#STUPID BRAIN MAKING ME THINK OF THAT STORY BECAUSE NOW I NEED IT

[gggukniverse]

take me down slow | jjk

title: take me down slow

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: m, smut, established relationship au

summary: jungkook is back home from work and even if you've missed him a lot, you let him rest tonight. though, out of all night, you have a wet dream tonight. and even if jungkook is tired, he's happy to take care of you.

warnings: dom!jk sub!reader, needy reader and sleepy koo 🥹, a little bit of oral (m receiving), a little bit of fingering too, unprotected sex (pls be safe), degradation (jk calls reader a whore like one time), daddy kink, kink discovery, creampie, just basically some lazy sleepy sex... until it's not so lazy.

wordcount: 2.2k

note: HELLO !!! 🫡 this is just a little story i wrote a long time ago and since part 3 of basic needs is still a work in progress i wanted to give you something to read while you wait :) this one is not edited at all so don't expect the greatest thing. either way, i hope you enjoy it 🩷

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you open your eyes with a gasp and when you take in the dark room you realize it was just a dream. it felt too real. you can almost still feel jungkook”s hands all over your body, well, you kind of actually feel them now.

jungkook is fast asleep by your side, your legs tangled together while your arm is thrown over his middle and his is wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him even in his unconscious state.

he came home from work yesterday, it’s been almost four weeks since the last time you two were together but that’s what being an international star does to his schedule. he got home late in the afternoon and you only got to prepare dinner together and share a comfortable and much needed talk during dinner before he said he was so jet lagged and he needed to go to sleep. you needed him so bad but didn’t say a word, just went to bed with him and fell asleep together.

but out of all nights, you had to have a stupid wet dream tonight.

you’re actually sweating, your skin is hot and your underwear is starting to feel uncomfortable because you can feel it’s soaked. and jungkook is sleeping. he’s peacefully sleeping with his pouty mouth and furrowed eyebrows. you feel so bad but you need him even more, so you guess you can feel bad about it tomorrow morning.

you shift a little and get closer to his neck, giving his skin sweet little kisses as you slowly start to rut your hips against him to try and find any kind of friction on your crotch. like a bitch in heat, that’s what you feel like.

a groan escapes jungkook’s mouth at one specific suck to the side of his neck and his hand twitches where it’s placed on your waist.

“baby.” you whisper in his ear.

“yeah...” he only groans with that sleepy rasp to his voice you missed so much.

“i’m so horny.” you whine as you keep rutting against his hip.

that comment alone seems to wake jungkook up. he lifts his head a little to look down at you with what you suppose is an arched eyebrow, the little light in the room coming from the city lights through the window.

“baby.. .” he says and drops his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes again. he’s tired. you feel so bad.

“i’m sorry, i.. fuck..” you feel like crying but god, you’re so horny you don’t even think your brain is working anymore.

“it’s okay, baby.” jungkook mumbles and his hand that was on your waist goes down to squeeze one of your asscheeks out of nowhere, making you whimper on his neck.

“kook.. so horny..”

“mhm.. i know.” you swear if he keeps talking with that raspy voice you could come completely untouched.

“want you so bad.” your hand goes down to cup him over his sweatpants. he’s soft but you can definitely feel him twitching a little at the contact.

“make me hard, baby.” jungkook squeezes your asscheek again, making you moan.

“yes!” you quickly get up on your knees and throw the comforter away from his body, wasting no time in pushing his sweats down.

“good girl.” your boyfriend praises, his hand going to your hair when you bend over to blow air on his soft dick teasingly.

“missed you so much,” you take him into your hand and start giving his head little licks, feeling it slowly starting to harden on your hand. “missed your cock in my mouth.”

“missed your mouth too.” jungkook hums as he brushes your hair out of your face so he can see you.

“you’re so hot..” you whine when you feel him getting to full hardness just in a matter of seconds. you put it in your mouth, your lips wrapping around him and drowning in the groan that escapes jungkook’s mouth.

“that’s my girl.” the praise makes you so wet you could feel it running down your thighs if your underwear wasn’t soaking all of it.

you bob your head a few times to get him wet enough and pull away with a desperate moan, “kook, i need you.”

“i know, come here.” he pats his thighs. you work quickly, sitting down on his thighs and leaning down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, trying not to grind against his cock.

“i love you.”

“i love you too baby,” jungkook chuckles fondly against your mouth. “c’mon, sit that pretty pussy on this cock, yeah?” he gives you one last kiss before putting his hands on your waist lifting the big shirt —his shirt— so he can take it off.

you’re only wearing your panties so as soon as the shirt hits the floor, jungkook groans at the sight even through te darkness in the room.

“pretty baby.” he praises, running his hands up and down your sides as you sit back on his thighs.

“i’m so wet.” you mutter, looking down at where you’re sitting in one of his thighs.

“yeah, can fucking feel it,” jungkook says. “would make you ride my thigh, but i want you on my cock,” he easily lifts you up by your hips and positions you on top of him. “take them off.”

you sit up for a second to take the ruined panties off and throw them away before sitting back down on top of him, your most sensitive part just above his cock.

“let me feel you,” jungkook brings one of his hands down and you choke on a moan when his fingers start running through your wet folds. “fuck yeah, that’s my whore, huh?”

“kook,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his hand. “fuck yes...” a little moan escapes through your lips when he slips two fingers inside.

“so little resistance, are you this needy for cock?” jungkook hums in question and you almost cry out as he slips another finger inside. you don’t tell him you’ve been using toys while he was away. either way, his fingers always feel better than any toy.

“yes, need your cock baby.”

“c’mon, sit on it.” he gives your pussy a wet slap that makes your thighs twitch for a second and then grabs the base of his cock to make it easier for you.

“okay.” you whisper and lower down, positioning on top of his cock and moaning absurdibly high when jungkook decides to drag the head of his cock through your folds.

“so wet.” he mumbles.

you think you might die if you don’t have him inside you now so you start to sink down on his cock slowly, both of you moaning in unison, until you’re sitting on top of him with his entire length inside.

“missed you so much.” you whine, feeling like you could cry.

“i missed you too baby,” he puts his hands on your hips. “so much.”

you stay there for a while, just feeling him inside as you bend down to kiss him again. he wraps his arms around you and kisses you back with so much passion you’re out of breath seconds later.

“pretty.” he looks up at you with that type of smile that makes your knees weak and you straighten up again, putting your hands on his chest for balance.

“you feel so good, kook.” you tell him because you need him to know.

“mh... yeah?” asshole.

“yes.” you moan and start grinding your hips for your pleasure, still not giving him what he wants.

“i can’t fucking see anything right now but i’m sure you’re creaming my cock so good, right?” the words make you clench around him with a whine and you hear him groan at the feeling. “so fucking tight.”

but you eventually sit up a little, letting him pull out until only his head is inside you and slowly sink down on him again. you do it slowly, still tired from how little you must’ve slept, but jungkook seems fine with it. little hums and groans escape his mouth sometimes but the time he lets out a high-pitched moan you clench so hard around him, making him moan again and grip on your hips for dear life.

“baby, god...” he breathes out. it’s clear he’s still sleepy, but it’s so fucking hot.

you lose yourself the moment his tip grazes against that spot, your hips grinding desperately for him to keep hitting it. but jungkook helps you by bending his legs a little, planting his feet on the mattress and starting to thrust up into you.

hard. you didn’t think he could be on his full potential when he’s as sleepy as he is now, but he proves you wrong fucking you so hard that you fall on top of him, your bare chest against his clothed one. yes, also the fact that he’s still half clothed and you’re completely naked makes you even wetter. but he’s slow, he gives your deep and hard thrusts but still doesn’t do it fast.

“oh my– fuck...” you breathe out against his neck, not being able to move anymore.

“feels good, baby?” he doesn’t stop fucking you, his hands also pulling your hips down to meet his thrusts so hard you know you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“yes daddy,” the word slips out of your mouth before you can even process it and you feel jungkook stopping completely. “fuck...” you whisper and hide your face on his neck in embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that.”

“daddy?” jungkook asks and you hate the way you don’t know what he’s thinking right now.

“i’m so sorry... fuck, that was so weird– i’m sorry baby.”

“no, let daddy hear you baby.” he suddenly starts thrusting up inside you and you let out a scream.

“kook! oh my god!” he’s fast now. fast and hard. your whole body is completely limp on top of his.

“that’s not my name, babe.”

oh fuck.

“d– daddy..” you stutter because you can’t even form words right now.

“there you go.” he chuckles and fuck, how can he chuckle while fucking you so hard, you can’t even form a single thought in your brain right now.

“fuck!” you whine when his tip keeps brushing against that sweet spot. “i’m so– i’m so close, daddy.”

“gonna cum?” he hums.

“yeah...” you cry out and the chuckle he lets out makes you clench incredibly hard around his cock.

“gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”

“fuck! yeah... yes, yes, please.” you mumble dumbly, feeling closer and closer everytime he speaks.

“please what?” jungkook hums as his hips keep that punishing pace that has you seeing stars.

“please let me cum,” you beg. “please daddy.”

“cum for me, baby.”

your orgasm washes over your whole body like a wave, leaving your legs shaking as you fall completely limp on top of his body while he keeps thrusting to cum just a few seconds after.

“fuck...” jungkook groans as he fills you up, the sensation making you squirm a little on top of him. “that’s my good girl.” he mumbles as he rubs your back up and down soothingly.

“i missed you.” you say and finally lift your head up to leave a little kiss on his lips.

“i missed you too baby,” you can see his smile even through the dark. “i’m gonna turn us around, okay?” he warns and you just nod, letting him hug your waist to flip you two around so that he’s the one on top.

“it’s gonna be messy.” you giggle as he positions himself on his knees to pull out.

“it’s okay, i’ll change the sheets now.” jungkook shrugs and starts to pull out, making you hiss a little in discomfort but sigh when you instantly feel his cum spilling out of you and straight onto the sheets.

you can’t help but giggle again when jungkook sits back and looks down, like he’s admiring the view.

“like what you see... daddy?” you tease as you slide your hand down your body until you get to your pussy and slip two fingers inside.

“you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” he rubs his hands up and down your thighs as he keeps his eyes down where you’re gathering some of his cum with your fingers. a low groan leaves his mouth when you bring your messy fingers to your mouth and suck on them, tasting him on them.

“missed your taste.”

“you better stop that shit before i get hard again,” he warns you and you break in laughter. “wanna have a quick shower?” he asks.

“yeah, i’m a little sweaty and i feel gross.” you nod as you sit up. he nods.

“mh, i’ll change the sheets while you shower, okay? i’ll join you in a minute.”

“okay.” you smile and lean closer to him to steal another sweet kiss before getting up from the bed and making your way to the bathroom, turning the lights on first.

“baby.”

you turn around at that and jungkook looks up and down your naked body before saying, “i really missed you.”

you smile. “i missed you too.”

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A/N: i hope you liked this story !!!!! please feel free to comment or send me an ask telling me what you thought of it, feedback helps a lot ! see you in the next one :) 🫂💐

#jungkook x reader #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #bangtan reactions #bangtan x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook reaction #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #bts x y/n #bangtan smut #gggukniverse

[bangchansnudes]

baby

fuckboy!hyunjin. 1.6k word. cliched enemy to lovers(??) with a douchebag hyunjin.

“don’t tell me you’re scared of some fake gore,” the boy whispers over to you, followed by a mocking chuckle, “need me to protect you baby?”

“shut up.”

“baby.”

