#I NEED IDEAS PLSS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kxsagi · 1 month ago

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bllk boys as protective girl dads plss🙏🤭‼️

“𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝: 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧”

a/n: YES!!!

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, aiku oliver, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

he’s nervous as hell. he’s been mentally preparing for this day since she was born. read parenting books. watched TED Talks. even asked bachira for advice (bad idea).

when the doorbell rings, isagi opens it like he’s facing a final boss. his smile is forced. his eyes are analyzing every molecule of the poor boy.

“hi! i’m yoichi. her father. her only father. her first love. the man who taught her how to ride a bike, tie her shoes, and dodge creeps.”

he sits him down for a “casual” talk that feels like a college entrance interview.

“so, what are your career goals?”

“sir, i’m sixteen.”

“oh. so no plan. interesting.”

shows him highlight reels of his matches while staring directly into his soul.

“this was my blue lock goal against japan’s U-20. see how i crushed that man’s dreams? fun fact: i still know his name and address.”

when the kid reaches for the salt at dinner, isagi instinctively intercepts it like a midfielder and hands it over slowly. he’s in defense mode all night (despite being a striker).

ends the night by pulling him aside like, “look. she’s my baby girl. if you touch her heart the wrong way, i’ll treat you like a soccer ball. and i haven’t missed a shot since i was 17.”

itoshi rin

absolutely hates that this is happening. told your daughter six years ago that boys were banned until she turned 30.

she threatened to bring the boy home while he’s at work. rin took the whole week off.

opens the door dead silent, staring at the kid like he’s a crime scene.

doesn’t speak for the first fifteen minutes. just lurks. behind doors. in hallways. watching. judging.

finally breaks the silence with: “what’s your GPA.”

doesn’t wait for the answer. “not good enough.”

offers the boy water, and when he says yes, rin just replies, “figures.”

aggressively peels an apple with a knife while maintaining eye contact.

“listen. she’s not just my daughter. she’s her own person. and if you mess with her, i’ll remind you why i’m feared on and off the pitch.”

“you play soccer too, sir?”

“no. i play with fear.”

daughter drags him away mid-threat, muttering “you’re so dramatic.”

rin, still glaring: “i’m being merciful.”

itoshi sae

acts like he doesn’t care. shrugs when your daughter tells him she’s bringing her boyfriend.

but fifteen minutes before the kid arrives, he changes into his most expensive shirt, slicks his hair back, and lights a candle “for ambiance.”

opens the door with that sae smile. soft, polite, terrifying. fake.

“welcome. don’t mind the cameras. they’re just for insurance purposes.”

takes the boyfriend to the living room and offers him sparkling water like it’s a talk show.

“so. tell me. what are your intentions with my daughter?”

“uh…we just hang out and stuff.”

“hmm. you ‘hang out’ with royalty?”

casually roasts the kid for every answer.

“you’re a sophomore? cute.”

“you want to study business? adorable.”

ends the night by handing him a detailed contract: “if you’re going to date her, you’ll need to sign this NDA, consent form, and post-breakup damage clause. any questions?”

nagi seishiro

forgets the whole event until the doorbell rings. opens it with a mouth full of chips, wearing a hoodie that says “sleep > people.”

“yo. you the boyfriend? sup boss.”

lets him in and lies back on the couch like it’s nap time.

barely says a word until he sees the kid reach for your daughter’s hand.

suddenly wide awake. sits up like a horror movie character.

“hey. hands. off. my daughter.”

your daughter rolls her eyes. “dad, we’re just sitting.”

“yeah, well, sit apart. air needs space to breathe.”

plays video games with him later, completely silent, except for the moments he whoops his ass and mutters “pathetic.”

“you ever consider a backup plan? like, uh… not dating my daughter?”

the boyfriend stutters. nagi yawns.

“don’t take it personal. just don’t make me get up again. ever.”

mikage reo

acts like he’s hosting the met gala. wears a suit. sets the table. lights mood candles.

“this dinner is just to determine if you’re worthy. no pressure.”

offers the kid wine, then dramatically says, “just kidding, you’re underage. see? already testing your judgment.”

asks him about his financial plans like he’s hiring a CEO.

“so. do you invest?”

“uh. in like… snacks?”

gives a 20-minute slideshow about his daughter’s achievements and how she deserves the best. every slide ends with: “can you match this energy?”

subtly brags about the family trust fund, then smiles and says, “so if you ever think of breaking her heart… just know I have money. and lawyers.”

when your daughter scolds him, reo winks.

“i’m just protecting my ROI: return on inheritance.”

kaiser michael

answers the door like he’s greeting a servant.

stares the boyfriend up and down with his arms crossed.

“you’re the one? huh. i pictured someone taller. and with… better taste in shoes.”

drags the kid to his home office, where there’s a huge photo of his daughter framed like the mona lisa.

“you see this? this is perfection. if you ever make her cry, i will personally make sure your life becomes a 24/7 documentary called ‘where did it all go wrong.’”

keeps flexing his player stats while casually insulting the boyfriend.

“you play a sport? no? then what exactly do you do?”

tries to outdo the boyfriend in everything. laughs louder. lifts heavier. wears cologne that could knock out a horse.

when he leaves, kaiser grins at your daughter.

“don’t worry. he won’t last a month. he said he liked pineapple on pizza. oh, and he can’t speak german. instant disqualification.”

shidou ryusei

is way too calm when he finds out. smiles. says “cool.”

and then sharpens a knife for no reason.

greets the boyfriend like a demon in disguise. shirtless. tattoos out. casually eating cereal from a beer mug.

“yo, you the punk trying to date my little girl?”

pulls him into a bro hug and whispers: “if you kiss her before i say it’s okay, you’re dead.”

slaps his back so hard the kid almost collapses.

makes the boyfriend sit through a slideshow of his red cards and fights.

“this one? i broke a guy’s nose. cute, right?”

and then just flips the vibe. “but if you hurt her, i won’t just break your nose. i’ll ruin your whole career. even if you don’t have one yet. i’ll create one just to destroy it.”

the boyfriend leaves early. shidou shrugs.

“meh. he wasn’t even hot.”

karasu tabito

takes it way too seriously. wears sunglasses indoors. chewing gum. holding a baseball bat “just in case.”

opens the door like he’s interrogating a suspect.

“name. age. GPA. zodiac sign. shoe size. go.”

laughs at the boyfriend’s nervous answers, but never breaks eye contact.

“you’re funny, man. but not like, ‘ha ha’ funny. more like ‘i’m watching you’ funny.”

ropes the poor boy into a “casual” one-on-one soccer game in the backyard. goes full pro.

