#do you really have to have his attention at all times | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

definitelysel · 2 days

Text

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius…

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,” He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking. It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish. On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!?

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles.

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

999 notes · View notes

formula-nyoom · 23 hours

Text

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement.

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat.

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes.

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you.

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day.

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

“You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said.

“No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

“What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

“You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

“Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked.

“Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

“Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

“Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

“Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty.

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

“Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality.

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

“There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

“What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

“I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

“I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

“I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

“Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

“I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

“Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said.

“Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

“Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to.

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

“It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

“Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

“How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

“Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained.

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

“I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

“I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

“Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result.

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

“That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

“What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

“You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation.

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

“Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #platonic grid x reader #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader

571 notes · View notes

lesservillain · 3 days

Text

dream a little dream of me.

sleep demon!eddie munson x afab!reader

cw: SMUT. breeding kink, monster!eddie, readers body is “changed”(I think thats it?)

You’re tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep thanks to the ache between your legs. You already tried getting yourself off to no avail, so sleeping it off was your plan b.

You didn’t know why you’d been so horny lately. All day you’d be thinking about being taken over your work desk or in the coffee shop bathroom. Wet dreams plagued your mind every night of a beautiful man making love to you had left you with wet sheets from how hot and bothered you were getting even in your sleep.

But no matter how much you tried to satisfy yourself, it just wasn’t enough.

Just as you were about to drift off, the mattress dipping caught your attention. You lived alone, besides your cat, so you just assumed it was them joining you in the bed. That was until it continued to dip, pushing down deep indicating that whatever was on your bed was much heavier than your cat.

You froze in fear, trying to regulate your breathing to make it seem like you were still asleep. Your mind raced as you tried to think of what to do.

“I know you’re awake.”

You stopped breathing. You felt your heart pounding on your chest as you panic.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said, sounding less distorted and more like the voice of…

Slowly you turned to look behind you. Sitting on the edge of your bed was the man of your dreams. His soft eyes met yours, his smile turning toothy when you realized it was him.

Were you dreaming right now? It didn’t feel like it. Maybe you were lucid dreaming?

You didn’t have much more time to think about it as he placed a hand on your cheek. It felt as if he really were touching you, and you felt conflicted with that fact.

“I missed you, sweet girl,” he coos at you. “I hate it when you leave me.”

He leans down, stopping just short of kissing you. His eyes flash for a moment, looking almost red compared to his normal color.

When you don’t protest, he closes the gap between you, letting your lips slot together perfectly in a deep kiss. His mouth moves against yours and you reciprocate, feeling as if its the natural thing to do.

As the kiss deepens you feel his hands slowly start to roam your body. He feels you up, his hands landing on your breasts, squeezing and fondling until you hum against his lips. The man smiles against you.

He pulls away, lidded eyes stating down at you as his lips start to kiss down your jaw, your neck, between your breasts, down, down, down, until he’s positioning himself between your legs.

“Mmm such a pretty sight,” the man says, looking at your pussy with lovesick eyes. “Prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

He runs a finger through your folds, making you gasp at the sudden contact. He takes his finger to his mouth, his tongue wrapping around it to lick off your juices.

“Mmmm, like the divine nectar,” the man hums. You watch in anticipation as he brings his face closer to your pussy. His long tongue darts out again, your hands flying to his hair as he gets to work opening you up.

All of the times he’s spent with you in your dreams gave him plenty of practice to know exactly how you like it. He lets his tongue flick and rub against your clit as his fingers work diligently inside you. You feel your legs start shake as he brings you closer and closer to your peak.

Just as you feel yourself tipping over the edge, his tongue and fingers switch places. The pads of his fingers rub against your clit roughly as he sticks his long, thick tongue inside you. The muscle penetrates you deep, until you feel him hitting against your cervix.

Your vision goes white, little stars dancing behind your eyes as you cum hard on his tongue. In your blissed out state, you almost dont feel the way something is pushed deeper inside of you. It feels like a slight pinch, but almost immediately after your body feels like it’s on fire.

Whatever the man put inside you with his tongue begins to spread over the walls of your womb, coating it in a thick lining. Any arousal you had in your body was turned up to a hundred as you turn into a bitch in heat. Slick begins to pool on your bedsheets as it leaks from your pussy.

The man watches your body’s changes with delight. He licks his lips at the sight of you, his sharp teeth suddenly very noticeable to you.

“How do you feel?” He asks you, eyes still settled on your soaked cunt.

“H-hot?” You stutter, looking up at him with pinched brows. Was he always naked? Or had you not noticed his huge, hard cock until just now?

“That’s normal,” he says softly. He gently places a hand over your womb, his pointes nails grazing your skin. “How do you feel here?”

You look at his hand on your lower stomach. It’s huge when compared to the size of your body.

“Feels fine, maybe a little crampy?”

He coos down at you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“That will get better once I’m inside,” he assures you. His hand leaves your stomach to cradle your face lovingly. You lean into his touch, nuzzling against his large palm.

“What-what did you do to me?” The last word came out as a squeak as you feel the tip of his cock slid through your folds.

He leans into you, his hot breath on the bare skin of your neck as he rolls his hips. Once he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve gotten his cock, he finds your entrance and slowly begins to push it inside of you. He feels even bigger than he looks, and you start to panic as he continues to stretch you out. You grab at his broad shoulders and he shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says, “your body will sense my size and adjust accordingly. Give it just a moment.”

There’s a slight strain in his voice that wasn’t there before. You can see his brows pinching together as the head of his cock nestles against your cervix. He pauses, looking down for a moment to observe how little of him your body had yet to take.

Suddenly, you feel a tingle between your legs, and a wave of slick pushes out of you. Your body felt like a raw nerve, becoming sensitive to even the smallest shift that the man makes. You begin to squirm beneath him out of desperation, seeking any bit of friction to give you some relief.

“Oh, fuck me,” the creature moans above you, watching the way you try and fuck yourself on his cock.

“Can I move?” He whines. “I need to fuck you.”

You realize you’d been staring down at where the two of you connected. When you look up to the creature’s face, he looks just about as fucked out as you feel.

His disheveled hair falls around his horns and into his face. His mouth is slack, his long tongue hanging out between his parted lips. He’s staring right at you, waiting.

“Please.”

You realize he must not be able to move unless you give him verbal permission. So when you manage to squeak out a “yes,” the creature lets out a sigh of relief. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he gets himself situated.

He pulls out of you agonizingly slowly, before thrusting sharply back inside of you. Your legs straighten at the sensation, his cock hitting your sensitive spot with ease and sending a shock wave through your body.

Suddenly you were cumming on his cock, never feeling a sensation like that before. He continued to move, fucking you through your orgasm without slowing down.

Dark tendrils of hair clouded your vision as he brought his lips to yours again. His long tongue began to lick into your mouth, filling it until you felt it trying to breach your throat. The size and thickness of it had you sucking on it out of instinct. The creature seemed to enjoy this, moaning into your mouth in response.

It was almost too much to be so full of this monster. The haze of lust made it hard to tell where your body began and his ended. Every thrust felt like a spark of lightning through your body that traveled to your finger tips.

When the creature pulled away from you, you audibly whined at the loss, even while gasping for air. He leaned back, angling his hips in a new way that had you seeing stars. Your back arched off the bed as you began to cum again.

“Dammnit,” the gruff voice of the monster breathes out. “You’re like a vice around me.”

“Feel so good,” you say breathlessly.

“Mmm, told you I would make the pain go away.”

You couldn’t think straight, let alone understand what he was talking about. All you could think of is your monster lover and the way he was moving inside of you.

And cum.

The thought of him cumming inside you became all consuming. The need for him to breed you was overwhelming to the point where you began bucking your hips into him again in a feeble attempt at expediting the process.

“Mmm you’re getting so needy aren’t you?” The monster cooes above you. You nod loosely, head bobbing but your eyes lazily fixed on the creatures deep brown ones, pupils big and wide enough you can see your own reflection in them.

“I never did tell you what I did to you, did I?” He says, still moving at a brutal pace.

“Nuh-uh,” is all you manage to say, gasping again at a particularly sharp thrust.

You look down at where the monster and you meet. For a brief, lucid moment your eyes go wide as you see the monsters cock fully disappearing inside of you, a small bulge pressing against your abdomen with every thrust the monster makes.

“I think you can tell by now that I am not like you,” he says. “But, the only way my kind can reproduce is with humans.” His hands roam your body, almost in awe of your form as he continues to speak.

“The only problem is that your kind,” he places a hand above your womb, “are only compatible if we…make it that way.”

Your cloudy thoughts make small connections between his words and his actions. If you were in a right state of mind, you’d probably have loads of questions you wanted answered. But right now, you only had one goal.

