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pseudowho · 4 months

Text

Debellatio

You ask Nanami Kento to help you and Higuruma Hiromi on a mission, after the events of In Flagrante Delicto (link here); you find yourself at the mercy of both men after they are struck by the aphrodisiac Curse.

An introduction to Greynami from my Post-Shibuya!AU Nanami; see Grey and Post-Shibuya AU!Nanami Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, another sex pollen fic because I'm utterly depraved and godless, threesome, I don't like to ruin surprises

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

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"Kento. We're friends...right?"

Nanami Kento's one good eye narrowed at you, you, sat so surreptitiously on the arm of the sofa in the coffee shop you had asked to meet him at. Kento briefly considered lowering his newspaper, but decided he'd wait to see what you wanted, first. No longer working for Jujutsu High after the Shibuya incident, he did, however, stay in contact with you, one of his favourite colleagues.

"Friends?" he teased, "I don't have friends." You pouted, slapping his arm lightly, and he continued, "Alright...what is it you want?"

You scooted next to him on the sofa, emboldened by his invitation; "It's Hiromi," you said, already desperate, almost begging.

Already on first name terms, Kento thought, a light jealousy twisting in his gut, having thought he and you always had potential together. "Higuruma?" he pressed, scarred face neutral. You nodded.

"I released him to the wild," you stated, filling Kento in, "I don't think he was ready, but he was insistent, he's been out on his own for a while now...anyway, he seems to have been alright. Alone."

You did not tell Kento how Hiromi Higuruma had spent every night over the past week in your bed, spurred on initially by an aphrodisiac Curse he had failed to exorcise. You had not told anyone at Jujutsu High, in fact. How would you tell them that you and Hiromi were...what? Colleagues with benefits? On an uncertain path towards boyfriend and girlfriend? Pleasuring each other blind every day and night, lost in each others' minds and bodies? You almost blushed, aware your underwear was damp with the seed he had left inside you just that morning.

Kento raised one thin eyebrow at your pause, imploring you to continue. You took a deep breath.

"There's a mission tomorrow, and they want to send more than one First Grade, they think it's big, apparently. They chose Hiromi, and me. But I've worked with him, and he's...he's..." you trailed off, searching for the words. Kento helped.

"Difficult? Doesn't play well with others?" he offered lightly. You nodded, hands clasped in your lap.

"Can you come with us? Just as a buffer. We won't even need you I don't think, just..." you tailed off again, hoping Kento agreed.

That familiar jealousy burned in Kento's gut again. 'We'. 'Won't even need you'. Kento kicked himself mentally, wondering if he'd left it too late to ask you out to dinner, to make his move, wondering if Higuruma of all people had showed up and pipped him to the post. His jaw clenched as he put down his newspaper, giving you a gentle reassuring smile. Of course he agreed.

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"Why is he here?" Hiromi pressed you, rolling his gavel between his hands in irritation. Nanami Kento stood a few feet away from you and Hiromi, catching up with Ijichi while the veil was prepared around a derelict shopping centre, held together by ivy and abandoned "SALE!" banners.

"Just for back-up, Hiromi. Anyway, I haven't seen him in ages. You'll be friends in no time, I'm sure of it," you cooed.

Hiromi bristled. He had heard you speak fondly of this...this...sexy pirate, Nanami Kento, and in these early, brittle stages of your relationship together, Hiromi couldn't help but feel threatened by this imposing figure of a man. Allowing himself a moment of fragile masculinity, he shook it off, reminding himself that you weren't a competition.

But that if you were, you'd chosen Hiromi and he had won anyway.

Kento smiled fondly at Ijichi, gripping his hand in a friendly squeeze, before heading over to you and Hiromi, the veil descending below him in an oily drip down an invisible dome. Kento's face remained neutral as he approached, he and Hiromi reading each other, both shrewd, calculating. You swallowed at the palpable tension, before trying to bridge the gap with a reassuring smile to them both. Kento spoke first.

"The electricity's back on, so we're not operating in the dark. We should introduce ourselves. Nanami Kento," he said shortly, offering a brief bow, his gaze piercing into Hiromi even through an eye patch, it seemed.

"Higuruma Hiromi," he offered, "I've been told you're just here as..."

"...insurance," Kento finished coolly, "as you're rather...new to this." Hiromi felt another pang of irritation, smiling tightly at Kento.

Kento turned to you, giving you a smile so warm and sincere that it cracked through his icy demeanour. When you smiled back, Hiromi gritted his teeth, reminding himself again to behave. Eyes now on you, he threaded his fingers through yours, tapping your joined hands against his thigh in an act of affection and possession.

"Come on then, my love. We'll lead the way, shall we?" Hiromi pulled you ahead of Kento as a pair, and Kento glowered silently at your backs as he followed you into the building.

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"Have you read The Day of the Triffids?" you mused aloud to Hiromi and Kento, running your hand along the network of enormous vines, some as thick as your thigh, clinging along the inner walls of the building. A hazy mist had settled within the confines of the corridors, dewy and tropical in the summer humidity of central Tokyo. Exotic and otherworldly flora popped in bursts of colour from the ceiling and floor as the corridor curved away from you.

Hiromi and Kento both confirmed immediately, competitive, flashing each other furious glances. You were oblivious, examining the tendrils and flowers in glittery-eyed fascination. Hiromi and Kento stewed, both hovering close to you, irritated by the invasion of each others' space.

"We should go deeper into the building," Hiromi stated, confident, tapping his gavel against his adjacent palm, "the main Curse body is probably hiding centrally." Kento cleared his throat, imitating politeness as he disagreed.

"Many of these Curses linger on the edges, like spiders in webs. It would be more thorough to scout inwards from the edges, first."

"Well that sounds pretty inefficient seeing as we know--"

"--well we don't know, you're just assuming--"

"--based on experience, I think--"

"--oh yes, and what experience would that be?" Kento finished, curt, brittle. He turned to you, shoulders clenched in a taut line under the clipped corners of his suit. Hiromi spun to catch your eye, anger burning low at Kento's interference. Both beseeched you, seethingly, to agree with them.

You blushed under their stares, feeling their Cursed energy rising, competing, and gulped, feeling naked and exposed.

"I think," you started slowly, "that both options are as viable as the other," both Kento and Hiromi huffed air out of their noses, lips curled in annoyance, "and so you two should decide between you."

"Either way," you continued, the air thick with tension, "we have to go this way to get to the rest of the building anyway. It will give you two time to make a decision, and maybe learn to get along?" Both men bristled at your gentle chastisement, facing each other, chins out, teeth gritted.

You continued behind Hiromi and Kento along the corridor, watching with mute horror, as conversation escalated into debate, descended into argument, spiralled into insults--

"Well you're apparently so smart," spat Kento at Hiromi, "that I probably should let you decide, even if you find out the hard way, but you're not dragging her into danger too, so--"

"--sorry we can't all muscle our way through our problems, Nanami, she probably should stay with the brains of the group, so--"

"--she's coming with me!" Their voices rang through the corridor in tandem, and you shouted in warning, as they both tripped, distracted, their legs tangling in a flower-covered vine, like trip wire across the floor.

A puff of yellow pollen shot up from the flowers, clouding Kento and Hiromi in a clinging haze. They coughed, sneezing, staggering backwards out of the cloud. Kento cleared his eye with a swift wipe, looking down at himself, surveying the damage.

But, Hiromi spun to face you, barely disguised panic in his eyes; "Shit. Shit. Not again--"

Your jaw dropped, appalled; "Again? Hiromi? Was this-- is this--"

Hiromi groaned, and leaned heavily, shivering against the wall as the pollen seeped through his pores, the yellow fading as it sunk into Hiromi's bloodstream. Kento's back was to you, but dread crept into your belly, low and hot, as you saw his shoulders roll and shudder, his scarred hand clasped over his mouth as his chin dipped towards the floor.

As both Hiromi and Kento turned slowly to look at you, hunger glowing in their eyes, you began to take tentative steps backwards, your speed gradually increasing as you spun, quickly building into a full sprint back down the corridor.

Kento was burning from the inside out; every nerve was on fire with desperate arousal, his cock rapidly hardening in the confines of his slim suit trousers, and he knew in furious desperation that if he didn't pin you down and ram every inch of himself into you, that he would surely perish in these sordid flames, and--

As Kento's legs bent with intent to hunt you down the corridor, he felt slim fingers grip around the front of his throat, Hiromi stepping into his vision, clearly suffering just as he was, but determined and steely, hooded eyes smouldering with threat.

"Not my girl, Nanami," Hiromi spat, squeezing the sides of Kento's thick throat with surprising force. Kento chuckled, full of dark mirth as he gripped Hiromi by the wrist, twisting it away from him; Hiromi held fast, hand shaking with exertion.

"You were the back-up, Higuruma," Kento rumbled, smirking, judgement clouded by wild, throbbing need, "so back off. Daddy's home now." Kento swept Hiromi's legs from under him, elbowing him to the ground, before leaping over his scrabbling form and stalking down the corridor, with surprising grace for such a big man.

Hiromi was on Kento in seconds, spinning him into a resounding thud against the wall, and Kento roared in frustration, as the two continued to scrap along the corridor, concrete cracking under their feet and shoulders as they bodied each other into the walls, trying to gain the upper hand.

You had reached the end of the corridor, the stairs blocked with a bawdry tangle of prickles and vines. You scanned the corridor, spotting a lift to the right, and you ripped fine vines away from its entrance, pressing the lift's button in a frantic panic, hearing the roars and crashes of Kento and Hiromi moving down the corridor towards you.

You had a moment of dread, fearful that the lift was now inoperable, before a tinny little ping announced the lift's arrival. Clambering over vines and into the lift, you saw a puff and crumble of rubble down the corridor as Kento was thrown into a wall, the ceiling partly collapsing above him.

You pressed the button again, again, again, your heart thick in your throat. You saw Hiromi round the corridor, zigzagging across jigsaws of vines, eyes intently on you.

As the doors grinded closed, Kento and Hiromi descended upon them, still scrapping, bloody, fighting with mindless desperation and rage. The lift stayed still, halted by your own paralysis as you caught their eyes through the glass, both begging you to let them in.

You swallowed, your belly hot with anticipation, wanting to help but utterly incapable of accepting the only means by which you could help. You mouthed wordlessly at Hiromi and Kento. You pressed a shaking finger to the lift's 'down' button, and Hiromi swiftly countered by pressing the button outside the lift doors. The lift pinged, juddered, stopped, started, indecisive, torn.

You were at a stalemate. You ran your hands through your hair.

"I can't...I can't help both of you," you cried, turning to look at Nanami, eyes brimming with apology as he rested his forehead against his fist, breathing out in a shaking moan.

"Kento, I...Hiromi and I, we..." Kento thumped his fist against the outside of the lift, the lift trembling at his strength.

"You choose him?" Kento spat, feeling precum leak down his thigh in a constant damp stream. He coughed, arousal burning through his throat, and reached down to squeeze his cock, desperate for relief, moaning softly as he bit into his fist.

"You'll-- you'll help me, though?" Hiromi urged, hopeful and throbbing, palms and forehead pressed flat to the glass of the lift, eyelids heavy and breaths hot and urgent. You swallowed, considering your promise to always help Hiromi, and nodded slowly, swallowing, memories of how desperately he took you the first time sweeping through you, your clit aching and pussy clenching around nothing.

"Open the door. Please, please, open the door," Hiromi whispered in prayer. Kento accepted, sickly, that you had made your decision, still certain he may die without relief. The pollen pulsed through him, toxic and ruinous, and he felt his vision fade into animalistic shades of black, white and red.

"I can-- I-- just let me watch," Kento forced out, begging through clenched teeth. You hesitated, eyes flicking towards Hiromi in question. Hiromi scowled, lips curled in distaste.

"Watch, don't watch-- I don't give a fuck. But I'll have your head if you lay a finger on her."

Kento snarled, lips pulled taut against his teeth-- but nodded his agreement. Your hand lowered, hesitantly retracting from the button as Hiromi calmly pushed the 'open' button from the outside, eyes burning into you with unholy intent.

As the door opened, Hiromi stepped to you, trembling with restraint, fists clenching and unclenching as he urged you backwards, caging you in against the wall with outstretched arms. Not breaking eye contact, he reached down to grab one of your hands, pressing it hard against his straining erection with a low groan, eyes closed against the enormity of the tiny relief and the promise of more to come.

Keeping your hand pressed against him, rutting into your open palm, Hiromi dipped his mouth to your neck, taking your skin between his lips in a deep, bruising lovebite.

"You know how this works," he intoned, low and slow, licking your neck as he rubbed your hand on the outline of his rigid cock, "and I know you can take it." You hesitated as Kento moved slowly into the lift space, the doors closing behind him. His eye shot daggers through you, the burned side of his face twisted in agony, until his gaze flicked downwards, staring hungrily at where Hiromi rutted his cock into your open hand. Kento's tongue darted out to lick his lips, his hand sinking slowly to undo his own belt.

As Hiromi continued to devour your neck, moaning with abandon as he pressed closer to you, humping his weeping clothed cock against your body, you felt your own inhibition fade curiously away. Your trepidation was slowly being overtaken, being seeded and overgrown by a burning hunger. You took a gasping breath, high off your own desire, head swimming--

"Hiromi-- the pollen, it's-- it's on your clothes," you urged, your brain clouding, thrumming, succumbing as yellow mist soaked into your skin.

Kento watched with erotic fascination as you became pliable, supple as water under Hiromi's mouth, your eyes half-closed with aching arousal, a desperate keening noise rising from your throat.

"Oh god yes," groaned Kento, voice gravelly with lust as he released his throbbing erection, pumping his thick cock in his fist, biting the backs of his knuckles on his free hand, "keep going, don't stop-- don't--"

Hiromi drank up Kento's begging, seethingly determined to prove his ownership of you, and grasped your top between his hands, ripping it open like paper, snapping the front of your bra so the cups hung loosely over your pebbled nipples. Hiromi heard Kento release a shuddering whine behind him as he latched his tongue and lips over your nipple, still rutting into your hand, which was joined by the other now as you worked frantically at Hiromi's trousers to release him.

Kento and Hiromi both gasped as Hiromi's cock sprang upwards, and was instantly grasped between your fingers, your first squeeze releasing a thick dribble of precum down Hiromi's length as he shuddered, moaning into your breasts, pressing his fist into the wall as you began to masturbate him. You ached to your very core, reeling with need.

"Please fuck me," you begged Hiromi, voice whispering and pleading in his ear, "cum inside me, as much as you want, I need it, I--" Hiromi didn't need to be told twice and lifted your legs to straddle his hips, holding you up against the wall as he flipped your skirt up, ripped your tights and sticky wet underwear at the groin, and allowed you to line up his cock between your puffy, glistening folds.

Kento's hand worked harder and harder on his own cock now, stopping to circle his thumb around the sensitive head, spreading his precum, fighting the urge to throw Hiromi aside and thrust into you himself. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he instead focused on where Hiromi's cock lined up with you.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Kento growled as Hiromi paused, panting into your neck, "get inside her or I will."

With one aggressive thrust, Hiromi's cock rammed into you to the hilt, slamming you back against the wall as you cried out, clawing at him desperately. Your hands clenched the front of his shirt, gripping and ripping, buttons scattering over the floor with faint skitters, so desperate were you to feel Hiromi's skin on yours.

Hiromi fucked you ruthlessly, eyes fixed on where his cock crashed into you, hips snapping back and forth with barely controlled fury. Spurred on by your mewls and whimpers, Hiromi panted, chasing his relief, agonised cries breaking from his mouth with every other thrust.

Kento's eye had drooped closed behind Hiromi, stroking himself now to the sounds of you and Hiromi alone, feeling with agonising certainty that cumming in his own hand would do little to relieve his deadly need, but needing to chase his orgasm regardless. He felt his pleasure building rapidly as he heard you cum, falling apart with trembling cries around Hiromi's cock.

Hiromi didn't last long, his first orgasm hitting him with a wave of relief so violent, his knees almost buckled, relying on you for a moment to hold yourself up against him. Hiromi felt blinded as rope after rope of his seed spurted into you, coating your cervix, soothing your aching belly with warmth. Kento came with a shuddering gasp, streams of thick cum splattering onto the floor and coating his hand, face contorted in pain when he felt little to no relief despite his orgasm plundering through his every muscle.

You and Hiromi clung onto each other, still joined, and Hiromi's cock felt no softer at all, still rigid and held with urgency against your cervix, sucked in by your velvety walls.

"I'm-- I'm sorry I-- I can't stand--" Hiromi stuttered, dropping to his knees with your legs still wrapped around him, still pressed core to core as you wrapped your arms around his neck, straddling him, riding him as he whimpered into your mouth. Lost in your own pleasure, your eyes had drifted shut as you rode Hiromi, slippery with cum, keeping his cock jealously inside you, unwilling to let him pull out by more than an inch.

You felt a strong hand wind into your hair, tipping your head backwards and sideways, and as you gasped, you felt a droplet of salty cum drip onto your tongue. Kento's other hand, sticky with his own seed, ghosted around your lips as he stared down at you, scarred face impassive, but his eye urgently begging, and he dipped a cum-covered thumb into your mouth, stroking across your tongue.

