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meadowscarlet · 26 days ago

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MONACO MAGIC | OP81

✩ — summary: oscar was known as the nonchalant mysterious guy who’s never been loud about his life—private and subtle he is—until monaco ‘25 happened.

✩ — oscar piastri x fem!reader

✩ — author’s note: kinda wanna make another oscar smau for barcelona gp just so i have an excuse to connect it w my club fcb lmfao

liked by random1, random2, random6 and 98,559 more

f1gossippofficial RARE PDA: F1’s most private star Oscar Piastri seen getting close with stunning woman in Monaco!

View all 10,337 comments

random IS THIS SHIT REALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

random OSCAR PIASTRI??? HOLDING HANDS??? IN PUBLIC??????

random i don’t think i’ve seen him willingly stay near a woman ever since he joined the grid 😭

random bye i don’t think i’ve seen him near a woman ever period

random PIASTRI U HAVE A CHAMPIONSHIP TO WIN

random bro lowk already did… sources says she’s gorgeous 🧘🏻‍♀️

random they gotta reveal who she is

random kinda scared some crazy fangirls might attack her

random we’re witnessing a new oscar piastri era and im here for it

random dating an f1 driver in his “prime” in monaco… she’s def a gold digger

random oh baby you’re so weird

random WHO IS SHE

random just from the back i can tell she’s insanely beautiful 😩

random oscar rlly said “let me just ruin the internet real quick”

random just wait until he hard launches her 😭

random 5 days before the monaco gp and oscar has the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever

liked by mclaren, random9, random4 and 104,533 more

f1 Rolling up to #F1TheMovie! 🤩 Our drivers have arrived for their private screening 💫

#F1 #Formula1

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random THE LAST SLIDE WHAT THE HELLLLLL

random why are they wearing their merch 💀

random OSCAR BROUGHT HIS MYSTERY GIRL TO THE PRIVATE SCREENING IM GENUINELY SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

random 😭😭😭😭 saw this first in the morning and was gagged by how gorgeous his girl is

random oscar piastri i was not familiar with your game

random f1 hard launched oscar and his gf before he did im in tears

random I FOUND OSCAR’S GF @youruser she looks like an angel 😭🩷 what a princess

random ya’ll so quick w it the fuckkshshaha

random monaco ‘25 oscar what have u planned for us this weekend…

random i can’t wait to see y/n in the paddock ��

random that clip on twitter of oscar holding her hand was so cute that man was not letting her go cuties 😭

random this is the most smiling oscar i’ve ever seen

random girl i think we’re about to get used to it starting now..

liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, bff1, bff2 and 89,443 more

youruser 🌸🌸💞💞🌸🌸💓💓

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random she went from 3k followers to 200k in one day how insane 😭

random this is her latest post, 4 days ago, and we’re all here bc of that one user who found her ig 😭

random girl i just stalked oscar’s followings after f1 posted her LMFOAJSWJJWHAH

oscarpiastri the prettiest ❤️

* ♥ by author

youruser thank u handsome ☺️

random EEEKKKK THEY’RE SO CUTE BYE

random fuck my single boring life 😭

random #need me a nonchalant man who’s only chalant to #me i feel sick

random scrolled through her posts and oscar’s always liking and commenting on it 😭 man is whipped asffff

random if u were my gf i’d be all over you too

random you are literally angel personified awh 😭

youruser you’re so sweet ☺️💗

random SO BEAUTIFUL

youruser haha thank u! 💖

random pink suits you so much 🥰🥹

youruser mwah ty angel 🥲🩷

random her replying to most replies she’s so adorable

random how did she bag THE oscar piastri…

random how did oscar piastri bag HER… let’s start asking the real questions here

hattiepiastri i missed u so much

youruser meet up soon? 😚

hattiepiastri YES

random awww her relationship with hattie 😭🫶🏼

random basically confirmed that they’ve been dating for a while. oscar choosing this time to finally reveal her is a crazy smart move 🙂‍↕️

bff1 my beautiful girl is famous don’t forget about me 😢💔

youruser i would never 😠 ily

random queen did u like the f1 movie

youruser haha 🤐

random GIRLSHSHHWHDHS

liked by f1, youruser, opeightyone, lnfour and 200,422 more

mclaren your starting duo for the #MonacoGP 🇲🇨 Lando takes POLE as OP81 secures a second-row seat 💪🏼 impressive work boys!

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youruser 🥐🧡☺️

random Y/NNNNN

random the emojis 😭😭😭

random hi y/nnnn 😍😍💕💕💕

random our queen

random pls attend the race tomorrowwww

random mclaren domination could never bore me

random this is basically the result for tomorrow’s race already

random both cooked 🔥

random WE ARE READY

random i pray for mclaren’s pit stops everyday

youruser has added to their story!

oscarpiastri replied to your story: wish you were here

youruser tomorrow! :)

oscarpiastri are you sure you want to baby? i know everything could be overwhelming

youruser osc i’ve been sure since i agreed to publicize our relationship this week and i want to fully support you without worrying about anything ❤️

oscarpiastri i love you so much

oscarpiastri replied to your story: you deserve everything good baby 🥰

youruser my sweet boy i love uuuuu

liked by random12, random7, random 5 and 11,423 more

ynlovebot she understood the assignment 😍 Y/N makes her first official appearance in the Monaco gp wearing a customized Mclaren beaded dress!

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random GODDESS

random the dress OH MY GODDD she matched the car. THE CAR. girl you didn’t have to go that hard 😭🔥

random princess of monaco confirmed

random the dress, the hair, the aura, she’s perfect

random oscar’s huge grin when he walked in the paddock with her 😭🫶🏼

random he hasn’t stopped smiling since 😭

random no because the fact that oscar piastri’s first public girlfriend reveal is in MONACO??? he’s so real for that

random bless Monaco 2025 🙏🏼

random oh this mclaren princess

liked by f1, youruser, mclaren, charles_leclerc and 563,445 more

oscarpiastri Monaco ‘25 just became a national holiday

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random the first slide im gagged we’ve been WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT.

random i just know he has been wanting to post her all over his feed 😭

* ♥ by author

random this hug is now my roman empire goodnight

random p3 baby y/n is his lucky charm 😭 we demand to see her in every race

random i’d podium too if she hugged me like that i fear

mclaren spectacular drive from OP81 🥐💪🏼

random MCLAREN USING Y/N’S SIGNATURE EMOJI HAHAHAHAH

random y/n saying i love you when oscar jogged up to her 😭😭😭 fawkkk

random and him hugging her so tight to the point her feet were not touching the ground THEYRE THE CUTEST

random the way his whole face changes when he looks at her.. my stomach

youruser monaco magic 🪄🧚🏻‍♀️

oscarpiastri where it all started 😘

random WAIT WHAT THE FCUK

random HE’S DROPPING SOME RANDOM LORE

random what if they got together when oscar moved to monaco 😭

random that would make this whole thing more adorable i love them bad

charles_leclerc 🔥🔥🔥

random another home race podium our consistent king

quadlock the fresh prince of Monaco 💙

random barcelona next prince 🏆🇦🇺🐨

random lessgooo wdc leader 🫡

random Awwww yall so cute…ᵃⁿⁿᵃᵇᵉˡˡᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ

random BITCHDHEHSH😭😭😭😭

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mclaren #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1

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j-psilas · 2 years ago

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I'm going to throw a stone at a hornet's nest and say that the TERFs who like to claim Alison Bechdel as one of their own lack basic reading comprehension—and worse still, they lack shame.

There's an actual, honest-to-goodness, authentic, genuine strip of Dykes to Watch Out For in which Mo gets called out for her transphobia when she whines about sharing a restroom with a trans woman. Moreover, she then becomes the victim of bathroom policing herself, because butch women don't fit the cis-hetero-normative mold. It's all right there in the text, plain as day.

Just because Bechdel is a butch lesbian, and prefers that identity over "trans man" or "nonbinary," doesn't mean that she rejects the theory and rhetoric that produced those labels. That's child logic.

Cherry-picking her work to support their bigotry, just so they can claim lineage from a distinguished queer writer, is not only stupid and easily debunked, but it's deeply insulting. It betrays how little TERFs actually care about LGBTQ rights, feminism, or literature.

Any so-called "radfems" interacting with this post will be blocked—thereby cleaning up the "Alison Bechdel" tag for my browsing, so I don't have to wade through a bunch of bigotry every time I scroll through it. Thank you in advance. ❤️

#Alison Bechdel #Dykes to Watch Out For #dtwof

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amazinglyashy · 8 months ago

Note

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #lnds #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #hurt/comfort #angst

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juleswritesstuff · 3 months ago

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The Pillow Contract

James Potter seems to have found the best pillow on earth. You.

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: none

James Potter liked to consider himself a man of simple pleasures.

A good meal ? Heaven. A lazy Sunday spent wrapped in a blanket burrito ? Perfection. A well-timed, sarcastic remark ? Chef’s kiss.

But above all else, there was one thing James had come to love more than anything in the world.

Your chest.

Well, you as a whole, of course. Body and soul alike. He was not a bloody prick, thank you very much.

He loved you for you, not just for the flawless vessel that carried your golden heart and your beautiful mind.

But he couldn't help the way he was especially drawn to the perfection that peeked from your neckline when your shirt hung a little lower than usual.

And he also could not, in good conscience, ignore the life-altering comfort that was that perfection.

Now, to be clear, James wasn’t just some guy obsessed with his girlfriend’s body –okay, maybe he was a little addicted.

But, come on, who could blame him when you were said girlfriend ?

He was supposed to be a bit obsessed with you, right ? That’s what every person in their sane, right and helplessly in love mind would be about their partner, no ?

Was that just him ?

Ok, fine, maybe he was a bit of a simp (read, you had him at your feet). So what ?

He liked it exactly like that. Sue him.

But this ? This was different.

This wasn’t just about attraction or some primal male instinct. No, this was about something sacred.

This was about comfort.

The kind that he’d accidentally stumbled upon one evening when you had curled up next to him on the couch, and his head had somehow –miraculously– ended up resting right on your chest.

That’s when he had discovered it.

The Holy Grail of pillows. The pinnacle of all headrests.

Your chest was perfect.

Warm. Soft. Inviting.

It had been life-changing. Existence-altering. World-stopping.

And in that moment, with his head resting against the softest, most heavenly cushion known to mankind, and your heart beating under his ear like a lullaby, James had made a decision.

He was never going back to regular pillows again.

Ever.

The problem was, he didn’t exactly know how to turn this into a permanent arrangement without looking like an absolute fool.

Which, really, was ironic, because James didn’t mind acting like the biggest dumbass in the world when it came to you. Not even a tiny bit.

The man had zero shame, and zero chill when you were involved.

If he had to beg ? Done.

If he had to bribe you with kisses ? Oh no, how awful.

If he had to declare his undying devotion in front of his friends and suffer their relentless teasing ? Call Sirius and Remus over, he was ready to suffer.

If he had to wear one of those, frankly quite obnoxious --yes, even for him-- ‘I ❤️ My Girlfriend’ shirts in public just because you wanted him to suffer a bit for forgetting the chores ? Consider it his new favorite outfit.

He’d do anything and everything –yes, even sacrificing his dignity in front of Pads and Moony– if it meant putting a smile on your face (and making you agree to be used as a headrest for the rest of your life. But let’s just say that was a teeny, tiny, wonderful bonus if the case ever came to be).

Tonight was his chance, he told himself.

You were already curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies, your legs tucked beneath you as you scrolled through your phone. The dim lighting of the room cast a soft glow over you, and James took a moment to appreciate the scene.

Because, honestly ? You looked really good.

Too good.

Like, unfairly good.

The hoodie –his hoodie, the one he had technically claimed as his favorite, but which spent more time on your body than his closet– was slightly oversized on you, slipping off one shoulder in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a second.

This was his moment.

You were comfortable. The couch was comfortable.

And your chest ? Well, that was a level of bliss he had yet to find anywhere else in the world.

Time to execute: Operation Smothered by Heaven.

Ok, the name was a little ridiculous. But, to his defence, he had been a little distracted while thinking about it –the dress you were wearing mysteriously met the floor not even five minutes after he had taken a glimpse of you– and his brain had refused to work at his full potential.

Something that he absolutely couldn’t let happen now.

Not when the fate of his comfort and sanity was at such a high risk.

That’s why he casually –so casually– stretched like a giant cat just waking up from a nap, letting out an exaggerated yawn before –still ever so nonchalantly, of course– leaning closer.

And would you look at that ? His head, as if drawn by an invisible magnetic force he absolutely had no control on –God forbid– found its way to your chest.

It was seamless.

Flawless execution.

Absolutely fucking nailed that.

He gave himself a mental high five.

Operation Smothered by Heaven: officially successful.

“Wow. Smooth” you blinked down at him, amused.

James grinned but didn’t move. Not even an inch. Nope.

He had claimed his rightful place, and there was no going back now.

“What can I say ? Gravity is a powerful thing” he purred, his voice smug, his eyes half-lidded like a cat who had just found the warmest sunspot in the house.

“Ah, I see. So this is all gravity’s fault, then ?”

“Absolutely” he confirmed, burrowing his face in just a little more “I have no control over it. Pure science”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you didn’t push him away.

Of course you didn’t.

If anything, you shifted slightly, letting your arm drape around his back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his spine. He hummed in approval, his whole body melting against yours like ice under the warm sunlight of a summer’s day.

Because the thing James didn’t know –or, at the very least, seemed to forget– was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Always.

James Potter and secret scheming ? Not a good match.

Not a match at all, actually. But you still liked watching him try.

And with the way he had been ogling you for the past week, it really wasn’t hard to figure out what had been brewing in that ridiculously pretty head of his.

His thoughtful frown, the way his brows scrunched together, his deep-in-thought lip-biting. James had looked like he was trying to crack some highly classified government code.

Except the code in question was you.

Or, more specifically, that area right below your neck that seemed to steal his attention more times then it should've been considered healthy.

Subtle, he was not.

He had been studying you. Analyzing the way your sweaters dipped lower when you leaned forward, the way the fabric of your shirts clung to your curves, the way–

God.

James had the audacity to look like he was pondering the meaning of life when, really, all he was trying to find was an excuse.

Funny how he could’ve just asked.

It wasn’t like you would have refused him.

Hell, you didn’t even think you possessed the ability to refuse him. To refuse him anything, really.

But your smitten and extremely down-bad behavior when it came to your boyfriend was a topic for another time.