Grabbing the monsters arms, you use all of your strength that you can muster and manage to flip him completely only his back. The confident, sure creature becomes wide eyed and blushing as he stares up at you in a state of shock.

“Wh-what are you—“

“Shhh,” you shush him. “Want you to cum. Please?”

You waste no time as you begin to bounce up and down on his hard cock. He was deeper than you could ever imagine possible, but there was no pain. If anything, you couldn’t hold yourself back from cumming again and again.

“Holy shit,” the creature says, mesmerized at the way you use him for your own pleasure.

“Name.” It doesn’t come out as a question, rather a command.

“Wh-wha-You want to know my name?” The creature stutters.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Eddie! It’s Eddie!”

“Oh, fuck, Eddiieeeeeeeee!”

That pushed the creature over the edge. His large hands grab at your hips to hold you in place. Hot ropes of thick cum begin to fill you up until you start to feel it leaking out of you.

When you can finally open your eyes, you find the creature—Eddie—tongue out and panting as he catches his breath. Before your eyes you watch as he shifts from his monstrous form back into the man you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

If everything wasn’t so real, you’d almost think you were dreaming after all. But the slow circles that Eddie was rubbing into your hips was confirmation enough that all of this was very real.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin when you land next to him in the bed.

“Hi,” you say, looking at the handsome man next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to fully face him. “I just have a lot of questions.”

thanks for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #sleep demon!eddie munson #sleep demon!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson st

774 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?”

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.

“I might,” you say.

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

554 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 2 days

Text

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: no sexual content but it's getting heated y'all, not proofread because I wrote that in my break lol

Notes: no one asked for this but I delivered it anyway hehe

Gojo Satoru

It’s hard to keep your mind focused when it’s him who’s sitting next to you. Him, with the cheekiest mouth you’ve ever witnessed. Him, who always picks on you whenever he gets the chance. Him, who makes it all too clear for everyone around him that he’s the strongest.

Because that’s who Satoru Gojo is. Unlike you, an average jujutsu sorcerer who just happened to slide into the same year as him.

“Satoru, stop teasing her”, Suguru mumbles to his right, gazer flickering over your obvious uncomfortable face.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s attention. Especially attention coming from someone who always bathes in the looks of others, who has no problem with standing in the spotlight constantly.

“I’m not teasing (y/n). I was just telling her that she looks great today. Is a man not allowed to voice his opinion around here?”, Satoru replies while pulling you in his arm and stroking your hair a little too harsh.

And despite the stinging fact that you are nothing compared against him, you can’t help but get excited when he enters the room, you can’t stop your heart from almost beating out of your chest when he touches you. Oh, it makes no sense that you fell for him. Especially you out of all girls around jujutsu high. How dumb to even dream of him liking you back someday when he’s surrounded by charismatic and jaw-dropping gorgeous women each and every day.

“(y/n) doesn’t look comfortable at all, though”, Suguru comments dryly.

Your cheeks redden instantly when both their gazes hit you with full force, eyeing you up and down until you see stars. It really shouldn’t make you this nervous to be around both of them. Why is it so damn hard for you to be the center of attention for a brief second?

“Get going Suguru, I have a mission for you. What are you doing there with (y/n)? I told you over and over again to leave that poor girl alone, dumbass.”

May the ground swallow you whole. Why is your teacher suddenly appearing as well? And most importantly: If he takes Suguru with him, does that mean…?

“I-I…should get going as well!”, you stutter while jumping up so urgently that a wave of nausea hits you.

Maybe it’s nothing but coincidence but somehow, you managed to never be alone with Satoru in a room. He must be weirded out by you already, there is absolutely no reason to risk him getting freaked out by your strange behavior around others.

“Why in such a hurry, (y/n)? Only Suguru has to go on a mission. Both of us are free today”, Satoru purrs next to you.

When his hand grabs yours and pulls you back down into your seat, there is no chance to escape. You stare blankly at your feet, sweaty palms now digging into your thighs. Without Suguru, you’re on your own. No distraction, no possibility to escape his stinging gaze and attention.

You should be excited about finally getting some time alone with your crush. After all, you laid your eyes on him even before joining jujutsu high. Being the daughter of a wealthy and usual mighty jujutsu sorcerer family meant always staying in contact with the family who inherited the honored one. When you were little, you enjoyed Satoru’s company because he never asked too much questions about you and always seemed unbothered by the stinging fact that you are weak. And surprisingly, his interest in you never wavered until this day.

You, on the other hand…

“You look like you’re sharing the room with a special grade curse. It’s just me, your best friend, the one and only Gojo Satoru! Why so nervous, (y/n)?”

Since you started to develop feelings for him like the dumbass you are, everything changed. Just the sheer thought of sharing a room with him alone sends shivers down your spine, feeling his gaze sticking onto you forces you to get all nervous and to act like an idiot.

You really are one hopeless loser.

“Actually, I’ve been waiting quite some time to finally catch you alone again. It seems like you’re avoiding that like the plague.”

Because you do. Being alone with him means risking that you’ll act all weird and maybe freaking him out forever. Even though you’ll never be with him, you don’t want to lose the connection you have with Satoru. No, you’d rather love him from afar than risking it all.

“Really?”, you mumble while staring blanky at your sweaty hands.

“We’ve been friends for so long.”

He slides closer, forces your heart to skip a beat.

“Right.”

“But two or three years ago, you started avoiding me and I wondered why.”

You swallow hard, eyes widen in sheer horror. “Right.”

“Until I realized.”

Your eyes drift towards his, meet the bright blue ocean of his uncovered orbs. Did he find out? No way, you always made sure to never let anyone know, to keep your feelings to yourself. How would he even get the idea that-

“You love me, right?”

Time stands still, you don’t dare to move a single inch. He knows. Gojo Satoru knows. But how? When? You are physically unable to ask him any of those questions. Instead, you sit next to him like his prey in desperate hope that he’ll lose interest in you if you don’t move.

“You love me, right?”

His piercing look almost kills you from the inside. No, you can’t escape him. There is no way you’ll get out of this room without answering him.

“Right”, you whimper.

“Oh thank god.”

You don’t have any time to react. Before you even realize what happens, he pulls you in and kisses you. Slowly, tenderly, soft and sweet.

Satoru Gojo.

He…kisses you?

For a second, you forget how to exist. This has to be a dream you never dared to allow, so far away from reality that you’d shake your head over the sheer thought. But the way he wraps his arm around your waist and places his hand in your nape is oh too real.

No, this isn’t a dream. Satoru is kissing you at this very moment.

“I had my eyes on you for what feels like forever. But when you stopped meeting me alone and avoiding me, I thought that I might have done something to upset you until I realized that you actually feel the same way”, he mumbles against your lips.

You can’t answer. Instead, you allow your shaky hands to rest against his broad chest. Oh, he feels just as good as you secretly imagined, his intoxicating smell tingling in your nose and making your senses go crazy.

Your lips start moving cautiously against his. In your whole life, you were never kissed, there was never a boy besides Satoru who caught your interest. And now it’s him. It’s really him who moves in synch with you, who places soft kisses against your desperate lips.

So desperate. You grab the fabric of the uniform tighter, make sure that he doesn’t escape. When you get used to the feeling of this sensation, your mouth starts moving faster on its own. You close your eyes, give in to the feeling that starts growing louder and louder inside your burning chest. All those years, you refused to even think about him. All those years, you buried your feelings six feet under. But now everything comes back to the surface. Now it seems like the control over your mind and body slips out of your fingers in the most delicate way.

Out of instinct, you grab his neck and pull him even closer. Your mouths collapse with each other over and over again, so heated that you fail to breathe. You slide onto his lap, allow your tongue to intertwine with his. Oh, you never expected this to feel so good, you never knew you were capable of feeling such a sensation.

When Satoru whimpers inside your mouth, you threaten to lose yourself completely. His hands roam around your body without an aim while you hold onto his strong arms for dear life. Unforgivingly, without any mercy, your lips crash into each other until you see stars.

“Fuck”, he breathes out.

Satoru is the first who gives up and releases his puffy lips from yours. Panting heavy, both of you stare at each other. Did this really happen? Did you really make out with Gojo Satoru like that? You, out of all people? Sheer embarrassment rushes over you like a wave. Out of instinct, you try to cover your face with your hands, to escape his strong gaze.

“No, don’t you ever hide yourself from me. Not after what we’ve just done. You are…absolutely gorgeous”, he murmurs.

“And I think I need to do that again.”

Sukuna

Your skin burns in sheer sensation where his fingertips tease you, his lips moving against your mouth oh too sweet.