Hiromi flung a hand out sideways, clawing with fury at Kento's thick, corded thigh; "Nanami," he hissed in warning. Kento ignored him, still staring at you, pleading, impeaching--

You nodded slowly, opening your mouth, holding out your tongue. Kento groaned his appreciation, and leant down to dip his tongue against yours as you gripped his thick cock in your hand. Hiromi scowled, thrusting you harder onto him in possessive punishment, satisfied to hear you squeak against Kento's tongue. As Kento pulled away from you and your mouth started to close, he gripped your jaw, stopping you.

"Open," he barked and you acquiesced, jolting and groaning as you felt him spit into your mouth, mixing with the drips of cum his fingers left behind. Humming lowly in satisfaction, Kento stood tall, manoeuvring your head and thrusting his full length down your throat with little warning.

Despite himself, Hiromi was hypnotised as Kento gripped you by the hair, ramming into you; Hiromi kept pace with Kento, matching his timing by slamming your hips down onto his. His eyes fixed on your mouth as you coughed and spluttered, cheeks covered with cum and saliva as you choked down wet gags, Kento barking orders at you as he slammed his cock repeatedly over your tongue and into your throat.

"Harder, Nanami," Hiromi ordered, blinded by lust as he felt your cunt clench around him, fluttering weakly as Hiromi slipped his hand between your legs, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing rapid circles, lubricated by the slick of your cum.

You were overwhelmed, floppy and malleable as you embraced being used by Kento and Hiromi, covered in fluids, sticky and sweating, and you shivered weakly as Hiromi dragged you to another orgasm. You felt Hiromi ram you onto him once, twice and three more times until he came with a frantic shout, legs cramping underneath him as he felt his seed shoot through him like electricity, dripping out of you and soaking the patch of trimmed black hair at the base of his cock. Hiromi whined, his balls clenching painfully, watching as Kento finished in your mouth.

Kento pulled you to him, his knuckles deep in your hair as your nose hit his neat honey-coloured pubes, gulping as streams of his hot cum trickled down your throat, Kento growling his relief-- "good girl-- good girl-- swallow now"-- as you drank him down.

Kento let go of your hair and you pulled back, gasping and coughing, his cock still rigid, sat wetly on your cheek as Kento rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side, still tense. Hiromi was wrecked, burning with need, but crippled and paralysed with a bone-deep exhaustion as he straightened his legs under you, his cock still rigid and throbbing inside you as he came down from his orgasm.

"Not-- not enough--" Kento rumbled, still desperate, devastated by the lack of relief.

"Enough, Nanami," Hiromi gasped, "She needs a--"

"'She' can handle it," you interrupted, nose to nose with Hiromi as he looked into you, glassy-eyed and worried. He nodded slowly. Kento rumbled his approval, pressing you forwards by the back of the neck until Hiromi was laid on his back on the floor, cock still inside you, and you laid down belly first on him.

Without hesitating, Kento mounted you from behind, his mouth ghosting against your ear as he bit it, relishing your squeaks as you pressed your cheek into Hiromi's chest. Lining up his cock with where Hiromi was already seated deep inside you, Kento pressed his cock into you.

You saw stars as your pussy was stretched more than it ever had been, clawing wildly at Hiromi's chest as Kento bottomed-out; Hiromi shivered with delight at the impossible tightness and slickness of you, his groans cracking as Kento's cock slid against his with every thrust. Higuruma lay unmoving at first, colours popping in his eyes, before digging his fingers into the plushness of your hips, and thrusting into you in tandem with Kento.

You were ruined, completely prone on Hiromi as you felt Hiromi and Kento's lengths bully in and out of you, your thighs shaking with urgency as your clit was shunted against Hiromi's pubic bone every time Kento rammed into you. Hearing Kento's groans, broken and velvety behind you, had you tipping over the edge, your arousal spurting out around Kento and Hiromi, your cries and whimpers echoing weakly around the little chamber.

Kento felt fire burst through his hips, back and belly as he came for a final time, barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of you as he felt himself weaken, Hiromi's cock twitching against his as Hiromi shuddered, sandy gasps leaving his throat as his seed mixed with Kento's inside you.

Hiromi reached around you, rolling you all sideways so Kento could collapse onto the floor. You lay together, stunned, sticky and panting. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and desire. Kento chuckled, low and shaking, as you nuzzled into Hiromi, planting tender kisses on his jaw.

"Alright," he rumbled, reluctant, "so she's your girl. But I still owe her dinner."

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Hiromi and Kento at the end of this:

The reader:

This took me two large glasses of wine to write.

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changetyre · 3 months

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Heyyyy I just read something with Lando and he says “I wasn’t asking” and I’m going to need moreeee please & thank you 😍

F*ck you!!! || Lando Norris x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You absolutely despise the way Lando can having you screaming in anger and then pleasure in a matter of seconds…right? Part 1 Here

WARNINGS: **18+**, hate sex

A/N: I love me some hate sex, denying your feelings kinda fics

It was the worse feeling in the world, no doubt. Your first victory was right there, your hands ready to grasp it you could touch it with the tip of your fingers only for it to be ripped away from you.

The race had gone perfectly, exactly as you’d planned both you and your team had done an excellent job in what was undeniably one if the not the best race of your career, making your way up from P12 after a bad qualifying.

No further action

You read and re read the text ready to waltz into that damned stewards office and give them a piece of mind right before lighting the damn building on fire. That’s the amount of rage you felt right now.

Some part of you was absolutely ready to spend the rest of your life behind bars if it weren’t for that idiot of a man you so very much loved to fuck showed up in your drivers room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You scoffed, right about ready to slap him too.

He’d been the cause of it, happily taking the victory for himself without a care that he’d cost you your race and first and well deserved victory completely.

“I came to apologize.” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face that you wanted to wipe off but a fucked up part of you still enjoyed.

“Fuck off.” You shoved him out of the way as you continued grabbing your things scattered around the room to pack them.

“I am really sorry.” Lando repeated.

“Right you really did look sorry when you were happily spraying champagne up on the podium posing for any camera that pointed your way.” You bit back.

“Let me make it up to you then.” Lando grabbed your waist stoping you from moving around the room.

“Don’t touch me.” Lando almost believed you meant it if it weren’t for the fact you made no attempt whatsoever to get his hands off you.

“Wanna touch me instead baby?” That stupid confident smirk appeared on his face again.

“Fuck you!” You huffed angrily looking up at him.

“I bet you do.” Lando laughed before pushing his lip on yours.

You moaned in annoyance but once again didn’t try hard to push him away. Lando basked in the way you accepted it and tried fighting for dominance with your lips which only for today he’d be okay with giving you.

“I hate you.” You whispered as you yanked Lando’s hair back allowing you to trail your lips down his neck.

“I bet you do baby.” Lando only spurred you on as he felt you leaving marks across his skin.

“I do…so fucking much.” You almost moaned the words this time as you ripped Lando’s shirt off him letting your lips continue their journey downwards before yanking his pants down too.

“Show me how much darling.” Lando knew he had to be quiet, despite the fact that your little adventures weren’t secret to many anymore being victims of your loud ventures around the paddock after a day like today it didn’t seem wise to give people more to talk about.

You didn’t feel like prepping him, you quite frankly didn’t care for anything other than taking out your frustration on him, to make him whine and ache at your hands.

So as you began harshly sucking on his length you basked in the way his knees buckled from under him forcing him to find the nearest support to keep himself upright.

He tried to sit down but you were quick to deny him that luxury.

“You sit down and I’ll stop.” You threatened and you reveled in the way he obeyed, straightening up and his eyes begging for more.

Your own cheeks hurt with how hard you sucked him and you knew he wouldn’t last long, and you watched for the tell tale signs carefully.

“Sh*t that’s so good baby.” Lando panted as he gathered your hair in a ponytail.

His head fell back in pleasure, as he tried his hardest to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape his lips.

“I’m almost there…keep going…ah…ugh!” Lando’s groans got louder.

Just as he was about to release you stopped.

“WHAT THE-“ Lando absolutely hated the feeling, the ache that settled in his core with his pleasure being ripped away right at the last second.

“Feels shit doesn’t it.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You little-“ Lando hated the fact that he for 1 second believed you’d make him feel good and forget about today.

“Have fun taking care of that.” You poked Lando’s rock-hard dick before getting up, grabbing your bags and leaving him.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #changetyre #f1fic #f1smut #smut #f1 smut #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #dom reader #dom reader x lando norris

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angelltheninth · 10 months

Note

HSR men and the romance cliche where they wake up married after a night of drinks and partying

Ah, the premise of so many enemies to lovers movies.

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luka, Luocha, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, accidental marriage, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, confession, angry make outs, fake/pretend relationship to real relationship

A/N: Its funny that as much as I hate romance movies I'm a sucker for so many of their tropes.

Blade takes a lot of delight in this situation because he thinks its funny that you claim to hate his guts but a little drinking, some kisses and one wild night in bed and you're marrying him. Oh this is too good for him to let go of. You can deny it all you want but you're attracted to him on some level, these scratch marks on his back and the rings on your fingers are proof. You can make this easy by admitting it, just a simple "yes" will do.

Dan Heng is confused how you even got to this phase. Yes you like each other to some degree but it's never been like this. When you're at work you have lots of playful banter, it never went much farther. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings because he can see that as much as you're freaking out you want his support too and maybe give this a try? Just for a little while cause it might look bad if got divorced right away. When he sees you looking at the ring with that little smile on your face he starts to wonder if this was something he's always wanted, but was too afraid to ask for.

Gepard is horrified that he allowed himself to get so under the influence that he would marry one of his fellow knights. And you... slept together too... oh... what if... are you pregnant? Right, right you don't know yet, of course. But if you are then he's ready to support you! He's getting a little ahead of things isn't he? It's not as if he doesn't like you or enjoys your company, he wouldn't call it love but would seem odd for him to have a secret wife. So why not start small, you'll get washed up and then he'll take you to breakfast. Who knows maybe you can work your way up to a wedding.

Jing Yuan doesn't think its a big deal, it was just a spur of the moment decision and if he was being honest one that doesn't bother him at all. Everyone's been telling him its time to settle down, why not with his secretary? You've had a friends with benefits relationship for a while and you've both shown no intent in seeing other people. That may be true but this means you'll have to come out about your previous relationship as well. Don't worry, if anything has any objections they can say it to him, if they dare.

Luka hates this as much as you do. You're his rival, you trade blows in the ring, not kisses in the sheets. Although you've both had those dreams too, he himself needed many cold showers because of it. Being forced to endure this for a few months won't be easy, not with the press asking questions, how long you've been dating, why did you act like you hated each other. It wasn't an act, but your happy lovey-dovey attitude sure is. When the doors close behind you all you can do is take out your anger on each other via kisses, trading them as you move to the bedroom to get the frustrations out.

Luocha thought about breaking things off right away but couldn't bring himself too when he saw the lovestruck look on your face when you looked at him. This marriage needs to end sooner or later, unless you plan to follow him to the road, which he doesn't want to do to you. Your life is here, not out there. But he will, at least for a little while be the best husband you could hope for. He never thought he would find himself falling in love and opening a clinic in the process.

Welt kind of wants to give this a shot. Sure he doesn't know you that well yet but from what he has seen of you, you're a very hard worker, you keep a calm head on your shoulders and you look very cute when shy, he remembers that from last night very well. He's never been married before so this will be a learning experience for you both, one that will go from pretending to be in love, to longing glances, to good night kisses just because it feels right, to cuddling on the couch every day, and finally to confessing your love to each other.

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mrkis · 1 year

Text

nct dream reaction :: begging them

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗? 〚YES〛/ 〚𝗡𝗢✗〛 ⟶ requests are closed.

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞

hearing you beg for him as he's fucking you deep spurs something inside of him. he's heard you beg before but not like this𑁋voice high pitched and whiney, hands grabbing at any part of his body you can reach, eyes dazed and pleading.

"want me to go faster? hm?" he teasingly asks you, lips brushing against your own before his teeth snags on your bottom lip, causing you to whine. "harder? deeper? what are you begging for?"

"please" you beg again, unable to make a proper sentence for him as your legs tighten around his shoulders, fingernails digging into his biceps as tears freely fall down your cheeks when the pleasure in the pit of your tummy gets too overwhelming.

his facial expression almost soften when the realisation hits him, "you begging to cum? baby... go ahead. you can cum. cum for for me. let me feel you"

𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡

"please? i can cum quick. i've been horny all day" you beg him, tugging at his arm for him to slip his hand into your panties and finger you until you see stars.

"but i have to be at rehearsals soon..." renjun frowns, wanting nothing more than to give you what you want but he can't risk being late again and being teased by the other members. "i need to leave in ten minutes"

"that's enough time! please, renjun. i promise it'll be quick"

"you promise?

"yes, i promise" you rush with a quick nod of your head, throwing your arms around renjun's shoulders to bring him into a messy kiss. "please, please, please"

"okay" renjun agrees, stumbling over his own feet as he leads you towards the sofa, your lips being ripped away from his as you drop down on the cushiony surface. he climbs above you, tugging at your shorts. "let me make you feel good"

𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢

"use your words" he tells you as he cups your chin, turning your head from the pillows to face him as he thrusts into you from behind, hips slapping against your ass cheeks. you're a drooling mess, babbling all sorts of begs and pleases. "what is it? what do you want me to do? speak"

"want you... want you to fuck me𑁋" you cut yourself off with a pant, gripping the bedsheets tighter at one particular harsh thrust he gives.

"i'm already fucking you" he grins, letting go of your chin to trace his hands down your spine, gripping and spanking your ass cheeks. "have i fucked you that dumb already?"

"no. fuck me... here"

"you want me here?" he repeats as your fingers wrap around his wrist to bring them to your puckered rim, a smirk slipping across his face. "you want me in your ass, baby? do you think you can take it?"

𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

"please eat me out" haechan's brows pull together, mouth opening in shock as he turns his attention from his phone to look at you on his bed, enticing him by wearing his favourite shirt with nothing undearneath.

"you're filthy" he teases, eyes darting back to the device in his hands to tease you a little bit more. "i ate you out this morning"

"and?" you press, leaning up on your elbows to glare over at him. "i'm horny and desperate for your mouth. are you going to give me what i want or not?"

"you're so greedy" haechan tuts as he locks his phone and throws it on his desk before he drops down to the bed, scoffing at your uncontrollable giggles of happiness and smug look as he pries your legs open to settle in between them, grinning to himself as he sees the glistening arousal smeared across your folds. "good thing i'm obsessed with your pussy, baby"

𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡

"fuck me right here" you beg him, fingers pulling at the drawstrings of his sweatpants as you to stand in between him and the kitchen island. "please? right on this island. i can be quiet"

"you're never quiet" he tells you, eyeing you as he slowly takes a sip of his coffee. "the boys are home, anyone can walk in"

"i don't care" you shake your head quickly, hand pushing past the waistband and cupping his cock through his boxers, trying your hardest not to smile when you can feel your words effecting him. "please, jaemin. fuck me. i need you so badly"

"how can i make sure you're quiet? hm?" he asks you, setting the empty cup of coffee down on the side and trails his hand up your arm and over your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the column of your neck before pressing the palm of his hand over your mouth. "like this? will you scream into my hand so no one will hear you?"

𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘

chenle blinks at you in disbelief as he sees you get on your knees in front of him inside a dimly lit bathroom at a bar, groping his thighs through his jeans.

"how are you so horny all the time?"

"i have you as a boyfriend, what do you expect?" your statement makes his chest swell with pride, a cocky smirk spreading across his lips. "please let me suck your cock, chenle. i've been desperate all night and you wearing these tight fitted jeans doesn't help"

"so its my fault?" he jokes, chuckling quietly when you bat your eyelashes innocently up at him. he tilts his head to the side, breathing getting heavier when he sees you pull his belt through the loops. "do you really want to suck my cock that badly?"

"yes" you nod immediately, licking at your lips. "please? will you let me?"

"yeah" chenle answers, his hand coming down to caress the top of your head as you eagerly pull down his jeans and boxers to free his cock. "do whatever you want to me"

𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚

"can you do something for me?" jisung asks you in the middle of a heated makeout session, causing your brows to furrow as you stare at him with a confused expression. you nod your head, allowing him to continue. "would you... can you... beg for me to fuck you?"

"what?"

his cheeks bloom a slight red, "it's just that i overheard haechan telling mark that his girlfriend begs him to fuck her and i wanted to experience it. i thought it was hot"

"oh" you pause, allowing the silence to take over you both for a few seconds before you tangle your fingers in the back of his hair, pulling him closer towards you. "please fuck me, jisung. please fill me up. i need you so badly. please, baby... give me your cock. fuck me"

jisung lets out a guttural moan, dropping his head to the crevice of your neck. "oh my god"

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream reaction #nct dream reactions #nct smut reactions #nct #nct dream #mark lee smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #jisung smut

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nico-di-genova · 1 month

Note

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

(for lestappen please, you can choose whichever one you prefer (or both, I would not mind both)) have a great day <3

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“You’re ignoring me,” Max states when he manages to get Charles alone for the first time in nearly a week. It is a feat accomplished only by knocking on his hotel room door until the Monegasque either grows tired of the noise or fearful of the attention it will bring. Charles Leclerc does not do anything he does not want to do, and it is clear at the moment he does not want to see Max. Even if he says otherwise.

“I am not.”