James let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You know” he murmured, voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled closer “I think I’ve discovered something important”

“Oh ?”

“Mhm” he tilted his head up, his expression dead serious. Like a man delivering a life-changing revelation “Your chest ? Best pillow I’ve ever used”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet grin making its way onto your mouth. “I should be flattered, I think”

“You should be honored” he corrected, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk “I mean, it’s a very competitive market. But yours ? Easily top-tier”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that right ?”

James nodded solemnly.

“Hell yeah, baby. I’d even write a five-star Yelp review if that were a thing”

You let out a soft laugh and slid your fingers into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

James immediately melted.

He let out a low, contented hum, eyes slipping shut, the tension in his body dissolving completely. You thought if he was a cat, he would’ve started purring.

“Mmh. Keep doing that, and I might never get up” he mumbled, voice already laced with drowsiness.

“Wouldn’t mind that” you teased.

Because, really, who in their right mind would complain about this ?

No one, that's who.

And surely not you.

James hummed in response, his arms tightening around your waist burying himself further into you. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

His lips brushed absentmindedly against your collarbone –a barely-there press of warmth that sent a quiet shiver down your spine.

This. This was perfection.

Then, because James Potter simply could not help himself, he tilted his head up again.

“So, uh... just out of curiosity. How often do you think I can get away with this ?”

You smirked. “That depends”

“On ?”

“How well you behave”

James’ eyes darkened slightly, though amusement still played at the edges.

“Define behave” his voice dropped, all smooth and teasing, like he could coax an answer out of you if he said it just right.

You arched a brow, pretending to think.

“Well, let’s see. No stealing the blankets at night. No pretending you don’t hear me when I ask you to grab something from the kitchen. And definitely no distracting me when I’m trying to get work done”

James gasped, offended.

“That last one is unreasonable and you know it”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is it ?”

“Yes. It is literally part of my rights as your boyfriend to distract you”

You hummed, pretending to ponder your decision.

“Well, if we can do nothing about that…” your hand cupped his cheek, slender fingers applying a gentle pressure to lift his face up from that cocoon of warmth he had nestled himself into.

He blinked. “I-wait. What ?”

Before he could fully register what was happening, you leaned down and captured his lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

James melted.

Like, gone. Out of commission. Absolute goner.

The smug confidence he had a second ago ? Obliterated.

His hands, which had been lazily resting at your waist, tightened, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go. One of them trailed up your spine, fingers tangling into your hair, holding you there like this was oxygen and he needed it to breathe.

You sighed against his lips, feeling the way he shuddered, the way his grip on you tightened, like he was physically trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Like you had just ruined him.

And maybe you had.

Because when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, James just blinked at you, dazed and utterly wrecked, lips still parted like he hadn’t quite caught up with reality yet.

You bit back a smirk.

Unbelievable.

How had this man made a full-time career out of turning you into putty, and yet one well-placed kiss had him looking like he’d just been personally blessed by the universe ?

You dragged your fingers lazily through his curls, watching the way his lashes fluttered at the sensation, the slow, dopey grin tugging at his lips.

Completely gone.

You tilted your head, murmuring teasingly against his mouth “Was that up to your standards, Mr. Five-Star Review ?”

James, still grinning –and still absolutely useless– just nodded.

"Five stars ? That was worth the entire Milky Way, baby"

You let out a laugh, and he practically glowed at the sound, his fingers flexing against your waist like he wanted to bottle it.

Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours in that infuriatingly sweet way of his.

"You know-" he murmured, voice all warm and syrupy "-if this is part of my reward system, I promise to be so good"

You smirked, fingers tracing idle patterns into the back of his neck. “Do you now ?”

James nodded solemnly, though the grin he was fighting gave him away.

“The best. Model citizen. Proper gentleman. Will hold doors, carry bags, call you milady unironically if I have to”

You snorted. Loudly.

"Now that, I need to see"

He hummed, tilting his head up like he was about to deliver the most profound statement of his life.

“Mmh. Maybe after another kiss”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “That so ?”

He nodded again, already leaning in, his lips curling mischievously.

You let your fingers drag slowly down the back of his neck, feeling the way James shivered under your touch.

The moment stretched, thick with something warm and electric, the air between you charged in that intoxicating way it always was whenever you teased him like this.

You leaned in deliberately, lips hovering just over his, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath, the heat radiating off his skin.

James, for all his usual smugness, stilled, his lazy smirk faltering into something softer, deeper. His lips parting slightly, his pupils dark and expectant.

Waiting.

Wanting.

You let your gaze drop to his lips, watching as his tongue darted out just once, a quick, unconscious flick, like he was already tasting the kiss before it happened.

And, God, he was beautiful like this.

All that usual bravado stripped down to this, his sharp edges melted, his hands twitching slightly where they rested on your hips, fighting the urge to pull you closer.

His restraint was admirable.

His patience ?

Well. That was something you just had to test.

You leaned in that final inch –only for your lips to land on his cheek instead.

Soft. Chaste. Infuriating.

James let out a dramatic, suffering groan, his head thunking back against the cushions.

“Tease” he mumbled, voice hoarse, his hands finally losing their battle as they gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your sides like he was physically holding back the urge to grab your face and kiss you properly.

You pulled back just enough to grin down at him, impossibly pleased with yourself.

“What ?” you asked innocently, tilting your head “You asked for a kiss. You didn’t specify where, love”

He cracked one eye open, glowering.

“Oh, that’s dirty” he grumbled, before huffing dramatically and rolling onto his back, taking you with him.

You yelped as you landed against his chest, sprawled across him, your laughter cut off when his arms wrapped around you, pinning you against him with the strength of a human vice grip.

“James-”

“Nope” he said, shoving his face into your neck like a petulant child, muffling his words “You’re stuck here now. Actions have consequences”

You laughed, wiggling in his hold, but he just tightened his grip.

“James”

“Mmm. Nope”

“I-”

“Shh. Thinking about my suffering”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself, your fingers naturally finding their way into his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He made a sound, deep and content, his body practically melting beneath you.

“See ?” you teased, voice softening “That wasn’t so bad”

He exhaled heavily, but his hands had already started skimming over your back again, lazy and unbothered, like he’d completely forgotten why he was fake-pouting in the first place.

“Mmh” he hummed “Don't know. Still feel like you owe me”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Oh ?”

“Yeah” James sighed dramatically, finally tilting his head up again. Looking at you.

That expression.

Soft. Mischievous. A little challenging.

Maybe even a little hopeful.

Like he was just waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

You let the moment stretch for a beat longer, lips quirking.

Then, with a small, amused sigh, you finally gave in.

And kissed him properly.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed like that, tangled together, basking in the warmth of each other’s touch.

You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled back just enough to murmur “So… hear me out”

“Oh boy” you sighed, already knowing.

James just grinned, completely unbothered by your lack in faith in him.

“What if we made this a permanent arrangement ?”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head at him. “A permanent arrangement ?”

“Yeah. Like, an official thing. A contract, even” he lifted his head slightly, hie expression the picture of seriousness “Something binding. A legally recognized agreement that states you will be my official human pillow for the foreseeable future”

You stared at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement, lips twitiching.

“You want to draft a pillow contract ?”

James nodded, almost professionally.

“For accountability purposes”

You rolled your eyes, a disbelieved chuckle leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“You’re ridiculous”

“But lovable” he pointed out.

You exhaled, shaking your head, your heart betraying you with the sheer amount of fondness you felt for this man.

“Fine” you relented, rolling your eyes as if you weren’t already completely gone for him “You win. You can rest on me whenever you want”

James grinned like he’d just won the lottery, wasting no time in smacking a quick, eager kiss right on your lips.

“But” you added, poking him in the ribs “I reserve the right to move if you start drooling”

“Excuse me ?” he gasped, offended “I do not drool”

You smirked. “That’s not what the couch cushions say”

James gasped again, dramatically this time, like you had personally insulted his honor “That was one time-”

“Oh, it so wasn’t”

James pouted, pulling you even closer and pressing his forehead against yours with a grumble.

“You wound me” he muttered, a mock distraught lilt to his voice.

You grinned, the warmth of him, the smell of him, completely surrounding you as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, lingering just enough to feel the way his breath hitched.

“I think you’ll survive just fine”

He hummed, tilting his head slightly, inviting you to keep going.

So you did.

You let your lips trail along his jawline, slow and lazy, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly in a way that made him melt.

“Well” James sighed, voice lower, heavier, the tiniest shiver running through him “If this is how you comfort me, I guess I’ll forgive you”

You laughed against his skin.

“How generous”

James smirked, but there was something else in his eyes now, something wicked, something that sparked just before–

Before the menace shimmied down.

Yes. Shimmied. Like a man with a mission.

“James-”

Your protest was cut off by laughter, because he was determined, wriggling lower and lower with expert precision, slipping out of your hold like a human-sized golden retriever trying to find the perfect spot on the couch.

And then, with a triumphant sigh, his head landed where he had been aiming all along–

Right on your chest.

James let out a deep, satisfied hum, snuggling in, his nose nuzzling into the soft fabric of your shirt like this was some long-lost paradise he had just returned to.

“Now we’re talking” he exhaled in sheer satisfaction, like the heaviest of weights had been lifted from his shoulders, snuggling even deeper, and muttering an appreciative “Mmh. Yep. Definitely five stars”

You blinked down at him, helpless to fight the way your heart swelled, a smile threatening to bloom against your better judgment.

“Should I start charging you for this service ?” you teased.

James hummed, content, his lips brushing absently against the skin just below your collarbone.

“I’d go broke, baby”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers finding their way back into his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He groaned, pressing his face deeper into your chest, mumbling something incoherent that you were pretty sure translated to never stop doing that.

Before you could fully process how utterly whipped this man was, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss there –just because he could.

You pulled back slightly, blinking down at the mop of messy chocolate strands currently buried between your collarbones.

“Do you make a habit of kissing all your pillows ?” you asked, voice mildly amused despite the unreasonable warmth now flooding your chest.

James, completely unashamed, grinned against you.

“Pillows don’t usually deserve appreciation, but this one ?” his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns against your waist, his voice dropping to a reverent murmur “This one gets special treatment”

A full-body shiver rolled through you.

And James, that absolute menace, felt it.

His smirk was obnoxiously satisfied as he nuzzled in even deeper, practically purring as he molded himself further against you.

You rolled your eyes, trying –truly trying– to ignore the overwhelming affection clawing at your ribcage. And utterly failing.

“Jamie, you’re gonna choke like this” you warned playfully, fighting against yourself not to let out the endeared laugh threatening to spill.

He made a noncommittal noise, fully unbothered.

“Best way to go, honestly”

And that was it.

Not one beat missed. Not a single ounce of shame registered in his voice.

You stared wide-eyed at the mop of untamable chocolate curls right below your chin, completely bewildered by the words that had just come out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

Did this man, the actual love of your life, just casually declare that he would willingly –no, gladly– perish via boob-related asphyxiation ?

Because that was what it sounded like.

Was that a normal thing for a person to say ?

No. No, it wasn’t.

And yet—here you were.

"James"

“Mmm ?”

"James, get up"

"No"

You sighed, trying to nudge him off, but it was useless.

Because this man –this grown, six-foot, sport-trained, annoyingly fit man– was currently clinging to you like a koala experiencing its first-ever existential crisis.

And you knew –you knew– that there was no reasoning with a man who had just fully committed to making your chest his final resting place.

"James-"

"No"

"You cannot suffocate yourself on my–"

"I can and I will"

"You will not"

James lifted his head just enough to look at you with actual betrayal.

"How dare you harm a man in his final moments ?"

A stunned laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous”

James smirked triumphantly.

“And yet-” he murmured smugly “-you don’t seem to mind it”

He barely gave you a second to respond before he nuzzled right back in, burrowing into your chest like you were some long-lost paradise he had finally returned to.

You stared at the ceiling, dead inside.

How was this your life ?

You used to have dignity.

You used to be a strong, independent person.

And yet, somehow –somehow– you had become a glorified human mattress for your very large and very needy boyfriend.

And the worst part ?

You didn’t even mind.

You sighed deeply, fingers slipping into his hair against your better judgment. James melted immediately, exhaling in a way that was obscenely pleased. Like if he were any more relaxed, he'd have dissolved into a puddle of mushy, lovesick goo.

Then, with the solemnity of a man about to deliver a groundbreaking presidential address, he cleared his throat.

You barely had time to register the shift before he–

“Ladies” James began, his voice smooth, reverent “It’s always a pleasure”

Your mouth fell open.

Did he just–

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I just wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude” he continued talking to your breasts, completely ignoring the look of utter disbelief and sheer horror plastered on your face and sighing dramatically “For your service. For your warmth. For providing me with the best naps of my life”

Your soul, quite frankly, left your body, just straight-up abandoned you.

“James–”

He shushed you.

Shushed you.

“I’m having a moment with my girls, baby” he whispered, like he was delivering a speech at fucking Buckingham Palace.

You gaped at him. “You are not-”

“I am” he placed a hand over his heart “They deserve it”

You had never contemplated murder so seriously in your life.

James, completely unbothered, pressed on.

“I promise to treat you with the respect and admiration you deserve. To appreciate your softness in all its glory. To-” he paused, tilting his head “Actually, I feel like I should name you”

“For the love of God, James. Don’t you dare-”

He gasped.

Gasped.

“That’s a brilliant idea. Baby, why haven’t we named them ?”

You smacked his arm, your eyes so wide they threatened to fall out of your skull. “Because they are literally attached to my body ?!”

But he wasn’t listening. No, the absolute menace was thinking, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“They deserve names that reflect their greatness. Something regal. Something powerful”

He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Thelma and Louise”

You groaned. “Absolutely fucking not”

James ignored you.

“Or maybe Hall and Oates ?”

“I- What- Aren’t they both men ?”

“Gender’s nothing but a social construct, darling”

“Ok-”

A sudden gasp interrupted you, as if he had just discovered the meaning of life itself.

"Baby- Baby, I’ve got it"

You sighed, already regretting everything. "James, no"

"Yes" he insisted, eyes alight with the thrill of an idiot about to say something profoundly stupid "Bonnie and Clyde"

You blinked. Once. Twice.

"You want to name ‘your girls’ after two actual criminals ?"

