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tteokdoroki · 5 months

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jock bf yuuji who’s tongue lolls out of his mouth when he feels u cum on his dick and then he ends up cumming when you suck on his tongue as it hangs out of his mouth <3 he’s a big manhandler and so unbelievably strong, has def broken the weak frame of your dorm bed at least once <3 loves sleeping over and then waking up to you in the early morning light, eats you out then has you ride him and you’re both thinking about it for the rest of the day <3 yuuji sends you the riskiest texts too, texts you that he can’t stop thinking about how good you looked when you sucked him off the night before and now you’re distracted in the library <3

ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #6. pleasure prioritised.

about. just some scenarios of an incredibly strong jock boyfriend pleasing his girlfriend in different ways. thank you nonnie for driving me up the wall with this!!! ( 1K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, smut, college!au, characters aged up to 20s, creampies, messy makeouts, breaking the bed, strength!kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m!receiving), jock bf!yuuji, weird + fem!reader.

everybody knows that yuuji itadori is strong, he wouldn’t be the star athlete in the soccer team if that wasn’t the case.

with muscles that ripple when he moves, thick thighs that spread wide and flex on instinct and dark eyes that shine like gold while pulling you in — it’s no wonder why half of the campus wants a piece of him. luckily enough, yuuji itadori only wants to give himself to you.

yuuji only uses the full extent of strength when he devotes his body to pleasing you. when it’s lights out at your dorm go out, and the common spaces are vacant while your roommates party the night away and all that remains is a man who loves his girlfriend with all of his entirety. and a girl who loves him all too much, right back. he pins you to the bed, pelvis to pelvis as yuuji uses all of his might to pound into you.

his thrusts are usually heavy, but thoughtful and with meaning — designed to make you see bright, shining stars behind your eyelids and pull an angels song from between your lips. itadori doesn’t just fuck you — his sweet girlfriend, his everything, his purpose. he makes love to you, makes the bed rock while his sticky tip stays tacked to your g-spot and safe, comforting brown his eyes stay locked on yours, reminding you of how much you are loved as you tremble and quake beneath him.

there’s often a dull thump to the wall from where the force of yuuji’s hips drive the headboard into it. only you ever have the power to make your man that feral, have him drooling like a dog with its tongue in the wind whenever he has the chance to sink into your tight heat. it’s the way your snug little pussy ripples around the giant jock’s fat girth, his tummy smooshed up against your puffy clit does nothing to help him either. the more ecstasy he gives you, the more you clench down on your boyfriend and the further his eyes disappear into his skull.

itadori just loves being inside of you, tucking his thriving dick away inside your velveteen walls, hearing your pussy suction around you and your cheap dorm mattress squeak in harmony with your hiccuped moans. yuuji, yuuji, yuuji. his name on your kiss swollen and tear glossed lips is enough for the pink haired man to break the bed from how hard and deep he thrusts into you. even when it does collapse in on itself, yuuji doesn’t dare stop until you’re cumming in sweet streams around him — painting his toned stomach and washboard abs in your arousal before he fills you up with his own thick white.

he usually cums with his drooling tongue in your mouth and an arm wrapped around your head, keeping you tucked underneath while he grinds his hips through your shared highs. sometimes salacious laments and high-pitched whines manage to slip through the cracks — which mean noise complaints from the Dean of your dorm and a call to maintenance in the morning to fix your destroyed bed (and walls).

mornings are no different (once your bed is fixed), yuuji itadori always fails to keep his hands to himself and if he’s lucky enough to stay the night — he uses those very same greedy and large hands to pleasure you all throughout sunrise. you wake up to find fingers on the swollen little nub tucked between your puffy pussy lips and his eager tongue swiping over the eight of your slit to catch any of your juices before they’re wasted on cheaply made college-friendly sheets.

it’s a sight to behold, the way you arch your back from the bed and your thighs quiver either side of a head full of bright pink hair that tickles their insides. you can’t help but tug on the soft tufts — dragging yuuji further into your creamy cunt while accidentally kicking plushies galore from their place amongst your pillows and blankets. itadori remains a messy eater, slurping on your succulent folds, running laps over every inch of the heat between your glorious thighs.

except you don’t get to cum on his mouth or his tongue on mornings like this — instead yuuji likes to really show off his strength. he likes you in his lap and seated on the swell of his fat, oozing girth. he adores plugging you full, watching you writhe above him for something, anything. any type of thrust or friction. yuuji can’t help himself, he’s always dying to grope the globes of your ass when you’re riding him, using the strength in his arms to hold over his bright red ans milky tip before pumping himself all the way into you in one calculated thrust upwards.

both of you cum before either of your alarms go off, messy as always but content. you’re happy with yuuji and he’s always so happy to please you — it’s the least he could do for his precious girl.

itadori always leaves you with a limp throughout the rest of your day — a comfortable pain in the base of your spine that reminds you of how deep he’d gone. there’s a dampness to your underwear during your classes too, reminding you of how much hot, oozing seed the jock had filled you up with. ‘keep it there,’ the pink haired soccer player tends to ask with those guilt-tripping puppy dog eyes of his. ‘want you walking around with my cum dripping down your thigh, so that everyone knows who you belong to.’