“Liar.”

“I am not lying.”

It’s clear he is, from the tension in his shoulders to the set of his jaw, to the way he keep glancing between Max’s feet, the door behind him, the blood red sleeve of a Ferrari hoodie that’s been thrown across his bed. Anywhere other than Max’s steel-eyed gaze and the hurt that must be obvious there.

Max knows how to read him, he’s had years of practice by now and the drive to study. Charles is far too expressive for his own good, his eyes betraying him when he does briefly glance at Max and there’s mirrored pain there. He looks away quickly, knows Max will see it, bites his bottom lip and curls tighter in on himself against the dresser he’s propped back on.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Max asks, calm, because he knows that raised voices accomplish nothing. His parents taught him that.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Charles. You have to tell me, please, because I cannot read your mind.”

Not for lack of trying, not for lack of want. He’s spent countless nights studying Charles’ face in his sleep, the curve of his lips, the mole where his jaw meets his ear, another next to his nose, the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks in a way that makes Max’s stomach do summersaults. He’s tried cataloging every expression Charles has ever given him simply for the pure organization of it. Like understanding Charles was a sport and he was going for the title, but it is the one game he cannot seem to win. The one where Charles always finds a way to throw him for a loop right as Max thinks he’s finally putting together the pieces.

Charles shifts against the dresser, uncomfortable under the pure weight of Max’s gaze. He swallows and Max watches as his adams apple bobs. A week ago he was pressing kisses there. A week ago Charles let him.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Charles shakes his head, “You did not do anything.”

His voice is thick with tears, the way he gets after a particularly rough quali, or a DNF where he comes out with bruised ribs and fractured confidence. Max steps forward, the urge to comfort, soothe, fix overriding him, but forces himself to pause. His reaching hand drops back limply to his side, spasms with the memory of Charles’ shoulder beneath his palm.

Charles’ hands fist tighter around the fabric of his shirt, where he’s attempting to comfort himself.

“Then what is going on?”

“I-,” he shakes his head like he’s clearing away a memory, clenches his eyes closed until Max can see the tears beading at the corners, “I think I am in love with you.”

He opens his eyes and Max is confronted with the glassy shine of unshed tears.

“And I am terrified.”

If there was air in the room before it quickly evacuates, sucking Max’s ability to speak right out with it. He thinks of a week ago, the way the confession had fallen so easily from his lips while it looks like it is ripped from Charles now – carved from his chest and placed before Max bloody and still beating with the truth of it.

He opens his mouth, he closes it.

Charles tries to wipe away the tears with the back of his shaking hand and it only spurs them into falling, trailing down his sunburned cheeks and dripping in splotches onto the fabric of his white shirt. Max watches them spread across the cotton.

“Charles.” He forces out around the lump in his throat, the only word he can manage because it is a name he would know even if all others left him. He speaks it like a prayer, like a promise, like there is nothing else.

Charles sobs, chokes, and then he’s stumbling forward as Max catches him with the ease of someone who would never let him fall.

‘This sport. It takes from you...It is like this.’ Charles had once whispered to him in the dim light of another hotel room in Japan. When Max had heard him muffling his sobs in the bathroom and knew not to press against a wound that was raw. He’d let him cry, let him pretend Max hadn’t heard, and held him that night until Charles fell asleep against him with his head tucked beneath Max’s chin.

When he woke the next morning, Charles was gone. They didn’t speak of it again.

“I’m here,” Max promises now, the same way he had whispered it into the dark of that hotel room, against the soft tufts of Charles' hair as he slept. “I’m right here.”

Max can feel Charles' fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt along his back, pressing deep enough he scratches along skin.

“I love you. And I’m right here.”

And he’s terrified too. Terrified of the way Charles makes him feel a way he’s never felt before. Max hates the feeling of unpredictability, hates that he’s come to frequently feel it with Charles. With racing, it is simple. He puts his helmet on, he drives, he takes corners that he’s practiced on the sim so many times that he can see them in his sleep. He knows how the car should feel beneath him, and he trusts his team to fix it when he tells them what is wrong. Charles is not a car. Charles cries easy, laughs easy, speaks easy, changes between moods with a frequency Max often cannot predict. He is the boy that would send Max into the barriers if pressed to, and the man who can dance along the track with him tire to tire until the end. He is perhaps the only person Max could know, truly know, down to the core of him, and the enigma who Max will never be able to solve.

He's fucking terrified of loving him. But he holds Charles anyway.

“You will leave,” Charles whispers against Max’s neck, muffled and so quiet Max knows Charles is hoping he does not hear.

Max hates to be told what he will do. He and Charles share the same stubborn drive to ignore whatever predestined path they were set on. Charles drives for Ferrari because he wants to. Max wins championships because he can. They aren’t doing it because the universe told them it was what they were meant to do, or because Max’s dad kept his hands taped to that steering wheel and pushed him into this. Charles could leave, he’s got a contract that is firmly under his own control, and Max could quit tomorrow simply because he got bored of it all. They could both fuck off to the middle of nowhere and sell ice cream from a hut simply because they had the money and means to do so. So maybe Max will leave, and maybe he won’t, and maybe he'll crash his car and maybe he’ll make it safely back to his and Charles’ bed. Who knows. He certainly doesn’t

“I might,” he says, in the same easy tone he tells GP that the car is handling like shit, feeling the way Charles freezes at the statement, “I might do a lot of things. But I will still love you in the end of it.”

He traces a finger along Charles' spine, from the notch in his neck to the dip of his back. Charles shudders, sniffles, buries himself closer to Max like he’s trying to mold them into one. He’s still crying, Max can feel the fresh tears warm against his carotid, spilling down to his collarbone and collecting at the hem of his shirt.

“Will you love me?” he asks, raw and honest, letting the ache of it fill his voice so Charles knows the truth of it, of him. Max does not ask for much, he’s learned to be content with what he has, but he’s asking now. Hoping in a way that is unfamiliar to him.

When Charles nods, it is like air returning to his lungs, like crossing the finish line and hearing GP’s voice tell him he’s won his third title. Victory, and euphoria, and the rush of adrenaline hitting him all in one fell swoop.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I love you,” Charles pulls away from him so he can meet Max’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed, bloodshot to shit, there’s snot beneath his nose. Max thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He lifts a hand to cup Charles’ cheek and the man leans into the touch, slots perfectly against his palm that splays along his jaw. He brushes a stray tear away with his thumb and Charles’ eyes flutter closed at the touch before blinking open to meet his once more - wide, and green, and so honest - so familiar.

Max leans forward to press their foreheads together, warm breath mingling between them.

“I am terrified, but I love you,” Charles whispers, “and I’m sorry for pushing you away. It hurts too much sometimes.”

“It hurts to not know what I did wrong,” Max counters, continuing to stroke his thumb along Charles’ cheekbone, to comfort the part of him that thought he might have been losing this.

“Sorry.”

“No- Charlie, no. Don’t be sorry, just- just trust me next time, okay? Or try. I’m not going anywhere right now. You have me.”

I’m yours, he wants to say, always yours. He thinks he maybe always has been, been chasing the boy with stubborn resilience and cutting resolve for his whole life. Instead he holds Charles until the tears stop falling and their breaths come easier and the world stops feeling like it’s falling out from beneath both of them.

I love you, and it is fucking terrifying he thinks, but god is it worth it.

When Charles looks up at him, with the quirk of his lips, the tear tracks drying on his cheeks, and the vulnerability in his eyes Max knows he feels the same.

He’s been studying, after all.

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen fic #my fic #writing them feels a little bit like coming home #I can't lie #they are such a comfort to me

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 10 months

Note

Dbfrry quickie?

“Fuck,” Harry hisses, breath coming out in short puffs as he watches the way YN’s ass jiggles against him each time their hips meet. His eyes flicker up to the mirror in front of them, and it takes every ounce of strength he has not to cum right then and there.

YN is bent over the counter before him, her face buried deep into the crook of her arm as she tries to keep quiet. Her parents are less than 50 feet away and she’s getting absolutely wrecked by her father’s best friend. She should’ve known she’d end up in this position when she decided to tease Harry at the dinner table while everyone was around, and she wasn’t surprised when she got up to ‘go to the restroom’ and Harry appeared a few minutes later.

She has no clue what sort of excuse he came up with but she can tell they have to be quick by the way he walked in and immediately flipped her pretty sundress up and pulled her panties to the side before giving himself a few quick tugs before sliding in. The sound of her family laughing in the other room is still audible in the background, and they both know that if it were to get quiet for even a moment, their true actions would be revealed without a doubt.

The danger of the situation only spurs them on, and Harry decides to make it all the more challenging for her. Grabbing both of her arms, he pulls her up until she’s upright with her back pressed against his chest, his thrusts unceasing. Without her arms to keep her quiet, she’s left biting her lips with her eyes squeezed shut as the new angle provides him with the perfect angle to nudge her g-spot head on with each bruising thrust.

She makes the mistake of letting out a broken whimper of pleasure as it becomes too much to keep in, her legs beginning to shake as her orgasm nears. “None of that now,” Harry shushes from behind her, still keeping a close eye on her in the mirror. “Can’t have them hearing us in here, you know that,” he scolds gently. “Y’gonna cum for me? Can feel you squeezing me.”

She can only nod quickly, fearing that if she opens her mouth she’ll have no choice but to expose their lewd actions. “I know, baby. Bet it feels like so much,” he coos condescendingly, and she can barely manage another nod as she moves closer and closer to the edge. “Go on then. Cum all over my cock and I’ll give you what you need,” he encourages.

With his granted permission she wouldn’t even be able to hold off her orgasm if she wanted to, and with just two more consistent thrusts against her g-spot she’s cumming with a loud broken sob of pleasure, the full house entirely escaping her mind. He can’t even find the energy to stop her, the tightening of her warm walls instantly triggering his orgasm as well.

He somehow manages to keep quiet as he floods her with his cum, his hips flush against hers as his cock pulses inside of her. One more weak thrust and he’s pulling his softening cock from her and watching his cum drip out for just a moment before they’re both startled by a heavy knock on the door.

part 2

#harryistheonlyoneforme #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles #harry styles filth #harry related writings #dbf harry styles #dbf harry #blurb #dbf blurb

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jenoslutie · 10 months

Note

i saw your requests were open and im really craving jeno filth rn. can i request a blurb of mean/angry jeno wanting to try anal spur of the moment while fucking but theres poor prep. can there be focus on degrading, humiliation, & dacryphilia? i saw on your requests that you write some hard kinks so hopefully this works (if not, ignore me). thank you!

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

genre: smut

wc: 1501

warnings: degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia, anal (with little to no prep), mentions of haechan, angry jeno.

a/n: thank u anon!! im so sorry im replying so late i've been suffering with severe lack of motivation but thank u to @jenomov for motivating me to write this luv u bb!!

Ever since you and Jeno got home earlier, hes been upset and he won't tell you why. All you remember was being at a little get together with him and his friends and midway during the night he took you by the hand and told you that you guys would be leaving. The whole car ride was silent and you honestly don't have a clue what could be wrong with him. You'd assume one of his friends may have said something that pissed him off but if that did happen he would've mentioned it to you. All your attempts of trying to ask him have been pushed away with him either ignoring you or simply telling you to not worry about it.

"Jeno?" You walked into your shared bedroom after washing up where he was at his desk playing video games, already having changed into a pair of grey shorts and a white t-shirt. "Can you talk to me? what's wrong?" and much like the other times, he ignored you once again. Being fed up with his silent treatment, you went up to where he sat at his desk and took his headphones off his head, placing them on his desk and turning the chair around so he'd finally look at you for the first time since you'd gotten home today.

"Jeno, talk to me please, what's wrong? I don't know what I did and it's making me feel like shit knowing that I upset you and I don't even know what I did" Jeno groans, not amused that you reminded him of it again. "You know what, fine I'll fill you in." He sat you down on the floor in front of him and his voice was awfully calm which was a stark contrast to his demeanour from less than a minute ago. He tucks your hair behind your ear and ran his hands through your hair before grabbing a fistful and pulling it roughly, making you wince.

"I was looking for you the whole time today but where did I end up finding you? Sitting outside with Haechan. You know how he feels about you yet you still entertained it like some attention whore." He sneered as he says this and tugs on your hair harder.

Now you remember.

Jeno seemed to be occupied with his friends so you and Haechan decided to go and get some drinks from the kitchen before sitting outside and people watching. There was barely any dialogue exchanged other than some random comments the both of you made when you saw someone doing something funny.

So you tell Jeno that.

"You know, if you really want to slut yourself out to Haechan while your boyfriend is busy with his friends then go ahead. But for now, come on, strip" Jeno was seeing red at this point. He was already upset that you ditched him and when he finally did find you, he found you hidden away with his friend who's had feelings for you since time. What added on to his anger was you were wearing this skin tight black romper with no bra underneath so everyone could clearly see every curve of your body and your very hard nipples.

He watched you as you got rid of that stupid romper that made you look even sexier than you already were. "come on, take off those panties too, sluts like you don't need those. I'm surprised you even wore any in the first place." you complied with a slight frown, the situation was so arousing to you right now but you couldn't show him just how much it was affecting you. Jeno hummed as your naked body stood before him, his fingers finding their way to your nipples to toy with them before bringing his mouth to one and flicking his tongue over it making you moan softly. However that didn't last long until Jeno got off his chair and sat you on it instead. You brought your hand down to your sopping wet cunt and realized your wetness was dripping down onto his chair. You knew Jeno wouldn't be happy about it considering his mood right now so you chose not to even mention anything about it until he'd notice himself. Which clearly didn't last long because when Jeno looked down to where your hand was, he saw the mess that was made on his new gaming chair.

"What the fuck is this hmm?" Jeno raised his eyebrows at you making you close your legs and look down in shame. "You know, I was thinking of letting you off easy but I don't think you deserve it today. Get on your knees and clean up your mess." You whimpered at his degradation. As harsh as his words may get, you know he doesn't mean it at the end of the day. So you obeyed his command and fell to your knees and lapped up your arousal from his chair, leaving an arguably bigger mess but you know Jeno never really minded in the first place.

"Good girl. Get on the bed baby" You followed all his commands with no hesitation. Making your way over to the bed with him trailing behind you. He sat you on the bed before getting rid of his shorts and shirt. Immediately, you knew what that meant so you got right to work, licking at his tip before taking his length in your mouth. Sucking him off like you know he likes. Making a mix of his groans and the sound of you gagging from his length hitting the back of your throat fill the room.

He pulled you off him before he was able to reach the edge. "Get on your hands and knees." And you obeyed, arching your back the way he likes it. What you didnt expect was to feel his cock circling your rim. it's not your first time doing this with him but there was barely any prep or foreplay to prepare you for this. "Jeno? I dont think I'm prepped enough for anal right now..." you trailed off to which he slapped your ass in response. "You can take it I know you can, It'll feel good I promise" Dropping down a glob of spit to 'lubricate' your hole before he slid in just his tip around your hole, hips stuttering from the feeling of your hole squeezing him in. The pain was too much making your eyes well up "Jeno fuck..it hurts so much" And as if to make it better, he dropped another glob of spit on your hole to make the stretch more bearable (it didnt help much). When he finally bottomed out in your ass he let out a loud groan which you could almost feel from the way his cock twitched inside you. Your cheeks were stained with tears as you fought the urge to beg him to at least use some lube but the thought quickly went to the back of your head when he started pounding into your ass while rubbing at your clit.

"Jeno fuck" you sniffled and you didnt expect Jeno to fucking whimper at your tone. "Fuck baby are you crying?" He chuckled softly, flipping you onto your back to observe your messy tear stained face.

"You're so fucking pretty when you cry baby it makes me wanna ruin you more often. You like when I fuck you hard like this?" You nod and soon the pain is mixed with pleasure when he rubs at your clit harder and your arousal trails down to where his cock is pounding into you.

"Gonna cum Jeno feels so good" Jeno knew you were close from the way you tightened up around him and your legs shook around his waist. "Cum baby. show me that pretty teary face when you cum." And you did. Your orgasm hit you so hard that you sob even harder, your face a mix of tears and drool that made Jeno's high to follow right behind yours. He buried his cock all the way inside you and you feel the hot white ropes of cum filling you up.

Jeno slowly pulled out and collapsed next to you, wiping the tears off your face. "You're so good to me baby sorry if I was too rough today." You shook your head with a smile, not trusting your voice to do you any justice in the moment. Jeno returned the smile and gave you a soft kiss to your forehead.

"And just so you know, I'm not mad about the Haechan thing anymore. It was a stupid thing to get mad about I'm sorry" You smiled at the man before you. Jeno less than 10 minutes ago was nothing compared to the Jeno you were seeing right now.

"It's okay, I love you and only you okay?" He hummed with a smile, giving you another kiss to your forehead before he went off to get something to clean you up with.

