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no-144444 · 2 months ago

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꩜ summary: 2 years after he's seen you, and you're still both thinking the same thing...

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

꩜a/n: smut 18+

Oscar had no idea what he was doing there. A concert wasn’t usually his scene anyway, but your concert. Fuck, he was out of place, despite not really looking it. Everyone was his age, some guys even looked like him (though they were clearly dragged by their partners), and honestly, had he a gin and tonic in his hand and maybe Logan and Lando by his side, he would’ve probably enjoyed himself. Well, that, and not having a long and deep history with the woman performing. But here he was, drink-less, and Hattie beside him.

It had been what, 2 years since you’d last seen each other? Not that bad, right? Wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the weeks just ticked by so much that texting you would be weird. Oscar was… a kid back then (not really, he was 20), when you two… started, if something even started. It had been one drunk night which had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. He remembered everything from that night, despite the ridiculous amount of alcohol he consumed.

“Have you met Y/n?” Pierre mused, a smirk on his lips. Oscar gulped. The randomest people were always invited to F1 events, and Oscar wasn’t usually interested in attending, but one bad race result meant he wanted a drink, and stuff always tasted better when someone else was paying for it, especially when that someone was the FIA. FIA parties were always interesting. All the celebrities who had come to the race, any driver who wasn’t flying home, and all the F2 drivers who hadn’t left yet. The music was deafening, the lights were low, and bad decisions were inevitable.

“Who’s that?” he asked as Pierre wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer with that ill-intended smirk he always wore before getting Oscar into trouble.

“She’s your age, she’s a singer, and she’s hot,” Pierre pushed Oscar into the crowd, his drink almost spilling all down the back of a girls dress, and knocking her over.

“Shit! Sorry,” he cursed, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “You alright?”

You turned around to meet his eyes, and his entire body went stiff. Shit, Pierre wasn’t lying, you were stunning. “All good, thanks though,” you smiled back, flashing him a look of your perfect teeth. Whoever was going to procreate with you was lucky.

“I’m Oscar, by the way,” he held out his hand to be shaken. This was a rare show of confidence from Oscar. The regular him would’ve just walked on and never thought about the interaction again. “I’m with Alpine-”

“I know who you are,” you chuckled, a wonderful, melodic sound over the deafening music. “I’m Y/n,” you shook his hand. “You’re really talented, too bad about the Sprint this weekend though,” you offered him a sympathetic look, but he was focusing pretty hard on not looking at your tits and the way they jumped out of your dress.

“Yeah, a shame but… it’s whatever,” he shrugged. “Do you want to grab a drink?”

“Holy shit,” you whispered against his ear as he continued kissing down your neck. “Never thought I’d be fucked on an F1 car,” you chuckled, digging your nails into his back muscles. He groaned against your neck, but never stopped. Maybe bringing you into the alpine garage to fuck you on an f1 car wasn't the wisest choice, but he did it anyway. The cocky part of his brain told him it was due to the fact he wanted to, but in reality, he just wanted to impress you.

“First time for everything,” he grunted, pulling back. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“So sure,” you nodded, fisting the bottom of his stupid alpine shirt. He didn’t need to be told twice. He smirked and turned your back to him, feeling a sense of satisfaction when he heard you were moaning at that alone. “Liked that?’ he teased, and you slapped his arm playfully.

“Just fuck me Oscar,” you rolled your eyes, bending over and leaning on the car. He let out a breath as he pulled your panties down your legs. “I thought racecar drivers were meant to be fast?” you mocked. “You’re taking your time.”

He shrugged and started unzipping his trousers. “I like to enjoy the view when I’m not driving 300 km an hour,” he was feeling increasingly cocky, and he knew no one was taking him down from this high. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaning over you and taking one of your hands in his as he pulled the condom on his cock. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and felt you shiver under him. He was hard, harder than he’d ever been probably. He was going to enjoy this. “You ready?”

“Fuck me Oscar,” you pushed back against him, and he slipped in with one swift motion. Both of you were just frozen for a moment, you were adjusting to his size, while he was trying not to cum already. You were so fucking tight, he had no idea what he was going to do. Maybe he’d have to start naming world champions in his head to hold off longer, or maybe he’d just cum prematurely and make an ass of himself in front of the most interesting girl he’d ever met. Shockingly, he preferred the first option.

“You can move now,” your voice was low and small, but it didn’t bother him one bit.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back and thrust into you once, knocking the air out of your lungs. Quickly, you two built a rhythm that had you both moaning out louder than either of you had planned. He genuinely prayed no one would check the security cam footage, or else he was for sure fucked.

“So good Osc,” you whined, grinding back against him. “Feels so good.”

“Feels fucking amazing,” he groaned, throwing his head back as he thrust into you harder. “So fucking beautiful baby.”

It didn’t go unnoticed, the way you tightened around him when he said it. He smirked. Nothing was getting him off this ego boost. Ever.

“Dear god,” you gasped out as he quickened his pace.

“Not God, Oscar,” he smirked, earning him another slap to the arm. Worth it.

The next time it happened, it was after Coachella. You’d flown him out to California, he watched your set, and then spent three hours in your dressing room getting rode like a fucking horse. He didn’t complain once. The visits gradually became more regular, and in hotel rooms, or the odd dressing room, or sometimes his Monaco apartment. It was sometimes just lunch, or dinner, and then it turned into that more than sex, and that’s when you ran, and he got his heart broken.

He shook the memories away and sunk further into the crowd (he hoped), and adjusted the green cap on his head, trying to blend in some more. The last few notes of one of your songs played, and he smiled, watching you perform.

“How are we feeling Melbourne?” you asked and the crowd went wild. He even clapped a bit, but mostly because Hattie slapped his arm. “Well, I have something for you, it’s a new song…” you paused as the crowd went insane. Hattie grabbed onto his shoulder, her mouth hung open with shock. “It’s called ‘Dear God’, and it’s about a Melbourne native,” you winked at the crowd before the opening chords began.

His mouth was hung open and all the blood rushed to his ears. He wore ear plugs to concerts, he always had. He had never been a fan of too much noise, but he immediately ripped them out of his ears, and gawked. You danced around the stage, and his eyes never left your body as he listened to the damned lyrics.

“Dear god, take his kiss right out my brain, take the pleasure outta my pain, take the way he used to say, ‘I love you’, dear god, get his imprint out of my back, take ‘amazing’ out of our sex, take away the way I still might want to,” you sang looking out on the crowd.

And then your eyes found him and time stopped. You continued singing, you kept dancing, but your eyes never left his. Much like you never stopped thinking about him. Much like you never stopped loving him. Every word was meant. Every word was for him.

“I want to meet that guy,” you pointed him out to one of your guards. “We know each other. Offer the girl with him a VIP package, she’s famous too. Just, send him straight to my dressing room and send her to the meet and greet, yeah?”

He nodded, and left to start arranging it.

The show came and went, and someone told you there was ‘a strange man’ in your dressing room. You smirked.

“Amazing sex?” he teased, his hands in his pockets. “I think it was a bit better than that.”

You rolled your eyes and closed the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were hugging him. The world stopped for the second time that night. His arms wrapped around you and squeezed, tight. It felt good. Right. “Missed you,” you admitted, your voice muffled by his (now) broad chest. “Where have you been?”

You knew it wasn’t a fair question when you were the one who walked away, but you knew Oscar well enough to know he’d just smile and say something deeply profound as if it were completely unremarkable.

“Waiting for you, I guess,” he shrugged. Check.

You smiled against his chest. “I love you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

He pulled back, cupping your cheek with one of his perfect, boyish smiles. “No need to be sorry,” he shook his head. “It all worked out.”

You nodded and pressed forward, catching his lips with yours. All that heat and hurt you caused each other, all those years spent together and cautious, and those spent alone and miserable, it all culminated in that kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made you never want to stop, but alas, humans need air, and Oscar felt fit to faint, but then again, he would for you.

“Also, the sex was way better than amazing,” you agreed, a chuckle on your lips. He laughed out loud, that perfect, Oscar laugh. You leaned in and buried your head in his neck.

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

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evilmenenjoyer · 4 months ago

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Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs.

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

#hwang inho x reader #young il x reader #the frontman x reader #hwang inho x you #the frontman x you #squid game x reader #lee byung hun x reader #my fics

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

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The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.

“Get out!” he yells.

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter.

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.

“You're not hurt?” he asks.

“I'm fine,” you promise him.

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune movie

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bleufu1 · 27 days ago

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FRESH SWEETENER

“You came. Ain’t expect you ta’ actually show up.”

“Well ya’ asked didn’t you?”

mini taglist — @kxllanxtdoor @marley1773 @motheroffae @yourcoralansene @coldeforprez @twistedsistas-stuff @heyyimmisunderstood @spatterpus @bendoverboo18 @pinkpantheris

SYNOPSIS: The boys continue to set up for tonight’s joint — Sugar get an’ unexpected invite.

The plan was to start preparing for the party tonight. It was saturday, an’ everyone was off — so it’s gon’ be packed. Smoke made some plans with everybody, tellin em’ what they jobs was gon’ be when the party started. He told Stack he in charge of keeping the party going, Annie was on food, Slim on music an’ Sammie singing whenever the chance presents itself. No if and’s or buts.

“What if i gotta piss? What then huh?” Stacks tone laced in play.

“I’ll make you piss yo’ pants you keep on’ playin’.” Smoke backhands Stack.

Stack rubs the back of his neck laughing still. Walkin’ over to Bo Chow, discussing how they gon’ renovate the juke joint for tonight. At first the plan was to change where the food was gon’ be and make room for coats and what-not. But Annie had other ideas since the food section was closer to the windows which means better ventilation. This meant they had to find somewhere else to put the coats.

Bo chow decided to help with getting some racks for the coats and maybe more stuff for food. Grace had somebody for the coat racks. Stack had to find more musicians for the joint, said they needed sum’n bigger than what they had. Smoke ain’t agree at first but seein’ how everybody nodded they head, he was outta the option.

Slim was too busy makin’ sure the alcohol coming in was up to date and good enough for the joint. Being the drinker he was of course he’d know. Slim said sum’n bout needing more glasses for more people. Sum’n told Smoke it won’t bout’ no other people.

Sammie got told he had to sing at the juke. not other options.

Ain’t like he was complaining either. Sammie loved singin’. Was the one thing that made him, him. They told him he needed to sing at least once every night. Don’t matter what it was long as he was singin’ it. While Smoke handled the actual business, Stack took Sammie out near the train to find more low ground musicians. Worked for finding slim so same should work now.

Stack and Sammie walked around. They found a violinist, bass player an’ someone for saxophone. Stack said they was on a role. Wanted to test they luck an’ see if they could find another singer. Had to be someone round’ here with a voice as strong as Sammie’s.

They turned a corner.

Then another.

Sammie spotted her first. In red high heels an’ a white dress. Stack yelled out to her, catching her attention.

“Well well, nice to see ya’ again.”

Sugar turned to the sound. When she seen em’ a smile creeped up on her face. Her eyes bounced from Stack to Sammie, an’ they stayed there. Shit — if someone told her that his fine ass was here, she would’ve wore a better dress.

“Hello to you too, Stack — an’ you too Preacher Boy.”

Sammie tipped his hat to her. Stack made conversation with Sugar. Try’n to convince her to sing at the joint. Told her she’d get free food and drinks for helping — and he’d pay her too. While the two negotiated, Sammie day dreamed. He zoned out on her face. She sure looked older, last time he’d seen her she looked younger than her age.