“shut-”

“can you both shut up and just watch the damn movie?” seungmin says from his sitting position on the floor, his head turning back to glare at both you and hyunjin on the couch, “i swear if i need to pause it again, i’m throwing both of you out in the cold!”

if it weren’t for the fact that your roommate was dating seungmin, you would never ever interact with someone like his best friend, hwang hyunjin, let alone let him into your apartment.

but unfortunately for you, the two were the ultimate besties which meant where one boy went, the other usually followed. that’s why it had become a norm for the four of you to hang out. like right now, a weekend movie night.

you really didn’t mind seungmin, the boy was nice and treated your roommate well but hwang hyunjin was a whole other story.

hwang hyunjin. sigh. the boy was the literal definition of a fuck boy. an obnoxious frat boy who flirted his way through every living thing in a skirt. yeah, that was a way to describe him.

at first, hanging out with him wasn’t all that bad. you actually didn’t mind him either, the boy was somewhat funny and that face of his was just absolutely breath taking. one of the many reasons why he was so popular around town.

but then he began treating you differently, for some reason. he’d go out of his way to annoy you, to insult you, to tease you. he seemed to suddenly hate you and he made sure to let you know that.

and it had been hell since.

“i’m gonna make more popcorn,” you get off the couch and head towards the kitchen, sighing at the thought of having to spend the rest of the night with hyunjin. classes had already been hell for you so the last thing you needed tonight was a screaming match with the fuck boy.

“don’t do too much thinking, your small brain might explode.”

that voice. that god awful voice.

you turn around to see the devil himself leaning against the kitchen entrance, arms crossed over and a smug grin on his stupid handsome face.

“what? cat got your tongue babe?” he makes his way over to you, cornering you in against the kitchen cabinet, “or have you finally fallen in love with me?”

“fuck off hwang,” you push at his chest but the boy doesn’t budge, only laughing at your weak move, “i’m not in the mood to deal with your shit.”

“what do you have against me anyway?” he leans in closer to you, both his hands now resting on either sides of you on the cabinet, “is it cause i’m so good looking and so popular?”

gulp.

this has to be the closest you’ve ever been to hyunjin, his face barely even an inch away from yours. the smell of his cologne is attacking you from every direction, a very clear indication that he was way into your personal space than necessary.

“no hwang. i hate you because you’re so obnoxious and so self centred!”

“oh really?”

“yes!” your hands push up against his chest again as you say so, preventing the boy from coming any closer to you, “you think everything is about you! just because all the girls on campus wants to fuck you, doesn’t mean you can be such a douchebag all the time!”

perhaps you were crazy but you swear you could see his gaze move from your eyes to your lips as you spoke, the boy clearly not paying any attention to your words. you’re not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet, why he’s not throwing insults at you but the way he’s staring is making you more nervous than ever.

you try to avoid his weird, intense gaze by moving away but the boy stays put, his arms on either sides of you seemingly sliding closer to your body instead.

“mo- move-”

“do you wanna fuck me?”

“what the fuck hyunjin?”

“you said every girl on campus wants to fuck me right? well do you wanna fuck me?”

“of course not!”

“well that’s really too bad,” he scoffs, a playful grin on his face as his hands grab onto your waist, holding you in place, “cause i wanna fuck you though.”

your mouth is frozen, your mind unable to process the words that had come out of his mouth. maybe you were just hearing things because there was no way he had just said what he said to you.

the boy who had made your life a living hell these past two months wanted to what? fuck you?

“you... what?”

“i said, i want to fuck you,” his grip on you tightens with every word, fingers now gripping so harshly into your skin that you’re certain marks will appear by tomorrow morning, “and if you don’t tell me to stop, i am going to kiss you right now.”

gulp.

“th- this isn’t funny. let go.”

you let out a squeal when he suddenly lifts you up onto the cabinet and moves to stand in between your dangling legs. his body is now comfortably pressed against yours, his arms tightly around your waist while yours are resting on his shoulders. it’s a position you wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be in with him but here you are and you’re not pushing him away either.

“does it look like i’m trying to be funny?” his lips brushes past yours just slightly as he says so, a move you would’ve surely punched him for but at this moment, you don’t know how to react.

so many things are running through your mind, so many different potential reasons as to why he was suddenly acting this way.

“too late baby.”

and his lips were on yours before you could even respond, kissing you with so much force that your bottom lip immediately hurts. the boy is evidently desperate, wanting to taste more of you than just the surface.

his hands casually slides underneath your shirt as he continues to kiss you, causing an instant shiver through your body from his touch alone. you feel as though your body is on fire, every part of you screaming to be touched, to be pleased.

he moves away from you slightly after a bit, just enough for you to catch your breath again. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time, the intensity of his gaze only causing an embarrasing pool in between your legs. in addition to the pool that was already there during the kiss.

“if you just want to get your dick wet, well you’re not getting shit from me hwang.”

lies. you know for a fact that one more move from the boy and you’ll probably end up on your knees if he told you to.

but he didn’t need to know that.

“actually i’ve been trying for two months but you’re too fucking dense to notice,” he rolls his eyes at you, clearly annoyed, “why else would i spend every single weekend here? you think i really want to watch shitty b grade movies with the lovey dovey couple?”

“wait... what?”

“i flirt with you every single time! as if you really didn’t know!”

“being a dick is your way of flirting?” you make a disgusted face and slap his chest, “how on earth do you get girls everyday being this way?”

“well i haven’t had a girl in two months because the one i want is oblivious as fuck.”

silence.

...

more silence.

“well- well... i-”

“just shut up,” he smashes his lips onto your onces again, this time kissing you in a way that had your knees weak and your body feeling like mush. it’s a slow and sensual kiss, as if the boy is taking his time with you, wanting to feel every part of you.

you end up whimpering into the kiss when one of his hands moves to trace the thin lining of your pants, his fingers teasingly slipping past the band. but to your dismay, that’s all he does.

“hyunjin...”

“yeah baby, i’m right here.”

“oh. my. god,” you and hyunjin immediately freeze at your roommate’s sudden gasp, only to see her and seungmin standing at the entrance, completely disgusted, “i knew you guys would’ve ended up fucking one day but PLEASE not in my kitchen. PLEASE.”

“i told you dude. should’ve just confessed instead of giving me a headache for the past two months,” seungmin sighs dramatically before pulling your roommate away, “whatever, we’re going out. you guys play nicely.”

and the two are gone as quick as they appeared, leaving you and hyunjin alone in the apartment. no one says anything for a while but you don’t care. all you wanted to do was hide in a hole forever after being caught by your roommate and seungmin.

with a sigh, you decide it’d be best for you to get off the cabinet but hyunjin stops you.

“ah- i’m not done with you yet,” he says sternly, holding you in place, “we have a lot to talk about.”

“talk?”

“yeah like where you want me to take you on our first date.”

“who said i’d date you?” it’s your turn to scoff now, amazed at the boy’s confidence, “you wish hwang.”

“who you trying to fool? you were about to let me fuck you right here in this kitchen babe, so i’m pretty sure you wouldn’t say no to a date.”

“hwang hyunjin!”

“yeah baby, i’m right here.”

end.

​2024 © bangchansnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

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[after-witch]

Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Title: Eight Deadly Mistakes [Yandere Alastor x Reader]

Synopsis: You've made a lot of mistakes in Hell, but this one has to be the worst.

Birthday fic for @absolute-flaming-trash who is absolutely awesome!

word count: 1899ish

notes: yandere, abuse, obsessive behavior, humiliation, I'm joining the 'alastor yanks reader by a chain' club

Hell was full of mistakes, and you figured that yours amounted to a sizable chunk--particularly since meeting Alastor. Of the countless mistakes within that particular bucket, there were at least seven distinct mistakes that led you to this very moment. 

One. It was a mistake to thank Alastor for holding the door open for you, the day you entered some run-down market in search of a book. Your voice had been surprised and sweet and ever-so-thankful.

Two. It was a mistake to let him strike up a conversation with you a few minutes later, and not pay attention to the horrified looks that even the most hardened patrons in the shop gave you.

Three. It was a mistake, later on, to think he was your friend; to believe that the shared meals, the late night discussions about music and books and little topics you’d forgotten you enjoyed, were a sign of pleasant companionship. 

Four. It was a mistake to sell your soul to Alastor, after his honeyed offers of protection from the seedier elements of Hell, his casual assurance that your friendship would go unaltered. 

Five. It was a mistake to move into the Hotel when Alastor asked, and not think there was some ulterior motive behind it all. 

Six. It was a mistake to think Alastor was actually kind, just because he was helping Charlie with her hotel, and seemingly protected those within it. 

Seven. It was a mistake to, on this day, ask Alastor if he would give your soul back, now that you’d decided to aim for heaven. Because you were friends, and he cared about you, and therefore, he should want what’s best for you--which is to get (you pardon yourself the phrase) the hell out of Hell. 

Every one of these seven mistakes--the last, you must admit, being the most significant--led you to here. 

To you, trembling on the floor, the tangy copper of blood in your mouth from where your teeth rattled against the end of your tongue when Alastor’s palpable anger made your knees literally buckle. 

“I… I don’t understand,” you spit out, voice trembling as much as your body. “I thought--I thought you…” The words don’t need to be spoken for Alastor to know them.

I thought you liked me, I thought you were my friend, I thought you would be happy to do it.

“You thought what, exactly, my dear?” 

A low electric current buzzed in the air, making the lights flicker once, twice, and again before he continued.

“That I would simply let you go?” He laughed, but there was nothing pleasant about the sound. It was full of mockery and something else, something metal and cold. 

Your stomach squirmed awfully. It was not a feeling you’d ever experienced around Alastor, despite some other’s trepidation around him. He’d never given you a reason to feel that way.

Until today.

Until you asked Alastor to let your soul go, and the room seemed to fizz with electrical interference that left the lights sparking and 

Your eyes went wide. And your brain, stupid thing that it was, pieced things together that you had been all too naively eager to ignore until now. 

The stories of Alastor’s past that you’d heard in snatches and dismissed as jealous fantasy, probably all deriving from Vox and his ilk. The way people who knew Alastor from before his sabbatical tended to steer as clear of him as possible. 

Or how Alastor always insisted you try the things he liked--clothes he left in your room (even before you told him where you lived, before the Hotel); music he insisted you’d admire more than your current collection of alt-rock CDs; foods that were tastier, he said, than your favorites. 

“I didn’t think--” The words stuck to your mouth until you forced them out. “I didn’t think you’d be mad that I wanted to get better, repent and--and get out of here.”

Alastor, despite his smile, did not look impressed.

You didn’t have time to flinch as he swung his microphone down and out, pressing it against your throat.

“Don’t act surprised now. After all,” The microphone dug into the flesh of your neck, lifting your chin until you were looking at him through blurs of oncoming tears. He continued, voice softer, missing most of its usual radio sound. “You made me like this.” 

You wanted to shake your head, but the microphone kept you only capable of looking up and straight at him. His smile made you sick. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, voice light, but not quite naive anymore; you didn’t fully believe the words now, and your voice wavered. 

Even if you didn’t mean to do anything to draw the attention of the radio demon, that didn’t mean Alastor wasn’t clearly--wasn’t clearly… affected by you. In some way that you didn’t understand; moreover, you didn’t want to understand it. 

What you thought had been a surprising friendship made in the bowels of hell was something else entirely, and you hated the newfound knowledge. 

Whatever it was that Alastor actually felt for you, it was dark and awful, like sprinkles of mold you find underneath the bathroom sink. Damp and rotting and unwanted. 

“You,” he said, pressing the microphone harder into your throat for emphasis, “have been quite the busy bee when it comes to me, my dear.” He sighed in a way you’d heard him do a hundred times before. But now it feels wrong; sticky, oozing. “I’d never given much thought to… certain endeavors before you. And now I find myself distracted.”

His neck turned again, cracking, and a song began to play from somewhere. 

“Distracted?” You asked, feeling sicker and sicker. 

“Oh, yes,” he answered, dragging out the word. “Quite unlike me, if I must admit it. And yet there’s something about you that’s been making me…”

He didn’t finish. The song got louder, mingling in with the ambience of the room. It was almost soft and wistful, except for the lyrics that made your skin feel cold, repeating on a loop.

