#but then i felt like i was becoming the people i was complaining about so i just stopped lol

[waterlilydrops]

Fortune Favors the Ambitious (1/?) - Second Driver

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!driver!reader

summary: your first step into the F1 world: becoming the second driver for Mercedes. This is the part 1 of a female racer’s story, encompassing her victories, failures, pain, weaknesses, and love.

word count: 6k

warning: mentions of brocedes, mentions of sexism, descriptions of crash scenes, screw with some race results

note: this is my very first try of a series story, suggestions are appreciated! This fanfic contains a lot of roasts about drivers, cars and the sport itself, if it offends you, I apologize.

You joined Mercedes AMG in your first year to step into the seat unexpectedly vacated by Nico Rosberg, who had just staged a feud with Lewis Hamilton. After four years of intense and ruthless competition, Rosberg finally won his first and only WDC this year. Then he chose to retire and took a seat in the media box.

This passionate friendship story between a pair of childhood friends and prodigies did not end well in the end. Instead, it became another dismal footnote to F1’s primeval law: there are no true friends in the paddock, vividly proving that the best way for two drivers to remain good friends is to stay away from each other, to not become teammates.

After races, drivers from different teams could still complain to each other, saying things like “my poor understeercar” and “oh, don’t even mention it, my team took 13.4 seconds to pit”; They could console each other, saying, “Hey, it was tough for everyone, but I felt like if…, you would definitely make it to the podium, bro”, “Of course you would too, I knew you were awesome”and so on. Comforting each other with this kind of contradictory exchange, satisfyingly smoothing over any discomfort caused by competition, forgetting moments like “he almost hit me and caused me DNF” and reassuring themselves with “there’s a difference between on and off the track, it wasn’t his fault, I would have done the same thing”.

It was indeed hard to accept when two drivers, despite having the same performance cars and theoretically receiving equal support, one of them was harshly differentiated, forced to do the dirty work, give positions to their teammates, only to be simply comforted with phrases like “Oh, we treated them fairly, it was just that one performed a bit better”, “Drivers needed to establish team spirit and help each other”.

What? Why did it always seem like one was helping the other?

F1 was not essentially a team sport. 20 drivers competed for one championship.

However, it was really a team sport. A team of thousands of people surrounded the two drivers in the team to serve, not out of charity, but for real returns like money and impression. Therefore, it was inevitable that the team was eager to maximize the group’s interests. The necessary sacrifice spirit for the team and the endless selfish desire of the individual to win formed an eternal contradiction in the paddock.

This blunt competitive pressure, the often unfair team environment, and the resulting jealousy, anxiety, and uneasiness could make even a saint sitting in a cockpit at temperatures reaching 70 degrees explode mentally, hurtling at over 320 kilometers per hour towards their teammate's wheels, sidepods, or any other position. And then being retaliated against with the same hatred by the other party.

As the curtain fell on the drama, no matter what, Mercedes had to find a new recruit.

The opportunity to enter F1 is by no means easily within reach.

You were the lucky one. Not only were you naturally talented, but you also came from a rich family who could support your move to the UK for karting training. You had parents who unconditionally helped you chase your dreams, and in lower-level racing, you had hardly faced any financial difficulties. It was well known that kids from the slums could gather to play football made by newspapers, but the road for a racing driver was paved with gold. Thanks to your parents’ connections, the process of finding sponsorship for higher-level racing surprisingly went smoothly: half of the interested sponsors backed out the moment they saw you were a woman, while the other half chose to take a gamble.

You’re unlucky. Being female is your natural disadvantage in this male-dominated sport. When you started to shine in GP3 races, you felt deeply powerless knowing that as a woman, you had to do better than boys just to get the same opportunities — boys only need to showcase talent and skills to be considered by higher-level teams, while you get questioned about “whether emotions will affect your stability” and “will your period affect your performance”. It's absurd. You even couldn’t possibly get the same chances as boys in big team future programs. Let alone testing in old model F1 cars, you had very few opportunities to even test on F1 simulators. You chose to grab the lifeline thrown by Marussia and become their reserve driver.

From blockbuster rookie to seasoned driver, you dominated GP2 for two years. You and the boys used the same engine and the same frame,You didn’t have a driver dad, so there is no F1 team engineers to adjust the car for you. you relied solely on your talent and determination. You won 9 races, stood on the podium more than ten times, and became the champion with the highest points in the history of GP2.

A brilliant result that forced F1 teams to seriously consider their driver lineup.

“Who will fill the empty the seat at Mercedes?”

“Why Y/N Y/LN is the next big name?”

“Is she the first female F1 driver of 21 century?”

Indeed, why not? Why not have given a deserving female driver, who had already proven her mettle, a chance to shine on the world stage? Offer her a one-year contract — allow her to break barriers and challenge norms in a traditionally male-dominated sport. With her presence alone, she brought invaluable media exposure to the team, each stride she took destined to be immortalized in the annals of history alongside the illustrious name of her team.

After testing in simulator, you sat in front of Toto Wolff and several executives. Only you knew that there are six or seven GP2 drivers vying for this seat, not to mention F1 drivers who want to drive the Silver Arrows.

“If your teammate — I’m not specifically referring to Lewis Hamilton, this is just a hypothetical scenario — if your teammate, he is in the state of competing for the championship, and due to some accidents in a key game, he unfortunately falls behind you and another rival from another team, what would you do?” Toto asked, his gaze seeming to pierce through the soul.

You remained unexpectedly calm. Without hesitation, you answered, “I’ll push the first-place car away, allowing Hamilton, who’s in third, to directly take the lead and win the championship.”

After the interview, during the debrief with your team manager, she sighed at your answer. “You should have played it safe,” she said, “You should have said something conventional. Talk about helping him defend, giving him room, and if necessary, try to fight for the title yourself. That’s the standard answer. Don’t let them perceive your aggression and ambition.”

You couldn’t agree with that.

You knew Mercedes just want a driver for Lewis Hamilton who won’t tear the team relationship and the car to pieces.

But if winning hadn’t been your ultimate goal, you wouldn‘t have chosen the path of racing. You should go get an MBA to help with the family business, and from then on, your biggest connection to racing will be attending hometown races as a sponsor.

And the word “ambitious” described you perfectly. You certainly had an insatiable, oversized desire. In a paddock where victory had long been claimed by men, you boldly stepped forward to stake your claim, ready to seize what was once exclusively theirs and make it your own.

You might always remembered that cold autumn day in London.

The basement was filled with dry warm air and the smell of sweat, each breath feeling like burning hot coals in your lungs. Your sweat melded with the rough wooden floorboards. Your breath echoed in the empty room, accompanied by the dull thud of dumbbells hitting the ground, like a lonely symphony.

The phone rang just as you stepped onto ground.

You stared at the blinking name of your agent on the screen, your heartbeat quickening, your fingers trembling slightly. What would this call bring? Fifty-fifty, your confidence and self-doubt intertwined: you were the best young driver of your generation, bar none—if you didn’t get the seat, no one would. Yet, reality also coldly reminded you that perhaps no team would be willing to take a chance on a female driver, right?

You answered the phone, your agent's voice urgent on the other end, like a mother scolding a child who had caused worry: “Y/N, you finally picked up! I've called you twenty times! I thought something happened to you!”

“Sorry, I just finished training. What’s going on?” You tried to keep your voice calm, but inside, it felt like countless hands were squeezing you, making it almost impossible to breathe. Countless possibilities flashed through your mind, and you were even afraid to know the outcome, fearing it would shatter your hopes. If you missed the next season, you didn’t know if you’d ever have such a good opportunity again.

She took a deep breath, the one-second pause feeling like an eternity to you.

Thankfully, her voice regained excitement.

“Y/N, you’re driving in F1 next season.”

Despite the chaotic emotions swirling within, your voice was much calmer than expected. “So, which team decided to take the risk?” Just a week ago, you had met with Williams team, who had a precedent of accepting women as reserve drivers. You had tried so hard to control the slight trembling of your fingers due to nerves and sound nonchalant. Entering F1 had already been a dream come true, but the thought of driving for the Silver Arrows — waves of excitement surged through your mind, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your chest.

There was almost an uncontrollable smile in her voice as she responded, as if every word was pulsating with joy. “Mercedes. You’ll be the second driver for the team.” You could almost feel her excitement transmitting through the signal.

Your mind went blank for a moment, your heart racing, as if all the voices in the world had disappeared in that moment. Only that word echoed incessantly in your mind. Mercedes.

“Is this... is this real?” Your voice trembled slightly.

“Of course it is real!” Her laughter held a hint of pride. “Mercedes has already sent a draft contract, we discussed some details, and we could announce it before the awards ceremony.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your emotions. “Thank you, thank you for all your support and help.”

“You deserved this, Y/N. Go celebrate tonight.”

In just two minutes, the rain in London had soaked your hair, droplets sliding down your cheeks, blending with your clothes. But you didn’t feel uneasy about it; instead, you felt a sense of joy blending with nature. You even felt like this ordinary rain was celebrating for you, baptizing you for your mission.

You knew you were ready to face the storms and rainbows of the racing world.

“Mercedes AMG F1team: Y/N Y/LN will line up alongside Lewis Hamilton in 2017”

“There is no doubt about Y/N’s skill and determination. Although F1 is extremely demanding on physical strength, she has proved that she is fully capable of meeting challenges.”

“Can women truly compete with men in extreme sports like F1? I have my doubts. Is this just a gimmick by the teams to attract attention and sponsors? Can she really make results? While gender equality is a noble idea, F1 requires the best drivers, regardless of gender. Is she truly capable, or is she merely a symbolic choice?”

Perhaps your unnormal answer touched the executives, and you had been granted a one-year, highly demanding contract—although they may have been satisfied with your willingness to be a second driver, whether you could be a consistent and unwavering second driver, that was still a cruel, untested new question for the team.

The first winter break as an F1 driver was eventful, even more so than you imagined. You had countless forms to sign, filming videos for promotional content was a daily task, and there were endless meetings with engineers. You met your race engineer — a talented woman full of potential. You couldn’t wait to see how your performance together would unfold in real races. Meanwhile, the media swarmed, eager for exclusive interviews, and even Vogue wanted to feature you on their cover before you had ever sat in the W08.

Your first meeting with your teammate was for simulator testing. You’ve crossed paths with him on various occasions several times — during a race, at FIA awards ceremony — but this marks the first time you met Lewis Hamilton as his teammate.

You shouldn’t have been fixated on this, but you felt Lewis Hamilton had far more charm than any video or picture could capture.

You still remembered the moment he pulled you into a hug. His black eyes shimmered with warmth, and despite his muscular arms, his embrace made you feel comfortable and secure. It was hard not to gaze at the tattoos on his smooth skin as his voice, gentle yet magnetic, with a slight British accent, said, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hello, Lewis. I’m so glad to be your teammate.”

“The honor is mine. Perfect GP2 season, huh? Highest-scoring champion.”

For some reason, you were glad he noticed your achievements — not as a female driver, but as a driver. Not with labels like the first female F1 driver of the 21st century.

“Thank you, Lewis.” You tried to remain as calm as possible, masking the subtle excitement within.

Lewis lightly patted your shoulder. “We’ll do a mega job together this season.”

You nodded. “We will, I’ll give it my all.”

You didn’t disappoint anyone.

On March 26th, your first race in your F1 career took place in Melbourne, Australia, and you smoothly made it onto the podium, not at all like a rookie. In the following four races, you secured three second places, making people to cry out about how damn fast the W08 was. Some even said that even the rocket car would seem reserved compared to a car could turn a rookie into a podium driver like that.

Of course, the fans who watched the race didn’t attribute your performance solely to the car’s speed.

You had abandoned your aggressive driving style, making your car flow smoothly like water along perfect lines, calmly following Lewis Hamilton. Anyone attempting to overtake you found themselves ensnared in your relentless defense.

Whether it was starts, tire saving, or long runs — things rookies often struggled with — you performed exceptionally well. Your only technical weakness seemed to be overtaking, but this flaw was completely offset by the W08’s superior performance. And to the team, being bad at overtaking was an advantage. After all, the only car usually ahead of you was Lewis’s. Why bother being good at overtaking?

Mercedes could only rejoice at your precise and forceful defense and your unwavering support in driving and escorting.

Lewis’s viewpoint evolved over time. At first, he might have entertained thoughts like “two more races and she will demand more chances”, but as he witnessed your performance on the track, his sentiment transformed to “damn, she’s really something special”. It was a gradual realization, punctuated by moments like when you quietly secured yet another victory for him.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Lewis finally broached the subject in cooling room. “You had fresher tires. Why didn’t you ever try to overtake me?”

“My contract states that without team orders, I can’t overtake you.” You couldn’t help but notice the slight embarrassment in Lewis’s expression.

“Besides,” you continued, offering a smile, “I’m not that good at overtaking anyway.”

Your first victory came in the first GP after the summer break, at your home race. With such an outstanding and eye-catching local rookie driver, it was undoubtedly the biggest event of the year for fans.

The stands were packed, every corner filled with enthusiastic supporters waving flags, cheering, and shouting encouragement for you. It was more than just a race; it was a celebration, with the entire city immersed in joy and pride.

Your path to victory, however, was full of surprises.

Initially, Mercedes executed back-to-back pitstop strategy perfectly. Kimi's second pitstop should have put him between you and Lewis or right behind you, where you could block him. But the Mercedes pit crew had an unusual difficulty; they struggled with the left front tyre, leaving Lewis in the pits for a staggering 11.4 seconds. By then, his chance for the win had disappeared. He dropped to 7th place and took 13 laps to fight back to fourth, eventually getting stuck battling Sebastian for third.

Meanwhile, you and Kimi were locked in a wheel-to-wheel duel for a full five minutes.

Since you entered the pits right after Kimi, you were behind him when you came out. Your tires were in exactly the same condition. Even though theoretically this year Mercedes’car had more advantages, you were not good at overtaking, and you were stuck in a stalemate despite your best efforts.

At this moment, your race engineer on the radio confirmed that Lewis had no chance of winning and encouraged you to push for the win.