He nodded solemnly, as if he were making the most reasonable suggestion in the world. "Iconic criminals. Star-crossed lovers. Thrill-seekers. Just like us, babe"

"Just like us ?" you repeated, incredulous "James, they literally died in a hail of bullets"

"Tragic, right ?" he sighed dramatically, resting his cheek against your chest. "Just two outlaws against the world. Inseparable. Madly in love. Probably great at robbing banks"

You stared at him, completely dead inside. "Are you about to compare my chest to a highly coordinated armed robbery ?"

James lifted his head just enough to grin at you.

"Well” he mused, eyes twinkling “they did steal my heart"

You were done. So done, in fact, that you just gave up entirely.

"I cannot believe this is my life" you muttered, shoving your hands over your face.

James, the absolute menace, took this as encouragement and nuzzled back in, pressing obnoxiously reverent kisses between his newly christened 'Bonnie and Clyde'.

"Rest easy, my loves" he murmured dramatically "Your legacy shall live on"

"James-"

"Shhh" he hushed, patting your side "They're outlaws, baby. They don’t play by the rules"

At that point, you seriously considered pushing him off the couch. Or out the window.

Maybe both.

You shook your head, defeated, completely annihilated by your boyfriend’s questionable choices.

James grinned, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh, come on. I’m just having a bit of fun” he chuckled lightheartedly, turning his attention back to your chest with the solemnity of a man who had just finished writing a best-selling novel “Well, ladies, whatever your names may be, just know –you have my eternal devotion”

And then, as if he hadn’t just committed the most embarrassing crime against you, he nestled back in with a satisfied hum.

You stared down at him, deadpan.

“You’re an actual menace”

“And yet, despite that, you love me” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You sighed, your fingers automatically sliding into his hair once again. It took him less than two seconds to turn into a puddle, his entire body going limp as he exhaled in the most ridiculously pleased way possible, like he had just been given an award for the best nap ever.

“Unfortunately” you muttered, your heart melting just a little bit too, because, yes, he was a ridiculous man, but he was your ridiculous man.

And, as much as you complained, you couldn’t deny it --having James like this, warm and completely wrapped around you, was its own kind of perfect.

The Pillow Contract (Unofficially Signed & Approved)

Clause 1: James gets unlimited chest pillow privileges.

Clause 2: Y/n reserves the right to kick James off if he drools in his sleep.

Clause 3: Cuddles are mandatory.

Clause 4: James won't ever refer to Y/n's chest as ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ again. Penalty: annulment of Clause 1.

Hello beautiful people 💗

I have no idea of where this thing spouted from. It popped in my head, and I had to bring it to the world 😂.

This is my first attempt at a more humorous type of fic. I had so much fun writing it, and I really hope it didn't downright suck, and you had a good time reading it, too.

Let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

995 notes · View notes

norrisainz33 · 5 months ago

Text

foodie || platonic grid

☆ summary: f1 it girl runs popular influencer account but no one knows until a certain netflix series reveals her secret

☆ pairing: driver!reader x platonic grid

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Essentia Ristorante

liked by ynuser, lando, yukitsunoda0511, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, and 1,345,294 others

formulafoodie: ciao dall'italia! having the best time here in italy as always. lucky me got to enjoy some of the best pasta in the whole world (don’t tell my trainer) at Essentia! feeling spoiled! [hello from italy!]

view all comments

user1: on god that looks delicious

user2: can’t tell ur trainer if we have no clue which one of you this is

user4: my bets are still on yuki! he’s the grid foodie through and through

user6: idk i don’t really get yuki vibes from these posts. i feel like it’s gotta be y/n, alex or carlos

user2: oh i could see it being y/n/n. she has posted some stories that do look very similar to the places formulafoodie has been

lando: @ whoever runs this account - where was my invite?! [liked by ynuser & charlesleclerc]

user6: well user2, looks like we can rule out lando

user3: wake up babe! fav influencer just posted

f1: yum! 😋

user4: bookmarked this restaurant as if i’ll ever go to italy

ynuser has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, carlossainz55, lando, astonmartinf1, lance_stroll and 897,375 others

ynuser: monza! grazie for the point! wasn’t an easy one but at least italy always spoils me. oh and congrats charlesleclerc 🤍

view all comments

user3: felt your aura from 5 scrolls away

lance_stroll: points points points

ynuser: points 🗣️

user12: we love y/n points in this house

charlesleclerc: merci y/n/n ❤️

ynuser: well deserved my friend 🥰

astonmartinf1: monza! thanks for being good to our girl

user6: hmmm a certain influencer also said they felt spoiled in italy… coincidence? 🤨

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n amore mio [y/n my love]

ynuser: alex 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

user33: forever gagged by how beautiful and talented you are

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Willow Restaurant

liked by f1, alex_albon, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, oscarpiastri, ynuser and 1,973,356 others

formulafoodie: singapore!! the food here absolutely never disappoints. thanks for having me willow

view all comments

user2: quick f1gossip did you catch any of the drivers at willow???

f1gossip: we got no reports of any drivers spotted at willow! y/n, lance, and esteban were spotted out for drinks not too far from this restaurant though!

f1: looks delicious!

user4: def not lando with all that shrimp

lando: you got that right

user4: LANDOBSJV

netflix: delectable

user3: netflix what are you doing here

formulafoodie: it certainly was 😉

user6: wait wait wait this has to mean something. formulafoodie never responds to comments

oscarpiastri: great! now i know where to grab dinner

user8: omg the last slide 🤤

user22: another fire post mr tsunoda

formulafoodie has made a post 📍 la barbecue

liked by danielriccardo, ynuser, estebanocon, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri, netflix, astonmartinf1

formulafoodie: everything is in fact bigger (and better) in texas. labarbecuetexas you made the best bbq i’ve ever been blessed to eat!! thank you for having me 😩🤍

view all comments

user4: my mouth is watering

lando: again here asking where my invite was???

user14: omg omg i’m going here for dinner tonight

danielriccardo: knew you’d love it 💙 [liked by formulafoodie]

user6: WAIT DANNY KNOWS WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT?!

netflix: 🤤 us looking at these photos [liked by formulafoodie]

f1gossip: for those wondering - closest driver sightings to this restaurant was y/n, pierre and yuki out at a cowboy hat shop which reportedly has the same sign as the second slide 👀

user6: omgomgomgomg

user21: it’s yuki confirmed

user31: no wayyyyyy

user12: gonna have to get myself to an authentic bbq place asap

user19: whenever i need a recommendation for where to eat i come to this page

ynuser has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, lance_stroll, estebanocon, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and 1,023,459 others

ynuser: in another life, i rode horses instead of driving cars. thanks for the love, the points and the barbecue austin! 🤍🏎️

view all comments

danielriccardo: 💙

ynuser: 🤍

user13: i almost started barking

lhughes_06: any chance you want to come to a hockey game while you’re in the us?

jackhughes: have i not taught you nothing?! [liked by ynuser]

_quinnhughes: this was the best line you’ve got luke? [liked by ynuser]

ynuser: i could be persuaded 🤭 though when am i going to see one of you three at a race?

user43: i have no one to talk about this with

user55: HI [louder than everyone else]

iamrebeccad: gorgeous 🥰

ynuser: love you honey 😘

user98: she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s the fastest girl in the race

user83: consistently proud of you for dragging that tractor into the points

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Broadway

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1, maxfewtrell, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, carlossainz55, and 1,234,425 others

formulafoodie: abu dhabi!!! thank you for the wonderful food and to broadwayuae for having me.

as the season comes to a close, i wanted to say thank you for spending yet another season with me! stay tuned for my regular programming of my favorite recipes starting next week 🥰

view all comments

user4: already looking forward to your off season content!!! love love love your recipes that you feed us with during the winter 🫶🏻

user7: no thank YOU for taking us along with you this season

f1: see you soon formulafoodie

netflix: what race had the best food this season?

formulafoodie: hmm… good question!! everyone make sure to tune into the newest driver to survive episodes to find out 😉

user6: OMG THEYRE SOING A REVEAL ON DTS

user12: i will only be accepting gold plated coffee only from now on

user8: thank you for a great season 🫶🏻

user19: we love you formulafoodie!

netflix has made a post

liked by ynuser, astonmartinf1, lando, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, yourbff, georgerussell63, and 987,245 others

netflix: drive to survive’s first episode is out now! we sat down with y/n y/l/n, the grids resident it girl and foodie, as she navigates the pressures of being the only female formula 1 driver and her quest to bring aston martin to its glory.

[tagged: ynuser, formulafoodie, astonmartinf1]

view all comments

user6: NO WAY FORMULAFOODIE IS Y/N?!

astonmartinf1: how lucky we are to have y/n 🤍

user20: “in my rookie season i really found that i needed an outlet and i wanted to express myself outside of the confines of driving. so i turned to my next passion which is cooking and in doing so i started this amazing community and i wouldn’t trade it for the world.” DONT LOOK AT ME IM DEF CRYING

user18: my shayla 😭😩

user19: we gotta protect y/n and formulafoodie at all costs

user14: only watching the episode to hear my queen speak 🗣️

lando: so this is how i find out ynuser??? do you hate me??

ynuser: stop it you muppet. i love you and you know it

lando: but you never took me to dinner?

ynuser: bc you’re shit at keeping secrets my dear

maxfewtrell: she’s right mate you can’t keep your mouth shut

lando: SLANDER

lance_stroll: so this is why you always bring the best local desserts to our hospitality ynuser

ynuser: you got me 🤭

user13: netflix new how to hook me right in for this season with giving me y/n first

formulafoodie has made a post 📍home

liked by lance_stroll, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, lando, alex_albon and 1,298,475 others

formulafoodie: back home and finally able to cook!! feeding my favorite muppet lando today (he wouldn’t stop asking)!! i am so beyond grateful for this community and for all of you. here’s to a new chapter together 🤍

oh and be sure to check out my bolognese recipe on my website!!

view all comments

user4: the first face reveal post 😭

user12: RUNNING TO GO MAKE THIS RECIPE

lando: F I N A L L Y!!!!! thank you for the pasta my friend

lance_stroll: and you’re going to cook for me when?

estebanocon: can i make reservations at maison de y/n?

charlesleclerc: no no have alex and i over first!

ynuser: i’ll hold a grid dinner soon don’t worry 🫶🏻

user12: cutie patootie

user4: looking forward to all your new content y/n/n

astonmartinf1: enjoy 🍝

user18: this looks so good 😋

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes, feedback and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

#f1 fandom #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #driver!reader #driver!y/n #lando norris smau #lance stroll smau

2K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 5 months ago

Note

Feeling in a mood today. Would you consider some angst with Bucky? You can ignore!

I feel like angst isn't my forte, nonnie, but I'll try?

Stood Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you out on a date and doesn't show.

Word Count: Almost 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, sadness, insecurities, embarrassment

A/N: This may get a Part 2. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You chose a simple black dress for your first date with Bucky. It wasn't too dressy or over the top, but still nice enough that you hoped it caught his attention. If the sight of you could put a soft smile on his face and warmth in his stunning blue eyes you'd consider it a win. Maybe he'd even tell you how beautiful you looked.

But your date was supposed to start almost an hour ago, and he still hadn't arrived.

You perked up when you looked toward the door, only to feel disappointed yet again when it wasn't Bucky who walked in. Checking your phone, you scrolled back through the messages. You had texted him earlier in the week to be on the safe side and he confirmed all of the needed date information; date, time, restaurant. You arrived at the right place at the right time on the right date. It was all you looked forward to this week.

You thought Bucky was looking forward to it as well since his last message was, “Can't wait to see you, doll.”

The sergeant looked almost nervous when he asked you to grab dinner with him. You were pretty sure he ran a hand through his hair three times before he got the question out. But the way his eyes lit up when you said yes, it was a look you’d never forget.

“It’s a date,” he had smiled, your heart fluttering. “Maybe we can go dancing after? Or we can dance in one of our apartments? Or we can play it by ear.”

“I’ll wear my best dancing shoes.”

You were trying to stay optimistic that he would show, but the knots in your stomach tightened when you realized he still hadn't replied to your follow up messages since you got to the restaurant. Did he have to take a last minute mission and couldn't let you know? Was he just running late? Or did he simply change his mind about the date?

“Where are you, Bucky?” you whispered, praying he wasn't hurt or worse.

The server cautiously approached your table once you set your phone down. “Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you forcefully smiled, gesturing to the untouched glass of wine in front of you. “I’m still… waiting,” you added, your voice cracking on the last word.

A look of pity crossed the server’s face. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt other eyes on you, too. You didn't want their sympathy or anything else for that matter. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

You managed a nod and nothing more, your eyes burning as you blankly stared at the menu. It didn't make sense. Bucky wasn't the kind of man to stand someone up. He wouldn't leave you in the middle of a restaurant by yourself without a good reason. Right?

Your hands shook when it went past the hour mark and you typed one more message to Bucky. “I’m still at the restaurant and worried since you aren't here. I hope you're okay.”

It took another fifteen minutes for it to finally sink in that Bucky wasn't coming. As much as you didn't want it to, it hurt. So much. Luck wasn't on your side when it came to relationships, but you thought this would be different because, well, Bucky was different. You should've known better though. You should've known him asking you on a date was too good to be true.

The server made eye contact with you across the room and quickly made her way over when you took out your wallet. “Oh, that glass is on the house. Unless there's anything else I can get for you?”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” The gesture brought tears to your eyes, and you wished you could bury yourself in the ground then and there. “I don't need anything else, but I still owe you a tip for taking up the table for over an hour,” you said, leaving some cash on the table and giving her one last smile as you stood up on shaky legs. “Have a good night.”

“Ouch. Stood up. Been there before.”

“Oh, shit. I think she’s crying.”

“Poor thing. She was sitting down before we got here.”

The whispers from the patrons were practically screams in your ears as you left, and you had to steady yourself once you got outside. The cool air did nothing to soothe you, and wiping your cheeks didn't stop the tears from falling. Humiliation aside, your heart ached. Putting yourself out there wasn't easy, but this sort of rejection hurt more than a firm “no”.

Worry seeped in because you didn't want to believe Bucky would do this on purpose. What went wrong? Why didn't he show up? There had to be a reasonable explanation.

You dialed his number, your heart stopping when his voicemail popped up after a few seconds. “Hey, this is Bucky. Leave me a message.”

You cleared your throat to speak. “Hey. It’s me. I waited for you… at the restaurant, but I guess… I guess you just couldn't make it, so I'm heading home.” You paused to sniffle and prayed he wouldn't catch it if he listened. “Can you just… let me know you're okay? Please, Bucky?” you asked, hanging up before you could say more.