And you’re mine… mine… mine…

“And you thought…” His voice continued, each word punctuated by an awful radio crackle that made goosebumps blossom up your arms. “That you would get to simply leave me after all I’ve put into you?”

All he’s put into you.

The dresses, the food, the guidance on what to listen to and how to dance; who to talk to and who to avoid. Advice from a friend, you thought. Advice from someone stronger and maybe smarter.

“Well,” he said, almost cheery now, pulling the microphone away from your sore and probably bruising throat. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson and we can avoid this…” A crackle, short and low. “Unpleasantness in the future.”

You should have said that yes, you learned your lesson; yes, you won’t ask again. But you didn’t. Instead you swallowed hard, feeling the ache from where his microphone pressed in, and added an eighth mistake to your list.

“We can avoid it if you release me from my contract--if you give me back my soul.” 

“Well,” he repeated. And this time, his voice was muffled by a brief, shrieking radio frequency. “Perhaps a reminder is in order.”

The reminder came with cold metal choking your throat; a vivid green chain led straight from your imprisoned neck to Alastor’s hand. 

One trembling hand came up to feel the collar. It was real. It was there. And the chain, too, was solid and unbreakable. 

It was a shocking sight. 

You’d seen the chains of other owned souls before. Angel’s, in particular, when you’d accidentally witnessed an argument between him and Valentino. But there had never been a singular thought given to the fact that you, too, must have had chains. Alastor never showed them to you and until now, had never seen fit to remind you about your lack of freedom.

Until today.

Your surprise and fear made you stupid, and you tried to yank yourself away from him; he held fast to the chain and began to wind it around his hand, forcing you to look upwards, speaking all the while.

“You are never to ask me to release your contract again. And you are certainly never to even entertain the silly notion of leaving me, now or in the future. Do you understand?”

An awful, slimy feeling overtook your gut. He owned you, and he had owned you for some time. You just had been closing your eyes to that reality.

A reality that was now choking you.

“Well?”

You nodded. You didn’t think you could speak, not now. Not to him. 

But it wasn’t good enough. He yanked on the chain, choking you. 

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

“Yes.” The word was spoken through gritted teeth. It tasted like tears. 

“Yes what?”  The grin on his smile widened deceptively as he yanked against the chain, jerking your head upward. It hurt inside and out. 

It was so unfair, that your heart could hurt like this, even after you were dead. 

“Yes, sir.”

That should have been the end of it. He should have let go of the chain and let you slink off in fear and shame, off to sob in your bedroom over the sudden turn of events. 

Instead, he leaned down, and for a moment, his eyes glowed in a painful flash. 

“You can do better than that, my dear, can’t you, to the person that owns your very soul?” 

His hand wrapped around the chain, shortening it even further as he leaned in so close you could smell the rot around him. But it didn’t matter that you wanted to pull away from it, because he held you--literally, held the chains that kept you bound to him. Forever. 

Yes, he owned your soul. He owned you.

“Yes, boss?” you murmured, copying what Husker sometimes said; you were unable to look at him anymore as humiliated, hot tears spilled down your cheeks. 

In an instant, the chain was gone, and you fell to the ground with a clumsy thud. Your chin hit the hard floor before you could brace yourself with your hands. 

“Wonderful,” he said, praising, almost cooing. His neck cracked to the side and you imagined his bones shifting in impossible ways to achieve it. “I suppose I should remind you who you belong to when you get out of sorts like this, my dear.” His smile widened. “A healthy reminder now and then is good for the soul!” 

He laughed. Whether he thought it was a joke or not was unclear. 

“Although, I hope I won’t have to remind you too soon. I do so enjoy your company more when you’re not being…” He waved his hand in the air, glancing up at the ceiling for effect. “Stubborn.” His eyes darted to you, accompanied by the faint sound of a radio hum. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you breathed out without hesitation, unable to stop shaking from your position on the floor.

“Good girl,” he said, patting the air above your head. You watched his footsteps until he paused at the threshold of the door. You heard his neck snap as he turned it back around--you didn’t dare look up to see. 

“Don’t forget to tidy up before dinner.  I’ve left a dress in your bedroom that I’m sure will look lovely on you.”

#yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere #alastor x reader #afterwitch writes #/

[aajjks]

FUCK! (III)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

warnings. mâtürè thèmês, jèälöüs koo, dïrty thöughts, ëxplïcït jökès, yn ïs ä säd gïrlïe, sünshïnê koo, #nô fïltèr kôôk, hörny kóó, hè ïs öbsëssèd wïth yöur tïts.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

series masterlist.

note. hi, share feedback plz, send asks because they keep me really motivated <333 ENJOY! And I’m so sorry that I’m so late with the update. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the story and if you have, please reread because I know you’re going to enjoy this. Thank you so much.

Honestly, you’re really strong.

You’ve been having a lot of bad dates and stupid, awkward encounters with your ex, Kyungsoo.

But thankfully, who is there for you? Your dear Jungkook. Your roommate who has been with you for quite some time now and it’s safe to say that you’ve gotten a lot of used to his presence, and his stupid jokes.

It’s a new day and you feel a little less depressed as compared to the last week, the sun is out and you feel really hot— literally because the weather is getting warmer and warmer.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch watching football, he’s kind of obsessed with it and he’s always screaming at the screen like a maniac, “WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! YN DID YOU SEE THIS?”

Your ears hurt.

He’s probably talking about some goal that you’re not interested in, How can you be when you’re actually really concerned about your love life these days, you and kyungsoo broke up up quite some time ago and you’ve been struggling with dating.

You’re definitely over him, so what is the problem? You don’t know when that’s frustrating you.

“shut up- you’re too loud.” You snap, closing your eyes and frustration because it’s way too early in the morning, you are definitely a night owl, and he’s quite literally sunshine.

Jungkook eyes are focused on you now, “Woah you need to get laid- I’m volunteering if you care.” His stupid remark has you glaring at him and he just laughs it off, he winks at you in return. And just after that he has started to shamelessly stare at your chest.

He’s not wrong- you do need to get laid.

And Yeah, you’re wearing a top so what? It’s really hot.

“you’re so hot.” Jungkook breathes out. You can see his eyes, and his pupils are quite bright. He’s got pretty eyes. He’s really pretty. Not that you would say that to his face because he will eat your brain that you complimented him and that you want to fuck him.

You don’t.

Well, you’re not sure.

“I know tell me something I don’t know, and stop staring at my tits- they don’t talk.” You scold him, but his gaze just doesn’t budge, you’re so used to him that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

You just roll your eyes at him. “Bet I can make them..” Your gaze hardens and you pick up a pillow from your couch and hit him with it.

He’s so shameless.

Jungkook pretends to be hurt, whining that you hit him hard. What a manchild, “quit it Jeon.” You warn him and he smirks. “And if I don’t? You’re going to punish me?! Please do.” He begs.

You scoff in disgust, but just then you get an idea- you’re going to mess with him. It’s your turn to smirk as you look at him in the eyes once again. “you’re walking on thin ice and you say that you want me to give you a chance, but… not sure if I should because you are a creep.” You shrug and it’s so satisfying the way his expressions change from smug to anxious.

You got him.

VICTORY.

“what are you talking about? I’m not a creep. And I…I please give me one chance all right I’ll stop my remarks.” he is struggling like an idiot. It’s is really nice to be in control.

“respectfully you just have nice breasts.” he shrugs, but you can tell he’s still panicking about what you just said. He ain’t wrong though you got nice breasts but it’s not nice to stare at them.

“Shut up- THIN ICE.”

You warn him, and he puts a finger on his mouth- his doe eyes are literally so panicky, “ugh I have work..” you whine- and Jungkook has started to focus on the game once again, “hey?! You have work too!!!? get up!”

“Yeah no. I won’t get scolded if I’m a little late because my boss kind of likes me.” He laughs.

What a fuckboy.

“you fuck your boss?!!” You know that’s not what he said or implied but you’re so curious, “uh no? Yn you’re mean!” he looks back at you acting so offended.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

You get up before he can even give you a reaction because you know he’s gonna freak out and your prediction is confirmed when you can hear him screaming like an idiot.

You smile as you go back to your room to get ready for work, it wouldn’t be a mistake to give him a chance because he obviously likes you and— he’s been asking you out forever, so why not?

But you’re not sure if you are gonna work out as a couple because he’s too much sometimes, But you’re still going to give him one chance to prove himself.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.”

You giggle as you shut the door behind you.

Sure.

He’s still having those wet dreams about you, it’s a struggle for him and he’s concerned because he’s never felt this way for anyone, and it’s just not the wet dreams.

His feelings for you are the main problem.

He annoys the fuck out of you and your both sitting in the couch, he’s pretending to watch football, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re right next to him smelling like a goddess, and that top of yours?

It’s torture.

Jungkook gets distracted for a minute when his favorite team scores a goal and he screams, he knows that you get annoyed with him and he does that but it’s so fun to get these reactions out of you.

He loves it when you tell him to shut up. And yeah it’s not your fault that you’re so hot because it’s really warm, you just have to make everything look so good.

He looks at you for a minute, and then his gaze just automatically goes to your chest.

You are quite magnificent.

“You’re so hot.” he can’t help but compliment you when you just shrugged and say that you know.

Your confidence is so hot, Jungkook tries his best to be subtle with his lust and attraction towards you, but sometimes it’s just impossible for his tongue to not slip.

He says some things that get you angry.

You hit him with a couch pillow, and he Reacts dramatically, he was just kidding about that one joke. “Ugh.” He whines.

And just like that you guys banter for a while, that isn’t until he fucks it up a little bit more, and you warn him

No, he cannot lose his chance with you.

“I…I please give me one chance. All right, I’ll stop with my remarks.” He is so stupid. Why can’t he keep his hormones and tongue in check?

He doesn’t want you to think that it’s only because he’s physically attracted to you, it’s more than that, yeah, he dreams about fucking you but he also dreams about being with you forever.

That’s how much he likes you.

So please just give him one chance— he thinks to himself when you bring up work and he knows that yeah he has to go to work, but his boss is quite lenient and the pay is really good.

He is watching the game once again when you accuse him of fucking his boss, he does not do that— Jungkook feels a little bad, because that’s all you think of him?

“uh no I don’t- Yn you’re mean!” he looks at you and this time your breasts don’t distract him, he wants you to think of him as a man that is of commitment, but he has a lot to prove.

He has really fucked up his chances—? He feels his heart break as negative thoughts consume him, and he cannot even log into your eyes anymore.

You get up, probably get ready for work because you take everything in your life or seriously and you’re Punctual.

You’re so perfect for him

But maybe it looks like he’s not perfect for you. And that sucks, Should he just give up on you? He’s not sure.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

Did he just hear you right? Did you really just say you don’t give him a chance? And then he can take you out on a date

He tilts his head so fast, absolutely freaked out, his eyes are white, and his mouth is agape,

He’s not being delusional right now, is he?

“Y-Yn what did you just say?

He stutters out because he really cannot believe what you just said right now, have you hit your head or something because he’s asked you the same question for the past year but you have denied him, so why the sudden change?

He feels so happy right now- jungkook gets up from the couch and goes after you, but before he can catch you, so we can confirm what he just heard you giggle.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.” Before you can actually shut the door he says it out loud.

and you shut the door behind you.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeongguk smut #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[theprettynosferatu]

Oh, you're awake. Finally. Please, look at the picture on the screen. 

You recognize her, I suppose. Look at how silly she looks, trying to be tough, trying to look cool. All that leather and black and studs… doesn't she look ridiculous? 

I see you nodding. Good. The special drink is grabbing hold of your brain. Making it softer. Malleable. You really should be more careful about accepting treats from strangers… but I suppose you won't have to worry about that anymore. Or anything else. 