Her eyes still captivating, smile still shined like diamonds. He wanted to think of how much her body changed, but that’d only lead to his mind going places it ain’t need ta’ be.

Sammie came out of it, listening to Stacks proposal. Seemed like Sugar wasn’t havin’ none.

“C’mon — You’ll have fun for once girl.”

Sugar looked him up an’ down. He gazed shifted to Sammie, holdin’ his eyes in hers again. It’s almost as if she wanted to see if he wanted her there rather than Stack inviting her for profit. By the way he was staring back — she knew her answer. Sugar eventually came round’ an’ agreed to show up tonight. Stack let out a hoot an’ walked off to the crowd forming down the street.

Sugar an’ Sammie stood, comfortable silence followed. Ain’t none of em’ had to talk, their mutual presence was enough.

Till sammie opened his yapper.

“So ya’ actually comin’ — or you jus’ said yes outta’ pressure?”

“Ain’t nobody pressuring me baby, believe that.”

“By the way you was starin’ thought I was the culprit.”

“Oh — ain’t ya’ cute.”

With that Sugar walked off, not without givin’ Sammie a small squeeze on his shoulder. She made her way down the opposite side of the street where her sisters shop was. Sammie watched as she walked off — damn.

Stacks footsteps were heard, and so was his voice before ya’ could even see em’.

“Where her fast tail ass go so quick?”

“Down to er’ sisters. Best we leave her be.”

Stack sucked his teeth an’ tugged Sammie along. They had to go help set up for tonight anyways an’ Stack already found everyone he needed. Him an’ Sammie hopped in the car an’ drive off.

Sammie wondered if Sugar would actually show up, she had a keen tendency to say one thing an’ go back on it if she really ain’t wanna do it — at least that’s how he remembered it.

Pulling up to the joint Sammie an’ Stack hop out, Sammie rolls up his sleeves an’ Stack walks in just ready to annoy Smoke with his nonsense. It was gin’ be a long couple hours.

The juke was hot. People dancin’ an’ singin’ along to the tunes. The musicians Stack found was playin’ the hearts out. Cornbread an’ another fella was watching the door — keepin’ the weirdos out, Cornbread stopped his duty a couple times to harass folks for money he gave em’.

It was a sight to see. The men in the back playing cards — one of em’ almost jumped over the table cause he lost his round an’ his money. Some of the ladies decided to pitch in with the food, Helpin’ Annie at the bar an’ what not. Some couples was on the dance floor, slow dancin’ to the music while others stood in the corner.

One of the best sights Sammie seen.

Sammie leaned on one of the wooden pillars in the place. Watching the scene unfolding in front of him. Smoke told em’ he ain’t have to sing tonight since they had brought enough music with em’ for the day. Next saturday though, he told em.’ Not like Sammie was complaining, smooth night without anything to do for once.

Something told Sammie to look beside him.

He did. An’ there she was.

He dress was long but draped down low in the back. She had on short heels, simple pearl necklace an’ earrings but damn it made her look good. Sammie smirked to himself as she walked in. Some people whispered, some heads turned. But she wont focused on them.

She was looking for him.

At him, actually.

Sugar made her way over to Sammie, opening her arms to invite him into a hug. Sammie took it, squeezing her tight an’ swaying side to side. He ain’t wanna let go — but sadly she did.

Sammie took a minute to take all of her in. She really is the most beautiful thing he’s seen.

“Ya’ really came — ain’t expect you to actually show.”

“Well ya’ asked did you?”

“Don’t member’ that.”

“You did with ya’ eyes.”

They stood staring at each other. Not in awkwardness or embarrassment. Just peace, as if nobody else was there but them.

“Well i’m glad you showed, hope ya’ have a good time.”

Just as Sugar was gon’ respond she got called over by Annie. Both of em’ turned the head, Sugar gave Sammie a sorry smile as she walked over to Annie to talk. Sammie turned back an’ seen Slim shaking his head at him. Sammie shoved him slightly but that only made Slim cackle out more.

Hopefully he get the chance to talk to her again. Pretty sure she singin’ tonight too. Sammie took a deep breath before walkin’ off. He walked towards Smoke an’ Stack, just tryna’ be nosey.

Apparently stack fucked up some man’s order at the bar, being funny when ain’t shit to laugh about.

Man, it’s gon’ be a long night.

——————————————————————————

🫶 — MB YALL IK TS TOOK ME FOREVER, swea i ain’t forget bout yall. Anyways hope yall like it MWAHHH 😼

#miles caton #preacher boy x reader #sammie moore #sammie moore x reader #sinners #sinners 2025 #ryan coogler #sinners fanfiction #sinners imagine #sinners x reader #smoke and stack

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meganwhalenturner · 4 months ago

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So, last November I got to try my hand at Alchemy

Maddalena Rumor, in the Classics Department of Case Western Reserve University came to have dinner with us and mentioned she'd just successfully turned silver gold.

She had an alchemical recipe from a 7th century BCE cuneiform tablet from the library of Ashurbanipal. She'd been working with Rekha Srinivasan, from the Chemistry Department to see if they could translate the cuneiform, identify the substances mentioned, and then try the recipe to see if it worked.

They traveled to the British Museum to examine the tablet up close. By studying the partial strokes along the edges, Maddalena could make some educated guesses about missing words. Rekha, in turn, could use the descriptions of the substances to make some guesses about what they might be. Then they could start testing their best guesses with experiments.

This is complicated by the tendency of alchemical texts to use code words or inside jokes to describe materials or techniques. Something like me making a recipe that calls for 2 Legs and 1 Arm of Policeman and my friends all knowing it means 2.5 ingots of Copper.

I know the word alchemy comes from the Arabic al-kimia and that it eventually developed into chemistry, but I've always associated it with the worst of the Dark Ages in Europe--charlatans or wannabe magicians in smoke-filled, poorly lit cellars full of of mummified animals and just generally gross stuff that is not my jam.

I'm wondering now if that's because medieval alchemists were reading a lot of things literally that weren't meant to be taken that way. There's a reference in one of Maddalena's article's to a rare case where "human excrement" called for in a recipe is revealed to actually mean "garlic." I can see a lot of ancient alchemists laughing up their sleeves.

I had just learned during a trip to Naples the previous summer that the alchemy of Renaissance philosophers like Pico Della Mirandola was very different from the stuff in the basements of Prague. Instead of dreckapotheke, they were translating texts from the Ancients Greeks, texts that were perhaps based on the very tablets from the 7th Century BCE that Maddalena was studying. I promptly begged to observe her next experiment.

She very graciously said yes, so I went down to a lab at Case and I wish I had taken better notes, but I did not, so what I've got is a bunch of pictures, and I'll have to go back and badger Maddalena for details.

These are the ingredients for the next round of testing.

They will be mixed into a solution in the flask on the right and then heated on a burner.

Then silver tablets will be dipped into the solution:

And turn gold!

Not *into* gold. That was not the plan. Hope you aren't disappointed.

If you thought the object of alchemy in those dark basements in Prague was turn to lead into gold, yeah me, too. And maybe it was, but the alchemy of the ancient Near East seems to have been more clear that transmutation wasn't on offer. After reading some of Maddalena's articles, I now know there were four main practices of alchemy back in the day: coloring silver gold, making a silver alloy that still looked like silver, coloring glass to look like precious stones, and dying wool purple without using those expensive snail shells from Tyre.

I talked about alchemy a lot (really, a lot, everyone was very patient) at a recent writing retreat. Erin Bow called it the Science of Knock Offs.

There are multiple ancient sources that say that this "holy and divine art" (hē hiera kai theia technē) was taught to mankind by fallen angels who were sharing the secrets of heaven. I know it seems ridiculous that an all knowing divine being is going to focus on the Secret Science of Knock Offs, but the more I I think about it, the more I can see it.

ARMUMAHEL: We will share with you the great mysteries of heaven!

MANKIND: . . .

ARMUMAHEL: I can save you some money on purple dye.

MANKIND: YAY!

SAMYAZA: So how did the secret sharing go today, Armumahel? Did they ask about the language of birds? The control over monsters of the deep?

ARMUMAHEL: I told'em how to make glass marbles look like sapphires.

SAMYAZA: You do know Enoch is writing all this down. His book is going to be stuck in the apocrypha and we're going to be laughing stocks.

ARMUMAHEL: I promised to tell them tomorrow how to turn silver gold.

SAMYAZA: Ah! Transmutation of matter! That's a good one!

ARMUMAHEL: No, not transmutation. They just want the silver bowls on the alter to be yellow and shiny.

SAMYAZA: . . .

My shiny yellow tablet. : )

#alchemy #cuneiform tablet #case western reserve #CWRU #maddalena rumor #rekha srinivasan

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strangererotica · 10 months ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Mean!Dom!Joel Miller x Reader | Joel tames Reader’s bratty, bitchy attitude with a good hard FUCK | make-up sex but meaner 😈 | rough, rough sex | includes fingering, vaginal sex, Joel holds Reader’s throat (no choking) implied age gap, some butt stuff, use of ‘little girl,’ and ‘bitch,’ as demeaning terms, oral sex, spanking, degrading language used by both Joel & Reader

Joel’s eyes pierce through you, his voice simmering with anger. “If you run that little brat mouth of yours one more time, I swear to god-.”

“-What??” you taunt him. “What’re you gonna do, old man??” He doesn’t respond immediately, so you aggressively shove at his chest with both hands. “Tough guy??” you sneer. Joel clenches his fists in restraint. Your smile is intentionally cruel in an effort to provoke him. “You gonna hurt me, you fucking asshole??”

For a moment, a softness passes over his eyes; it never occurred to Joel that you’d imagine him capable of being violent toward you. He feels…heartbroken by your lack of trust in him, but refuses to let it show.

“Is that what you want?” Joel asks instead, forcing a coldness into his tone. “You want me to hurt you?” When you try to shove at his chest again, Joel is prepared for it this time. His big hands clamp around your wrists, his lips pressed into a hard line as he holds back your assault. You both grunt as he presses your hands back against your own chest, pinning them to you.

“You’re not doin’ shit to me, little girl,” Joel growls. “No matter how big you want to try ‘n make yourself-.” He removes one of his hands, proving that he can keep you restrained using only one. “-I’m still in charge…”

You glare at him, jutting your head forward so your spit lands directly on his mouth. Joel jerks at the sudden contact of your saliva hitting him, before scoffing and running his tongue over his lip to taste it. “That supposed to piss me off-?” Joel tugs one of your hands downward and rubs his erection against it. “-Or turn me on?” he asks. “Because to be fuckin’ honest-.” Joel grinds himself against the palm of your hand. “-It’s doin’ a bit of both…”

Your bitchy defenses are crumbling further by the second. At this point, you can’t even remember what prompted the fight you started with Joel. It began this morning, gradually building in intensity till it reached a boiling point five minutes ago. “…Joel,” you utter, your voice suddenly soft, and he sure as hell notices.

“Oh, now I’m Joel again?” he asks. “What happened to all those colorful names you were calling me, huh?” He smirks condescendingly, but his cock throbs against your hand. “Am I not an old man anymore? A fuckin’ asshole? Or-.” His eyebrow lifts, as if a sudden clarity has come over him. “Maybe what you meant to say-.” Joel reaches behind you and grips a handful of your ass, squeezing so hard you wince. “-Is that you want your asshole fucked?” His eyes are so dark, it’s almost frightening. “Does that sound about right?” Joel releases your ass, followed by a spanking so hard, tears form in your eyes.