You bit your lower lip as you looked at Kimi ahead of you.

For the first time all season, a burning emotion surfaced clearly and definitively in your mind: you felt you could do it. Not with your usual rational judgment, but with an adrenaline-fueled belief. You could prove that you were not just a reliable team driver but one of the best in the sport. This time, you were destined to stand on the top podium and become a champion.

Your fierce competition elicited constant gasps from commentators and audiences.

“Y/LN is now the sharpest blade of the Silver Arrows — just two laps to go! Turn 2!

Räikkönen cuts inside perfectly! It’s useless! Y/LN remains calm, anticipating as if living in his mind!”

You knew your home track inside out —Turns 1 to 3 is a combination of gradually tightening corners, and Turn 15 at the end of the back straight connected the highest speed on the circuit to the slowest turn — ideal for overtaking.

Your head ached as if a blood vessel might burst, but your mind was excited. You tried to breathe calmly, reporting speed, tire condition, balance to the team with a steady voice. On the final straight, you and Kimi both opened the DRS, crossing the line under the checkered flag.

The next thing you remembered was the fireworks whistling through the sky. Lewis pulled you out of the car, hugging you excitedly, jumping up and down with congratulations — finish line footage and speed checks had confirmed you won, just 0.05 seconds.

The crowd erupted, celebrating the first home championship in history. You sat on top your car, waving to the fans and staffs.

Waiting, stepping onto the podium, spraying champagne.….. Kimi and Lewis both aimed their first sprays at your face. You closed your eyes, letting the champagne flow down your cheeks as if they were your own tears. The crowd’s celebration roared through the night, with every face radiating pride and excitement because of you. Your rookie season, your home race, your first victory. It felt like no moment could ever be more perfect.

“Y/N Y/LN to Make Herstory as First F1 Female Race Winner”

“From Rookie to Champion: Y/N Y/LN’s Epic Battle with Kimi Räikkönen for Victory”

“Yes, it’s been a rollercoaster ride. We made mistakes but did a great job of fixing them and finished with 1-3 podium.

The duel with Kimi was intense; I have to give him credit for pushing me to my limits.

I want to thank the fans who came out today and those who sat in front of their TVs to support me. Winning in home means a lot to me.

No, I won’t overemphasize the meaning of this winning. It’s just one of many in my F1 career. Soon, everyone will get used to a female driver winning races. I believe that.”

Your performance gradually stabilized in the following races. Even if you didn't become a race winner again, you consistently finished in the points. While your peers were still vying to be the team’s core, you miraculously silenced the haters by winning third place in the WDC, earning a three-year, higher-paying contract with Mercedes.

In such a friendly atmosphere, it was hard for your relationship with Lewis not to warm up.

On the track, he would wholeheartedly defend you when he was behind, and off the track, he acted as your mentor, helping you get rid of the bad mood caused by self-doubt. He always skillfully handled awkward questions from journalists for you and knew the best restaurants in every race city.

After you declined Lewis’s invitation to go skydiving during the winter break, he invited you to his home. There, you met his family, who gave you warm hugs just like his. His nephew brought out a bunch of your merch for you to autograph, saying he supported you in every race.

In the 2018 season, although Mercedes maintained a dominant position, they encountered formidable competition from other teams, most notably Ferrari. This rivalry intensified throughout the season, reaching a climax at the German Grand Prix, where fans were treated to a spectacular and dramatic spectacle.

Mercedes’ race strategy was essentially centered around you — Lewis’s car had a mechanical failure in qualifying, starting from 14th in Hockenheimring.

Even though the W09 was fast enough, starting from the back made it easy to get caught in traffic jams. Lewis needed to overtake as many cars as possible before the rain starts, and you needed to push hard to challenge Seb, aiming for the win if possible. At the very least, avoided crashing into the barriers. This increased your pressure, as Mercedes was 20 points behind Ferrari in the Constructors‘ Championship, and today’s points would likely depend mainly on your performance.

Started in the front, you found yourself locked in a tense battle with Sebastian’s Ferrari, the red car a formidable obstacle in your quest for victory. Today Ferrari was incredibly fast on Seb's home track.

In between two prancing horse, you feel quite passive, all you could do was patiently wait for their mistakes. The good news was that Lewis was climbing up, and there were soon two Mercedes among the front runners.

The sky started to rain, making the track slippery and driving more difficult, leading to a flurry of activity in the pit lane as teams scrambled to switch to wet tires. You weren’t particularly good in the rain, now was also not a good pit stop window for you. So you had to move the brake bias during the race to deal with the tricky conditions, keeping your W09 on the race line.

“I got a bit of a tankslapper on, but I managed to get it back.” The race was a bit challenging for your soft tyre.

“Good job, Y/N.”

However, when the rain got worse and more widespread, Seb lost control at Turn 11 and crashed into the barriers — the turning point. The safety car was deployed.

The team radio crackled to life, the voice of your race engineer guiding you through the chaos. “Y/N, Box, box, box.” you made pit stop for new tires under team orders during the safety car period, while Lewis decided to stay out on track at the last moment.

What a genius decision. During the 20 seconds the pit crew was searching for the tires, your only thought was being glad that Lewis didn’t came into the pits, with a mix of sadness and relief. Otherwise, a double podium would have turned into a double disaster.

Thankfully Kimi pitted on the following lap. Amidst the chaos of the race, there was a dramatic and rapid reversal of fortune. As the rain shower began, what initially looked like a dominant 1-2 finish for Ferrari was swiftly transformed into a commanding 1-2 lead for Mercedes.

“Now Lewis Hamilton is back in his faithful P1, Y/N Y/LN has exited the pit. Let’s see if she will challenge her teammate with those fresh tires—”

“What position am I?”

“P2, Lewis is ahead, Kimi is behind.”

“Copy. Tell Lewis I am backing Kimi; he can pull out the gap.”

In the post-race media pen, it was no surprise that Natalie Pinkham asked you about not attacking Hamilton in the final stages of the race.

“Y/N, congrats on your P2,” she began, “today’s race was very exciting, especially your performance in the rain. But I have a straightforward question—why didn’t you try to attack Hamilton in the last stint? Your tires were much fresher, and you could have won the race. From aiming for the win to defending for Hamilton, do you feel any disappointment?”

“Thank you for asking what every fan wants to know,” the surrounding journalists chuckled in unison. “Firstly, I’d like to say all decisions were in the best interest of the team.”

You paused for a moment and continued, “The track was still very slippery at that time, and I think under those conditions, only Ferrari fans would want to see me attacking Lewis.”

You emphasized, “I didn’t want to risk the team’s success for my personal victory. We were 20 points behind Ferrari before the race; now we’re leading by 23 points. That’s the best outcome.”

Before interviewing the next driver, Natalie turned off the microphone and gave you a hug. “Y/N, you did great. You are too good to be a second driver.”

Even Lewis came to talk to you after the race.

Mercedes rented an entire club to celebrate the 1-2 finish. You could enjoy free from the worry of tomorrow’s potential gossip about your dance partners. It was a relatively relaxed atmosphere until Lewis approached you.

You repeatedly assured him that his win was his own achievement — P14 to P1, mega job. Even if you hadn’t defended Kimi in the last few laps, he would have won because Seb had already retired. No matter how stupid Ferrari might be, they wouldn’t risk a double DNFs.

Lewis might not have been so careful in the past, but perhaps the constant arguments with Rosberg and the millions of euros in car damage over the past few years have taught him something.

A common misconception people had was, with the team’s favoritism, good cars, and a second driver assisting, even a dog could win WDC with such treatment. The flaw in this logic was, why would a team favor a backmarker?

A driver’s success was not solely based on team strategy or car performance. While these elements were crucial, the driver’s skill, determination, and ability to execute under pressure are what truly made the difference.

While theoretically any racer driving a Silver Arrows rocket had a chance at the title, but Mercedes didn’t pour over 400 million euros into the F1 team each year to nurture rookie drivers. Champion drivers didn't win because of good treatment; they earned the best treatment by first becoming champions. Lewis performed exceptionally well, so the team rallied around him.

Of course you understood it.

You had so much to improve, you had to wait patiently, knowing that opportunities might be scarce for a long time. You needed the most resilient determination, the keenest judgment and insight — neither slipping into inertia and fatigue due to the former, nor becoming anxious and impatient due to the latter. Like a leopard in hiding, you had to wait for the right moment to strike, with the sharpest claws and the fiercest gaze.

After the German Grand Prix, the chatter among fans about Mercedes’ unshakable dominance and the remarkably close bond between you and Lewis became the talk of the internet. The media eagerly fueled the flames, dubbing you both the paddock’s “power couple”while some fans affectionately joked that you were Lewis’s housewife on the track, who helped him clean up opponents on the track. It was certainly preferable to the spiteful remarks from haters who accused you of being nothing more than Lewis’s doormat.

As you shared the amusing sarcastic comments from fans at Lewis’s home in Monaco, your “son” Roscoe circled your feet, while your “husband” was casually dressed with his hair down, making fresh juice, trying to persuade you to move to Monte-Carlo.

“My husband definitely wouldn't be your type.”

Lewis paused his work, ready to hear your grand declaration. “I need a trophy husband — beautiful, hot, who loves me wholeheartedly but isn’t too needy. The season is long, and I'm very busy. But when I need him, he has to show up at the paddock immediately, so he can’t have a job or be in school.”

A hearty laugh escaped Lewis’s lips, “When I retire, I might meet those standards.”

“No way, I’m not letting you retire. I’m a knight defending your WDC titles.”

He was nearly crying with laughter, “So, I’m Princess Lewis now?”

You thought Roscoe barked in agreement.

Obviously even the most seemingly perfect couples have their arguments.

As the red lights went out, Lewis Hamilton, fueled by his desire to win and yesterday’s pole position, launched into the lead, dominating the track.

Starting from 4th, you made a smooth start and stealthily slid into third, effectively sandwiching Max Verstappen between the two Mercedes.

The Australian Grand Prix was nothing short of spectacular. In the final three laps, Max relying on Red Bull’s brilliant strategy decisions, continued to close the gap to Lewis. No one could tell if he would overtake at the last moment.

“Hamilton is still leading, but the tire wear is too fast. If nothing changed, he might be caught in the last lap and a half.”

Mercedes’ strategy team was in overdrive, their headsets buzzing with a cacophony of contrasting tones.

On one side, Lewis was calmly asking, “How many seconds is Max behind me?” On the other, you were rambled concerns, “These tyres are dead at the rear, and please give me Max’s speed—”

Alternating between the two drivers, it was enough to make the engineers’ brains, which had been operating at high speed for over an hour, overheat and crash.

Bono was heavily reporting to Lewis about the worsen tire conditions, preparing him mentally to be overtaken, while on your end, you received information about the lap times of Charles Leclerc, who was closely chasing behind. You were also comforted with an assurance that you should hold on and most likely secure third place.

You didn’t understand: “Hey girl, I didn’t ask about Leclerc.”

Then, he must be fourth. With three laps to go, was the team giving up on the champion? You felt this wasn’t right.

“Please tell me Max and Lewis’ lap times,” you calmly inquired again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, you won’t overtake Verstappen, the tires—”

“Lap time.” you forcefully interrupted. Because with the tires heavily worn, it was unlikely for you to overtake Verstappen and take second place, but causing trouble for him and allowing Lewis to get to first place was a different story.

Let’s hope you wouldn’t fly off the track.

But the racetrack wasn’t exactly God’s territory, as most drivers’ prayers rarely got answered. So, the worst-case scenario happened.

In the second-to-last lap, you were side by side with Verstappen in Turn 4, and two seconds later of wheel-to-wheel competition, your left rear tire finally couldn’t hold on, causing the car to lose balance and fly off the track at over 300km/h, dragging the Red Bull alongside it.

Charles Leclerc, miraculously jumping from fourth to second, was startled, sliding on the track and looking in disbelief at the disappearing Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, reporting in shock over the radio, “They’re both out! Are they okay?”

“Plan B, Plan B!” The engineer screamed frantically, signaling Leclerc to focus and cross the finish line. Suddenly aware of his miraculous rise to second place, Monegasque sweetheart quickly stepped on the pedal, preventing Magnussen from overtaking him from behind.

In the grandstands, team pits, and commentator boxes, screams of excitement erupted uncontrollably. But amidst the sand and stones where Max and your cars had sunk, you felt like even the air was quiet, as if the thundering engine sounds couldn’t penetrate the helmets and cockpits.

Your only thought was that you had indeed fulfilled the promise you made in the interview, to push Lewis’s competitor out.

Lewis celebrated for five minutes before realizing what had happened behind him. Then, the joy of victory disappeared completely.

He remained silent, his expression turning cold, after confirming that the podium ceremony wouldn’t start for some time, he returned to the garage.

You slouched on the couch, a soft pillow under your head, but you still couldn’t control the dizziness, nausea, and urge to vomit. Fortunately, you could still count fingers and remember everything, so it was probably just a mild concussion.

You felt a little sad. Maybe this was where you differed from male drivers. You couldn’t train the most aesthetically pleasing thick necks admired in the paddock, so your ability to resist g forces was weaker that you got a concussion with just a slight bump.

You raised your head and saw Lewis’ stormy expression. His anger was evident, with a cold face and tightly pursed lips.

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t need you to do this, I can—”

“Please give us a few minutes alone, please,”you looked at the staff in the room, and they tactfully left, leaving the room quiet again.

He continued to shout at you loudly, “I can win on my own, and if I can’t win, it’s my own damn fault. I don’t want to use these methods, and I don’t t care about how your f*cking second driver contract—”

You looked quietly at his excited face, patiently listening to his volcanic eruption. When he finally stopped, you extended a hand to signal that you also wanted to say something.

He crouched in front of you, you wanted to touch his shoulder, but your hand trembled and ended up on his neck. Well, damn. You were too weak to resist.

So you gently touched Lewis’ neck and jaw, softly saying like petting Roscoe, “I swear to you, Lewis, this was really an accident. I didn’t mean to crash, just wanted to buy some time... but the tire still blew. You know, these things happen all the time, it’s just this time... it’s a bit dramatic.”

