth leaving your back. ‘’More. More.’’ You had a feeling that the position was wrong, but did as told. ‘’Perfect.’’ He swiped his tongue over his lips and hummed, admiring the perfect view of your ass.

‘’And now I swing?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ he said. ‘’I’m enjoying the view.’’

You straightened up immediately, catching what he was doing. ‘’Rafe!’’ you hissed with a glare over your shoulder.

He was laughing smugly. ‘’Can you blame me?’’

‘’Can you guide me again? I lost the position because of you.’’

This time, Rafe won’t make a fool of you. This time, he’ll be the one who gets played.

You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously. A soft breeze blew and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne. It reminded you of those mornings you had woken up in his bed at Tannyhill, wrapped in his sheets and covered in his scent.

Shaking that thought from your head. Focus.

‘’You’re picking up fast,’’ Rafe encouraged behind you.

‘’Do I?’’ you asked, purposely wiggling your hips against his pelvis.

You heard Rafe inhale sharply in response, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘’If you kept doing stuff like that, I might just have to take you right on the golf field.’’

Please do, you almost let slip.

At the next tee, you ran into Mr. Barclay and one of your co-worker. He was one of the newbies and seemed to be struggling with the golf bag.

‘’Mr. Barclay, hi,’’ you greeted politely. ‘’How’s the course today? We’ve made new additions this year.’’

The older man greeted you back with a smile, then began ranting about how his caddie wasn’t as good as you at the job. ‘’I asked for you at the caddie shack, but I was informed my favorite caddie-girl was already booked.’’

Rafe stepped in, faking an apologetic smile. ‘’That would be because of me. My apology.’’

Mr. Barclay stared you down like you were a piece of meat and then shifted his eyes to Rafe, giving him a ‘lucky you’ kind of look before leaving with his caddie.

‘’Are your other clients all old perverts like him?’’

Most. ‘’He gives me good tips,’’ you said in defense.

Rafe pulled out his wallet, then stared you right in the eyes as he stuffed a crumpled hundred dollar bill inside your bra. ‘’I do too.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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kelcemenow · 5 months

Text

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1661

Warnings Strong language, but not much and a wee bit of flirting.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The dialling tone rang loudly in your ear for a few seconds as you wedged the office phone between your head and left shoulder. You typed up a couple of notes on the computer when the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it that Mr Kelce? It's Y/N from KC Auto repairs." You said, checking your notes.

A deep voice laughed, "Hey, yeah it's Travis. You can call me Travis."

"Oh, okay Travis. I had a look at your car and there is a problem with your combustion chamber. You see, vehicles need the right amount of air and fuel to mix and then-"

"Woah woah, you lost me at combustion." Travis said, "Just tell me, is the car a goner?"

You giggled, "No, you just need new spark plugs. It's around $250 including labour."

You could hear him sigh down the line, "Oh! That's fine then, do what you need to do."

"Okay, sure thing. I'll be finished with it by 4pm. Are you able to come and collect around then?"

There was a short silence, "I've got a crazy day. I got a couple of things to figure out first, I don't know if I'll be around."

You checked your schedule in the large leather bound diary in front of you, "Well, I'll be in the shop late working on some other cars, so if you drop by anytime before 7, I should still be here."

"Awesome, I'll stop by!"

"Great, catch you later." You placed the phone back onto the receiver and quickly jotted down in your diary details to remind yourself to replace Travis' spark plugs.

The office door opened and the noises of the shop floor grew increased for a second before they were muffled again as the door closed.

"Hey sport." You felt your Dad's hands on your shoulders, "Your headache gone yet?"

"Not really. I already got two cars to finish up, a service and now these new spark plugs for do for that GMC." You pointed your pen in the direction of Travis' car as you began to write out a worksheet.

Your Dad leant down across your shoulder, "I could do the GMC for you?"

"Dad no, Dr Martin said you had to take it easy." You covered the worksheet with your hand.

He swiped your hand away, "Oh come on, I'm fine! It's spark plugs."

You laughed until you noticed that his face had quickly changed when he caught sight of the sheet, "What's wrong?"

His once rosy cheeked complexion was now a ghostly shade of white, "Travis Kelce...you have Travis Kelce's car here?"

"Yeah, why?"

His eyes widened as he looked towards the shop floor, "His car is in my shop? The GMC, that's Travis Kelce's car?"

Your eyebrows lowered in confusion, "Yeah, he dropped it off this morning?"

"Oh man! Y/N, you gotta let me do it! The boys at the fishing lake aren't gonna believe this!"

"What is going on? Who is this guy?" Your voice was beginning to heighten in pitch.

Your Dad lifted his sweatshirt up to reveal a bright red jersey with the number 87 emblazoned on the front, "Travis Kelce is one of the greatest tight ends the Chiefs have ever seen!"

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your diary for the day.

"Which you would know if you ever watched football with me!" He poked you in the arm with his finger.

You tore off the worksheet from the pad, "If I give you this, will you stop shouting and making my headache worse?"

You Dad carefully took the paper from your hands and gently kissed the top of your head before dancing his way out of the office and onto the shop floor, Travis' GMC waiting in the corner of the garage.

______________________________________________________________

Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, you noted that it was 6.25pm. All of your colleagues had already left for the day, leaving you in the shop by yourself. You preferred working alone but your Dad's business had built up a good reputation in the city for being the best repair shop and it was always busy.

When you were younger, you had always preferred fixing your Barbie's houses to make them better as apposed to playing with the dolls themselves. As a teenager you could always be found in the workshop tinkering with tools and learning everything you could from your Dad. You started helping him in his shop during the summer and when you left school, he took you on and gave you a job. You saved every penny you could and when your Dad needed to take a step back from work, you bought into the business, running it alongside him.

You gazed up at the underside of the Ford that was lifted above you, squinting as the night drew in. The crackled radio played in the background and as you hummed along to yourself, the faint sound of footsteps seemed to blend into the music.

"Um...hello?"

You turned your head towards the direction of the deep voice, a silhouette standing in the doorway of the shop.

You squinted further, trying to make out any defining features but to no avail. "Karl, if this is you trying to scare the shit out of me, you gotta try harder than that." You shook your head and dropped your wrench down onto the floor, the sound of the metal hitting the cement loudly echoing in the vast room.

The figure stepped further forwards, his hands held up, "I'm sorry...it's Travis. I'm just here to pick up my car?"

You felt your cheeks flush red, "Travis? I am so sorry, that was really unprofessional of me."

"Hey, it's all good! Don't worry, I probably shouldn't have lingered in the doorway watching you."

Your mouth twisted to the side, "You were watching me?"

His eyes grew bigger, "Not in a creepy way. But now I've said that it wasn't in a creepy way, it sounds like it was in a creepy way."

You wiped your hands on your towel, smiling slightly as you listened to him struggle.

"I was just...impressed. Like I said earlier, I have no clue when it comes to shit like this." He looked around the room at the various tools and parts that were dotted around.

You slowly nodded your head, "Well, thanks...I guess?"

Travis scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet, a clear indication that he was nervous. You took the opportunity to really look at him. He was wearing bright white trainers, dark wash jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket with a white shirt underneath. He was so pristine and you were quite concerned that he wouldn't make it out of the shop without a smudge of oil on him.

"So, my car?"

You looked towards it, digging the keys from one of your many pockets, a couple of bolts coming out with them, "Uh yeah, my Dad took great pride in fixing your car. He's a big fan."

"Oh yeah? Well please, tell your Dad I said thanks!" He smiled before looking around again, "You on your own?"