What a coincidence that you met Ryomen Sukuna here at Shibuya. What a coincidence you’re now sitting on top of him while his mouth roams around yours so innocently. Soft kisses with Sukuna are something you never imagined the king of curses to enjoy. No, you imagined him rough in every minor aspect of his life, especially when it comes to his lover. Well, apparently that isn’t true. Right now, his lips brush over yours as if you’re porcelain that’s about to break, as if you are the most precious thing to ever exist.

“I don’t have that much time for you”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

“Why not?”, you pout while outlining his strong arms with your fingers.

Oh so gently, he starts placing soft kisses onto your cheek, your forehead, your ear. So tenderly that it feels like a soft breeze of warm air caressing you, so utterly peaceful that you’d never believe that this is actually him.

“I have something to do here. Who knows when I’m able to gain control over that brat again.”

His low voice vibrates through your whole body. Truth is, you missed your lover way too much to let go of him now. You haven’t seen each other for what feels like forever. Each and every night, you craved his touch, waited for the perfect opportunity to get him back. There is no way in hell you’ll let him go like that now after sharing only a few warm kisses.

You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you let your hips fall onto his provocatively, keeping his head in place while your tongue begins a play you know all too well.

Because even though the king of courses has an unexpected weak spot for slow and sweet kisses, you know exactly what drives him over the edge, what he needs to lose his mind to your mouth.

Your lips crash against his without any mercy, tongue teasing him so violently that a moan escapes the usual so composed man. A curse who never even thought about love and affection, a man destined to kill each and everyone who stands in his way.

Except you. Somehow you managed to light a fire inside him that cannot be put out without your help. Or better, your kisses.

“I missed you”, you purr between two passionate kisses.

“So so much.”

Automatically, he pulls you even closer, allows his muscular frame to collide with yours. Ryomen Sukuna melts like butter in your hands.

And you love it.

“What are you doing to me”, he mutters into your mouth.

“You want me to leave?”

You part your lips from his ever so slightly. One innocent movement, just the sheer thought of pulling away from him with an outcome you know so well.

In an instant, you feel Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you even tighter while his tongue teases you until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Who said you’re allowed to leave?”, he grumbles.

“Stay right here”, he hisses while shoving his tongue into your mouth again.

His hands grab your face when he suddenly starts slowing down his movements again.

“Please”, he adds along with a soft kiss on your forehead.

Toji Fushiguro

You are screwed. Completely fucked, lost, in big trouble.

And the man who’s responsible for all that mess is grinning right into your face.

To be honest, you heard rumors about him. A man who isn’t able to produce cursed energy, who is so unbelievably strong despite it. A bounty hunter who kills jujutsu sorcerers when it’s decently paid, nothing but a troublemaker.

And hot. God, just the way he smirks at you makes your knees go weak-

Focus, this is goddamn serious.

“Would you mind removing that blade from my friend?”, you question dryly.

Now is not the time to thirst over someone who just pierced through your comrade. Well, the honored one, to be exact.

“Why? He’s your boyfriend?”, the man bites back with his sensual low voice.

“Hell no”, you reply a little too quick and disgusted.

“But I still care about him enough to ask you this.”

The unknown force of a man tilts his head before pulling the blade out of Gojo.

“I don’t need your help, (y/n).”

“You sure about that? Let me take over.”

“You? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gojo’s stupid comment makes your blood boil almost instantly. Who does this guy even think he is? Just because he was lucky enough to get born with immense powers doesn’t mean you aren’t a decent jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Apart from the stinging fact that you are a woman.

And you’re definitely able to feel the stranger’s eyes all over you.

“Are you hard of hearing? Get lost and make sure Riko arrives at Tengen-sama’s safe”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“And missing all the fun and fighting? Hell no.”

“Being alone with ya actually doesn’t sound bad”, the stranger replies with a smirk.

“What the hell would you want from her?”

“Seems like your dumb blue eyes aren’t useful after all, brat.”

Oh, how much you try to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear like an idiot and your cheeks to blush.

“Was that a compliment?”

It doesn’t matter, though. You can’t fuck this mission up. Something about his appearance tells you more than urgently that if that man gets close to Riko…

You have to prevent this. No matter what it costs.

“Depends. Did it work?”, the stranger replies.

Fuck, you hate the way your heart almost beats out of your chest. Or…do you?

“Who knows”, you purr.

His eyes all over you, take in your appearance with so much force that you feel like fainting for a second. Is that man flirting with you?

“I’m the one you’re fighting against.”

“I’m not interested in a spoiled brat like you. Get lost.”

He makes it look so easy. Grabbing Gojo by the throat mid-air, slamming his body into multiple nearby buildings. All of this without a single spark of cursed energy. All of this only by the sheer force of his muscular arms. Fuck, those forearms…

“So, watcha say, princess? Are ya in for chilling together?”

You feel like dying and flying at the same time. That fucking man was able to send Gojo straight to heaven with one arm. There is no doubt in the fact that he’d be able to kill you without you even noticing a single thing.

You bite your lip when your eyes start wandering around his toned torso and tight black shirt. But isn’t it your mission to do everything possible in order to keep Riko save? Especially when it means getting physical with a man like him. His eyes tell you that you need to keep him entertained if you stick to your plan. What could a girl like you possibly offer a guy like him?

“Depends on your definition of chilling. I’m not staying here for nothing.”

This is a dangerous game. One wrong movement, one unwise word and you’re dead without even Gojo being able to protect you.

“First tell me what’s yours. Any hidden talents apart from that whole jujutsu stuff?”

He roams around you like a hunter around its prey, eyes getting darker and darker each time they meet your gaze. Oh, this question definitely points to places you’ve never been before, so dirty and rough that you never allowed your thoughts to travel there.

“Maybe we need to find out”, you hum.

Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Like in trance, you give the unknown man in front of you dirty looks. This is for the mission exclusively.

Right?

“I know you’re trying to distract me. But fuck that and have some fine before I kill that brat.”

You force yourself to breathe out slowly and controlled. Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Someone who’s here to kill the plasma vessel and managed to slice through Gojo like through butter isn’t someone to be messed with.

Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer. He builds himself up in front of you with his shadow hanging over you threatful.

But those lips. Those oh so kissable lips paired with that handsome face of his.

“Scared?”, he mutters while mocking down at you.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Before you’re able to convince yourself otherwise, you press your lips against his.

Almost instantly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. But apart from the rough kiss you expected, his lips caress yours in the softest way possible. Gently, he holds onto your face while embracing you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Fuck, why does this have to be so good? Why was everything you expected from that man a steamy make-out session?

Your knees threaten so fail you when every minor movement of his mouth sends shivers down your spine. This shouldn’t feel so good, you shouldn’t melt like butter in his rough hands.

But you can’t help it.

“You definitely taste good”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

Your cheeks heat up in an instant. If someone would have told you you’d end up making out with a hot stranger to stop him from killing Riko and Gojo today, you would have called them insane.

And yet, here you are. Getting showered in soft kisses and held in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Gimme more, princess.”

Slowly but surely, the urge to feel him even closer, better, faster becomes unbearable. You grab him by his hair and pull him down while your mouth picks up the pace on its own. This isn’t enough. You need to feel him better than this.

“Fuck.”

A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, hands wandering around his body without an aim. Oh, your lips never swelled up like that, never burned in such a sensation before. Fuck slow-kissing, fuck holding yourself back. Why would you ditch that opportunity when it’s clear that he wants you as well?

The stranger’s arms wrapped themselves around you tightly, leave you no room to escape. Over and over, your lips collide with each other until you feel dizzy.

“Sorry for interrupting your little make out session, but are you out of your fucking mind, (y/n)?”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You know that voice all too well.

“Huh, should have killed you right on the spot”, the stranger remarks with his dark eyes still set on you.

“What a waste of time. Wait for me here, princess. I’ll be back when I killed that brat and the vessel.”

He lets go of you as sudden as he grabbed you, leaves your body aching for his touch and your mind racing back and forth.

“You can’t kill them!”, you shout after him.

“And I don’t even know your name.”

“The name’s Toji Fushiguro, princess.”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain

@risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa

602 notes · View notes

fum1ku · 3 days

Text

TOXIC TRAITS - HQ BOYS

ft. kiyoomi sakusa, koushi sugawara, atsumu miya, daichi sawamura, tobio kageyama, kei tsukishima

tw: toxic relationship, arguments, cursing

pt. 2 where everyone kisses and makes out makes up, anyone?

KIYOOMI: silent treatment. perhaps kiyoomi’s fight or flight reaction stemmed from his inability to communicate well. but, that didn’t feel completely true. he could be blunt; honestly saying what was on his mind to anyone. but, when it came to you, he was just.. silent. you’d beg and plead, scream or shout, say anything and you wouldn’t hear a word back from him. it hurt. it tore deep into your chest; finding itself a resting spot in the pit of your stomach. would someone who truly loved you really do this to you?