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #mark lee smut #jaemin smut #haechan smut #renjun smut

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teyamsatan · 7 months

Text

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪɪɪ - ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ

pairing: dilf!jake x human!reader (part of False God)

➽ a/n: i wrote this literally an hour before posting so i hope you besties enjoy x i was gonna reuse an older jake drabble but @jakexneytiri inspired this, so blame her hahahaha. dilf!jake will never not make me feral and weepy, much like our reader is. this drabble is also loosely based in False God, because the dynamic seemed to fit them. anyway i will stop rambling enjoyyy x

➽ words: 600 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: slightly mean!jake, dacryphilia, pet names (doll, kid), p in v

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

“Daddy…” the half mewl, half-whine you let out wasn’t lost on Jake, who, whilst couldn’t quite see your face, immediately perked at the name that will never cease to send blood shooting straight to his cock. He didn’t know how there was any blood left in his body, his erection so hard it was painful, twitching and throbbing, begging for your tight little cunt to wrap around him, to milk him 'til the last drop, 'til his seed was forever imprinted on your walls. But now wasn’t the time - patience is a virtue, one Jake has had to learn in time, in his 43 years on Earth and maybe even more so here, on Pandora. You weren’t ready. You were so small - too small -, a tiny, ineffectual human who somehow managed to pull him away from the life he’s built, with your beauty and your brains, with your inquisitive mind and your warm, inviting heart. You needed an orgasm, or three, to get your pretty pussy ready for him, for him to breed you like he envisioned and give into his worst, most delirious fantasies.

So here you were, after your third orgasm, still pouncing vigorously on his leg, that was glistening even in the dim light peering through the curtains, the sound of your moans, mingled perfectly with the slapping of skin on skin, enough to drive him into a frenzy.

“What’s wrong, doll? Tell daddy what’s on your mind.”

The hands rested forcefully on either one of your hips, pressing your swollen folds to his lustrous, muscular, tensed thigh released their deathly grip on you, settling instead for a comforting caress of your abdomen, drawing circles into the plush of your skin.

“You’re being mean.”

Your sniffles spurred him on, cock dripping in pre-cum and spilling down his balls, and he found himself reaching for your armpits, twirling you around like one of those Barbies that you had hanging on your bookshelf, a keepsake of a life you’ll never have. You winced softly as you were placed back down on his lower abdomen, finding steadiness on his abs, marvelling once more, as you always found yourself doing, at his body that felt carved by Eywa herself, at his bulging muscles, at the way he was able to make your body scream and writhe in the fine line between pleasure and pain until you were a weeping mess, much like right now.

His thumbs were gentle as they wiped the tears from your face, but there was a smugness to him, a mischievous glint haunting his beautiful irises.

“Went a little too far now, did I, kid? D’you need to get fucked dumb on daddy’s cock now?”

You moaned in between pitiful nods, cunt desperate to be filled to the brim with him, the emptiness too overwhelming to be denied anymore. As he raised you once more, your heart fluttered, excitement coursing through your veins as he aligned his cock to your needy entrance. The tip was all you needed to feel stretched beyond belief already, and your head fell backwards, eyes shut in the desire that pushed to the side the pain when the reward was all you’ve ever wanted.

“That’s right - fu-uck! There you go, princess. Let daddy make it up to you, huh?"

You could think about the consequences of your actions tomorrow, but right now, all you can think about is him, and the next 3 orgasms he’d coax out of you before you’d inevitably pass out of exhaustion, cock drunk and satisfied, as always.

taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eyweveng @tiredwitch1113

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notroosterbradshaw · 7 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - five.two

word count: 6.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: you made it! this chapter has been the hardest and most involved to write to date. I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support and if you like it... please comment and reblog it! x

five.one

“I love you,” he smiled against your lips as raised your hips to grind against his. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel amazing,” his hips moved so slowly but you kept his lips against yours in hopes if he was concentrating on your kiss, he would keep it measured, he could keep it safe.

You'd forgotten how deep his voice could be in moments just like this. And it was so difficult not to get lost with him. Intentions clear, you couldn't resist because you wanted him just as desperately.

"Tell me you need more, love," his tongue lapped at your pulse, his teeth sinking into your skin, the linger of your perfume spurring him on further and you lost your fingers into his unkempt curls, your thumbs padding the soft beard that was growing in on his jaw, denying him was futile.

"Yes..." you answered finally and could fell his smile as he moved to kiss you.

"Lemme show you what you've been missing," he crawled to his knees, his anxious fingers pressing against the flesh of your thighs, creeping to your waist and tenderly sinking under the soft cotton of your undies, dragging them down slowly. His lower lip pulled into his teeth as he failed to slick back his grin. “And you’re so… wet. Look at your glistening, love... Have you missed me too?" he pushed away his boxer briefs before lowering himself to cage his arms around you, his cock resting at your entrance and teasing himself with your slick heat.

And he kissed you, he kissed you so thoroughly you felt like a teenager again as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your nails gripping into the thick ropes of muscle, gagging to keep him in your space. He hummed, pleased, against your lips, his tongue soft and probing against yours.

"Let me feel you, love," he said, a hand slinking between your legs and he grinned as he padded at your clit, and you whispered a litany of curses, begging for his long fingers, unable to withstand writhing beneath him.

"Your cock..." you begged as he nodded, wrapping his palm around his dick, coating the head in your arousal, mixing with his pre-cum. “Let me ride you, sweetheart,” you told him breathlessly, but that nagging voice in your mind wanted to keep him safe, and protected, and not aggravate anything. “If you think that will be okay?”

Like the cat that got the cream, he smiled and without effort, rolled your body, eagerly guiding his cock in deep. He inhaled sharply, hoping to even out his breath as his head fell back against the soft pillows. "Ride away, love. I just don't know how I'll last so let’s get rid of this so I can see all of you..." he admitted, rolling his hips to hit that sweet, precious place inside and you tried in vain to bite back the illicit sounds that were escaping you as he whipped off your tee (an old Navy top that you had adopted as yours during own of his first sleepovers all those months ago). You felt feral under his gaze. You had denied him for so long and while you just wanted to do right for his recovery, even without his medical clearance, you were as pent up as he was.

You couldn't bite back the hiss as he held your waist and watched you move and roll like the waves above him.

“Look at you...” his palms reached up to tug the ends of your hair, and he traced down your shoulder, massaging your scorching skin. He traced its blemishes, committing your beautiful body to memory and how giddy it was only he who saw you like this.

One hand secured on your hip, and you ground above him, his other hand palming your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, his gleaming teeth chewing his lower lip to blood... desperate not for this to be over before it began. "All mine," he reminded you with a growl. Maybe you weren't the only feral one...

It had been weeks since you'd been intimate. Since the night he left before -

Well frankly, before the night your lives turned on their heads.

You grasped his wrists, trusting him implicitly, forgetting all, his body proving it was under absolutely no duress and you couldn't hurt him tonight.

He knew your body like the lyrics of his favourite song, he was your keenest of student and always wanted to know what made you feel delirious. “You feel sooo goddamn good,” he drawled, the bliss in his rasp turning you on further - you were so drenched with desire for him, you'd missed how his powerful body could make you feel so fuckin' hot. “I’ve missed you, baby. Maybe holding back wasn’t such a bad idea…” he muttered incredulously, with a disbelieving huff as he raised his hips to meet yours. "Thatta girl, that's my beautiful girl."

You loved this man and were a team, even with all your faults, times just like reminded you just how perfect you fit together.

But there was no denying there were cracks in the foundations… and you both knew they couldn’t be fixed without more openness and honesty on both behalves. It scared you because you knew there was so much he was holding back from you and even though you were connected physically, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt so confused or distant from him.

You knew all the fear you were hiding from him too. In a few weeks, he'd be back at work. Even at his desk, but the gym was beckoning, his head was in the clouds, dreaming of when he could get back in the air.

And that terrified you most. Because if there was one thing that scared you above all else... it was the chance of losing him for good. Of never seeing him again. And knowing he was truly happiest when he was putting his body through the wringer with sustained force, speed and agility.

You didn't have that in you. It wasn't something you could pretend you were okay with anymore. You never thought you'd be scared for him. But he told you a million times he was safer in the air than he was with two feet planted on the ground.

But how was that true, when he came home to you batted, black and blue? He could have died!

Relinquishing a palm, he brought his long index and middle fingers to your mouth, groaning without abandon as you sucked without question, and he imagined your mouth wrapped around his cock, one of your immaculate specialities. How you could almost take every inch deep - “Get 'em nice and wet for me,” he instructed, as you did as you were told. With a pop, he took away his hand and tenderly opened you up to him, your slick and spit mixing against your thrumming clit. Desperate for friction… desperate to cum.

Every part of your body quaked from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. You couldn’t withhold the noises that seemed to be coming from the innermost primal part of you. The weight on your body was greedily welcomed and needed as your orgasm continued powering through you only to match the ferocity of the man under you, his dreamlike features gleaming in a fine sheen of sweat as his body pummelled into you.

But the way you came, the tremors of your body shuddering against his as he cursed, driving his hips rough into yours and he came undone, your pussy milking his pulsating cock was all you needed at that moment. He tried in vain to drag your orgasm out, wanting to take every ounce from you as he held back moan and fucking the last of his spend in you.

He held you tight, reaching to kiss your brow as you lowered your body down on his, burying your face in his chest. His breathing laboured, body sated and he kissed you so gently he was scared you'd break. "I love you," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot across your face.

"I love you, Bradley. I love you so much," you told him as he wrapped you against him tight, still buried deep. He wasn't in a rush to pull out and you weren't in a rush to make him.

"I know, love. I know..."

It was the best you had been together in the weeks since Bradley had returned home. He was fit, happy, and on your lunch break home for a quiet bite, he’d wrangled afternoon delight twice this week, and he honestly couldn’t be prouder of himself. Things were looking up for both of you. You’d confided to him you had been considering moving to the next step of your business, you wanted to add to the facilities. Maybe an infrared sauna, maybe put in a little cafe' arrangement which could mean more staff as well.

It was small but things cost money and you were a swim teacher by trade, it didn’t leave you bathing in gold by any stretch of the imagination. You wouldn’t claim in the slightest to know about loans, equipment purchases and the like, but you were keen to learn. You knew it would be a question of cash and possibly looking to get buy-in from a partner, but you had ideas, and Bradley was only too keen to hear them.

Bradley had been so encouraging for you to expand. He was so happy for you and knew how well you could bring this idea to life. He mentioned adding a studio to the big back room that was just taking up old, mouldy pool stuff that really needed to be disposed of. “Do up the floors, don’t quote me on this as I say it because I’m probably saying it wrong, but a barre?” he frowned. “You could get all the rosé-drinking moms in for a song. Or maybe just put in a bar and let the wasps get liquored up while their kids learn to swim?”

Standing in the midst of moving boxes, everything was so close now. Tomorrow, the removalists were going to come and pack up your little apartment for you to start your lives together in that old Bradshaw place. The apartment was a bit of a disaster and Bradley's need for neat starting to grate him a little. You'd dragged your feet a little, for a small apartment, and you had a lot of stuff, you protested - nik naks from travelling that you weren't quite ready to relinquish just yet but you'd be pushed tomorrow, whether either of you liked it or not.

Your laughter was interrupted by Bradley’s phone ringing. “That sounds incredibly unsafe, but I don’t hate it…” you admitted from behind your Mac. Pintrest was far more exciting than boxing up your shit, that was for sure! He winked and said it was work, he’d take it in the other room.

Grunting, before straightening and answering, “Cyclone, sir,” he said, meandering into the bedroom and closing the door after him. You were always a little turned on when he was suddenly Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Your goofy man had some distinctive personalities but that one you like... a lot.

With another slight setback with his recovery, while his body felt fine, CT scans still showed some minor trauma that doctors were concerned about but were monitoring but happy for him to head back for some solid desk duty. Not as exciting for Bradley, he hated paperwork as it was but he'd take what he could get.

“Love, can we talk for a moment?” Bradley asked, reappearing a while later. You had closed your Mac and were packing some books into one of the many, many-made boxes Bradley had put together with the greatest of ease.

“’Course,” you said and grinned. “Please distract me from packing any way you see fit,” you tossed a book without thought into the box you were concentrating on with a thud and wriggled your brows, hopefully, he’d take the subtle hint. You felt kind of insatiable and Bradley would never knock you back. He gave a weak chuckle and he sat next to you, taking your hand and not meeting your eyes.

“My leave was extended.”

You frowned and also kind of smiled, the confusion evident all over your face. “But you just got medical clearance to return to desk duties next week...”

“Yeah, that was the initial plan,” he nodded, a grim look shrouding his handsome features.

“Bradley,” it was a statement, not a question. “What’s going on?”

He looked at you, and for the first time in weeks, his face was open. “I’m being stood down.”

“What, why?” you sat up as he slumped a little. You watched him rub his jaw, a trait of when he was nervous. You’d seen it a lot lately.

“Technically, I'll be on disciplinary leave with pay. I need to sit before a panel of superiors to determine if I… fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” he told you and chewed his lower lip. He inhaled sharply and you could see the confusion masking his features.

“Bradley.”

He looked up and prepared to tell you the whole story, knowing it could well hurt his career further… but his relationship more. “I haven’t told you the whole story of what happened.”

“No,” you agreed, he certainly had gone out of his way to deflect any time he could when it came to his unceremonious return. “You’ve been pretty good at leaving out the little details…”

“Problem is some details aren’t little. I need to tell you everything so you understand," he said softly.

“More than ‘uranium suicide mission’?” you asked him, timidly. "Because yeah. That was a bit fucking terrifying."

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, baby,” he acknowledged, knowing the worst was to come. “All of this wasn’t from just a carrier crash. The injuries, I mean. There were landing gear issues, but not from my jet. I was shot down after I left the squad to go back for Mav. I disobeyed direct orders multiple times, including from Mav himself.”

You remained silent. This was absolutely nothing like you were expecting. "I don't get it."

He said your name stone cold sober. “I knew what I was doing when I went back to help Mav. I ran outta flares in the dogfight – ”

“Dogfight, what?” you shook your head, disbelief washing over you. He’d seen real action? “Bradley, can you please start from the beginning? None of this is making sense …”

He nodded solemnly. “Love, we had two minutes and 30 seconds to make it to target and destroy the facility. Low, we had to avoid SAMs. But I was in my head the whole time, I was letting the team down. I was thinking about how dad died, that I probably wasn’t coming back to you…” he raised his eyes. “I froze. I'm probably lucky I didn't get me, or Payback and Fanboy, blown outta the sky in those first moments because I was so distracted from the job.”

He let go of your hand to brush his longer waves through his sweaty palm, but you remained quiet, dumbstruck, words were no longer on your tongue.

“I snapped the fuck out of it, just trying to remember that I would come back to you at any cost. And when Maverick made the first drop on target, it was incredible. But Fanboy had a laser malfunction, so I had to go and thank fuckin’ Christ I made that shot because if you asked me to do it ever again? I know there is no way I’d ever be able to.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in my body right now…” you said, stone-cold sober, your heart was racing – or maybe your heart had slowed. You weren’t sure. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”

“I know, love and I should never have kept this from you.”

“But you’re not done…”

He shook his head. “Nope. 9.5G climb out of the canyons, we had to try and avoid G-lock, slamming into mountains and SAMs again.”

“This sounds like something you see in a movie, not something you’ve been through, Bradley. God, I wish I didn't understand any of this," the tears welling in your eyes telling him the story.

“There ain’t no budget for this, love. Enemy jets were scrambled and – ”

“It was a dogfight,” you whispered.

“It was a dogfight. I did all I could, and then I was outta flares. Mav put himself between my plane and the enemy… and he was shot down. I made a judgement call and went to find him. I went back to look for Mav. That’s about the only thing I can’t explain. My brain couldn’t compute what would happen."

You laughed incredulously. “Bradley, it wasn’t like you were going to just be able to land your plane, pick little Mav up and sit him on your lap to bring him back to the boat,” you laughed even louder. The story was so ridiclous in your mind, but when he remained sober, you stopped laughing. “What?”

"You’re right, I couldn’t land my jet, pick Mav up and just head back to the boat…” he swallowed. “In a way, I suppose I knew I was probably going to die that day. The rest is so strange, I can’t get my brain to...” he added softly. “I can’t process it.”

"Tell me everything," he heard the gentle demand in your voice and what could he do?

He nodded. “Dropping blind, target achieved, sustained G’s. Smoke in the air, I was defending as best I could. SAMs on my six. It was fuckin’ chaos. I ran out of flares and Dagger One – Mav – was hit. I was ordered not to engage. I was requested back to the carrier by Command… Phoenix, Bob screaming at me. And I still went back. I defied direct orders and flew further back into enemy territory to find Mav.

“He was in the middle of God-knows-where. A snow-covered forest. I shot down a chopper to try and save him… and my plane was hit by a SAM as a result,” And he was quiet for a moment as you watched the grief that shrouded his face and while it devastated you… it only made you feel empty and confused. “I knew what I was doing – going back for Mav – he’s my family."

“You found Mav behind enemy lines,” you mumbled. You were numb.

“Yes.”

He watched as you wiped away the tears that he caused, and another kind of devastation washed over him. “Then what?”

“Mav found me. He berated the fuck out of me for coming back for him. I wish I could say I was making it up, what happened next... We found an F-14 in a hangar, and I guess all the gods were on our side, because how that piece of shit could take off on a crated runway, even with Mav piloting, still keeps me up at night.”

He watched as your tired face tried to take in his words. He moved to crouch before you, his strong palms wrapping around your calves. Your eyes followed him, but they didn’t appear to see him. “This is the most bullshit I’ve ever heard. I’ve never heard a story go to such ridiculous lengths,” you bubbled up a laugh as he remained stoic.