You sighed, "Yeah, I got a few things to clear up on these babies and then I'll be done."

He unlocked his car and opened the door, pausing for a second before he turned back to you, "Wanna go for a drink?"

Your heart stopped for a beat or two and your chest tightened, a feeling you weren't used to. Men didn't usually ask you out, especially not at work. You didn't exactly make an effort to only be covered in grease all day and everyone knew that your Dad wouldn't be far away, meaning most potential dates kept you very much at an arms length. But here he was, an exception.

"I've still got some work to do." You looked down at your current appearance, "And I might not be down with the latest trends, but I'm pretty sure no one will let me in anywhere looking like this."

Travis smiled coyly, "So, is that a no?"

You winced at his hidden hurt, guessing he wasn't used to women turning him down, "Thanks...but no." Digging into your pocket, you retrieved his invoice, black fingerprints smudged across the paper.

As he reached to take the invoice, his large hand covered yours and you subconsciously held your breath, a fast heat rising to your face.

"No sweat, I might see you around anyway?" He jumped into his car, turning the engine on, "I'll wire you the money for the spark...things."

You nodded in acknowledgement, watching as he pulled away carefully out of the garage and into the night. You unclenched your shoulders and laughed to yourself, turning your attention back to the Ford.

______________________________________________________________

"A package? Who from?" You questioned.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. I didn't open it."

"We never get packages."

You became slightly distracted as Jordan tugged at the bottom hem of his hoodie and pulled it up and over his head, his shirt lifting up slightly to reveal a peek at his toned abs. He threw the garment onto the floor beside him and gazed at you.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, "Uh...I'll go and have a look now."

You furrowed your brows, making your way towards the office and shaking your head on the way, exacerbated at yourself.

On the desk was a small brown package with no indication of who it was from. You ripped open the paper and carefully pulled out the framed photograph. It was a picture of Travis midgame, the ball safely clutched in his gloved hands and speeding towards the end zone. He had signed the corner of the photograph. You turned the frame over to see some slightly messy handwriting on the back.

"For your Dad."

You smiled at his kind gesture.

"Let me know when you want to go for that drink."

______________________________________________________________

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 @cedricbitch @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes @mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 9 months

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Jade Leech - "A Love That Always Seems To Taste Better on Toast"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain eel merperson experiences a picnic for the very first time. Or; In which Jade Leech gets to live out one of his many domestic fantasies with the love of his life.

Warnings -> Suggestive if you squint hard enough.

🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬

"Here, I'll feed it to you. Say aah~"

[Name] coos as they lift a slice of toast slathered with peach jam to Jade's mouth; a sweet, loving smile playing on their lips.

The dual-color-eyed man sports a love-struck smile; eyes hooded as his cheeks and ears bloom a brilliant red hue. His lips graciously parted to accept the offered food in front of him.

"Aaaaaaah~"

He hums playfully, sinking his pointed teeth into the crispy, sweetened bread and pulling a fairly large-sized piece away; all while his hand is gently clasped around their wrist.

[Name] and Jade were in the campus greenhouse, having a picnic. Something, [Name] had found, that the eel merperson had no experience of while having a conversation about the ways someone could pass their time back in their old world.

So, as of now, the two were sat upon a classic red and white plaid blanket; a large woven basket holding various jars of homemade jam, an entire loaf's worth of toast, a small wedge of cheese, and some sandwiches, sat off to the side within arms reach. A large pitcher of cider sat next to the basket; the beverage's deep, rich color contrasted with the vibrant yellow lemon slices that floated atop the liquid.

"Hmm, delicious. And you said you made all of this yourself? My~ how talented you are, Angel Fish."

Jade purrs; long tongue darting out to lick the leftover jam and bread crumbs from the corner of his lips.

"Although...."

A sultry smirk bloomed onto his lips as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against [Name]'s warming ears while his arms encircle their waist; pulling them onto his thighs.

"....I think I know of something that should taste even better. And would you look at that, it's sitting right on my lap and looking downright scrumptious.~"

🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬•♡•🐬

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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ummmlife · 7 months

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Because you asked for it!!! literally no one ever asked for this

here are my...

Nanami Kento headcanons

Warnings!; none... maybe mention of nsfw?

My man here is fucking blind, like, he needs glasses to read. He also has prescription sunglasses, and has more than those ugly glasses he wears.

Started buying Rolex watches when he worked as a salaryman. He simply saw a man with a fancy watch one day and said "Oh, I want one of those".

Although he's a foodie, he often skips his meals, not intentionally though.

Has a great collection of alcohol in his home, that's not a surprise for anyone, yeah. But Nanami also owns a small barista kit to make cocktails.

He's not a virgin but the last time he had sex with someone was a month before leaving his salaryman job. Poor man.

Calling him "daddy" won't have any effect in him. He will probably be confused if you call him "daddy" like ??? why are you calling him father?

Now, if you call him "husband" or dirty talk to him like a good housewife (even if you're not a woman), gurl, he'll go feral.

Also, Nanami really wants to get married. The whole idea of being a family man and have his own spouse and children makes him happy.

He's cancer, duh.

Cry baby, also.

Nanami usually bottles up all his emotions to simply lay down on his bed at night and cry himself to sleep.

Unless you are not his partner, you won't see his clingy side. Nanami is needy, he needs to give and receive a lot of love.

He's the kind of man that sleeps all curled up with his partner, the more physical contact there is, the better.

Don't forget that he's a millennial. Nanami can't start his day without a coffee.

Yeah, he likes Harry Potter and shit.

His Instagram is: 8 post, 6 of them are about food.

He's more active on twitter tho, but not like you think. He uses twitter as his second newspaper.

Nanami seems like a very correct man who listens to classical music all the time, but we all know he's an emo at heart. But he also enjoys bossa nova a lot.

Since his grandpa is danish, he knows like 10 words in danish.

He's not blond, he started dying his hair when he was recruited into jujutsu high. Surprisingly, his hair is in a very healthy state.

Yeah, he knows how to dye hair.

Nanami had a lot of intrusive thoughts, some of those makes him very afraid of his own mind.

Only watch weird philosophical movies from unknown european directors... Unless you find him on a sunday's night watching the most cheesy romcom you've ever heard about.

He also reads manga, but occasionally. Probably likes something like Golden Kamuy or Vagabond.

His favorite sport is baseball.

He once tried pilates (Gojo's recommendation)... never more.

Loves edging himself when he has to relieve stress

Has a lot of plants, all in perfect health.

If his partner gets pregnant, he will ask to try breastmilk... Why? I dunno, he's probably curious.

His favorite position is missionary, boring af, but he likes to see his partner's face when they cum.

If he's in a relationship, don't expect him to jerk off. Even when he was single didn't jerk off unless he was incredibly horny, the plus of a relationship is that he will ask his partner to make love together to ease his human needs.

Likes cats more than dogs for pets, but he'll definitely have fishes or a turtle if he can.

Very sensitive, with everything in general. Textures, noises, flavors. If there's something that overstimulates his senses, he will have a bad day.

That's why he buys one specific brand of condoms and also 99% cotton everything that has fabric on it.

Very clean for the same reasons, he can't stand visual noise.

Nanami also cleans his home spiritually. Does he believes in that? Not necessarily, but it feels his home cleaner.

Loves being kissed on his forehead and jaw.

Also likes the sensation of being protected, he's always protecting people but he likes also to feel safe and cared.

If you ask him to wear a skirt, with a bit of struggle, will agree.