“oops, did i slide tackle you? my bad, it’s muscle memory.”

asks invasive questions the whole time.

“have you ever cried at a movie? be honest.”

ends the day by pulling your daughter aside.

“he’s not awful. but if he ever makes you sad, let me know. i got a guy. he handles things.”

aiku oliver

answers the door wearing his best button-up shirt (unbuttoned to the chest, of course), hair slicked, watch on, biceps popping.

instantly goes full pretty-boy intimidation. “so. you’re the brave soul trying to date my daughter.”

smiles way too nicely, like a mafia boss pretending to be a friendly florist.

pulls the kid in for a hug, then leans down and whispers: “i know 17 different ways to make someone cry. without violence.”

during dinner, he makes everything a competition. the boyfriend says he plays guitar? oliver used to be in a band. the boyfriend says he’s in honors classes? oliver once graduated top of his class while half-asleep. “wow, you're good at math? i once calculated the angle of heartbreak. it’s 47 degrees, by the way.”

brings out baby photos and narrates each one like a TED talk. “here she is at 3. we had to buy seven unicorn plushies because one wasn't enough. you ready for that kind of emotional commitment, champ?”

your daughter: “DAD–”

as the boyfriend is leaving, oliver walks him to the door with a hand on his shoulder. still smiling. still terrifying.

“listen, she’s the most incredible person i know. if she’s happy with you, great. but if she’s not? i will make your life a full-length drama. critically acclaimed. zero award nominations.”

and as the poor guy walks off, shaken, oliver yells after him, “BYE SON! DRIVE SAFE! DON’T TEXT AND BREATHE!”

ness alexis

greets the boyfriend with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hello! i’ve heard so much about you.”

he has not. he hacked his daughter’s phone to find out.

speaks so sweetly. guides him in. offers tea. but underneath? pure jealousy and panic.

sits between them on the couch like a chaperone from the 1800s.

“so! what made you think you were good enough for my baby girl?”

“sir?”

“oh nothing, just asking!” 😊

clutches his daughter’s hand every few minutes like he’s reminding them both she’s his little princess forever.

follows the boyfriend on all socials. scrolls for hours.

“you posted a girl emoji under another girl’s post in 2022. care to explain?”

when he leaves, ness gives him a cheerful wave. “bye-bye! don’t do anything dumb! i will know!”

turns to his daughter the second the door closes: “i don’t like him. his aura’s off. we’re doing a background check tomorrow.”

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izzih22 · 14 days ago

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more jealous paige plss

Claim You

Note: yall just love some jealous Paige… me too

The bass thumped low in Paige’s chest, and the lights of the crowded bar cast streaks of color across flushed faces and glittering drinks. UConn had just clinched a gritty win, and the team had swarmed Ted’s for a rare night out. Paige hadn’t wanted to go too many people, too many distractions but Azzi had flashed that smile, the one that knocked the breath from Paige’s lungs every time. So here she was. Watching.

Watching her.

Azzi was laughing. Loose, head back, glowing. And he was standing too close. Some guy in a Celtics jersey who had no idea what kind of fire he was playing with.

Paige saw his hand brush Azzi’s lower back when he leaned in to say something, saw Azzi smile polite, step away slightly. Paige’s grip tightened around her drink. The straw bent in half. Her jaw clenched.

She knew she didn’t have to worry. Knew Azzi loved her. Knew they’d been them since they were sixteen. But none of that mattered right now. Right now, Paige’s blood was running hot, and all she could think was:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

She slammed her drink down and crossed the bar in five sharp steps, not caring who was watching. Azzi turned at the last second, surprise flashing across her face.

“Paige—?”

Paige didn’t answer.

She just grabbed her by the wrist, firm but gentle, threading their fingers together before tugging her away from the crowd. Azzi stumbled to keep up, her eyes wide, heart already racing. The guy started to say something, but Paige didn’t even turn around.

They barely made it out the door before Azzi stopped her.

“Baby—what was that?”

Paige didn’t let go. She turned, the jealousy still burning behind her eyes, but now tangled with something hungrier. Hotter.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Azzi blinked. “Get what?”

“That I don’t like sharing,” Paige said low, stepping into her space. “I don’t like guys thinking they even have a shot. I don’t like someone else making you laugh like that.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat. “It was just small talk.”

“I don’t care.” Paige’s voice dropped, thick with heat. “You’re mine.”

And just like that, she kissed her.

Hard. Possessive. Fingers slipping into Azzi’s hair, the other hand splayed against her lower back, pulling her flush. Azzi gasped into her mouth, momentarily stunned, then melted completely into Paige.

The door to Ted’s was still swinging shut behind them, but Paige didn’t stop. Didn’t give Azzi time to overthink. Just walked her backward toward the car with kisses that tasted like jealousy and hours of restraint snapping.

Azzi could barely keep up. “Paige—”

“Get in.”

Her voice had dropped into something dangerous. Something only Azzi got to see. Azzi smirked.

By the time the car door slammed shut behind them, Paige was already on her, lips crashing again like she couldn’t wait another second. Azzi didn’t want her to.

She wanted all of her.

Wanted to feel what it meant to be Paige’s.

Every kiss said it. Every breath. Every tug of fabric and whispered curse and desperate moan between the moments when their mouths weren’t touching. Azzi tangled her fingers in the front of Paige’s hoodie, clinging, gasping, needing—

And Paige gave. All fire and hands and a low voice murmuring, “Let me show you who you belong to.”

⸻

Later, when Azzi was curled up on Paige’s lap in the back seat, hair messy and cheeks still flushed, Paige pressed her lips to her shoulder and said softly:

“You know I trust you, right?”

Azzi smiled, sated and glowing. “Yeah. But I kinda liked you jealous.”

Paige grinned into her skin. “Good. Because you’re mine.”

And Azzi whispered, “Always.”

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd

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bitchface24-7 · 3 months ago

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Do you still do Yandere Viktor or Yandere Jayce? Could you make a dark story about these boys, plss... I don't see much dark fanfic about them

WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: you don't realize how obsessed they are with you. How possessive they are. It isn't until it’s staring you in the face do you realize how depraved your two friends are, and you're kinda into it.

warnings: yandere J and V, kleptomaniac J and V, stalking, thoughts of non-con somnophilia, a touch of non-con somnophilia, dirty fantasies, low-key oblivious R, getting Eiffel towered at the end, Grammarly as me beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. … don't judge me. I did say I'm one of the writers y'all should come to if you want taboo topics done, I'm letting my freak out ok? Ok. Hope y'all enjoy it! ❤️

You've known these two men for quite some time now.