Stoic but maybe hurt. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he confided quietly. “I honestly don’t know how I’m sitting here with you right now,” he said, his eyes welling. “I’ve never seen action like that in my entire time in the Navy. Mav said since he hadn’t either. These enemy jets, fifth-gen, they’re just unlike anything anyone has seen – ”

“So, the official story of you, singular, crashing onto the carrier was just some bullshit to get me to go to sleep each night?” you asked, voice flat. He nodded, numbly. “You crashed the F-14, with you as Mav’s passenger.”

“Yes.”

“You lied.”

“I lied because I had to. To protect you.”

The way you raised your eyes to him told him that it may have protected him before, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to protect him now. “You need to tell me everything. I don’t give a flying fuck if the CIA has this place bugged, but if you don’t start being honest with me… we have a real problem on our hands.”

“I will tell you everything, love and I’m sorry that I didn’t do it sooner… I just – I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You left every piece of the puzzle out that made the difference. I thought your jet had a fucking landing gear failure! But now it all makes perfect sense…” your words stung to say aloud as you pushed his scalding palms off your skin.

“It’s not like that – ”

“It’s exactly like that,” you moved to stand, you needed to get away from him and he stood too.

He said your name. “Please.”

“Please what?” you sniped. “Please get my head around this immediately to make you feel better about thinking you’re protecting me? Do you not know who you’re talking to? This is my blood too, Bradley. I get how this bullshit works – trust me, I wish I didn’t… but I get it.”

“I know you do and that’s why I couldn’t tell you,” he said evenly. “I feel terrible that I’ve kept this from you.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry you feel bad that you had to keep this from me and it ended up hurting you," you voice was laced in childish sarcasm

He remained silent as you clipped him harshly. But you were just tired. Wholeheartedly could lay in your bed and sleep for a year and it wouldn't make you feel any less exhausted.

You took in the boxes around you, your small little apartment ready to be moved tomorrow into the big Bradshaw house and it dawned on you that you were nowhere near finished. There were mere hours left and you silently stood to start taking the photos off your wall. Finding the bubble wrap as your mute boyfriend watched.

Not a word was said but he sighed and started to help you.

"Just be careful with the photos, they mean something to me," you muttered as he nodded gently.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, reaching for the photo of you and his mother first. It meant the most to him, it was probably the most special photo he'd seen that didn't belong to him. He'd already earmarked a place in the bedroom where it would reside... right on his bedside table. He couldn't lob it in with the other frames and silently walked it to his keys and sunglasses. He'd take it with him personally. "Do you want some water or something?"

"No."

"Okay," he said softly. He didn't really want anything either and continued to help you considerately take the photos from the wall and wrap them, the box marked FRAMES in his scrawl in loud red marker.

Bradley had walked out about half an hour earlier. You couldn't blame him; the apartment was a war zone and he had enough PTSD for the both of you. It was a fight, destruction was all around you and you still had so much to say, but the fate of tomorrow wearing you down as you struggled to pack.

"I'm back," he said a while later, quiet and lethargic. And you'd normally ask what he'd been up to, but you just couldn't be bothered; and honestly, you simply didn't care. Your brain was working overtime, his confession had...

It had rattled you. It had destroyed you. You felt betrayed, alone, and lied to was the tip of the iceberg.

"I got some food," he sighed at your lack of reply, stepping into the kitchen and carefully taking the spoons from your palms and putting them on the bench. "Have some food, huh?" he offered, taking a seat beside you on the floor and pressing a kiss into your temple. You allowed it but showed absolutely no reciprocation.

And it hurt his heart because he knew what was happening here. He was witnessing you shut down before his eyes and it was terrifying.

"Do you want some pad thai?" he asked through the blood pumping through his ears. You barely shook your head, just stared before you. "I know I hurt you."

"Nope, I don't think you know how you've hurt me."

"I lied to you," he said simply.

"For weeks I've walked around on eggshells around you while you battled with whatever was going on in your head," you said so evenly it unnerved him. "The crash, Mav, not letting me be there for you. I feel like a no-one to you."

Dropping the container in his hand, Bradley moved to his knees and grasped your jaw softly in his rough palms. "You are everything, love."

"Bradley..."

"Love?"

You raised your eyes to him. "If you weren't going to trial, would you have told me any of this?" It was all you really needed to know and from his place before you in the cramped, messy kitchen, he dropped his gaze.

"Probably not, no."

It stung. It stung horribly. "Okay," was all you could say.

"I would have kept up the lie to protect you and I'd probably do it again if I needed to."

"You know my deal breakers since day one, Bradley," you were so small. You were so hurt.

He nodded, sitting back down on his heels. He didn't feel much like eating now either. He watched you put your head in your hands and God if you were crying, he would hate himself more than he already did.

So Bradley did all that felt right. He continued packing around you. He didn't know what else to give you at that moment. And he was sure as shit that if he laid a hand on you... you'd probably push him away further.

"I'm so angry at you," you said a little while later. Bradley had taken up a spot in the living room, collecting various ornaments and items and he could be the first to admit he was relieved to hear your voice for the first time in hours.

"I know, love. I'm angry at me too," he admitted, sitting on the armrest of the couch. Both were equally spent, it was like you'd gone 12 rounds and there was clearly no winner. “We’re not doing so well, kid."

"We're in a bad spot," it was the first time you'd agreed the whole night.

"What do you need for me to make this right?" he asked low.

"I dunno," you told him. "I never thought I could feel like this."

And what was worst for Bradley was that it was because of him.

You rubbed your face, you were so tired and struggling between the boxes in the kitchen - the place where you spent most of your time together. And you cursed the amount of shit you'd collated over the years to move into what Bradley probably had one of as well and threw a pot back in the cupboard with a crash. You'd been in relative silence since

“You chose Mav over us, Bradley. And it almost killed you,” the evenness in your voice, not the slightest waiver of emotion, scared you. The anger that was bubbling under the surface was all that was driving you and that scared you more.

He remained silent.

“You made me one promise, Rooster,” you reminded him and Jesus if he hated when you called him that. He was your Bradley. The way you had disconnected from him so quickly was frightening.

“I know, I don’t need reminding, from you, Mav, or the fucking Navy that I did the wrong thing,” Bradley muttered. “I saved his life.” But he said it was only him who needed convincing.

“You almost killed yourself in the process.”

Silence again. That pit that Bradley could have always done better was pulsating in your brain and it was clouding everything else.

“You don’t love me,” you accused quietly. “You were going to leave me. Willingly die for Mav.”

The way Bradley's face contorted as he bit back the venom on his tongue. He'd never felt so insulted. You could have said anything else to him, but questioning how he felt for you just seemed to go beyond the line. Especially when he'd never given you a reason to ever question his devotion to you.

“All I fucking thought about was you,” he hissed your name repeatedly until you met his gaze. “Don’t you get it? I know I fucked up. I know you’re betrayed and hurt. But I know if it was me, Mav would have done the same thing.”

“Of course, he’s got 20 years of grief to amend for,” you replied, sourly though pointed. "I'd expect it from him."

God, your whip of the tongue never seemed to amaze him. “Don’t you dare say another word,” Bradley told you in a tone you’d never heard of but froze you to your bones. He needed to shut you up.

He silenced you, and you were relieved, you finally got it all out. Said what had been on your chest since he told you what really happened in the air that day.

“You love doing that, being everyone’s saviour. Mine, Mav’s and anyone else that comes along.”

“Watch yourself.”

“You just can't help yourself.”

He was so close to exploding. “Yeah, and I fucking would do it all again,” Bradley almost yelled, his blood pressure rising. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t about you and me. You’ll never understand the history Mav and I have.”

“Well, no, I only know what you tell me and all of that seemed pretty fucking horrible. How else did you want me to react? This was your narrative, I just stupidly believed it.”

He crossed the maze of boxes steadfast and pulled you into his arms before you had another chance to recoil. “I love you, please understand that. I want to be with you,” he whispered in your ear.

"And?" you said, cold as ice.

“Please tell me you still love me," he said and you almost felt sorry for him. You looked up at him, his eyes telling the story. The fear of what he’d been through, what you were going through together, and what that could mean…

“That’s the problem. I think I love you too much.”

“That will never be a problem for me,” he confided. “Ever.”

“Maybe not... but I gotta love me too, Bradley.”

He kissed your hair. “Love…” he raised your eyes to his, kissing you. “I know you’re protecting yourself because you’re scared – ”

“I’m scared that you almost died, and it can happen every time you leave me. Not just deployments, every single time you get into your jet. I’ve never lost anyone the way you did… but I almost did and worse, because it was you. And that’s fucking terrifying.”

“I know, baby. But I’m here,” he tried to protest.

“You were reckless."

"I know - "

"I can’t trust you, Bradley."

He kissed you again, so softly. “Please do not question my loyalty. It’s the only thing I know for sure.”

You waited a bit but your final stand was so close. “Well, you got a father figure back out of it at least even if it was at my expense.”

Bradley only made a sound. The shock was palpable.

“Well, you don’t think this is a deal breaker for me?”

“What are you talking about, who are you? Do I even know you?”

“I am never going to be jealous of the Navy, it has pretty much destroyed any trust I have in men… and giving you a chance was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” you accused yourself, more so him. It was all coming so full circle and you knew Bradley was seeing the writing on the wall.

“You’re the dirtiest fucking fighter I’ve ever met,” he said quietly.

“No one else is going to protect me, Bradley, so I have to.”

“No, you want to be left at arm’s length and pick and choose when you want to be loved.”

“I’ve never been desperate for it.”

“No,” He agreed. “Definitely not,” he sniped. “Only when you choose.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you rolled your eyes.

"What? You can go below the belt, but am I just to stand here and take it? You're full of shit, baby. I ain't taking this without a fight."

"I don't have any fight left. I've been fighting with myself since you got home. Trying to figure out how to be all you need and want and it hasn't been enough. You've gone through a trauma that you wouldn't share with me and expected me to just be okay with it all as you pushed me away, and used me as you felt fair to you? And that I'd be fine because your job called you out on it and the truth had to come out sometime?"

"Please - " Bradley begged. “Don’t do this. Don't talk like this, love…”

“I’m going to take some time and see if this is really what is best for us… for me. I can't move in tomorrow. I'm sorry."

Standing and trying not to wince, he asked, “Who says you get the fucking choice?”

“You know why I do. You need me more than I’ll ever need you.”

He laughed incredulously, whipping his hand through his mussed curls. “That is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I took care of myself just fine since everyone left me. In fact, you’re right, I was doing a fuckload better without you. Maybe I don’t need you.”

“But you do. And you’re getting angry because of how true that is.”

“You’re a real piece of work, huh?” he sniped, going to the liquor shelf and pouring himself a glass that he tossed back in a couple of gulps.

“Don’t do that, it’ll mess up your pain meds,” you warned.

“You don’t get a say on how badly I continue to fuck up my life, okay? Not tonight," he casually reminded you. "You've lost that privilege."

“I can’t bear to see you get hurt, why don’t you understand that?”

“All over it,” he muttered, pouring a second glass. “You’re articulating yourself incredibly well,” he enunciated. "You should be very proud of yourself."

“Bradley, please – ”

“Don’t fucking tell me what you think is best for me,” he hissed as you raised your hands, taking a step back. “You want to break us like that,” he snapped his fingers and slammed the thick-bottomed tumbler on the bench. “Not me. I came back, just like I always promised I would. I’m standing here before you, watching while you destroy us. Because you cannot be satisfied. Nothing makes you happy; it��s why you run. It’s no big secret.”

“Bradley, please.”

“Bradley, please, what?” he fired back incredulously. “I love you, I don’t want to break up. But I’ve learned more about you and how your fight tonight than I ever thought possible. If you don’t want to be with me, say it, so I can just go,” he added the last part sadly.

“I am scared I’m going to lose you anyway,” you said admitted.

“Well, you’ve pushed me so far away from you, I dunno what else you want now. You can’t go back on a lot that you’ve said.”

You nodded solemnly. He was right.

“And you certainly can’t take it back,” he said finally.

You met his eyes, and his rejection was palpable. But you didn’t want to take it back. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need.”

He sighed, rubbing his tired, his oh so tired eyes. The problem was… you were everything he needed and it still wasn’t enough. “Is there any way we can get past this?” he asked finally, and you met his eyes.

“I don’t know,” and when you sighed. He knew. You both knew.

There wasn’t. Everything was irrevocably broken and to get back to a place you were side-by-side? Neither of you could see it.

"Okay," Bradley said in finality because honestly, he had nothing else to say and no one else would understand what a car crash tonight had turned into as he grabbed his car keys. The silence had swallowed you both and there was no coming back from it. “Well, I guess I’m gonna take off,” Bradley said, the words so strange on his lips and you nodded because what else was there now?

The box of Bradley's stuff you’d boxed up was gone about a week later with his apartment key was left in its place on the bench. It all seemed so final; you couldn’t believe how you’d let something so good slip away from you but you’d both broken your promises. You’d both seen to the end of this beautiful thing. You both deserved so much better… and maybe it was with someone else.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

And the biggest thank you for @gretagerwigsmuse for taking the time to read, review and be the most best constructive friend assisting with this chap x

#notroosterbradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fluff #rooster smut #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradsaw x reader

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featherandferns · 1 year

Text

you find out (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | part of the F.W.B universe, but can be read as a stand-alone

content warning: abuse; mentions of drug use/abuse; mentions of sex

word count: 2k

Blurb: you find out about JJ's tumultuous relationship with his dad one night.

Within a split second, your body registers the feeling of the bed dipping, the covers shifting, and the brief brush of something cold on your shin. All of this jolts you awake, eyes shooting open to face the wall. Heart pumping adrenaline. The pressure of a hand on your shoulder does little to ease your anxiety until you hear his voice.

“Just me,” JJ sighs. You exhale with relief and relax back into the covers, eyes closing once more.

“You scared the crap outta me,” you mumble back.

“Sorry,” he grunts. He’s wriggling around, trying to get comfortable, and you turn over in the darkness. Your eyes are still shut. Naturally, you begin to worm yourself into his presence, tangling your legs amongst his and burying your head against his chest. JJ laughs and you feel his body shake with it. “You’re like a Goddamn koala.”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

The two of you had an affinity to become soft and simp-like when tired. Secretly, you loved it.

One of his hands comes to your back, slipping underneath the cotton of your top and stroking your skin. You smile and sigh against him.

“I missed you today,” you tell him against his bare skin.

“Missed you too,” JJ replies in a gravelly voice.

“Are we becoming that gross couple that’s always attached at the hip?” you worry, only half-joking.

JJ laughs. “Can’t be any grosser than John B and Sarah. You know they have little pet names for each other? Vlad and something.”

“Gag.”

The two of you laugh quietly. Sleepily. JJ’s chest smells of saltwater, suncream and the remnants of sweat. His skin’s turning warm from the cocoon of sheets that he’s made his way into. You rub your foot against his inner calve and nuzzle against him. JJ silently chuckles, another hand coming up to pet your hair.

“Where were you today?”

“Had to do something,” JJ ominously tells you.

“Is that code for murder?”

“Sometimes. Not right now, though,” he replies. “How was training?”

“Hard,” you reply through a yawn. “There’s a match in a couple of weeks though. You gonna come?”

“Course,” he says. With that, he plants a kiss to your forehead. “How come you’re at the chateau tonight? I didn’t know if you were gonna be here.”

“Went surfing with Kie and John B after training, and we sorta just ended up here. It got late and I just decided to crash. Wasn’t sure if you were gonna be here either.”

“We need to text each other more,” JJ points out, making you laugh.

You shift so there’s a bit more space between you and then half-open your eyes. The room’s pitch black and you can barely make out the silhouette of JJ’s face. You know his presence well enough to be able to pin where his lips are though. You press a kiss against them. JJ doesn’t let you pull back. He moves the hand that was playing with your hair to cradle your jaw, keeping you against him. Both of you are too tired to have sex, but you have just enough left in the tank for a half-asleep make-out. Lazy and lavish. As you go to kiss at his jaw, one of your hand slips around his side, letting your fingers and blunt nails lightly dig into his flesh, just like usual. What's unusual is the way JJ flinches, suddenly hisses (as if uncontrollable), and pulls back on reflex. The moment he does, you get this feeling that he didn’t mean to. This only spurs you on more to pull away and sit up, face contorted in concerned confusion. You try fumbling around for the lamp’s light switch. JJ starts protesting immediately.

“Baby, wait—” JJ’s saying, a little panicked, but you don’t let his hold on your arm stop you.

The light flashes on and you wince against it with a groan, blinking a couple of times to adjust. Turning around, you take in JJ’s face, and the sight makes you gasp.

“JJ, what the hell,” you gape.

You’ve seen your fair share of face wounds from boxing, on yourself and others - split lips and some discolouring around the cheek and eyes - but nothing like this. This is malicious and spiteful, done with something more than intent.

JJ’s looking away from you, his expression somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed.

You go to reach out a hand and take his face, as if needing to check the bruises are real, but he’s pulling away from your reach.

“What the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing. Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, looking around the other bedside table for something. Probably his vape or papers.

“JJ.”

“It’s just from some dumb fight with some Kooks or something,” he barely says, still not meeting your gaze. Mhm.

“Or something?”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll put some cream or something on it in the morning.”