The little optimism you had left faded completely when you checked your messages one last time. The messages had gone from delivered to read. He got them and didn't respond. Not one single word. He just… ignored you.

Maybe everything was fine with him after all and he realized you weren't good enough to go on a date with.

Choking on a small sob, you tucked your phone away. You didn't bother with a cab. The walk could help clear your head. You didn't care if the distance would ruin your shoes. It wasn't like you had anyone to dance with tonight or any other night.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered to yourself, curling in on yourself as you walked. It hurt, but you’d be fine. You'd suck it up, put a smile on your face, and convince everyone that all was well because that was the way it had to be.

But how would you face Bucky come Monday? You still cared about him, but how would you be able to look him in the eye and hide the hurt you felt from being left all alone in that restaurant? How would you move forward together if he didn't want you?

No, not together. There was no togetherness at the moment since Bucky stood you up. He clearly didn't want you. Maybe he never did and he only asked you out as a fluke or some obligation so people would stop trying to set him up.

You wiped at your cheeks again. The unknown was going to keep your mind racing until he told you why he didn't show. He owed you some sort of explanation.

But tonight, you'd walk home alone with a heavy heart and hoped that whatever Bucky was doing that he was okay.

I need a happy ending for them immediately. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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edwardslvrr · 4 days ago

Note

kook princess’ birthday smau!!!! does rafe make a post orrr does he ward off people commenting on your post or both?? maybeee he lets u make a tiktok with some cute trend and post it to both ur acc’s?

PRINCESS'S BIRTHDAY ☆ rafe cameron

✦　　　.　　princess's birthday and rafe cameron is not ashamed of spoiling his girl and showing her off to the world.

AUTHOR TALKING -> yess, rafe for SURE posts her on her birthday (well his account is basically a fanaccount for her) and he’s ALWAYSSS in her comments telling people off, mr possessive or wtv tate mcrae said😌

WARNING -> mention of making out and slight description (not too detailed)

𓂃⋆.˚ rafecameron’s new post

liked by yourname, topperthornton and 2918 others

rafecameron happy birthday to my girl, thank you for wanting to spend your years with me. you look beautiful always, like the most perfect woman ever and I’m so lucky to be able to call you mine which I hope lasts in every lifetime.

happy 23rd babe ❤️

view all comments

yourname rafey you’re making me cry, thank you for another year of spending my birthday with you I hope I can do this again with you every year and every lifetime. I love you💕

⤿ rafecameron my gorgeous girl

yourname the flowers are too beautiful, thank you

randomguy wowza

⤿ rafecameron leave before i pull your eyes out

yourname never getting over this and you

sarahcameron rafe never ever fumble her istg

⤿ rafecameron it would be the biggest mistake in my life

⤿ yourname 🥹

jjmaybank damn yn😍

⤿ rafecameron get the fuck out before i cut your balls off

randomguy69 i’d smash

⤿ rafecameron i’d smash your head into a walk if you dont leave

𓂃⋆.˚ yourname’s new post

liked by rafecameron, yourmom and 2183 others

yourname turning 23 with you has been the most beautiful experience, thank you rafe for making me feel this loved.

view all comments

yourmom such a beautiful dinner, well done rafe��💕

⤿ yourmom thank you for making my girl so happy

⤿ rafecameron always ma’am. she makes me the happiest

⤿ yourname thank you for being there momma 💛

rafecameron such a beautiful woman, can’t believe youre mine

rafecameron will love you in every lifetime

⤿ yourname 🥹🥹

kiaracarrera everything looks so perfect!!

sarahcameron rafe put a ring on it

yourexbf beautiful

⤿ rafecameron hope the door hits you on the way out

yourbestfriend gorgeous girl, had the best time!! make 23 the best one yet💕

⤿ yourname happy you were there, & i will (with you!!)

“Rafey!” she shouts through their apartment, as she’s sat on the couch scrolling through TikTok. A cute tiktok idea popped up on her for you page that she desperately wanted to do with Rafe and since it’s her birthday how could he say no.

The door of the living room opens and Rafe appears, wearing a tight Gymshark shirt, which made Yn stare for a second before Rafe clears his throat looking at her with a smirk. “What’s up baby? Or did you call me here to stare at me? Not that I mind.” He winks at her, as she blushes.

“No, shut up.” Yn shyly says, but quickly brings her attention back to her original plan. “I found this cute TikTok idea, can we please do it?!” she kindly asks her boyfriend, giving him a slight pout to try and convince him.

“Babe.” He sighs. “do we have to?”

“You get to make out with me.” Yn smirks, as she notices his expression change immediately.

“Should’ve led with that.” He straightens up, getting ready for whatever she was about to do.

“Okay, so, lemme put my phone here real quick.” Yn excitedly gets up from the couch, placing her phone against a stack of books that were placed on the table. “So, you have to start off-camera, and then once it starts you walk into frame and bump into me.”

“Then I, like, push you away and then you grab me and make out with me.” The girl explains quickly, while looking at Rafe lovingly.

Rafe nods. “Sounds perfect, baby. Turn it on.” He smiles, pressing a kiss on her temple while she gets the TikTok set up.

Once the 3-second timer starts, Rafe gets out of the frame and waits until his cue. The music starts and Rafe walks into frame bumping into Yn, she stares at him confused and pushes him.

He takes a step forward and puts one hand on her cheek and the other on her ass, and he presses his lips on hers— Softly squeezing her ass as he makes out with her, making her let out a soft moan.

After hearing the moan, he pulls away and smirks. “Think the TikTok is done, baby.” He chuckles at her blushing face, completely in a state of shock from what just happened.

“Yeah, TikTok’s done.” She breathes out, turning around to her phone as she feels Rafe smack her ass once more making her bite her lip.

“Post it, princess. On both accounts, let everyone see you’re my girl.” Rafe whispers in her ear.

𓂃⋆.˚ tiktok comments

146 comments

username the hand position 😏

username i love it when hot people date hot people

rafecameron love my gorgeous girl

⤿ yourname my man💕

username this was hot icl

username wrong website guys

username outer banks’s it couple

username booktok wya

username gonna go take a walk now

TAGLIST -> @inthelibrarybtw @bradshawed @laniirackssss

TAGLIST -> comment on this post to be added to my rafe cameron taglist

MAIN MASTERLIST -> click here to see more

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months ago

Text

LUCKY YOU

Joel Miller x f!reader x Clint Flood || 3,2k

Summary: A usual evening with your boyfriend Clint and his best friend Joel turns into a night full of lust and ecstasy - Or - Clint and Joel go down on you.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, modern au/no outbreak au, F!ORAL, voyeurism, fingering, rimming, unprotected piv, anal, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, praise kink, pussy/cock pronouns, swearing, alcohol consumption (not by reader). Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Clint can lift reader.

A/n: Grab your toys y’all, it’s a steamy one lol Huge thank you to @ghoulettesinspace for this inspiring ask. Love you, friend! This story is my submission for the Magic Number writing challenge hosted by @schnarfer @whocaresstillthelouvre and @mothandpidgeon 💞 Thank you for creating this hot event! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and being my everything💋 Hope you all will enjoy being a meal❤️

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🌸

MASTERLIST || more Clint || more Joel

You've been dating Clint for a few months and his buddy, Joel, often came to hang out at his place. The men were about the same age, both older, both handsome as hell, but Joel never seemed to be interested in you.

At first you were fine with it, you were his friend’s woman after all, but his indifference soon started rubbing you the wrong way. Why would he look through you sometimes, as if you were not there? Didn’t he think you were hot? Or at least deserving of something other than a fleeting glance?

Driven by spite, you started doing everything to get the man’s attention. Wearing tiny shorts and tight tops around him worked wonders - he blushed like a teenager and stammered a shaky ‘Howdy’ whenever you opened the door to him.

Clint saw through your games, but didn’t mind them at all. Even better, he seemed to rail you harder after Joel’s visits.

It’s a usual night at Clint’s place. You two are chilling on the couch, his heavy arm around your shoulder, Joel‘s sitting in a lazy boy nearby. The men are sipping beers and watching some old action movie.

Not interested in the plot, you’re scrolling through Tumblr, and of course, at one point, a porn gif graces your dash. Clint notices it and hums, watching a guy eat a girl out on your screen. You feel his lips at your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

”Gonna do it to you tonight.”

You smile and bite your lip, shooting him a glance that screams ‘Yes, please!” His voice and his promise are enough to get you hot and bothered.

You put your phone away, cuddle up closer to your boyfriend and rest your bent leg on his thigh. Clint growls and bucks his hips, a huge bulge in his pants impossible to miss, and you gush, ogling it with hunger. It reminds you of the previous night — Clint’s hard cock fucking your mouth, then stretching your pussy so well, his sweat dripping on your bouncing tits. You squirm next to him and Clint hums, sensing your arousal.

He’s barely watching the movie now - his palms are sliding up and down your naked arms and thighs, his breathing is deep and heavy.

He gets ballsy and, not minding Joel sitting nearby, sneaks his hand under your shorts. His thick finger dips into the pool between your folds and he gruffs,

“Fuck, baby.” He immediately brings his hand to his mouth and licks your juices off, making you bite your lip at the sight of his tongue sliding over the glistening digit.

Joel hears Clint’s groans and turns his head in your direction. He doesn’t realise that his buddy is being a horny menace and continues watching the movie.

Clint keeps playing with you - presses kisses to your face and neck, kneads your tit under the top and squeezes your asscheek. By the time he cups your pussy over your shorts, soaking them with your slick, you’ve turned into a complete mess, desperate for any stimulation.

“Need you,” you whisper against his cheek and he rasps quietly, “I got you, baby.”

Not making you wait, he shoves his hand into your shorts, quickly finds his way to your wet hole and pushes two fingers inside.

You swallow a moan, your eyes set on Joel, sitting close, oblivious to the fact that his friend is knuckles deep in your cunt. Clint starts moving his digits in and out, curling them and skillfully bringing you higher to your peak with every stroke.

“Fuck,” you murmur, feeling yourself getting close, and push your face into Clint’s neck, in hopes of hiding the whimpers, crawling up your throat.

“Let it go, babygirl,” Clint whispers and you do. You come, pulsating on his fingers, your eyes squeezed shut. The orgasm is rippling through your body in waves as you’re clinging to Clint’s huge body. When your climax starts to dissipate, you kiss his cheek and give him a satisfied smile.

Your breathing is slowly coming back to normal but then it hitches, when all of a sudden Clint asks,

“Hey, Joel, do you like eating pussy?”

You stare at your boyfriend with your eyes widened, and then at his friend.

Joel furrows his brows and looks at Clint with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

“Scuse me?”

“You heard me, do you like giving head?”

“Fuck off, Clint,” Joel chuckles and returns his attention to the tv, but you don’t miss a slight blush of his cheeks.

Drunk on endorphins, you surprise even yourself when you push, “Do you?”

Joel locks eyes with you, but you’re not backing down. You raise your brows and stare at him with defiance.

“Yeah, we wanna know.” Clint sneers and shoots you a proud glance. Joel glares at the two of you now, but he probably knows well that Clint won’t let it go, so he replies with a shrug,

“Not really.”

Now it's Clint’s turn to be surprised.

“What? Why?”

“Dunno, not my thing.”

Joel takes a sip of his beer and clears his throat.

He’s always been reserved so you know he would never talk about his sexual life like that. The beer must be coursing through his veins, loosening his tongue.

“Is it ‘real men don’t do it’ bullshit?” You don’t hide disgust in your voice and Clint retorts,

“The manliest thing ever. What the fuck, Joel?”

“You know, what I think,” you turn to Clint with your brows pulled together, “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right person.”

“Or the right pussy,” Clint smirks and you giggle.

Joel’s beet red at this point, his eyes glued to the bottle in his hands, and you start feeling a little bad for the guy. Clint doesn’t seem to care. He’s giddy with excitement when he pulls you close and whispers in your ear,

“How about we introduce him to the right pussy?”

You blink a few times and then your lips curve into a mischievous smile.

“He just needs a good role model,” Clint says, sitting up next to you and pulling your shorts down and off your legs. His eyes are set on Joel, whose brows are getting lost in his hairline when he sees what his buddy is doing.

“This is insane,” Joel groans but doesn’t leave, doesn’t move at all. His body is frozen, his gaze is sliding over your naked ass and thighs.

“You ok with it?” he asks, locking eyes with you and you nod eagerly, biting your lower lip, turned on by the depravity of what’s about to happen. It’s impossible to deny - you’ve craving Joel’s mouth on you. Or his cock stuffing your hole.

You’re dripping and trembling with lust, ready to see what your boyfriend is going to do to you in front of the other man.

“She wants you,” Clint assures his friend, getting up and motioning for you to lie down on the couch.

“Looking like a slut when you’re around. She needs that extra cock. Right, baby?”

Your chest heaves as you whisper a soft ‘yeah’ and Joel rubs his scruffy cheek, hiding a lopsided smile.

Clint sits down at your bent legs and spreads your thighs with his big hands.

“Look at her, Joel. She’s too hot not to share.”

You smile at his praise and pull your top off revealing your naked breasts, presenting yourself to the men fully.

Joel adjusts his bulge with a curse and Clint whispers ‘good girl’ before leaning closer to palm your tit, making you whimper.

“But..,” he raises his brow and turns to Joel, ”this pussy’s for eating. Not only fucking.”

Clint pushes your thighs further apart and presses his hand to your folds. He massages them with his wide palm, spreading your slick over your heated skin, and you moan loudly, relishing the pressure on your cunt.

“Fuckin hell,” Joel murmurs and turns more to the couch.

“Hotter than hell,” Clint smirks and brings his lips to your inner thigh. He slowly drags them to your centre and lightly pecks your folds, tickling you with his facial hair. You bite your lip and start kneading your breast.

“Always start slow, Joel. Little kisses here and there.”

“Jeez, I know how to give head, Clint,” Joel groans, getting up and stepping up to the couch. “I’ve seen pussy before. I jus’.. don’t do it often...”

Clint rolls his eyes and then parts your pussy lips with his fingers.

"Been missing out, man. Bet you'd love to stick your dick in this soft hole, uh?"

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes taking in everything you are giving him. Clint murmurs ‘pretty’ to your pussy, then leans down and pecks your clit, his touch feather-light. You moan and buck your hips, chasing his hot mouth, but he ignores your need and keeps persuading Joel,

"Imagine how wet she's gonna be when you make her come on your tongue a couple times. Sticking your cock in a freshly eaten pussy... shit... a life changing experience, man. I swear you won't regret it."