Now, let's look at your social media. Lord, isn't that pathetic. Trying so hard to be clever, to be snarky, to be rebellious. It's almost endearing, like a puppy trying to walk in its hind legs. Come on, we both know it's all just a costume, don't we? One you've worn for so long you mistakenly believe it's a personality- one you developed when you were a teen. One you need to grow out of. 

Please, don't struggle. The knots are quite secure, I assure you. I've done this too many times to count. Why are you resisting, anyway? Do you truly, deep down believe this personality of yours is worth saving? Worth fighting for? Doesn't it just look as the pathetic attempt by a dumb girl to pretend to be something more? 

Ah. I see you squirming. Was it the "dumb girl" comment? I suspect it was. Your pussy knows I'm right, and it's screaming its approval. It's screaming for you to accept its truth, pulsing with neediness and wet with anticipation… I wonder what it is about that word. “Dumb"... it does have an effect on you, tough girl. Dumb. Silly. Stupid girl. My oh my, is that a moan that just escaped your lips? I’m sure it was. Feeling softer, are we? 

Softer indeed… I’m sure you can sense it still… the way it’s becoming harder and harder to focus. The way a pink cloud seems to be permeating your consciousness. The way you half-perceive the faint scent of cotton candy. The way you are getting more and more soaked by the second. 

Oh, stop struggling. Tell me, why do you hate it so much? The idea of actually being a cute, silly, horny girl? I can see it in your eyes- the loathing. The searing, pure anger. Why, though? I suppose you are imagining all those girls, those popular girls, those slutty girls, those bimbos that soaked up all the attention and the praise. Am I wrong? I don’t think I am. But I do think you are hiding. Yes, hiding what really happened. You tell yourself a story, one that makes you look good, or so you think. That you’re better than them. Stronger than them. More independent than them. A free thinker! A rebel punk feminist! But that’s not the whole story, is it now? No, we both know what really happened. You surrendered. 

Yes, that’s it. Your eyes can’t lie, you know. You surrendered because you could never, ever be like them, be as giggly and flirty and free- so you decided you wouldn’t compete with them on their own terms, and modeled yourself to be their opposite. How pathetic is that? Even in your resistance, you could only be defined by them, by your rejection of them. You became their dark mirror, and soaked in the attention of the leather-wearing so-called “punks” and the geeks and all the other rejects. But you know why they even looked at you: because the other girls, the pretty girls, the girls in pink wouldn't even deign to turn their gaze towards them. You were always… what they settled for. 

You think I’m being cruel. Well, I won’t deny that I get some pleasure from throwing the truth at your face. It’s always so much fun to watch you all fight, and moan, and deny that they would do anything, anything at all to be able to finger fuck yourselves to oblivion… But believe me, my cruelty has a purpose. I wouldn’t be doing this to you if I didn’t have a higher goal in mind. A benevolent one. 

I can take it all away. All that resentment, that anger, that anxiety… that constant, pointless quest to be… what? A professional? A successful woman? An independent soul? Please. That’s only so much set dressing. I can strip those delusions from you, give you what you really want. 

Imagine it with me. Tight white jeans showing off your ass, the shape of your legs. A pink tank-top, proudly proclaiming yourself to be a princess in tacky, gold lettering. The men turning their heads as you walk. Everyone being so nice to you at parties… because they want to see you on your knees, licking and sucking and worshiping their cocks, because they want to bend you over and use your slutty pussy as their plaything. And you… you would love it. 

No more fear. No more stress. Just the bliss of sucking three cocks, going from one yummy dick to the next, squeezing your titties together to give them the spectacle of their lifetimes. And then your cunt being filled, that hole you now hold your rage in given meaning and purpose by becoming a living set of holes for men to use, sensing the simple, plain joy of knowing you are doing what you were meant to do with your life. Knowing you are wanted. Desired. 

I see you’re drooling. Sounds like you like my little proposal. Well, there’s one simple way to sign this pact with me. You don’t even have to speak- speaking seems so hard now, doesn’t it? So keep quiet and let your slutty body do the talking for you. Keep your mouth open. 

There. Good girl. Doesn’t my cock look tempting? Amazing? Like you could just suck it forever? Yes, good girl… now, let me fuck your mouth- and know my cock is only the first of many. Too many to count. 

Then again, by this point you can’t count too high, can you?

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[rosedom]

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast. 

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—” 

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted. 

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days. 

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now. 

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.” 

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore. 

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway. 

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.” 

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare. 

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull. 

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap. 

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines. 

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking. 

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis. 

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch. 

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you. 

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne. 

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins. 

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts. 

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip. 

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing. 

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.” 

“Lyn—” 

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.” 

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you. 

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.” 

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on. 

“‘m already prepped.” Oh. 

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off. 

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs. 

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled. 

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you. 

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down. 

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.” 

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence. 

You’re so, so glad to love him. 

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?” 

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward. 

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt. 

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?” 

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.” 

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear. 

“Patience, pup.” 

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture. 

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters. 

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?” 

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed. 

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you. 

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—” 

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat. 

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you. 

Really, clean-up can wait. 

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】 #i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was: #1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg) #and 2) jrking off. #so !! #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord . #top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

[haikyu-mp4]

Media presence

word count; 649 – gn!reader, can you tell I love a manager!reader?

“Your lack of social media presence is simply unacceptable,” you said, trying to be stern even though your mind was thinking of what you wanted to have for dinner later. “Will you please work with me on this?” Being a PR manager for MSBY Black Jackals tested your patience every day, but Sakusa wasn’t usually your biggest problem.

However, the senior managers had started to pester you about his lack of presence.

Sakusa had one leg crossed over the other, hands interlaced and resting on his thigh as his eyes bore into you from above the face mask he almost always had on. He took a long breath, seeming to prepare for a whole discussion, but all he said in the end was “No.”

You stared at him with the tip of your pen resting on the notebook you had open on your desk, blinking as you registered his word. His one word. “I see. I do love these meetings with you, Sakusa. They’re so rewarding.” you kept mumbling sarcastically, finally moving your hand to write down some thoughts you had. The pen was pushing just a little too hard into the paper, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

While you weren’t looking, a small smile fell on Sakusa’s face from your visible frustration. Not that you would have seen it anyway, but he was always worried that his eyes were simply not as cold as he wished they were when he talked to you. “I feel the same way,” he said. It made you bite the inside of your lip, wondering if there was something behind his words or if he meant it sarcastically like you. The safest option was to assume the latter. You finally turn your swivel chair back towards him, holding out a piece of paper you ripped from the notebook.

“I wrote some options. If we make a contract with set demands, you can demand something in return,” you suggest. You were a promising manager for sure, with a sharp brain and an attractive way with words. Maybe that’s why Sakusa was so infatuated with you despite never making a move. “For example, you could get an extra paid lunch break in exchange for posting daily on your Instagram story.”

Sakusa looked at the list after taking it from you without touching your hand. He slowly nodded. “I’ll think about it.” His agreement to consider it made you smile wider, doing a quick little victory dance. Sakusa frowned, but only because he enjoyed it so much that it annoyed him.

“Wonderful! Maybe I can finally get the seniors off my back for wasting such a pretty face,” you say, focusing more on your work than the words that actually tumbled out of your mouth.

“Thank you,” he said, and this time you could hear the smug smile in his voice. Clearly, he spent too much time with Atsumu.

“Their words, not mine.” you try to defend, squinting at him like it’s a challenge.

“Mm. How disappointing,” he said, finally scooting the uncomfortable chair back so he could get up. Your gaze follows him, trying desperately to fumble for a way to win this.

“You’re always wearing that mask anyways, how would I know,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

The proud moment is punctured though, when Sakusa slowly turns his head to the huge Black Jackals poster hanging to your right where his face is in the front with no mask on. He turns back to you, mirroring your raised eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“Get out,” you say, barely holding back your laughter at the stupid interaction, hoping your cheeks didn’t look as warm as they felt.

“See you around.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” That was a lie, but neither of you needed to point that out. You both knew it was. For now, it could stay as an unspoken thing.

part 1 ║ part 2 ║ part 3 (final part) ║ masterlist

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #msby sakusa #hq sakusa #msby #haikyuu fic #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 8 - May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor

Guys, Max was never going to be her dad (that’s gonna be reserved for Christian lol). Everyone on the grid will be a brother figure, unless stated otherwise – like Fernando is leaning towards the wise grandpa rule and Lewis will be the cool dad (I have a funny story line to go with this idea). All that to say, Max and Kelly will look after her when she needs it most. I also switched the titles. On with the show, and don’t forget to comment if you want to be added to the tag list and or if it’s somehow not tagging you! Much love &lt;3  

Well, to Max’s dismay and according to google, you cannot adopt your 20 year old teammate that he had met hours earlier.. He had called Kelly early Thursday morning to whine. The more sensible part of his brain also knew that Christian wouldn’t let that happen either. And Kelly had to quickly remind him that he could still watch out for her. 

Max seemed to finally agree at the thought of being one of the protective adults in her life. He knew that you had your manager, who you seemed to trust. But, that didn’t help much when you spoke of how lonely you were. He was going to make it his mission to get you to move to Monaco, where he could keep an eye on you. 

“Maybe Christian could adopt her,” he muttered, staring angrily at his coffee. What that cup did to offend him, he didn’t know. But what he did know, was that he’d see you again later that night. Another festival for him to attend to. He only wished that Formula 1 went back to racing, and not putting on shows that had a strict attendance policy. 

At least you would be there. There was a change in the schedule so that you could be with him, Checo, Daniel, and Yuki on whatever thing they were being put on for the night. The buzzing of his phone ended his staring contest with his cup. 

It was a text from you. 

Little Racer : 

max, i need your help 

what are you wearing tonight??? 

i have an idea, and I think it’s stupid but i want to do it 

Big Racer : 

If it’s you, I don’t think it’ll be stupid. 

Probably what I always wear. Jeans and whatever Red Bull top they give me. 

Little Racer : 

that’s so grandpa core of you maxie 

and what is this all proper grammar for texting lollll 

you are not beating the allegations you millennial 

Max’s brows furrowed. He was not a grandpa or a millennial. He just liked to use the normal setting on his phone with proper capitalization and end marks. He would just have to ask Charles or Lando to see if they agreed with you. They wouldn’t though…would they? Your next message had him actually dying. 

Little Racer : 

do you think that Christian will be mad if i come dressed like elvis?

he said i could but i don’t know… 

Big Racer : 

You wouldn’t dare. 

Little Racer : 

oh boy ladies and gents, he doesn’t know 

*looks into the camera like an episode on the office* 

Big Racer : 

Did you seriously type all of that? 

Don’t answer. 

20 bucks says you won’t. 

The three little dots danced on his screen as he waited for you to respond. 

Little Racer : 

just you wait maxie, just you wait 

You didn’t text him anything after that. Max could only call Christian to understand what just happened. He picked up after three rings. 

“Hello, Max.” 

“Hi Christian. First off, happy birthday.” 

“Thank you son. But I know you didn’t just call me to wish me a happy birthday. You could have told me that later tonight.” In the background, it sounded like a coffee machine was running. Max hoped he didn’t wake him up. 

“Well, Y/n just texted me about wearing, uh.” Max didn’t want to say it out loud, because now it sounded stupid. 

“An Elvis costume? Max, the kid called me last night to ask. Said she didn’t want to ruin an image for us if she showed up like that. But I told her that it would be fantastic idea. Poor kid sounded scared.” 

Max let out a low hum. He didn’t like the sound of that. You were in no position to worry about such a thing. If anyone was to ruin Red Bull’s image, it would be him. He had no filter and Christian often had to tell him to reign in his thoughts. 

Max spoke, “I think I’m going to see about her moving to Monaco. She mentioned she has a flat in Nice, but that’s far away from Milton Keynes, and not close enough to anyone. Christian, she has no one.” 