You could see Lewis was uncomfortable with your hand. After a few seconds, he also apologized in your gentle touch, “Hey, you make me feel guilty. I probably couldn’t win anyway, which is annoying —but I can win next time. I don’t want you to get a concussion just because I want to win.”

“So are we good?” you tried to force a smile,

“Only you promise me you won’t do anything dangerous next time.”

You nodded, locking eyes with him.

“Pinky promise?”

You raised your trembling hand, a physiological reaction from your brain losing control. But soon Lewis’ hand came over, giving your hand something to lean on, so it stopped shaking.

Contracts written in black and white often protect the cost of betrayal, while Ineffective childish promises always encourage true feelings and trust. You stared quietly at each other for a moment, then Lewis held your hand and gently kissed it.

His voice was a little hoarse, “Just trust me a little more, okay?”

to be continued

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine

[elliewithcellie]

Right in front of you

summary: reader complains about their bad luck finding a guy when the guy for them is literally right there (Steve Harrington x Reader)

wc: 796

cw: mention of bad boyfriend in the past, friends to lovers speedrun, reader is a little dummy but we love them. Gender neutral, but might be implied more fem. One bad word. Steve POV more or less

a/n: Just a little blurb i found in my files, nothin to it, but the ending made me smile so i figured i'd post it

“When will it be my turn, ya know?” you rambled on to your friend, Steve. “Like, you know I’m thrilled for my friends. The girls have gone through so much, and to see them grow and learn that they deserve the best and take on love again is more than anything I could ever ask for. I’m so happy for them.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, fiddling with a stray string on your sweater.

Steve sat in the silence, waiting for you to fill it again. But he knew you. He knew you weren’t sharing the whole truth. He watched your eyebrows furrow like you were fighting with the words in your mind.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Steve said.

You sighed. “It’s silly.”

“That’s ok.” Steve brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I was with them through all of it. We all started in the same place. We all came from these shitty relationships, and we all worked together to heal. I worked so hard, Steve. I want you to believe me—”

“I do.”

“—When I tell you how hard I worked with these girls, I mean it. They became my everything. We became a family when I felt like I had no one.”

Steve couldn’t help but wince. It was hard hearing you talk about your past. His senses always overloaded with anger. For his dear friend he cared for more than anyone to be treated the way you were made his temperature rise. His heart pounded in his chest, but he let you continue.

“But I guess I’m just confused. You know? It’s like they’ve moved on without me, carrying on with their lives. But they were my life. Gosh, I wish you could meet them. You’d fit in so well with the whole gang, I swear.”

Again, Steve’s heart jumped. God, did he want that. For you to introduce him to your friends. Steve’s mind began to wander, thinking about the two of you traveling up to Utah together, meeting the girls that made you who you are today. He’d want to thank them individually for taking care of you. For allowing you to be comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him and allow him to love you. ‘Love you’? Oh, god. He didn’t realize.

“I’d love that,” he choked out.

“But what about me, Steve? What about me? I’m stuck in these patterns I want to get out of. I want to be independent and free. Just like them. But can I be super honest?” You looked up at Steve for the first time in this conversation.

“Of course.”

“I—I think I’m lonely. I’m really grateful that we’ve become friends because I don’t know what I would have done without you. But what do I have to do to have that special someone? I’ve put in the same work. But people aren’t looking at me like that, I guess.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Of course, it is. How else do you explain that the only relationship I’ve been in was a narcissist taking advantage of me?”

Steve was taken aback by that. He watched your eyebrows crinkle together at the bridge of your nose, a last defense to fight the tears.

“Where’s my lineup of men then? Explain to me why I’m skirted at the bar so they can talk to Brenda, or I’m approached only so they can ask for her number.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes, you know that?”

“Huh?”

“You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t even notice what’s right in front of you!”

“Oh, please. Name one guy who’s even flirted with me.”

“ME, you dumbass.”

“I, er, you, what?”

Steve didn’t waste another moment. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. It was brash, almost harsh in quality, with fervor as Steve pressed his lips against yours. He felt you settle against him, your hands reaching out to the back of his neck and hair.

Steve pulled away and looked you in your eyes. “Everything you want,” he began, “I want to be the one to give it to you. The intimacy you crave, the best friend wrapped in a man, that’s literally me. If you’ll have me, we can heal our scars together and work toward the goal of independence, one step at a time.”

“You really want that?”

“More than anything.”

This time, you pulled him into a kiss. This time, it was softer, kinder, but the passion remained.

You giggled. “And to think. I was crushing over you this whole time!”

Steve laughed. “God, you are a piece of work, you know that?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader

[epickiya722]

You are so right. For the first time ever, I block quite a lot of my moots in twitter and tumblr. I can't believe all the things they said about BNHA (especially Izuku). Personally, I love all the events until now. Do I have complain here and there for a certain characters? Yes, of course I do, but that does not made me hate BNHA. Izuku is a great character and one of my favorite protagonist from all media....Also, as BKDK shipper, I love all the canon moments between Izuku and Katsuki (sorry if maybe you're a fan of Izuku but dislike bakudeku ship).

You know I don't hate IzuOcha ship (I think it's kinda cute) but I do dislike most of their fan right now. One of my ex moots said, "Damn with this events in BNHA. F*ck, at least Midoriya will end up with Uraraka. If somehow Midoriya don't end up with her and only thinking of Bakugou, damn I don't follow this series for the gay sh*ts...."

Like, I'm mad and sad when reading that... For me, I wish Izuku don't end up with anyone at the end of the series (as much as I love BKDK ship, I know it's impossible to be canon). Don't you think it will be funny if there is plot twist and somehow Ochaco end up with Shoto?

That very last bit right there. "... I wish Izuku don't end up with anyone at the end of the series", that?

I've felt that exact feeling since I got into BNHA.

You and I mostly do have the exact same feelings.

Starting with the ships, neither I have a problem with. I have ships just as much as the next problem, but the past year or so has taught me that when it comes to ships, some people don't actually see the characters as individuals and only seem to care about that characters for the sake of their ship.

Which sucks because I feel that takes away a lot of understanding the story. When you don't understand the character's story from their personality to their backstory to their growth, most likely you're not going to understand the overall story.

I hate seeing things like "Well, at least Uraraka will end up with Midoriya" because that just tells me that the person is maybe here for the shipping and that's it and don't care about either character.

Like, why are people so eager to see Uraraka become a wife and have kids? She is a, what, 16 year old girl who wants to be a hero! I want to see her be a hero!

And look, I know BakuDeku got some amazing moments together and some really would make someone go "I ship it". I don't hate it, some of you who followed me long enough know I don't. But at the same time, let's acknowledge they are separate characters. Yes, they're almost like a package deal because they've been in each other's lives since forever. They're going to be intertwined like that.

But come on! How about individually?? Midoriya became my favorite easily and not because of Bakugou.

Like, again, I'm for shipping. I got my ships. But it's not the ships that annoy me (unless otherwise like... *shivers*), it be the shippers.

And yeah, sometimes for any story I read I may have a complaint or two, but I will never understand people who built their whole blogs around "critiquing" and nothing else. Like, damn, how fucking perfect you want the story to be?

In fact, write a story that doesn't get anyone coming at you with something they don't like about it. Impossible. Because someone is going to have something they don't like about it.

Those people will have "takes" and then I just know they have read the story at all. They would miss details or misinterpret the characters how they want them to be looked at and still have no idea what they're talking about.

This fandom, some of the people can be fuckong switch ups, I swear.

So first, Midoriya is too emotional and a crybaby and it's obvious that his flaw was just emotional driven he can be. But now it's a fucking problem he's expressing his emotions at an appropriate time? It's a damn issue he isn't crying for a gag?

Y'all got to be fucking kidding me. This is the same fandom who at a time didn't give a damn about the villains. Who were like "they don't deserve redemption, they should die" even after learning their backstories. And now y'all want to advocate for them? Actually mad even though the story is not even completely done yet?!

I wouldn't say I'm an expert on BNHA or any story I read up. At the end of the day, I am just a fan who happens to be very entertained. I'm here to have fun. But the way this fandom, that fandom and every other fandom be acting makes me feel like I'm reading some whole other manga, watching some different copy of an anime.

[Note: okay, I did giggle at the thought of Horikoshi doing that with Uraraka and Todoroki. I doubt it would happen and I'm not saying it should... it's just funny to me because just yesterday I was thinking something similar with two different characters.]

#kiya answers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku

[lotus-lamps]

man i love how people are like "guys you're all mischaracterizing this person. stop the slander/where is the slander, you guys are always ignoring something something + this other character did something something" and then proceed to mischaracterize that other character in that same post with them getting really annoyed about mischaracterization like. sorry what

#cozm textpost #writing #i was originally gonna ramble a shit ton in the tags #mostly about bsd cause i wrote this with bsd in mind lmao #even if it was meant to be fandomless #but then i felt like i was becoming the people i was complaining about so i just stopped lol #i have it saved on some random google doc its fine #if you are interested please ask lmao #also sorry for not posting art in a while i dont have the motivation to draw #plus a friend commissioned me #anddddd i dont have the time or energy because i only know how to procrastinate 😭 #oh well. also proseka took over my life momentarily #okay bye bye i will come back with more maybe. in the future who knows

[fiapple]

other early buffy bi-coding includes: both her heart & spirit being initially coded as gay/bisexual (the writers weren’t sure which till tara came into the picture, & according to a semi-recent article, of which label pretty much until willow came out) & were intended as such, as the writers always knew one of them was going to come out.

#buffy summers #btvs #this is why i don’t consider the use of willow (a lesbian) to convey elements of buffy’s (a bisexual) sexuality biphobic whereas i sort of #do when that lens is applied to faith. in willow’s case her lesbianism is important like i cannot understate that but the writing choice #itself was influenced by the notion on part of the creators that willow being written as bisexual was the original intent & they changed #their minds because the lesbian representation was important & they felt with the way people thought of bisexuals it would make willowtara #get taken less seriously. so until willow came out she was very much a bi-coded character (STILL A LESBIAN & STILL MEANS HER & OZ WAS COMP #AS SOON AS THAT WAS CONFIRMED) #up until she came out- and it was largely if not entirely that before that point (bar the coming out scene) where she is used in any major #way to convey that aspect of sexuality with buffy- it becomes more general in terms of paralleling relationship struggle after that point #so willow being bi-coded & willow being used as a buffy sexuality figure were near entirely overlapping which negates the view of #bisexuality genuinely being part straight part gay rather than having to exist in dual spaces due to the way sexuality is dichotomized #also shout out to willow’s lesbianism for still retroactively working very well as a narrative way to convey that dual space even before the #choice to definitively make her such was made. her complicated lesbianism does so much for the themes girlie is carrying. #like a lot of people complain about that choice because of the fact we later got confirmation that it was made for reasons which were i #inconsiderate to both bisexuals & lesbians but ultimately willow as a lesbian works better overall than willow as a bisexual on a #storytelling level to me based on how sexuality in particular is ultimately positioned in the story by the end of s7 #like when i talk about pre-coming out willow being bi-coded it isn’t to detract from her present lesbianism or say she should be bi- that’s #flat out lesbophobic & i don’t fuck with it- it’s just acknowledging a reality that influenced how she was written prior to coming out 100% #where as with faith that’s not present especially because she is fully meant to represent buffy (a bisexual’s) sexuality rather than any #sort of dual space struggle- she (darkly) mirrors buffy’s rather than playing a role in it #which then (to me) does start to play into the half straight half gay idea when considering again that she represents buffy’s sexuality #specifically the repressed aspect is positioning a bisexual’s repressed sapphic attraction as lesbian rather than… repressed bisexual #*ie positioning #attraction. like especially considering eliza said she thinks faith swing both ways it kinda does make me uncomfy & feels really reductivist #which is part of why i plan to make that post #blah blah people are entitled to their headcanons. in context the headcanon kinda has a biphobia issue when ignoring faiths bi-coding & word #of saint paul confirmation on top of her narrative positioning irt sexuality that’s all i’m saying

[lokh]

being aware of your own shortcomings but not knowing how to fix it. sooooo frustrating lol <3

#AUGHHHHHH I CANT WRITE I GIVE UP IM DONE! #im like. anybody with an ounce more of. idk being in tune with their feelings??????????? would have expanded on eg an observation #but i dont. or i cant. and i dont care to figure out which one cos either way i dont want to! #but thats not good for writing!!!!!!!!! #i realise that maybe for dialogue its ok. because yknow how therapy speak is becoming a problem with dialogue and a piece of advice ive see #going around is 'no one says what they mean' #well. so thats easy at least LMAO. at least up until people have feelings jams. which is where i fall flat on my face #but in either case the problem becomes the experiencing. when ur writing pov and ur saying how they Felt #and i just. shrug!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAN #you kno?????? is this making sense? #i just love avoiding things too much! #im complaining about writing but im 100% sure this is a problem in. every other avenue of life for me lol <3

[fer3112]

It's very interesting that the vampires have had external people they can screw over all season long and they've been somewhat happy and stable within their own family dynamic but now that monotony has settled in and they are bored, they have started screwing up over each other; Nadja and Lazslo are fighting over money for Colin's show (something Laszlo didn't really care about), Colin is having his teen angst era and it's telling Lazslo he hates him and Nandor is stealing Guillermo's boyfriend in the most fucked up way possible. They have no one to take their immortal boredom on so they're hurting each other. It's a very interesting way of showing codependent dynamics, how they inevitably hurt you and how they are worsened by immortality.