You’ve gone uncharacteristically quiet after being humbled by Joel’s strength. “Now you’ve got nothin’ to say?” he snaps. Joel cups your hand over his erection and grinds against it. “About damn time you stopped fuckin’ disrespecting me,” he growls. “I can think of better uses for your dirty mouth, anyway.”

Joel’s hands go to your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. Without a second thought, you reach for his belt, and he smacks your hand away, shaking his head at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “This is how I know you were bein’ a bitch on purpose.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops of his jeans, tossing it aside. “You wanna make it up to me bad, don’t you little girl?” He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, watching the shadow it casts over your hungry expression. Joel scoffs as if disgusted by your eagerness, but really, he’s getting off on it. “Quit embarrassing yourself and just start suckin’ it already,” he mutters down at you.

Joel’s cock points toward your lips, a dot of precum blossoming on its fat, ruddy tip. You swipe your tongue across it, collecting the pearly liquid. He takes his cock by the base and smacks it heavy against your cheek. “I said suck it,” he scolds. “Not give it a fuckin’ kiss.” Joel grabs you by the hair and pulls your lips over his cock, thrusting back and forth inside your mouth. “Have to do everything myself,” he grunts as you struggle to take him, spit bubbling around your lips and dripping to the floor. Joel’s body is curved forward, his stomach tensed as he fucks down your throat. He feels your muscles constrict quickly, telling him you’re about to vomit. Joel pulls out long enough for you to swallow back the vomit and catch your breath, his hand still locked in your hair, then immediately pulls you back over his cock and continues to selfishly use your throat.

When he feels the threat of vomit approaching again, Joel decides you’ve had enough. He wipes away the bubbly spit and mucus smeared over your face and neck. “On your back,” Joel orders, tugging his shirt over his head. “Panties off, NOW.” He nestles between your legs, spitting on two of his fingers before abruptly forcing them inside your cunt. Your eyes go wide, your back arching into a crescent as the sudden penetration overwhelms you. “You can take it,” Joel assures you, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, occasionally kissing the soft skin there while he fingers you. “Been smellin’ this little pussy all day, y’know that?” Joel smirks. “All the time we were goin’ back and forth at each other, I knew you were makin’ a mess all over your panties…”

Joel yanks his fingers from inside you and spanks your pussy, making you cry out. He doesn’t give you any time to recover before shoving his fingers back inside, pumping your guts like he’s angry at them. “You need an attitude adjustment,” Joel mutters darkly. “And probably a back adjustment too, by the time I’m done with you.” He flips you onto your stomach with his fingers still inside you. There’s a pressure against your asshole as Joel pushes his thumb just past its puckering barrier, penetrating you there as well. “Look at that,” he says, admiring the way you wiggle your hips to encourage him. “Keep pushin’ back on me like that ‘n I’ll put another finger inside you. Wear you like a fuckin’ puppet.” Joel chuckles darkly, his fingers toying inside your holes. “Guess that’d be one way to fix your brat mouth, wouldn’t it? Make you my little puppet so you can’t talk shit anymore.”

He pulls his fingers from your pussy and pops them in his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them with a groan. “Fuckin’ heaven,” he murmurs. “There’s nothin’ I’d rather do more than to bury my face in your sweet little cunt and lick you till you’re beggin’ me to quit,” Joel adds. “But that’d be a treat, and you don’t deserve it after the way you bitched at me all afternoon.”

He’s kneeling between your legs, his eyes coasting over your back and ass, admiring the pretty marks his hand left on it. He spits into his palm and takes hold of his cock, pressing his tip just against your asshole. He feels you tense, and smirks behind you. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” Joel teases, guiding his tip lower. “I’m not gonna put it in your ass.” He spanks you with his cock, your lips quivering around his tip. “God knows if I did, you’d make a mess all over the place and have to spend the night cleaning shit and cum out of the carpet.” Joel bucks into your pussy without warning, your lips parting in a low groan. “This way,” he breathes against your neck, his body curved over yours. “All you’ll be cleaning up is cum.”

Joel closes his hand around your throat, holding you in place with your back in an arch. He forces his cock as deeply inside you as possible, pulling back a little when he feels your cervix against his tip. “Hold still,” he gruffly orders. “You want to make things right between us, don’t you?”

You nod as best you can with Joel’s hand around your throat.

“Then be a good girl and lay here while I use you, understand?”

He lets you answer definitively, just to check in and make sure you’re alright. Joel may have been hurt and pissed off by your antics earlier this afternoon, but under no circumstances would he ever abuse you. He needs to know you’re alright with the kind of language he’s using, and the easiest way to do that while remaining somewhat threatening is to ask, “You think you’re ready to take what I’m about to give you?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation, knowing full well that if you said no, Joel would immediately stop. “I’ve been such a bad girl.” You feel his cock twitch inside you, so you keep going. “Need you to teach me a lesson…”

…And Joel does. He beats your pussy into submission, fucking you like he hates you when in reality, Joel doesn’t think he could love you more without his heart bursting open. He’s laying across your back, his body almost flush with yours, hands pinning your wrists to the ground beside your head. He rests his forehead against the back of your hair, panting hot and wet over your neck. With his big hand still closed around your throat, Joel pistons into you so hard your tits are smacking against his forearm with every thrust.

Your ass bounces off his stomach each time they collide, his cock punching frenetically between your warm, moist walls. Joel feels himself getting close, and prays he has the self control to pull out in time. You’re fluttering around him in a way that tells him you’re on the edge as well, so he continues to fuck you at the same pace that’s brought you both to this point.

When you start to come, Joel has to pull out. He knows you don’t want to get pregnant right now and as deeply as he’s fucking you, there’s no way his cum would end up anywhere other than all over your cervix if he stayed inside you.

As soon as Joel pulls out, he stuffs two fingers back inside of you and keeps up the same pace as his cock before. You ride out your orgasm on his fingers, while Joel uses his other hand to stroke himself. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he pants over your back, letting go of his cock just long enough to give your ass two hard swats. “Keep squeezin’ my fingers, just like that, fuck…” Joel closes his eyes and lets out a string of curses, his cock spilling warm and white all over his lap.

Your cheek is resting against the floor, a contented smile on your lips when Joel catches you watching him. “So,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “Are we good, little girl?”

You bite your lip, nodding affirmatively. “Yeah,” you reply, your eyes getting heavy. “We’re definitely good.”

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stark-ironman · 10 months ago

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I am in love with your writing, and I am also OBSESSED with Hugh, I simply need to give this man five children, anyway, could you please do something with Hugh now, with a younger girlfriend, maybe 21? She's getting pregnant for the first time and being scared, and Hugh is there for her as the sweet and loving man he is 🙏🏻❤️ plss, sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language, tkss

I'll be there for you

A/N: I loved writing this! I wish it was longer but I might come around and do another part to this. I hope you like it! Always remember you can send in more requests!

Warnings: Accidental pregnancy, age gap (reader is 21, I made Hugh 51)

Positive +

Your breath hitches as you look at the four tests laying on the counter. This wasn't supposed to happen, not when you and Hugh made sure to be really careful when having sex because you two agreed on just being friends with benefits, nothing more. There's absolutely no way he wants to have a baby at his age. Not that he's too old but you know he's had other plans for his life that never involved a baby.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you from your thoughts and you read it.

"Come over when you get done. I want to see you." Hugh texts, making you start panicking. Fuck, fuck, fuck... what are you going to tell him? Better yet, how?

Taking a deep breath, you stick the tests in a bag and drive over to Hugh's place, a little slower than normal but you arrive faster than you planned.

"Great to see you, love." Hugh smiles as he hugs you, letting you walk inside and you give him a small smile. "Do you need to put the stuff in the bag up?" He asks. You start fidgeting with the bag, feeling your heartbeat and breath start picking back up.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?" Hugh starts immediately asking, pulling you in for a hug. Apologies fall from your mouth as tears run down your face, handing him the bag.

He looks at you confused but opens it, pulling the test out while you try to read his face for any kind of emotion. "You're pregnant?" His voice is hoarse as he continues to stare at it. "Yeah, I found it when you texted me earlier." You sniffle, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Well, what do you think about it?" He asks.

"I don't know. I know you didn't want anymore kids, especially with someone as young as me. I wasn't even sure if I wanted kids and now..." Your voice trails off and he motions for you to continue, "Now I want to keep the baby. I know you probably don't want to but I'll raise the baby by myself and I-" Hugh cuts you off by kissing you, running his hand through your hair.

"I never thought I would want kids again but being with you these past several months has made me question what I want out of life. I know I'm too old for you.. fuck, we probably should've never gotten together but I can't help but feel a deep love for you. I've loved you for a long time now but I was okay with being your fuck buddy. I want this life with you and our baby too. We can have as many babies as you want if it meant I get to be with you." Hugh confesses, not caring that he's rambling.

You stand on your tiptoes, kissing him softly. "I love you too, Hugh. I want this life with you. I've never cared about your age and that won't change, ever." He smiles at you, leaning down and pressing his lips against your stomach.

#hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman imagine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #h

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misshorneigh · 3 months ago

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mdni | 18+ | hmm, being johns and kyles pretty gf

cw/ age gap relationships, deepthroathing, hair pulling, threesome? slight objectification, praise kink

Imagine lazy John Price sitting back and learning to relax at home after retiring from military life. He’s busy with chores here and there, maybe sometimes fixing a thing or two in the garage or going for a run when the weather is nice, but most of his time is spent in front of the TV - watching some game or news channel with a beer in his hand until he falls asleep and takes a long nap on the couch.

His husband Kyle thought it was quite cute to see him like this, liking how he softened over his previously sharp edges. Though, he was still pursuing his career as a soldier, having recently been promoted to lieutenant which paid better but meant more work. Lately, it was getting quite difficult for the couple to find time for each other, between Kyle’s busy schedule or week-long deployments.

But really, John understood - no one could do it better than he did, and he honestly deserved a reward for being such a devoted househusband, even if he might have become a little lazy. That’s why Kyle found a little birdie like you to take home with. Something that could keep John company while he was away and was also pretty to look at.

You were naive and trusting, just the way John liked them. None of you three knew when the lines of your little arrangement began to blur, but it wasn't that unexpected. Of course, they would grow attached to a pretty little thing like you, these men weren’t made for anything casual. Besides, they liked you even more as their cute girlfriend and you should know that you belonged to them the moment you stepped into their cozy home. Good luck escaping the grasp of two experienced soldiers, sweetie.

“You’ll take good care of him now, won't you darling?” Kyle hummed in your ear while he slowly gathered your hair behind your back so that it wouldn’t get in the way. You sat with your knees on the carpet between John’s spread legs while he looked down at you two from the couch as he held a cigar in his hand, the ashes of which he dusted now and then on the ashtray next to him. As usual, he was wearing nothing but a plain black shirt and some dark blue boxer shorts, but this time they were tucked under his heavy balls, leaving his hard cock exposed to the air.

You shouldn’t be aroused by this but you couldn’t help but feel your nether regions tingle. Kyle took your hair in a tighter grip as he tilted your body further forward so that you were practically sprawled across his husband’s lap, who was watching you and Kyle with half-lidded eyes. He’d been almost painfully hard for quite some time now but he still couldn't keep himself from enjoying the pretty view in front of him while he leaned back and relaxed.