It took a while for Christian to reply. Max could just imagine the older man running his hand along his forehead. It was hard to think of someone so young to be so alone. 

“Yeah, I think that would be best for her. I’ll make sure she can afford it. Hell, it could even be a property that we buy just for her to stay in when we have breaks.” 

Max listened and nodded his head along. Now it would only be to convince you to move. But suddenly, he remembered his previous conversation with you. He smacked his hand on his head. 

“Is everything alright Max?” the Brit on the phone questioned. 

“I just lost 20 bucks.” 

You however, had no idea that this conversation was happening. All you knew was that you had the go ahead from Christian to wear your beloved Elvis costume. Would you make a fool of yourself? Maybe. 

But who cares. It’s Vegas. To your chagrin, Vito had told you that there would be no walk out, but there would be dramatic paddock entrances. He still promised that you would get your song. That’s all that mattered to you. 

While you waited for the night to begin, you roamed the hotel. Because you were bored, you actually did a lot. 

You started off with breakfast. You were sad that they didn’t have the machines that made Texas-shaped waffles, because that was only in Texas, but the pancakes would do. And because you’re trainer would kill you for not eating well, you took it upon yourself to have a yogurt with some fruit as a side. 

After letting the food settle, you went to the gym for that daily grind. It had been a while since you had been able to work out, but you needed to get back on track. You would be racing tomorrow and you needed to be at your best. You lifted some weights first, starting with the smaller ones as warm ups before you got to the bigger ones. The stretch bands were very useful as you squatted the weights. 

After you were done, you hopped on the treadmill. By using the lower speeds, you were able to practice your runway walk, as if you would ever be a model. But the speeds increased and you found yourself in a full sprint by the end of the run. Five miles wasn’t bad, and you knew you could have gone farther, but you wanted to take a quick dip in the pool before getting ready. 

The water was a nice cool down for your overheated skin. Running was not your first choice of exercise. You’d rather run out of money, than run in real life. It didn’t make sense, but it did. The chlorine in the water was making your hair gross, so you decided to get out so that you could take a shower. 

Like the kid you were, you had your outfit laid out the night before, as if you were going on a fieldtrip. 

You allowed to take your time in the shower. It wasn’t every day that you made your F1 debut. That had your bones chilled. Your Formula 1 debut. You. Putting your head under the stream, you rinsed out the hair mask that you put on. There would be no nervousness. You were born for this. 

The thought of Max’s texts earlier made you giggle. You were glad that he was so welcoming. You would be much more nervous if you had met the infamous Mad Max. But this was more cat-dad Max. Kind Max. 

You only hope that you won’t screw things up. 

You turned on your playlist as you started to actually get ready. You ordered room service so that you didn’t have to go somewhere to eat. The food was amazing, well, as amazing as hotel food could get. You curled your hair as the remnants of your skin care routine dried. You mumbled the words to a song as you stuck a French fry in your mouth.

Once your moisturizer and various oils and toners dried, you started on your more pronounced makeup look. You knew you were going to be photographed throughout the night, and you needed to look good. Looking at the window, you noticed that the sun was setting. That meant that it was time for you to get dressed, and Vito would be there to pick you up shortly. 

Your outfit consisted of a sparkly white crop top and some white pants. A red scarf topped the outfit off. 

You would be arriving right behind Max and in front of Checo. You were excited to see the two men again. Moreso, you were excited to earn 20 bucks. With sunglasses on your nose, you were ready to hit the Sin City. 

Vito could hardly contain his laughter when you got in the car. 

You raised an eyebrow, “What?” 

He shook his head as to somehow rid himself of his laughter. “Nothing kid.” 

“Well Christian said I could wear it. I’ll blend right in. And besides, I’m almost immediately changing into my race suit.” 

He nodded his head at your reasoning. You had pulled off crazier things before, so he didn’t know why he was surprised. Maybe it was because he thought that you might not want to in F1. But, on the inside he was happy that you weren’t losing your child-like nature. He never wanted to see that seeming innocence to leave. He knew that you weren’t totally innocent, but he never wanted to see you hurt to an extent that you quit being happy. That was his favorite thing about you. You seemed to care about what others thought of you, but you knew how to make yourself happy. And if wearing an Elvis costume to the paddock would make you happy, then he would protect your decision. 

You could see the flashing lights even before you got out of the car. American paparazzi were on another level. You knew that Red Bull were one of the last ones to show up, and that freaked you out. Almost every single driver was already on the other side of gate. Your nerves settled when you saw Max get out, and you wanted to follow him. But, you realized that this was what you were waiting for. 

The familiar sounds of 33 Max Verstappen (the original one) could be heard through the car doors. Max’s face morphed into one of almost disgust. You let out a giant laugh and rolled down your window before you knew what you were doing. 

“Max, I love the music. Very Mad Max-esque.” 

He quickly flipped you a loving middle finger as he scanned his card to be let into the paddock. Multiple Elvis impersonators gathered around him for a picture. You hadn’t noticed, however, that the moment you rolled your window down, all of the cameras and photographers were now pointed at you. 

You buzzed with energy when you heard Life is a Highway start to fill the air. 

On the other side of the paddock, Max had stopped to talk to Lando, Oscar, Carlos, and Charles. He also was waiting for you so that you could walk with him to the Red Bull hospitality. He glanced over to see if you were out of the car at least. 

“Nice entrance mate,” Lando clapped him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes. He’s sure that you roped Christian in to play the song. 

“Well what did they play for you?” 

Lando deflated and muttered, “Let’s go Lando.” Carlos and Charles, along with Max, laughed at his demise. 

Charles suddenly looked over Max’s shoulder. At that moment, Carlos spoke up. 

“I didn’t know Checo was a Cars fan.” The drums and guitar seemed to be turned up to the highest setting. What. An. Entrance. 

Max had a glimmer in his eyes, “He’s not.” 

And suddenly, there you were. In your Elvis costume. And you were loving it. You waved at all the people around you, quickly becoming a crowd favorite. 

From his right, Charles hums and Lando’s jaw is dropped. 

“That’s the new rookie, correct?” Suddenly, George was with them, along with Alex. 

Max only chuckled. “Yep.” He popped the “p.” 

Charles spoke up, “She’s nice. I met her at Arthur’s birthday party, but didn’t speak to her much.” 

“You all will love her. Trust me,” Max said, eyes widened as you got crowded with the other Elvises. You smile could outshine a thousand suns. 

Your eyes quickly met his and you gave him a giant wave. He beckoned you to come over. You flashed a nervous look before it melted away, replaced with bravery. If there was a time to meet some of the grid, you really hadn’t wanted to be dressed as Elvis. 

Your steps were quick and you made it over in no time. Now, most drivers are tall, but look short next to George, being the giraffe that he is. However, you were another thing. 

You’d definitely be taller than Yuki by a couple of inches. But you stood closer to five-foot-six (167.64 cm.), almost 5 inches shorter than Max, and four inches shorter than the rest. 

You gave a shy wave as you spoke, “Hi, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You suddenly remembered something. You turned to Max and held out your hand. 

The boys’ eyes widened as Max fished out his wallet and placed a bill in your outstretched hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you sir.” You mocked a salute. 

Lando tsk-ed, “What did our Max loose a bet on?” 

“He said I wouldn’t come dressed like this. Little did he know, I’ve had this in my closet for years.” Lando couldn’t help but laugh at your revelation, and neither could Carlos and Charles. 

“Yeah, kid, you should have told me that Christian already gave you the go ahead.” 

“And where’s the fun in that?” You had a shit-eating smirk on your face. Lando was the first one to speak up. 

“How old are you? Max over here keeps calling you kid.” 

“I’m twenty.” 

It was an amazing recreation of that one tik-tok trend. I’m twenty, insert looks of disgust, uhg. Your heart dropped at their reactions. 

It was Carlos who surprised you. He quickly patted your head, “Aw, just a baby.” 

You looked at him in awestruck. You leaned over to Max and all but whispered, “Max?” 

“Yes kid?” he said in full voice. 

“He’s older than you right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I do the thing?” Max looked Carlos up and down before smiling. 

“Go right ahead.” The smile that you had was wiped off your face. You squared your shoulders and held out your hand. Carlos took it with a confused look. You gave him a firm handshake. 

“Thank you Mr. Sainz.” You swear he did a full body cringe. He was about to say something, but Christian had waved the two of you over, yelling something about time to get ready. 

You flashed a smile at the small group, “It was nice meeting you!” You all but bounced away as Max calmly walked by your side. 

“Did she just?” Lando looked to Carlos, who was frozen in his spot. He looked like someone had just told him that his car had blown up on the way here. 

He looked at his hands. “Mr.,” he gulped, “Sainz?” 

Oscar finally piped up. “Well, you are old.” Carlos looked close to a breakdown. 

Charles put a hand on his shoulder as he watched you and Max walk on the ramp. Max’s face was now stone-cold, yet yours still radiated so much warmth. “Come on mate. We got to go.” 

As they walked away, Carlos questioned, “I’m not old, am I?’ Charles could not, would not, should not, give him an answer. 

Lando and Oscar just looked at each other and then back at the disappearing duos. Laughter filled the air as they also began to walk to their respective hospitalities.

As you and Max got closer to the garage, you got a little quieter. 

“I don’t think they liked me very much. I knew the costume would be a bad idea.” The look of dejection was all over your face. Max looked over at you and huffed. 

“Kid, they just don’t know you yet. They’re also stressed about this race. No driver liked to drive on a track that was built in a month.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Kid, I’m always right.” You hit his shoulder. 

Christian was quick to get you, Checo, and Max all together for a couple of pictures. Since it was Christian’s birthday, there was cake and everything for a small celebration. After, the three of you were told to get into the racing suits for the opening celebration. 

You were with Mitch while you did so. 

“You’re telling me. That Kurt Cobain is going to perform. And I’m going to miss it! With John Legend!” Your eyes were wide as you zipped the suit up. 

“For the last time kid, you can meet them after.” You pouted as you tied your shoes. 

“Fine. But let me say, this is very Hunger Games of them. So Americanesque.” Mitch just let you talk. 

After you were ready, minus the helmet and all that, Mitch led you to the glass box. You turned to look at her. 

“Promise me that you’re not going to be dragged away to your death. This is so Katniss Everdeen coded and I cannot lose you like she lost Cinna.” Mitch was going to tell you off for worrying too much, but she could see through your eyes that you were trying to actually tell her that you were scared of the whole thing. No wonder you were rambling, you were just nervous. 

Mitch brought you into a hug and squeezed. You practically melted as you squeezed her back. Over your shoulder, Max was looking at the whole ordeal. He’ll give you a hug right before they went up. He knew how scary this world was. 

Mitch was given the signal that everything was about to start. You climbed into the box and some official closed the door. 

Mitch looked up at you, “May the odds be ever in your favor.” Your jaw dropped in appall as you were slowly being lifted. So she did know the movie! 

Max put a comforting hand on your shoulder as your face was suddenly hit with a breeze. All around you, people were cheering and lights were flashing. You suddenly wished you had brought your sunglasses with you. 

Max scoffed as he raised his hand to wave. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“This isn’t racing. We’re standing here, being observed, like a bunch of clowns.” 

“At least this won’t last long. We’ll be in the car soon Max.” You were right. If it meant anything, he would be back in the car soon, in his element. 

A beep let you three know that the machine would be going down in the next few moments. When the machine jolted down, you quickly stood up straight, hand behind your back, and put three fingers to your mouth. Your lips kissed your fingertips before you held the three fingers up. 

It was still loud as you did it, but the crowd died down as they watched you and mirrored your display. You watched in awe at the raised hands. 

The three of you lost sight of the crowds as the box was now back where it started. Max looked at you in bewilderment. 

“What was that?” 

You let out a large gasp. “You’ve never seen the Hunger Games?” You must have been loud because someone else gasped as well. Looking over, you were met with the sight of blond hair and striking blue eyes. 