KOUSHI: love bombing. sugawara really didn’t mean to. he didn’t know how much he’d ever smothered you until he heard someone actually say something about it. at first you thought it was just sweet, random acts of kindness from him. his love language shining through, at most. the expensive gifts, the rush of compliments he’d give you, the aching feeling of his arms wrapping around you for the 5th time in that moment. but, no—it was more than that. all of it was meaningless; hallow. not a second thought put into it besides his desperation to win you. to have you. he was so desperate to not let you slip away that he forgot what he had ever felt for you in the first place: love.

ATSUMU: toxic jealousy. atsumu miya had been popular with girls since high school. and of course it didn’t stop when he joined the msby jackals. if anything, he had been more popular with women now than he had been in his entire life. but, he always said it didn’t matter. he always told you “you’re all i need. no stupid fan girls can get in the way of that. i have you, and that’s all i want.” all he wants. but that all fades away after your first actual fight. who even remembers what it was about? it didn’t matter anymore. sitting in the bleachers watching your boyfriend prepare for his next match, you could see as a swarm of overzealous girls came running towards him. instead of his usual wave of acknowledgment and turning away to head for a more private area, he dove deep into the attention. he soaked up each compliment from every girl in the crowd with a sly smirk on his face. he accepted every picture he was asked to take; putting his hand around her waist, letting her kiss his cheek or feel his stupid muscles through his jersey. he did all of this knowing you had been there waiting; watching. he did all of this, not feeling a single bit of remorse up till the second he watched as hot tears streamed down your face and you ran out of the arena. shit. he had really fucked up.

DAICHI: overprotective. it was sweet daichi cared. really, it was. he’d place a firm hand around your waist when walking past guys in the street because he knew it made you feel safe. he’d have you sit a few rows back in the bleachers when watching his games “just in case”. and he’d always make sure you made it home safe after work or school. but, it soon turned into more than just those silly protective things. sometimes he made you feel like you couldn’t think or plainly act for yourself. everything had a risk to him; a risk that wasn’t worth taking with you. you tried to reason with him, but it never made sense to him in the way it did to you. he just wanted you to be safe after all, right?

TOBIO: anger issues. tobio didn’t mean to snap. it just.. well, happened. he loved you—he loves you— so much. he never wanted to see you cry; he never wanted to be the reason why you cried. but it had been a long day. practice had left him dead and dry. it had been back-to-back interviews, multiple photoshoots, and so many fucking autographs. today had taken everything out of him. as shallow as all of those things sounded, it was.. overstimulating, to say the least. kageyama couldn’t think of a better word to describe it; to name exactly what he felt. but when he came home and saw you in the kitchen; dishes stacked high, the pot on the stove bubbling over, the heat that overtook every single room in the apartment—he snapped. he lost it. you had opened your mouth to greet him and before you were able to say anything, all of the frustrations from today started pouring out of his mouth.

“fucking damnit. what the hell are you even doing, y/n? it’s a thousand fucking degrees in here with the stove on and it’s boiling over. fucking shit. i’m exhausted and i can’t even come home to have some damn peace in my own fucking house. what the actual hell?” his words burned through his throat, leaving a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue.

you said nothing as you turned the stove off, and walked straight past him.

“y/n—” he stuttered. “i’m—fuck— i’m so sorry. today was rough and i just..”

he looked down at you to see your body shaking; tears streaming down your face. he fucked up.

KEI: lack of communication. that best summed up kei’s entire life. including his life with you. one small argument and he was gone. vanished. nowhere to be found. not until you’d find him in some tucked away corner of your shared apartment. or outside the building during the evening. you could try your best to say something to him—anything—but it didn’t matter. he’d only talk to you on his own terms. but, what he was thinking? what he was feeling? that was a mystery to you. you could pour your heart out to him about how lost you felt; how much of a mystery his emotions were to you even after being together for so long. didn’t matter. he couldn’t piece together a string of words to give back to you. and that was going to be his downfall.

⁂ taglist: none at the moment ! let me know if you wanted to be tagged for anything<3 my requests are always open too !!

440 notes · View notes

fragileheartbeats · 3 days

Text

⌗ 𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘜𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘌 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 ( ♥︎ )

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

He would be incredibly sweet and gentle. A switch. He's a service dom and sub, and it would take time for him to reach that point of vulnerability, but if he trusted and loved you enough, he would let you in.

He's not very experienced, but he's a fast learner and eager to please, so I don't think there would be any problems. He's very soft-spoken, and you should be gentle with him as well. He's not into BDSM or slave play, and he's not a masochist. Stop this shit already. He would never do anything that would hurt you or himself.

I can see him being interested in bondage, though. With beautiful and expensive silk, no matter who's the one tied up. He would buy things to make your beauty stand out. He's a worshiper, and he would adore your body. But he also loves it when you worship him in return. He might even get so soft that he cries.

He's always looking into your eyes and face, trying to gauge your pleasure. He also loves your voice; honestly, he could come just by listening to your moans. He tries to keep quiet so he can listen to it.

Once he gets used to it, he opens up more and becomes more rough and bold. I think he would be fine with crossdressing. He would do it confidently, whether it's a maid's dress or a Playboy bunny costume.

He loves to tease you with his words, he's good at dirty talk. But he also wants to be praised. Please tell him he's doing good.

He has an oral fixation and loves to have his mouth on your body. It doesn't matter where—lips, hips, hands, fingers, breasts, or pussy. Anything goes.

Breeding kink goes hard. This man loves to cum inside and he really wants to get you pregnant. He wants to have a family of his own that he can love and be loved by.

The way he do it is intimate and sensual. He takes his time, savoring every moment. He wants to make sure you're enjoying yourself as much as he is. He's very attentive to your needs, and he'll always ask for your consent before doing anything.

He's a true romantic, and he loves to cuddle and spoon after. He'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear and tell you how much he loves you. Being with him is like living in a fairy tale. He makes you feel like the most beautiful and cherished woman in the world.

"You're so beautiful... I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you."

"I just want to hold you close and never let go."

"You mean everything to me... I hope you know that."

"I love you... more than anything in this world."

"Thank you for being here with me... for loving me."

"You drive me crazy... I can't get enough of you."

"I need you... I need this... right now."

"You're mine... all mine. And I'm never letting go."

"I want to lose myself in you... to forget everything but us."

"Don't hold back... show me how much you want this."

"You're so adorable when you blush... it drives me wild."

"I bet I can make you scream my name louder than you ever have before."

"Let's try something new... something adventurous. Are you up for it?"

"I love seeing you like this... so uninhibited, so free."

"You're my favorite game... and I always play to win."

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#hsr x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #aventurine headcanons #star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine smut #aventurine x fem!reader #hsr x female reader #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #honkai: star rail x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader

447 notes · View notes

werecreature-addicted · 1 day

Note

Ok, imagine this, werewolf is in love with his neighbor, a human girl, everything would be fine if it weren't for the fact that the girl is a single mother of a little boy, and I'm not saying this because it's a bad thing for a woman to be a single mother, I'm saying this because of their neighbors, the other human neighbors have the mistaken idea that werewolves are cruel to other men's children, even propagating the absurd idea that werewolves kill the children of other males when they are interested in the mother. Of course our werewolf would never do that, werewolves would never harm a woman's offspring, so he has to be very careful and almost transparent to be able to woo the girl without her thinking that he is a danger to her or his little son

he meets your child first. he's just trying to carry in groceries, all of them in one trip of course, when he hears a small "can I help?" he looks down and sees a human pup with big wide eyes and a missing front tooth. He'd known that knew people had moved in next door a little while ago but he didn't know they came with a kid.

"Sure," he says and hands the kid one bag to carry as they trek up the driveway. it's a short walk and he can easily do it himself, but the werewolf thinks the boy is cute, so young yet already helpful and determined to prove his strength. what a good pack leader he would be one day. the kid drops the bag by his door and then runs back to his yard to play. The werewolf had never paid much attention to his next-door neighbors but he would start now.

He meets you a few days later and wow. he's never met a human so pretty. you seem nervous, a little frazzled from the recent move, but sweet. he tells you about your son helping him with the groceries and offers to help you any time you need anything, just looking for an excuse to see you again.

And you do need his help a lot around the house. it's hard trying to do everything yourself especially when you're raising a little boy. Luckily your neighbor is always there whether it's to replace some shingles on your roof or just play with your son for a little so you can get five minutes to yourself. you won't lie, you do pick specific favors to ask of him. sure you could do your own yard work, but there's just something so sexy about a sweaty hard-working werewolf.