You met Jayce first. You two shared a few classes at the academy and even partnered up a few times for partnered projects. He's sweet, kind, funny, and a teensy bit naive. He's so focused on assignments, studying, and his personal project, that he doesn't see the swath of men and women wanting to get into his pants.

A lot of your classmates and even some of the professors can't stand you. Because if Jayce's work doesn't have his attention— you do. They want the delectability of Jayce Talis all for themselves, instead he's giving it all to you.

(And eventually Viktor.)

You stayed in Jayces dorm room more often than your own. Eventually, you just kinda… moved in unintentionally.

Both your clothes shared a closet and a dresser, your fragrances joined Jayces, your toothbrushes sat in the same cup together. It was domestic.

You started to notice some of your underwear going missing. But you thought nothing of it. Shit goes missing all the time, the dryer once ate one of Jayce's vests. Your undies are no match.

(What you don't know is that Jayce has them in a box hidden away in his under-the-bed storage system. The same drawers you have on your side of the bed. When he gets the chance— the very few chances he gets, he fucks his cock into your undies. His tight grip caused delicious moans to escape his plump lips. He envisions what you'd look like wearing them, and cums when he envisions you taking them off shyly and spreading your legs. Your sex dripping with its arousal.)

Everything was going well, until the apartment blew up, Jayce went on trial, defended his project and you vigorously, and at the end of it all— lost his research and wasn't banished.

The breath of relief that escaped you was monumental. Then everything else became a blur. You met Heimerdinger’s Assistant Viktor, you broke into his office, you proved Hextexh could work.

Viktor became Jayce’s second partner after that.

And you officially joined the scandal that caused all this mess.

T’was the start of a wonderful friendship!

(full of depravity, thievery, and lust)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce and Viktor work hard, constantly to improve Hextech and to improve the lives of both the citizens of Piltover and Zaun.

You make sure that they also take care of themselves.

You help out in any way you can.

Bouncing ideas off one another, being a second pair of eyes to an equation, ensuring they take time off to eat and sleep. Their shining light in a neverending cloud of darkness.

Jayce has a relatively good sleep schedule.

Viktor's is horrendous.

So much so that you bought a good quality bed hidden away in an alcove of the lab, and a few futons to rest on. Viktor is too determined to continue working. He won’t stop to leave to go back to his tiny apartment for a few hours of sleep.

There have been too many times you've caught him passed out at his desk for you to allow this to keep happening.

So you bargained.

He can stay in the lab as long as he wants, but he needs to get at LEAST six hours of sleep per night.

He fought, he fought hard until you said now everyone has the opportunity to stay overnight at the lab if they get too tired. That working when exhausted leads to more mistakes and injuries. Being able to take a small nap can rejuvenate the mind and get you to solve that mind-numbing problem you couldn't before.

When you added in the puppy dog eyes regarding Viktor’s health… he folded like a wet piece of tissue paper.

(it also helps he gets to see you in pyjamas, all messy and purely you. How you toss and turn at night, how your hair gets all fucked up in the morning because of it. How delicious you are, served on a silver platter without realizing it. Viktor’s been tempted to touch you. When he's still up working and he sees you passed out on the bed. How soft would your skin be? How plump? Are your lips always that tempting? Your legs are devilish, your back desirable, your ass biteable, and your chest begs him to fondle it.

He does. One night he does. He fondles it as lightly as he can. Tweaking your nipples until they're rock hard, a shiver and mewl escaping your lips. He sees you wiggle a bit in your sleep, your thighs clenched together as he continues his assault. When he spots the wet patch on your pyjamas; it's over for him. He quickly whips his dick out and rubs one out. His one free hand leaves your chest and trails down your body, eventually hitting your wet spot. When you moan loudly— a mix of his and Jayces name, he cums. It almost hits you in the face. After that, he has a few ideas he wants to pass by Jayce.)

You can't help but smile as you see how close Jayce and Viktor have gotten over the last few months. You've heard rumours about both men, how they can be standoffish. Sometimes a bit impatient when someone doesn't understand what they're explaining.

But they flow together like one unit— it's incredible to see. Besides, they're always sweet to you, so you take all the rumours you hear with a grain of salt.

Especially the dirty ones.

How they are in bed, what their cocks are like, how they sound, their dirty kinks, how they rock their partner's world. The thing is, both of them have taken partners that look strikingly similar to one person.

You.

Your hair and eye colour, your haircut, your height, your body type. They're going after your doppelgangers. Most recently you heard about them taking their partner at the same time.

(you're NOT jealous)

(… you are so jealous)

And you keep losing things! You don't know how much underwear you have left. Also, your favourite fragrance has… changed. You used at least a quarter of the bottle, and you remember denting the cap when you accidentally dropped it.

Now there's a brand new bottle on the vanity you and Jayce share. You remember asking him what happened to your old bottle but he looked so flustered and could barely put a sentence together that you came to a charming conclusion.

Jayce accidentally broke your old one and got you a replacement as an apology.

You can't help but smile at the flustered man and give him a kiss on the cheek for his sweet actions— you swear you heard him whimper.

(the old bottle never broke. It's in the lab hidden away in his desk in a secret compartment. That way he can spray it in the air when you're not around— and he and Viktor can still smell you.)

That night, when Jayce and Viktor stayed late in the lab, you touched yourself to the thought of them. How sweet they are, how handsome, how sexy. They're all yours, and your greedy little heart couldn't be any happier. You don't even attempt to be quiet, knowing you're the only one at home.

What you don't realize is Jayce and Viktor heard the whole thing. Viktor had quite a bad coughing attack so Jayce decided to take him back to his place to get taken care of. They could sleep for a bit and go back to the lab. Your wonton moans completely derailed that train.

And everything comes crashing down one day in a way you never expected.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next morning as Jayce and Viktor bicker over what to have for breakfast, you accidentally drop your chaptick. Thank god you hadn't opened it yet, but it rolled under the bed on Jayce’s side. Without hesitation, you drop to your knees to get your chapstick— instead you find something else.

A massive box piled high with all your missing undergarments. You stare at the box in shock. You thought they just went missing! The drier ate them! It’s done that before to socks and one time to Jayce's vest! You never even imagined Jayce stealing them.

With a fire in your veins, you go to confront him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That confrontation went horrendously. Jayce felt no shame, Viktor admitted to… appreciating you when you slept in the lab to try to get some heat off of Jayce, that riled you up further, and then Jayce spat out that they both heard you last night touching yourself like a dirty little whore.

That shut you up.