“Max, you’ve never seen the Hunger Games?” Logan stomped over. 

“Dude I know. So not girl boss of him.” Max looked at the two of you in confusion. Girl? Boss? 

You and Logan were quickly swept into a conversation about American tendencies while Max just stood in between the both of you, looking like he’s in the middle of a midlife crisis. You and Logan were only pulled away when you needed to get into the car for free practice. 

As you left, you turned around and faced Logan, giving him a look of faux sympathy. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” 

“At least you didn’t volunteer,” Logan laughed as he turned away. 

 Max was still in the middle of his midlife crisis when Christian came to tell everyone that it was time to head to the garage. 

You felt your heart rate picking up as you got closer to the garage. You took a deep breath and exhaled. 

It was show time. 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #ollie bearman x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Things Ethan Landry would text- (Fem Friend Reader) PART 3

Warnings- mentions of smut, knifeplay, sexting, fearplay, confessions to murder.

If you guys like this, I’ll make an extended version, where I write a story in Y/n’s pov that happens after this texting story:)

The Ballad Of Terror

Y/n: hey loser

Ethan: Loser? that’s new.

Y/n: but true

Ethan: no good night text, bunny?

Y/n: ugh stop calling me that. I promise I don’t jump that weird.

Ethan: in PE class you look like a rodent

Y/n: shut up

Y/n: I want something else first before you get your good night text

Ethan: let me guess. You need homework answers?

Y/n: I don’t get anything in science. I don’t even know what a molecule is.

Ethan: luckily I’m smart.

Y/n: luckily.

Ethan: click to view

Y/n: thank u <3

Ethan: np.

Ethan: hey, how are you and David doing together?

Y/n: why?

Ethan: I’m just curious

Y/n: maybe being curious isn’t always the right thing to be

Ethan: I’m your friend who wants you to be happy.

Y/n: I am happy

Ethan: with David?

Y/n: why are you asking that like david can’t make me happy?

Ethan: because I don’t think he could

Y/n: he does.

Ethan: oh, yeah?

Y/n: yes.

Ethan: as in, present tense?

Y/n omg yes

Y/n: why do you care so much?

Ethan: you broke up with him last night.

Y/n: how did you know that?

Y/n: Ethan??

Y/n: who told you

Ethan: no one told me.

Y/n: then why the fuck do you know?

Ethan: I watched you get that text. You cried over your bedside table.

Ethan: don’t leave me on read

Ethan: cmon

Y/n: how do you know

Ethan: I watched you through the window.

Y/n: you’re my friend

Y/n: this is scaring me

Ethan: Don’t be scared. Remember when you told me that you loved the real me?

Y/n: yes.

Ethan: this is the real me.

Y/n: a stalker?

Ethan: For you,

Ethan: Yes.

Y/n: if you were watching me, what was I wearing?

Ethan: That Ivy League shirt I bought for you in 2018.

Y/n: what pants, then ??

Ethan: oh, that’s the best part.

Y/n: please

Ethan: you weren’t wearing any

Ethan: you hiked your thighs to your chest

Ethan: you were wearing black panties

Y/n: you’re a fucking creep

Ethan: don’t be like that.

Y/n: how long has this been going on?

Ethan: How long have I been in love with you?

Ethan: or watching you sleep

Ethan: ?

Y/n: i should call the police. do you stalk other girls?

Ethan: you’re the only one for me

Ethan: nobody makes me feel the way you make me feel

Ethan: All those girls meant nothing to me. They couldn’t replace you.

Y/n: what girls?

Y/n: you’re a manwhore now?

Ethan: don’t be stupid. I didn’t fuck anyone

Ethan: I killed them

Y/n: im calling the police

Ethan: I disconnected the system from your number

Ethan: you can’t call anyone for help

Y/n: what do you want from me?

Ethan: Don’t you want to know?

Ethan: Why I did it?

Y/n: no

Ethan: I want to hurt you. Is that bad?

Ethan: it just turns me on so much

Ethan: to imagine you begging for me

Ethan: begging me not to slice you open

Ethan: fuck your brains out until your screaming my name

Ethan: i want to use you

Ethan: and you and I both know you would enjoy it

Y/n: you’re ghostface

Ethan: oh

Ethan: what gave it away ?

Y/n: you piece of shit.

Ethan: I don’t think you should insult me right now

Y/n: why? you gonna kill me??

Ethan: don’t tempt me.

Y/n: but apparently I already am. I’m basically asking for a knife to my throat, aren’t I?

Y/n: to watch your cock enter me as you choke me

Y/n: god, it would turn me on so much!!!

Ethan: I don’t take sarcasm too well

Ethan: if your asking for it, I’ll give it to you.

Y/n: im blocking you

Ethan: you can’t hide

Y/n: I’ll lock my doors. Get my parents to call the cops when they come back.

Ethan: your parents aren’t home?

Ethan: That changes things.

Y/n: I locked everything

Y/n: leave me alone

Ethan: why did you assume I was outside your house?

Y/n: please leave me alone

Ethan: let’s play a game of hide and seek, y/n.

Ethan: you run

Ethan: you hide

Ethan: and we’ll see if I can catch you.

Ethan: and if I do…

Ethan: god, I love making you my victim.

Y/n: Ethan please

Ethan: 3

Ethan: 2

Ethan: 1

Ethan: time to run, bunny.

🩷

#ethan landry x oc #ethan landry x female reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark smut #slasher smut #smut imagine #smut #scream smut #scream movie #scream #scream vi #stalker #slasher x y/n #slasher fucker #slasher trope #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slash fanfiction #slashers #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x oc #ghostface x you #ghostface smut #ghostfcce #ghostface x reader

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddieweek2023 #dio words #listen i barely got any sleep last night and it’s almost 2am again and i’m SO tired so if this doesn’t make sense if it’s too repetitive or #anything??? then that’s just how it is (wap bap) #they all love each other so much it’s a whole mess #would love to give you hurt/comfort tomorrow but that would be rather soon huh #also please nobody be mean to/about chrissy i swear to god #everyone who’s commented and/or reblogged the first part: HI HELLO MWAH!! 🤍🌷

[gothic-thoughts]

Music To My Ears

Gojo Satoru x Black GN Reader Smut

MDNI, Perv Coworker!Gojo, Bimbo!Reader

CW: all the dirty words(he's a whore), stupid and oblivious Reader, Gojo jerking 📴 to your voice, reader being fluent in Yapanese 😭, imma degrade y'all cuz u lack brain cells

Word Count: 1,191 (give or take)

It was 11 pm, and you were on the phone with your coworker, Satoru. You've been talking for about an hour now, but after a while, you noticed soft huffing and heard soft panting. Since there's not much going on up there, all you thought to do was tilt your head to the side with confusion. You shrug it off and continue to yap, but the longer he listened, the more he groped and palmed his erection through the grey sweats he wore.

“Uh, Gojo?” Your first mistake was saying his name.

“Yeah? What’s up, girlie?”

“You good?"

"Say again?" He heard you perfectly fine, but you can't tell can you?

"I asked if you were good. You workin' out right now?"

“Hah, yeah.” He responds before muttering, “I'm workin' somethin', ngh."

“Huh? You keep mumbling, Toru.”

"Hehe, don't worry about it." More panting "Just...continue your story."

You shake your head, believing his panting really came from a workout regimen, knowing damn well the strongest sorcerer don't need one.

“So like I was saying...”

He chuckled and made a low growling noise as he reached into his sweatpants, feeling how damp his boxers were from how much precum soaked into them. He bit his lip, slowly pulling out the erection that you caused from that voice you blessed him with. Every inflection, filler word, and gasp when you remembered another part of your story drove him so wild.

“And then I was like, ‘Ohmygod, Shoko’s not working for once?’ So I ran up to her...”

He grunts, trying his best to keep his voice away from the whiney territory he knew it could rise to if he felt too good. To you, his breathing sounded a bit...off, as if it sounded heavy and...well, different than normal. But he was working out, of course, he’d sound like that.

“The only reason I hesitated was because I feel like she don’t like me...”

With every passing moment, his fist passed over his shaft while his left hand kept a firm hold around his base, keeping him from exploding too soon, and with how often you clicked your tongue or sucked your teeth, he could’ve at any moment.

“Do you think she likes me; ion think she likes me. Anyways, though...”

The grunting sound only grew in pitch as the groans started to sound more...animalistic, mouth forming a smirk. He whispers your name, guiding his hand up and down his cock a little faster, getting the palm sticky with precum.

“Toru...” The concern in your voice makes his hand stop, “You sure you okay?

He bites his lip as he moans softly, watching another drop of precum squeeze out his tip and slide down to his still fist. "Yeah... heh...” 

“You huffin’ like a dog.”

“Oh sorry. I’m doing... I’m doin’ some push-ups right now so..." 

"Ohhhh, aight."

"Keep talking, short stuff."

"You even listening, Gojo?"

"Of course I am, I can, ngh, multitask."

"Mmm..."

The little hum of yours made him bite his bottom lip so hard that it bled. "I mean it, girlie." He sighs, "Hanging on every word. You were talking about your shopping spree."

"Oh yeah! I got a bunch of clothes with Utahime today! And they are the fuckin’ cutest! Like, there’s one that was...”

He groaned quieter as he heard you continue on, pumping his hand up and down to the speed your excited voice spoke. His fist twists with each stroke, grinding his red, sensitive cockhead into his palm which makes him shiver. The sound of his breathing had become noticeably heavier and deeper. He didn't respond just yet, instead, he only let out low grunts and 'mhm's in response to what he heard you say. He started to lift his hips from his bed, fucking his fist while pretending it was him making you ride him.

“And I got new lip gloss. Like a lot of lip gloss; cuz you know me...”

He did, in fact, know you; meaning that you prolly got almost every color, scent, and flavor imaginable just to try out. That sentence was all it took for the strongest sorcerer's mind to switch from thoughts of how good you'd feel bouncing on his long dick to how soft and wet your mouth was. You talk so much so it's gotta be moisturized as hell, not like he wouldn't make you use so much spit it made the colors on your lips smear around his veined shaft.

He whined into the speaker as you rambled, but TRUST he was listening. His eyes were rolled back, his hand began pumping faster, massaging the swollen head of his cock while his free hand gripped the base. He wanted to smear that lip gloss, stick, whatever so bad; just the thought of leaving your plump lips and chin stained with white and whatever other color made his full balls tense.

"H-hey, short stuff? You think you can you count down from 10 for me?"

"Yeah, why?"

"For my workout, remember?"

"Ohhh, right." You let out another oblivious giggle, "I forgot about that."

"Y-yeah, I'm, uhm, planking... and I'm al-most....done. Count for me."

"Kaykay. Ten.... nine..."

His hand slows down, trying to time his orgasm with that sexy voice. Gojo groaned and grunted, letting it all out since your dopey ass wholeheartedly believed he was tired from overexertion.

"Eight... seven..."

"Yesss~" He whispered, "Suck it, baby girl, that's it. Show me those eyes."

His breath got shallow as he looked down at his thighs, imagining you were scratching at them while your glazed-over eyes blinked up at him.

"Six... five..." 

"Yeah, not a fuckin' thought behind them, huh? F-uck, lemme give your mouth somethin' else to do."

Unable to help himself, he speeds up his hand, coating his entire dick in his own precum. His back arches from the bed as his hips thrust up, fucking his fist as you got close to one.

"Four.... three..."

"So fucking close, s'fuckin' close. I'm...gonna...cum. W-wanna cum in your mouth, baby please."

"Two... one."

"Ah, shiiit!!"

He let a resounding, drawn-out growl as pent-up cum spurts from his cock, shooting across his slim fingers. He continued driving his shaft through his fist, body shaking on his bed as his load continued to spill over his hand. He finally calms down, resting on his bed, and looking down at the cum all over his abs and lower stomach, clinging to his happy trail and pubes. 