Has never tried anything sexual like bdsm or something like that. Just the basic 4 positions of sex.

Nanami is just a sweet guy who only shows his cute side when he's comfortable enough with his loved one.

That's all for now!

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami headcanon #. bibi's writing

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svgvru · 7 months

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꒰ ✮ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 '𝟮𝟯 — 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗧𝗪𝗢!

𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧! oral + pussy inspection, "just sit on my face, yeah?" ꒰ ftm!geto x dom,m!reader ꒱: face riding, fingering, oral ꒰ afab!recieving ꒱, squirting, spanking, slight brat taming.

𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶. his stupid bratty personality has rubbed off on your sweet baby. satoru gojo, who has this "i don't listen to orders" policy, (unless someone's about to die). whether it come from you, geto, shoko, yaga, or the higher-ups. that man does not listen. and normally, like the adults the rest of you are, you pull him away from his stupid actions. it was usually suguru who kept him on track and actually listened. however, suguru's been on this little "not listening" streak. you'd think after his defection (and you saving his life), he'd listen more.

because of his new strict life. being watched by sorcerers and not leaving home without someone to keep an eye on him, you haven't been harsh, no. he's so sweet and does everything you ask of him, perhaps this is "just a phase." however, he's violated a rule of yours. no touching himself without permission. and suguru knows that you always bend him over and check. perhaps it was because he knew you were going to another country for a buisness trip and couldn't take him. maybe he thought you would never find out, hell, you'd be gone for a week!

well, you told him you were going to he gone for a week. there was a high chance you'd be back one day earlier, and you were, but you didn't tell him that. on the car ride to your home, you picked up the phone to call him. after two rings, suguru picked up, however his voice sounded different. "hey, baby. how ya doin'?" your voice is sweet and soft, just how he likes it. "hm? 'm good. 'r you?" you tilt your head at his response, questioning how breathy he sounds. and he also doesn't shorten his words like that. "yeah, im good. are you sure you are? you sound a little...breathy."

almost immediately he gives you an 'mhm!' "'m fine. promise! i—went walking with satoru..." the pause in his voice and immediacy in his voice produces a smile on your face. "alright, baby. i just wanted to check on you, call you later." suguru says good bye and hangs up the phone. oh, he's lying.

the car soon arrives and you grab your suitcase and carry-on bag, fishing for your house key from your pocket. suguru questions whether the car that just stopped was your neighbor, or you. well, you said you'd be back tomorrow, its not you...right? his fingers continued to move before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. shoko doesn't have a key, he hasn't done anything to warrant a visit from the higher-ups, and satoru definitely doesn't have a key to your house. it is you!

as you step into the house, you hear a clang! and a thud! coming from your shared bedroom. an amused smile finds it's way onto your face. "my love, where are you?" you call into the house, washing your hands and shrugging off the packed backpack on your shoulders. a few seconds later, suguru walks into the living room of your home. he sports a pair black shorts that stop a few inches above his mid-thigh, a grey sweatshirt of yours covers him. "here," he wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "hey, pretty..." you whisper and turn around in his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. suguru feels your soft hands cup his face, although, your eyes are studying his face.

an anxious feeling builds up in suguru's chest at your staring. his face is red, and a droplet of sweat rolls down the side of his face. you smile at him, a smile he recognizes. it's sweet, warm, hell—inviting! but he knows otherwise, you figured it out, and he's in trouble. you were never that damn nice, and a feeling of regret settled in his chest right next to the anxiety.

"suguru," your voice is soft and comforting, its far too soft, and far too gentle. "yes?" your thumb gently caresses the skin of his cheek. "can you do me a favor?" the man in front of you simply nods, his eyes full of shame as he locks eyes with you. he just 100% sold himself out. your smile grows a bit bigger, your eyes turning a bit darker at his expression. you chuckle lightly and lick your lips before leaning into him, pressing your lips to the shelf of his ear, the place where you know simple whispers could het him wet. "go lay down the bed. on your back no shorts no boxers, yeah?" you lean back and look at him for him response. the poor baby looks so nervous.

suguru nods and walks back into the bedroom, cursing whatever deity that helped you remember to check his pussy. and the wait was excruciating. as if you were doing it on purpose, he waiting for such a long time, building up more anxiety in his chest, although the heat he felt from before you arrived was still present.

after what felt like eons, you walked through the doorway of your shared bedroom with a smile. crawling on the bed, your lips press to his lips for a quick peck. "'m sorry, my love. extra buisness to take care of," you smile and sit up, slotting yourself in between suguru's legs. "you been takin' care of yourself since i've been gone?" suguru nods, his face becoming flushed at your slow and deliberate actions. your hands carefully slide down his thighs, pushing up your much too big shirt up to lay on his hips. "really?" your voice is smooth and far too interested. his brown eyes remain locked onto yours, a worried expression in those beautiful eyes of his. it makes you smile, far too happy to ruin him after your stressful buisness trip.

once your shirt is pushed up under his ass, you take the liberty to finally look at his body. your gaze pretty pert nipples, hard enough to see through your shirt, one's that have clearly been played with even without the full sight of them. your eyes run along that happy little trail of hair from his bellybutton and town between his hips.

and finally your eyes land on his pussy. your fingers run along his red and puffy outerlips, ghosting over his clit. suguru gulps as you lightly touch, twitching at the feeling. "suguru," your voice calls to him, resulting in his nerves building up. your index and middle fingers spread his puffy inner lips, strings of slick connecting the two. a hum leaves your lips as you lightly rub in between his folds, feeling a large amount of slick collect onto your finger. your quite sure some of it was from the anticipation, but he couldn't have been this wet in such a short time. "did you touch my pussy?" you question softly, eyes trained onto the way his pussy is reacting to your fingers.

"my." that word you always use to signify that his body is yours, regardless of what he thinks. "well, i—" he starts to try and come up with an excuse before a rude a awakening occurs by the slap of your hand to his inner thigh. "answer." your eyes lock with his for a brief moment, before they go back to inspecting. "y-yes. i did— but! i was so needy! and you weren't here! i— ah!" you slap his thigh again. "i didn't ask for excuses."

suguru sucks in a breath as he feels a finger of yours slip into his inviting cunt. your fingers presses and rubs, as if searching for something on the inside of him. you remove you finger, watching the transparent fluid roll down. carefully, you pull back his red clithood— a smile graces your face when he jolts, making a humming noise. "how many times did you slap this pretty clit of mine?" suguru's lip trembles. "don' know. i jus' slapped it like you do, n' in felt good. so i did it harder n' faster," he mumbles, his eyes looking away from you until you roughly slap his already swollen clit. a loud moan left his lips, back arched in pleasure. "look at me when you speak." you speak to him firmly and assertively. your back, he thinks to himself, the tamer side of you.

suguru asked himself many questions. why did you lie to him about the date you were coming back? was this a test? because if it was a test he surely failed. why'd he think he could've gotten away with this anyway? you know his body almost if not more that he does. you know his mannerisms, the way he speaks, and his little twitches when he's horny. especially that familiar look of shame when he's cum.

it was stupid, his decision to disobey your rules. and he knew he was getting punished one way or the other. would it be more spanks? the cane? or edging him? those questions ran through his head, he was sure it'd be one of those. however, he didn't quite expect for you to sigh. to roll over on your back and pull his legs to rest on either side of your head. "wha—" your hand connects to his ass, shutting up his words. "i would punish you now, but i'll do that later," you state, "for now, im tired and have no energy. so you'll ride my face."