“Come on, open your mouth. You’re taking too long, gotta be a little faster than that, alright?" He commanded in a gentle tone, which you obeyed purely on instinct. "Good girl. Listen so good, hm?"

Kyle took John’s cock in his hand and slowly rubbed the pre cum that built up on his tip up and down. “You’ll need to do this by yourself when I’m gone - need you to keep John happy and satisfied for me, yeah?” his voice spoke to you in a gentle tone. “He’s worked so hard for so long. Deserves a little love from a pretty thing like you, don’t you think?” Meanwhile, he still kept his hand in your hair and pushed your head down until he finally brought the tip of it to your lips at the end of his sentence.

John hummed pleased when he finally slid down your warm throat. His husband did a good job of holding your head steady - reminding you to relax, to breathe in and out of your nose so he could stuff his fat cock all in until your nose was buried in his thick pubic hair which reminded him to trim it a bit again sometime. “Come on, move,” he complained before he took another puff of his cigar, watching Kyle pull your hair so that he could move your mouth up and down like you were just some toy.

You gagged every now and then at the speed but got used to the rhythm after a while. Sometimes Kyle would hold your head down for a few seconds, and rub your nose back and forth between the musky pubic hair. He could act nice all he wanted but he couldn't hide his twisted side that enjoyed watching you struggle. He kinda wanted to punish you for trying to push your head back while gripping Johns’s thighs so tightly but he knew he was being mean so he settled to just forcing your head down some more. “Yeah that’s it, you’re doing great sweetie.” Kyle encouraged you while he continued to bob your head steadily. He couldn't help but like how pretty you looked even while tears wouldn't stop running down your warm cheeks.

His other hand was placed over your throat, caressing it a little with his thumb when he felt the shape of John’s cock push through. “Poor girl. Gonna sound so hoarse later, no? John takes so long to cum, isn't he? You’re getting tired?” Kyle cooed in your ear, which only made you cry more. The hum of your voice caused a pleasant vibration around the former captain’s dick which only made his head lean back in pleasure - his gaze never leaving the two of you.

John was almost there, only needing to feel your tight walls trying to push him out some more since he was a dirty old man who liked pretty girls choking on his fat cock. Though, Kyle had spoiled him too much. He hadn’t had to move his hips or hands once to cram his cock into you yet and he wasn’t going to start now. “Keep her down,” he only murmured, not bothering to tell you that he was about to shoot his seed into your belly. You felt a little violated being treated like this - the couple was using your throat as if it was nothing more than a pocket pussy.

It almost made you feel a bit embarrassed with how turned on you were.

“Up,” John ordered as he watched his husband rise from his spot behind you to lean towards him, his hand still holding your head firmly in place. The two shared an intimate kiss and John groaned in his deep voice as he pushed his tongue into his husbands throat while simultaneously shooting his load down yours.

Lazy John with his handsome, hard-working husband, Kyle, and now you, their sweet and obedient girlfriend. It's definitely worth a thought.

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kedreeva · 3 months ago

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Transparencies are a a heavy load but would still balance out to be a better choice than all the different permutations if that's what you mean.

What kind of interface would you want for peahen simulator? Wasn't there some dragon breeding site ages ago?

Yeah, that was what I meant! And flight-rising is still around, but it's not... that kind of thing isn't really the same. The parents each have three colors, and each offspring randomly gets assigned one in each "spot" (primary color, secondary color, tertiary color), and they can't carry the other as a het. Same for the pattern "genes." So, it's COOL and all, but it has very shallow game mechanics as far as breeding goes. Even compared to some other breeding sims games that track genotypes for generations.

Very honestly, something like this would work just fine (this one is.... ugly as sin, but it is what it is), but we don't quite know peafowl genetics with the same depth as mouse genetics so the different autosomal genes would just kind of have to be treated like they aren't on the same chromosome until someone proves they are. So, drop downs for each autosomal color (treating each color as non-allelic, so each color would need a drop down for wt/het/homo), a drop down for sex-linked (since they're "alleles" in the sense that you can only have one per sex chromosome. except in the case of peach. because peafowl did a weird thing), a drop down for pattern, and drop downs for the leucistic genes. Select all the genes from the drop downs, hit calculate, it spits out a genotype, and each genotype codes to a phenotype. It doesn't even NEED a photo, but it would be cool to have a photo show up, OR to have a second page that does like this thing for horses. Which isn't a calculator, but would help people visualize their result.

There's ONE more problem- some stuff doesn't always show the same in the phenotype, and some stuff doesn't breed true. Het pied, het white, and dark pied all CAN show in the phenotype with white flights and a white throat latch, but they also sometimes show NOTHING. Het white eye CAN show in the phenotype with some white eyes or body silvering, but it can also show nothing. Pied x pied gives three different offspring genotypes, and idk if it's possible to do multiple results, with or without percentages. Hets would give the same problem of multiple results. What happens when someone picks a complicated bird and you end up with

It's daunting. But maybe there's scripts that can produce that?? like list all the combinations. I don't know enough about coding to know if that's even possible. especially with the sex linked stuff

#peafowl #peafowl genetics #asks

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aropride · 4 months ago

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on the topic of special ed. i specifically remember in 6th grade one of my best friends was in both the gifted-and-talented program (we were in the same group for english, we did secret book club together) and the special ed program, and. you know those like. stool chairs with round bottoms that u could rock back and forth on, for like, kids with accommodations for adhd or whatever, idk if that's universal, but they were widely coveted and you could only have one in a normal classroom if you had it on ur disability accommodations plan. but if you were in g&t you got to use them in the Secret Meeting Room where you'd do secret book club, right. and i kind of assumed the special ed room was like that too, like you get a bunch of fun items and stuff and everyone treats you like the smartest kid in the world. well it is Not like that.

but i remember one day specifically where my friend was having a really bad day and was on the verge of a meltdown and she was like hey can i take my friend with me to the isolation room. (it was called something like that, maybe solitary room? either way it was something that even at age 11 i was like. bro what?) and i was like. the what? and she was like Oh that's where you go if you're having a meltdown or something and you're in special ed. so we went down to the room and it was in a corner near a janitors closet and i'd never even noticed the door before. and we went in and it was this. narrow, brick room, probably like 7 feet wide and 15, 20 feet long? and it had bright fluorescent lighting that was still somehow jarringly yellow, absolutely nothing on the walls or anything, and at the back wall. one (1) singular bean bag chair.

and i was like. this is where they bring you to CALM DOWN????? and she was like. yeah you get used to it i guess. if you have a meltdown they lock you in here and then screaming won't bother people since it's out of the way. I have forgotten most of my memories from elementary/middle school but i still remember standing in the doorway to that room feeling. so deeply horrified by the whole thing. while my friend thought of it as completely normal.

and like. that same year, or maybe the year before, my little brother was in another school, and he was having a lot of meltdowns and Problem Behaviors (as they were called). and the staff would tell my parents "he had some Behaviors but we Restrained him and he calmed down :)" and. while i was a kid at the time so my parents didn't tell me most of the story. what i know is my parents almost sued his school (and would have if we weren't poor) because when they say they "restrained" him, they meant they locked him in a tiny closet alone until he stopped screaming and crying and hitting the walls. and he was a tiny fucking kid. he was like, 8 at the time? weighed like 50 pounds. my parents found out bc he was coming home with bruises. it's evil it's inexcusable and frankly i hope every adult who turned a blind eye to it dies.

and it wasn't just him, it wasn't just that school, i've heard so many horror stories from my friends who were in special ed & stories my parents have told me about their friends' kids & stuff i've heard online from ex-sped kids etc etc etc. like the way these kids are treated is like, near-universally horrific.

like, if you were neurodivergent in the way where you were "smart" and didn't bother or upset anyone, while it was Very Traumatic (for reasons that have been Posted about by many many people, i don't need to explain them here i don't think). we were treated SO much better than the kids who were in special ed, or who had impulse control problems or meltdowns or anything like that that Bothered adults. and those facts can and do coexist. and it upset me when i was like 15, bc i had that kneejerk "are you saying my trauma isn't that bad" sort of reaction, but like.

being undiagnosed neurodivergent came with its own trauma obviously. and being in the g&t program could be stressful and isolating. but at the end of the day, like. as much as it could suck. they were treating us like we were special, throwing treats in our enclosure, telling us how Smart we are and how we definitely have an iq of 120 or whatever. we'd have little snacks and learn long division and whatever. Whereas they were straight up abusing the kids in special ed. objectively the way they were treated was horrific and cruel and inexcusable. and far worse than the g&t program was. like sorry if it upsets you to hear that. but they weren't locking us in closets they were throwing pizza parties and letting us use the fun chairs. it's just not comparable at all really

#text #abuse tw #ableism #ask to tag #sorry for the essay but i just remembered those things back to back

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jd-loves-fiction · 4 months ago

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Did I say 2 reqs, I meant 3. This is gonna be a more specific one

You already know. Boothill, Gallagher, Blade, Aventurine and Ratio meeting reader of another universe and this reader almost the complete opposite of the one from their world with a different story and different circumstances.

(For more context HSR universe reader is more child-like, reckless, clearly teen aged, seeking parental validation a lot, Impulsive and just over all immature as expected from a kid.

Meanwhile this other universe reader is the same age but they are a lot more responsible, mature, basically parents the people around them, grumpy but caring (basically if you mixed Blade and Ratio personality-wise))

🌑it never eeeenndsss!! 😭(havin the time of my life) ALSO CAN YOU TELL I HAVE FAVORITES :D (maybe i should write a character study thing with Ratio too.... i like him a lot more than i realized)

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Eerie as hell, very freaked out

Like, who is this child and why do they look like you??

Obviously likes your normal self better, OBVIOUSLY

This is just weird :( you should be acting like a kid, because that's what you are, not... whatever this is

Unsettled through every enteraction with this other version of yourself, always a little distant - just can't get used to the change

Once its all over, he let's you get away with a lot more than usual (which was already a lot) and scolds you a lot less

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Feels a strange sort of longing - this is what you could've been like

He sees it as the version of you, you should've turned into if you'd have a relatively pain-free life

If makes him ache in a way he hasn't been able to process yet

Lingers a lot on the possibilities - would you have never met him like this? Would that have been better for you?