Sarcastically, you agree, “yeah, that’s what you need. Cream.”

He finds his vape but decides against it, going to look for his bud and papers to roll. You know why: it’s not gonna hold his attention long enough to have an excuse not to look at you. You sit back atop of your folded legs and cross your arms. Your eyes have fully adjusted now and you’re wide awake. Whatever softness the two of you had been in before has long gone, and you’re not going back to sleep until you know why JJ looks like a rip-off Picasso painting of a starry night.

“Why won’t you tell me?” you ask him.

JJ pauses in his search.

“It doesn’t matter, okay?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Why does it matter so much to you that I tell you?” JJ huffs, becoming annoyed. You watch as his shoulders begin to tense, the muscles flexing.

“Because I haven’t seen you all day, only for you to show up black and blue,” you tell him, irritated. Then, softer, you add, “and I’m worried about you.”

“Why’s it always about you?”

“What?”

JJ sits back, abandoning his search, and goes on, glaring at you. “It’s always about how everything’s effecting you. What? Cause you get your way a lot, you think you deserve the answers to everything? You’re a spoilt brat sometimes, you know that right?”

Maybe in another situation, his words would hurt. You’d worry if there was some truth – that maybe that was why your exes had left you and had done what they did. But as he talks, all you can look at is the cut on his lip and how it’s threatening to break open again into a bleed, and how the bruising around his eye is making it swollen. The strange beauty of the colours: blotchy purple and orange and brown.

Keeping your temper level, you calmly shake your head. “You can’t try and stir up the pot between us to get out of talking about this.”

JJ briefly meets your gaze before looking away and down at his hands. He messes with one of his rings. It’s now that you have enough strength to pull your focus from his face and to his chest. To the reason that he flinched away, giving up his secret. The sight of the marks – red and pink, some tinges of blue – scattered across his body, probably from someone kicking or punching him, makes your eyes water. You bite on your lower lip to keep it from trembling. That means he was on the ground at some point. Somebody had enough strength and power over him to get him on the ground. Funny how half your life is spent in purposeful violence, but the sight of wounds like this, on someone you care about, catches you off guard in the worst of ways. It doesn’t put you off fighting, though. If anything, it spurs you on.

“Who did this, JJ?” you ask, firmer.

He looks you in the eye at your change of tone. Maybe he can read your face, see your intentions, because he starts shaking his head.

“It’s not like you can do anything about it, alright?”

“Who says?” you shrug.

“Baby, I’m asking you to let it go. Please,” JJ implores. His voice cracks. Jaw tenses, like he's holding back.

His gaze is all over the shop: your eyes then his hands, then the window and the door. You follow it. When he looks at his hands, fiddles with his rings, you notice how they're shaking. He’s shaking.

The moment of vigilante is gone. It feels as if you’re seeing a different part of JJ. Vulnerable and raw; his silly, cocky, energetic facets of personality stripped away. You’ve only ever seen him like this once. Well, heard him, to be more accurate. In the bathroom, at the party, where you both agreed to give this relationship a shot.

Shuffling nearer, you move to straddle his lap (careful of his bruises), hoping it might help ground him. He doesn’t push you off. Instead, JJ places his hands on your hips, a thumb stroking over the bone. Your hands find place on your thighs. You lean forward and press your forehead against his, making a point to close your eyes. JJ shakily exhales.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

His head shakes from side to side, ever so slightly. “It’s not okay,” he barely makes out. Your stomach constricts like a boa.

You bring a hand up to his hair and gently rake your fingers through some of the strands, and something about your touch makes him break.

JJ starts crying.

He drops his head against your shoulder, body shaking from the sobs. You’ve never seen him cry before. Never been able to picture it. JJ didn’t get upset; he just got angry. But this was the hidden layer, buried behind humour and anger and aggression. The thing he seemed to try and keep six feet under. His arms come up to wrap around your body, pulling you nearer, and you bite at your lip to save yourself from crying too, folding your arms over his shoulders. You swaddle him in your presence, let him cry against you. You whisper things into his ear, somewhere between sweet-nothings and soothes. The lump in your throat never leaves.

“It’s not his fault,” JJ gasps against you.

You don’t know what he means but don’t force anything. You just keep holding him.

“I know,” you say softly, hugging him tighter.

“It’s not his fault. He…He has a problem and…If I was better than it wouldn’t happen…”

You shake your head but don’t speak. You’re not sure if you can. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. It’s as resistless as a sheet of ice.

“He loves me. I know he does. I know he does. I know…”

His chest is rising and falling too quickly now and you have to pull away. His eyes are clenched shut and he can’t breathe. The panic of this realisation only makes it worse. You take his face in your hands and shush him, coaxing him to listen to you.

“You gotta breathe, okay baby? You've gotta breathe.”

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s alright. Just focus on breathing, okay?”

JJ’s mumbling still. How he doesn’t understand. How he doesn’t get it. How he just has to do better. Why can’t he be better?

The whole time, you’re counting aloud. Giving instructions. Trying to block out the tears, the pain, from his words. In - one, two, three. Out - one, two, three. In…

Somewhere, somehow, he listens. At first, it’s useless. His panicked gasps interrupt his measured breathing, and he almost spirals again. But then he seems to find some new determination. His fingers press into your waist, a little tight but you’re not going to complain, and JJ tries again. Eventually, it mostly levels out, and the panic attack has subsided. You press your forehead against his again and move to take his hands into yours, interlocking your fingers together. You stay like that for a long while.

In that time, JJ stops crying and you let your own tears silently fall. You press a chaste kiss to his lips. His breathing mellows out into tired, steady inhales and exhales. It’s then that you feel it’s safe enough for you to ask.

“It’s your dad, isn’t it? The ‘ugly’ thing you were scared to tell me about; the thing you mentioned at the party,” you whisper.

JJ stills. His breathing temporarily halts. You feel the reluctant nod of his head.

Face warping into a deep, sad smile, you let some more tears fall. A smile, because whilst it kills you to know the truth – and one that painful – it’s also somewhat of a relief to know. Know why he does the things he does and why he never wants to go home. Why he’s never invited you to meet his parents or crash at his, and why – right from day one of knowing you – he’s been at the chateau. Why he’s currently black and blue.

You press another kiss to his lips.

“I’m staying, JJ,” you reassure him.

Before you can pull away, he places a hand on the flat of your back and pulls you back, kissing you firmly. I’m staying.

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mashiraostail · 3 months

Note

"You know I love you right?" With aizawa please !!!! maybe pining reader instead of established relationship?

yurrr!!!!! i figured you wanted SFW bc you didn't specify otherwise, if not resend and I shall re do :3

At its best hindsight tends to offer a lot of useful illumination, though at its worst it is able to make everyone look like an oblivious idiot.

Truth be told Aizawa isn't sure what comes over him, he's level headed, he tends not to worry even at the worst of times. He knows this is your job, he knows better than anyone how badly you can get hurt doing this sort of work. You're no stranger to bumps and bruises, and usually that thought puts him at ease. He isn't sure, maybe the way you hit that building looked nasty, the way you let out a gurgled sort of half grunt half sob as you hit the ground, the way you held your ribs as you rolled over onto the pavement, or the way the rock of the building crumbled and fell to the ground around you...any of those things could have made his stomach churn. He certainly isn't heartless, he feels remorse every time someone is hurt in a fight, he feels worry too, though usually not so intensely. You were good friends too, Hizashi was always trying to tell Aizawa you were sweet on him, he didn't see it himself but he would be lying if he didn't preen a bit at the thought.

He wasn't considering that now though, and he wasn't considering the drinks you'd had together the night before, the way you leaned over the table to talk to him, the way Hizashi kicked him underneath it when your hand brushed his wrist, or the way you lingered at your door after they walked you home. The realization dawned on him as he and Hizashi walked home, maybe he did care for you, that same realization was cast aside the moment catastrophe struck and hadn't been considered since. All he was thinking about now was your eyes, the way you laughed at his dry and somber jokes, the subtle kick in your step, your hair, the softness of your skin every time you found a reason to touch him, and the way you said his name.

"Holy shit that looks like it hurt." Nemuri materializes beside him somehow, maybe she had always been there, but is just now choosing to snap him back to Earth. "Should we go get them?"

Aizawa looks between you, Nemuri, and the retreating villain. You hadn't gotten up, you were still curled onto the ground, he could see you rubbing your head with one hand, the other cradling your ribs. "You get them, I'll handle this. Send anyone else you find my way."

He regrets it the moment he says it, as soon as he turns away from your body on the street his stomach lurches painfully.

"Are you sure?" Nemuri blinks at him, "you look...different than usual. I can handle the villain, I'm sure Vlad and the others are kicking around out there somewhere."

"I'm sure." What he isn't sure about is why he can get it out that he wants to stay with you.

"Just..come with me to check them out."

Nemuri was a lot of things, most pointedly she was intuitive. He gets to you before she does.

"Are you alright?" He puts a hand on your shoulder and you roll over.

"Shota," You squint at him, like the sunlight burns your eyes, you probably have a concussion. "I've been better. I'll live, go deal with that freakshow."

He doesn't want to, for the first time in a long time he feels...petulant, like a child, he wants to hold firm to his spot, to stay glued to you until you make it to a hospital. But his brain is telling him to turn and go like always, to entrust you to his colleague and go where he's needed, just like he would for anyone else.

"Can you stand?" Nemuri's voice spurs him on, he nods as if to leave, but he can't help but linger on you.

"Shota they need you." You urge him away. Something sits in his throat, he can't swallow it down, nor can he spit it out, and it's heavy it makes his face feel warm. Between that and the way you look he has no choice but to linger, "I-" and it starts to crawl out, but it's pulled back down to the pit in his stomach just as quickly and twice as painful.

"Shota it's going to be okay." Nemuri is checking you out, poking and proding for breaks or blood. Your voice is weak and gravely, the pain had made you cry, he could tell from the clean streaks on your otherwise dirty face, but you said his name with so much care and earnest, as if he was the one laying broken on the pavement.

"I'll come find you as soon as this is over. Call me, text me where you're heading." By the grace of some higher power he can tear his eyes away from you long enough to shoot off into the distance, in the general direction of all the commotion.

It takes barely seconds for it to dawn on him. The way you looked up at him last night, the way you looked up at him just then. He thought about you, the things he always thought about, the way your neck curved smoothly to the delicate arch of your shoulder, the short and soft looking hairs on the nape of your neck and the way your fingers always found a way to them, tugging and twirling them as you thought. He realized this is probably what love feels like, that this had gone beyond a pleasant adoration..or a casual admiration of your figure. He could note small, minute things, things that should mean nothing to him if you didn’t. But these things made his heart get a little tighter in his chest. The way your eyes felt on him, the length of your eyelashes, the pout to your lip, and the seemingly perfect bridge of your nose, who else but a man in love would consider these things? He scoffs at himself, and decides to make the fight to come as quick as possible. If anyone notices his rushing they don't mention it.

When he finds you after the fact, just like he promises he would the feeling hits him like a wave, it is equally disorienting as it is eye opening.

"Shota, you came?" You seem surprised, to be fair he'd never come to you at a time like this before. He'd called and sent dinner to your room when you ended up in this sort of pickle before, but he'd never shown face and certainly not this quickly.

"I said I would."

"I figured you meant like..tomorrow?"

"How are you feeling?" He asks, because that was the other thing about you that was lovely, your voice, it was like whistling birds, like evening thrush, like melting honey, it was gooey and sweet and bright and warm like dark brown velvet and down feathers and perfect warm sunshine. It was nice to hear it normally, not gravelly or impaired with pain. He thinks about all the times he's called you with a question that could have been a text.

"I broke my ribs." You lean into the pillows, your middle was pretty heavily bandaged, your left arm was in a sling and you were littered with bandages, some already bleeding through. "I'm hopped up on pain meds though so I feel great. Say, are you alright? You seem flighty."

"I'm fine. I'm just..I was worried I guess. Looked like he really hurt you back there." He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, and though you look surprised at the sudden closeness you don't say anything. "I'm glad the damage isn't too bad."

"Me too." You nod, "thanks.."

You sit in silence for a while, he's looking down at you, like he's studying you, like he's never seen you before or like he'll never see you again. It wasn't an inquisitive gaze though, it was almost warm, appreciative even. He was looking to enjoy not to remember, it seemed like he already did.

"Shota, are you okay?" You ask again, "I'm not hurt so bad, you know I'm just drama-"

"Hey, you know I love you, right?"

You laugh, a nervous, fluttering noise. He realizes he even likes that. "I love you too Shota...we're good friends, thanks for taking care of me..."

"That's good..but I don't mean it like that. I know everyone is always giving you a hard time about me. I just...want you to know I feel the same way." He looks up to the corner where the ceiling meets the walls. "I didn't realize I was always..thinking it and never saying it. I'm in love with you. I want to...be with you. If I'm misunderstanding, tell me."

"You're...not." You feel warm, you're half way tempted to take of your heart monitor incase your pulse spiked or something. "I do love you. I figured you didn't feel that way. What brought all this on?"

"I don't know." He confesses, "i saw you last night, I guess it all dawned on me then and then I saw you get hurt and I...saw you." He shrugs, "I just realized I was always...looking at you, looking for you. I felt so worried when you got hurt." He's looking down at you again.

"It felt like I had left something unsaid, when you hit the ground and I assumed the worst..it was like my brain and my body were going separate ways and it all hit me at once. Like it was obvious this whole time." He shakes his head a bit, "I've probably loved you for a long time. It feels like I've been looking at you like this forever. I don't know why I didn't put it all together sooner."

You laugh again, confident now. "Me either." Your right hand reaches up to his shirt and you pull him downwards, "but I'm glad it all got sorted."

He's happy to kiss you, and happy to feel your hand on his face. It was a good kiss, warm and lingering. It spoke for itself, you were just as relieved with the feeling as he was, glad to have let it out in the open. You both felt 10 tons lighter from it.

"I hate to say I'm glad that villain hurled me into a wall." You joke, nudging his shoulder with your good hand.

"Don't say things like that." He scoffs, "when are you out of here?"

"I'm just waiting for some new bandages and wound wash." You shrug, "hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I'll come keep an eye on you." His hand is resting on your waist, his thumb dragging up and down your stomach.

"You don't have to go to the trouble. I can-"

"I want to. " He cuts you off, "I want to. Please let me come with you."

You preen a bit, "you wanna take care of me?"

In a moment of uncharacteristic earnest he nods, "I want to stay with you." He's glad to be free of the lump in his throat, and pit in his stomach.

"I guess I can't say no then."

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha hc #bnha x reader #sfw #eraserhead x reader #im ignoring nemuri's fate she has plot armor to me #bc i have a crush on her

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abiiors · 6 months

Text

red lines - pt. 1 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: i want you to read this very very carefully: i am pro-choice and i will always be pro-choice. and this is a work of fiction. also feel the need to add that this is more a collection of small vignettes??? ugh idk, hope you enjoy regardless cw: *deep breath* angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of vomit, (and other pregnancy symptoms), crying (so much of it my god) and arguments, mentions of smoking, illness, hospitals, panic attacks, reader has a good relationship with her mother so i guess that's a cw too, (most definitely inaccurate) descriptions of birth. wc: 4.6k

two red lines is all it takes to ruin a perfect life.

two red lines repeated twice on two different tests that stare back at you from the counter—innocent and white and damning. the bathroom is utterly still, save for the tap dripping one drop every seven seconds. you would know, you counted it, used those seven seconds to ground you and stop you from spiraling into another panic attack for the three minutes it took to get those two red lines.

pregnant.

with two more weeks left on tour by matty’s side.

gingerly you wrap them in toilet paper, make sure they’re safe and secure and nothing’s peeking out. you throw it in the bin, looking at it with a deadness on your face that you feel deep inside. then you call the reception and ask them to take out the trash.

matty isn’t here. he’s on stage, serenading thousands of people who hang on to every single word he says, looking at him with all the love and adoration in the world. matty, your matty, who belongs as much to you as he does to the people, the fans. you should have been there too but there was the migraine and the nausea that wouldn’t go away. so you told him you would just sleep it off tonight.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg. and then a sweet kiss and a promise to see him tomorrow.

and then the two red lines.

every time you blink you see them flash in front of you—like a promise or a warning. or maybe even a sentence.

pregnant.

a baby.

a cause for happiness and celebration.

and the conversation from a week ago that lingers in your mind, echoes inside your skull as if those words are the only ones you remember.

i’m just not ready love, he says, not now. maybe not for another year or two. i don’t know, babies are a lot of work. and i am a lot of work.

i love you, he says, kissing you deeply and tasting his own cum on your lips. i love you but a baby right now is a hard no.

nothing in particular spurred this conversation really—just the two of you, naked, and tangled up in the sheets, his hand caressing your lower stomach and you letting yourself daydream. who knew the daydream was indeed reality? and now here you are, head in your hands—partly from the migraine, partly from the anxiety—waiting for him to be back.

he will change his mind, you know it. matty loves you, and this baby is half you, half him. he will come around and you will be there to soothe his worries. you know he will hear the baby’s heartbeat and fall in love.

you know he will treat them like the most precious thing in the whole world.

the thought makes you smile and the door creaks open.