you could almost laugh at the look suguru gave you just then. sure, you've done oral, but he's never sat on your face. what if he's to heavy? he can't hear you say the safeword! what if you don't like it? what if he moves wrong? what if— hes thoughts get interrupted when you grab his hips. "just sit on my face, yeah?" your eyes are strained on his dripping wet pussy, hovering over you. "i'll guide you. just— hands on the headboard and i'll tap you three times if you need to get off, kay?" suguru can't even answer the question before you pull on his hips, shoving his pussy right down onto your mouth. your hands starts pull and push his hips so he rocks a bit, your tongue gliding in between his folds and along his clit.

suguru yelps at your sudden actions, letting you rock him. it feels weird, he admits to himself. sitting on your face, but the unfamiliar feeling starts fade as your nose hits his clit. "o-oh! aH! ngh—!" his moans fill your ears as he starts to rock. he starts to feel your guided movements as if they're natural, feeling your tongue piston inside of his gummy walls. his cunt so inviting for your tongue, the one that could bring him infinite pleasure.

and as if your tongue were a cock, or the dildo he had been riding all week— he started to lift up just a bit. his hips no longer require your guidance as he rocks desperately.

one of his hands burries in your hair as if that could pull your closer to him. his moans become louder, full of desperation and longing. it seems he'd missed you this week. your eyes are trained on his face— lips sucking on his clit as if it was a sweet candy. your eyes watch his reactions. they keep focus on how slack is mouth is, collecting drool in his mouth. how his eyes are crossed and rolled, his irises hardly visible—hell, your sure he can see his brain at this point! pathetic moans leave his pink lips, pink from his desperate bites. your eyes follow his pleasured actions as he tilts back his head, his small addamsapple bobbing as he's roughly rocking and rubbing against your mouth. you chuckle at his actions. desperate whore, hm? you think to yourself. as if he hasn't been fucking himself all week.

his moans start to become a bit more feminine, high-pitched and needy— he's close. "angh! o-oh...sir. a-ah— aAH!" his eyes widen, toes curling and thighs trembling when he cums. he makes a mess of your face, the transparent liquid dripping down the sides of your mouth and nose despite you eargly lapping up his release.

suguru continues to needlessly rock on your face, silently begging for more stimulation. you'd swear he was broken! well— perhaps he was. perhaps his mind was trapped on the way you feel, desperately wanting more. perhaps that's why he shoved that dildo inside of him, because it was your size. "needy," you mumble into his cunt and carefully hold him. you sit up as you do, one hand traveling to support his back as you let him fall back between his legs. his eyes were hazy and still full of lust and raw need for you. you chuckle at his expression. "you seem like you want more," suguru eagerly nods despite his state. you chuckle, "im glad your so excited. good, because im not stopping anyyy time soon." you lick his release from around your lips.

"because i've desperately missed my fleshlight."

#𝗔𝗖𝗧 ꒰ GETO ꒱#𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗡𝗢𝗪... is ftm!geto adopting satoru's "i follow no rules' policy. pray for him.#𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 ꒰ 09 — '23 ꒱#geto x reader #geto x male reader #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x male reader #suguru geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 14 days

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #atlantis #atlanteans #good parent bruce wayne #arthur curry #bruce wayne is bad at feelings

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slutforsilverfoxes · 8 months

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Oliver and His Company

[A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but if you want context on Aaron & reader’s relationship, find their story here and here! Enjoy 🖤]

4 times Aaron Hotchner refused to admit that he’s a cat person…

1) A Spicy Upgrade

“I swear, Em, it was like an out of body experience,” you tell your best friend through the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you balance grocery bags in one hand and fish your keys out of your pocket with the other.

“So everything was just backwards?” Emily laughs.

“Yes!” you cry, equal parts miffed by your dream and excited to have somehow slotted the key into the lock in the correct orientation without looking. “Pen was, like, fifty shades of beige, and everyone else was super bright and colorful! Hotch was wearing a suit worthy of Elle Woods herself,” you assert.

“I would pay a stupid amount of money to see that,” your best friend snickers. “Can we please get him a pink suit?”

“Not gonna lie, he looked pretty hot,” you muse quietly as you shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. “I’ll work on…that…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, sorry to have worried her. “Just found my man in an interesting position. Call you later, love you, bye,” you rush out in a whisper, ending the call and snapping a photo for your personal album before the opportunity disappears. Clearing your throat, you place the last of the grocery bags on the counter with a solid thud. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

Aaron’s answer is muffled given the fact his head is currently in the spice cabinet, the rest of his tall form tucked under him, ass comically up in the air for better leverage. You bend down with a groan and open the adjacent cabinet to pop your head in, meeting his sheepish smile and reddening cheeks. Pressing your lips to his, you murmur, “I didn’t quite get that.“

“I said-” He pauses to capture your lips in another sweet kiss, and the butterflies that have taken up residence in your belly since the first day you met Aaron Hotchner stir to life. “I read online that it’s easier for cats to open doors with handles than knobs, so I’m fixing all the doors before you move in.”

“You’re what?” You bump your head against the top of the cabinet in shock, letting out a harsh curse that you’re glad Jack isn’t around to hear.

“Oh, honey,” Aaron tuts softly, unfolding himself from his spot to help you out and delicately rubbing the tender area on the back of your head.

“You- by yourself- you’re swapping out every single handle in this house for Oliver?” You don’t mean to sound incredulous, but there’s no way this man is real. Then again, he bought this house six months into your relationship so that you could each have an office space and ample room for Jack and one or two additional little Hotchners to grow up- although he hadn’t divulged the latter part of that plan to you when he gifted you a key.

“I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“No,” you cut him off immediately, molding your palms against his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss, your lips quirking up in a victorious grin. “It sounds like something a loving cat dad would do.”

Aaron scoffs before muttering, “Just don’t want him getting stuck, that’s all.”

“Right,” you draw out the word, one eyebrow raised playfully. “Totally not cause you’re a cat person. And that’s why I spotted an empty box sporting a picture of a cat tree as tall as you in the garage?”

“I never said I dislike cats, I’m just a dog guy!” Aaron insists, his words falling on deaf ears as you playfully hum a tune from The Aristocats while arranging the groceries in the fridge and he returns to his project.

2) A Sleepy Surprise

Toeing your shoes off in the mud room, you call out, “Boys? I’m home!” The novelty of getting to say those words has yet to wear off even though the last of your moving boxes are piled up on the curb, waiting to be recycled.

There’s no answering pitter patter of feet in the hallway nor voices greeting your arrival, but the sneakers lined up next to yours- one large pair in understated colors, one much smaller pair with Darth Vader on one shoe and Luke Skywalker on the other- tell you your little family is definitely home. You place your car keys on their designated hook before making your way down the hall, pausing at the threshold of the living room with a smile on your face at the sight before you.

Aaron’s lying on his back, his tall form taking up the entire length of the couch, with Jack tucked into his side and an orange ball of fur curled up on his chest, rising and falling with each peaceful breath of his. You let out a content sigh, warmth blooming in your chest from the overwhelming sense of comfort and love these three have brought into your life. Holding your hair back so it doesn’t tickle your darling boy’s face, you press a delicate kiss to his cheek and his mouth turns upward for the briefest of moments. Then you nuzzle your nose against the soft fur between your cat’s ears, and he stirs with a half-hearted chirp before curling up even tighter on his literal man-made bed.

“You’re home,” Aaron murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper with a guilty pout, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to make dinner.”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far, and you turn back to find just who exactly Jack inherited the puppy dog eyes from. “We can order in tonight. Stay with me?”