Slips into self-deprication alarmingly quickly

Once it's over, he turns very introspective for a few days after

Before returning to his quiet, grumpy self, only change being he tries to make your life a little easier in all the subtle ways he can

✦ 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 ✦

Definitely see the Dr. Ratio things and it freaks him out a little

He has to deal with one doctor, and now there's two?? (affectionate)

Isn't entirely pleased with the change - you're a lot less like him this was and he doesn't like it

Aven likes being able to relate to you and connect to you though your similarities (even if most of the things you have in common are undoubtedly negative)

Your similarities also help him lead you away from the worst stuff he's experienced walking the same path as you - like this though? He can't lead you, he doesn't know how and therefore feels as if he can't protect you

Spoils you like hell once the situation is solved, buying you anything you want and encouraging your childishness and recklessness - definitely not healthy, but he likes you better when you're similar

Totally has nothing to do with him seeing his younger self in you and wanting to vicariously heal himself through healing you oh my god this man needs so much therapy

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

Appreciates the help? but is conflicted about the whole thing

Sure, you're being a lot more helpful than usual (or this version of you is, rather) and more well behaved on top of that, and he appreciates that BUT it's weird

It's just weird - you're a kid. You're supposed to act like him, you don't need to be good and helpful for him to enjoy having you around

Subtly urges this other version of yourself to relax a little and let loose, more so just to see if they would - they don't. He's quite surprised by it

He though they would when given the chance, that this serious version of yourself was just acting this way becasue they had to and would revert to your normal way of acting when given the chance

The thought that the you he knows isn't necessarily the you, you were meant to be is troubling

The following days, he has a troubled look in his eye but brushes you off when you try to pry

✦ 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 ✦

It's like looking into a mirror...... he's not a fan

Not in a self-centered 'I'm the only one who can act like that' kind of way, more so in 'why the hell is a kid acting like this' kind of way

Despite what some people would have you believe, Dr. Ratio is actually incrediby caring - he's just on the spectrum (that part is headcanon but tale as old as time)

His life's mission is to spread his knowledge to everyone isntead of monopolising it like the Genius Society is doing

So in a way, it's good to see you follow some of his lessons and act like he sometimes suggests you do

But it feels so damn wrong it just doesn't sit right with him

He wants you to grow to appreciate his lessons when the time is right and you're grown enough to understand them yourself

This just feels like you skipped that teenage rebellion stage that he feels is important to go through

Plus, the slight chip on his shoulder he still carries from being rejected by the Genius Society tells him, the world doesn't need more Ratio's (🥺)

Strangely encourages your misbehavior in the days to come, turns a blind eye to your troublemaking and lightens up on the lessons

The whole ordeal has him appreciating the teenage part of development more than before

AHEM - Valentine event here ;)

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exquisink · 4 months ago

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sweeter uncertainty.

cw: cult leader!geto, oral (m! receiving), domestic stuff, yandere geto, non-sorcerer fem!reader

summary: Suguru Geto is an anomaly—an anomaly you haven’t quite figured out yet, and maybe never will.

wc: ~1.8K

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

His justifications for his actions don’t line up, but perhaps it’s not meant to make sense for someone who’s come from a smaller world than his, from a smaller, simpler world where there is no room to ponder over such complexities.

Everything he ever does with you is to keep you in line, to keep you from acting out or to keep you from doing anything you might regret. When you try to put things into perspective, you want to believe that being in his care isn’t as bad as he could make it for you. Only you can’t go as far as to call any of what he does kind or generous–even if he insists that it is, because why is he sparing you, someone who goes against everything he’s working so hard to erase?

Suguru Geto is an anomaly. An amalgamation of complexities, conundrums, and a certain brand of casual cruelty that’s unique to him. You don’t know what about you has drawn him in like a moth to a flame before catching itself on fire, or perhaps like a bee to honey like it’s won the jackpot? Has he seen something in you worth harnessing, worth foraging? Or are you something to be kept to himself, to hoard selfishly from the rest of the world because he feels entitled to whatever you have to offer? You still haven’t figured it out. You don’t understand, and maybe you never will.

The warm glow of the evening sun leaks through the window of the bedroom, where you remain bare beneath the silk sheets, mindlessly flipping through one of the magazines tossed carelessly on Geto’s nightstand. One of those bogus Cosmopolitan magazines he’s caught Nanako reading on multiple occasions.

“She’s just too young for that stuff,” he mutters to you, “She should hang onto whatever youth she has left and not worry about attracting boys her age with their monkey brains.”

You can’t help but agree, but you also can’t blame Nanako for allowing her curiosity to get the best of her. She’s well around that stage in her teens, but Geto’s a young adoptive father and utterly mortified by the kind of language she spews and the kinds of questions she’s asked him upon reading such foul magazines.

You hear some shuffling behind the door, and your head snaps in its direction. The doorknob twists, and into the room he strides after a trying day with a lot of those idiot clients of his he liked to bitch and moan to you about. (You can’t care less, but you listen anyway, because what better things do you have to do around here other than being his pretty trophy?)

A smile graces his worn features. You have noticed his neglect of himself. Deep-seated eye bags that are so huge that you’re surprised no one’s ever commented on them. (No one ever dares.) Open, gaping pores on his otherwise flawless skin that often left you feeling envious. Dryness around the nose and cheeks. His skin is a little blotchy from some redness.

Heh. You almost want to pity the idiot, but you can’t find it in your heart to do so because he doesn’t deserve your grace.

“Didn’t miss me too much?” he teases as he slips into bed with you after kicking off his sandals and socks, and loosening his yukata, sighing as he rests his head on your lap.

Hardly at all, you sneer in your mind while swallowing the bitter feelings that threaten to bubble forth in your response. You hold your tongue. You know better than to show any insolence anymore. A part of you no longer desires to argue or to fight back when it’s a losing game for you each time.

Instead you rake your fingers through his silky black locks, admiring the shiny sleek finish in spite of his overall negligence. He comes here seeking respite from his responsibilities. You have no choice but to play his game; that’s fine. You have accepted that he is not as cruel as he could be with you, but that doesn’t mean it’s true kindness, true purity of his heart.

“Suguru,” you murmur in a silken, syrupy tone that nearly rivals his when he requests something impossible of you. “You look ill. Have you even been eating?”

“No,” he admits, breathing out through his nose. “I haven’t.”

“You should take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you sigh, but you are not here to chide him like he’s your child, except in this instance this is exactly what he wants–moments where he doesn’t have to lead or to parent or to be himself. Even absolute terrorists need to turn their brains off which you find difficult to wrap your head around. Your finger pads continue to scratch lightly along his scalp, lulling him into a period where he can disengage his defenses. Drop the mask. He really is not who he says he is, and he really is not what he’s built his entire foundation on, either, isn’t he?

You rest the palm of your hand against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, kissing the heel of your palm. You fight back a wince, cursing to yourself. This man, this man capable of so much atrocities, seems so vulnerable that you are almost in awe that no one has exploited this side to him. Then again, he secures his pride and ego so much that you doubt anyone else has ever seen this side to him except perhaps his twin girls.

And you doubt they even saw this side to him all that much.

“Do you want to join me in the shower?” you propose, brushing your thumb along his lips. He hums as he considers your offer, but you know he never outright refuses. He doesn’t seem like he has the energy to argue tonight, either, which is a rarity from someone like him.

“If you let me bathe you,” he negotiates as the corner of his lips twitch into a little half-hearted smirk. He’s trying to find his energy again. You kind of want to kick him while he’s still down but you know that won’t bode well in the future for you.

“Whatever you want,” you concede, and he reluctantly lifts himself up from your lap, removing the covers and scooping you into his arms. You yelp a bit, and he chuckles to himself as he carries you to the restroom.

He disrobes before hauling you into the shower with him once the water finishes preheating. Muscular arms cage you against the stone tile as desperate lips find yours, tongue rolling along your teeth. Your hands rest against his hips, balancing yourself.

Your kiss breaks but his tongue lingers entwining with yours before he drags it down the column of your neck, along your collarbone, between your breasts…

And his mouth latches onto one, wet muscle laving along your bud and your breath catches in your throat.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and he purrs in response. The hardness of his fat, veiny cock brushes against your stomach and you dig your knee into him, smirking when he’s caught off guard, sharply inhaling.

Your hand replaces the knee rubbing into the skin, fingertips scratching along his shaft the way you do his scalp with the same loving, close attention. Whatever sells the idea to him—you have surrendered, in a state of acceptance, sheer indifference to the man caving above you. He groans, eyebrows scrunching and you relish in this small moment where you do possess some power over him.

Because he does quiver beneath your touch, starves for your approval in spite of what he may say to your face.

“I adore you,” he murmurs between your breasts, peppering heated kisses along the skin, reverent, bewitched by you, and yes, he may have deluded himself into thinking every action of his is an act of devotion to you.

But you don’t, won’t, and can’t trust him.

Your hand grasps the base of his cock and his eyes nearly bulge as he chokes on a desperate gasp, resting his head between your breasts to ground himself. Steam from the water beating down your bodies begins to fog the space around the two of you, but now you kneel.

You let him believe whatever he desires. It has worked better for you this way. You kiss the tip of his cock, leaking, swollen and needy, like the rest of him and he growls, bony hand clutching onto the back of your skull as you inch some of his cock into the velvety walls of your mouth.

That’s a mistake. Because from above you hear him utter a feral snarl before jerking his hips so he can bully his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting your throat—

—you don’t get a chance to react, he doesn’t give you a chance to, when he’s fucking himself so deep in your mouth, and all of your groans are pacified by his girth.

You’re impressed you don’t slip or lose your balance, when he bucks into you a final time, holding your head in place as stringy streams of seed shoot down your throat.

You don’t need him to command you—you swallow all of his load, audibly, and he smirks down at you in approval, affection shining in deep indigo eyes. Your face is flushed, and he eases you off of his length, a line of spit still connecting your lips to the tip of his cock which you break with a swipe of your tongue. He cups your face as he helps you to your feet, thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

“My perfect girl,” he gushes, and you say nothing, as the water rushes down your bodies.

“What happened to bathing me?” you quip, eyes half mast. Geto laughs at that, reaching over your shoulder for your shampoo bottle.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he states as he begins to emulsify the formula between his hands before pampering you.

Once you get out of the shower, you massage lotion into his skin once you’ve both dried yourselves off, murmuring something about how he should take some time to restore himself before tossing himself so carelessly into work.

You swipe a bit of eye cream along his eye bags.

“It’d be wise to take better care of yourself, Suguru,” you state, pecking his lips. “It’s not a good look for a leader if he can’t show up at his best for his subjects.”

Chuckling, Geto brings your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he vows, “I love you, little dove.”

You, once again, say nothing, but he takes your silence as a response, pressing a kiss to your temple as you both slink back to bed.

Suguru Geto is an anomaly.

An anomaly you don’t care enough to compartmentalize and dissect in a thorough examination thinking you might crack something, because there is no true depth in him.

Only a kind of emptiness that he’s cursed to be burdened with, and he’s taken you along for the ride.

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kryptznnn · 4 months ago

Text

♛/♡ -Tragedy II

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

➸ INTERESTS; - aged up!neteyam x omatikayan f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - Love at first sight doesn’t exist, everyone knows that. There’s attraction, reaction, and understanding someone to call something love. Neteyam wasn’t sure what it was that he felt for you, but whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.6.5k, mentions of heat cycles, rejection, one sided love, unrequited affection, kissing, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, ejaculation consumption, teasing, dominant fem lead, clouded judgement, mating, biting, blood mentions, etc.

➸a.i; - whoo!! finished this up i hope you guys enjoy it, sorry it took me so long it’s been a really bad week! but im working on other fics and reqs in my inbox (i’ve had since nov-dec) trying to get all the old stuff out first to get to new ideas!! thank u so much for the love! also this lowkey isn't proofread

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

♛/♡ Tragedy I

Neteyam was a good man, a good brother, a good if not great son. Which is why it was so surprising hearing and witnessing him speaking back to his parents for the first time ever. His father complained how worried his mother and grandmother have been about finding a mate for him in order to pass the responsibility Jake had been harboring for over two decades to the next, and Neteyam had simply responded how he didn't care.

He was lying.

As soon as he had mentioned he found someone his father was quick to take his side, smiling at him softly before whispering with his wife to the side, who only shook her head. Her mother had already decided what needed to be done, with or without his approval, the average time of courting would naturally take months, and it was months they didn't have.

The people needed a strong ruler with an even stronger woman by his side. The position of tsahik wasn't a problem, Kiri could always fill it, as she's had the best and most practices from her grandmother, but Neteyam's situation was more complicated. Even as he watched his parents speak to one another he wasn't sure what kind of power his father had over his mother.