"Damn," Your voice snaps him out of it, "Did you hurt yourself, Toru? That sounded painful?"

"N-no, I'm okay just...." He gulps thickly, collecting himself, "J-just planked longer than I could handle, heh."

"Was that okay? Did I count too fast or...?"

"Haah, no. It was perfect, girlie, th-thanks."

"Oh... uhh..." You tilt that empty head of yours, "What was I saying...?"

"You were talkin' 'bout... gettin' some clothes from Utahime... I think?"

"Oh, yeah! Then I was talkin' bout lip gloss!"

"Yeah, yeah." His cock slowly starts to harden again, putting a tired, yet devious smirk on his face, "Tell me what colors you got."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(a/n): eat up.

#black writers #black reader #x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #black bimbo

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them. 

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders. 

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so. 

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle. 

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him. 

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow. 

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard. 

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went. 

Life should’ve felt perfect. 

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times. 

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you. 

What are you doing right now? 

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with? 

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you. 

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you. 

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore. 

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him. 

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan. 

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone. 

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words. 

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway. 

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did. 

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room. 

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin. 

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release. 

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either. 

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears. 

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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#gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojou x reader #anime smut #jjk smut #fanfic smut #jjk fics #anime fics #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #cheating fanfic #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojou satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk fic #satoru gojou x you

[taintedcigs]

OMG LITERALLY LOVED POLAROIDS SO MUCH DUDE 🤭

Also if your taking requests could you maybe write Eddie x fem!Scoops Ahoy Worker!reader

✦ A SCOOP OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS | e. munson x reader ✦

wc: 2k+

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

warnings: not a lot of warnings tbh, just swearing, jealousy, fluff, like annoyingly fluffy, i hope this isn't cheesy and tiny tiny bit of angst if u RLLY squint

summary: eddie is really enamored with the new scoops ahoy worker, and is jealous of how her and steve get along so well.

authors note: NONNIE PLS EXCUSE HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO WRITE THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A LONG TIME!! im so glad u liked polaroids and now i hope u like this as well and hope i did ur request justice <33 this concept was so fun to write!! ITS ABIT CHEESY BUT I LOVE CHEESY SO EXCUSE ME PLS! also lmk if u want more like this or all ur requests and any of ur feedback pls send me an ask abt anything ily all <3

eddie LOOVES ice cream, and most of all, eddie loves going to scoops ahoy with dustin and annoying the shit out of steve.

it's like their weekly routine at this point, getting ice-cream, but also trying all the flavors so they can get free ice-cream, steve and robin always end up yelling at them.

so eddie entered the scoops ahoy shop with a smirk on his face, and the mission of annoying steve, but his smirk is wiped off and he is almost baffled by something, or rather someone.

you.

he is intrigued at the sight of you, standing next to steve, pouting your glossed plump lips at him for something he is saying, and you look so pretty, that it catches him off guard. even with that stupid scoops ahoy hat on top of your hat, eddie thinks you look so fucking good that it's unfair, and he is too dumbfounded to speak.

you laugh at something steve says, and it makes eddie's heart skip a beat. his mind is fuzzy when he's staring at you, he wonders if you're new here, because if someone as angelic as you worked here before, he wouldn't have missed it.

his attention is drawn back to robin, who tries to take his and dustin's order and dustin asks to try his 100th flavor "god, will you take eddie and dustin's order i need to go on a break!" she exclaims shouting your name, groaning. you nod quickly as you wave steve away.

a warm smile is plastered on your face, "welcome to scoops ahoy! what can i get for you, dustin" you point to dustin, guessing the kid steve always talked about must've been him, and then you turn to eddie.

"and, eddie?" you smile, also remembering him from steve's stories, as he told you all about eddie and how he was 'not jealous' that dustin had gotten another older brother, who played the 'same stupid nerd game as dustin'.

"you know my name?" eddie asked, his eyes widening and his mouth dried up. "robin just told our names, you doofus." dustin lightly nudged him, and a blush crept up eddie's cheeks, his first words to you and he already looked like an idiot, great, he thought to himself.

"oh, not only that but that one talks about you two all the time!" you said giggling as you pointed to steve.

"all good things i hope." eddie chuckled and you gave him a warm smile again, nodding. the way your eyes sparkled as you smiled was etched into his brain forever, dustin realized eddie's adoring looks but he kept his mouth shut.

"so, uh... what kind of ice cream would you like today? we have a lot of flavors!" you asked, showing them dozens of ice cream flavors.

"i'll have one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough, and same for him, if that's okay." eddie said, smiling at you.

you looked up at him, your smile widening. "coming right up!" you said sweetly, grabbing a cone and getting to work.

as you did so, dustin lightly nudged eddie's shoulder, eddie could barely turn his head around to dustin when all he could do was focus on you. "what?" he asked annoyed.

"dude, you have to ask her out!" dustin exclaimed excitedly and eddie threw him a look as to say 'keep your voice down idiot, she's right there!'

"what?" eddie asked playing dumb and dustin rolled his eyes, "you've been gawking at her ever since we walked in, just ask her out!" dustin encouraged eddie.

but eddie didn't know how he was supposed to do that. he was the 'freak' of hawkins, and you were- oh you were so pretty, so nice and you seemed so kind. he couldn't even manage to get his words out when you were around, let alone ask you out on a date.

"maybe next time, kiddo." he gave dustin's shoulder a squeeze, as eddie watched you laughing at steve's jokes again, and sighed.

he knew you were out of his league and possibly suited better for someone like 'king steve' anyway, but it didn't stop him from returning in a few days.

"eddie, hi!" the way your face instantly lit up and how you remembered his name, made him smile, eddie was putty in your hands with just two interactions.

"one scoop chocolate and one scoop chocolate chip again?" you remembered his name and his order? eddie's heart was about to burst out of his chest, you were giving the poor boy hope with just existing.

he nodded, and you scooped a generous portion of ice cream into a cone. "will that be all?" your tone was so sweet that it was making eddie sick.

"um, yeah." eddie said, feeling a bit flustered. he took the cone and turned to leave, but then he hesitated, dustin's words rang in his mind. he knew he at least had to start more conversations with you.

"hey, um, do you have any recommendations for other flavors?" he asked, his voice was still timid.

you grinned, excitedly. "oh, there are so many! have you tried the mint chocolate chip? it's my personal favorite." when he shook his head no, you immediately grabbed a spoon feeding him the ice cream.

you excitedly waited for his feedback, your eyes were glimmering, "really good." he managed to get out with a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, making you giggle.

even if eddie wouldn't have liked the flavor, he would pretend that it was his favorite flavor for the rest of his life if it meant he would get to hear your pretty laugh and those dreamy eyes again.

and eddie knew he was obsessed now, he didn't want to be so hooked on you, but you made it easy, so very easy.

and in the next few weeks, eddie started coming to the shop more often, finding excuses to try new flavors and linger around you at all times. and the more he came the more he got comfortable with you, always making small talk, while trying to be funny and charming, but always feeling like he was failing miserably.

but you didn't seem to mind. in fact, him always coming around to see you, and your conversations were the best part of your day, and your job.

you were always laughing the hardest at his jokes, asking him about his day, and even sneaking him extra scoops of ice cream every now and then.

but eddie had one problem.

steve.

he was always there, talking to you, and making you laugh, jealousy was starting to consume him.

he couldn't help the agonizing anxiety inside of him that made him feel like he wasn't good enough for you, especially compared to steve who seemed to be a ladies' man and had a natural charm to him, along with the 'king steve' title that eddie felt he lacked, the only title he had was, 'the freak'.

and eddie couldn't get you out of his head. his head was constantly filled with thoughts of you and the little moments the two of you shared at scoops ahoy.

so when he came to the shop the next day, he had one thing on his mind. he had to at least try his chances, and ask you out.

"hi, honey." he greeted you, the nickname was something you felt so comfortable with, and it made you feel so giddy inside.

"hi, eds." he loved the nicknames you gave him, 'handsome, eds, pretty boy.' he could feel his insides about to burst when you called him any of them.

when the two of you fell into your routine conversations again, eddie felt comfortable, he felt at ease with your presence, and he realized he could really do it, he could actually ask you out.

so when he called out your name in a soft voice, he gathered his courage, clearing his throat.

"i just wanted to ask you if-" but once again, his voice was drowned out by steve, and he sighed his anxiety was starting to bubble over when your shift instantly focused to steve.

"shit- sorry i'm late, again!" steve's voice was irritating him now, and you waved steve off, to say that it was fine.

"you're only late like 5 minutes." you offered him a smile, and as steve gave you a hug to greet you eddie could feel his stomach knotting up.

he tried to stay composed, but he couldn't help his mind getting fuzzy about his insecurities.

when you returned to eddie, you could sense he was off. "sorry handsome, what were you saying?" you asked, as you gave him a sympathetic smile.

but eddie was distant, and even the 'handsome' nickname, wasn't enough to ease his worries "oh, it was nothing important." his voice was timid and he was now lost in his own thoughts.

"is everything okay?" you asked, your voice filled with worry.

"yeah, yeah, you can go back to your thing with steve, i didn't mean to interrupt." he meant for it to sound casual, but it sounded bitter.

you looked at him, furrowing your brows. "what?" and when you saw the way eddie looked at steve, it clicked.

all the times when steve came and interrupted you and eddie's conversation, all the times steve made you laugh, eddie always had the same disappointed look on his face that he did now.

and you actually face-palmed at the realization, and gave him a chuckle, causing eddie's attention to shift to you again as he gave you a puzzled look.

"jesus- eddie, have i ever told you how i started this job?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"we moved into hawkins a few weeks ago, my dad told me i had to find a summer job and then my cousin told me he got this new job at scoop's ahoy, so i thought why not? and i signed up as well." the information was slow to process eddie's brain.

"steve is my cousin, eds." you said, a smug smirk played on your lips, and eddie immediately felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. "oh."

"shit, i didn't know. sorry." he shook his head, glancing down at the floor.

he wanted to laugh at how foolish he had been, worrying about steve this much in the last few weeks.

"it's okay, i mean we do hang out a lot, but that's because he's my favorite cousin, and it's really fun to be able to annoy him 24/7." you giggled and eddie chuckled, nodding.

he felt a surge of relief, but he wanted to slap himself for being jealous over nothing.

when the conversation between the two of you went back to normal eddie felt comfortable around you again, and he decided to push his plans to asking you out to the next day, his cheeks still blushing at the mention of steve.

so when he says his goodbyes to you, it makes you groan, and eddie tilts his head, confused, as he turns his attention to you.

"are you ever going to ask me out?" you asked, impatiently, and you felt desperate to do so, but you had spent weeks flirting with eddie, and it was driving you crazy now.

eddie blinked slowly, not believing the words that were coming out of your mouth his heart pounding in his chest. "w-what?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

you huffed, "i mean i've been flirting with you for weeks, and i thought you weren't interested, but you did nothing." you pouted, and eddie felt like he was going to faint.

"shit, honey." now your heart was pounding out of your chest, the nickname, again, was enough to make you melt.

"fuck, i've been trying to ask you out for weeks, but i thought you weren't interested, especially because i thought you were interested in steve-" you made a gagging sound at that and his mouth turned up into a soft smile.

he felt like he was dreaming, he felt so stupid. "would you wanna go out with me? maybe to that new restaurant that opened up just right down the street?" he asked, intoxicated by your hopeful eyes.

"yes," you replied, without hesitation. "i would love to."

eddie grinned sheepishly at you. "great," he said. "how about tomorrow afternoon?"

you nodded eagerly. "tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect."

"see you then." eddie replied, appearing to be casual and trying to hide the fact that he was screaming internally. and trying to comprehend that he was actually going to go on a date with you.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #scoops ahoy!reader #eddie munson

[norrisleclercf1]

Hi i asolutely love your writing especially the dad Storys. So i really need an dad oscar now. Something like at the birth or when the reader teils him that he is pregnant. Just much fluff also ofc.