You gesture to the full couch and ask, “Where?”

Aaron tips his chin down to see Oliver purring contentedly on his chest, and he taps his head until the cat sits up with bleary eyes. “You’re in your mom’s spot.”

You stifle a laugh as your cat pointedly yawns in your boyfriend’s face, then takes his time using Aaron’s solid body to stretch before flouncing away in search of a bed with less attitude. Aaron looks up at you with a self-satisfied grin and pats the newly vacated space. Shaking your head as you ease yourself down to lay across his body, you chide, “That was mean.”

“Never too young to learn about sharing,” he pontificates.

“Mm, yes, what a poignant lesson from father to son,” you respond, voice muffled against Aaron’s chest.

“Step-cat, at best. And don’t you even say it- I’m not a cat person.”

“Sure, babe.”

3) A New Purr-spective

“Jack-Jack,” you call out with a knock against the doorframe to get the little Hotchner’s attention. He looks up from his latest art project with a smile and says, “Yeah?”

“Daddy washed your uniform so you’re all set for tomorrow’s game. And I wanted to ask you about…this,” you offer hesitantly, flipping the shirt in your hands around so he can see Hotchner displayed at the top and the number matching his jersey. “Would it be okay if I wore this so we can match?”

“Does Daddy have one, too?” His excitement- and nonchalance about you sporting their last name- has relief flooding through you, and you mirror his eager smile.

“Of course! Except his is even cooler cause it says ‘Coach’ on the front,” you respond with a click of your teeth. “I made one for Uncle Dave, too!”

“Awesome. You’re the best!” Jack proclaims.

“No, you are.”

“Nu uh, you,” he insists.

“Nope! You!” You let the word be drawn out as you make your escape down the hall, peals of laughter from Jack’s room echoing behind you.

“I have received official approval to wear my shirt,” you announce as you cross into the master bedroom, only to find the space empty. You can hear Aaron’s voice in hushed tones from the walk-in closet, so you approach quietly thinking that he’s on the phone.

“…not exactly your textbook psychopath, right?” He pauses, then continues, “Right. So there must be a piece of the profile we’re missing, something that explains the evolution of the kills with the alarming disorganization of the crime scenes. Do you think we could be dealing with two unsubs?”

Aaron’s phone is on the bedside table, and he’s using both hands to wrestle one of his dress shirts onto a hanger. Then, you spot his silent partner- Oliver’s sitting in his bed, in the nook that Aaron built into the closet for him, languidly cleaning his paws as your boyfriend theorizes aloud.

“So,” you start, crossing your arms and leaning against the wide doorframe, “you still maintain that you’re not a cat person?”

You can see the back of Aaron’s neck turning red at having been caught, but he studiously carries on putting the clean laundry away. Without turning to face you, he asserts, “I’m just… using him as a soundboard. Animals are excellent judges of character.”

“Congratulations, Ollie,” you offer proudly to your son, “you’re the very first cat to join the Behavioral Analysis Mew-nit.”

“Now that’s bad, even for you,” Aaron chuckles, and you bark out a, “Hey!” with faux umbrage. “When are you going to admit you love this cat?”

“I do love this cat,” your boyfriend counters, finally turning to face you. He curls his arm around your waist to pull you against him and speaks between kisses dotted along your nose and cheeks, “I’m just not a cat person.”

Smoothing your hands across his chest with playfully narrowed eyes, you mutter, “The Hotchner doth protest too much, methinks.”

4) Paw-sitively Whipped

“Bedtime, my little bubbas,” you raise your voice to be heard over the churning of the dishwasher as it starts up, drying your hands on a towel while you walk into the living room. Jack is sprawled out on the floor, flicking a feather toy on a stick back and forth that has Ollie frantically giving chase. You’re honestly not sure which little guy is more entertained by the game. “But I’m helping Oliver get his exercise! Daddy says he’s looking chunky lately,” Jack negotiates.

You and your cat turn to Aaron in unison, the man in question suddenly engrossed in an article on his phone. “Daddy’s lawyer genes certainly passed on to you, huh, Jack?” The little Hotchner grins proudly up at you in response, but even that sweet face doesn’t break your resolve. “C’mon, my love, we left off at a really good cliffhanger last night, remember?”

“You’re right,” Jack gasps, suddenly inspired to get ready for bed. “I’ll be ready in two minutes!”

“Make it three- you need to brush your teeth for a full two, Jack,” Aaron calls as he zooms past you to his bathroom.

“Okay!”

“Alright, Weight Watchers,” you snort, tweaking Aaron’s nose while he looks up at you sheepishly, “who’s on reading duty tonight?”

“I’ve got it,” he declares, tugging on your hand to guide you into his open lap. You settle against him with a sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pressing lazy kisses to his skin. Aaron turns his head to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly grows more heated, and you let out a whimper when he cups the back of your neck to hold you more firmly to him until Jack’s little voice rings out down the hall.

“I’m ready for bed!”

“And that’s your cue, Daddy,” you laugh, patting his chest fondly before detaching yourself from him.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he declares in a murmur, and you can’t resist a smack to his shapely ass before parting ways in the hall.

You run through your own nightly routine, then make your way back to Jack’s room to say goodnight. You find Aaron with his son settled on his lap as he reads, and Ollie is settled on his favorite boy’s lap, purring up a storm. Your boyfriend is absentmindedly scratching his chin, pausing only to turn to the next page in the book. Then Aaron shifts to hold the book with both hands, and Ollie bats at his arm until he relents and resumes petting him. He looks up to find you standing in the doorway, the ghost of a smirk twitching at your lips, and you mouth, You are so a cat person.

He smiles back and shakes his head in response, refusing to give in.

…and the 1 time he finally did.

When you open the front door, you’re surprised to find the house dark. Given your shared line of work and healthy dose of paranoia, you and Aaron always leave at least one light on when the house is empty. But then you hear Jack giggle, “She’s coming!” and Aaron quietly shushing him, and a smile graces your face at whatever adorable surprise awaits you.

You flip on the light to find the foyer decorated with balloons dancing across the ceiling and streamers hanging down, each one adorned with pictures of you and Aaron, you and Jack, and your little family together. Your eyes immediately well up with tears seeing all the memories you’ve created and thinking about all the love you’ve been blessed with thanks to this family.

You walk through, awestruck, touching the Polaroids and printed pictures as you pass them. By the time you reach the living room and your eyes settle on Aaron with Jack standing pressed against his leg, your little boy holding your cat in his arms, you’re damn near sobbing.

“This is why you sent me to get my nails done, huh?” you ask through a half sniffle, half laugh. “You boys certainly were busy.”

Aaron smiles at you and holds out his free hand, and you grab onto him like a lifeline, letting him pull you in before bending down to press a flurry of kisses along Jack’s squishy cheeks. Ollie lets out a squeak of protest in the same timbre as Jack’s ticklish giggle, and you relent your attack with a pleased grin.

“Jack has a very important question to ask you,” Aaron murmurs, then winks at his son.

Jack raises Ollie up as high as he can, not unlike the scene out of The Lion King, and a glint of light flashes at you from your cat’s collar.

“Aaron,” you breathe out, moments before Jack excitedly asks, “Will you marry us, Y/N?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer softly, looking up at Aaron as if he hung all the stars in the sky to find your adoring gaze reflected in his eyes.

—————

Lying in bed that night tangled up between the sheets and Aaron’s legs, you absentmindedly trail your fingers across his chest and muse, “Mighty interesting that a vehemently self-proclaimed not cat person would use a cat to propose, isn’t it?”