He would always give her some look, like a pleading look almost or just a caress to her face in order to swoon her, and it always worked. Maybe it was love, it had to be, his grandmother had spoken to him about how love comes in many shapes or forms but can never be denied. Somehow watching his parents interact before his father placed a kiss on his mother's forehead reminded him of you, and your interaction from earlier in the afternoon on the beach.

It was night now, the sky was bleak and cloudy, the stars hadn't shined as bright as they usually had, almost as if the night sky was mourning as he was. Mourning the loss of love, he was so close to having you to himself and now he felt as if he was going back to square one. It hurt him, but he didn't feel like crying, or getting upset to the point he'd lash out at others around him, he just sat on the cold wooded floors and propped his knees to his chest.

His back was now facing his parents as he watched the sky, asking himself what you were probably doing by this time. Maybe bathing or eating with your family, helping clean up the aftermath or reading to your younger sister. You could've been sewing or beading clothing together for you to wear on special occasions as he watched you do a few months ago.

Or maybe your family was all out and busy for the night and you were all alone at home, waiting for some company. He was sure he could provide you more than just company, making his time with you highly worthwhile, but yet again it would probably be better to talk things out about what happened earlier. Or maybe you two didn't need too talk anything out, when things happen between two people who can't help themselves it's meant to be.

The two of you were meant to be, that sounded satisfactory, it definitely pleased him, bringing a smile to his face. He was so used to growing up and sacrificing things for his sibling's happiness or just too tired to fight for it. He was grateful for that actually, listening to the way his father was raised and the life he lived on the stars from above pained him, no one should live a life like that, but his father always reminded him if he hadn't gone through any of that he wouldn't be blessed in the future to be reborn.

Maybe his father was right, thankfully to him he was grown into a responsible young man, athletic, intelligent, and handsome, there was nothing but greatness in him. He felt more than responsible about you though and just wasn't sure as to why. It was something like a craving or poison in his mind that was stuck there forever.

It would make his insides itch and his outsides hot; it's almost like when you sit out in the sun for too long with dry skin and start to feel discomfort. But the sun feels so nice when you've been in the cold for so long and have nothing else to turn too, that's how he felt about you. You haunted his mind in such an eerie way, and at first, he had even had his grandmother check him for illness 'just because', sure you had done something to him, but nothing came back.

He yearned and grieved for your affection as if you had passed away, like a ghost he could only breath in whenever he closed his eyes. He was sure if anyone was able to hear or read his mind, they'd call him crazy, but he didn't feel that way, he felt free. Soon enough, snapping him out of his trance was a woman walking beside him, one he hadn't seen before.

Or maybe he had seen her before, he just hadn't remembered. His head followed her movements as she made her way behind him, walking towards his parents and taking her side beside them. This immediately made Neteyam spring to his feet and follow behind, raising a brow.

His father introduced the two of them to one another, speaking of their affiliations and granting Neteyam the choice to at least keep their new guest busy and grow fond of her before making a solid decision of his future. He knew his father well, his voice was laced with responsibility and seriousness, but in all honesty, it was mainly code for 'be nice to her and go court whoever it is you wanted'.

He was listening, his ears flicked slightly listening to the woman introduce herself and pronounce her name. 'Fa'nyma', strange name, completely different from yours, but it seemed to suit her somewhat. She was shorter than you, he took notice of her hair was much longer on some part, and she wore lots of jewelry. Maybe it was to impress him, but he could only think of how those jewels would've looked against your skin, your smile.

He smiled to himself and nodded, quickly changing his face into a stir of a frown and turned his attention back to his parents in order for Fa'nyma to not get the wrong idea. He knew better than to be rude, especially to a woman, it's not the way he was raised to be at all, so he would be cordial with her, that he agreed on.

But that kind of promise became difficult to keep when it came to the fact that she practically followed him everywhere. He had planned to come and see you in your kelku, only for her to be right behind him. It would be very problematic to explain the fact that a woman is following him around the entire village as she's now his responsibility.

It had been three days since then, Neteyam had always thought to himself what was an easy way to say, "Leave me the fuck alone", not a nice way, he didn't want to be nice with her. He wanted to sound easy on the ears, but harsh enough for the conversation to get no farther than her understanding and leaving.

Then again, he's sure she wouldn't even understand what the word "fuck" means. It was a sky people term, and his parents had only used it whenever they hit their toe against something or messed up badly or were just upset beyond the point of explanation. His brother cursed often too, practically being more fluent in cursing than his mother's tongue. This is ridiculous, why is it that whenever he's so ready to get something for himself obstacles just throw themselves in his way.

"Fa'nyma" he spoke, placing his bow and arrow down in his hut before removing his headpiece, letting his braids rest on the side of his face before tying them back. She hummed in response, turning to him from the entrance of his kelku and smiling at him. "I'm going out somewhere now, so I'll need you to leave." He spoke solidly, turning his attention away from her when he noticed her cheeky look.

"Don't you want me to accompany you to wherever you're going?" She spoke, Neteyam sucked his teeth lightly before rolling his eyes. She must be one of the stupidest people he's ever met, even his youngest sister Tuk would know if he had said something like that, he would want to be alone. Did it genuinely look like he wanted her company? Or that he enjoyed her company so much he would've said yes?

"I don't enjoy your company, and I won't need it anymore." He said with an attitude, grabbing a small bag in the corner of his room and placing it over his shoulder with a clunk. He soon ushered her out of his room and hut before leaving himself, not even looking behind him to see her.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

"Y/n" he spoke with a smile, standing in the middle of the tree of voices. He had spent nearly all afternoon looking for you, now being nightfall as he saw you. Your back was facing him, but he knew it was you, he could tell by your scent, your hair, everything.

After spending nearly all of his time with Fa'nyma it was refreshing to see you, to breath you, and to touch you. He was quick to reach a hand out to your shoulder, watching as you spun around slightly for his hand to fall off your shoulder and back up slightly. You weren't smiling, which worried him, he wasn't sure what look you were giving him, but it wasn't one he was expecting.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, definitely taken aback wearing a confused but more hurt look on your face. After having such a passionate moment with a man, you weren’t surprised for it to end so quickly, what you didn’t expect was for him to leave you, especially for three days.

“I’m here to see you of course, I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, but you have no idea how happy I am to see you aga-“

“It’s been three days Neteyam.” You cut him off harshly, now beginning to become upset, he spoke as if no time had passed. “You kissed me and left me for three days, but it’s easy for you to walk around with Fa’nyma.” You said, earning a flared look from him at your last words.

He was quick to place the bag he was holding down, now holding both of your hands with his own hands. He looked at you with a look of desperation, pledging with you almost to hear him out.

“I don’t like her; it wasn’t up to me I swear it. I told her off this morning, I want nothing to do with her, only with you.” He said, smiling somewhat softly as you again to see you smile as well. He knew something like this would happen, he was ready for it of course, but he knew no matter how things would’ve ended he wouldn’t let you go.

He would apologize anyway he had to, such as bringing you gifts or flowers and fruits, maybe kneeling and pleading with you. He knew you well enough to know you had a soft spot for him, for everyone mostly. Maybe it was childish to feel a pang of jealousy broil in his chest over that topic, but he couldn’t help it.

He liked you, he really liked you, liked you so much he wasn’t sure what to do with himself and he would practically fuck himself over again and again. Maybe it was love, maybe he loved you, he had always had the perfect example of it growing now and all he cares about is making it a reality with you.

And he did just that, apologizing to you over and over and sitting you down on the glowing floor beneath the two of you as he gave you everything from his bag. He practically showered you in gifts you hadn’t seen before, small jewels and crystals from the star above as you had a wide smile on your face.

He had told you he wanted to court you, earn you the right way, in order to bring you towards his family, the proper way. He even slid in a joke about how if things had escalated on the beach everything would be entirely different now, making you laugh.

You were so beautiful, everything about you was so beautiful, your laugh, the way you fluttered your lashes at him as you listened to him speak, or maybe how you kept your skin in contact with his no matter where the two of you were. You weren't afraid to show him off or hint there was something between the two of you and it drove him mad.

He was so quick to mention your name to his family so often that they had no other choice but to force Fa’nyma out of the picture. He thought of himself as a bad person for a short while, purposely flaunting your capabilities and beauty in front of the other woman to watch her face stir with jealousy as he had a sinister smirk plastered on his face.

He must’ve been crazy, in both good and bad ways, but it’s deemed excused because he’s crazy in love, crazy in love for you. So crazy that now after just a few weeks of courting he’s itching to bring things to another level.

He was patient, everyone knew it. He was trained to be at such a young age, like when catching fish with his father, those lessons taught him nothing more than the importance of time. Good things come to those who wait, he had you, but to fully tie the bond between you two he had to be patient.

Love is something that can’t be rushed, patience is a large factor between two people, almost like a test to see what’ll happen under pressure. Sadly, as of right now it felt as if Neteyam was losing, if not losing his mind in the process. Laying on his bedside within his empty kelku, listening to the cold winds outside blow around it and pick up on the small, piped chimes outside his hut entrance his youngest sister made for him.

He couldn’t sleep, his mind was racing, and he felt so empty, and the thought of you was just making up upset. It stirred something inside him he couldn’t entirely understand, all he could think of now was wanting you.

No,

He needed you.

Attached to your affection and presence like a newborn to its mother or father’s skin in order to thrive and feel their love. He wasn’t sure why tonight was so different from the rest, but he couldn’t stay here, something felt off, so he did the only thing he could do and set out into the forests.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

A simple way of remembering people is by their scent, which Neteyam was familiar with. What he hadn’t been familiar with was your scent being so strong to the point where he paused in his steps and shielded his face, squinting.

It was strange he was able to pick up your scent here of all places, it was in the complete opposite direction of your home. So of course, he did none other than follow it to find you, but what he saw was nothing of what he expected.

“Y/n” he called out, removing his arm from his face to take in your state, hunched over on the floor by a tree whimpering. You hadn’t answered his call, and when he came to you and placed a hand on your skin you hissed at him, slapping his hand away.

He was appalled to say the least, your skin was burning, and your behavior was erratic, since when were you so defensive? A click quickly came to mind, you must’ve been uncomfortable, or afraid, especially to react that way with him of all people.

He was quick to scan the surroundings of the two of you to emphasize the fact that you weren’t alone, someone had definitely been here before he came towards you, lurking. Neteyam was quick to suck his teeth, already piecing together the situation playing out before reaching out to you again.

You were in heat, he felt so stupid letting it slide over his head as he had originally had it calculated. Usually within the middle of every month you disappear for only a handful of days before returning, only this time it seems to have come a little earlier than expected.

You had a shawl sprawled out to your side as you stayed huddled into a ball, fidgeting around as Neteyam made his way behind you, hugging you and rubbing circles into your back. Maybe it was because you weren’t in your best mind, but right now you felt like biting him.

Not in a bad way, in a good way, to draw blood and pleasure yourself, not necessarily to harm him. There was something about how soothing his scent felt that the scent of the other navi man lurking in the woods prior seemed to gently fade away. You paid no mind to him as you turned into Neteyam’s embrace, snuggling into his chest with a slight purr and whine.

You felt so hot, and itchy, the cool night breeze hadn’t helped you quick enough, but Neteyam’s body had. His chest was firm and cool, like how the ponds or lakes underneath the waterfalls felt, making you smile softly.