“pregnant,” he looks at you warily, “what do you mean pregnant?”

the small smile on your face fades away. “pregnant with a baby, matty. what other kind of pregnant is there?”

you wonder if you meant to joke, if he will break character and laugh and everything will be okay again. maybe you just caught him by surprise, this is just a blip. in two more minutes, he will smile and drop down to his knees and kiss your still-flat stomach. he’ll say hello to them. tell them he loves them and then tell you how much he loves you, kissing you gently and pulling you into him.

you can already feel his feather-light touch on your skin. his mouth lingering on your lower stomach on his way down.

matty stills in place.

“no…”

one word, it’s small and broken and so unlike him that you almost do a double-take.

“what do you mean no?”

“i can’t okay?” his voice rises, “i told you i can’t!”

you can sense the agitation he feels, his hammering heartbeat and the shallowness of his breaths. his hands runs through his hair, spilling the curls everywhere.

“you’re on the pill.”

“i think…” you hedge, tears gathering in your eyes, “i think i missed a day.”

he snaps his head up to look at you. when matty first came back to the room, he looked happy and giddy—cheeks pink and hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. now he looks grey and listless. like all the colour’s been zapped out of him.

“you missed a day,” he repeats.

“matty, please…”

but matty is already turning around and storming off to the balcony. through the glass you watch him light a cigarette with shaky hands, taking a deep drag before he tips his head back and blows it out. another drag, another blow. eyes closed. breathing that slowly goes from rapid to normal once again.

five minutes later, only the stub remains and matty is back in the room.

“i can’t,” he says firmly. “i told you i wasn’t ready.”

it sounds final. like a death knell. instictively your hand covers your stomach.

“i won’t,” you shake your head and the tears fall rapidly, first down your cheeks then your chin and onto your chest. “i won’t get rid of it.”

matty stares at you quietly, you stare back. it seems you’re at an impasse.

twenty minutes later, you pack your bags.

london is greyer than it has ever been, especially from your new flat so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. not that you’ve had much time to get acquainted with the new area after being bent over the toilet for days on end, retching and heaving until there’s nothing left inside you. a hollowness so deep that no amount of food or water will fill it.

so you eat strictly for the baby. pre-natal vitamins and supplements and a nutritious breakfast that you throw right back up. but you try. all for the sake of the tiny clump of cells dependent on you. the image of the two red lines has long been replaced with a grainy black and white rectangle. every time you close your eyes, you see the screen lit up with an image of your little bean, moving around. in some far back corner of your mind, you think they look happy.

at night you curl up on your cold bed, phone in hand, the baby’s heartbeat playing on repeat. it used to be his, your brain reminds you painfully. back when you slept all cuddled up with him. head on his chest, his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

you mother is worried about you. she calls at least thrice a day to make sure you ate every meal and took every pill. she comes every sunday to stock you fridge full of vegetables and fruits and make sure you have enough ginger and peppermint tea. sundays, begrudgingly, become your favourite. your mother, once again, becomes your best friend.

but you can’t let her move in. can’t let her be a constant presence and drive you crazy and unearth him every chance she gets. so like clockwork, at 6 pm, you usher her out the door, tell her you need privacy and quiet and solitude. like every single time, she promises she’ll be back next sunday.

and every single time she keeps her word.

one day you wake up to a change—a small one, really, but a change regardless. barely even noticeable at first. it’s your top that doesn’t reach all the way down. maybe it shrunk in the wash, you think. then the full length mirror reminds you of the reality. and the tiny little bump that’s seemingly grown overnight.

your little bean. suddenly so real. so tangible. so present.

“hello, little one,” you coo at your stomach, feeling a little silly at first. there’s no reply, of course, just the sounds of morning traffic coming in from the open window. but your eyes stay trained on the bump. “you weren’t so noticeable last night.”

nothing happens. no movement (of course, not. they’re too small for that.), no one appreciating the change with you. matty who should have been here to witness this…

matty who isn’t here to witness this.

emotions swirl in your head so fast that it’s dizzying. this time there’s no tears falling one by one. there’s the sobs that come all of a sudden and the floodgates that open in the blink of an eye but he is not here to hold you or pull you into his chest when you gasp and gasp for a breath that never comes.

in a panic you dial the first number you can find in your contacts, gasping and yelling out broken sentences and panicking at whoever’s picked up. it’s 8 am on a wednesday, whoever you called must be utterly bewildered. yet when you can focus enough, you realise it’s a man’s voice replying. a familiar voice. shocked and equally panicked and asking you if you’re okay again and again.

you pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen. at adam’s name flashing on it.

the first contact on your list. one starting with an a.

“fuck,” you mumble. “sorry, i’m okay. i’m fine.” and then you hang up, and rock yourself back and forth on the ground until your breaths resemble something normal.

fifteen minutes later, there’s pounding at your front door and the bell rings incessantly. in your gut you know it’s adam. and it’s confirmed when his voice floats through the door.

“open the door,” he urges. “i need to know you’re okay.”

and so you pull yourself back up, harshly wipe away the tears and unlock the front door.

it’s only been a month since you last saw adam but he looks different. his hair’s grown out, his dark circles are gone and in spite of the worried look on his face, he looks happier somehow. healthier.

being back home with the love of your life and your baby will do that to you.

“you look well,” you croak out and then clear your throat. adam doesn’t take the bait.

“do you need me to take you to the hospital? call your gp?” straight to the point as always. you smile at him fondly.

“no, no i don’t. i’m okay, i promise.”

“you didn’t sound okay.”

“i meant to call my mum, adam. sorry i dialed the wrong number.”

“regardless,” he holds up a hand. “can you please talk to me. or talk to mat—”

“don’t.” the voice that comes out of you is stern. “he doesn’t want me or the baby. i will not let him talk me into an abortion.”

adam winces and rubs a hand over his face. perhaps that was harsh, you think, he’s not some evil villain. but none of it changes the outcome. in every single universe, you end up here—fresh off a panic attack in your living room, talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend.

“how did you know where i live?”

at that he looks a bit sheepish. “i asked you mum. not today!” he reassures hastily when your eyes widen. “don’t worry. i asked her a few days ago. i wanted to… i’ve been meaning to check up on you.”

“and you couldn’t call?” you smile at him wryly.

“no. i wanted to see you in person.”

“so you can report back to him?”

adam clicks his tongue and warmth fills your chest. he’s always been good to you, always been kind, and loved you like a little sister. you shouldn’t have cut him off like this.

“no,” he says. “so i could make sure you were okay.”

it’s a small mercy that the morning sickness eases a few days after that as your bump continues to grow. more often than not, you find yourself with a hand on your stomach, drawing small circles on it and humming to it. lately, you’ve also noticed the little flutters that linger long after you stop humming. your baby responding to you. showing you they’re there.

it’s not far before you approach the twenty week mark. the most important scan you’ll have throughout. you’ll find out the gender, you’ll find out if they’re healthy or not.

and each time you think about it, it’s like the weight of the entire world is on your shoulders.

the night before you contemplate calling your mum, nervous and panicked once again but it’s almost 11 pm. she would be deep asleep by now—she would be excited too. no need to put a damper on her mood.

then you wonder if calling adam is a good idea. but you quickly scrap it.

for the first time in months your finger hovers over the familiar name in your contacts. over the little heart that’s still next to his name that you never bothered to change.

what will he say if you called him now? will he even pick up?

are you ready enough to brave it?

the truth still remains. you want this baby, he doesn’t. the same impasse you were at months ago. if any of that had changed, he would have called you. he would have reached out… right?

so instead you do the second stupidest thing. you type up his name in google.

your stomach churns with nausea or anxiety or just impending doom while the webpage loads—slow, too slow for your liking. or maybe time has simply slowed down and you’re too much of a coward to really face the consequences of your own action.

the webpage loads. the frown on your face deepens.

nothing. rather, the last article written about him specifically is from two days after the tour ended. everything after that is either recycled news, or some silly quiz about the band. nothing about him. no pap photos, no social media activity. absolutely nothing to indicate he’s even left his house in the last few months.

you mind buzzes with all kinds of thoughts, swirls with wicked possibilities. you almost even text adam about it before the turning your phone off abruptly and chucking it to the other side of the bed.

no more temptation.

sleep is like a fickle friend—has been since the day you left the hotel room in tears. but you close your eyes and imagine your baby’s heart beating inside you in sync with yours. tomorrow, there will be a new recording to replace the older one. hopefully one that’s stronger. calmer.

when sleep drags you under around three in the morning, you dream of his hands—fingers gingerly touching your stomach, resting on all the spots that flutter with movement. gentle hands that massage your sore feet and work out the kinks in your back.

hands that you might never feel on your skin ever again.

the doctor smiles coyly and slides an envelope to your mother. it’s a little hush-hush secret, one she insisted on and begged till you relented. the gender reveal isn’t huge or flashy but you know there’s a cake waiting for you at home along with a few friends and family. and for the first time in months, you let the excitement of it wash over you.

the scan was perfect! and now you feel a bit bad for clutching your mum’s hand hard enough till she’d winced (even though she hid it quickly and smiled at you in encouragement). so now here you are, thanking the doctor and practically skipping out the room with your mum laughing in tow.

she looks lighter too, you realise, much more carefree as she gushes about her precious grandbaby and how excited she is to meet them.

“we have to buy onesies!” she squeals getting behind the wheel and you laugh.

“we will, mum, but they’re going to grow out of it in weeks so you can’t go crazy, okay?”

she dismisses this with a wave and a pfft and you can already imagine the mountain of clothes she’s going to buy over the next twenty weeks.

you nod off to the sound of your mum excitedly making plans for an elaborate baby shower, one that you’ll have to beg her to tone down, but her voice fades away soon. instead, you dream of him. your subconscious wonders what he would have been like today—maybe he’d cry out of excitement or being overwhelmed, maybe he would smile so wide his cheeks hurt. in some parallel universe the two of you would be in the baby aisle—hand in hand and cooing over tiny onesies.

in this universe, you jerk out of the daydream just as your mum parks in the driveway.

your friends and family don’t yell “surprise”, much to your relief. there are many hugs and congratulations. tears of happiness and jokes and then a delicious vanilla cake brought in front of you.

everyone waits eagerly. no one brings him up. not even you, as you sink the knife into it and cut a slice.

it’s pink. a gorgeous, pale pink. it’s a girl.

everyone cheers. your mum hugs you and you sniffle into her shoulder while laughing giddiy. a girl, your baby girl.

right then you know what you’re going to call her—you don’t need baby name lists on google or a hundred suggestions from your mother. you already know her name.

mia.

mine and mine alone.

blink and twenty weeks go down to fifteen and ten and then five. each day it seems like you only get bigger and bigger, impossibly so. your life is filled to the brim with baby stuff, inside and out. everywhere you look there’s either a pram or a crib or pregnancy books. every time you get one spare minute you’re reminded of the back aches and sore feet. the constant hunger that just does not seem to go away no matter how much you eat.

your mothers visits increase from only sundays to whole weekends to three days a week.

at first you protest—fuelled by hunger and hormones and mood swings. fuelled by the rage of a thousand burning stars as you stomp into the living room where she’s folding yet another batch of baby socks and blankets.

“you’re suffocating me!” you snap, already on the brink of tears while she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“baby—”

“no! mum,” a deep breath and a few stray tears, “i’m not a baby. i’m having a baby for fucks sake.”

“language!” she scolds.

“stop it, just, please!” there’s not much you can do but stomp your foot like a petulant child. proving her point most likely. “stop acting like i need to be coddled and protected. just. stop!”

your mum looks speechless, too stunned to speak but the ball is rolling and now you cannot stop.

“i don’t need you here. i don’t need you acting like i would crumble and wither away without you. i don’t need you and i certainly don’t need him—fuck!” you gasp for a breath, choking mid-sentence.

the second those words spill out of you, you want to take them back but it’s too late. her eyes are already red-rimmed and glossy. one tear rolls down her cheek and that’s all it takes for you to break down completely.

“fuck!” you repeat. “i’m sorry, mum. i’m so sorry.” that’s the only thing you can chant until she chucks the clothes aside and wraps her arms around you, shushing you the best she can through her own tears.

for the first time in eight months you wonder about what if. and for the first time in eight months, you think about his words from that night.

maybe not for another year or two.

you’re closer now to the one year mark that you’re to that night. mia kicks your insides again—her own version of support or maybe it’s her doling out punishment for never introducing her to her dad. either way, it’s not helping. all it does is spread pain throughout your lower body as you hold onto your mum, rocking back and forth.

“it’s alright, sweetheart,” you mum whispers gently, kissing the crown of your head and cradling you like she used to when you were a kid. it makes your emotions worse. increases the ache tenfold.

“i miss him, mum,” you admit finally, in a voice so small that you might as well not have spoken. but she hears it anyway. she hears it but doesn’t interrupt. she lets you speak.

“every single day i wonder if he even gives a shit. or if he regrets leaving me, leaving us. i speak to adam and carly and i wonder if they ever tell him about me. i wonder if he even cares…”

you gulp down air, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your jumper and cuddling into her further.

“and after everything. i miss him more than anything in this world.”

there it is. the truth, finally out there, finally spilled after months of pretending to be cold and callous. you wait for her to speak, to say something that will dull the pain and release you from this torment but she never gets the chance.

because that is the moment your daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

it’s pain like you’ve never felt before.

pain and panic and unadulterated fear. she’s not supposed to be here yet. you’re only 35 weeks pregnant—nowhere near full term. what if this affects her negatively. you blame and blame—first yourself; you must have done something wrong, right? ate something wrong or not taken the right vitamins or slept the wrong fucking way. then you blame matty. if he was here, you would have never been this stressed and unhappy in the first place. everything would have been smooth-sailing.

and yet a small part of you yearns for him to be here. to brush your sweaty hair away from your forehead instead of your mother as the doctor yells at you to push.

it’s all too much, all too soon. this is not how it’s supposed to be. this is not how any of this is supposed to be.

the machines around you beep in a rhythm that’s all worng—it’s too loud and erratic and out of sync with the rest of the world. surely, that’s not how fast your heart’s beating. maybe the beeping is something else you’re unaware of. and yet your body feels hot and cold at the same time. too weak to move but pushing and contracting and tearing you apart from the inside. you’re vaguely aware of the screams that tear out of you, of gripping your mum’s hand so tightly that you worry, you’ve bruised it.

but she’s strong, stronger than you’ll ever be. she endures and passes along some of that strength to you.

“one more big push,” the doctor encourages. she’s a kind, middle-aged woman. probably someone who’s brought many babies into this world. she knows what she’s doing. but your body won’t cooperate.

all you feel is a bone deep exhaustion that tries to drag you under as your mother taps your cheek.

“a big push, baby,” she repeats. “one big push and her shoulders will be out.”

and that would almost be the end of it, right? so you nod with whatever’s left in you and breathe the way they taught you in birthing classes.

and that’s how it goes. inhale. hold. exhale. gather strength. push. all of it done to a constant stream of rather futile encouragements. until you feel like you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone. about to unravel any moment.

but then a tiny cry echoes around the room and the world comes to a standstill.

mia’s arrival changes everything in the blink of an eye.

you have no time left for self-pity; every waking moment is occupied with feedings and nappy changes and laundry. you sleep when she sleeps, you hold her close every chance you get. you sing her and cradle her and shower her with enough affection for two people. she has you and your mum. she doesn’t need anyone else.

slowly you let other friends and family visit—extremely selective and protective about who gets the priviledge but one afternoon when adam messages you know you can’t deny that to him. even when you’ve tried to keep him, and all of them by entension, at bay.

in another universe, she would have been his goddaughter. you’re sure of it.

so you let him and carly and their son visit, let them hold her and gush over her. carly instantly falls in love with her, cradling her close and trying to make her smile even though she’s just woken up. mia babbles at her and grabs her shiny necklace.

you watch them transfixed, giggling at carly’s squeals and coos until adam asks if he could speak to you alone.

“i don’t want to step over a boundary,” he starts and you know what’s coming but you let him continue. “have you thought about letting him know? that she’s already here…”

“i…” in all honesty, you had wondered if you should call him and let him know. but what if he still doesn’t care. “i didn’t. i couldn’t.”

adam’s face softens. “he’s back in london, you know? you could. you could try.”

that piques your interest. you hadn’t knows he’d left in the first place. “he’s back?”

adam takes a deep breath, eyes darting slightly and lingering on his wife as if he’s trying to steel himself. as if he has some news he’d rather not share. in the end however, maybe he chooses not to.

“yes, he’s back,” he says, trying and failing not to sound cagey. “he wasn’t until now. but if you would talk to him… just, i think you should talk to him.”

for the rest of their visit, his words linger in your mind. they stay even after the hanns leaving, promising another visit whenever you’re free next and you tell them they’re welcome any time. this time, you even mean it from the bottom of your heart.

but adam’s words come back to haunt you day after day as mia continues to grow. day after day you watch her learn about new things and figure out new stuff around her.

matty should be here. if not for him then for her. and once again you wonder about calling him.

one last chance. if he ignores this then he loses the right to his daughter forever.

so one tuesday morning, you gather the courage. you strap your baby to your chest and go downstairs to make some pancakes.