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #this felt like an episode of iasip and i love that brand of fuck up #i also think that's why the fandom has been so hypocritical with their reaction to this episode because so far they have only been #hurting strangers and have been at least cordial to each other #so the fandom has been like 'yeees slay nandor kill all of the wives you got back to life yes king' #but as soon as he starts turning on guillermo and marwa people become the moral police and call the show problematic #completely ignoring that marwa is a plot device to show that nandor is actually terrible and not the uwu himbo people think he is #i feel like the people complaining about how moral the whole marwa thing was have not being paying attention #and that they have been betrayed by their own tumblrification of her character and they're ao3 expectation #because if you weren't paying attention you would think that there was a happy ending for her when the narrative hasn't promised such thing #and if you are mad at this you would never survive an episode of iasip

[florenceisfalling]

like idk. i miss seeing content from s.igne (though i respect gab wholeheartedly). i miss fanart from my favorite artists. i miss older eras of j.se at times (and yes, there were older eras, the way people pretended he Never Changed is just weird). i miss old anti designs. i miss the old fic trends. i miss having a very active fandom (though i am so happy to see the new arrivals) and i miss seeing him interact with fans the way he did on tumblr back in the day. i miss the way i used to interact with some of the blogs here before i decided to fuckin,,, wage holy war and make enemies out of them (joking, but i have seen sides to some of these people that i wish i could tear out of my memory). i miss feeling confident that i could trust the good intentions of people here and even the big man himself (not god. that makes sean sound like god. you know what i mean). i miss when some of you weren't so fucking bitter which is funny because i'm the bitterest bitch alive. idk. i don't think it's bad to miss any of these things because i'm not going to be an ass and act like it's anybody's fault. i'm not going to be bothered by gab for being happy because i'm glad she is happy, and i'm not going to get bothered by sean taking a reasonable step back from this hellsite when people were cruel to him, and i'm not going to get mad at trends for changing because that is how time works. but i do miss things and i know its cringe and parasocial and perhaps even problematic but i hate having to pretend like i never have Any feelings about the past lest i break a hypothetical rule of what is the Normal level of attachment to an online community. okay. i think i'm done now.

#one of my favorite writers left because they couldn't deal anymore and one of my favorite writers turned out to have shit views and one of #my favorite writers left because of something that was partly my fault and one of my favorite writers stopped writing because of two of the #others and one of my favorite writers hurt someone i love over and over and over and one of my favorite writers left because they were the #someone i love. two of the big names hate queer folk that don't align with their ideals and half the artists left for twitter or for dead. #the man himself left because criticism always becomes cruelty and people lie to make themselves feel good. #the editors all turned their accounts private and my favorite told me on livestream that i was good and starting somewhere but then forgot #my name. and i thought maybe i was the bitter one but then i look at some of the other people who have been here so long and wonder why #they even bother anymore because they care more about complaining with everything j.ack does than anyone who actually enjoys his stuff. #and you know i poked fun at *** for a lot of things. some deserved some not. and one of them was the fact that she compared fandom #to warfare. and yes that's still silly i don't think it's a fair comparison but i do know that she wasn't fully wrong. #when you've been here for a long time and ive Been here for a long time you start to get really used to names and faces #and the change can be like waking up to a new wallpaper in your room. not a bad one just a new one. #i don't want to pretend that this fandom is just a silly little hobby for me when lets be honest i know some of yalls personal lives a #little too dearly for that. ive loved people here ive lost people here the first person who showed me this place fucking DIED and i still #lose it sometimes over the fact that he would have loved jameson so much and we couldve been closer friends had he stayed alive a few more #years. so yeah. sorry for being fucking cringy or whatever but there have been times where i've felt like im on a sinking ship watching #everybody else row away and i refuse to go. so like. cool. cool. im glad things are good again but i never really got to process the bad #things.

[nexus-nebulae]

thinking about how not only my brain problems but also the way i was taught history in school has just completely fucked up my sense of time

#watching a video and was shown a picture of a person in colour #and then was told that it was like 40 years ago that that was taken #and it felt like i just got kicked in the spine like. what? colour photos? that long ago? #and then i realize that 40 years ago was only the 80's #and then like. how some things in history classes were framed to be older or more recent just to fit a narrative #like how most pictures you see of MLK are in black and white to put the thought in your head that this was Forever Ago #there are photos of that man in colour. they just never show them. #because this is Ancient History of course #but then things that were split by centuries are framed as all being homogenized Oh Here's Those Three Ancient Guys #bc they Only teach egypt greece and rome bc obviously nobody else fucking existed around then #what do you mean humans have been in north america for millenia whites were the First Ones To Find It #and it was So So Recent ago that sometimes ppl still call this place The New World (it's not. fucking. new.) #but also slavery was So So So long ago look all of that was in the past and it's history and we don't need to worry about it bc It's Over #(no it's fucking not. prison labor and outsourcing labor to countries with a lack of labor laws is still fully slavery :) #i love how sometimes the shit the right complains about is also the shit they fucking caused #like 'everything's made in china nothing is American™️ anymore >:(' #but then immediately 'why should we pay people to work >:( i'm gonna make other countries work for me bc they're cheaper >:(' #i hate this shit i wanna just become moss

[corruptedsilence]

its wild to think that resident evil 8 isn’t even 2 years old it feels like it came out like years ago

#Out for a Bite // OOC #Screams from the Abyss // MT #;; also i dont know where resident evil might go but #;; ethan really is just a good main character tbh #;; i never felt like he was like that 'im perfect because im the main character' #;; but i always got the 'im doing my best because i have to' #;; because like take into account ethan does go through a fuck ton of suffering #;; he is shown to not be unable to be harmed #;; idk it just feels like his reasons for going forward #;; and his persistant nature is all realistic even in an unrealistic like setting #;; its so interesting hfjkewhfewjk #;; i just really want a breakdown of just how rgeat ethan *feels* as a main character #;; its imo the best way to do 'the normal guy' trope #;; because so often *COUGHS AT RWBY* it can be obnoxious how unrealistically powerful they become #;; but i never really got that #;; and they actually give him such a good story and just a likable personality #;; i dont think i've personally seen people complain about ethan's character #;; and i know we were robbed from seeing his beautiful face but like #;; lowkey i kinda like that #;; cuz ethan does feel like he could be any father/lover/person who holds a passion and love of life #;; sorry i really like the winter's story hfejkhwk

[dolceaspidenera]

Thinking about this line from Cazador and what implies:

I keep thinking about how strange and new must have been for Astarion to finally be surrounded by people who actually listen to him and no one there to punish him for speaking up. 

How it must have felt for him to be able to freely joke around and find that Tav actually laughs at his jokes and even joins in the fun. How new it must have been to be able to express himself and have people who actually listen to him and don't treat him like he is a nuisance, but truly listen to what he has to say. 

I imagine a Tav who just listens, even when he is complaining and whining on purpose, they listen and maybe smile a bit between themselves because they've seen through him, and they never tell him to shut up, they let him vent, they listen to his stories about Cazador, they laugh with him at his jokes. 

No wonder he falls so hard for Tav or becomes very fond of them in a friendship route.

After 200 years where even the Gods didn't care to listen, he has found someone who sits down with him and hears him out.

#today I woke up and decided to bring you pain #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion #astarion ancunin #character analysis #bg3 meta

[nanaslutt]

The wrong place at the wrong time

snopsis: you walk in on a particularly interesting facetime between gojo and geto in which gojo tries to convince geto that the prostate is magical thing, but he needs your help in convincing him

contains: fem reader, sub!gojo, geto is on the phone while you and gojo fool around, dirty talk, prostate milking, anal fingering, hand job, masturbation, bisexual satosugu

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

..."You what?" You stopped in your tracks in the hallway in front of Gojo's bedroom, staring incredulously at the white-haired man lying on his back, one knee propped up, his arm outstretched above him, Geto's face filling up the phone screen. "Oh? Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?" Gojo asked, covering his mouth as he snickered behind his hand.

"Your door is wide open and you practically just screamed at the top of your lungs that you've fingered yourself before, was I not supposed to hear that?" You asked, your face scrunching at your own words as if you couldn't even believe what you were saying.

"I don't care if you hear~" Gojo cooed, his hand dropping back down to his chest. "Is it really that surprising?" Geto's voice chimed in through the speaker on Gojo's phone. "What's that mean?" Gojo chipped, turning his neck to pout at the dark-haired man, his soft hair falling graciously against the sheets around his head.

"I think he means you're shameless, Satoru." You said, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against his doorframe. Gojo smirked, unable to deny your words. "You always have been one to talk brazenly about your endeavors in bed... like you were just doing." Geto agreed, his deep voice coming out smooth and sultry through the phone.

"Well, you asked if I had any ways to spice up your alone time... since you're too scared to go find a hookup~" Gojo outted the man, resulting in a tsk from the speaker. You shouldn't be standing in the doorway still, but this conversation was too intriguing to walk away from.

"I didn't mean fingering my ass, save that for the people who really love it. Like you, apparently." Geto deadpanned. Gojo sat up in his bed, his hand placed behind him as he held his phone out in front of him, pouting at his best friend. "It really does feel good, I'm telling you It'll change your life~" Gojo cooed, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man.

"I bet my roomie can attest too, I hear you whimper through these thin walls late at night when you think I'm asleep," Gojo revealed, turning his head to look at you. Your jaw dropped, words failing to find your tongue as you stared at him dumbfounded. Yeah, you absolutely should've minded your business.

"W-what the fuck?" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up at Gojo's unexpected words. You heard Geto laugh through the phone, followed by a quiet "Does she really~?"

"Since when was this conversation about me now?" You said, your face scrunching in displeasure as embarrassment flooded your body. How was all of the attention suddenly on you? "It's okay, everyone gets horny, so no need to feel all shy about it~ You sound really cute anyways, you have nothing to worry about."

A loud groan fell from your lips, your hands uncrossing to cover your face, your displeased noises becoming muffled from how hard you pressed your hands to your face. Geto's laughter became hysterical at your dismay. You felt a headache start to come on.

"Heh~ further proves my point though, fingering yourself feels good Suguru~ I don't want you to come crying to me when you're 80, complaining about how you wish you would've tried it when you were in your prime," Gojo said, raising his chin smugly.

"With your eating habits, you'll be lucky if you break 60." Geto quipped, "Anyways, I wouldn't even know where to start." He confessed, Geto's voice coming through softer, honest. A sinister smile formed on Gojo's face as Geto's words reached his ears, an idea popping into his head. His eyes falling on you made your body tense where you stood, wondering why he was looking at you again. You thought you had successfully escaped being the center of attention.

"Wanna help me show Geto how good your prostate can feel?"

The words fell from your roommate's lips as nonchalantly as he had just asked what you wanted for dinner. You kept your hands over your face, your fingers cracked over your eyes so you could see him. You felt a blossom spread in your tummy at his proposition, what did that even mean? How would you have any involvement in this? You didn't even have a prostate.

You felt your heart rate pick up, the organ beating faster in your chest as you stood underneath his awaiting gaze, trying to wrack your brain for the right words to say. Your eyes darted around the room as you tried to escape his eyes long enough to think of a reasonable reply.

You and Gojo have lived together for 2 years now. The two of you practically joined at the hip, courtesy of Gojo who had no concept of personal space and hated being alone. Gojo liked to refer to your personal space as 'our personal space' you had grown used to it.

The childish man could be obnoxious and crass sometimes, but he also had a strange sort of charm to him. He was very observant of your needs, and somehow always knew what you were thinking. Not to mention he was undoubtedly easy on the eyes, no matter how annoying he was--and you would be lying if you said a few of those nights you spent alone in your room with just your fingers to keep you company that Gojo had referred to; hadn't featured said man in your fantasies as you fucked yourself.

After going over these facts and losing yourself in your own mind as you did so, you decided on what you were going to say back to Gojo. Snapping back to reality by dropping your hands to your sides and making unsure eye contact with Gojo, you spoke. "H-how would I help?" You didn't realize that those very words had sealed your fate.

—

"D-deeper cmon~ touchin' me like you're scared I'm gonna break or something." Satoru teased, wiggling his ass back into you. You felt your face heat up at his words. Well sorry... I've never exactly fingered someone's ass before, excuse me if I'm a little tentative... you shot back in your head, opting to just bite your lip and take his jab in the world outside of your head.

Gejo had placed his phone on his five-foot tripod on the side of the bed, giving Geto a perfect view of Gojo who was laid face down ass up, with you sitting on your knees behind him, a bottle of lube by your thigh, the cap was still undone in case you needed more. Your finger was about halfway into Gojo's ass, slowly and shallowly pumping into him. He was right, you were afraid he was going to break, afraid that if you moved too suddenly, you would hurt him.

The camera was angled near the end of the bed so Geto could also see Gojo's hungry little hole swallow up your fingers, making him palm his large hand over his cock at the sight of it pulsing around you. "You listening Suguru?" Gojo breathed, his head lying against the sheets, and turned to the side so he could see Geto staring at him, and a little sliver of your blurry, shy face.

"Oh, I'm listening," Geto responded, squeezing his hand over his tip as he spoke. He didnt want Gojo to know how much this was affecting him; watching his best friend get fingered by his cute roomie; so he kept his camera on his face for now, keeping the minstrations on himself to himself.

"G-good... you better take it all in for when you try this later~" Gojo cooed, confident that Geto would actually try this. Geto nodded, jerking his hand over his clothed cock harder as he pretended to listen to his words. A choked moan from you brought the attention you detested so much to be centered on you once more. "You okay there?" Geto's voice chirped teasingly through the phone, his eyes taking in your flustered face.

"It's... It's in." You whispered, your words barely being loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Your finger?" Geto asked you, keeping his voice and face monotone as he slid his hand underneath the band of his sweats, his growing arousal needing more than over-the-clothes touching to be satiated.

You nodded, a deep blush spreading across your face as you relished the feeling. Gojo was so tight around you, even tighter than your cunt felt when you touched yourself. "Yeah, I can feel it too, so stop teasing me and move it already~" Gojo groaned, pushing his hips back against your finger, slick from the abundance of lube you used.

You swallowed hard watching Gojo fuck his hips back against you, the motion only resulting in your finger jolting around slightly, not enough to give him any real stimulation. "O-okay." You mumbled quietly, before you pulled your finger out, and screwed it back in. Gojo breathed out through his mouth, relieved you were finally moving.

"How's it feel?" Geto chimed in, his hand now tentatively stroking over his cock, his sweats and boxers alike pulled halfway down his thighs. Gojo grumbled, pouting dramatically against the sheets before he spoke, trying to angle his head to look at you the best he could from his current position. "Feels like I have a finger in my ass," Gojo replied with a short giggle.