He's so sweet he almost instantly becomes a part of your life. You can tell he's interested in you, you're not an idiot, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like him too. It's flattering to have someone clearly so into you even knowing you have a child.

You spend of late nights confiding in him and before you know it you start to think you're falling for him. then you happen to mention your blooming romance to one of your coworkers and they inform you, horrified, that if a werewolf is interested in a woman with a child they're known to kill the child so the mother can focus on raising the werewolf pups. The story chills you, you'd heard similar things about lions in the wild, and maybe it was true for all preditors.

you can't help but spiral a little bit, you've been leaving your baby alone with a hungry wolf. but... somehow you don't believe it. He had never shown himself to be violent or even anything but loving towards your son. and you knew he was closer to human than some wild animal. he wouldn't really do something like that, would he?

When you get home you're a little jumpy around your neighbor, which he notices. you don't let your son go over to his yard to play and you don't invite him over for dinner, which is odd, to say the least. but he doesn't push. You feel stupid, avoiding him like this, why should you be scared of someone who'd been nothing but kind?

you go out onto your porch that night and see him out looking up at the stars. when he hears you he waves you over.

"it's a pretty night," you comment sitting beside him, awkwardly.

"prettier with you here," he teases, you feel your face go hot and you have to look away, he laughs at your embarrassment. you're quiet for a long time before you finally bring up what was on your mind.

you don't come out and say "Hey are you going to murder my child to get closer to me?" but instead you ask him:

"you flirt with me a lot, but does it ever bother you that I have a child? does that make you hesitate to have a real relationship?" it's still blunt but it's not quite as accusatory.

"I've always wanted kids, I love your son, I'm not going to run because of it, I want you and you having a son doesn't change that," he assures you. A few months later you'll admit exactly what your coworker said, he was horrified you ever thought he'd be capable of hurting the boy he views as his son, and he tells you in no uncertain terms that he would die to protect the both of you. no harm is coming to either of you while he's here to protect his family.

#monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #werewolf x reader #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

424 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 day

Note

I would love to see Derek with a super confident sunshine gf but May be she gets super shy and flustered when he compliments her or makes a dirty joke and just like the first time it happens and Derek is so taken aback by her shyness bc he's used to her being chatty and confident

“Hi, Dr. Reid.”

Derek knows it’s gonna be a good day when you come in already flirting.

“Hi,” Spencer says. “Want a bagel?”

“Thanks, handsome, but I already had breakfast.” Derek leans back in his chair to watch you, and you see his moving, turning your attention to him with an equally brilliant smile. “Hi, Agent Morgan.”

“You can call me Derek, baby.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you say lightly. You pull your pea coat tighter against yourself and give a breath. “Is it cold in here today, or is it just me?”

“There’s a problem with the radiators,” Spencer says. “They sent out an email this morning to dress warmly. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow, apparently.”

“Oh. I didn’t see. I don’t think I’m dressed for the cold,” you say, looking down at your short heels. “I would’ve worn sneakers like you, Spence.”

“I brought some extra socks?” Spencer says.

“Well, keep me a pair in case I need them?” you ask.

“Sweetheart, if it’s warming up you need, you come straight to me,” Derek says, his tone warm as his promise, “I’ll find a way to keep you comfortable, that’s on my life, don’t waste your time with anybody else.”

He doesn’t mean it to sound so heavily sexual, but he absolutely did mean for it to be an innuendo. Regardless, he isn’t expecting this —you look straight to Spencer like you want to check he’s heard it, and you fluster hard, fisting the strap of your purse where it’s snug over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Okay,” you say shyly, nodding, looking at the space to the left of Derek’s shoulder. “Won’t waste my time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve always been sweet like that, your sunny disposition drew him to you like a moth to a flame, and yet Derek can’t recall ever having made you fluster so quickly, and so visibly.

Derek suspects he’d find neck hot under his hand with a flush if he touched it. laughs loudly, pen in his hands wagging up and down as he fights the urge to say anything else and prolong your agony.

You give a soft laugh, flustered, embarrassed and breathless, tapping his ankle with your shoe. “That was a bit mean.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, sorry Spencer has to be here to see it, “I was kidding.”

“I know!” You also give Spencer a sorry look.

Spencer, while sometimes slow to pick up subtle social cues, thankfully gets the idea and stands up from his chair. Derek follows suit, though he doesn’t scarper for the kitchen.

“That caught me off guard,” you say, laughing again as he offers his arms to you.

“What happened?” He tugs you forward. You tuck your arms behind his neck to kiss his jaw, the morning hello.

“You said it like you were bossing me around!” you defend yourself.

“And you liked that?”

“Stop, stop,” you laugh. “I wasn’t expecting it. You never boss me around. You’re nicer than anybody gives you credit for.”

“You think so?” he asks, still teasing, but also vaguely smug. To get to hug you in the office, arms on your waist, prettiest face ever made, Derek can’t help himself. “I really will keep you warm. I’ll get you a heater.”

“You’re my heater.”

“I’m hot-blooded.”

You part ways with mutual reluctance. “You’re something, Derek.”

He enjoys making you laugh, and the shy tilt of your head as you’d recovered, but he’s much happier when you’re bundled up at your desk with a hot cup of coffee and his promised space heater plugged in at your feet, chatting across the way to him about what you want to do this weekend if he doesn’t get called away.

“Maybe we can buy a couple of DVD’s and you can warm me up all weekend,” you suggest, an attempt to pretend you aren’t bothered by his comment anymore, that it had been a momentary lapse in judgement.

Derek’s content to give you anything you ask for. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

313 notes · View notes

tetsvya · 20 hours

Text

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader

353 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 1 day

Note

patrick doing something that really pissed off art, like really pisses him off, and instead of apologising he just give you to him, patrick’s pretty girlfriend. patrick watched as art blows you from behind, grunting and groaning like an animal. patrick gave you a talk before, and just like you were told, all you whimper is “sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry art,” over and over with every brutal thrust and every squelch of your wet pussy. arts rough, and he’s mean but he’s still art. pulls your hair back yes, but presses slobbery kisses to your neck. barks commands at you, like “shut up” or “stop moving”, yes, but then can’t help himself praising you, “so pretty” “so tight” “so warm”. and patrick watches everything with a smug smile on his face. god i just need art to just be so mean to me and make me cry and make it better and make me beg and beg for me and i can’t take this anymore

mean art save me save me mean art..... i imagine in this situation art doesn't actually know you that well. you're almost an extension of patrick in a way, patricks girl, patricks plaything. its the most disrespectful he's ever been - given that he has the permission to be. he can't find it in himself to throw his anger out at patrick how he wants, he can't punch him, pound his face into the ground until his knuckles are bloody because thats not art. hes not a violent person. hes not. but all that anger and resentment has to go somewhere, its like a poison, the way it eats at him. and patrick knows, knows if he doesn't offer something - concede something his relationship with art will crumble. and he cant have that. its fucked in a way, the way its not even something he has to think about for long at all - they get into an argument and art has turned on his heel, already cold, already icing patrick out and patrick is quick to grab his wrist, tug him back. "hold on - "

it should be horrible the way your boyfriend offers you up on a silver platter like you're a piece of meat. it should anger and humiliate you to be used as a bargaining chip between them to maintain peace, your body like a vessel that will exorcize their demons towards one another. patrick cant just say sorry, he cant say those words, he cant be vulnerable like that, open himself up to art for the fear of art breaking his heart.

and everyone thinks art is a lovely guy. and he is. most of the time, to most people. especially to women. his grandma raised him. he grew up catholic. you always treat a lady with respect.

unless that lady is patrick zweigs girlfriend.

he shouldn't accept but he does. the promise is too appealing. staking claim over a tree patrick has pissed all over. putting his mark there. so when patrick offers you up, art only pretends to be disturbed when he storms off. its the principle of the thing, he has to act affronted for his own moral compass. he texts patrick later. "fine."

for all you should be up in arms and upset you're not. that's your own fucked up dilemma. loving being the center of attention between two opposing forces. loving the idea of patrick giving you over and expecting you to put your pussy to work to his satisfaction - endure his closest confidants aggression to show how good you are. to show how much you can take - patrick likes you dirty he likes you bad he likes you arching your back and moaning for his best friend to fuck you harder while he watches, because he fucking asked you to.

patrick cant say sorry - but you can. with the tight glove of your wet cunt - with the warbled whines punched out of your throat with every thrust inside your body - "hes sorry, so sorry, sorry, sorry art - oh god - take him back, please, oh-" and you feel the way art winds a fist in your hair, yanks your body till its bending back to meet his hard chest as he pounds and pounds and pounds.