What’s currently shutting you up is Viktor’s cock shoved all the way down your throat as Jayce pounds away at your sensitive hole.

Fuck it feels so good being plugged up on both ends. Jayce grunting and whining as Viktor commands him. His voice low and moans so sweet. You think you’re in your own personalized heaven.

That is until Viktor sets his sights on you again, “You’re not so innocent either. I remember when you left your journal at the lab accidentally. I may have… taken a small peak. Your desires are so perverse my dear. Wanting to sit on Jayce’s face. Have me finger and choke you in the lab. Being tag teamed by the both of us. Then we heard you last night. Panting and moaning out our names, like a slut. So… how’s the real deal compared to your dirty fantasies? I bet you actually liked knowing how desperate we are for you. That Jayce stole your underwear, that I defiled your body as you slept. You moaned so sweetly for me that I almost came on your face.”

Jayce and you both moan loudly at Viktor’s nasty words. The vibrations cause Viktor to hiss through his teeth.

“Viktor… they like that. Holy fuck, they like that a lot. Your words made them clench so fucking hard.”

The smirk Jayce gets in return for those words can only be described as devilish. Before you know it, every dirty thought, fantasy, and kink is said to you.

“I want to litter you with all my marks. My teeth, my bruises, my cum. You're mine. You're Jayce's. You're ours.”

“I want to see what you look like tied up and overstimulated.”

“Jayce has a deep desire to fuck you standing in front of a window. He's droned on and on about it in the lab when you're not there.”

“I want to see you spent, shaking, and crying. One day we'll dedicate a day purely to fuck you.”

You cum, violently. You're shaking, whining, and feel amazing. Jayce cums after you, balls deep inside you as he groans, and Viktor cums last. His balls touch your chin as he shoots his load down your throat.

You're all panting in the king-size bed, spent, and heavily satisfied.

Eventually, you break the silence, “Jayce, what happened to my bottle of,” you gulp a big breath of air, trying to catch your breath, “Eau De Parfum? I assumed you broke it.”

“It's in the lab. We use it every once in a while when we miss you.”

You awe at that, “Creepy, but very sweet.”

“You love us.”

And dammit he's right, you do.

You shouldn't. But you do.

…. send me to horny jail *boNk*

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #jayvik x reader #jayvik x reader smut #viktor smut #jayce smut #banners by cafekitsune #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #banner by cafekitsune #yandere!viktor #yandere!jayce

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teddybeartoji · 1 year ago

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toji is a cat dad. the cat looks so fucking tiny next to him that it's a little comical actually. they spend every morning together – the cat twirls around and between his legs as he's grabbing the food, quietly meowing and purring. toji smiles softly to himself at the little thing's neediness. so cute.

the cat also just loves to follow toji around the apartment. always. he goes to the bathroom? the cat goes to the bathroom. he's cooking in the kitchen? the cat is in the kitchen. he's asleep in the bed? the cat is in the bed. (big man toji stomping around the house with the smallest cat in the world running after him.......... guys i'm melting i'm dying)

ok but he was a little weirded out by the cat's need to be in the bathroom with him lmao. like he's taking a piss and he looks over his shoulder only to find the little kitten just staring up at him with big eyes😭😭😭 toji grumbles under his breath and tries to ignore him but then he ends up looking over his shoulder again, hoping that he left but no. he's still there. sitting like :3 😭😭😭😭

"yer fuckin' weird..." is what toji tells him as he places the cat on the bathroom counter and he just gets a cute meow back as a reply. the cat watches him brush his teeth and toji has to fight the thing because he's now in the sink????? toji needs to spit out the toothpaste but the critter is getting comfortable in the bowl and he actually feels bad abt pushing him away... wahh he's so soft actually guys i can't do this anymore.

if the cat happens to be a big meower, toji's definitely talking back to him. he literally goes "what're ya yappin' about, lil man? 🤨🤨" while looking at the tiny creature. but he loves it, he thinks it's so funny. he picks the little guy up and just stares at him up close O.O (plss the cat is literally like the size of his palm i'm dying it's so cute).

he also likes to carry the cat on his shoulder. i think every cat would actually love toji so much, this is also canon here you cannot argue with me. and i think they'd all find him very comforting? and i think they'd love to sleep on him. so whenever he's cooking and the cat paws at his legs, he just picks him up and places him on his shoulder.

he once did that when shiu was over and he was just ????????? like man what are you doing put the damn cat down ????????? and toji just went. "no. he wants to see." with a blank face. to him it's very obvious. c'mon, the cat is so little, he has no idea what's happening up here, ofc he wants to see??????? smh shiu do better😒😒😒

oh and this was definitely just a stray cat he took in btw. after a long day at work, he was just walking home with a cig between his lips when he heard the teeeniest tiniest little meow coming from behind the dumpster in an alley. and well... the curiosity got the best of him and he went to check it out aaand lo and behold!!!!!!! itty bitty kitty!!!!

big eyes peering up at him behind a thrash bag, he just knew he couldn't leave the poor thing there. he reached out his hand, letting the kitty smell him and he almost dropped his cig when he actually leaned into his touch immediately!!!! that's his baby now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he held the cat to his chest as he made his way home and he even stopped by a little corner store to buy him something to eat. the cashier did look at him with a raised brow bc what the fuck this massive man is holding the smallest cat in the world, but toji didn't mind. he didn't care. the cat slept on his back that very same night.

ALSO. thank u @kentophilia for putting this idea in my head ily<33 during the late hours of the day, toji lays in bed while reading his book with his glasses on – the cat stands on his chest with a determined face. he's already purring even though toji hasn't even done anything. he's just soo comforting and the cat just loves him soooo much okay:((((( toji lowers his book to look at the thing before scratching the top of his head and smiling to himself when the cat closes his eyes and purrs even louder.

the cat ends up trying to make biscuits on him and that makes toji yelp lmao. the tiny little claws dig into his warm skin as the he kneads toji like he's a piece of dough. purring and content – toji doesn't have it in him to make him stop either. it's not like it actually hurts, he was just caught off-guard. he didn't get scared by a cat btw, he didn't. in the end, he keeps reading his book with his one hand while petting the creature with the other. this is their routine. they're family!!!!!!!

anyway. he loves his little kitty cat with all his heart and he would literally kill for him:33333

#TOJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WITH A CAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT #YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #YIIIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #toji #mickey is daydreaming #toji fluff #jjk toji #miji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro fluff

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hoshifighting · 8 months ago

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seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach��who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.