“You’re still on this, hm?” he murmurs from above you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Merely making an observation,” you answer back lazily, then roll over until you body is nestled between his legs, your hands pressed against his chest so you can look at him directly. “I lied, I’m still on this,” you concede with a playful grin. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you’re not a cat person, Aaron Hotchner.”

He hums, then leans up to capture your lips in a series of soft, slow kisses that nearly make you forget your name, let alone the challenge you’ve posed. “Can’t do that, honey,” he finally admits between pecking your lips.

“Cause you are!”

He laughs, his fingers ghosting up and down your spine. Aaron notices you shiver under his touch and pulls the sheets up higher on your body while you settle against the warmth and security of his broad chest. “Honestly, I have been since day one.”

“Oh yeah?” You attempt to goad him, but your sass come out muffled thanks to your lips pressed to his skin.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if you haven’t been lovingly arguing about this for over a year now. “He was your cat, and I’m a you person.”

Pushing against him to stretch up and level him with a raised eyebrow, you clarify, “Wait. He was my cat?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now Ollie’s ours.”

“Everybody thinks you’re such a hardass, but you’re really a big teddy bear, Aaron,” you tease before pressing your lips to his.

“I’m admittedly both,” he concedes with a chuckle, pausing to kiss you again before adding, “and a reformed cat person.”

—————

[A/N: I absolutely adored writing these two and I enjoyed getting to sprinkle in a healthy dose of cat puns 😂 Thank you all for reading!]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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drowninginblox · 2 months

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HideDuo HCs bc we are going through it

The March drought is getting to me y'all. I don't know about all y'all but the anniversary isn't the best thing ever, especially with the Hatsune Miku incident.

I think we deserve a little treat for being dedicated to our favorite roommates. Hence these ramblings.

The following applies to the OSMP characters, not actual streamers themselves. This is gonna be very all over the place, overall cursed, and is projecting. I hope yall enjoy-

Fit:

Can play any sport, but hates all of them (except for ice skating, he fucking loves it but he'll never admit it and he can't skate for shit)

Has read fanfiction before

Knows about dreamsmp lore but doesn't know what it all means in context, very much "Did you know a guy fucked a salmon and had a fox as a child?" "He started a country later? The fish fucker???"

Is into more fru fru coffee drinks than he lets on. Like- fuck yea 9/10 times that mother fucker be drinking that shit black, but he loves some good pumpkin spice- tooty fruity-cuchie deluci frappuccino. He'd only give in around sunny tho.

Was a smoker for a hot minute, quit tho when the ashes nearly lit a TNT. Hasn't picked it up since

Is a slut for pig step

Has read The Art of War

Had a celebrity crush on Philza. He still has it but it's defo diminished since he knows him personally.

Showers daily. I don't care that he's a war-torn mf, that man loves taking showers and will never pass up the opportunity to get one.

Has a poster of Miku Binder Jefferson. Someone gave it to him as a secret Santa present and he has no idea who or what to do with it. He's tempted to burn it but he's kind of afraid of it. It's so cursed that it shows up in his nightmares.

He thinks about Forever a lot more than he wants to admit. He's afraid of the possibility of turning into a monster since he was exposed to the black concert a lot. He understands the fear is irrational since it was long ago but the intrusive thought lingers.

He's thought about marriage in general and with Pac. He'd never admit it but he planned out everything from the venue to the music to the vows. He'd easily swipe it all away if Pac said he had an idea of what he wanted it to be like.

is fluent in Morse code

Knows sign language

Hearing aids mf

Has a family somewhere out there, one that he lost or left only to be dumped into TB2T

Loves crosswords, especially during breakfast and right after Ramon goes to bed.

His favorite smell is cinnamon and cocoa butter

Believes in Herobrine

Can't do long division to save his life

Hates the sound of Velcro

Pac:

Likes the Pacman TV show

Smells like cinnamon and cocoa butter

Has too many scars from the cats he's owned over the years.

Married Mike for tax reasons in the past. They play it up that they're bitter divorcés from time to time

Doesn't shower as often as he should, not because he hates it but because he has a long routine and enjoys baths far more

Enjoys tea and coffee equally

Was a homestuck fan (yesIFUCKINGDIDTHATTOHIMWHATAREYAGONNADO???)

Gay awakening was Rufio from Hook

watches Reading Rainbow as an adult

paints on his prosthetic all the damn time

Has a Post-it note collection. He barely uses them but he has a rainbow of them and each color represents a member of the island.

Has a sticker collection

Always carries small snacks for his pocket dude (I heard about this through the wiki, apparently Pac has a pocket boy? If not then he does now lmao) mostly gummy bears and crackers

Is afraid of the ocean. Idk why that just sounds right for him and if it is it recontextualizes the date he had w fit lol

knows Morse code

Knows some phrases in American sign language (fit is teaching him / is learning for fit, whichever is cuter)

Has hacked into a government-locked server, left lobster porn in place of any files he took. Idk which government it was or why he did it, but he did and they haven't recovered since

Is the type to listen to Jon Bellion and Talor Swift. No, i will not elaborate

Has very vivid daydreams. Aside from drugs and PTSD, he has some really nice ones all on his own. Mostly about Fit tbh.

#hideduo #fitpac #qsmp fitmc #pactw #fitmc #qsmp #qsmp headcanons #headcanon #Hideduo headcanons #i am unhinged

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n0cturna1-m3 · 1 year

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Good Boy | Bottom Simon "Ghost" Riley x Top Male Reader | Smut

Fem/Minors DNI

Warnings; Descriptions of wounds, medical descriptions, blood (non sexual), anal fingering, hand jobs, multiple orgasms, smut is short bc i got impatient, probably masochism

A/N; This was inspired by a post i saw but i forgot the link so good luck 🙏 enjoy because im just glad this is FINISHED bc i was stuck man

3.4k words

Y/N was in the middle of scrubbing his hands clean in preparation for whichever unlucky soul was to walk through the door of the medical unit next. He had a pit in his stomach from a messy and unfavourable amputation, but he swallowed it down, splashing his face with cold water before drying his hands.

The door fumbled open and two familiar faces stepped in, one with a limp and a makeshift tourniquet while the other supported him.

“Soap, Ghost. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Y/N teased, walking over to them and eyeing them up, specifically Ghost and the blood-soaked pant leg on his right thigh.

“L.T. got in a spot of trouble and ended up with this monster. We did what we could but figured you’d appreciate the visit,” Soap said. Y/N hummed and outstretched his arms.

“I’ll take him from here.” Soap hummed and transferred Ghost to his waiting arms, supporting him against his side with a strong arm around his waist and slinging Ghost’s arm over his shoulders. He had nearly melted into Y/N’s warmth.

Since his first encounter with the medic, who usually accompanied them on the field but was set back for this particular mission, he had felt comfortable around him. Strangely so. He would often find himself in Y/N’s lithe fingers, whether it be fishing out a bullet or patching up a few bruises and cuts. He felt a little warmer around him. Y/N would always treat him kindly after patching him up, putting time aside to aid him in cleaning the wound and other things. The gestures always left Ghost feeling giddy, and eager to be pampered by Y/N the next time he was to be injured. It occasionally left Ghost’s subconscious to make him a little less cautious, a subtle urge to be hurt just enough to see the warm, wide smile that Y/N often sported around him.