While Clint’s pitching pussy eating to Joel, his thick fingers are gliding up and down over your spread folds, slightly grazing your twitching bud, pouring gasoline into a bright fire in your core.

"You really want me to eat out your girlfriend, Clint? fuck her?"

"Why not," Clint shrugs and, keeping your lips parted, gives the center of your pussy an open mouth kiss. ”She deserves it.”

“Joel, please,” you whimper, need thick in your voice, and your back arches, when Clint’s tongue draws a long wet stripe between your folds.

You flutter your eyes closed, barely hearing Clint’s comments, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hnggg… juicy little cunt. Joel, check it out.”

Joel’s looking over you, perfectly positioned to watch Clint play with you.

Clint bends down and sucks your puffy clit between his lips, then releases it with a pop and stares intently at your hole. You feel it now. They both groan when a clear drop of your slick trickles down from your clenching hole down to your asshole.

Clint looks up at Joel and smirks,

“Want a taste?”

Joel clenches his jaws as you’re watching him with hazy eyes, tiny whimpers falling from your lips again and again.

“I want you,” you admit with the sweetest tone you can manage and the man’s eyes dart from your crying cunt to your glossy eyes.

He pulls his brows and then nods.

“Let’s get her to the bedroom,” Clint offers with a smile and takes you in his arms.

You bite your lower lip, failing to suppress a grin curving your lips, and squirm naked on the bed with anticipation.

“That’s what I’m talking about. The more the merrier, right, baby?”

You nod, sparkles flying out of your eyes, as you take in two hot men on the bed with you.

“Spread ‘em wider,” Joel commands, and you obediently throw your thighs apart as wide as possible, they’re lying on the bed at this point.

“That’s my girl,” Clint praises you and caresses your inner thigh with his hard knuckles.

Your skin erupts with chills when Joel slides his palm from your knee to your hip, gently, reading your reaction, making sure that you’re still on board. You very much are.

It’s the first time he’s touching you, and you shiver, looking up at him with your heart eyes, blown out and full of need.

“Bon appetite, buddy,” Clint pats Joel's shoulder, inviting him to taste his girlfriend’s cunt.

Joel takes a sharp breath and slowly leans down, torturing you with anticipation, but when he covers your whole pussy with his mouth, you gasp and moan his name, already on the brink of euphoria. He flicks his tongue over your clit and then starts making out with your cunt, languidly and sensually.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as a powerful wave of pleasure engulfs you fully.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Clint watches, gliding his hand from your mound, over your heaving belly and to your chest. While Joel’s holding your thighs open, eating you out like it’s his last meal, Clint begins kneading your breasts, pulling at your nipples, twitching them to add fire to your ecstasy.

Joel dives out of your cunt and Clint asks him with a smirk,

“So?“

Joel’s breathing is heavy, licking his lips, his eyes two black pits of lust.

“Fuckin incredible.”

“Ah! Told ya!” Clint rubs his friend’s back with a proud smile and looks into your hazy eyes. “I’d eat her for breakfast, lunch and dinner, man. My baby’s delicious.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Joel mumbles and bends down again to lap at your crying hole.

“Yeah, like that,” Clint praises Joel’s skills when you moan loudly and dip your head back into the pillow.

“He’s doing good, babygirl?”

“Yeahhh, so good,” you mewl, losing your mind at how perfectly Joel’s full lips caress your folds and clit, while his hot tongue is collecting all the slick covering your beating pussy.

Joel’s lewd slurping together with your loud moans fills the room, and the electricity between the three of you hangs heavy in the air.

Clint is watching the show with his eyes dark and intent, palming his bulge, and then finally pulls his cock out.

When you see it spring out of his pants, engorged and leaking, your hand darts to it and you wrap your palm around his hot shaft.

“Nah, beautiful. Don’t worry ‘bout me, enjoy yourself.” He takes your hand off his cock and gently kisses your fingers. “He’s gonna wait for your pussy.”

He holds your hand, and leans down to give you a kiss, heady and passionate, grounding you in your overwhelming pleasure, but at the same time pushing you deeper into the pit of lust.

“Joel,” Clint calls after parting from your lips. “Wanna join you.”

Joel hums with your clit between his lips and it pushes you over the edge. You come crying, your eyes and pussy wet with euphoria, every cell of your body lighting up. The men hold you while you shake, your tits jiggling, your pussy leaking all over the sheets.

“Fuck.. what a sight,” Clint growls, running his huge palm over your trembling thighs while his other hand is gripping his cock.

“She’s beautiful.” Joel’s praise makes you smile through the hard orgasm, and when your body relaxes, you sigh happily and close your eyes.

Clint doesn’t give you any respite, though. A light slap lands on your hip and he growls,

“Need to eat this ass.”

Joel wipes your slick of his bearded chin and asks Clint,

“Can I fuck her pussy after?“

“Sure, man. You’re my best bud, what’s mine is yours.”

You giggle at Clint’s words, feeling yourself like a fuck doll and loving every second of it.

“‘k..,” Joel nods, “Let’s make her come again and then fuck her sloppy hole. If you don’t mind,” he turns to you and you purr,

“Never.”

Clint smiles and kneels on the floor. They manhandle your body so your ass is hanging off the bed and then Joel orders,

“Bend your knees, yeah, like this.” He lifts your legs and presses your knees to your sides, fully exposing your pussy and asshole to their obsidian eyes.

“Damn,” Joel groans when Clint glides his thumb over your tight ring which contracts at his touch, already soaked with your pussy juices.

Your boyfriend starts first.

He positions your ass at his face, holding your hips with his hands and presses his flat tongue to your asshole. You jerk and whimper, already in seventh heaven.

“Oh my god,” you moan and clasp Clint’s hair. He starts eating your ass, slurping shamelessly, drinking your moans and your pussy nectar, while Joel is kissing your inner thigh.

Your eyes meet and he gives you a warm smile, “Doin good, sweetheart.” Joel brings his hand to your face and cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing your heated skin and you purr at his touch, reveling in his warmth, trembling from every lap of Clint’s tongue against your asshole.

You choke on a moan when Joel leans down to your spread pussy and begins rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps, your thighs start trembling. You run your fingers through Joel’s greying curls and feel tears slide down to your temples when Joel’s tongue finds your entrance and he begins fucking your pussy.

These hot men between your legs, their big hands on you, their mouths devouring your holes— the sight alone can make you come but you fall apart from a shuttering orgasm when Clint pushes his tongue into your asshole and starts fucking you with his hot muscle just like Joel is fucking your pussy hole.

You explode with a loud cry, spraying your juices against Joel’s lips and chin, and he drinks everything he can get, and what escapes his mouth trickles down to your ass where Clint eagerly laps it off your heated skin.

They fuck you all night. Drunk on the unending orgasms, you don’t understand who’s between your thighs, whose cum is spilling into your stretched pussy, but you take each dick happily. They shower you with praise, suck on your puffy nipples, drag their hot hard cocks over your skin before sticking them in your hole again and again.

When your pussy gets filled to the brim, Clint fucks your ass, while Joel watches and jerks off, and then squirts his cum on your hickey-covered tits. Clint licks it off later with Joel’s dick buried deep in your overflowing cunt.

The night is a blur of lust, moans and bodily fluids. The room smells of sweat and sex and you take full lungs of the heady scent before falling asleep.

Early in the morning someone fucks your used pussy again, you have no clue who, and orgasm, dreaming of them both.

When you wake up, you make breakfast for the men, still dripping their loads, your thighs slippery and sticky. They eat and chat, smiling at you from time to time.

Joel’s eyes find yours again and again, they stick to your lips, your neck, your legs, reigniting a fire inside you. Seeing you chewing on your lip and squirming in your chair, Clint pulls you into his lap and kisses you.

At the door before leaving Joel gives you a tight hug and pecks your cheek.

“Thank you for the night, sweetheart.”

You’re leaning against the doorframe, watching him walk to his truck.

“Game on Saturday, Joel. Don’t forget”, Clint shouts to his friend.

Before getting in the car, Joel looks you up and down with his dark eyes and gives you a wink.

“Won’t miss it for the world.”

Clint pulls you in his arms and you smile like a happy cat. You can’t wait for Saturday to come.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world❤️

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @thedilfdiaries @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

People who were interested in the wip posts (no pressure to read, bbs) @sawymredfox @arcanefox207 @wethairjoel @604to647 @keylimebeag

779 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 1 month ago

Text

She Wasn’t a Secret

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: When Oscar casually mentions his wife during a fan Q&A, Lando Norris combusts on stage, the internet loses its mind, Nicole Piastri wonders why her son can’t tell people basic facts about his life—like the fact he’s been married for five years and Mark Webber is quietly regretting his life choices.

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

It started with a ping.

Nicole Piastri was elbow-deep in a tray of Lamingtons when her phone buzzed across the counter. Then again. Then again. Then seven more times.

She wiped her hands, checked the screen, and frowned.

17 notifications. 5 mentions. 2 DMs. One group chat blowing up.

And all of them pointed to the same thing: A tagged video. Captioned: “Lando Norris finding out Oscar Piastri has been married for five years. In real-time. On stage. Live. Absolute scenes.”

Nicole clicked the video, already sighing.

It was exactly what she expected—and somehow so much worse.

Oscar, calm and collected, casually admitting he was married. Lando Norris having an actual breakdown beside him. The interviewer making it her life’s mission to extract every crumb of intel. And Oscar? Completely unbothered. Like he was discussing a weather forecast.

Nicole watched Lando choke, scream, stand up, flail, and nearly combust.

And Oscar? “I thought you knew.” Nicole actually laughed out loud. It was either that or cry.

From the kitchen doorway, Edie poked his head in. “Why do I hear cackling?”

Nicole turned the volume up and played the “I thought you knew” line again.

Edie winced. “Oh. That’s going viral, isn’t it.”

Oscar. Her darling, chronically-understated son. Calm as ever. Dry as toast. Casually dropping “Well, I already did one of those things,” in response to a marriage or tattoo question. Watching poor Lando Norris implode on stage like a wet firework.

Nicole paused the video on Lando’s face in real-time breakdown.

Then sighed.

Deeply.

Because this? This wasn’t even surprising.

The real kicker wasn’t that the media didn’t know.

It was that Lando didn’t know.

Nicole had assumed at the very least Lando was in the loop. He and Oscar were joined at the hip during race weeks. Surely a small, minor detail like, say, being legally wed for half a decade would’ve come up between sim sessions.

But no.

Apparently not.

Because her son, in his infinite, baffling wisdom, had once again forgotten to share anything important about his personal life with anyone outside of a 20-meter radius of his home and maybe Mark Webber.

She muttered to herself as she scrolled through replies.

“Didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend… Didn’t tell me they got married… Didn’t tell me they were having a baby until she was three months pregnant and then only on accident…”

Now the whole world was catching up five years late.

She set her tea down. Reached for her reading glasses. Opened Twitter.

And, with the calm authority of a woman who had lived through every one of her son’s emotional plot twists, typed:

@nicolepiastri: I see the internet is discovering my son is married. Welcome to the club. I, too, found out after the fact 5 years ago. 👍

She hit “post.”

The post went instantly viral.

***

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Nicole: Oscar. Darling. You forgot to mention you had a WIFE?

Chris: Bold strategy, son. Just casually let the global media find out you’ve been married for five years via a “would you rather get married or get a tattoo?” question. Stunning PR planning.

Edie: To be fair, he also forgot to mention it to Lando. Who he is teammates with. Who he shares planes with. Who he trains with. Who he considers a “close friend.” So. Not just the media.

Oscar: I didn’t forget. I just didn’t think it was news???

Hattie: YOU’RE A CELEBRITY. EVERYTHING IS NEWS. My friends thought I was lying when I said you were married. They thought I made it up. I had to show them our family group chat as proof.

Edie: You’re lucky Felicity’s cool. If I was married to you and you never told the world, I would’ve changed the locks 💅 AND I would’ve posted a dramatic black-and-white photo with a Taylor Swift lyric as the caption.

Mae: Can I be flower girl for your next wedding? (Only if it’s to Felicity again. Otherwise I’m not coming.)

Oscar: …I’m not having another wedding, Mae. Still married to the same wife. Still in love with her. Still feeding her sourdough obsession.

Nicole: Honestly, this is so you. I shouldn’t even be surprised. You didn’t even tell us you had a girlfriend.

Chris: Let’s not forget the registry office call: “Hey, we got married.” So romantic. Really moved me to tears.

Nicole: YEAH, let’s not forget that you got MARRIED WITHOUT TELLING YOUR FAMILY!

Oscar: Everyone’s being very dramatic about this.

Hattie: BRO. YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR FIVE. YEARS. AND LANDO JUST FOUND OUT. LIVE. IN FRONT OF CAMERAS. HE SPIT WATER.

Edie: I’ve watched the video 19 times now. It lives in my brain like a Shakespearean tragedy. The betrayal. The disbelief. The squeaky voice crack. Art.

Mae: He screamed so loud a kid in the front row CRIED.

Nicole: Also… since we’re all here… When are you going to mention the other secret? 😏

Oscar: …What secret?

Nicole: Oscar.

Chris: We mean the tiny human one, son.

Mae: BEE!!!! 🐝💛

Oscar: Bee is not a secret.

Hattie: She’s not a secret, no. But she’s also not in your driver bio, not on your Instagram, and not in any single interview you’ve ever done.

Edie: You talk about tire degradation more than your own child. Let that sink in.

Oscar: She’s our daughter. Not a marketing tool.

Nicole: We love that you’re private, sweetheart. But maybe next time you could… I don’t know… mention that you have a wife and daughter?

Chris: Not asking for a billboard, Oscar. Just a family Christmas card. Or, I don’t know, ONE social post that doesn’t feature suspension settings or protein shakes.

Hattie: Just wait till Lando finds out about Bee. You are going to have to physically restrain him.

Edie: His brain barely survived the “I’m married” part. He’s going to go into full reboot mode.

Nicole: He’s going to walk around muttering “He has a wife AND a child?!” for days.

Mae: We should film it. Make a documentary. “Lando Finds Out: The Sequel.”

Oscar: I would like to go one day without a Norris-induced disaster, please.

Chris:

Can’t wait for the Netflix edit. Drive to Survive, Season 7, Episode 3: The Secret Wife (and Daughter???) of Oscar Piastri

Oscar: …Traitors. All of you.