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joelsrose · 9 months ago

Text

Guns & Roses

previous chapter

Chapter 2:

After your tense exchange with Joel, his venomous words hit hard, leaving you taken aback by a sudden wave of insecurity—feelings you thought you had long moved past. Sensing this, Joel begins to question his own actions, unsure of the impact his words have had on you, but the tension between you remains unresolved as you both navigate the emotional distance that continues to grow, unsure of how to bridge the widening gap.

TW: depressive/anxious themes related to emotional abusive/traumatic previous relationships, also this is a slow burn yall so plss be patient i know i want them to be in love right neoowww but first they have to hate each other xxx Also let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list x

The next morning, you lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, your limbs weighed down by exhaustion, but the heaviness in your chest was far worse. Patrol was in an hour, but the thought of moving—of facing the day, of facing him again—felt impossible.

Yesterday had been a disaster—worse than you could have imagined. It wasn’t just that you had nearly died, although that should’ve been enough.

It was Joel—his words.

The way they had sliced through the air, cold and brutal, landing like a blade straight to your chest. You could still hear his voice echoing in your mind, sharp and biting.

“Fucking burden.”

It wasn’t just the insult—it was the way the words felt like something you’d heard before. The familiarity of it. Hearing it brought back memories you’d fought hard to bury. Memories of another time, another voice—his voice, saying the same thing, over and over.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the flood of memories to stop, but it was no use. They slipped through the cracks of your defenses, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. You thought you had buried those moments, locked them up where they couldn’t touch you anymore. But Joel’s words had torn those scars wide open, and now they were bleeding again.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been called a burden. That word had haunted you for years, ever since him—the one who had made you feel small, insignificant.

You had spent years trapped in a relationship where every step you took was wrong, every emotion too much, every need a flaw. He made you feel like a weight around his neck, dragging him down, and every argument ended with him reminding you that you were too needy, too sensitive, too flawed.

A burden.

You believed him. For years, you let those words become your truth. Everything wrong in your life was your fault, and the idea of being loved felt so far out of reach that you stopped hoping for it. Even when you finally found the strength to leave, the damage had already been done. The lies he had planted in your mind were like weeds, tangled in your thoughts, impossible to fully uproot.

Brick by brick, you rebuilt yourself after walking away. You told yourself you were stronger now, that no one would tear you down like that again.

But Joel’s words—delivered with such cold finality—had brought it all crashing down. It was as though he had reached inside and ripped out the deepest, darkest insecurity you had tried so hard to keep hidden.

You tossed and turned, the memory of every moment, every word, replaying on a loop. The way he had looked at you, the anger in his voice, the disgust. It hurt more than it should have, more than you wanted it to. But the truth was, Joel had unknowingly triggered something much deeper.

You curled deeper into the blankets, pulling them tight around you as if they could shield you from the weight of your own thoughts. You weren’t just sad—you were spiraling. Slowly sinking into a pit of doubt, worthlessness creeping back in like poison, the same way it had years ago.

Because the truth was, you had never fully healed. You had put bandages on the wounds, told yourself you were fine, but you had never truly faced the scars. And now, they were unraveling. You blinked up at the ceiling, wondering if you would ever truly escape this feeling—this heavy, suffocating belief that you were always going to be too much. Too much for the people in your life. Too much for anyone to really love, to want.

And Joel? He probably didn’t even care. To him, it was just another day. Another patrol. He’d probably be glad if you called out sick. Glad not to have to deal with you at all.

You thought back to last night, Tommy had come by, knocking gently on your door, his usual wide smile in place.

“How’d patrol go?” he asked, his voice full of warmth, his eyes bright with that familiar, unshakable optimism.

You lied. The words slipped out before you could even think twice.

“It was fine. Nothing much happened.” You even forced a smile, adding something trivial about the snow getting heavier. And Tommy, being Tommy—trusting, kind, always believing the best—had smiled right back. He gave your shoulder a light pat, that easy grin spreading across his face. “Good,” he’d said, clearly relieved. And then he left, looking so genuinely happy that it twisted something deep inside you.

The guilt of lying to him weighed heavily in your chest. But how could you have told him the truth? How could you have explained what had really happened out there with Joel? The things you had both said still lingered in the air, unspoken but present in every breath you took. You couldn’t admit that the person Tommy looked up to—his own brother—had made you feel like nothing, like something broken and worthless.

So you kept the truth buried, hidden behind that forced smile, letting Tommy walk away, blissfully unaware of the weight that had settled on your shoulders. You told yourself it was better this way. Less messy.

Now, as you dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your patrol gear, you couldn’t shake the sense of dread clinging to you like a second skin. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your jacket, wondering if you were making a mistake by going. The tension between you and Joel was thick, palpable, and the thought of spending another second with him made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

But you swallowed it down— the hollow ache in your chest—and forced yourself to leave the house. You told yourself you could get through this day. One foot in front of the other. That’s all you had to do.

•••

The snow was heavier today, thick flakes falling in a relentless flurry, blurring the world into a monochrome haze. It seemed to swallow everything—your surroundings, your thoughts—leaving behind a cold, biting quiet as you trudged toward Joel. The wind was sharp, stinging your skin as you walked, your mind racing with everything that had been left unsaid the day before.

When you finally saw him, standing by his horse, the same hard expression etched across his face, it was as if yesterday had bled straight into today. Nothing had changed. The tension between you was suffocating, thick like the snow that blurred the edges of your vision.

Joel didn’t acknowledge you. Not with a nod, not with a word, just the stiff set of his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. His whole posture was guarded, closed-off, as if he were bracing himself against more than just the cold. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything either, your pride weighing down every word you considered. Instead, you mounted your horse and set off, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath the hooves and the distant howl of the wind.

The cold words from yesterday still hovered between you like a storm cloud, dark and ominous. You thought, for a fleeting moment, about breaking the silence, about reaching across the vast space that had grown between you. But every time you opened your mouth, the weight of your own pride, your hurt, held you back.

And Joel? He seemed just as unwilling. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, his body tense, his lips set in a grim line.

Hours passed as you patrolled deeper into the woods, scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. The snow fell heavier and faster, the wind picking up as it screamed through the trees, the world around you shrinking into a blur of white. By midday, it had grown too much—the path ahead was barely visible, the storm swallowing it whole, the danger in pushing forward palpable.

Joel finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely audible over the howl of the wind. “We need to stop.” His eyes flicked toward the horizon, where the dark silhouettes of trees loomed through the snow, distant and unreachable. “There’s no way we’re making it any further in this.”

His voice, though low, felt like it shattered the heavy quiet that had hung between you all morning. For a second, you met his gaze, the intensity there catching you off guard. It wasn’t just the storm or the danger—it was everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. Everything unsaid. But just as quickly, he looked away, his eyes scanning the snow, the moment slipping away as fast as it had come.