Y/N was always more than happy to care for Ghost. He was quiet and didn’t cause trouble, stomached through whatever he had to without whining about it. Not only being a favourable patient, but he also was charming and his sense of humour was just as dark as the rest of him, and Y/N couldn’t have found it any more attractive if he tried. Ghost was good company, and Y/N often found himself in his presence when he was able. A subtle fascination in both parts.

“So, how’d you get this?” Y/N asked as he pulled on a pair of gloves and a mask.

“Got caught off guard, bastard dragged me down and dragged his knife down,” Ghost responded, watching Y/N gather various things from his little station.

“Mm, doesn’t sound fun,” he said. He turned around and grabbed a large pair of shears, pulling a rolling tray table with him. “You wanna be up or down?”

“I’d prefer to sit up,” Ghost said. He shifted where he sat as Y/N pulled a stool in front of him and sat down. He pulled Ghost’s legs open and eyed the tourniquet, Ghost’s breath hitching from the action. He felt vulnerable with Y/N hunched over between his legs, albeit for a laceration.

“I’m gonna take this off, then I’ll have to cut open your trousers to get the wound easier,” Y/N explained as he placed the shears between his knees before reaching up to fumble with the knot. He undid it quickly, tugging off the device and tossing it to the side. He grabbed the shears again and pulled at the sticky, blood-soaked fabric that clung to Ghost’s skin. He flinched as the cold metal of the scissors touched his skin, the rather loud sound of the fabric parting filling their little corner as Y/N sliced open the pants and pulled them open. He had to roll up his boxers a bit to see the entirety of the wound.

Finally getting a good look at the laceration, Y/N grimaced slightly. It was very red, dried and wet blood mixing grotesquely. It was about 7 centimetres long and more than 4 centimetres deep, the muscle throbbing painfully.

“Good news, it’s not infected yet,” Y/N said as he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and a wad of gauze. “Bad news, this is gonna hurt like a bastard.”

Without warning, Y/N dumped the liquid onto the wound, immediately pressing the gauze to it. He always did things swiftly and abruptly when it came to quick and painful actions, and Ghost was one of the poor victims of this borderline assault. Ghost grunted in pain, one hand shooting out and grabbing Y/N’s wrist tightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he winced, closing the cap to the alcohol.

“Give me a warning next time, you arse,” Ghost growled, gritting his teeth. He loosened his grip on Y/N’s wrist and gave him a warm smile of gratitude. It made Ghost’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N worked quickly on wiping the area tenderly and preparing a syringe of a numbing solution.

“You ready?” he asked, looking into Ghost’s pretty brown eyes.

“I s’pose so,” he grumbled back.

“Do you want something to bite?”

Ghost thought for a moment and shook his head, instead grabbing the edges of the bed and squeezing. Y/N mumbled something under his breath and carefully grabbed a chunk of muscle from Ghost’s thigh and inserted the needle. He grunted at the sting and the warm feeling of the numbing agent seeping under his skin.

“It’ll take a few minutes to start working,” Y/N said, discarding the needle and syringe in a contaminant container. Y/N sat back on his stool in front of Ghost and looked at him. “You know,” he started, scanning Ghost’s vest. He reached for it and began removing it. “For someone so careful on the field, you sure do seem to come to me often.”

Ghost helped him remove his vest and discarded it beside him.

“Why do you think that is, Y/N?” he inquired, tilting his head at Y/N. He gave him a Cheshire grin.

“You want my honest answer?”

“Well, now I'm not sure.” He had a small smirk under his balaclava and mask, but the slight crinkle in the corner of his eyes gave him away.

“I think that you're quite fond of me, lieutenant.”

Ghost stared at him for a moment, biting his lip nervously. “What are you implying?” he finally asked.

“You’ve got a soft spot for me,” Y/N responded. He poked beside the wound with his finger and glanced at Ghost. “Does that hurt?”

“Can’t feel a thing.”

“Good.” He grabbed a needle and thread and began quickly suturing a laceration closed while Ghost watched him.

His fingers were nimble as he worked, and the stitches weren't sloppy. He quickly finished stitching him up and secured the end with a knot.

“There you go, big guy. All stitched up,” he said, patting Ghost’s good thigh. Ghost looked at him longingly, his mind wandering for a moment. “What’s with those puppy eyes?”

He blinked and stopped breathing for a moment. Y/N was in between his legs, his elbows on each of Ghost’s knees with his hands and forearms dangling between his thighs.

“What?” he asked dumbly. Y/N let out a breathy laugh and lifted a hand to motion towards his face.

“You look like a puppy with your big eyes,” he said. Ghost stared at him, a sudden pang in his chest of worry. “It’s cute.”

“Thank you,” Ghost said quickly. He leaned forward and Y/N smiled at him again.

“Do you want help getting to your room?” Ghost definitely didn't need help in walking to his room. He was more than capable of returning by himself. But the thought of Y/N’s arm around him made him feel warm inside. He nodded, and Y/N stood up, quickly discarding his gloves. He grabbed Ghost’s vest in one arm and helped him up with the other. Ghost draped his arm over Y/N’s shoulders, and Y/N grabbed his hand to pull more of his body weight onto him. “Christ, you’re feckin’ heavy.”

“All the more to love,” Ghost blurted, his ears burning at the realisation of what he said. Y/N snickered and held his waist tighter. Ghost held in a grunt and grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly.

The walk to the Living Barracks was slow and tedious, as Ghost seemed to be making Y/N’s job much harder. Y/N stumbled through the door to Ghost’s room and sighed in exasperation. It was tidy, with minimal decoration and two beds on either wall. The right side had a metal wardrobe pushed against it, slotting between the bed and the wall. The left side had a desk and chair with scattered papers and pens on it.

“Who sleeps with you?” Y/N asked as he walked to the right side, assuming it was his because of the black balaclava on a small side table beside the tidy bed. Y/N sat him down and sighed in relief, walking to the desk and placing Ghost’s vest on it.

“Nobody,” he said, watching as Y/N sat on the bed opposite of him. He hummed and looked back at Ghost.

“Your room is nicer than mine. We have bunk beds, and he’s a loud sleeper. He stole the top bed and tosses and turns, so it squeaks constantly. and He’s messy,” Y/N ranted. He tapped his fingers against the mattress. His eyes wandered the room to familiarise himself with the space. There was a small window in between the beds, a curtain cutting most of the light. “Oh, that’s right.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Your pants,” he said, standing up to walk to the wardrobe.

“I can dress myself, it’s fine,” Ghost responded, getting off his bed and moving towards it. Y/N huffed as he watched him open the door and rummage through it.

“You wanted help getting here,” Y/N began, walking up behind ghost and placing his hands on his shoulders, “but you seem to be walking fine.”

Ghost faltered in grabbing a pair of sweatpants, his fingers twitching around the fabric as he was caught in his lie.

“You should shower,” Y/N said, stepping away from Ghost and instead sitting on his bed. “You smell like death.” Ghost scoffed and grabbed a black t-shirt, a pair of socks, a bar of soap, and a towel. Y/N grabbed the balaclava from the side table and tossed it to him. He mumbled thanks and walked out the door, pausing before closing it.

“Will you be here when I come back?” he asked.

Y/N chuckled and said, “Sure, big guy.”

The door closed, and he flopped back on the bed, stretching out his limbs before going limp and closing his eyes. Ghost quickly made his way to the showers and turned on the bright lights of the empty room, placing his clothing on a bench. He quickly stripped himself of his dirty clothes and discarded his balaclava and mask, taking his towel and bar of soap with him to a stall and shutting the curtain. He turned the knob and ice-cold water poured out of the shower head.