Geto hummed in response, tilting his head at his companion through the phone. "Though you were gonna show me how good your prostate feels?" Geto teased, slowing his strokes over his cock as he waited for the real action to happen, not wanting to blow his load too soon. "I would if my cute roomie started listening to me~" Gojo cooed, disguising his jab at you in his teasing words.

You knew he was immediately referring to how gently you were being. Curse you for being curdious of his most sacred place in all of his body. "Fine, you want it harder? Don't come crying to me if you get hurt." You said with a sigh, shaking your head. You placed your free hand on his ass, giving yourself some leverage before you started fingering him properly.

"Yeahhh~ Cmon, give it to me~" Gojo cooed, that annoyingly cocky tone laced throughout his voice. His unaffectedness to having your finger in his asshole made you want to wipe that smirk off his face and replace it with a more desperate look. You tried to be nice, but clearly, that wasn't what he wanted.

Geto watched you carefully as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, readjusting yourself on your knees closer to Gojo before you pulled your finger out of his hole and grabbed the lube, spreading it across two fingers this time. "Hey, I said give it to me not pull out complete- ahh!" Gojo's complaint was short-lived when you thrust both of your fingers in his ass to the hilt all at once.

Gojo gasped against the sheets like the wind had just been punched from his lungs, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall in shock. "You're so impatient Satoru." You shot back, starting up a decent pace on his ass, your fingers colliding against him causing the fat of his ass to ripple under your hand as you held him steady. Geto laughed at how fast Gojo's expression changed from cocky to desperate, the sight making his cock twitch in his hand.

"A-ah- ah-" Gojo softly whimpered, his hands curling around the pillow under his head for comfort as you fingered him. Your pace now felt words better than your sloppy, slow one just seconds prior, but something was still missing. He needed you deeper, lower. Your fingers just barely ghosting over his prostate was not nearly enough, he needed you to jab directly into it, to abuse it with no remorse.

"Deeper baby, a little deeper," Gojo instructed, the teasing in his voice long gone, now replaced with a carnal need. "Angle your fingers down, curl them down like you're trying to touch my stomach." You quickly took his words into action, wanting to see him crumple under your hand. "You know all the tricks, huh?" Geto chimed in, wishing so badly he was there right now.

What would be his role? Would he be the one fucking his fingers into Gojo's ass while you sucked him off? Maybe he would have you lean forward so he could eat your pretty pussy out while you fingered Gojo, both options sounded delicious. His hand sped up as he lost himself in his fantasies, his free hand curling into the sheets as his eyes stayed glued on the two of you.

You angled your fingers down, towards his tummy like he had instructed, and jabbed your fingers in, curling them when your fingers fucked into his ass to the hilt. The guttural moan Gojo released sent shivers down your spine. "Oh fuck- right there, do that again-" He begged, his arms tightening around his pillow as he shamelessly wiggled his hips back against you, trying to get your fingers to hit that spot inside him again.

Your face scrunched in pleasure as you repeated the motion, feeling a walnut-shaped ball under your fingers each time you curled them inside him. "Ohmyfuckinggod-" Gojo grits through his teeth, his teeth clicking together each time his jaw opens and closes in pleasure. "That looks like it feels good, Satoru," Gojo smirked, the only tell of his arousal being how a light blush spread across his face. Pretty impressive considering how much he was leaking on his fingers from how hot he felt watching the show the two of you were putting on.

Gojo tried to open his mouth to respond but you had gotten more confident with his unabashed moaning, your fingers pistoning in and out of his tight ass, drilling straight into his prostate. "Ah- ah- ah-" The white-haired man moaned so prettily, all the sounds coming from his body being music to your ears. "Does that feel good, Satoru?" You ask, your words coming out more timid than you would've liked.

Your roommate nodded profusely, an adorable red blush spread across his cheeks as his eyes rolled back in his head from how good he was feeling. "So f-fucking good- Ngh- feels so- intense! Nghhhh-" Gojo whined, his words coming out choppy and slurred from the whines being fucked from his body.

“Oh fuck baby- fuck- fuck my ass baby ohmygod- harderrrr-“ Gojo slurred, whimpering into the sheets like some slut. You pressed your thighs together, your clit throbbing at his desperate show of his need for pleasure.

Geto pressed his lips together as subtly as possible, trying to appear unaffected as he rapidly jerked his hand over his cock, matching your pace inside Gojo's tight hole. His camera was shaking slightly with his movements, but he was feeling too good to care. The both of you were quite preoccupied anyway, it's not like you would notice his camera shaking anyway.

"Grab his cock pretty girl," Geto instructed, his eyes falling lower with his arousal, a warm heat flooding over his body. You looked over to the camera, making eye contact with Geto, who kept his unwavering eyes on yours, his eyes slightly glossed over with his arousal.

"Yeah- y-yeah, m-my cock, touch my cock-" Gojo jumped in, a drunken smile plastered on his face as he tried to look at you over his shoulder, his pink face nodding profusely. You looked away from Geto to look down between the white-haired man's legs, your eyes finding their target--being his long, thick cock that dangled heavily between his legs, a steady drip of pre-cum dripping from the tip of his cock each time your fingers hit his prostate.

"Been watching his poor cock leak since you started this, the tip is so red," Geto added, his voice failing to sound as unaffected as he would've liked. If Gojo was in the right headspace, he would've teased Geto at the fact that he just admits to staring at his cock throughout this whole endeavor, but alas, he was too busy drooling and whimpering against his sheets to tease anyone right now.

Blushing, you abandoned your hand that was placed on Gojo's soft ass to drop it between his legs. The second your lithe fingers wrapped around his neglected cock, his whole body jerked harshly, almost like it was trying to escape your hand. "Fuck-" Gojo grit, wincing at how sensitive his cock was from being neglected for so long.

"Oh shit, bet it's sooo much right now, huh?" Geto asked his best friend. Gojo's eyes found Geto's through the phone screen, tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes as you immediately fell into a quick rhythm, your hand jerking over his length at a pace that matched the one inside him. Gojo could only nod pathetically, his face scrunching in pleasure as your hand focused on his tip, jerking over the sensitive red head quickly, causing cute squelches to echo throughout the room.

"You're so wet, Satoru." You whispered in awe, your mouth dropping into a small o as you milked his cock, the pool of pre-cum on his sheets between his legs making it look like he had already cum several times--you had no idea how he still had so much to give.

Gojo's body jerked around, the tears that had welled up in his eyes finally fell down his rosy cheeks, over the slope of his nose, and joined together on his pillow. "Fuck- please p-please- Nghhh- A-ah-" He didn't know what he was begging for. He was unsure if he wanted you to stop, or give him more. All he knew is that it was all so fucking overwhelming; having everyone's attention on him.

"Talk to us Satoru, how's it feel?" Geto asked, his words coming out more like begs as he felt himself steadily approach his orgasm, his hand focusing on his tip just like yours was doing on Satoru's. "I- I don't know I- fuck it's so much- too much-" Gojo answered, his eyes twitching and rolling back in his head.

You showed no mercy, jerking your hand faster over the entire length of his cock you stood on your knees and pistoned your fingers into his prostate more directly with the new leverage, resulting in Gojo's ankles crossing and kicking up at the intense pleasure. "I thought you wanted it rough? Do you take it back? Want me to stop?" You asked teasingly, knowing you weren't going to let up even if he begged you to stop.

"No! Nonono don't stop p-please don't stop-" Gojo cried, his head jerking against his satin pillowcase as he fought through the intense pleasure, his body jerking and spasming without his permission. "He's a fucking mess, look what you did~" Geto laughed, his dick twitching with interest at Gojo's teary, drooling face.

"Ahhh- ah- right there- keep f-fucking me right there-" Gojo gasped, his hands digging into his pillow as his eyes squeezed shut, his orgasm welling up in his tummy. "I think he's gonna cum pretty, is his cock twitching?" Geto asked, knowing very well what the telltale signs of a man's orgasm were.

You nodded, Gojo's cock was throbbing profusely in your hand, and his tight hole was squeezing more consistently around your fingers as well, almost like a heartbeat--it was so cute. "Oh yeah, you're gonna cum aren't you Satoru? Gonna cum from a few fingers in your ass? Hmm?" Geto teased, taking a sharp inhale in through his teeth as his own hand sped up, his cock twitching in his hold.

Satoru nodded, unable to voice his thoughts. Unable to scream from the top of his lungs, "Yes! Yes, I'm going to cum!" Instead, his jaw fell completely slack, drool pooling out of his mouth and onto the sheets as you worked him right up to his orgasm.

"Me too, look at me Satoru, look at me." Just moments before Satoru was pushed over the edge from your merciless fingers, he cracked his teary eyes open and was faced with Geto's long cock filling up the expanse of the phone screen, his massive hand jerking quickly over his length, making it almost look blurry from how fast he was going.

The visual of his best getting off to his ass being pummeled was all Gojo needed to be pushed off the edge. With a high-pitched cry of your name, his shaky hand shot back to grip your wrist as the first rope of his orgasm shot out of his cock, adding to the pool of his cum already between his legs, soaking into the sheets.

His hole squeezed tightly around your fingers, acting as if he was trying to snap them off, keeping them deep inside him. “Don’t stop- D-don’t stop” He begged pathetically, his wrist being dragged with you as you kept thrusting into him, working him through his high.

You moaned with him in awe as his body was wracked with tremors, threatening to collapse against the sheets. “I won’t, I got you Toru, I got you.” You consoled, paying special attention to his tip as you milked him for all he was worth.

Gojo’s thick cum made a mess of your fingers. Most of his hot cum landed on the bed sheets, but when someone cums as much as he does, it only makes sense that you got some on your fingers.

“Oh fuck- so pretty-“ Geto groaned, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of his teeth as he came. You and Gojo both watched as white streaks of cum landed on Geto’s abs and thighs, the squelching on his own cock got louder as his cum acted as lube over his cock, increasing the already messy slick on his length.

“I didn’t realize you were getting off to this Geto.” You said, your chest heaving with your own arousal as your eyes flit back and forth between Gojo’s tight hole and Geto’s cock on the screen.

Through his groans, you heard him laugh as you watched him wring out his cock, making sure all of his cum had released from his cock. “How could I not? You guys are so fucking hot.” His gruff voice spoke, the camera flipping back to his handsome face.

You and Gojo both silently mourned the loss of the view of Geto’s cock. Although it was fairly hard to be disappointed when his pale face came into view his cheeks dusted in a deep pink, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving as he tried to recover from his orgasm.

“H-hey-“ Gojo whined, his strength returning to his body as he gripped your wrist he had a hold of, signaling you stop moving inside him. You mumbled a quick ‘sorry’, you had gotten distracted watching Geto cum, forgetting you were pleasuring your handsome roommate underneath you.

You slowly pulled your fingers out of his ass, Gojo whined dramatically at the loss, his hole clenching around you in sensitivity. “You don’t wanna let me go, do you?” You giggled, your fingers finally slipping free of his tight hole.

“Fuck no~” Gojo giggled, the cloudiness slowly clearing from his brain, allowing his signature snarkiness to come back to him. Geto laughed as he set his phone down, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he wiped his softening cock clean with a towel.

“Suguru~” Gojo called in a singsong voice, his body collapsing on his side, his cock twitching limply against the sheets. Your hands rubbed along his thighs as he relaxed into the bed, noticing how a cute red flush was also dusting along his thighs and shoulders. Adorable.

“Were you paying attention? You have to admit that looked nice, right~?” Gojo asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man through the screen. Gojo’s ability to bounce back from even the most intense prostate orgasm was astonishing.

“I think it looks nice on you, sure.” Geto laughed, throwing the towel he used to clean his cock to the floor, grabbing his phone back in his hand as he laid back against his bed, throwing his arm behind his head.

Gojo pouted, rolling on his back to look at you for help with puppy eyes. “What are you looking at me for?” You asked, sitting back on your heels as you jerked your head back, looking around the room for anyone else Gojo could be looking at.

“I thought you were gonna help me convince himmm.” Gojo drawled, his arms pushing himself up to sit on his ass as he reached out for you. You blushed as you let him pull you into his arms, your hands falling on his chest with a surprised noise as you sat on his thighs, just under his cock.

“I could only do so much you know…” You said, avoiding his eyes as his hands made a home on your upper thighs, stroking the skin teasingly. “Maybe you should‘ve cried a little harder!” Geto chimed in, winking into the camera.

Gojo pouted, wiping his hands over his still-wet cheeks to rid the evidence of Geto’s teasing. “So all of that was for nothing then?” Gojo asked, looking between the two of you incredulously, his hand that had whipped at his cheek slapping back down onto the skin of your thigh.

“No, not nothing,” Geto said, looking smugly into the camera. You and Gojo looked to Geto confused, waiting for him to elaborate. “I discovered how bad I wanna fuck you both. That’s not nothing, right?” Geto revealed nonchalantly, making you and Gojo’s jaws drop in tandem.

You felt your face heat up at his confession. Maybe you hadn’t convinced Geto to play with his ass just yet, but you had unknowingly convinced him to play with something even better.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x geto #gojou x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #jujutsu geto #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x y/n #geto suguru drabble

[freedomfireflies]

Our Place*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where Harry invites you back to his apartment for the first time and it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, angst (happy ending), use of a safe word

Harry’s apartment is nicer than you expected. 

The furniture is cozy, the décor is unique, and his bedroom is well kept. He even has fresh flowers on his kitchen table. 

It surprised you, even though it shouldn’t. Harry doesn’t seem like a dirty guy, but truthfully, you were still shocked to find he had both sheets on his bed and no clothes on the ground.

You take in the tiny details of his life as he kisses down your neck and slips his fingers into your jeans. He’d wrangled you onto the bed only seconds after you walked through the door. He didn’t want to give you a tour of the whole apartment. Just the bedroom. Which you were more than all right with. 

He’s oddly desperate, given the circumstances. Maybe he always is, but tonight feels different. Tonight feels���hopeful.

“Shit, Tink,” he groans into your ear when he feels how wet you’ve become. “S’this just because you rode my bike?”