"not there yet," he grunts, and he shoves you back down, you press your tits to the mattress, make eye contact with patrick as you spread your thighs wider and accept every plunge - "tell your girlfriend if she wants me to forgive you she needs to squeeze my dick harder."

patrick licks his lips, eyes dark. you know hes turned on by this. you want to taste the evidence of it in your mouth, filling your throat but this isn't about patrick getting off. its about art. so he tells you, "hug his cock with your pussy, baby, you know how. just how i taught you."

your eyes roll back as you obey, obey, obey. bearing down on the cock thrusting in and out and gripping at it with your muscles as tight as you can - art groans long and hard behind you, nails digging into the fat of your waist. rolls his hips into yours, "fuck, that's good. good fucking girl - keep doing that -"

he hunches behind you, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "you need to respect yourself more," he pants, biting your lobe and pulling it between his teeth, "but not until i cum."

#ask #frens <3 #fixing their friendship for them w your pussy <33333 #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut

276 notes · View notes

ilytoru · 11 hours

Text

¡! cw: nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't do this chat), fingering, cunnilingus, breeding kink, big dick toji

firefighter!toji who you first meet when your cat finds himself stuck in a tree, yowling like he's just been neutered he has so you take it upon yourself to call the fire department about the little issue.

firefighter!toji who you meet when the operator assures you that everything will be fine and they're sending someone out to help.

firefighter!toji who you lay eyes on and your jaw practically hits the floor. you're admiring him; dark green eyes and impossibly darker hair. wide shoulders and muscles badly concealed by his uniform. a scar sits on his lips and coupled with the cocky smirk that seems to be stuck on his face - he's a force to be reckoned with.

firefighter!toji who's literally eating you with his eyes, and you feel so oddly naked under his gaze. you're gorgeous - he's guessing you've been out because you're all dolled up with your hair loose. your lips are lined and glossed to perfection - berry red and kissable. the outfit you're wearing does you justice, he thinks.

firefighter!toji who introduces himself and receives your name in return. he rolls it from his lips all too easily.

firefighter!toji who finds it adorable how worried you are when you direct him to your stupid pet, lips pulled into a small frown with your eyebrows furrowed.

firefighter!toji who takes no less than five minutes to wrangle your kitten out of the tree and safely into your arms. the blue-eyed, white-furred creature is purring like he didn't just give you the fright of a lifetime.

firefighter!toji who does not get along with satoru (the cat) at all. there's something about toji that seems to trigger satoru's fight or flight instincts.

firefighter!toji who becomes strangely parched when you thank him with a smile; doe eyes making his dick twitch just a bit.

firefighter!toji who can't seem to get you out of his mind after your first meeting. you're pretty and sweet like candyfloss. he asks some of his co-workers about you but all they know is that you're new to the neighbourhood.

firefighter!toji who definitely does not get hard when he thinks about your pouty lips and doe eyes. or your voice. not at all.

firefighter!toji who you meet for the second time when you find yourself in the same situation. satoru's up in a tree again, yowling like his life depends on it. you're starting to think he goes up there just to get attention.

firefighter!toji who's flashing you a grin when you wave, realizing it was the same firefighter as last time. you're slightly more comfortable in his presence the second time around and he finds your little rant about satoru adorable. he doesn't say a word as you drawl on and on about the trouble your kitten keeps getting in.

firefighter!toji who playfully slaps your ass with the promise to save your cat again as he goes to get the ladder. you're gobsmacked - you're pretty sure satoru has stopped howling and looks as offended as you.

firefighter!toji who you notice is a head, if not heads above you when he stands to his full height. you knew he was built from the first time you saw him, but you're drooling over his abs in that compression shirt.

firefighter!toji who hands satoru to you, grinning. you're smiling again - all gorgeous and unaware.

firefighter!toji who's surprised when you invite him in for tea as a thank you. he's surprised further at how quick he's agreeing and how weirdly natural it feels to watch you make the tea in the kitchen like a wife. (he is also staring at your ass).

firefighter!toji who ignores satoru's scratching at his leg and constant hissing.

firefighter!toji who finds you really easy to talk to. you have a tendency to ramble that he finds quite cute. he's sure about 70% of the time spent in your house that day was spent listening to you talk. not that it bothers him.

firefighter!toji who knows you can feel the palpable tension in the room. you're fidgeting in your seat.

firefighter!toji makes a joke that he wasn't going to fuck you just yet, but it makes your face heat up. you're saying that that'd be unprofessional of him anyway but he doesn't seem to give a fuck.

firefighter!toji who presses a kiss to the crown of your head when he leaves your house that day.

firefighter!toji who is pretty sure your voice fondles his balls with some magical forces because there's no way he can be this hard from just being around you.

firefighter!toji who you bump into a few times around the neighbourhood. he's ever the gentleman, offering to hold your bags and walk you home. even your friends have noticed the building tension between you. they're always pestering you and asking for details.

firefighter!toji who takes you on multiple dates, most of them places you want to visit. he doesn't care where the date is as long as he can see you smile.

firefighter!toji who becomes the object of your concern when your friend messages you saying a fire broke out in one of the houses near yours.

firefighter!toji who is busy rescuing the people in the burning building when he notices you in the onlooking crowd. you're not filming like most of them are - but you look overly anxious, nose scrunched in the way he loves.

firefighter!toji who sees the fear seep out of you when you see him; relief flooding your veins. fuck. you were so cute it drove him mad.

firefighter!toji who's making a beeline for you as soon as the fire's out. he tells his colleagues that he's got something important to do, but they all know he really means someone.

firefighter!toji who is bombarded with questions as soon as he finds you - your face is etched in worry. he kisses the questions off your lips and snickers when you turn pink.

firefighter!toji who snorts when you yelp as he throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he pats your rear and tells you to stop moving.

firefighter!toji who has you thrown on the bed before you have a chance to blink. he's asking you if this is what you want; signature cocky smirk on his lips when you shyly nod your head. he's immediately tugging your shirt off, large hands pulling you snug in his lap.

firefighter!toji who lets out the most guttural moan when you experimentally roll your hips, purposefully brushing against his dick. he curses to himself when you smile triumphantly, satisfied with the reaction.

firefighter!toji who's accusing you, saying it's your fault for looking so pretty and cute all the time. he's mean - blaming you for riling him up when you knew the effect it was having on him. he's quite proud of himself, pretending he doesn't want you like he didn't fuck his fist to the thought of you like a week ago.

firefighter!toji who's kissing you like he doesn't need air - harsh and possessive. his fingers are busy mapping your body and committing every nook and cranny to memory.

firefighter!toji whose digits are so thick that you mistake them for his dick for about thirty seconds before he starts curling them to hit your g-spot.

firefighter!toji who only gives you that relief for a second before he completely avoids your sweet spot. he likes the way you look when you're frustrated and begging.

firefighter!toji who's enthralled by the way you moan with your thighs shaking. he's so painfully hard that his imprint is visible. your wet lashes and doe eyes are doing absolutely nothing but making his cock twitch. his jaw is clenched as he counts about three strings of restraint left.

firefighter!toji who stretches you open nice and slow, enjoying the look on your face and the way your hips are desperately chasing release.

firefighter!toji who you find has a habit of using pet names, the words "love", "doll" and "babygirl" rolling off his tongue far more often than not.

firefighter!toji who's eating you out like a starved man; your hands tangled in his dark hair. his jaw works continuously, he shows no signs of tiring and if anything, the more he laps at you the more driven he gets. with a particularly strong pull from you he draws back, his chin glossed, telling you sternly that you pulled too hard. (lie)

firefighter!toji who watches your face twist in guilt from between your thighs while you mumble a sincere apology. he laughs, "was only kiddin’, doll." and presses a wet kiss to your clit when you pout.

firefighter!toji who's in love with the little noises you make and the weak attempts to muffle your moans. it's kind of a turn on, despite how much he wants to hear you scream.

firefighter!toji who's smirking when you're saying it's okay for him to go rough on you. you can take it, allegedly. he's sucking hickeys into your neck - the red blotches making you look prettier in his eyes.

firefighter!toji who sinks into you slowly, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you're leaning into him with your nails digging into his back. he's pretty sure there'll be marks there tomorrow.

firefighter!toji whose pace is fast and brutal, balls slamming against your ass and hands gripping your waist with bruising force. he's not giving you time to breathe. not that you need it, you're too busy entangling your tongues together in the messiest kiss of your life.

firefighter!toji who discovers he has a breeding kink when your legs lock him in place, face heated. he's asking you if you're sure and you're informing him of your implant through soft whines. he can't hear you over the beating of his heart in his ears, the image of you all swollen up plucking strings he didn't even know he had.

firefighter!toji who makes the room smell of sex and sweat. his lips are practically attached to the juncture of your neck while he fucks into you, nipping and biting through groans of his own. you're letting him do as he pleases - too consumed in your own pleasure to think about anything else.

firefighter!toji who's driven to the edge by the sound you make when you climax, strong tug on his dark locks when you cream on his cock. your cunt tightens around him and that's the end of him. he squeezes you tighter with curses spilling from his lips as he finishes inside.

firefighter!toji who pushes in what leaks out of you with his thumb as if hypnotized. already, your pussy is eagerly sucking his thumb in and he gives you a grin, "round two, baby?"