Flinching at the cold water that hit his skin, Ghost took a shaky breath and dropped his head to let it wet his hair. His wound was still somewhat numb, but the ache was starting to settle in. The water washed away the grime of his mission, and it left Ghost feeling content. He rubbed the soap between his hands to gather some of the foam and began washing his body, a rising heat settling in his stomach rapidly.

“Fuck…” he moaned breathlessly, running a hand down his stomach to stroke his half-hard cock slowly.

Y/N waited patiently for Ghost to return, fumbling with his fingers while scanning the room. He hummed and sat up to take off his scrubs, pulling the top over his head and leaving a tight, long-sleeved turtleneck. He left his pants on, seeing as they were more like sweats rather than uncomfortable shirts.

He flopped back on Ghost’s bed and sighed. He’s gonna use up all the hot water at this rate, Y/N thinks. The door finally opens and Ghost walks in, his eyes clean of the makeup that usually covers them.

“Took you long enough,” Y/N snorts. Ghost huffs and sits down on the foot of his bed. “It’s dark out now, you really do take a while.”

“I don’t usually,” he said, eyeing Y/N as he sat up and moved to lean on the wall with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

“Ah! I just remembered.” Y/N sat up and grabbed his shirt from the floor, reaching into the breast pocket and pulling out a small tube. “Take off your pants.”

“What?” Y/N raised his eyebrows at him.

“I want to put this on the wound. It’ll help numb it a bit and work as an antibiotic,” he said. “Do you not want it or..?”

Suddenly Ghost’s stitches were throbbing painfully. Something to numb it, even slightly, had him immediately perk up.

“No, no I want it,” he grumbled, sitting up and shuffling his sweats down his thighs, pulling them to be just above his knees. “That good enough?”

“Yup.”

Y/N crouched between Ghost’s legs again, rolling his boxers up his thigh. Ghost felt himself twitch at the feeling of Y/N’s cold hands on his skin, leaving a warm burning sensation in their wake.

He opened the cap and poured a generous amount of the ointment onto his pointer and index finger, closing it and setting it beside Ghost before tenderly smearing it onto the wound. Ghost watched him nervously, silently praying that the other man wouldn’t be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest, or in his-

“You okay?” Y/N asked, snapping Ghost out of his head.

“Yeah,” he said. His thighs were trembling slightly, and Y/N gazed up at him with a twinge of suspicion.

“Are you sure?” he prodded, splaying his hands flat on either of Ghost’s thighs while looking up at him. Ghost nearly gasped at the contact. It wasn’t much, but to him, it felt like the most intimate moment in his life.

“I-” Ghost sputtered. Y/N’s expression shifted to that of curiosity. “Yeah,” he croaked.

Y/N hummed and rubbed Ghost’s thighs with his thumbs before letting one hand reach up to hold Ghost’s chin.

“Okay then,” He pulled away from Ghost entirely and stood up, “I’ll be leaving then. It’s about time for dinner,” he said, walking towards the door.

Ghost reached out and grabbed one of Y/N’s forearms, the latter turning to look at him with faux disinterest.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Y/N mocked, facing Ghost again and grinning down at him like a wolf.

“Fuck, don’t leave me like this, you bastard,” he rasped.

Y/N smiled and placed himself between Ghost’s legs again, setting his hands on his thighs. He reached up to push Ghost’s balaclava up to his nose and leaned in, their lips brushing together and breaths mixing.

“Tell me to kiss you,” Y/N said, resting his fingertips on Ghost’s jaw. His breath hitched and he brought his hand up to hold the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Kiss me.” Y/N quickly pressed his lips against Ghost’s, humming with contentment as his eyes fluttered shut. He tilted his head slightly and guided Ghost to lay on his back, pinning him against the bed with his body.

Y/N pulled Ghost’s pants down completely and tossed them to the side before rubbing his inner thigh, just beside his wound. He moved his hand to palm at Ghost’s cock through his boxers before sliding it under the fabric. He touched him lightly, just grazing his fingertips over his length.

Ghost grunted and bit Y/N’s lip, pulling at it with his teeth and licking it after. He winced and let his mouth hang open, Ghost taking the opportunity to let his tongue slide into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Y/N mumbled, closing his hand around Ghost’s cock. He began stroking him slowly, rubbing the tip and collecting the precum that gathered there, spreading it down his shaft.

Rutting up into Y/N’s hand, Ghost moved his hands to grab at his shirt, pulling him against himself even more, a silent plea to be closer. Y/N obliged by removing himself from Ghost’s lips, instead planting kisses on his neck and letting his other hand run down to join his other around Ghost’s cock.

Ghost moaned as Y/N locked his fingers around his dick and started fist-fucking him, a burning sensation spreading from the head of his cock to the pit of his stomach. He bared his neck for Y/N, the latter digging his teeth into the pale flesh. Red teeth marks paired with deep maroon hickeys quickly littered his skin.

His breath hung heavy as he approached orgasm, rolling his hips up into Y/N’s tight grip. He dug his fingers into Y/N’s hair and pulled, holding his breath when he came, thick white strips spilling from the head of his cock and covering his stomach. Some of it reached as high as his chest from how hard he came.

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpered. Y/N continued to work his hands up and down his erection despite the overstimulation. “Wait a minute, please.”

Y/N hummed and kissed his cheek, slowly stopping and removing his hands from Ghost’s flushed cock. His chest heaved as he attempted to regain his breath while Y/N ran his hands up and down his torso, spreading his cum on his skin.

He pulled away from Ghost and hoisted his lower half onto his lap, taking in the sight of his stretched hole. He took his cum covered fingers and pressed them against Ghost’s entrance, slowly pushing them inside. The slight burn of the mostly dry stretch left him breathless, clenching around him and moaning. Y/N gazed at Ghost’s ass, utterly enthralled with the way he squeezed him.

“Fuck, do you even know how sexy you are?” Y/N asked. The blush under Ghost’s mask told a thousand stories, and he almost wanted Y/N to see it. To see how his words affected him. How he affected him just by being HIM.

“Stop,” he muttered. Y/N curled his fingers in response, brushing his prostate. “Ah, shit, right there,” he moaned.

Y/N smiled at him and pressed against the soft spot inside of him, pushing Ghost closer to the edge once more. He leaned down to kiss him again, softly and slowly. Ghost grabbed at Y/N’s shoulder as he neared orgasm again, pulling him into a tight hug.

Tears welled in his brown eyes, the heat in his groyne spreading rapidly through his core again.

“Shit, oh, fuck,” he gasped, his little breathy moans being swallowed up by Y/N’s mouth and tongue. “Fuck!” He was crying now, hot tears spilling from his eyes. He threw his head back and slapped a hand over his mouth, Y/N taking the invitation to suck more hickeys onto his skin. His other hand moved to stroke his dick again, pulling at it languidly. It was wet and hot, practically burning in his hand.

“You gonna cum?” Y/N asked. Ghost nodded, digging his fingers into his cheeks. “Good boy…”

That alone was enough to send him over the edge. Ghost curled into himself and shook as he came again, a cry ripping from his throat. Y/N continued his motions, slowly jerking him off and thrusting his fingers in and out while kissing his neck.

“Such a good boy,” he praised. His breath tickled. Ghost’s chest heaved rapidly as he came back down to earth, legs shaking. Y/N sat up and removed his hands from Ghost’s body, admiring him from where he sat. His eyes wandered to his stitches, and he winced at the sight of the angry red wound. “You nearly burst your stitches.”

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