You gently swat the back of his head. “Stop it.”

“What?” He noses under your jaw. “Felt you squirming back there, Princess. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how you were trying to get yourself off to the vibrations?”

You wince. You didn’t even realize you’d been doing it. “I was not, I was just…the adrenaline was a lot—”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs and something about it sounds like honey. “S’fine, baby. You know I don’t mind.”

“Well…I wasn’t—”

“Sure. Can I fuck you now?”

You huff. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rips your jeans down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder and somewhere onto the floor. The warm air feels good and it’s then that you realize he’s right. You’re soaked, all the way through your panties.

But instead of taunting you further, he only tugs them aside and pulls his cock out. 

“I think…” he murmurs as he lines himself up, “…it’s high time I got you pregnant.”

Your mouth falls open in a moan as he drops a glob of spit onto your clit and pushes in.  

You’ve noticed that his breeding kink makes an appearance more often than not these days. Which you aren’t exactly complaining about. After all, you have one, too. Mostly thanks to him.

But it surprises you all the same as he starts to work himself in and out of your tight cunt, whispering the filthiest promises. 

“Think I won’t do it, hm? I will. Swell this pretty belly with my cum. S’what it was made for, wasn’t it? To take me. Have my babies. Gonna stretch you so pretty…get your tits leaking. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you, Princess?”

You try to respond but how can you? You feel as though you’ve been fucked dumb. Unable to hear anything past the pounding of blood in your ears.

His glasses start to slip down his nose. He almost always takes them off—they’re mostly for reading anyway. But you like the look of them. Like how studious it makes him seem...how scandalous.

So, you nudge them back up. Desperate to see him exactly the way he always is.

He smirks. “You all right there, Tink?”

You nod weakly. “Yes…yeah. M’fine.”

“Thinking about what I said?” He kisses down your chest. “Thinking about calling me Daddy for real? Having our babies?"

Our. A word you didn’t think belonged to you. Because Harry doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t belong to him. You’re two separate people. Even when you fuck, he’s in his world and you’re in yours. You weren’t meant to be an “our.”

You chalk this up to a slip of the tongue. Something you say when you're threatening to breed someone. And you choose not to give it any power. Because you know what happens if you do.

The fucking gets harder. Faster. He’s chasing a high. In fact, he's been chasing it since earlier in the bar when he saw you with another man. And you know he’s trying to hold off for you, but he wants to cum. He wants to paint your belly with his seed and fuck it back in. Wants to make good on his word even if he shouldn’t.

Your nails scratch down his back, damp and covered in sweat. But his muscles feel good in your hands and you whimper as you hike a leg over his hip and bury him in your pussy.

In your lust-filled haze, your attention drifts. Head rolling to the side as you focus on the soft grunts in your ear. 

But then, your eyes find something on his dresser.

Your heart stops.

In fact, everything stops. Your breathing, your noises, your gentle rolls to meet his thrusts.

It all stops. And you whisper, “Red.”

He quickly falls still. A rather impressive feat given how anxious he is to find release. From 100 to 0 in only seconds, and you almost feel guilty as you sense him glance at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through labored inhales. “What…what happened, what do you want me to do?”

But you don’t look back. You keep your focus on the piece of furniture in the corner of his room and you will yourself not to cry.

Eventually, he looks, too. And when he realizes, the air in the room shifts.

He lets out a soft sigh and drops his hand to your hip. Squeezing it once. “Tink…”

You say nothing. Tears are pooling behind your lashes and your chest feels tight. 

“Tink,” he tries again, firm. His grip tightens on your waist. “Tinkerbell—"

“She’s beautiful,” you breathe. You take in a soft gasp. “Oh, my god, Harry, she’s…she’s so beautiful.”

He’s quiet for only a moment. “Yeah. She was,” he agrees gently.

You can’t take your eyes away from the picture frame. The guilt is so much worse now than it was before. Your heart is in your throat, in your ears, lying on the floor next to your jeans. 

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. In his bed—their bed—fucking the man she died loving. While he promises to get you pregnant and give you his babies.

And how is he so calm? How the fuck is he looking at her picture while still inside of you instead of screaming at you to leave his apartment? How can he be okay with cheating on her with you?

“Princess,” he says again, and grabs onto your jaw to force your focus back to him. “Talk to me, what do you want me to do?”

Your lashes flutter. “What?”

“You said red,” he reminds you. “Which means we stop. But I need to know if you’re in pain or if I can pull out?”

It takes a moment for you to blink the fog from your mind and understand. But when you do, your stomach wrenches. “I…wait, shit, I…I want you to finish, I just…I saw her photo, and—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. He gives you a gentle smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there. But red means stop. And we’re gonna honor that. No matter why you said it.”

You whimper. “Harry, wait—”

“I’m gonna pull out,” he says, ignoring your plea. “And then we’re gonna talk—”

“Harry…Harry come on, you can’t—”

But he does. Even though he winces as slips himself out, teeth gritting together to keep from coming. 

But once he’s out, he delicately closes your legs, and sits beside you. “Okay,” he begins. He keeps your eyes on him. “What’s going on up there?” 

He nods at your forehead and you want to cry. “Nothing, I just…I…”

“You’ve never seen her before.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see her now,” he says for you. “Especially when we were fucking.”

You sniffle. “It felt like we were cheating. Like I was helping you hurt her. And then…and then I got worried that maybe you only brought me back here so you could pretend I was her. You know? With all the stuff about…about babies…and us, and…and—”

“Okay, breathe,” he instructs. He cups your cheek and presses his thumb to your trembling lips. “Breathe, Tink. Slow.”

Forced to obey, you suck in shallow gasps for air until your heart rate slows and your head doesn’t feel so dizzy.

Pleased, he says, “I know you’re not her, Tink. I don’t want you to be.”

Your expression softens.

“I brought you here because you’re the only person I want to see in the place she once lived,” he continues. His voice is strong. Steady. Like he’s given this far more thought than you anticipated. “After she died, I left it the same. I didn’t touch anything. Not the furniture she picked out. Not the dumb, cute little bowls she insisted we buy. Not the coffee pot that doesn’t work but she loved because she swore it made her coffee taste better. None of it.”

The tears fall down your cheeks, fast and without mercy. 

“I didn’t invite people over because I wanted to pretend she still lived here,” he tells you. “I wanted it to still be our place. Not just mine. And the thought of bringing someone else back here felt…wrong.”

You grab onto his wrist to keep his hand close and he smiles. 

“And then you,” he murmurs, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against yours. A display of affection you’d never expect from him. “And yeah, you’re annoying, and I hate you. But she would have fucking loved you.”

You nearly sob. 

“I want you here,” he says. “I want to talk about getting you pregnant and having our babies. I want to fuck you on this bed and I want to make you cry for a very different reason.”

You laugh through the tears.

“Look, I don’t believe in guardian angels and an afterlife and all that shit,” he admits. “But sometimes, I swear she sent you to me. And yeah, I probably should have moved the picture first. That was my fault, I haven’t had anyone in here in a while. But…you’re not her, Tink. You’re you. And that’s exactly who I want you to be.”

You can’t stop the next wave of emotion as you sling your arms around his neck and pull him close. He chuckles in your embrace but doesn’t fight you. He holds you, too. For as long as you both need.

“I hate you, too,” you finally whisper.

He smiles.

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“…can we please finish now?”

He leans back to see you. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You kiss him. “After all, you promised to get me pregnant. And I can’t leave until you do, Daddy."

The groan against your lips is delicious and devious.

And it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“As you wish.”

WHY DID THIS MAKE ME WANT TO CRY!!! ALSO HI I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

Previous Part:

~ The one where Harry gets jealous (again)

~ Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley

@myalovesharry @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave

@nuggetdean @triski73 @finelinesss

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #nerd!harry #smut #imagine #concept #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry and tink #engineer!harry #dom!harry #softdom!harry #enemies to lovers #angst

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hi sweet angel, I have to admit that I'm new to your profile, but my obsession with your writing is almost as great as my obsession with snow, I have a request that changes the story a little bit.

Coryo is completely obsessed with the reader, but she thinks he is just an affectionate friend, both become mentors and instead of snow falling in love with lucy, it is the reader who falls in love with her tribute, and begins to move away from Snow, he can not accept this and manipulates the games, Not for lucy to win, but rather, to get rid of the reader's tribute. (Sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, so I use Google translator)

Slipping Through My Fingers || Young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by i forgot sorry :( divided by @firefly-graphics

A/n: this took me forever to finish idk why 😭 also this has to be the longest fic i've written so far.

Warnings: mention of blood, possessive coryo, mentions of death

Wc: 2,975

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

"Can I see you tomorrow morning?" Coriolanus looks down at you with hope in his eyes, you open your mouth but close it before sighing. "I can't, sorry. My parents want me to be home when my grandparents are there," You lie through your teeth as he hums, nodding.

"That's fine, tomorrow afternoon then?" His hand touches your waist as you smile up at the boy. "Of course Coryo, I'll see you then?" You touch his hand that was at your waist as he nods. You give him one final smile before disappearing around the corner.

You felt bad for lying to him but you didn't know how he would take it if he found out that you were actually going to meet your tribute first thing when his train from the districts arrived in Panem. Your tribute, Dean, from district 8 intrigued you. You couldn't keep your eyes of the screen when he appeared. He caught your eye immediately.

Coryo couldn’t stop complaining all day about his tribute from district 12, Lucy Gray. Saying that she would not last a second in the game. Unlike him, you had faith in your tribute.

So here you were, standing on the platform waiting for the train to come to a halt as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A smile on your face, dimples on display as the doors open revealing Dean. He was taller than you imagined, but nonetheless, he looked surreal. There was no denying that Dean was good looking, incredibly good looking which you would imagine would play a role in the amount of donations he would have.

"Dean. Y/n Y/l/n. I'll be your mentor." You extend your hand out in front of him as he looks you up and down before shaking your hand. His shake was firm, his fingers calloused. An indication that he was a hard worker.

"Are you supposed to be here? I don't see other people like you around here," He says as he looks around the train station. You notice Coriolanus' tribute, Lucy Gray walking by and staring at the two of you questioningly. You make eye contact with her before clearing your throat and looking back at Dean who hadn't kept his eyes off of you.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here." You confess, your hands fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Then.... what are you doing here?" You pause. What were you doing here? You could have waited like the others for tomorrow to meet him.

"I uh- I wanted to welcome you to the Capitol." You offer him a smile. Silence. "Can I be blunt with you Dean?" Your head slightly tilts, a habit of yours when you ask questions. "Sure," He shrugs. "I see potential in you," You hold his hands in between yours as he glances down at your intertwined hands with an expression you couldn't quite figure out.

"You can win this hunger games. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do. Such potential like you for a bright future shouldn't be wasted," You solemnly smile at him. Dean stays quiet for awhile, his hand still in yours before a peacekeeper roughly pulls him away from you.

"Hey!" You shout as you follow the two. "It's time for them to go Miss." The peacekeeper says as he throws Dean into the back of a van. Just as he walks away from your view to close the door, you jump into the van along with the rest of the tributes. "What are you doing!" Dean whispers yells at you as you stay hidden behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors close. "What's this? Is this your mentor, Dean?" A girl you recognised to be Carol asks with a sinister smile. You push past Dean and extend your hand out for her to shake. She looks at your face then your hand and lets out a laugh.

"Why would I shake hands with someone like you." She spat as a few others laugh alongside her. You notice Lucy Gray once more, sitting there silently. "Why do you get special treatment Dean, huh?" Carol pushes you backwards catching you off balance as Dean catches you.

"I could kill her right now," Carol chuckles like a maniac. Dean moves you behind him, "Leave her alone," He voices out, his tone screaming authority. Before Carol could respond, the van shook violently as you all lose your balance. You let out a groan as you felt your body slam against the van door before it flies open, causing you all to roll out onto hard rocks.

You let out a groan as you slowly lift up your head, squinting your eyes at your surrounding before you hear Dean's voice. "Y/n! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as his grips your bicep, aiding you to stand up as you realise where you were. You were at the zoo cage.

You place a hand on your head as you let out a low groan. "Excuse me! Hello! Over there! Can they not hear me in there?" You hear a familiar voice belonging to Lucretius Flickerman. Dean takes a hold of your forearm, helping you keep balance as he whispers to you, "Own it." You look up at him with a small smile. He offers his arm to you as you link arms and walk towards the iron bars.

"Y/n Y/l/n, one of the mentors for the 10th hunger games." Lucretius says to the camera as he then directs his gaze towards you. "The game makers did tell you to jump into the cage with them," His tone was skeptical. Dean looks down at you as you glance at him before looking at Lucky.

"They didn't tell me not to. They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem, and I thought well if Dean is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?" You say with confidence, "For the record, I didn't have a choice," Dean butts in.

"What is Y/n doing there?" Arachne gasps as she ctaches the attention of Snow and the others as they look to the screen. There you were, linked arms with a tribute, looking awfully comfortable with him to add. Snow furrows his eyebrows at disbelief that you were there.

You told him that you were to be at home, but clearly not. Coriolanus watches with intent as you look at Dean when he spoke. His fists bawl up as Clemensia makes a comment. "You alright Coryo? You look.... bothered," Her hands rest on Snow's upper arm as he pries her touch off of him.

"I'm fine," He snaps as he leans forward on his seat. He was bothered. Very bothered seeing you so close with a tribute. "He's obviously not fine, he's bothered seeing Y/n so touchy with her tribute, isn't that right Snow?" Arachne teases as he slams his hand on the table causing her to shut up. "Shut it, Crane." Coriolanus says through gritted teeth as Arachne puts her hands up in surrender.

"They look really close. Can't blame Y/n honestly, she got a good looking one," He hears Clemensia quietly say before he had enough and stood up, storming off.

~

"Coryo," You call out as you catch up to him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you offer him a smile. He says nothing, his face stern as he continues to walk, not bothering to look at you. "Hey listen, I'm sorry I stood you yesterday, I just got super busy-" "Yeah I saw, busy with your tribute right?" He gives you a sarcastic smile as you scrunch your eyebrows.