#‘✎ zariri.#hahahaha...#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

235 notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 2 days

Text

In Limbo [Chapter 6]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

no good deed ever goes unpunished

cw: minor depictions of violence, shady activities, non-con touching/groping, non-con kissing, a lot of hurt, no comfort, playfully shitting on people from Birmingham.

wc: 5k

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right; a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night.

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth, either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to the club like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall.

Shady activities in an alleyway.

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit.

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body that’s ingrained in his mind. Your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit — too overwhelmed to keep conscious. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps Mrs. Price is to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done.

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he could only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you was obvious. Short words, awkward exchanges, yet the impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you were trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door so he couldn’t follow you home.

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands — as promised — you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you had now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he didn’t look at you while you did it. He would ask you questions and you would respond with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke.

I’m just… glad you’re not doing it just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that.

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny quips.

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes — one which still carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone — and pushes the thoughts of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give.

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” Simon playfully retorts.

“Right,” he replies, rubbing his hands together, “so I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothin’ on the media or anythin’ like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.”

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?”

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a smirk. “Come on, Riley, when have I ever wasted your time?”

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to wind and rewind through footage from a few days ago. Everything happens fast; speedy bodies darting across view, and the comedic speed up of light snow falling on the ground, but not sticking. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps, before it suddenly pauses again.

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through this video again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…”

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before.

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s when Johnny pauses the video.

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shovin’ cash into his pocket like he struck a deal,” he concludes.

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character.

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters.

“He outta. Fucker works here,” Johnny drops.

A rancid, sour taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense to the point the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught on to the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago.

“Who is he?” Simon demands.

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Only twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.”

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts.

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some more dark than others.”

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it.

“He here tonight?” he then asks.

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head at Simon. “You’re brewing something up in that head of yours. None of it looks too cheerful.”

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes.

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit.

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny spins in his chair to watch him leave. All he can make out are straight set shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood.

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him, his voice too saccharine to truly mean it.

There are very rare times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through John’s club. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder, and the mass of pulsing bodies splits for him like the Red Sea.

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the other night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him.

“Marcel!”

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music, and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. Smart kid. Everyone knows not to mess with Riley.

He leads the boy out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly questions anything besides an is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Frigid wind attempts to cut through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on Marcel. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security.

A flickering security light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of the winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until he realizes it was only a pack of cigarettes he was searching for, and not something nefarious.

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel.

“You smoke?” he asks.

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers.

Simon shakes the pack, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips.

“Cheers.”

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smoothed face kid. Besides, he’s got a Brummie accent, and Simon fucking hates Birmingham.

“What d’ya do outside of workin’ here?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation — but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette.

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies.

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.”

“Smart.”

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter, the boy can warm up soon enough — Simon intends for this interaction to be quick.

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?”

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel’s lips. There’s no exhale of smoke, or the embers brightening at the tip to show he’s inhaling; there’s nothing.

“Bloke?” he repeats.

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient.

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing.

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.”

“And what did he want?” Simon presses.

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly.

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s from the cold biting his skin, or the rage boiling through his veins. “What did she look like?”

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant, but I don’t know which one, I swear.”

Sapori. Teeth nearly cut through the filter of the cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches, and he rips the thing out of his mouth to toss it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man — this Andrei — is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what else has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly.

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering.

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues.

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? Like when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel answers.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that and sent me on my way.”

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach as the chips he ate before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the raging storm barreling straight for him.

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads.

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth.

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him, and he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound.

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out, ya hear?”

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods.

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here again askin’ about it, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod,” Simon continues, and Marcel complies. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?”

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head.

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…”

“Good, and don’t fuckin’ forget that.”

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter — a shitty attempt at an apology.

“Take a breather, then get back to work,” he orders while he turns to leave, but Simon only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel as his attention is quickly brought back to the boy. “Keep in mind, that’s not even half of what I’ve got.”

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his late father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too.

Violent, angry, sinister — his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to fight against. A stereotype he’s been trying to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage.

Something he can use to help you.

Except while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of Cat’s Cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from.

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your payment days because you don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There’s something you’re still missing.

But you’ve run out of time.

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver even though you’re already shaking. Marco's cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone — but you’ve learned that you’re never safe, not even when all the cameras in the city are trained on you.

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands.

“Long time, no see,” he greets.

He’s friendlier than he normally is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap up into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it.

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other night,” Marco then prompts.

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?”

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. Face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.”

Images of Andrei’s face from the other night sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone able to put him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. You never do.

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At that club?” Marco then asks.

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully.

“You a delivery driver now? Thought you were a waitress,” he digs.

“Hostess…” you correct.

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you lie.

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer, and you try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.”

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric.

“You know him?” you venture to ask.

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.”

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away, like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process.

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? The man who fought with Andrei?” Marco asks.

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thigh as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist.

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us. Thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside the VIP entrance during that time. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together.

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply.

Something in you wants to press him for an explanation of what he means, but you keep your lips sealed as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed — nothing but faint scars and scabs. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon.

“Well, it doesn't matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, pet,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mothers phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?”

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal to you. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. In fact, you had planned to be hurt in some type of way. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail, and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure if you even accomplished that much.

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree.

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month.”

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision when you open your eyes. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t. You can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.”

You’re crying now, and you hate it. Hate how weak and pathetic you are. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face — he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere, but his eyes are too hungry for it to be real.

“Look at you,” he shushes. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as his arm keeps steady and firm around your shoulders.“Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.”

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself. Never really belonged to anyone or anything but him.

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes ten times louder — the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but he only pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake.

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you now, too afraid to fight back.

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. Using his thumb, he wipes a stray tear from your face, and you can tell by his slick snicker that he savors the feeling.

“For that, we’ll drop it down to three fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips — something chaste and quick — before he releases you and stands to his feet. “See you next month, pet.”

Marco leaves just how he arrived — with a gust of bitter, frigid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything, that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless as the day you were when you first got yourself stuck in this mess.

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin and look up at the source of the sound. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she’s holding the boy's hand to lead him out of the laundromat. There’s a look of disgust on her face, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure.

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes after she leaves, wiping your face clean before you brave the cold streets of London to make your way back home. You promise yourself that once you get home, you’ll wash your mouth out with soap, and then call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift for tonight.

No matter what, you can’t take Marco’s offer — that terrible promise he made you all those years ago. Maybe one day you won’t have a choice, but for now, you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

224 notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 18 hours

Text

to be popular: park jongseong

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 2.3k

synopsis: when all you want is to be in the spotlight along with your best friend and he helps you out.

genre: childhood friends!, popular!jay, friends to ?, smut.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, fingering.

a/n: had this in my drafts for awhile and finally decided to finish it up! enjoy it! ~

“Do you think he would though?”

All Jay could do was lock eyes with you at your question. This was normal for the two of you at parties.

“YN…” He sighs, lifting the beer can to his lips, “You know how I feel about this.”

You pouted at your best friend, clenching the empty beer can in your hand, and hearing the crack of the tin above the music.

You wouldn’t call yourself a loser, but you weren’t exactly below a loser or even more than a loser. You were just normal. Completely and simply normal. Jay though? Has been the most popular guy since kindergarten.

The two of you grew up together as neighbors, both being the only children in your families, it was only natural you both grew attached to each other. Jay was popular from the moment you both started school. And as the years went on it only got worse. As a child, you figured your popularity would come along with being best friends with Jay, mostly since homeboy was the captain on every sports team he played on and was even top of your class as well. Not to mention he was the head guitar player for the school's band growing up as well. Jay had multiple reasons under his belt for being popular. But you were always in his shadow. The most people knew of you was that you lived next door to him and were one of his best friends. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And it infuriated you.

Nothing you did put you in the spotlight. People barely remembered your name or who you were until you were standing right next to him. At first, you thought it was just kids being mean, but as the years went on, you slowly learned that maybe it was just you. Someone who was forgettable.

Jay always got pissed off with you anytime you would mention how forgettable you were, “You’re literally my BEST FRIEND, YN!” he’d snapped at you, “You’re everything but forgettable.”