It wasn’t enough to stop your pain and itch, but it was just enough to calm you to a certain extent, his words slurring in your brain as he spoke. You had only responded with slight hums, not sure you’d be capable of responding back in sentences.

He was quick to pick you up to your feet, caressing your face and asking you something. Whatever it was he was quick to take your groan as an answer, now holding you hand in hand as he made his way through the forests, occasionally turning back to take in your ill state.

You weren’t sure what path he was taking, it certainly wasn’t the path to your home, or the main village, but the trees you two passed by before coming to a halt smelled similar to Neteyam. He was gentle, letting you climb up into an unfamiliar place before following right after you, his hand locking right back with yours as his other held your shawl.

He spoke to you again, but your ears remained out of focus, now picking up on the small sound of pattering coming from behind you. You turned slowly, your head hurting as you watched the rain fall. You turned back slowly, placing each hand on the sides of your head, feeling as if someone had taken a bone and hit the sides of your head repeatedly.

You only groaned, slumping over slightly before feeling Neteyam’s hands grab onto your side, ushering you further into the room and sitting you down somewhere comfortably. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, feeling his firm hands leave your body you shot them open, taking in your surroundings as you lowered your hands.

You placed your hands down at the bedside you sat on, dragging your fingers across the woven blankets. This must’ve been his home, the entire place was drenched in his scent, it seemed vacant and cold, it must’ve been the way he liked it. You were quick to bring the edge of the blanket to your nose, inhaling its scent with a slight moan, feeling a rush of adrenaline rush through your body and down to your core.

You lowered the blanket as you heard him returning shortly, crossing your legs and angling them in a position to give you pleasure. Biting back a moan as you clenched around nothing you watched as he came over, giving you a small bowl filled with water for you to drink. You smiled softly at him, taking the bowl into your shaky hands before he covered your hands with his before helping you drink it.

His hands are so large, just like you had remembered about him initially the first time he helped you pick out the fruits from the trees. They practically covered yours if not entirely in length, nearly striking a wave of embarrassment in you. As you finished you were sure he had told some sort of joke, pointing to outside before chuckling back at you.

You only batted your eyes and smiled even wider, nodding at him. You were sure that it had done something to him because he looked away and swallowed hard before leaving the room again. As he made his time quick he came to your side, now sitting beside you and taking your hands into his, speaking again, as your heat grew stronger another wave coursed through your body.

And of course you wasted no time turning to his side, resting your head on his collarbone and inhaling his scent. If you had some sort of shame left before your heat had stripped it from you there would be a possibility you’d have pulled back or apologized, but right now you just didn’t care.

His scent was driving you insane, practically flooding your mind as you caressed yourself into his skin with soft mewls and moans that echoed in his ears. He was more than flustered to say the least, but he had come to a decision on how to help you in any way possible. He simply brushed your hair away from your face to get your attention, which worked before he spoke in sure of you to hear him.

“Use me how you seem fit.” He said sternly, flashing you a toothy smile afterwards. He watched as your pupils blew out nearly full wide, no longer seeing the color of your irises before you turned your head back into his collarbone. You were quick with your actions, licking and nipping at his skin before making your way up to his neck.

A soft kiss was applied to a sweet spot before you licked it, prepping your canines into his flesh before sinking them in slowly. If it hurt it harsh enough you were sure that when you had sense again you’d apologize for it, just not now, not while you enjoyed lapping up the small trickles of blood that dribbled down his warm skin.

Not while you suddenly leap a leg over him, now straddling him as you continued to kiss him. He had barely moved as much as he wanted to, only following your lead and placing his hands on your back as support. He was quick to pull your head in for a kiss to your lips once you finished with his neck of course, this time being more forceful and sinister than the kiss you two had shared previously.

There was a small part of Neteyam that knew this wasn’t the right thing to do, at least some of it. You weren’t in your right mind and the two of you hadn’t been mated, well at least not yet. If anything, that small feeling quickly went away when he too felt himself slipping into the dizzy and foggy feeling of your heat now affecting him.

He had heard stories of something like this before, heats being able to spread towards one another to a certain extent. Things like that could only happen if that individual wanted to share it, and that seemed to be happening at this moment.

You wanted him to feel how you felt, understand how good it felt to be in this situation, as much as you itched or your skin burned, nothing could have been better than easing the pain with someone that made you feel so good.

You liked Neteyam, you were sure of it. Your family liked him too, he was considerate, gentle, humorous, and well put. He made you feel loved, cherished, and satisfactory; he could never say no to you and spoiled you with anything you wanted. Spoiling the one you love comes to a certain extent and giving them whatever they want comes with a price, like as of now when you began to untie your top and loincloth, attempting to untie his as well.

He was quick to grab both of your arms, bringing you to a short halt. You were completely nude now, watching as he took in your full appearance before looking up into your eyes. He was quick to shake his head, a signal of rejection to you, making you frown heavily and whine, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

He spoke, not sure entirely what he was speaking of, but you were sure he muttered along the lines of ‘being responsible’ when reading his lips, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head. There was no way he would leave you in a time like this after escalating the situation so far for the night, you yanked your arms from his grasp before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, whining.

“Please, please, please teyam, hurts so bad, need you, need you here.” You mumbled, grinding against his painful bulge from his shifted loincloth, taking his hand into yours and placing it over your lower pelvis. You watched as he groaned softly, turning his head as his ears flickered around, as if contemplating his next move. You were quick to turn your head in the direction his was turned too, kissing him first this time, wasting no time in forcing your tongue into his mouth.

He only melted at the action, quickly obliging and letting his hands roam your body. He was quick to squeeze you and tease you, letting his fingertips graze over your nipples as you moaned into his mouth, and he moans back. He kept his right hand over your breast, swirling small circles around your nipple and tugging on it every now and again as his left hand followed its way down between your legs.

Your moans now grew louder, more bass coming from them as they rumbled in your chest and throat, breaking the kiss with Neteyam as a small string of saliva was split between you too. You rested your head on the side of his cheek as your moans continued, rumbling directly into his ear, making his breath heavier than before. He only took notice to quicken his actions, his thumb circling your clit gently as his fingers thrusted inside of you.

This much arousal was getting painful in his case, he was sure he had never been this whipped ever no matter what woman he was with. You were so beautiful, your voice, your body, your movements had him captivated, if anything he wished he could stop time just for this moment. He could hardly even feel his fingers, the way they were coated if not dripping in your arousal he slipped in and out so easily it was insane.

What was even more foolish was the fact for just a split second he became jealous of his own fingers, wanting to be inside you himself with his tongue instead, but the way you fidgeted on his lap and begged for more he knew that was something to wait for another time. So, he continued, now drawing his full attention to your face as he watched your body shudder when he curved his fingers, his fingertips grazing against your insides.

He took his hand away from your breasts, now grabbing the side of your face and watching your expression, your skin was still hot, but that hadn’t bothered him. He was more focused on trying to not cum by just the sight of you. Your hair was a mess, your face was flushed and hot, saliva dripping down your lips wasn’t helping, especially when you were panting heavily like an animal with your hooded eyes.

And there it was, that cheeky little smile you do whenever you know you’ve got his attention, batting your lashes at him. He hated that you knew how to get to him so easily, especially at a time like this, it’s as if even though he’s the one pleasuring you, you were doing the same in his favor, and he was definitely right when he watched you come undone on his lap, practically shouting his name as your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails digging into him as your body jerked forward, shuddering harshly as your orgasm washed over you.

You had no time to catch your breath as Neteyam kissed you sloppily, pulling his fingers out of you as you whimpered into his mouth at the feeling of the emptiness, clenching around nothing. You hadn’t pleaded or begged like before, only finishing your previous work and untying the rest of his loincloth before picking it up, watching as he sucked on his fingers with a small smirk.

You looked away nervously at his actions, placing his loincloth up to your nose and inhaling its scent, kissing it and tossing it behind you as you made sure Neteyam watched you. He only shook his head with a smile, his face flushed as he watched you, grazing his fingertips over your breasts yet again.

“Not satisfied?” He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he watched you, your eyes locked onto his body, trailing down until seeing what was hidden underneath his loincloth, making you shudder. After your intense orgasm prior, the heavy cloud of your heat wasn’t as thick as before, now you had at least a little bit of your mind left, now asking yourself if the size was too much to bear.

“Mm-mh” you muttered, shaking your head from side to side as you made your way to grab onto his sex, jolting slightly as you watched it bounce up to hit his lower abdomen. He only chuckled at you as he watched your actions, you had hardly paid any mind to him, now taking it into your hand and fisting it slightly, listening to his soft groans as the entirety of it was coated in precum.

You only smiled to yourself, raising your hips up high as you rubbed the tip onto your core, bucking your hips and moaning harshly as it flicked over your sensitive clit. As quick as the small cloud left your body it was just as quick to hit you, returning to your womb like a storm, making you chew down on your bottom lip out of frustration as you grunted.

Eywa, you felt so empty, as if you’ve been starving for days. Starving for a man to feed off of, starving for your man, your mate, to feed you. This was overwhelming, none of your heats had taken this much of an effect on you, and this physical connection wasn’t enough to share with him, you want him to see, hear, breath, and know you, not just feel you.

“Tsaheylu” you mumbled, reaching behind the back of your head to your kuru, bringing it over your shoulder as you looked down at him slightly. His reaction seemed to be one of surprise or understanding, you weren’t sure which to pick off of, no matter there were no words shared between the two of you in that moment, he only copied your movements.

Before the small tendrils of your kurus could fuse together, you sunk down onto him slowly, both of you breathy and sticky, moans mixing between the two of you. You hadn’t moved and neither had he, taking in one another before making tsaheylu, the same second of the bond between the two of you making you whimper as you rested your head on his shoulder, crying quietly.

It was so intense, as if flashing lights and music had been playing amongst the midst of everything already happening between the two of you. After a few seconds you could hear it, hear and feel how Neteyam felt for you, at first when you felt the warming in your chest you had initially expected it to be your heat, bubbling even harder now. That wasn’t the case, it was his feeling towards you, how his heart raced when he saw you or saw your smile, and how he felt now as he had you nestled on him.

It felt so nice, sharing this feeling and pain with another, lifting the burden off of yourself and having a mate to call your own. Before you were even able to speak Neteyam was quick to hoist himself up in a comfortable position, making you moan out softly.

“I know, I know tiwan. Gonna make you feel better yeah? Right here baby? I know what you need.” He spoke, placing his hand back over your pelvis and abdomen. The word he spoke prior sounded foreign to you, you could tell in the context it was a pet name, just not sure exactly what kind it could’ve been. Before you were able to pick up on that thought you felt Neteyam’s hands grab your behind in a firm manner before thrusting himself in and out of you at a kept pace.

You moaned into his shoulders now as he quickened his pace, making you clench around him. He didn’t like this position at all, don’t get him wrong you felt amazing, this moment was amazing, but he wanted to see you, see your face. He knew how you felt due to your bonding yes, but it wasn’t enough, he needs more.

Which is what led him to waste no time in standing up as he held onto you and turning around, laying you down as he towered over you, neither him leaving from inside you or your tsaheylu breaking. Cooing you as you whimpered and fidgeted against him, pulling him down onto you so you could inhale his scent from his side, but he wasn’t having it.

He rested in his knees now, thrusting into you painfully slow, listening to your groans and complaints with a grin. He liked being cocky, it felt good, especially if it got under your skin and he got to watch you react, it was amusing.