You were all making your way to the enclosed cage to talk to your tributes. "What?" Snow rolls his eyes at you, finally stopping. "I saw your interview with Flickerman. Looked awfully close to your tribute," You let out small chuckle as his face shows no sign of amusement.

"Coryo, I was just introducing myself to him and getting to know him that's all. I have faith in him that he will win and I wanted him to know that. Wouldn't you do the same with your tribute if you had faith in her?" You touch his arm as he looks at your hand.

"Right?" You try and get a response from him as he sighs, "I guess," Is all he says before intertwining his hands with yours. You look down at your hands, a sweet gesture from him. When you both get closer to the tributes, you unclasp your hands with Snow and walk towards Dean who has already seen you and was making his way closer to you.

"Hey," You greet Dean as you look through your bag and find the half of your sandwich and cookie which you put away for him. You hand it to him as he thanks you, immediately taking bites as you watch him. He could feel your stares as you look away. Your eyes land on Coriolanus and Lucy.

He was talking to her about something as Lucy looks towards you and Dean. Snow finally looks at you, his expression cold as you gulp and look at Dean who was already looking at you. "He your boyfriend or something?" He asks as he takes another bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen. "Who? Coryo? No." You laugh as Dean stares at you.

"He's just a close friend of mine." You say as he nods, unbothered. "Do you? Do you- uh- have a-" "No." He deadpans as you slowly nod. From afar, Snow was watching the two of you interact the entire time. "Do you want to win Lucy Gray?" He turns his attention from you to his tribute.

"Do you think I can win?" She asks him as he thinks. "Honestly? no." He admits as Lucy scoffs. "But if you listen to what I say and do what I tell you to do, you will." His tone was stern as Lucy nods, her eyes following his eyeline which led to you and Dean. "That your girlfriend? That girl who was with us yesterday in the van."

"Her and Dean seem to be close, don't you think?" Lucy watches Coriolanus' face, his jaw clenching at the mention of the two. "They're not close, she just knows how to play the game," Coriolanus snaps before standing up and backing away from Lucy Gray.

~

You hadn't spoken much to Coriolanus the past couple of days. You were with Dean quite a lot, making up strategies and scenarios for when the games started. "I care about you, Dean. A lot." You take his hands in yours, the sound of his iron shackles making you cringe as you look him the eyes. Dean looks around the room before caressing your hand.

You and Dean have gotten very close over the past days. You both had faith in each other, trusted one another. Coriolanus narrows his eyes at the two of you, 2 desks away from him before his gaze settles on your touching hands.

He lets out a quiet scoff as Lucy Gray looks over to you and Dean. "Do you know him?" Snow asks her as he cocks his head towards Dean. Lucy shakes her head. "You want to win, don't you?" He leans in close to her.

Lucy hesitantly nods her head, "Yes. Yes you do Lucy." He answered for her, his gaze hard on her as she squirmed under his stare. "You need to kill Dean first. You need to before he kills you. He's a strong competitor, I can tell, that's why you need him out first. Then, it will be a piece of cake." He smirks as he leans back on his chair. "What do I need to do?"

~

“Y/n,” Coriolanus calls out as you turn your head to his direction, a small smile on his face as you beam at him. You run to him, throwing your arms around him as you hug him tightly. Coryo was caught off guard but eventually hugs you back.

“Good luck,” You say, although it was slightly muffled against his shirt. “You too,” He says back, his hand rubbing your back as you pull back, giving him your pearly white grin that only a few were able to see. Coriolanus felt a pull at his heart for he knew what was going to happen would break you.

Your other classmates arrive as you get settled for the 10th hunger games to start. Your eyes were trained on the screen as you watch Dean kill 2 people. You bite your fingernails as you continue to watch it play out infront of your eyes. Coriolanus offers his hand as you take it, squeezing it as you watch Dean.

A couple hours pass by and everyone sits up when they watch Coryo's tribute, Lucy Gray being corned by a few of the others, Dean included. In the corner of your eye, you watch Coryo come up to his screen and rapidly click.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as drones of water come flying at the tributes, knocking them out as the room erupts in gasps. "These drones are not very good," Flickerman comments. "Hey! What are you doing?" Vipsania shouts as she stands up.

"You can't attack the tributes Coryo!" You snap at him. "I'm just sending water," He coolly says as you shake your head and scoff. Dean managed to dodge them luckily. You watch as Lucy Gray runs, Dean chasing after her as your leg bounces.

She manages to hide in one of the vent holes as you notice Snow let out a sigh of relief. Dean punches the vent in anger as he eventually leaves her. A few more hours pass by as you fell asleep, the sound of banging wakes you up. Coryo was nowhere to be found.

Your eyes focus on the screen as Dean and Coral stand underneath a vent pipe. Coral's pitchfork was reportingly stabbing at the vents above. Dean follows the noises, his gaze on the vent. "Coral. Coral she's right here," He whispers to her as she continues stabbing at the vent. Coriolanus then runs in, "Lucy Gray, is she okay?" He says out of breath.

"She wont be for long," Festus comments as everyone's eyes are trained on the screen. All of a sudden, Dean touches his nose as he looks confused. You immediately stand up on your feet, "Wait, what's wrong with Dean?" You move closer as he falls on his knee making your heart race.

"Did Coral do something to Dean?" You panic as Dean starts spazzing out on the floor. Coryo glances at you. Lucy Gray did what he told her to do. He had snuck her rat poison to use, if a small amount was to be inhaled, it would be deadly.

You cover your mouth as your eyes widen. Dean was laying on the ground, not moving at all. You flinch at the sound of a buzzer going off, indicating that he was in fact dead. Dean was dead. And you didn't even know how it happened. You storm out but before you could, Coryo grips your arm, "I'm sorry," He says as you furrow your eyebrows at what he meant before snatching your arm from his grip. "Dean is down. Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," Flickerman calls out.

You storm out with rage. Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to make it out alive. You even promised him he would come out alive and go back to his family. One moment he was perfectly fine, and then the next, he's on the floor spazzing out and then dead. Your mind drifts back to Coriolanus' words, I'm sorry. What did that even mean? You assumed he was just apologising that your tribute was dead.

~

Lucy Gray had managed to win. You were happy for Coryo of course. But Dean’s recent death still plagued your mind. “Y/n,” Coryo breathed out the moment you opened your door to him; he reached out for you, pulling you against his chest.

It caught you by slight surprise before you hugged him back. The pent up emotions finally releasing the moment he rubs your back affectionately. “Shh” He softly shushed you as waterfalls fall down your cheeks. Everything was chasing up to you.

“I-I don’t even know what happened to him,” You sob in his embrace as he traces shapes on your arm. You continued to rant to him as he brought you to your living room.

You rested your head against his chest as he listened, sometimes he would bite his tongue at the things you were saying about Dean. "He was just a tribute y/n-" "He was not just a tribute." You snapped, lifting your head up as you stared at his blue irises.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes the minute you turn your head back around. "He's human, just like you and I. He had dreams, he had a family to go back to Coryo, do not just sit there and tell me he was just a tribute. He's more than a tribute," Coriolanus listened to every single word that came out of your mouth.

He did not agree with most of the things you said but for the sake of it, he said nothing. When you spoke about Dean, it grew on Coriolanus that you infact liked him, alot. Perhaps even more than like. And that was why he felt the need to kill him. You were his, only his. And after all, he couldn't have some lowly district boy taking over your body and soul.

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[drefear]

Closer by NIN

This is part two for Nasty

Summary: You and Miguel have been finding things out about each other through your music choices.

TW: When I say that this one is rough, I mean that this type of sex could get you arrested. I'd bail him out. biting, scratching, dacrophilia, p in v, breeding kink, honestly just everything.

Miguel was panting a bit, rolling off of your body as you both came down from your high together. It had been a few weeks since he listened to that damn song you loved and found out about what you liked in bed, fully using this to his advantage and constantly making you a squirming mess underneath him. 

His eyes stared at the ceiling with a smile on his lips, then closing them for a second before feeling you shift beside him in his bed. He felt your breast press onto his chest as you laid on top of him and his hands slid to hold your waist, peaking open one eye at your smirking face. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, mamacita?” He questioned, tapping his fingers into your skin a bit as you rested your chin on his pecks. You could feel his heartbeat becoming normal again after your rigorous rounds. 

“I’m just wondering what your turn ons are? What makes you insatiable and want more?” You go on and on as he just chuckles, brushing some of the hair from your face as you stare at him with your big doe eyes, filled with curiosity. 

“You, mi amor.” He answers and closes his eyes again, pulling you tight to him as he rolls onto his side and pecks your forehead. “Now we need to sleep, we have an early debriefing tomorrow.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit, pushing out your bottom lip even though his eyes were closed. 

You maniacally rubbed your hand against his still half-hard cock and his grunted, grabbing your wrist quickly to stop you. “Bebe.” His tone had shifted to authoritarian fast and you let out a ‘hmph.’

“One more, papi, please. One more round and I’ll sleep like a baby.” You begged and his eyes opened as an amused grin fell on his full lips. “I promise.” You finished and he yanked one of your legs around his hips, burying his face into your neck. 

“I can’t so no to my precious girl.” he nipped as you giggled, and you both continued once more, before falling asleep. 

The next day, Miguel was exhausted. One more round turned into three more rounds and then sex on the bathroom floor, in his kitchen, and giving him head in his elevator. 

So you could say it was definitely worth it to him. 

You brought out a sexual prince in him, someone caring and full of sweet, buttery smooth words that made your panties a swimming pool in the middle of July. And he was always welcome to dive in. 

“Wow. That’s a new record.” Jess spoke and you looked around, confused. “The hickeys, I mean.” She points to your neck and you immediately close the mask of your suit to avoid her scrutiny any more. She laughed lightly, “don’t be like that, remember that I’m technically the one who led him to give you said hickeys.” She prompts and sits, leaning on your desk. “So I’m guessing it’s all going good?” 

“Better than good, Jess. He’s- he’s like a God in bed.” 

“Wow. He must really be into it.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked, now scrunching your brows together. 

“Well, listen- he’s an attractive guy, and you’re not the only person with eyes at the HQ. He’s slept with a few in the past before he met you, but it was always a one-and-done thing, so I’m just impressed that he’s opened up about what he’s into.” 

And then you sunk down in your seat. “What… he’s into?” You questioned. 

“Well, yeah. You two always do what you both want, right? He used to complain about how vanilla most people were, so you must be doing something right.” She stands again and walks off. 

Leaving you alone to your thoughts. What… he wanted? You assumed that he was into what you were into, since you’d found him jerking off to exactly the things you’d wanted to hear, especially after that song- 

The song!

Oh, Jess and her big mouth probably told him about your love for that song! You blushed in embarrassment as you thought about him submitting to what you wanted. 

You didn’t want him to only focus on your turn ons, you wanted compromise and to share his darker fantasies. Isn’t that what a relationship was? 

“Lyla,” you called out and found the little AI pop up in front of you. “I need to know what sexual interests Miguel has.” The orange hologram sputtered a cough for a second while you rolled your eyes at her overdramatic display. “Lyla, you don’t even breathe.” 

“If I did, I'd be gasping in shock and clutching my pearls.” She shot back and you just sighed in defeat. “Besides, those files aren’t accessible to just anyone. You need permission from Miguel or me.” She folded her arms.

“Wait- permission? Like… his passcode?” You blurted out with hopes and Lyla nodded. 

“Well, yes, but-“ 

“Thanks Lyla.” You cut her off and hurried to his office, ignoring the hologram calling back to you. Your steps finally made it to the dark office Miguel used, more like a workshop for a robotics technician, but you didn’t dare correct him when it came to the Society. 

“Miguelito?” You called out, testing out a theory. When silence was your only companion in the room, you smiled and continued your plans. 'Perfect!' You cheered to yourself and hopped to swing onto his platform. 

The screens were much higher than you could see or reach, so you jumped up to sit on his desk and tap along the floating screens. You found what you were looking for after a minute, being greeted by Lyla once more. 

“You know, he’ll be made when he finds out.” She announced and you shrugged. 

“Not if I put what I find to good use.” You answered and the AI pretended to wretch, feigning nausea. 

“Gross. Hold on, if it’s that important to you, I might be able to bypass the code. But I’ll deny ever being here if you throw me under the bus.” Lyla answered and tapped something, then letting you watch the code fill itself. 

“This is his porn history. He doesn’t know I can see it, and I’m happy he doesn’t because that conversation would be really weird.” She pops a few screens, but most of them are just… 

“Is this... my social media?” You wobbled on the desk for a second from leaning back in shock. 

“Yeah, it tends to get him going pretty easily. Sometimes he listens to certain music, too.” She adds and you look directly at her, making her sigh and hold her glasses in disappointment. “I hate that I’m enabling you.” 

“Don’t stop now.” You demand and she lets his playlist pop up, one titled after you. 

Most of the songs seem to be very lovey dovey- and that’s when you find it. 

“Nine inch nails…?” Your surprise was evident as you read the band name once more. “I listened to this band in high school.”

“So did he. Believe it or not, he was a little rebellious in high school. I think it was the daddy issues.” Lyla tapped the song and the strange sounds from the song played heavily. 

“Thanks Lyla!” You tapped her away and ran from his desk, trying to make it as though you had never been there. Your mistake. 

That night, you began playing the song while cooking and tried to focus on the lyrics. 

“You let me violate you 

You let me desecrate you 

You let me penetrate you 

You let me complicate you”

Your jaw dropped, listening to the words. Oh.

The song exuded dominance and power, something very Miguel. But you didn’t think he could be so… rough. Of course he could be rough, the man had fangs and claws, but you thought he was much more into sentimental experiences, making love and such. You didn't realize he wanted to fuck.

Pressing your palms flat into the counter, you'd long forgotten your meal when the chorus bursts through your speakers. 

“I wanna fuck you like an animal 

I wanna feel you from the inside 

I wanna fuck you like an animal 

My whole existence is flawed 

You get me closer to God”

Your knees became jelly as you imagined him saying thing these things to you, gravel voice smirking as you fall to the ground before him and worship him like he deserves- like he would demand. 