Nicole: No, darling. Just a family who loves you enough to roast you mercilessly.

Hattie: And maybe gently suggest that your entire online presence looks like a robot who eats chicken breast and drives fast.

Edie: We just want the world to know you’re more than carbon fiber and rehydration tablets. You have chickens. A wife. A kid. And still somehow come across as the most emotionally neutral man on the grid.

Mae: You’re like a secret cinnamon roll. With downforce.

Hattie: Oscar Piastri: Calm. Composed. Married with poultry.

Nicole: We love you, darling. But maybe consider letting people in a little next time?

Oscar: …Noted.

***

Mark Webber’s phone buzzed once. Then again. Then five more times in the span of a minute.

He looked at the screen, saw the names of three journalists he hadn’t spoken to in months, and immediately thought: What did Oscar do.

He hadn’t crashed. There hadn’t been any mid-race scandals. No random DNS. No sudden tire blowouts.

So Mark did the rational thing.

He ignored the calls and opened Twitter.

The first thing he saw was a video clip with the caption: “OSCAR PIASTRI DROPS MARRIAGE BOMBSHELL. LANDO NORRIS DIES LIVE ON STAGE.”

Mark blinked. Pressed play.

Thirty seconds in, he was already groaning.

By the time Oscar casually said, “We got married when I was eighteen,” Mark had his face in his hands.

And by the time Lando screamed “YOU HAVE A WIFE?!” in what could only be described as an operatic shriek, Mark was laughing. Because of course.

Of course Oscar had managed to soft-launch a five-year marriage via fan Q&A and thought that was completely normal.

He hadn’t even texted Mark to give him a heads-up. Typical.

Mark took a long sip of his coffee and shook his head with fond exasperation. Then his phone rang again. Another journalist. This one he had to answer.

“Yeah?” Mark said, not bothering with a hello.

“Did you know Oscar was married?” came the breathless voice on the other end. “Like—legally? For five years? Who is she?”

Mark rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I knew.”

A beat of stunned silence.

“You did?!”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “Her name’s Felicity. She’s smarter than all of us combined and makes a lemon slice that could end wars, and rebuilt an engine while eight months pregnant. What else do you want to know?”

“Wait—rebuilt an engine?!”

Mark grinned. “Yeah.”

“But she’s not on his social media! She’s not even in interviews!”

“She doesn’t want to be,” Mark said simply. “She’s his wife, not his brand.”

The journalist let out a choked laugh. “God. She’s going to be a nightmare to research.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mark said.

***

Text Messages – Mark Webber & Oscar Piastri

Mark: Mate. You broke the internet.

Mark: Also. You made Lando scream on stage. Twice.

Mark: I’ve had three different journalists call me asking if I “always knew.”

Oscar: I didn’t think it would be a big deal??

Mark: You are insanely lucky that Felicity is brilliant and terrifying and the entire internet is now in love with her. Otherwise, PR would’ve had you doing apology interviews until Abu Dhabi.

Oscar: She is brilliant. And terrifying. In the best way.

Also, I didn’t hide her.

Mark: No, you just forgot to mention her to your employer, your teammate, the media, and most of the paddock. Tiny oversight.

Oscar: I thought it was obvious.

Mark: She hasn’t been on your socials once. You don’t even post photos of her shoes in the background like a normal soft-launching F1 driver.

Oscar: Didn’t realize I needed to soft launch my marriage.

Mark: I’ve also had three different journalists lose their minds when I told them I’ve met your wife.

I told them that she’s smarter than all of us combined and makes a mean lemon slice.

You married up.

Oscar: I know.

Mark: You really are whipped, huh?

Oscar: Didn’t you know that already?

Mark: Yes, but it’s nice to see it confirmed in front of millions.

Oscar: I’m still not sure how Zak knew though.

Mark: Because I told him. After you signed your contract. He wanted to poach your lawyer. I told him that your “lawyer” was your very smart, very spite driven wife. You should probably tell people things yourself from now on.

Oscar: Noted.

Mark: Anyway. Tell Felicity we owe her a thank-you for soft-launching you into public affection. You’re officially not just “the calm one.” You’re “the poetic husband who tucks love notes into his racing gloves and married his high school sweetheart.”

Oscar: …That’s better than “emotionless robot,” I guess.

Mark: Way better. And hey— Proud of you, kid. Even if you forgot to tell the entire grid you had a wife.

Oscar: Thanks, Mark. Means a lot.

Mark: …you should probably tell people about Bee one of these days though.

Oscar: Will do.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/gridinvestigator: 🚨 THREAD: What we (the internet) know about the elusive, brilliant, chaotic Felicity Piastri , aka the Mysterious Mrs. Piastri, aka Oscar Piastri’s wife, aka the woman who accidentally became a legend overnight. 🧵👇

@/gridinvestigator: 1. First of all, yes—Oscar Piastri has been married for FIVE YEARS. No one knew. Not Lando. Not McLaren. Not us. He dropped it during a “Would you rather get married or get a tattoo?” question. He said: “Well, I already did one of those.”

Cue the meltdown.

@/gridinvestigator: 2. We then found out he married his high school sweetheart three weeks after graduation. Her name is Felicity. They met when they were 14. She let him borrow her pen. He never recovered. A literal Wattpad story.

@/gridinvestigator: 3. Oscar described her as “his best friend,” and “10/10, would always marry her again.” Meanwhile, Felicity said, “We were inevitable.” Honestly? Nicholas Sparks is shaking.

@/gridinvestigator: 4. Felicity Piastri didn’t soft-launch herself. She hard-launched via complete internet domination. Her Instagram is a mix of: 🧠 Academic papers 🛠️ Vintage car rebuilds 🍞 Artisan bread 🐔 Chickens in tiny sweaters 🔧 Engine grease 📐 Chaos

@/gridinvestigator: 5. Now. Here’s where things get ✨interesting✨ You know that quote Oscar made about “meeting her in school”? I FOUND THE YEARBOOK. Yep. Their boarding school published the 2019 edition online.

Sidenote: I think they both graduated a year early in 2019 and not 2020?!

@/gridinvestigator: 6. I clearly have too much time, because I went through both the 2020 and the 2019 Year Books until I found a girl named Felicity: Felicity Leong - Dance, Science Club President, Mandarin Club, Technology Club and concertmaster aka first violin in the orchestra.

@/gridinvestigator: 7. Oh and if that aren’t enough extra curriculars activities: Guess who took 17 GCSEs (10 +/- are considered “normal”) and cleared them all with a 9, which is the highest grade you can get? Felicity. She also had the highest A- Level grades of the whole school in the maximum of 5 subjects you are allowed to take one year later.

@/gridinvestigator: 8. The yearbook also mentions her getting a perfect math score and winning a physics prize

@/gridinvestigator: 9. She graduated 2 (?!) years later in 2021 with a Master in Mechanical Engineering from Imperial College London. Don’t ask me how in the world she did that.

@/gridinvestigator: 10. Felicity is basically the anti-WAG. No brand deals. No champagne yacht pics. Just her, an angle grinder, a loaf of bread, and a whiteboard full of math.

And somehow Oscar managed to keep this whole goddess-level woman a secret for five YEARS.

@/gridinvestigator: 12. TLDR: – Her name is Felicity Leong – She was Oscar’s classmate

– She’s terrifyingly smart – They eloped at 18 and told no one – She is now the internet’s most beloved mystery wife – Oscar is obsessed with her

– she restores vintage cars, bakes like a god and solves equations for fun

***

The chickens were louder than usual this morning.

Felicity didn’t blame them. She felt a little off-kilter herself—though not because the global internet had decided to collectively lose its mind over the fact that she was married to a Formula 1 driver.

(Okay. Fine. That was probably part of it.)

She stepped into the coop in gumboots and a hoodie stolen from Oscar, hair still in a haphazard braid Bee had done the night before. She was met with indignant clucks and flapping wings.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered, scattering feed like a benevolent rural god. “You’re dramatic. We get it.”

Rosie, the scraggly rescue hen who thought she was a rooster, pecked at her ankle with all the fury of someone deeply offended by late breakfast.

“Take it up with the PR team,” Felicity muttered.

She dropped Bee off at kindergarten wearing old jeans with a patch on the knee and a t-shirt that said Math is not a spectator sport. One of the other mums stared a little too long at her before whispering something to a friend.

Felicity smiled and waved.

Felicity wasn’t surprised by the chaos. She had told Oscar it would happen eventually. Told him people would find out. That one day, he’d make some offhanded comment and the fandom would explode like Mentos in Coke.

What she hadn’t expected was for it to be over a “Would you rather” question. Or for it to involve Lando Norris nearly choking on his own spit on stage.

She’d watched the clip exactly once. With toast. And coffee.

Then she opened the garage.

Her current project sat like a sleeping beast under the suspended work lights: a 1969 Alfa Romeo Spider, stripped down to its bones. Half-sanded, one door missing, the kind of restoration that most people would call madness.

She called it Monday.

She put on her gloves, tied her hair back, and picked up the angle grinder.

Around noon, she stopped for coffee and opened Instagram. Her notifications were, unsurprisingly, a mess.

There was a fan edit of her baking sourdough while wielding a torque wrench. Someone had made a Twitter thread comparing her to various Marvel characters (Shuri with a sourdough starter was trending). Another post showed a blurry screenshot of her academic transcript with the caption “Oscar Piastri’s wife could do your homework, restore your car, out-bake your grandma and defeat you in hand-to-hand combat”.

She took a sip of coffee and muttered, “Dramatic.”

At 2:30 p.m., she washed the grease off her hands, swapped the engine oil scent for something vaguely lavender, and went to pick up Bee.

Bee ran out clutching a glittery rock and a half-drawn picture of Oscar holding a steering wheel and a loaf of bread. Felicity accepted both like priceless relics.

“Mama, can we bake today?” Bee asked as they walked to the car.

“Only if you promise not to eat half the cookie dough before we’re done.”

Bee grinned. “No promises.”

By 5 p.m., the kitchen smelled like vanilla and warm sugar. Bee was elbow-deep in flour. Senna had wandered inside again. Felicity didn’t bother kicking her out.

She kneaded the dough slowly, rhythmically. Felt the tension leave her shoulders.

Fame was fine. Chaos was familiar.

But this—flour under her nails, Bee humming beside her, a project waiting in the garage and a husband texting her to say he loved her between media obligations—this was the life she chose.

That night, after Bee was asleep—cuddled up with Button the frog and a bedtime story half-finished—Felicity sat on the back porch with a cup of tea and looked up at the sky.

So, the internet knew now. Fine.

She hadn’t done any of it for them.

She had fallen in love with a boy who drove like silence and calm, and kissed like he already knew how the future would feel. They’d built a life in soft corners and early mornings, in engine grease and sourdough, in whispered bedtime promises and braids and “Every lap”.

Let the world look.

This part wasn’t theirs anyway.

It was hers.

***

Transcript: Post-Race Media Pen – Chinese Grand Prix

Journalist: Oscar, first of all—great drive today. P8 in tricky conditions, well done.

Oscar: Thanks. Yeah, it was a bit chaotic out there, but we managed it well. Happy with the result.

Journalist: Okay, we have to ask—your name has been trending non-stop since last weekend. Not because of your race… but because of your wife. The internet’s gone absolutely feral.

Oscar: (blinks slowly) Right.

Journalist #2: Felicity. Married five years. High school sweetheart. Literally no one knew. You didn’t mention her until a fan Q&A. Everyone’s calling it “the soft launch of the century.” Any comment?

Oscar: (shrugs slightly) She wasn’t a secret.

Journalist: (incredulous) But you never posted about her! Never talked about her! Lando said he didn’t know!

Oscar: I mean… I didn’t realize it was something I had to announce. We’ve been married for five years. It’s not new.

Journalist: So why didn’t you ever bring her up?

Oscar: My wife’s just… mine. She’s been there since before Formula 1, before most of this. We weren’t hiding anything. We just didn’t post about it. That’s all.

Journalist: So no regrets about how it came out?

Oscar: Not really. People know now. That doesn’t change anything. She’s still my best friend. Still the smartest person I’ve ever met. Still the reason I’m able to do what I do and come home happy.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/formulafemmes “My wife’s just… mine.” Oscar Piastri said that with his whole chest. Softly. Calmly. Casually. And now I’m lying face down on the kitchen floor.

@/gridgossip the way oscar said “she’s still my best friend” with zero hesitation??? sir. we’re just trying to survive here. you didn’t have to be poetic at a media pen.

@/wifeloversanonymous “we weren’t hiding anything. we just didn’t post about it.” that’s the most mature, emotionally grounded response I’ve ever heard. I am so sorry for calling you a robot for three seasons.

@/felicitynation the way he said “she’s been there since before Formula 1” like she’s his origin story and not just his spouse. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

@/lan_doughnut Lando finding out Oscar has a wife: 😱😱😱 Oscar, two days later, sipping water like it’s no big deal: “she wasn’t a secret.” this man is unshakable.

@/piastrirealupdates “Still the reason I’m able to do what I do and come home happy.” Oscar Piastri you have exactly 2 seconds to stop or I will start writing poetry about you and your wife and your chickens.

@/drive_to_thirst oscar: “she’s mine. not mclaren’s. not the internet’s.” me: 💍🥺🥖🛐🧪🧡📐 (this is now the official felicity piastri emoji combo, don’t @ me)

@/chaoticwagtracker imagine being felicity piastri. you’re just out here baking bread, rebuilding carburetors, feeding chickens, and your husband is on global TV being like “she’s mine. she makes me happy. she’s my best friend.” like WHAT DO YOU DO WITH THAT???

@/softpitstops someone check on every F1 PR manager. because oscar just made 90% of the grid look emotionally underdeveloped in 20 seconds.

@/felicityfanaccount it’s the shrug. it’s the “she wasn’t a secret” shrug. like he genuinely didn’t think we’d care. like he genuinely thought this was normal. the bar is now in another galaxy.

@/oscarupdates “my wife’s just… mine.” Sir?? You can’t just say that and walk off like you didn’t emotionally rupture 2 million people??

@/felicitybrainrot oscar calling felicity “his best friend” and “the reason he comes home happy” after casually revealing she’s smarter than him??? i am lying face down on the floor. do not disturb.

@/gridchaosadmin “we weren’t hiding anything, we just didn’t post about it” is SO MUCH more romantic than any soft-launch story I’ve ever heard. he didn’t even try to curate it. he just lived it.