Sure, you had some boys knocking on your door for attention, and you’d give them it. But your popularity never went anywhere. It’s not like you even wanted the popularity for the attention really, you just wanted to feel like an equal with Jay. To have everyone remember your name and who you were. To not be well…barely above a loser.

“Jay,” you turned your body fully towards him, lifting your knee to your chest and taking a hold of the burnt orange colored couch with your free hand, “It’s a yes or no question!”

Jay chugged down the rest of his beer and shifted his eyes from you over to Heeseung, the guy you are basically begging him to answer on if he’d be down to fuck you. Heeseung was a friend of Jay’s and also one of the most popular guys at your college. Heeseung has a reputation for fucking any girl who comes his way. Jay knew it was only a matter of time before you resorted to trying to get Heeseung to spread your legs.

Heeseung was probably six or seven drinks in at this party and was currently getting touchy with another girl in the kitchen. Eyes completely locked on her.

Jay looked back at you with a slight smirk, “He looks busy.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I'm asking.”

Jay looked down at the coffee table in front of him, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Why did this matter so much to you? Chasing after popular guys at the college just to get your name out there. Jay never understood why you wanted this popularity. If anything, Jay wished he was in your position. To be normal and not have multiple females at every party he attends jumping his bones.

And quite frankly, Jay was tired of having this conversation with you.

“I’m not answering this,” he said with a wave of his hand, “You know I don’t like the idea of you throwing yourself at random guys just for attention.”

You tossed the empty beer can on the table and clenched your fist, starting to get up from the couch, “Fuck you then, if you feel that way. I'll try to seduce him myself.” This is how every conversation about this topic goes with Jay. Him always shutting you down. But you've had enough of it.

And apparently, so did Jay.

Because you were down flat on your back on the couch with him hovering over you.

“J-Jay,” you glanced your eyes around the room, “W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you, taking your arms and pinning them above your head, his lips now attached to your neck. Your body reacted in a way you weren’t expecting it to. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access to you. Your heart rate increased, and the thoughts not circulating in your brain scared you.

“Jay,” you called his name again, shifting yourself as best as you could away from his lips.

One of his hands left your wrist and took your jaw between his fingers, “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Jay hovered his lips above yours, barely brushing them together and sliding his free hand down to the button of your jeans, “To be fucked like a slut publicly. All to be popular.”

He was angry. Frustrated. Pissed at every man in this room that you’ve tried to pull into bed with you. Pissed at you. This was the only way he knew to not only set you straight but also get his feelings out of the way.

He pressed his lips to yours in the same motion of unbuttoning your jeans, his cold fingers slipping down your panties and rubbing at your folds, humming against your lips, “Already so wet? Just from me barely touching you?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, lifting yourself to connect your lips back together. Jay’s cock twitched at your sudden action and pushed two fingers into your cunt, groaning at how perfectly you clenched around him. How perfectly you feel.

It amazed him how unfazed you were right now. Jay was sure you’d push him off or snap at him for even making a move on you. The two of you were best friends after all, and never once crossed this line until well, now. Jay could blame it on the alcohol he’s consumed. Could even blame it on all that you’ve had to drink as well.

But it was all further from the truth.

Jay pushed his fingers in you faster and parted your lips with his tongue, wrapping the muscle around yours. He was getting so drunk off your taste. Was so turned on over the fact you’re letting him do this to you in the middle of a public college party. You surprised yourself. Your whole plan was just to get Heeseung to make out with you in front of everyone and then drag him off into an empty bedroom or even the bathroom. The last thing you expected was your best friend to be knuckled deep in your pussy and his tongue down your throat.

And by god with the way he was working his fingers in and out of you, you knew your orgasm was fast approaching. As if he already knew how to work your body before even touching you.

The truth…he’s only ever dreamed of how it would feel to do something like this with you. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and looped them at your jeans and pushed them down and leaving your mouth, “You’ve made your rounds asking every single fuck boy possible,” he scoffed, flying his hands to undo his belt, jeans button and zipper, “To fuck you like a slut all for popularity.” The truth…the truth the truth the truth, “Asked everyone but me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, a new feeling sinking into your heart. He sounded angry, his face showed hints of jealousy as his eyes pierced into you and his hands worked at shoving his pants and boxers down past his hips, setting his cock free.

It surprised you how willingly Jay was to do this. How he didn’t seem to care that he was about to fuck you on a couch in the middle of some random party with everyone around to witness it. But it’s what you wanted, right?

Jay lined his tip to your entrance and wasted no time pushing himself in, flinging his head back when it kissed your cervix, “Fuck, YN,” he hissed, taking your wrists back in his hands to pin against the leather of the couch. Jay was already seeing stars at how perfectly you felt wrapped around him. How good you felt. Like your cunt was made for him and him only.

He fucked into you hard, keeping his face tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck. You tried to keep your moans down, eyes wandering the living room to see if anyone was watching.

“Why are you so nervous now, baby?” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you harder, “You wanted this,” You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your calm to focus on that pain instead of the pleasure he was giving you down south, “Everyone fucks at parties. Moan for me, YN. Let everyone see how good I’m giving it to you.”

He bit down into your neck and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your lips parted and a loud wet moan escaped. Jay smirked at the sound, darting his eyes over to Heeseung and loving the way his friend's jaw was dropped and eyes locked onto the two of you.

“See that, baby?” he cooed, “All eyes are on you now,” you barely tilted your head to the side, seeing Heeseung and the female at his side both staring at you and Jay. Seeing the eyes of random partygoers staring as they walked past the living with their eyes wide. Heeseung finally closed his mouth and tucked his lips between his teeth, making Jay spiral, “See, now he fucking wants you,” you looked back at Jay, seeing the fire burning within him, “No one is allowed to have you, understand?”

He slid his hands down to your hips, squeezing them tightly as he fucked into you faster and harder, forcing more moans to leave your lips.

“Asked everyone but me to fucked you,” he scoffed, “Never once did you think to ask me. Would have done it with no second thoughts.” The truth the truth the truth, “I’ve dreamed of having you underneath me like this, wrapped around my cock so perfectly. I’ve been so in love with you since we were kids. Kids, YN.” his anger burned hotter as he unleashed all his emotions, “Never gave a fuck how unpopular you were. Never cared that no one knew who you were because I wanted you all to myself,” he pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his lips to yours as he moans out from the pleasure, “But you? You just wanted to be popular.”

You pulled your wrists from his hands and tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him down to you to connect your lips together and wrapping your legs over his hips, “I only care about you right now, Seongie. Who cares about being popular.”

Your words had his heart doing flips. He finally got to you after so long. He smiled and looked back at Heeseung, feeling even more excited knowing Heeseung was still very much watching. It only pushed Jay to fuck into you faster. Harder. To kiss you harder. To bite your lip and pull and squeeze your hips harder to force you to arch your back at his every touch and pull. He loved knowing that another man was getting hard just by watching him fuck you. Loved seeing said man thirst for you knowing he wouldn’t be able to have you.

You belonged to him. Always had. And always would. Because Jay isn’t letting you go after this.

He kissed down your jaw and to your neck, “I’m fixing to cum, my love,” he whispered, placing opened-mouthed kisses to your skin, feeling the way you clench around him, “And I know you’re at your limit too.”

You nodded, tanging your fingers more into his dark hair and pulling slightly, “I want to cum with you.”

He chuckled, sliding one hand to your thigh and the other cupping your face, “All you had to do was ask,” and he pressed his lips to yours, moaning into your mouth as he gave one final thrust and squeezed the plush of your thigh. You both were filled with so much ecstasy as you came together. Breathing in each other's breaths.

Once his head stopped spinning, Jay quickly pulled his jacket from his body and covered your lower halves, “I don’t need Heeseung over there seeing any more than he already has.”

You giggled at him, sitting yourself up on your elbows, “You didn’t seem to care that I was exposed earlier.”

Jay pinched your jaw between his fingers, “Not my fault you wanted to act like such a slut earlier.”

You bit at your lips and gave him pleading eyes. Loving the way he smirked down at you.

“You got your wish though, my love,” he said, pulling out of you and keeping the jacket in place as he pulled his jeans back up over his hips and helped you pull yours up too, “To be popular. Everyone will be talking about us now.”

You pulled at his shirt collar and kissed him tenderly. Never did you ever think your childhood best friend would be in this position with you. To be so in love with you. Deep down you felt the same and didn’t want to admit it to yourself. And it only took you acting on your said wish.

“At least we both will be the talk.”

Jay just chuckles against your lips, “Only come to me when you want a good fuck, ya? You’re mine.”

—perm.tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

#jay bae #park jongseong #jongseong park #jay park #park jay #jay x reader #reader x jay #park jongseong smut #park jay smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing

280 notes · View notes