“you tear down my reason

(Help me) it's your sex I can smell 

(Help me) you make me perfect

Help me become somebody else”

You could feel the desperation in the reverb of the songs drums. It’s no wonder he always inhales so deeply when he eats you out, he’s letting his animalistic instincts take over. He’s technically part spider, which is inherently an animal. He literally needs to fuck you like an animal to feel his whole DNA’s satisfaction. 

“I wanna fuck you like an animal 

I wanna feel you from the inside 

I wanna fuck you like an animal 

My whole existence is flawed 

You get me closer to God”

You breath hitches and you hear the door close, your head shooting up as you can hear the sound of his boots coming closer, spider senses tingling from behind you. 

“So… the scent of your wet pussy was all over my desk when I got back from Peter's universe… want to tell me why?” He inquired and you wanted to answer, but the hand sliding up your body and the thoughts plaguing your mind from the still-playing song we’re holding your tongue hostage. “No answer? My good girl always answers me, what's wrong? His gentle kisses land on the slope of your neck and you give him more access by tilting your head.

“What if I don’t want to be a 'good girl' tonight? What if…” he freezes and starts to put everything together. You snuck into his office, this song, your pheromones filling the room. 

“What if what?” He growls and you practically cum at the sound of his aggravated voice hissing at you. 

“What if… I want you to do what the song says… and fuck me like an animal.” 

His brain drowns in conflicted emotions. He wants nothing more to practically maim your skin with his claws and teeth, fucking you so roughly that you beg him to stop and take a break, plead for him to breed you like a whore, to hear you crying from how hard he’s going, how bad it hurts and amazing it feels. He wants to see you wake up with a limp in your walk and a belly full of his potential children. 

But then he also doesn’t want to scare you away. He doesn’t want you to be forced to do those things just because you want him to finish, to feel satisfaction. He’s more than satisfied with you, loves the sex you two have, he doesn’t need-

The words fly through his head, but everything stops when you roughly grab his cock through his suit and get onto your knees before him. 

“Mi corazón… you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He encourages you to stand up again, to stop asking for this, but you bury your face into the fabric and breathe in deeply. 

“Please, I need it in my mouth. I want you to fuck my mouth.” You beg and who is he to deny such a gorgeous request when he can see your fat tits practically spilling from the keyhole of your spider suit from this angle. 

“Fuck. Fine.” He says through gritted teeth and yanks your head backwards by your hair, disabling his suit completely as his cock pops out and smacks you a bit. He likes the sounds, likes the view of his face smothering precum across your cheeks and lips. And he wants more. “You like the idea of me suffocating you on my cock, forcing myself down your throat for you to suck?” He slaps his hard dick across your face and because of the weight and width, it actually kinda stings. “That’s it, my little slut… so horny just for me, so hungry to take my dick.” He roughly grabs your face and forces your mouth open, smushing your cheeks in his large hands and tapping his tip on your tongue. “Open wide and stick out that tongue.” He commands and you comply, tongue out and mouth open for him. 

He slams into your mouth until you can’t take much more, still missing a few inches of him. “Relax your throat, or I’ll fuck it so hard that you’ll be forced to.” He threatens and you try to lessen your muscles tightening. Pulling your hair into his body until your nose is smashed against his pelvis, dark happy trail against your lips.

The gagging makes him practically cum then and there, but he won’t let this end just yet. No, he needs to enjoy this more. unbeknownst to him, you were on the verges of an orgasm just from him fucking into the back of your throat one time. You hand slides down to touch your clit and rub yourself in gentle circles.

Sliding out, he rams his cock back into your waiting cavern and begins a relentless speed, shoving himself further and further each time until he can see the bulge of his dick in your esophagus. His head falls back and his fingers tighten in your hair, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as he brutalizes your throat and refuses to stop. His hand pins your head between the countertop of the kitchen and his postponing hips, refusing to stop until he feels your nails on one hand digging into his thighs and making him almost cum. You groan on his dick and he realizes that sound, he knows that's a signal that you've just finished with your own hand. He yanks himself out and starts fisting his cock fast as you cough and gasp for air, tears still forming mascara tracks down your cheeks. 

He bends down and hurls you over his shoulder, then throwing you onto the ground of the living room and making you do a split on your back, blushing at how exposed he had you. Three sharp claws formed from his fingers and he shredded the hips of your suit, bending down to your tits and latching the top in his mouth so when he turned his head, the rip was loud and your nipples were open to the cold air. 

“You’re going to lay here and take my cock until the only words you know how to say are ‘Miguel please fuck me.’ And I’m not stopping until you pass out from exhaustion.” He declares and puts the tip of his dick in your entrance, not even wasting a second and thrusting into you completely, making a scream tear through your throat in pain as he once again found your hair and thrusted. The lack of accommodation made you tighter than you’d ever felt, jerking hips his harder as your hand fell onto his abs to push him away, hiccups coming from your lips as the pain begins to grow at how hard he could go. 

“That’s it, shut the fuck up and take this cock. Cry about it, try to get away, but I’ll pull you back and fuck. You. Harder.” He rammed his hips into yours to punctuate every word of the end of the sentence. “I’ll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to get up for work tomorrow.” He says as he pounds his tip into your cervix, most definitely bruised and possibly hurt worse. But god, did it feel good, watching him get so crazy, so psychotically obsessed with you. 

“Migu-el!” Your words get broken up with as I should have been gone. 

“That’s it, my little bitch in heat, I’ll fuck you so hard, your entire bottom half with be black and blue.” He grunted and groaned, starting to feel like an animal on the discovery channel, then bending down and biting into your skin hard. Blood drew at the little punctures and he continued to bite deep, painful marks all over, looking like you were stung by a bunch of bees. His hands slid up your back and you felt the claws in his fingers latch onto you, scrapping across your smooth body and forming bloodied lines and marks of what looked like pure aggression, but if only everyone who saw them knows… 

You were fucking loving this.

Your body looked like an anomaly mission gone wrong; dark, scattered bruises that looked like they’d take weeks to heal, punctures all over your body like you were a piece of cheese, and red scraps like you’d tumbled into a bed of razors. All done by Miguel and his primal needs, and you’d let him do it again and again as long as he used his cock to completely pummel your insides. 

“F-fuck me, please, Miguel…” you gasped and choked out as his eyes blared red like sirens on a cop car, heaving and large above you. You orgasm around him and he makes a sound as if he’s a roaring lion.

“That’s it, ask me to destroy this slutty pussy, to breed you, to own you.” His words come out in an octave you didn’t know he could reach and your back arches, keeping his dick in you as he flips you over. 

Like a battering ram in and out of your pussy, he holds your arms and yanks your body back and forth on his cock like his own life sized pocket pussy. “Perfect little cocksleeve, letting me use her body like a fuckin whore. Only mine, no one else can touch you, mine.” he grunts and growls as he attacks your back again, wet lines of him basically slobbering all over you like a dog. He humps into you at a dizzying speed and you cum again, the searing burn of a too-fast orgasm swimming through your belly as he smiles and ruts upward, bullying your g-spot more and more. 

“One more, you can do one more, right?” He insists and makes sharp, hard movements against that spot. You weep louder as the lewd sounds of your wet pussy sucking him in and milking him dry echo around the room. Miguel moves to web together your arms behind your back, holding them now with one hand and grasping the back of your neck like a handle with the other, smashing his hips into your suffocating insides. "I'm not asking, you will give me one more, I want to feel your cunt clamp down on me again and try to suck the cum out of my cock."

Everything becomes white noise as another painful and overwhelming orgasm wracks though your body, making you jerk and shutter wildly as he holds you in his control and rides you through it. 

“That’s it, you’re my fucktoy, my personal little cunt for me to ruin and get pregnant. Gonna be all knocked up, gonna let me cum in you and fill you up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck this cunt for the rest of my fuckin life.” His words send him tumbling into his own climax, shooting his seed so deep inside you that you swear it’s gonna spill out of your mouth. Miguel’s dick is so deeply buried within you as he cums that your legs shake and the muscles cramp, dropping below him. You’re completely fucked out, everything feeling like an irritation to your bloody, bruised skin. 

And the look on Miguel’s face is heartbreaking once he looks at you. Yes, it makes his dick hard again, but it makes his mind unravel into panic. He needs to apologize. How could he mark you up like this, damage you like this? He never should have let go, never should have-

“Wanna go again?” You mumble out and give him a little smirk. And he completely malfunctions.

“You… enjoyed that?”

“Are you joking? That was the most amazing sex of my entire life. We can do the sweet sappy stuff I taught you some other time, now abuse my cunt with your cock again please.” You beg and Miguel thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. 

You will be the death of him, and as he plunges into your hole once more, propping a pillow under your hips, he thinks about what type of sex playlist you two are gonna make together.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel

[sugarlywhispers]

s.kiyoomi + gf moments

☆— fem reader, crack, fluff

☆— a/n; i don't know what this is, i just had a thought and felt like writing it.. it could become a serie of events until the Sakusa Kiyoomi finally admits he loves y/n (?) idk, let me know if you like the idea😊

You have been best friends with Bokuto since you were young. Your friendship was so fun and purely like brother and sister that you even decided to move together once high school was over and your University period of life began. Even if you were very different in personalities, somehow you both worked together and couldn't imagine a life without him as your bestie-almost brother.

After some time living together, you got very used to seeing some people around the house almost everyday, his volleyball teammates.

First, it was Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu was the biggest flirt you have ever encountered in your life, almost to the point in which sometimes it annoyed you. In a good way though. He was a cutie.

While Kiyoomi was very chill and shy, he mostly kept to himself if no one bothered him; but he had the most snarky and filled with sarcasm answers for whatever antics Boo and 'Tsumu could come up with. You loved it.

Then Hinata Shouyo joined the team, and it was like a whirlwind uprooted everything in his path. He was the most outgoing and sociable and kind human being you have ever met.

And it all became like a routine. Everyday after practice, all of them would come to have dinner at yours and Boo's apartment. By this time, you already know all of them and how they all liked things and their meals. Especially Omi. He was a particular, rare especimen.

Bokuto had warned you before introducing him, how he did not like physical contact or how he wouldn't take off his mask if he wasn’t playing in a match or eating. He warned you not to feel offended or take it personal if he bluntly commented on how things were not clean enough or whatever.

But surprisingly, he had never looked down on anything in your apartment or even commented anything in front of you.

There was even one time he did comment in the middle of dinner, "I'm surprised how you maintain everything this clean and organized considering you live with Bokuto…"

"Hey!" Boo complained, mouth full of food, while everyone laughed.

That same night, Boo had pestered you about how the Sakusa Kiyoomi liked you. Of course, you couldn't believe it. The man barely spoke to you outside of those moments the team was present at your apartment. 

It was until one night, when everyone came of course after practice to have dinner you were already cooking, when he did something you never thought he would do.

Of course, the amount of noise they made even before getting inside the apartment was a clear sign they were almost there. Shouyo and Boo always came straight to hug, picking you up and squishing you hard as a greeting. Atsumu would fist pump and wink at you before throwing himself on the sofa, of course putting some other volleyball's team match on the TV. While Omi would simply bow slightly with his head, not even getting too close to you, standing on the entrance of the kitchen.

By this time, you already knew and respected each one of them and their ways to show how much they appreciated you.

"It smells so good, Y/N," whined Shouyo as he entered the kitchen and made his way to the fridge to pick something to drink.

Omi was so quiet you have not realized he had followed the red-mostly orange-head and was standing at the door of the kitchen.

"I'm glad you think that," you smiled happily.

"He says that about almost everything. He would eat a bug and say exactly the same thing if he's hungry enough."

To say that you were surprised to hear his deep voice speak that amount of words was small. Yet, you couldn't avoid finding it funny how he always got the cleverest answers and dark humor. So you laughed, while Shouyo pouted, drinking from the beer he took from the fridge–it was Friday night after all.

You kept cooking, smiling and listening to how Shouyo complained to his teammate how evil he was with him when he was all nice to him.

"Alright you two…" you meddled, smiling happily at the incessant noise from everyone around, "If you're gonna keep arguing, you could at least help on setting the table, right?"

They both nodded while moving around to find what they needed, still arguing, but now about something else which sounded like Shouyo's height. Omi loved getting on Shouyo's nerves when it came to his height.

"What's that, Y/N?" Shouyo suddenly asked, signaling to a set of a plate, forks, a glass and a mug that were separated in a corner of the cupboard.

"Oh. That's Omi's," you said, your attention anywhere but said man.

"I don't remember leaving my stuff here," he commented, with no mean intention in his voice towards you.

"No, I mean… I know you don't like your stuff mixed with everyone's, so I picked a set I always clean twice and kept it separated from everything else. No one touches or uses that but you," you answered him, still looking at the food you were cooking over the oven.

Oh, God, kill me now, was all you thought as silence reigned in the kitchen.

But then, you felt a tall, warm presence behind you. You knew it was Omi, Shouyou was not that tall–he was only a head over yours, while you knew Omi was much taller.

It was the first time the Sakusa Kiyoomi got that close to you and it shocked you to the core. But what surprised you the most was when you felt his chin rest on your head comfortably.

"Thank you, Y/N," you could feel the vibrations of his deep voice and the rumble of his chest on your back saying your name, his entire dark but comfy aura so close to you, all you could think was how good it felt.

If you would have turned a bit to Shouyo's direction, you would have seen him with his eyes open wide, like those funny cartoons where their eyes popped off their face to express shock. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, he simply turned on his feet and flew from the kitchen to the living room where Tsumu and Boo were.

"You're welcome," was all you could say, almost a whisper, as he comfortably stayed there, barely a centimeter of distance between his body and yours.

If you weren't shocked enough by that, you definitely almost collapsed when you felt one of his fingers timidly caress your hand that was not holding the spoon you were cooking with, resting next to your hip. It had been barely a touch, yet the warmth and little tingling it provoked made you take a deep breath to gather your mind straight.

If you hadn't before, now you definitely were falling for this rare specimen. 

#haikyuu au #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyū!! #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa scenarios #haikyuu sakusa #msby sakusa #msby imagines #sakusa fluff