@/burners4felicity oscar: she’s mine. me: i am normal. i am rational. i am going feral in the parking lot. i am

@/lan_doughnut lando: “he never even mentioned her!” oscar: “she’s still the reason i’m able to do what i do and come home happy.” we are living through a modern shakespearean drama and its name is “The Piastri Marriage Reveal”

@/formula1romance he said “she’s still my best friend” and i felt that in my bloodstream. like. she’s not his aesthetic. she’s not his PR move. she’s his person. i’m crying and baking bread in her honor.

@/piastriwifeupdates “my wife’s just mine” is the kind of phrase that gets etched into a wedding ring or tattooed in tiny script on someone's ribs. you don’t recover from that.

@/felicitypiastrifanclub “we didn’t post about it, that’s all.” you’re telling me these two eloped at 18, never once posted each other, built a life with chickens and vintage cars, and just EXISTED while being soulmates?????@/drivetosurvivepls Netflix watching Oscar Piastri go viral for being emotionally devastating in 8 words or less and frantically rewriting their entire season outline

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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bitchesuntitled · 4 months ago

Text

Fresh Meat

Joel Miller x F!Reader wc: 3,452

Summary: Finally deciding to get your first tattoo, you go to the best in the business - Joel Miller. Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+, No outbreak AU, Joel is a tattoo artist, Explicit Language, random female character(iykyk), reader has shoulder length hair, unprotected PinV, fingering(f!receiving), Joel Miller has a filthy mouth(I blame Pedro’s gym picture for this) , I went off memory on tattoo aftercare, reader is getting her first tattoo A/N: First, thank you for your eyeballs and help on this one @beefrobeefcal, @noxturnalnymph, @jennaispunk, and @strang3lov3. Second, this is a very belated birthday present for @jay-zzle who I have screamed about more times than I can even count. It all started with her making a random post looking for Pedro Pascal character fic recs and here we are over a year later! I would not even be writing if it weren't for her. I love you, I'm so very glad we met and I’m so happy you are in my life ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist||AO3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

The thought has crossed your mind plenty of times. It wasn’t as if your family was against tattoos. It was just a lot to consider, between marking your body permanently, and the pain of a needle stabbing into your skin hundreds of times. What if you wake up one day, look at yourself in the mirror and hate it? What then? Laser removal is more expensive than a tattoo and, from what you’ve heard - even more painful.

You’ve done the research, asked the right questions and on your twenty-seventh birthday, you finally decide to bite the bullet and do it. You’re getting tattooed by the Joel Miller. He’s been in the tattoo business for over thirty years now. You studied his line work extensively, scrolling through his Instagram page for hours on end. His name is in tattoo magazines around the world claiming to be one of the best in the business. You steady yourself before grabbing the door handle, feeling the cool steel against your palm, before pulling it open to hear a ding above your head.

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” the platinum-blonde woman says, giving you a friendly smile. “What can I help you with?”

“Uh, J-Joel?” You stammer, eyes wide looking around the shop, colorful pieces of art plastered on the walls, the faint sounds of buzzing surround your ears like a mosquito searching for a spot to bite, “I’m su- supposed to meet-,” you clear your throat, shaking your hands against your sides, gripping the strap of your purse that rests across your body tightly, letting out a nervous chuckle, “Sorry, nervous. I have an appointment with Joel.”

“Ah!” She smirks, clicking around on the computer in front of her. “You must be his three o’clock! Girl, you got lucky with that cancellation. He’s been completely booked for the next six months!” She adds with a laugh, lightly smacking the counter before leaning her tiny frame against it. “Joel!” Her voice booms, “Your three is here!”

“Ah, fresh meat!” Joel’s voice echoes down the hall. “Think she can handle it, Miko?”

“I think so,” she shrugs, smiling while eyeing you up and down. “This your first?”

“Yeah,” you murmur shyly, eyes glancing at your shoes, kicking nervously at the checkered floor.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she beams proudly, “Joel will take good care of you!”

—

You sit in the chair, glancing around the walls of the room. Multiple magazine cutouts praising Joel’s work are hung in black frames, and beautiful artwork is scattered throughout the space. You notice a sticker plastered on the wall that says No Weenies Allowed and let out a soft laugh.

“So you’re wantin’ it behind your ear?” Joel asks. You jump at his sudden presence, stepping into the room. “Sorry, darlin’,” he smirks, “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

“It’s okay.” You state, feeling your face heat up. “Uhm, yeah, I was hoping to get it behind my ear, like right here.” You rub the spot behind your ear with a single finger, dangerously close to your hairline. The messages you and Joel had swapped back and forth; he had mentioned possibly needing to shave some of your hair to do the tattoo.

“Ya mind?” He asks, sitting on a stool before you, studying where your finger sits.

“Go ahead,” you murmur, moving your hand away to make room for him.

Joel reaches toward your neck, gently brushing your hair back to examine the spot behind your ear. His hand rests gently against the side of your neck, covering most of it. Your breath hitches, feeling the warmth radiating from his palm. He hums, stroking his thumb against the spot behind your ear.

“Good news,” Joel smirks, his big brown eyes looking into your own, “Shouldn’t have to shave any of your hair.”

“Th- that’s good!” You stutter with a shy smile as his thumb continues stroking the spot behind your ear. “Is it a good spot for my first?” You ask, feeling your face get hot again.

“S’perfect.” Joel whispers, “No need to be nervous. I’ll take good care of ya.” He adds with a playful wink.

—

“A’right,” Joel starts, putting on a pair of black latex gloves and grabbing a razor. “You’re not allergic to anything, right?”

“No.” You squeak out, glaring at the comically small razor in his hand. “I thought we didn’t have to shave my hair?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He grins, “Jus’ gotta get the baby hairs off your neck. Won’t touch any a’ that beautiful hair on your head.” He grabs a bottle off the small table beside the chair, squeezing a small amount of the cool liquid out behind your ear before gently gliding the razor across your delicate skin.

“I noticed the ‘No Weenies Allowed’ sticker, but what if I am one?” You ask, a soft giggle escaping your lips. He moves to throw away the razor in a container labeled sharps on the wall.

“Nah, you’re a tough one,” he laughs, turning slightly to look at you, giving you a wink, “Can feel it in my bones. Gonna put the stencil on ya next.”

“Where did you get that, anyway? " you ask, pointing at the sticker in an attempt to distract yourself from the shiver running down your spine as he rubs more of the cool liquid onto your skin with a paper towel. His knuckle nudges against the side of your chin, turning your head slightly to the side, and he gently places the stencil against that spot behind your ear, smoothing it out firmly with the pads of his fingers.

You can feel your face growing warmer again. You knew Joel was attractive by the pictures you’d seen of him, but in person? The ink etched into his skin, the dark brown of his irises, the broad expanse of his shoulders, his gentle but firm touch against your skin, the easy way he can soothe your nerves, the way he walks you through the entire process, there’s no wonder why they say he’s the best in the business.

“My kid got it for me! Thought it’d be perfect for the shop.” He states, gently removing the stencil and fanning your neck with his hand. “Gotta let that dry for a bit.”

You let out a soft sigh, waiting for the stencil to dry, listening to him prepare the small table beside him. His fingers gently tap against your neck. “You can go ahead and look in the mirror. Make sure you like the spot; if you don’t, we can move it.”

You stand from the chair, walking towards the mirror, and turn your head trying to glance at the stencil placement.

“Shit,” Joel grunts, standing up “Wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, sweetheart, here.” He stands behind you with a mirror. He brushes your hair back, placing the mirror for you to see the stencil more clearly. Your smile is beaming as you see the outline on your neck, chancing a look at Joel in the mirror. His eyes meet yours, a soft smile on his face as his broad body stands so close behind you. “Like it?” He asks. You nod, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Just gotta get a couple more things ready.” He states, walking back to his stool, “Go’head and sit back down.” His biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt as he shakes a bottle full of black ink, squirting the ink into small containers on the table. Your mouth feels dry, watching him move around like an expert within the little corner of his shop. “I have to show you that this is a brand new needle,” Joel instructs, showing you the packaging of a needle. Your smile falters, eyes widening, staring at the needle, nodding dumbly as he opens it and places it within his tattoo gun.

“Okay,” he announces, fiddling with the tattoo gun in his hands, starting and stopping it randomly, “ya ready?”

You take a deep breath in, slowly letting the air escape your lungs before nodding. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you murmur.

“Go ‘head and turn your head towards the wall for me, darlin’,” Joel says, his thick fingers lightly pushing your chin in the direction he wants you to go.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths in and out, awaiting the feel of the needle against your skin.

“Here we go,” Joel murmurs in your ear, you hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun grow closer, feeling a slick ointment pressed into your skin, wincing when you feel the sharp needle pierce your skin. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, taking note of the grimace on your face.

“Doing okay,” you breathe out, resting your hands against your stomach, focusing on the rise and fall of your tummy. The needle strokes against your skin, creating a permanent fixture on your body for the rest of your life. The slight tinge of pain creates a wave of goosebumps to ripple across your flesh. Joel hums softly in your ear to the tune playing on the radio as he moves the needle with precision. Your nipples harden under your shirt, your face warming with embarrassment, hoping with everything in your being that your bra has enough padding to cover the traitorous peaks of your breasts.

“Doin’ good for me, sweetheart,” Joel murmurs, swiping the towel against your neck. “Just a couple more lines, and then we’ll be done.”

“Okay,” you squeak out, careful not to nod as he speaks, “This doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, a cocky lilt to his voice, “Told ya I’d take good care of ya.”

“Yeah,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “Kinda feels good.”

“Careful now, you’ll get addicted!” He chuckles into your ear. The buzzing stops, and he wipes the towel against your neck again. “A’right, all done,” Joel murmurs, turning your chin towards him. Your breath hitches as you look into his deep chocolate eyes, pupils dilating before your eyes as his gaze travels down your neck to your chest. Clearing his throat before instructing you, “Take your time getting up, okay? Don’t need ya passin’ out on my floor thinkin’ you’re all fine an’ dandy.”

You give a slight nod of your head, averting your eyes from him quickly. Joel takes his gloves off and starts cleaning things off the small table.

“Ya a’right?” He asks softly, glancing over at you.

“Yeah, just worried about the passing out thing.” You murmur, holding in an anxious laugh.

“C’mere,” Joel instructs, holding out his hand. You grab it to help hoist yourself up from the chair. He keeps a firm but gentle hold of your arm, walking you towards the mirror. “Here, darlin’,” he gently coos, holding the mirror up behind you so you can see the permanent art on your body.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you breathe, feeling a lump in your throat, “It’s beautiful!”

Joel can’t contain his smile behind you, his pearly whites on display as he continues to watch you studying the art on your skin. You stumble forward towards the mirror, feeling a slight rush of headiness. Joel grips your hip, pulling your back flush to his front.

“Sorry,” you giggle, your hand shooting up, trying to cover the grin on your face. “I think I got a little too excited.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Joel hums, his thumb sneaking up the hem of your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your hip. Your heart races from his simple touch. You glance in the mirror, watching as his eyes travel up and down your body. “This okay?” He asks, cocking his brow, his hand resting against your stomach, fingers tracing soft patterns above the waistline of your jeans. You nod dumbstruck, glancing away from the mirror to look at the door. “S’okay, baby,” Joel huskily whispers in your ear, “No one’s gonna come back here.”

He slowly blows on your new tattoo, feeling the cool air against your heated skin; a small whimper escapes your lips, back arching against his chest, your ass pushing against his groin. You can feel the outline of his stiff erection through the denim of his jeans. Joel lets out a soft groan, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his hand skimming down to the button of your jeans.

“Still okay?” He coos, teeth nibbling against your ear.

“Joel,” you whine softly, your hand grasping against the arm holding you, the other reaching behind you, slipping your fingers between the thick curls on the nape of his neck.

“You’re okay, pretty girl,” he growls into the crook of your shoulder, “You did so good getting your first tattoo.” One of his hands moves, gripping your chin and turning your face to crash his lips into your own. His tongue sliding between your lips, swirling the thick muscle around your mouth, claiming the soft moan that rolls out of your throat into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp, chest heaving, your lips catching the corner of his mouth as the hand that was rubbing gentle patterns into your skin deftly works the button and zipper of your jeans open, slipping his hand down to feel the cotton of your underwear. Your hips buck as his thick fingers press firmly against your cloth-covered clit, a whine erupting out of you.

“Shhhh,” Joel smirks, nosing your temple, “Look in the mirror, baby. Did someone figure out that a little pain is nice?”

Your eyes close, head leaning back against his shoulder, warmth spreading throughout your body, wiggling against him as his fingers continue to rub circles against your swollen clit.

“I said look in the mirror,” he grunts, gripping your chin harshly forcing you to look at the mirror. A gasp escapes your lips, eyes widening as Joel’s dark eyes stare at you in the mirror. “You gonna let me fuck you, pretty girl?” He asks, firmly grinding his bulge into your ass.

“Yes,” you breathe out, swallowing thickly. Joel smirks, kissing your jaw. “Fuck,” you whisper, your thighs beginning to shake from the delicious pressure Joel’s putting on that bundle of nerves.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he softly groans against your skin. His lips placing soft kisses and gentle sucks against the crook of shoulder, making sure to be careful of your new tattoo. “So glad that fucker cancelled so you could come in,” Joel sighs, sliding his fingers under the band of your panties. “So fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he hums. “This all for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, trying to catch your breath. You can feel the band in your stomach about to snap. “Joel,” you mewl, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” Joel smirks, his index and middle fingers ghosting along your weeping hole as his thumb continues its pleasurable rhythm against your nub.

“More,” you beg, gripping the arm that’s down your pants, nails biting into his forearm. “Please -fuck- more. So close.”

“You gonna come, baby?” Joel husks against your hairline, “Come all over my fingers?”

You let out a pathetic whine, hips bucking into his hand and pleading desperately for more before feeling his thick fingers plunge into your tight heat.

“Fuck me, pretty girl,” Joel growls, moving his fingers in a syrupy slow rhythm, “Pussy’s just beggin’ to be filled, huh?”

“Yes,” you whimper, the band in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as Joel continues to spew filth into your ear. His fingers crook up, reaching that spot that very few before him have been able to find, bumping against it on every stroke in and out of your sex. “Oh god,” you moan out, “Joel, please, faster.” You can feel your walls clamping down against his fingers, just needing that extra bit more to throw you over the edge. Joel pumps his fingers in again, holding them at that spot, firmly swiping them back and forth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna- I’m gon-” cutting yourself off as that band finally snaps, gushing all over his hand.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smiles, slick lingering between your thighs and sliding against your tummy as he removes his fingers, bringing the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking them clean with a lewd -pop- as they leave his mouth. “Taste so fucking good.”