The longer the night continued the less amusing things became however, especially for the both of you. As of now Neteyam had lost track of time, and amount of positions the two of you had been in, but now you were on the floor, the room smelling like nothing but sex and sweat as you both moaned.

Neteyam had tried every other way to satisfy your needs without knotting you, but that’s all you had begged for at this time. None of your other orgasms being enough to get rid of the emptiness within you, he just hadn’t thought you were ready for it.

His last worries was getting you pregnant, it could only happen if he was also in rut, which wasn’t anytime soon, but knotting someone is dangerous (and also something he’s never done before). You were an animal, and that was no exaggeration, from the sweat and cum that had pooled on the bedside and floor your skin and fingertips had gotten wrinkly, along with Neteyam’s, but apparently you hadn’t even cared.

“Please, need it, so emptyyy” you whined, poking at the fat knot at the base of Neteyam’s cock that had been poking at your entrance for some time. Your face was wet with tears and sweat as you threw your fit, moaning as he postponed himself deeper in you to where his knot grazed against your clit.

In a matter of seconds, you were practically fucking him back, arching your back slightly as you pushed back with just as much force he thrusted into you. You could feel it, his knot was practically teasing you in a way you couldn’t explain, it felt like some sort of craze or rush that was driving you mad, mad in a way you drew a smile to your face, chanting praises over and over again before hearing a pop and a painful stretch.

Neteyam halted his movements, a loud moan escaping his lips as his knot had finally entered you. He had towered over you, his chest pressing against your back as you clawed at the floor in desperation. It wasn’t necessarily painful, more uncomfortable as it was a feeling you weren’t used too, and the cloud of your heat had covered most of it.

But oh how full you felt, the pain, tears, and cries from before all seemed to just vanish as you felt the knot lowering, now being filled with Neteyam’s cum at a quick pace. Now you felt full, and in the best way possible, it was all you had truly wanted and finally your needs were satisfied.

You sighed out in satisfaction, feeling him kiss on your neck and back softly before caressing your body. You purred back into him as you felt him move gently and slowly, picking the two of you up off the floor to his bedside, removing the dirty blanket from there before and laying there with you, still back to chest.

“Thank you” you said to him, taking his hand and kissing it with a smile as you felt him smile from behind you. He only played with your hair as he heard you yawn, taking in your small and tired state.

“Mm-hmm, so proud of you baby, did so good.” He spoke, placing a kiss onto your head as he drew faint circles in your back as he watched you drift off to sleep. He smiled to himself before remembering he was still stuck for a while, hopefully he wouldn’t wake you if he pulled out.

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joelslastofus · 1 year ago

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[SUMMARY: Home from college, your father is Joel’s neighbor. Joel one night witnesses your drunk father lock you out of the house late at night and comes to the rescue. ]

“Let me take a look at your arm” he turned back to you for the first time seeing you under a light realizing your white tank top became transparent. The sight of your hard nipples peeking through making him quickly look away clearing his throat.

Sexual tension, big age difference

Summer was finally here which meant you were finally on break and able to go back home. You loved being at back at home, most of the time even if it meant seeing your drunk father who wasn’t the easiest man to get along with. It was hard to understand how he got along with your neighbor Joel, you didn’t know him very well but he was your typical southern gentleman. Always offered to help you get your stuff out the car if your dad wasn’t around when he’d see you return, it’d be hard to lie and say you didn’t have a small crush on him.

That night was like any other, except it was pouring rain out, it was thundering loudly and your father was more drunk than usual. Your father had a few men come over that you’d never met before, you could feel their eyes all over you when you walked to the kitchen for some water. The music getting louder you could barely hide from it in your room. All the noise felt like a typical night in your dorm room with parties next door.

“Dad” you hesitantly tapped on his shoulder as he took a sip of his drink.

“I’m sorry, but do you mind lowering the music just a bit? I was hoping to get some sleep, I already have had a lot of trouble sleeping and-“

“Listen here kid…..this is what I do while you’re off in college….i ain’t stopping just cause you’re here” he purposely turned the music louder as he laughed with his friends. Annoyed by his actions you walked to your bedroom and slammed your door shut which quickly silenced his laughter. Throwing yourself in your bed you were startled by your father busting through the door.

“And who do you think you are slamming doors in my house?!”

“Dad-“

“You know…-“ he began to slur.

“It was so much…better….when you weren’t here…” he continued as you noticed the men watching from down the hall.

“This is not what I came here for” you whispered angrily.

“What did you say?” He raised a brow leaning towards you as you quickly walked around him out of your room. You walking away from him only seem to anger him more as he quickly caught up to you and grabbed you by your arm.

“Ow dad! Let go!” You tried to release your arm from his grasp until he began dragging you to the front door.

“Stop it! What are you doing?!”

“You wanna disrespect me in my house….in front of my guests…-“ he opened the door and continued to yell not knowing Joel was out side under his balcony next door, the sound of your father yelling catching his attention.

“Maybe next time…you’ll have more respect!”Unexpectedly your father pushed you out making you fall to the ground. Joel quickly stood up but before you could say a word your father slammed the door in your face.

“Dad!” You screamed in shock, you couldn’t believe what he was doing. Joel quickly made his way to you, the sound of his voice surprising you through the hard rain.

“You alright?” He reached his hand out towards you. Silently you took hold of it, he easily pulled you up to your feet as you winced noticing your elbow was pretty badly scraped.

“That’s alright” Joel looked at your arm.

“I can clean that up for ya, darlin’”

Still in shock staring at your door you didn’t respond. Did your father really just lock you out? In the rain late at night?

“My-my dad-“

“Come on, let’s get you inside” Joel didn’t waste time, taking your hand he led you next door to his house as you looked back at yours.

It was warm out but the rain was coming down hard and so you became completely drenched. Joel quickly unlocked his door letting you in as you hesitantly walked in not wanting to wet his floor.

“It’s alright” he placed his hand on your back gently guiding you to the kitchen. It didn’t seem like anyone was home yet you still felt awkward.

You felt embarrassed but Joel only seemed concerned. Still, what a way for your neighbor to see you getting thrown onto the concrete like if you were trash.

“Look I’m sorry about this, he’s just drunk right now, I’m sure he’ll open the door again-“

“Ain’t a bother, darlin’” he proceeded to turn on the lights and go through his drawer for a band aid and towel for you.

“You ok?” You asked him as he refused to look back walking toward his room.

“Let me get you a change of clothes” he called out walking in his room before quickly returning with a pair of sweats and a t shirt of his.

“The bathroom is down to your right” he motioned towards the door as you thanked him taking the clothes.

Once in the bathroom you looked at yourself in the mirror realizing your breasts were fully visible through your shirt.

“Oh my god” you whispered, your cheeks turning a dark shade of red from embarrassment. No wonder he offered you a change of clothes.

A part of you thinking it was sweet he didn’t say a thing and embarrass you, instead simply offering you something to change in. Even sweet how he stopped himself from looking but little did you know how hard it was for him to keep his eyes away.

Joel always had a gentleman charm about him, it was your favorite thing about him.

Once you came out of the bathroom Joel was sitting on the edge of the couch watching something on tv until you caught his eye. Looking down and fixing your shirt you hadn’t noticed the way he was looking at you. Joel didn’t know what was worse for him, your transparent shirt or seeing you in his clothes. A navy blue shirt that you tied to the side and a pair of sweatpants that were giving you some trouble to tie and stay in place.

“These are comfortable” you sighed looking up as he stood up.

“I’m just having trouble keeping them in place”

“Yeah, those always give me trouble. C’mere” he walked towards you grabbing the strap to help you fix it. You hadn’t expected him to get so close, you watched as he focused trying to create a knot so it wouldn’t move. His fingers casually brushing against your skin making your heart race. His hair was damp slick back from the rain, a way you had never seen before but you had to admit you liked the look.

“That should do it” he looked up and just for a few seconds the two of you locked eyes before he quickly looked away.

“Thank you” you smiled as he took a few steps back and sat back on the couch.

“Look don’t worry, I won’t be here for long…I know Sarah-“

“Sarah’s at a sleepover, Tommy’s working a night shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as ya need tonight…beside I saw what he did and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back till he sobers up” he crossed his arms leaning back.

“I don’t even know what got into him, then those assholes that were there-“

“What assholes?” He furrowed his brows leaning forward.

“He bought some losers over, guess they found the way he was acting towards me hilarious” Joel showed disapproval with what you expressed looking back out his window toward your house.

“I never seen this side of your father but frankly…I don’t like it” he spoke in a serious tone. Joel hadn’t taken his eyes off your house seeing your father through the window laughing with his friends.

“Alcohol and my father is probably the worst combination” you responded as he remained silent.

Lost in his thoughts he was suddenly distracted by you laughing looking over at the tv.

“Oh I haven’t seen this movie in forever” Joel watched as you excitedly sat down on the couch beside him, surprised you were into something he liked.

“Mind if we stay watching this?” You asked looking up at him.

“Course not, darlin’” he comfortably sat back with his legs open watching the movie with you. Joel could see the sadness in your eyes although you tried to use the movie as a distraction. He didn’t push the topic and decided to enjoy the movie with you.

“How’s your arm?” He asked realizing you had cleaned it up in the bathroom.

“It’s fine, nothing big just a scratch” you assured him as you sighed and went back to the movie.

Time went by and before you knew it your eyes grew heavy. Joel and you both closing your eyes around the same time without realizing it before eventually falling asleep.

Hours had gone by and Joel slowly began to wake up realizing the sun was coming up. Still half asleep he went to move before realizing you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder, your hand on his arm until you began to slowly move. Your eyes slowly opening you suddenly realized that you were leaning on Joel, slowly looking up you found him staring down at you. Neither of you said a word, neither of you moved yet you noticed him look down at your lips. Joel slowly began to lean forward as you did when the sound of the front door unlocking caused you both to quickly separate.

“Mornin’ big brother” Tommy walked in before realizing his brother wasn’t alone. You stood up still looking half asleep fixing your shirt.

“Good mornin’” Tommy said in a surprised tone.

“Good morning, I…um I better go..” you quickly grabbed your clothes.

“You sure?” Joel asked following your movement.

“Yeah, I’m sure the doors open now or he’s sober. I’ll be fine” you assured him quickly pacing to the door.

“Hey- why don’t ya take my cell number in case ya need anythin’” quickly he grabbed a paper and pen as Tommy watched from the kitchen.

“Ok, yeah, thanks” you took the paper and smiled at him.

“Thanks again. I better go” Joel stood at the door watching you run to your porch, waiting to see your father open the door. His expression changing as he watched to make sure you were safe with your father until the door closed behind you.

“Micks daughter huh?” Tommy teased as Joel closed the door.

“It ain’t like that” he responded without looking at him.

“Really she spent the night, seems like it was like that.”

“She got locked out her house, her father’s a jackass. I just made sure she was ok through the night” Joel rubbed his eyes sitting back on the couch.

“Oh I’m sure you did” Tommy laughed before walking off to the room.

Truth was Joel knew he felt something more but you were young in college, something felt wrong about it.

Plus the last thing he wanted you to think was that he was taking advantage with the situation you had going on with your father.

Joel shook it off knowing nothing could come from that until his phone buzzed catching his attention.

Much quicker than he expected, there was a text from you thanking him again. Now he had your number and it only excited him more..

I will be working on a part 2 if you have any ideas let me know!

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fan fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction

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