You nodded silently, following Joel’s lead as he steered the horses toward the nearest shelter you could find—a small, weather-beaten outpost nestled at the base of the mountain.

The cabin looked forgotten by time, its roof sagging under the weight of heavy snow, but it was better than freezing to death in the open. The two of you dismounted, still wrapped in the oppressive quiet that had grown between you, tying up the horses in a practiced silence before heading inside. The sudden stillness of the enclosed space was a small mercy, a temporary reprieve from the biting wind.

Inside, it was cramped, the air thick with the stale scent of damp wood and long-forgotten memories. The cabin was barely holding itself together, but at least it was shelter.

The cabin was freezing, the cold seeping into every corner, making the walls feel like they were closing in. You glanced at the fireplace, its hearth blackened from years of neglect, a thick layer of dust coating the stone.

You muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to Joel, "I’m gonna go look for something to light a fire."

Joel didn’t respond. You heard the low groan of the ancient couch as he sat down heavily, the springs creaking under his weight. The fabric was threadbare, worn thin by time and disuse, much like the rest of the cabin. He rubbed his shoulder, his face twisted in discomfort for a brief moment before settling back into his usual unreadable expression. His jaw was clenched, muscles tense, his whole posture tight and closed-off, as if he were bracing himself against more than just the cold.

You glanced at him briefly, your eyes catching on the lines of tension in his face, the way his hands flexed against his knees. But you didn’t linger on it. Joel was always like this—guarded, closed-off, like he was constantly holding something back.

You turned away, letting your eyes scan the small, dilapidated cabin around you. The place had clearly been abandoned for years, and it showed. Broken furniture was shoved into corners, splintered chairs piled against one wall, and shelves sagged under the weight of old, forgotten items that hadn’t been touched in decades. Dust clung to everything like a blanket, thick and undisturbed, the kind of dust that only settles when time forgets.

You ran your fingers absentmindedly across the surface of a rickety table, leaving a streak in the grime. The cold air from outside seemed to have seeped into the very bones of the cabin, giving it a lifeless, hollow feel.

As you rummaged through a crate in the corner, looking for anything useful—something to light a fire, something to stave off the cold—you could hear Joel outside. He had decided to check the area around the cabin, muttering something about seeing if there were any supplies worth bringing back. Old medicine, tools, anything that might have been left behind by whoever last used this place. His heavy footsteps crunched through the snow, fading in and out as the wind howled around the cabin.

You pulled out a few pieces of old, dry wood from the crate, hoping they’d be enough to start a decent fire. A few minutes passed, and you heard Joel's footsteps return. The door creaked open as he stepped inside, bringing with him a blast of cold air.

He grunted, clearly frustrated, as he dropped something heavy onto the floor—a bag or maybe a crate, you weren’t sure. You glanced up briefly, watching as he walked toward an old cupboard in the corner.

“Anything?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral, but there was no answer. Joel was already focused on the cupboard, tugging at the stubborn door, his expression set in that familiar, determined way.

You turned back to the crate, rummaging deeper when suddenly, a loud crash echoed behind you, making you flinch.

“Fucking hell!” Joel’s voice followed, sharp and filled with pain.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you spun around, eyes wide. Joel stood hunched near the cupboard, his body tense, one hand pressed tightly to his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, dark and thick, dripping onto the wooden floor below in a slow, menacing rhythm. The cupboard door hung askew, a jagged shard of glass sticking out from where the door had broken. He must have accidentally shattered it when trying to open it.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” you rushed toward him, panic rising in your chest. Joel grimaced, his face pale, sweat beading on his brow from the pain.

“It’s nothing,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice taut with a mix of irritation and discomfort.

“It’s not nothing, Joel—you’re bleeding,” you replied, your eyes widening as you stepped closer, heart racing. He was leaving a trail of crimson, blood spilling from his hand and staining the floor, a stark contrast to the muted tones of the cabin.

“Just cut myself on the damn glass,” he muttered, his other hand pressed tightly to his chest, trying to staunch the flow. The shallow rise and fall of his breath spoke volumes; he was in more pain than he wanted to admit.

“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing toward the old couch, but Joel shot you a hard look, his eyes narrowing in defiance.

“I don’t need to sit,” he snapped, attempting to step away from you, the stubbornness radiating off him like a palpable force. His body was tense, coiled like a spring, and you could see he was resisting the pain, unwilling to admit he needed help.

You stood your ground, planting yourself in front of him. “You’re bleeding all over the place, Joel. Sit down. Now.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it felt like a standoff. But you refused to back down. His irritation flickered in his eyes, but eventually, he relented with an exasperated grunt, sinking back onto the couch with a wince, the weariness in his posture finally giving way.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and quickly pulled your first aid kit from your pack. Taking a seat next to him, you reached for his hand, but Joel recoiled again, trying to pull it back.

“I can handle it,” he growled, the edge of his voice betraying his discomfort.

You shot him a fierce look, refusing to let his bravado intimidate you. “Can you not be so stubborn for once?”

For a heartbeat, his gaze flickered to yours, something unspoken lingering in the air between you. Finally, he relented, holding his hand out toward you. “Fine,” he muttered, though the annoyance in his tone still hung heavy. “But make it quick.”

You wasted no time, gently pulling his hand forward. His fingers were calloused and rough, the result of years of hard work and struggle, a testament to the life he led.

The cut was nasty—glass had sliced deep, leaving a gash that continued to ooze blood. You pressed a cloth against it, trying to stop the flow.

“Shit,” you muttered, your heart racing as you examined the injury. “I need to suture this,” you mumbled.

Joel shook his head, his face hardening once more. “Like hell you are,” he growled, attempting to retreat again, but you tightened your grip, refusing to let him pull away.

“What, you’d rather let it get infected and fall off?” you shot back, your voice rising slightly in frustration. “Just let me do this, Joel.”

The intensity in his gaze flared for a moment—anger, maybe, but beneath it, there was something softer, a flicker of vulnerability. He seemed to weigh his options before finally relenting. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grabbed a bottle of alcohol from your kit, and without warning, began to clean the wound. The moment the liquid touched the raw flesh, Joel hissed sharply, his body tensing as a stream of curses left his mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” he swore, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep still.

“Sorry,” you muttered, though you didn’t slow down. “But it needs to be disinfected.” You worked quickly, trying to focus despite the tension radiating from him.