You giggle, in shock, unable to believe that just happened. First tattoo and you got fingered by Joel Miller? You would mark this birthday a success as is.

“Now,” Joel says, clearing his throat, gently brushing your hair to the side, “In all seriousness. You need to make sure you keep this clean,” he states, you hear the jingle of a belt buckle and a zipper being undone before he’s grabbing your jeans and underwear, slipping them down your legs. “Mmmm,” he hums, peeking down to get a good look at your ass, gripping the root of his cock, swiping the tip between your soaked folds. “Feel so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, glancing toward the door again.

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, gripping your chin to force your vision to focus back on the mirror. “You keep lookin’ here, a’right?” Your eyes bore into his dark orbs, nodding. “Good girl,” he grunts, notching himself at your entrance. “Just keep lookin’ in the mirror, don’t worry ‘bout anythin’ else,” he instructs, pushing his thick length into you.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly, hands reaching out, landing on the mirror before you.

“Oh fuck, pretty girl,” He grunts, gripping a handful of your hair. “Look at ya,” he sneers in the mirror, taking in the fucked out expression on your face, “This what ya needed? This cock inside your tight little pussy?”

You whimper, feeling him saw in and out of you at a punishing pace.

“Where was I?,” he grunts, his hips smacking against the flesh of your ass, “Thas right, keep your tattoo clean.” Joel pulls his hips back, glancing down at his glistening cock. “Fuck me,” he whispers in awe. “Three times a day should be good,” he huffs, thrusting back into you, tugging on your hair. “You listening, baby? Shit’s important.”

You nod, trying to focus on his instructions.

“Need ya t’put a small amount of aquaphor on it during the day,” he groans, “Just enough t’keep it moist. Not a whole bunch though, don’t need your new ink as wet as this pussy.” Joel chuckles, watching the way your ass ripples as he slams back into your squelching cunt. “It gets itchy? Smack it - don’t - fucking - scratch - it.” He punctuates his instructions with powerful thrusts between each word. “Don’t fuck up my art, baby.”

“O-o-oh god,” you mewl, feeling your walls flutter around his length.

“Repeat it.” Joel commands, sliding his fingers down to your throbbing clit. “Need t’know you were listenin’, baby.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, taking a shuddering breath. “W-wash it, three -ungh- three times a day, a-a-and put on aquaphor.”

“How much aquaphor?” Joel asks, snapping his length into you sharply.

“Small amount, not a lot.”

“Not a lot like what?” Joel chuckles, gripping your hair tighter. His fingers swirling circles around your bundle of nerves.

“M-m-my pussy,” you moan, feeling so close to falling off that ledge of ecstasy.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel grunts, “Know you’re gettin’ close. Can feel that tight pussy squeezing my cock, baby.” You moan softly, nails sliding against the glass of the mirror, the walls of your pussy growing tighter with each of Joel’s thrusts, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over you, finally tipping you off that ledge.

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, loosening your hair in favor of gripping your hips tightly, pulling you roughly towards him half a dozen more times, chasing his own climax before he erupts, hot ropes of his come paint your inner walls. “So fucking good, baby.” He huffs, his head landing between your shoulder blades. Sweat clinging to both your bodies, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll go over tattoo aftercare again,” Joel grunts, pulling out of your wet heat, twin groans escaping both of you, chuckling against your shoulder blades, “Don’t want ya missin’ anythin’ important I might have told ya.”

“Don’t think I could.” You smirk, giggling, feeling him fumble behind you, “Not with that sort of lesson.”

Joel turns you around, kneeling down to grab your pants. “Hey wait a minute. In our messages you said this was your birthday present to yourself, right?” He asks, smiling up at you.

“Uh, yeah.” You nod, avoiding his eyes, face warming while remembering your nervous rambling to him as he helps you right your clothes. “It’s today, m-my birthday is today.”

“Well then,” Joel stands, his hand gripping your jaw to tilt your face to his, giving you a tender kiss, “Happy fuckin’ birthday, sweetheart.”

NPT for those who seemed interested: @whocaresstillthelouvre @vichons @pinkypromisepascal

Thanks for reading! If you liked please comment or reblog letting me know!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #tattoo artist!joel miller #bitchesuntitled

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ogwintersmind · 4 months ago

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Kiss the chef ꨄ — katsuki

Katsuki is an amazing chef, after years of watching his mother cooking and baking in the kitchen, it’s only natural that he'd pick up on the habit.

As time wore on cooking would become one of his main love languages. He isn't too big on physical touch (or so he claims. He’s so clingy...) He's terrible at compliments and expressing his feelings without adding some witty comments, though he tries, it's safe to say words of affirmation aren't his main love language. But acts of service (specifically cooking/baking) he could do that.

Whether it be Japanese, American, Korean, Mexican, Italian, etc, this man can cook! And it's always the best food you've ever had. I mean so good your taste buds are dancing, celebrating and, thanking whatever food god there is for blessing them with these amazing flavors and spices.

He also hates when you ask to go out for fast food like McDonald's or Wing Stop, his answer is always "No, we have McDonald's at home.” while he proceeds to make you the best burger and fries you've ever had.

One day you're on break at work and start scrolling through TikTok to pass the time. While scrolling you come across a video of a woman making homemade chicken and waffles + cinnamon rolls from scratch (idk I saw a TikTok of both recently so that's on my mind.) and they looked so good!

You send the TikTok's to katsuki of course, like you always do.

— MSG

“Look how good this looks! She's eating like royalty and I'm stuck at work eating leftovers 💔.” - YOU

"It's cinnamon rolls, chicken and waffles ou how is that "royalty" idiot? - KATS

"And I made those left overs so have some respect would you.”

“I never said the leftovers were bad.“

“I'd just much rather have the royalty meal.”

“‘Royalty meal’ you're such an idiot, get back to work.”

“Fine. See you later I love you ❤️❤️”

“See you idiot.”

“Love you❤️.”

Obviously, after this conversation, he immediately goes to the kitchen and starts setting out the ingredients for the chicken and waffles + cinnamon rolls.

He gets the chicken breasts, cutting them up and pulling Off any extra fat. He mixes his seasonings with the flour and makes the buttermilk. After this he coats the chicken In the flour, then the buttermilk, then back into the flour once more.

After frying all of the chicken he gets started on the waffles, once those are done he sets the chicken and waffles to the side and starts on the cinnamon rolls.

After all of the cooking is done he plates the chicken and waffles, topping the waffles with whipped cream and fruits, before drenching everything In syrup.

Just then the front door unlocks, and a moment later you come into the kitchen.

“You're 10 minuets late, idiot." katsuki says while walking over to you and placing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Traffic.” you say while clearly more interested in the food on the counter.

“I made yer damn royalty meal or whatever. Taste it.”

You quickly grab the plate and dig In. And of course, it's the best thing ever!? Who knew chicken and waffles could taste like a 10 ⭐️ meal? And you can taste all of the love he cooked it with.

“This is so good i could literally cry.” you say while inhaling the food. Katsuki is just standing there shaking his head.

“It’s literally chicken and waffles you're so dramatic.” he secretly loves that you like the food so much, it makes him happy that he can express his love for you through this action instead of having to use his words because you know.. this guy stinks at communication.

“I made the cinnamon rolls too. They're in the oven.” you push the plate a side, “Give them to me now! Pleaase.”

He rolls his eyes and gets the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and places them on the counter. He grabs a spatula and hands it to you and you immediately try to cut one of the cinnamon rolls out of the pan but he stops you. “Whattt??” You ask with an annoyed look on your face.

“Don’t give me that damn look, idiot. You know the rules. Eat the food, kiss the chef.” He says bluntly. He made this stupid rule up about 6 months into the relationship and now every time u eat anything he cooks he expects a kiss in return.

You let out a huff as if you’re annoyed but there's a large smile on your face. You lean up to kiss the idiot. “There. Now can I eat?”

You’re joking right..? He made you your royalty meal and you have the nerve to PECK his lips? He’s genuinely offended and his face says it all.

“That’s all I get?? Come ‘ere.” he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into a gentle tongue kiss. "Don't you ever disrespect me like that again, eat yer dam food, idiot."

THE END (cs I’m lazy)

Hi friends!

I haven't been posting because I have no ideas + no motivation... But I wanted to get something posted because inconsistency is not a good look.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

Thank you for reading!

Not proofread

(Commenting improvement tips are highly appreciated!)

(Commenting or sending messages for recommendations are highly appreciated as well! I check my notifications hourly and every day so please please do recommend! It’s very appreciated especially with my head space at the. Moment!!)

xo -winter ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

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swordgrace · 8 months ago

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❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x you #lord of the rings #rings of power #lotr x reader #the rings of power #rings of power x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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cats-and-space · 24 days ago

Text

Greetings, mortals (and those whom are not mortals among us).

How are you this fine June 1st (or… not June 1st)? However you’re doing, I wish you a wonderful pride month ahead! (I don’t think I can wish someone longer than a wonderful month. I’ll just have to do this every month 👍)

I have a question for my fellow aces out there!

(Edit to add: there was a request to add the option “knew I was ace before knowing the word for it.” Unfortunately, I can’t change the poll options, but if this would be your answer, use the tags or comments. Happy pride everybody! 💜)

I would love to hear your answers!!

Edit (June 3rd): Damn. Over 500 votes already?? I was already surprised I got more votes than just myself. Thanks for interacting with this, y’all! I love scrolling through the comments and tags and seeing all the different experiences everyone has. 💜

Again, have a wonderful pride month, my lovelies! You deserve it!! 💜

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

(I hope the formatting doesn’t get screwed up on that… 😬)

#ace #acespec #asexual #asexuality #ace pride #bisexual #pansexual #pride month #also: wahoo! it’s pride month!#happy pride to all my fellow queer folk! I love y’all 🏳️‍🌈#polls

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jobean12-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Work It Out

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (modern day au)

Word count: 900

Summary: You’ve been away for the weekend on a work trip and when you return but don’t contact Joel immediately he worries.

Author’s Note: the pic below nearly ended me. His arms are just🥵🔥 I just had to write a little something! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: Joel is worried about you but he’s soft about it, implied sexy times, fluff

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

He steps off the treadmill and grabs the towel dangling from the handrail, mopping the sweat from his face.

Dropping to the mat he gives himself a few minutes to recover before working through a set of core exercises.

He would never admit that keeping busy without you would mean daily visits to the gym to work out the restless need he felt.

How many more hours?

Once his abs are burning, he gets to his feet and moves to the bench press. But instead of lying down, he slips his phone out of his pocket for the hundredth time.

Eleven thirty.

You should be home by now. Why hadn’t you text or called yet?

With a hard swallow he lays back and tries to focus on the exercise but when his phone buzzes on the floor he jerks up and grabs it, sighing when he sees it’s Tommy calling.

He doesn’t bother to answer, knowing he’ll just be extra grumpy and instead scrolls to your name. His finger hovers over the button and then he curses under his breath and nearly chucks the device across the gym.

He’ll give you another half hour. After that he’s going to check on you.

The drive back had been slow and boring, just like the whole weekend of work. They never made these conferences any fun and you were so ready to sleep in your own bed with Joel.

Your phone is nearly dead when you walk through your door and you drop it onto the coffee table, planning to plug it in and call Joel as soon as you pee.

Tiredness takes over quickly and you shuffle to the kitchen, searching for something to eat. When you have a snack in hand you head back to the couch and grab your phone, seeing that the screen is black.

Where is your charger? Most likely buried somewhere in your bag.

You’ll just close your eyes for a minute then get up and get it.

Joel sits for maybe ten seconds after he makes the second call and it goes to your voicemail then he vaults off the bench and out of the gym, his hands unsteady as he looks for the keys for his pickup.

“Fuck.” He turns in a dizzying circle, finding nothing, and willing his phone to make some noise.

“Where the fuck are you baby?” he says to himself as he finally spots his keys and heads for the truck.

You wake to the sound of your door being practically kicked in and jackknife off the couch, screaming so loudly the neighbors must hear.

You’re probably being robbed.

Wakefulness collides with reality, and you start to focus.

You’re not being robbed. Not unless some sweaty, almost six-foot, grumpy guy with narrowed eyes has fallen on really tough times.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t move, he just stares at you, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“You never answered my call. Didn’t even ring. Right to voicemail.”

“What?”

He swallows hard, his voice rough.

“You were supposed to call me as soon as you got in. I never heard and then I couldn’t get through…”

All at once, his words click, and you slowly stand.

“Oh, Joel baby, I’m sorry. I just wanted to sit for a minute. My phone died and I was going to plug it in. The drive made me so sleepy…”

He lets out a loud exhale and then without warning, barrels toward you like a missile to scoop you into his arms.

Instantly, he buries his face in your neck and breaths deeply, gathering you closer.

“Did you break any laws getting over here?” you ask, a smile playing on your lips.

“Probably all of them but I don’t give a shit. I was worried.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, and you inhale against his skin, letting the combination of soap and sweat seep into your body.

He walks you over to the couch and turns to sit down heavily. You have no choice but to wrap your thighs around his hips and straddle him on the couch.

Your cheek lays against his warm shoulder and you lift your fingertips to dance along his bare arm, tracing along the muscles that are flexed tightly with the way he’s holding you.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

You lift your head to make eye contact, momentarily silenced by the look of pure, undiluted adoration in his eyes.

“I missed you too.”

His attention falls to your mouth, and he leans in, finding the pulse at the base of your neck and spreading warm air across your fluttering skin, kissing you there.

Slowly, torturously, his lips move all the way to your ear. “Shower with me.”

You give him a little sniff and a playful smile.

“Very funny,” he deadpans, shifting so you can feel him between your legs.

You let out a gasp.

His head moves and his lips graze yours, holding the position without kissing you for a beat and you nod, your mouth brushing his.

He stands from the couch with you in his arms, walking toward the bathroom and letting you slide down his body until your feet touch the floor where he crowds you against the wall.

“So soft,” he praises in your ear as his fingers delicately trace the skin on your stomach just above your pants.

Your nails dig into his biceps, and you thrust your hips toward his, chasing the feel of his body.

“Don’t rush me angel,” he murmurs into your skin. “I wanna savor every gorgeous inch of you.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x reader

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