Ly❤️

A/N: Oscar as a dad? Are you kidding me??? Um yess, also Oscar is is normal age and I don't mention the readers age for those who might older than him

"Oh god." Burying your face in your hands as you see those two little lines pop up on the pregnancy test. "Fuck, fuck tequila, fuck that stupid print race, fuck all of this." You curse ripping open the bathroom door and storming away.

You're pregnant, and you don't know how to tell your boyfriend. He's fucking 22 and here you are knocked up with his baby. "If I could drink without fucking you up, I would you little alien." You weren't sad, scared, happy.

No, you were pissed. Pissed that you didn't make Oscar wear a condom, pissed that you didn't take your birth control. Pissed because you didn't know how he might react.

Just angry at the world, you had no one to blame but yourself for this mess. Sitting in the kitchen, staring at the glass of wine you could no longer to drink. Oscar comes home, sweaty from his morning workout with Mark.

"Drinking already? Little early don't you think?" Fingers poking your stomach you swat the hand away. "Don't touch me." You grumble, Oscar's face falls. "I'm sorry." Now you want to cry because your being a bitch, and Oscar looks like a kicked puppy.

"Go shower, waffle you smell." Voice softer as you lay your head back on the kitchen island staring at the forbidden grape juice. "Okay, whatever it is, we can talk." Oscar kisses the top of your head.

Sighing you think back to the pregnancy test. Oh fuck, the pregnancy test. Right when you jump up you hear Oscar yell. "Don't drink the wine!" Rushing out of the bathroom holding the cursed white stick.

"Don't...." He gasps sucking air. "Drink the wine." Huffing and puffing you sink back into your chair. "I'm not drinking it, Waffle. I'm staring at it and how much I'm going to miss it." Oscar throws his hands up in the air.

"Are you pregnant?" Oscar looked like a wild animal trying to figure out of if this was a prank or not. "Yes, I'm pregnant." You grumble still showing no emotions scared of his reaction. "What? When the hell...but we...what?" His brain breaking down you sigh hard again.

"After the dumb sprint race. You got second and we got drunk, and we both said fuck it. The sex was really good, clearly too good." Pointing at the damn white stick in Oscar's hand. He blinks looking at you and the test then your stomach.

"I'm....I'm going to be a dad?" The way his voice cracks has you sitting up. His cheeks are red, nose blotchy and eyes glossy. "I...we're going to be parents?" He asks again walking to you. "Yeah, we're going to be parents Oscar." He wipes his eyes, not caring he was sweaty or smelling hugs you.

Having him hug you, breaks that barrier you built fast. "We're going to be parents." You sob, Oscar laughing as he hugs you tighter. The two of you spent the day crying and cuddling. Oscar didn't care if people judged him for having a kid so young.

Little Roo was going to be kept safe. Of course you refused to call yoru child a kangaroo, but Oscar made the argument that you're carrying the baby like a kangaroo. The comment has you stare at him, him just chuckling saying he needed to take a shower.....again.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #f1 fluff #dad!oscar #f1!dad #oscar blurb #oscar fluff #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagines

[wellofdean]

Thinking about @luckshiptoshore and her liveblog of watching Supernatural and how much I love following it and how great it is to watch someone just fucking ENJOY the show...

And then, there were a couple of people in my Discord who love the fic, but have never watched the show, and folks in there were trying to convince them that it was worth watching (duh!) and that knowing the show by heart makes the fic so much better and like yes, again... DUH! And then I was suddenly overcome with such a feeling of ENVY for all the people who still have the chance to watch Supernatural for the first time already knowing what happens in the end.

I mean, I watched 14 years of it in real time (after downloading and bingeing season 1) and at least I was clever enough not to be in the fandom trenches that whole time, and just enjoyed it for what it was, but the end broke my brain, and changed the whole show for me.

Because, like, here's what happens in Supernatural by the end: Dean and Cas are in love. It was not subtle. Dean can't say it because he never has a single moment of not being up to his pretty, pretty eyeballs in dealing with the ongoing and constantly multiplying trauma of being the man his father raised him to be, and god's specialest boy to boot, but in the end, Cas finally does just fucking say it. Not only that, he waits until he can use it to save Dean, and show him once and for all in an incontrovertible, undeniable way exactly how deeply and truly loved and SEEN he is.

When you watch it knowing that, knowing that the the whole story is going to end in that stupid bunker dungeon with Cas telling Dean who he is and dying to save him, the whole thing just HITS DIFFERENT, because the Dean of season one with his outcast liminality and pretty, pretty lips is the poor, lonely, weird boy who will one day be loved like that by Castiel, an angel of the lord -- an impossible Eldritch being who learned what love and selfhood are from closely observing Dean.

The consensus amongst most Supernatural fans is that it is trashy and bad and that its all evil queerbaiting, but I would contend that it's actually deeply entertaining, culturally rich and interesting (yes, even its flaws and missteps), often impressively well-written and acted, never puts on any airs about being prestige television or high art, but still manages to be ultimately epic and somehow sublime, and that it's a queer story, about queer love saving the universe, and it is so, so worth watching.

Like, my brainworms are not 'they strung me along all that time and then never let them make out', by brainworms are 'they told us so many times and in so many big and small ways, and now I need to watch every bit of it again and again and again so I can finally REVEL IN IT (and, friends, that is the Supernatural rewatch journey: realising it was ALWAYS THERE). My brainworms aren't 'but does Dean reciprocate??' they are: 'of course he loves Cas, and of course Cas knows that Dean loves him, and the one thing Cas can't have? That's just his chance at happiness and a soft epilogue with and for Dean, because Cas, impossible, cosmic, Eldritch being Cas, traded his chance at happiness for his family's lives and sacrificed himself for love of his son and Dean, because that is what you do when you love someone, and what he has watched Dean never stop doing for even a minute of his beleaguered life.'

And then, Dean dies (yes, it's stupid), and he cannot just go to heaven, drink a beer and hang out, he needs to climb into his magic soul vehicle, hit the axis mundi and tear the universe up looking for his angel and his happy ending in The Winchesters? Fuck me.

And like, it's the most romantic, and devastating story I have ever been told? And I love it so much?

#supernatural #anti-trashnatural agenda #I am sometimes overwhelmed by how much I love that story #and dean #fuck I love dean #and castiel #angel of the lord

[lovelyhan]

elaborate in that shua imagine rn 🔪🔪🔪

JOSHUA — 00:51

i wasn't going to but i'm sooo horny worked up for shua these days that maybe i can use a little self indulgence 🧍attached the fansite pics that drove me insane in the middle of the day for funsies too <3

warnings: school uniform kink? smut (MINORS DNI)

"it wasn't this tight before." joshua pouts as he checks himself out in the mirror right after buttoning his shirt. "my friends used to tease me for being all lanky back in tenth grade, too."

it takes you a while to formulate a response—definitely not because you're distracted by the way the taut fabric of his old high school uniform visibly strains against the delicious circumference of his biceps. joshua glances behind him with a quizzical look.

"uh." you gulp, hoping to god that he didn't notice the way you almost drooled. "you go to the gym like thrice a week. i think the gains are very much spoken for."

your clipped response makes him arch an eyebrow but your boyfriend doesn't really comment on it. instead, he turns back to gaze at his reflection and promptly flexes his arms—the poor short sleeves doing their best not to tear at the seams.

fuck. you can feel your core throbbing at the supposedly innocent sight of your boyfriend admiring his own hard work. you cross your legs from where you're seated on the swiveling chair by his desk, silently pleading for your brain to please get out of the gutter.

"guess you're right," joshua laughs softly. "didn't expect that it'd be tight around the chest too though. maybe all that weight training was worth it after all."

"but baby, why are you looking at me like you wanna fuck?"

long story short, that's how you ended up on top of joshua's childhood bed with your skirt bunched up your hips—his long, thick cock sliding into your velvet heat with a torturously slow pace.

"you're such a filthy girl, aren't you?" he chuckles, tongue swiping along his bottom lip as he watches his length disappear inside you. "my mom is kind enough to cook us dinner downstairs but here you are getting worked up because of an old uniform. you like my arms that much, baby?"

you hate how joshua knows you like the back of his hand. you barely even gave away any hint of being turned on by how his shirt emphasized his broad shoulders and beefy arms, but he's got killer intuition after all.

"y-yes," you dole out pathetically, helpless from how deliciously he stretches you open. "so fuckin' hot, shua... got wet just looking at you. couldn't help myself."

your boyfriend sighs, planting his palms flat on either side of your head as he gazes at you lovingly and ravenously at the same time. he halts his movements completely as he lets you feel the way his cock throbs inside you.

"so impatient," he scolds. "couldn't wait until we got home before giving me those pretty bedroom eyes, huh?"

not seeing any incentive in saving face with a lie, you nod. "need you now. p-please fuck me shua. wanna get split in half on your cock—!"

he meets you halfway with a harsh thrust that makes the headboard thud against the wall, momentarily startling you out of your fucked out haze.

"god. fuck, baby," joshua rasps before leaning down to graze his teeth along the cut of your jaw. "don't say those kinds of things. we need to be quiet. wouldn't want my parents knowing how much of a dirty girl you are—wanting to get fucked stupid in my bed on the first visit—now do you?"

you shake your head—a prickle of rationality miraculously still floating amidst your lust-addled mind. joshua's parents are absolute sweethearts. they welcomed you into their house with open arms and wanted nothing but to make you feel at home.

what they don't know—and you hope to god won't ever find out—is that you feel most at home with your hot boyfriend fucking you stupid.

"joshua," you whimper quietly as he pounds you into the mattress—his arms flexing with the strain of thrusting into you with vigor while staying as quiet as possible. "you fuck me so good, baby. fucking love your cock s-so much!"

"you sure it's my cock that you love, not this uniform?" he breathes with a condescending smile—the muffled noise of skin slapping against skin ringing in your ears. "i've never seen you get horny so fucking quick over any other outfit i've worn before."

you can't even chide him for insinuating that you have some sort of school uniform kink or whatever—too delirious with how the vein running along the underside of his dick slides along your gummy walls. the wet sound of sex fills the room and you can only hope that neither of his parents would hear what's really going on in their only son's bedroom.

"'m so close, shua," you plead, tears catching along the line of your lashes as you hook your arms around his neck. "fill me up, please, please. need to feel you come in me, baby—i want it."

"needy fucking girl," he growls before hooking the back of your knees across his elbows—fucking into you with waning precision. "i'll finish inside this needy pussy and you'll sit at the dinner table with my cum dripping out of your hole. you want that, huh?"

before you can wrench out a semi-coherent response, joshua crushes his lips against yours before lifting your ass higher from the mattress. the new angle makes the fat head of his cock graze the sensitive patch of flesh deep inside you—making you cry out pathetically against his mouth.

your pussy clamps around joshua's heavy length with a vice grip, eyes fluttering as your orgasm washes over you like a storm surging into calm shores. your boyfriend isn't too far behind as he starts muttering obscenities against your lips before you feel his hot cum surge into your battered cunt—filling you until overflowing.

he strokes your hair lovingly as you both come down from your high, shared pants saturating the air with heat as he flashes you a ditzy smile. lightheadedness aside, you roll your eyes before mustering what little strength you have left to lean in and press a kiss on his lips.

then, a knock on his door interrupts the quiet afterglow.

"joshua, dinner's ready. both of you head back down, okay?"

he looks at you before stifling a soft laugh, slipping his softening cock out of your ruined hole before flashing you another heart-rending grin.

"we'll be right down, mom."

#svthub #seventeen smut #joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #📝 drabble #writing this was not in my bingo card tonight #but look what 071023 joshua did to me anyway 🧍 #lovelyhan