With deft hands, you cleaned the wound, your fingers steady even as your heart pounded in your chest. The needle slipped between your fingers like second nature, but the closeness between you both felt anything but routine. Knees brushing, neither of you dared to move, the tension crackling between you. His scent, earthy and warm, mingled with the faint trace of sweat, filled your senses, stirring something. Heat rolled off him, maker it harder to concentrate.

As you worked, Joel sat still, his jaw clenched tightly against the discomfort. The tension in the room was thick. You glanced up at him briefly, catching his gaze as you focused on stitching the cut. There was an intensity there, a flicker of something deeper than just pain.

“Just breathe,” you murmured, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of everything unsaid. You concentrated on your task, the delicate movements of the needle requiring your full attention, but every time you looked up, Joel’s eyes were fixed on you, filled with an intensity you hadn't seen before.

When you tied off the final stitch, a wave of relief washed over you. “There,” you murmured, gently wiping away the last traces of blood. “That should hold. Just try not to move too much,” you added, pressing a bandage over the wound, your fingers lingering for just a moment longer than they should have.

Joel didn’t respond right away, his eyes darting anywhere but toward you, as if the weight of the moment was too much to confront. Finally, he released a slow, ragged breath. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, the single word laden with all the things left unsaid.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the silence settle between you again, heavier this time.

•••

You stayed in the cabin for hours longer, the silence between you and Joel stretching out like an invisible barrier, thick and unspoken. Neither of you had spoken since you’d tended to his hand, but this time, the silence wasn’t charged with anger or frustration.

Instead, it filled you with something much heavier—an aching sadness that settled deep in your chest.

You weren’t sure when it began, but as you sat there, watching the snow fall outside, your mind drifted back to the words Joel had spat at you the day before. The weight of them, the way they had pierced something tender inside you, was impossible to shake. They had stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried—the same feelings that had kept you awake last night, thoughts you couldn't push away no matter how hard you tried. Now, as you stared at the endless white landscape beyond the cabin walls, you felt stuck in that spiral again.

You’d been here before, trapped in a loop of doubt and self-loathing, questioning your worth, your place in this world. Joel’s words had pulled it all back to the surface, like ripping open an old wound that had never truly healed. The silence in the cabin only amplified those thoughts, the quiet making the weight of them impossible to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Joel spoke.

"Seems like the snow’s died down. We should get going." His voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

It was rough, as usual, but there was something different this time—something softer, almost cautious, like he knew the air between you had shifted and wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

You wiped at your cheek, suddenly aware of the tear that had slipped down your face without you realizing.

The sadness that had been pressing down on you felt too heavy to carry now, like it had become too much all at once. You nodded, your voice barely audible as you replied, “Yeah… let’s go.”

For a brief moment, you caught Joel’s gaze. His brows furrowed, his eyes searching your face like he was trying to read something there, something more than the tear. Maybe he saw the pain you were carrying, maybe he didn’t. But for a fleeting second, there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. A hesitation. And then, just as quickly, it was gone. The wall came back up, his expression unreadable once more.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stood, gathering your things with a sigh that felt like it came from the deepest part of you. The exhaustion wasn’t just from the cold or the events of the day—it was from the constant battle you were fighting inside yourself. And in that moment, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up.

The journey back to Jackson was cold and quiet, the only sound between you the steady crunch of snow beneath the horses' hooves. The storm had passed, leaving the world around you still and blanketed in white, as if the entire landscape had been frozen in time.

The ride felt long, each minute dragging on, the cold biting at your skin as the wind whipped through the trees. All you could think about was getting home, sinking into the warmth of your bed, and shutting out the world.

The silence between you and Joel made the journey feel even longer, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders.

Your mind wandered back to the cabin—Joel on the couch, the tension in his face as you tended to his wound. You wondered if he even knew what his words had done to you. At the end of the day, he shouldn’t have said what he did—that much was clear. But deep down, you knew he hadn’t meant for it to cut this deep. He couldn’t have known the depth of the pain his words would unearth, the way they’d pull you back into a spiral of doubt and self-loathing.

When you reached the stables, the familiar routine of tending to your horse became a lifeline, a small anchor in the swirling storm of emotions. The simple motions—loosening the saddle, brushing down the coat—gave your hands something to do, something to hold onto.

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, the unspoken weight of his gaze making your skin prickle. Embarrassment washed over you, creeping up your neck and settling in your chest. He had seen you cry in the cabin, had watched that tear slip down your cheek—and it was enough. That single moment of vulnerability felt like too much, like you had exposed a part of yourself you hadn’t meant to.

You didn’t wait for Joel, even though his presence lingered close by, the soft sounds of his movements cutting through the still air. You could’ve asked how his hand was, could’ve wished him goodnight, maybe even walked home together—it would’ve made sense, living on the same street and all.

Instead, you gathered your things, the silence swallowing the unspoken words as your boots crunched against the snow. Without a backward glance, you walked away, your breath clouding in the cold air, leaving behind nothing but the imprint of your footsteps.

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t have known, was the way Joel’s eyes lingered on you as you walked away. His gaze followed your every step, his expression unreadable, though shadowed by something heavier, something that settled deep in his chest and refused to loosen its grip.

He didn’t call after you, didn’t ask you to wait, even though the words itched at the back of his throat.

Instead, he stood there in silence, watching as you disappeared into the night, your figure swallowed by the darkness and snow.

And in that quiet, as the cold wrapped around him, he felt it—the guilt gnawing at him, the weight of his own words hanging heavy in the air between you. He’d seen the way you’d changed after he said it, the way something in you had pulled back, retreated, and now the regret settled in like a second skin.

It wasn’t just the bite of the wind that cut into him—it was the sharp sting of realizing what he’d done, and that he couldn’t take it back.

•••

Tag List: @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #ellie tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot

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bunny-jpeg · 8 months ago

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Hi bunny I have an idea

What if reader and lando lowk hate each other and are rivals but one night at vegas they wake up after being blackout drunk married and they only have photos (a bit like the hangover movie) and then they get a flashback of everything with a fruitcake, crostata, cranberry juice and coffee plss thanksss bunny !