“after breakfast, darling,” you tell her, even though those words aren’t meant for her. “after breakfast we’ll call him again. maybe he will pick up. maybe he won’t.”

mia babbles when you kiss her head and flip a pancake, ignoring the worry that settles in the pit of your stomach. you’re so focused on the task at hand (rather, at ignoring the thoughts of impending doom) that you almost miss the doorbell that rings once and then again.

so focused that you have to scramble to wash your hands and rush to the door. maybe it’s your mum again, even though she wasn’t supposed to come today. it won’t be her first surprise visit, though. she misses her granddaughter far too much for that.

in a hurry you open the door, without even thinking about it twice. without even bothering to unstrap your daughter from your chest.

matty’s familiar face comes into view and for the second time in three months, the world comes to a standstill.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars

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#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy imagine #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #angst #minors do not interact #read the cws pls!!!#ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #it's very unlikely i will ever write anything like this again #so oh well here we go #matty x you #matty x reader

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remusluvr · 1 year

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lovers rock | remus lupin

summary: remus can't help but love you and you can't help but love him. content warning: female reader, reader has hair that at least touches her shoulders, no usage of y/n, sappy love, oral (f receiving), p in v, mid editing and first time writing smut

Coming home, Remus is immediately greeted by you running up to him. It's been a long day, not a hard day, but long. You miss him. You miss him all the time. He worries, "Had a bad day at school?"

"No." He's not entirely convinced but it's fine. You're with each other now so everything is fine. You love him and he loves you and everything is perfect. "I cooked dinner."

You part from his side, and he can see the table is all set. He just now realizes how amazing it smells in the house. Remus smiles, "Come on, I don't want your hard work to go cold."

Sitting at the table, he can't help but watch you. Watch the way you chew your food, the way you're genuinely interested in what he has to say, the way your hair lays on your shoulders, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. It's all things he's noticed before but for some reason, right now, it's making him feel so shy. He doesn't know how to express how much he loves you in this moment. When you're both done eating, neither of you move, continuing with your conversation. The only change is how your hands meet each other on top of the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently.

It's as though a switch has flipped in his brain. He's known for a while now that you're the girl that he wants to marry but, right now, he wants that more than anything. He wants the entire domestic thing with you. He wants to come home and have dinner with you. He wants to just lay on the couch, spread across each other as you watch a stupid movie. He wants to see you pregnant. Wants to have little yous and hims running around the house. He knows none of this is very plausible right now. You're still in school, not done for another year, and he's not financially stable enough to provide that life for you and him yet. Remus notes anyway that he needs to start seriously saving money and looking at rings because there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that he wants to marry you and be with you for the rest of his life.

He insists that he do the dishes himself, but here you are, on the counter next to him, helping him dry them after having cooked the whole meal yourself. If he was a better man, he'd tell you to go get ready for bed but talking with you makes the boring chore bearable. It doesn't help that you're wearing a pretty sundress. All he wants to do is touch you and feel you and look at you until his eyes fall out.

Once you're all done with the washing, Remus helps you off the counter, his hands resting on your waist. He can't bring himself to let you go just yet, lips finding yours in a gentle kiss, his hands remain innocent, one on your waist and one holding your face to his. If he could do this forever, it wouldn't even be a second thought for him. It only spurs him on further when you moan into his mouth. His tongue probes at your lips, and you part them, letting him press you against the counter behind you. He parts from the kiss, out of breath. His thumb wipes at them, swollen from him. If this were a cartoon, there would be hearts floating above his head.

"You're so pretty," you tell him and he laughs, dipping his face into your neck to hide. You've given him a million compliments before but he's in such a strange mood that he could die from how happy he is. He nips at the sensitive skin there, and you laugh at the way it tickles. Remus pulls away, pecking your awaiting lips once more before getting onto his knees. He presses his lips all over your legs, starting at your calves. You have never felt so beautiful than when you're with Remus.

His mouth is everywhere, it's dizzying. He spends extra time on your thighs, sucking and biting marks into the skin. His head is under your dress, his hands holding you still, not letting you squirm away from him. He slowly pulls your underwear down, soaking in the way your breath hitches as he drags them all the way off, putting them in his pocket so they're not lost later.

Every single time you and Remus have sex is amazing, but it's never been like this. It's incredibly intimate and intense, and you realize just how in love with him you are. His lips suck your clit into his mouth. Your back arches and your hands tangle into his hair. He groans into your cunt. Remus is focused as he works his tongue through you.

"F-f-fuck, Remus! A-a-ah." There are no coherent thoughts moving through your head. You can only think about Remus. He's enjoying every part of this as you squirm underneath his mouth. He loves knowing that he can make you feel so good. So when your hands tighten even more into his hair, he knows you're about to cum. He helps you through it, licking and sucking. You feel so light and relaxed.

Remus is kissing your thighs again as he waits for your breathing to return to normal. Leaving one last peck, he stands briefly, removing your dress and tossing it on the ground beside you. You fist at his shirt, urging him to take it off. He obliges before pausing, and kissing you, really kisses you. Your hands grab at his belt, unbuckling it. "You're foiling my plan with this kind of behavior," he groaned playfully.

"Oh yeah? And what's your plan exactly?"

He drops to his knees once again, starting where he's left off, kissing up your stomach, taking his sweet time when he finally reaches your boobs. Remus loves every part of you, this has shown you that. You're actually quite surprised he doesn't turn you around and start all over again. Instead, he sucks at your neck.

He knows it's childish, to feel a need to mark you up, but he does. He wants everyone to know that you're his. His girlfriend. Only he gets to see you like this.

"Remus," you moan out and, god, he's never wanted to fuck you more in his entire life he thinks and that's saying something. "Please. I need you. Please." Your begging does him in, he can't resist any longer. However, he does take a minute to bite at your ear lobe, enjoying the way your head tries to press down to your shoulder. He knows how much you love it, how sensitive you are there.

"You're lovely, you're so lovely," he mumbled, just now noticing how hard he's gotten. You start to drop to your knees but he catches you before you can. "Any other time darling, but I need you right now. I need to feel you. Is that alright?"

"I'll try not to feel rejected but, yes, that's more than alright."

"God, please don't feel like I don't want you to. I-I just need to be inside you." You smile, nodding, eyes hooded with lust as he helps you get comfortable before pushing inside of you. Everything about it is perfect, the way he thrusts into you, so slowly, like he's savoring every last bit. He can barely even kiss you, mind too foggy. He's muttering incoherent words under his breath as you hold him to you. His hand is on your bent knee, keeping your leg held up on his waist. He speeds up, and you can't help the way your head falls back and hits against the cabinet. He feels bad, letting his hand come up behind your head, stopping to from hurting.

"I love you so much, Rem. So, so, so much."

"Oh my god, I've never loved- fuck, you know I'm gonna marry you one day? Huh? Make you my pretty little wife? Come home to your every single day? Shit."

"Rem. I-I'd marry you right now if you'd let me." It's all the both of you need to finish, him falling against you, burying his face in your neck. Your legs shake around his waist and the moan you let out would make the devil blush.

His hands massage at your legs as he pulls out. Helping ease the inevitable soreness that will be there. "I meant it," you murmur, wanting to keep the peacefulness of the moment.

"Huh?"

"I meant it. When I said the thing about marrying you. I want that too. With you." He's not sure how he doesn't die in that very instant. He says nothing, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on the top of your head as your arms wrap around him. It's such a peaceful moment, one you never want to leave. "Come on, sweetheart, we both need a shower."

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secret-sturniolo · 6 months

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SFW Alphabet - Matt Sturniolo

a/n - please remember these are only my opinions! You are allowed to disagree, but be respectful about it!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In private, his hands are all over you, giving you hugs, kisses, cuddles, everything. He doesn't like PDA though, so in public the most he would do is hold your hand,

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hes the kind of guy you would meet through a friend of a friend, and it's kindof a slow-burn friendship where things start slow, but get serious really quickly. He would always be there for you, assuring you that you can come to him about anything, and telling you how much you mean to him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loooves being the big spoon and falling asleep with you in his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Matt totally wants to have a family some day, when the time is right. He would try to help out around the house as much as he can, sometimes even doing more work than you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would try his best to end things on civil terms, letting you know that he would still be there for you if you ever needed anything. However, if he was breaking up with you for reasons like being cheated on, he would lose all respect for you and cut you out completely.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Matt would love to get married to the love of his life. For timing, he would kind of feel things out with you. He doesn't want to rush anything, but also wouldn't say no to a spur of the moment engagement if things felt right.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is the most gentle, empathetic person you have ever met. He seems so in tune with his own, and your emotions, not afraid to have tough conversations about them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes! Hugs from behind are his favorite. When he hugs you, the smell of him, whether it be his cologne or shampoo, makes you feel so calm and content.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a little bit, maybe a few weeks or a month, but he wants you to know exactly how much he cares about you so he isn't afraid to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's kind of a toss up. Most of the time he is not a jealous person and doesn't mind when you talk to other guys in a friendly way, but say you were somewhere like a party and guys were coming up to you, he would take you away from them, wanting you all to himself.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Matt is suchhhh a good kisser. Sometimes, he will cover your whole face in kisses while you giggle and try to escape his arms. He loves it when you leave small kisses on his jaw or even the tip of his nose.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He adores little children. He loves to make them laugh, or smile and wave at kids in passing. He gives off major "cool dad" vibes.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Some mornings, you both have work to do so you have to get up. Other mornings, you just lay in each other's arms, talking about whatever comes to mind.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Late nights with Matt are the best. There are a variety of activities you guys like to do. Sometimes you will play video games with him, throw a movie on, go for a drive, or get food. Sometimes his brothers are there too, but if there's ever a time you just want to be alone with him, he agrees, no questions asked.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Matt is a pretty open book with most things, encouraging you to be vulnerable with him, too. He feels very comfortable with you, and he trusts that you would keep things between you and him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With most people, especially his brothers, he is super short tempered. With you? Everything changes. He honestly enjoys it when you do things to purposely annoy him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Matt is super attentive, not wanting to forget anything. Things like your birthday, middle name, favorite color, favorite song? He knows them all.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He would cherish all the small moments shared between him and you, that only the two of you would know about.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He gets protective sometimes in settings like parties or events, but he also knows that you can hold your own most of the time. He's always close by if you need him, though.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He is on his A game 100% of the time! He wants every moment with you to be special.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He knows you don't like it when he bites his nails, and he tries his hardest not to with your help.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's good looking, but he also doesn't have a big ego about it. He wants to look presentable, but doesn't usually put a lot of work into outfits or hairstyles.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Somewhat? He loves being with you, but also respects that you two are separate people and you need to do things separately sometimes.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

This man lowkey knows how to cook (as long as he has a recipe).

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

We all know how much he hates ketchup. In a person, he doesn't like people who try too hard to be cool or impress him. Ultimately, if he feels like he can't connect with you, he won't want to be around you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Because he stays up so late, he tends to sleep in until late afternoon. He has a hard time falling asleep if you aren't with him, wrapped in his arms.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #angst #fluff #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets imagine #imagine #fanfic #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader

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mxtantrights · 3 months

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Bounded by shadow and blood (5)

Azriel x magic!fem!reader

The mission had been going fine. What Azriel needed firstly was a run down on all the information you had on the thief. A fae, of course, tall with brown hair and green eyes. He wears anything to blend in so a clothing description is meaningless. And he seems to have the ability to winnow. It’s the only reason he got so close to the palace in the first place.

Azriel had brought in new information, you can admit. He was from the night court, part of a splintered faction of a group known for stealing in other courts. This male seemed to be taking it a step further and is going after sacred items.

What the both of you can’t seem to figure out is why.

That is why you are sat in the local tavern in town. There is no way the male would be caught again near the palace. But he wouldn’t be shameful enough to not try again. And in order to do that he would need more information. What better source that drunken fae that won’t remember what they told you come the new dawn.

You can’t stand how close Azriel is to you though. He took it upon himself to sit right next to you after the third random male in the tavern had decided to come up and flirt with you.

“It’s like you think I can’t multi-task.” You say.

“What?” Azriel asks.

“You think that I can’t handle a drunken idiot and be a look out.” You clarify for him.

“I never said that.” He answers.

You turn your body towards him more and lean in close. From this close you can feel his breath and smell him more clearly. Dam he smells good too. You weren’t going to admit it though.

“You didn’t have to, I can tell.” You whisper.

“Yeah? Is it in my blood?” He asks.

You lean away from him.

Then there was that. He hadn’t stopped asking questions since you had won your sparing match with him. He came here with the intention of figuring out what you were, and that fight had only spurred him on.

“Who asked you about me?” You ask.

Azriel looks at you dead on, “That’s private.”

“It was Nesta wasn’t it?”

He says nothing. And that basically confirms that it was her. What you count understand is why. Why did she want to know about you?

He goes back to drinking his ale. And you turn back to the tavern maid. You’re about to ask her for a refill when someone beats you to it.

A man, tall with brown hair and green eyes. There he is. He asks for two ales and looks at you with a smile.

“I hope one of those is for me.” you say.

“Depends, does your partner mind?” He asks.

You spare a glance at Azriel who is not even entertaining this conversation. You know he knows who this is. But you don’t know why he’s acting nonchalant for.

You turn back to them male, “He’s not my partner.”

“Ah, that is the best news I’ve heard all night.” he says.

You hold out your hand and introduce yourself. He takes it and gives you his name. Lars. You have no doubt that it’s not his real name. But at least you have an alias now.

Two ales are set down and Lars passes you one. You thank him and take a sip. Lars positions himself right next to you. You can feel the blood pumping though his veins from this close.

“What’s a beauty like you doing in this place?” He asks.

You chuckle at his bland flirting.

“I guess waiting for someone like you.” You say with a small smile.

He smiles too.

Just as he’s about to say something there is commotion behind you. You turn to get a look. And you can send a shift somewhere, but you don’t know what it is.

When you turn back, Lars is looking past you. At Azriel no doubt. He sticks out like a sore thumb. But something is going through your mind right now. If Lars was from the night court why did he refer to Azriel as your partner?

Surely he would know who he is, unless he’s playing the role. How could you get him to slip up?

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.” He says.

You nod your head, “What do you make?”

“Make?”

There it is. Everyone here makes their livelihood off of making something. Tinkers, gadgets and the sort. When you greeted new people in town the first question you asked was what they made.

“Yes, silly, are you a clock maker? You kind of look like one.” You take another sip of your ale.

He smiles, but this time it doesn’t quite fit his face. Like he’s thinking of his next lie so he doesn’t have enough effort to put into his fake smile. Got him.

“You caught me,” he starts and you watch him very closely, “I’m not from dawn. I’m just passing through.”

You play off your body language as sad and deflated, “That’s sad to hear. Why don’t you stay a while?”

He laughs at that, “I wish I could but time is money.”

“Are you here until sunrise at least?” You ask him.

The question is promiscuous on purpose. He’s a male. He came up to you in a tavern. There’s only a couple of things he could want with you. And he hasn’t asked you anything about the area or the dawn court.

“Looking to give me a send off?” He jokes.

You smile and bat your eyes, “I mean maybe I can show you a good time before you go back to the night court.”

He goes still like ice. Then without another thought he’s taking off. He’s running away from you and out the door of the tavern. You put your money down for the ale and run after him, not nothing to look back for Azriel.

As you follow him out the door, you see him taking down the street. He turns back once to look at you but that was all Azriel needed. He appeared in front of him out of the shadows. You caged him in.

“Before we hand him over to you, the high lord has questions for him.” You say.

Azriel nods his head, “Very well, I’ll take him to the cells.”

Since picking up Lars in the tavern it has been hours of resistance. He was really good at not giving up information. You hadn’t resorted to using your powers yet but you were very close.

“It’s no use, I won’t tell you anything.” He says.

You lean against the wall and watch him closely. He was breathing raggedly, his eyes glassy. You had thought the court of nightmares produced stronger monsters than this. True you only just learned about the people in said court a few days ago, but still.

“You know I’m the easy part right?” You ask.

He looks at you then. With a look you can’t quite place on his face. It wasn’t confusion, he knows exactly what you’re talking about. Azriel is waiting to take him back to the night court. Where he will no doubt be met with an even harder interrogation.

“Do you really think that they will ask questions?” He asks you now.

“They want to know why you tried to steal from the dawn court.” You answer.

He shakes his head, “No they don’t want to know that, you do. They want me to be in a cell never to be seen again.”

“And you think that’s undeserving?” You ask.

“Its not but I would rather take death as my fate than stay prisoner under the likes of the high lord of the night court.”

That piques your interest. You don’t know much about the high lord but you knew he was the overseer of the night court. Which doesn’t inspire images of rainbows and sunshine.

“He’s cruel.” You say.

“You speak as if you don’t know.”

“I don’t.”

He looks you over once. It feels disgusting but you know that you’re in total control of this situation.

“You’re human.” He says.

“No I’m not. Nice guess.” You counter.

“I could get out of these restraints and kill you without even breaking a sweat.” He threatens you.

You smile, “I don’t think so.”

“You want to take that chance pet?”

You keep eye contact with him and feel the blood running in his veins. You tilt your head to the side as you focus on dropping the temperature in his body. Slowly he starts flinching and shivering.

“Do you want to take that chance?” You ask him now.

“You’re a witch! You-you’re using spells!” He shouts.

You stop controlling his blood and you see him let out a sigh of relief. You peel yourself from the wall and walk over to the door.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just wait until your spill your guts for the shadow singer.” You taunt him.

You open the door to his cell and walk out of it.

#blood and shadow #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic

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