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of items to check out, thank you so much for those who have submitted, these have been a lot of fun to make. i really love this concept so thank you for putting it in front of my eyes! i hope you enjoy <3

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special." + crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.” + cranberry juice: mean!character + coffee: rivals served by lando norris (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, drinking, drunk marriage, hate sex, mean!lando,

light streamed through the large windows in your hotel room. your eyes cracked open and your mouth felt instantly dry. your lips couldn't form words as you just groaned. you were no stranger to hangovers, but when you turned away from the evil sun, your cheek collided with something firm. someone firm. it was a body, your eyes open wider. you looked to see who was the mystery man in your bed.

while you were expecting some babe from the strip. you instead saw a sleeping lando norris.

and when you recoiled away from you and put your hand over your mouth, you noticed something even more terrifying. you had a gold band on your left hand.

it started over drinks, you could see lando from across the bar as you leaned back into your seat. your teammate followed your gaze. not this again.

lewis had the displeasure of hearing almost all of your drunken rants about lando. he knew very intimately how much you loathed, but also wanted lando. he was your proper rival. while the rivalry wasn't the more fierce in the history of formula one, he wanted you to just get over your stubbornness and sleep with the mclaren driver to get over the tension.

"i hate him." you sighed, "he walks around the paddock like he has the biggest cock."

"and how would you know his cock isn't the biggest?" lewis laughed which spurred you to laugh.

"well, c'mon. we all know that my cock is the biggest. in a metaphorical sense anyway... but it takes big balls to be the only female driver. gotta keep up with the boys." you laughed and winked at your teammate.

lewis chuckled, "can't argue with that." then took a sip of his (non alcoholic) drink. he watched you look over at the mclearn drivers at the other end of the bar. while oscar gave a wave, lando glared at you.

you made a face before you took another sip of your cocktail, "he doesn't act like that with anyone else. he is practically running max off the track and he is still more friendly than with me. maybe he hates women." the alcohol was flooded in your brain and your tonuge felt looser.

your teammate laughed, "right, right. he hated woman." he watched you ramble. an unintentional plus side to not drinking was that he got to be the sober person in the room when fellow drivers spilled their guts over drinks. eventually he said, "i think you need to talk to him."

and you were so drunk at that point you took hew advice and got up on shaky legs. you started to make your way over to lando, which shocked lewis. you never took his advice like that. he also knew that he wasn't going to be seeing you for the rest of the night.

he looked around for a moment before he took another sip of his drink. he hoped that you didn't get into too much trouble tonight. and made a mental note to check in on you in the morning. someone could get into heaps of trouble in a place like las vegas.

you don't know this happened or what you said. but lando was soon in your room with his large hands all over you. you groaned at his touch and he wanted to devour you whole. you wanted the same for him.

"i'll make tonight special." he said as he got you out of your mercedes branded t-shirt. and eyed your breasts.

"never seen tits before, norris? i thought you went through women like pairs of socks." you laughed before lando pushed you further up against the wall.

he chuckled lowly, "you like getting me mad, huh? you like driving me up the fucking wall. stupid slut, this is what you wanted, huh? you wanted me to fuck you like i hate you." lando then groaned, he pinned you to the wall, "you're such a whore. i bet you keep toto's bed nice and warm during the off season."

"fuck, shut up. you basically are between the legs of zak any time he asks. like a fucking dog." you bit back before lando kissed you once more.

the months of feuding had come to a head. as lando continued you to mark up your breasts before he took your bra off. he hungrily licked his lips and groaned a little.

the bed seemed far and you ended up on the couch. both of you were stripped naked, your flushed body on display for him as you straddled his waist and he held on to your hips like you two had done this a million times. you moved well together.

"i thought you were a virgin because you never put out. turned out you're a proper whore." your moan only spurred him on as he pushed himself inside of your achy cunt. he felt you in such an intimate way.

"i'm not a whore" you groaned as you fully seated yourself onto his cock.

he gripped you by the ass and replied, "there's no shame in being a whore. especially my whore. don't worry, i won't throw you away. nah, i'm keeping you." he groaned as he started to fuck you. and you felt the flood of pleasure in your body.

you had to admit, lando made you feel good. there was something about how it made you feel that made you move faster. damn lando norris, damn him.

his kisses got hotter the more you both rutted against each other.

"you feel like heaven. the hottest piece of ass on the track." he groaned, "you're always trying to be the best, but i know you well enough. fuck you drive me crazy!"

you asked, "is that why you hate me?" you felt the pleasure pair with the liquor in your system. it all clouded your mind.

"could never actually hate you." he groaned, "i'd bully and tease you. but that's because i want you so badly. spent so many nights jerking off to the thoughts of you." his breathing became heavier, "wanted to fuck you in front of the grid. i wanted you all to myself." his tone was hungry, but his words were true. he needed you. you had invaded his thoughts.

"fuck, lando." the haze of it all kept you moving. there was a painful heat between you. it was unlike anything you felt before with anyone else. sex was fun with others, but with lando it was a deep need.

he excited you sexually, just as he ddi on the track. you two kissed once more and lando moaned against your lips. youmoved faster, you could feel his cock hit against your softest areas. and you felt heaven on earth. and as you climaxed, the feeling was closely compared to winning a grand prix.

"fuck.' he groaned as you came. you kissed once more and practically melted against him. he gripped your hips tightly.

you continued to fuck him through your orgasm. and by the time he finished inside of you, you had marked up his shoulders with your nails because he made you finish for a second time.

when you slowed to a stop, you rested against his toned chest. he wrapped an arm around you and gave you a lazy kiss on the mouth.

he groaned when he pulled away, "fuck it. i'm keeping you. let's get married." there were a lot of ways to get into trouble in las vegas.

you laid in bed beside a sleeping lando. you looked at your wedding ring in shock. it only made the hangover worse. you had no recollection of most of the night, you remembered being intimate. but no details about your wedding.

your phone rang and you reached for it. you picked it up and heard lewis' voice on the other end, "good morning mrs. norris."

you sat up in bed and the throb in your head got worse. "how did you know? jesus christ." you said as you got out of bed to have this conversation in the bathroom.

"i mean, you sent me photos of your wedding. didn't take you as someone who wanted to be married by an elvis impersonator. how drunk were you last night?"

you closed the bathroom door and looked into the mirror. and saw all the marks lando left you the night prior. you said, "i couldn't tell you... i remember nothing."

"well they already updated your name on the track for next weekend." lewis laughed, "i'd suggest your change it on your track id, don't want any problems, mrs. norris."

"you hate me, lewis. you want me dead."

lewis replied, "not as much as toto wants you dead. have fun with your husband, let me know if you're flying to qatar with him or not."

when the call ended, you looked through your photos. you got married to lando norris. your rival. you felt your stomach dropped when you saw all the photos. the bathroom door opened and you were face to face with your husband.

you looked at one another in shock. you looked down at the photo on the phone screen. it was you in a short white number and lando in a white button up and tan slacks. you had no memory of this.

your hands shook as you showed him the photo. there was a silence between you two. before you could say anything, you jumped as you phone rang once more.

your stomach twisted when you saw the caller id. it was your boss, toto wolff. <3

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