you often wonder what the campus would think if they knew how debauched their star player really was.

they’d have a field day if they saw the texts yuuji sent you while wiping the floor with his teammates during practices. pictures of his erection in the changing room mirrors and maybe some of your pretty face while he had you cumming on just his tip. sometimes paragraphs detailing how he was going to ruin your pussy, make you see god or even reach cloud nine. some tell you how much itadori misses your plush lips wrapped around him as he cums down your throat.

but no matter what way you look at it, your jock boyfriend yuuji itadori always has your pleasure prioritised at the forefront of his mind. he’d use whatever part of his body, whatever strength he has to keep you satisfied. all alongside his insatiable appetite for you and only you.

#itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk thirsts #jujutsu kaisen thirst #itadori x you #⋆｡°✩ — jock bf!yuuji #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger #ghostqueues #angelshubnetwork

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catboyrome · 11 months

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i rly do wanna relisten to feel but the thought of having to hear mgk’s verse again makes me angry every time and then i dont do it

#.txt #i mean first of all he just sucks at rapping delivery is SOOOOO unbelievably bad.#but then on top of that!!!!! the lyrics had NO tie in to the rest of the song!!!!#it was a complete tonal shift from kellins part to his i mean it was a different song #it became generic white boy im rich im hot u dont even deserve me so how dare u blahblahblahhhhh #yes ik kellin is white. but. (excluding gossip) i generally enjoy his lyricism but this????????????????#i was like on the fence already but mgk came on talking abt some ‘u gunna leave ME?’ in that STUPID voice and i wanted to strangle him #and smack kellin upside the head 😭😭😭😭😭#look see this is why he said he dont like giving away parts no more lololol #from what i remember none of the features on that album were good

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natluvsleclerc · 17 days

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i can fix him (no really i can) — m.v.

The Tortured Drivers Department Series

pairing: fratboy!boxer!max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: you’re a bit too confident you can fix the stubborn boxer — max verstappen

warnings: angst, swearing, max being a stubborn lil bitch, dom!max?, and kissing

a/n: making a series called the tortured drivers department !!

—

never in my life did i think i would ever be watching an illegal boxing match, but here i am in this musty underground ring watching max beat the shit out of every opponent that dares to step foot in the ring.

"he is a beast out there!" charles yells to me over the roaring of the crowd, "i know, it's unbelievable!" i exclaim.

me and charles are standing in the front row, watching as another opponent steps in the ring. i bite on my fingers nervously watching as they circle eachother in the ring.

suddenly, the guy takes a swing at max, which max dodges and smirks devishly at his opponent.

"please tell me this is the last match." i ask charles and he nods his head yes. i sigh out in relief because i don't know how much longer i can continue to watch max’s life be in danger.

a gasp escapes me as i watch the opponent take a upper cut right into max's jaw. max stumbles backwards into the rope, gripping onto it as his opponent stands in the middle of the ring while the crowd goes crazy.

"that's the first time someone has laid a finger on max in months." charles confesses next to me, "oh my god, i don't think i can watch this anymore." i say before i turn around to walk out of the roaring arena.

charles didn't stop me and i'm glad he didn't. he knew this was my first time ever coming to a match and i worry too much about max to watch him get hurt without me running over to him.

running my hand over my face and sighing, i make my way into max's locker room, thankfully i remembered where it was. i throw my purse on the nearby bench and taking a seat. i put my head in my hands trying to even figure out why max wants to do any of this, putting his life into danger because it's fun? because he gets paid?

mine and max's relationship was weird. we weren't dating yet but we also weren't just friends. i think we both decided that we were together just no labels without confirming. me and max met outside of a bar a couple months ago when i found him slumped on the sidewalk, nose bleeding and a black eye forming. the caring person that i am, of course i went to go check on him, which then lead to where we are now.

i should have known the day i found him beat up that i was getting myself wrapped up in a troubled man, but i really couldn't help myself. today was the first time he invited me to one of his matches since i finally demanded answers from him of why he would always visit me with bloodied and bruised knuckles. i remember the night he explained everything to me.

taking me out of my thoughts, charles walks in the locker room, "i figured you would be in here. the match is over, max should be back here any minute."

"oh thank god, is he okay?" charles his head, "yes, he is all good and he won.” i sigh out in relief as the man himself walks in.

i jump up from the bench and rush over to him, throwing my arms around his neck, "i was worried sick about you!" maxs' arm wraps around my waist, squeezing me back.

"i'm alright, sweetheart." he says and lets go of me and tosses his gloves on the bench.

"is there a reason you're still lurking, charles?" i watch as charles eyes widen at max and mumbled out a 'sorry' as he walks out the locker room, leaving me and max alone.

max takes a seat on the bench and i hear him hiss out in pain. "max you really shouldn't be doing this anymore, i hate seeing you like this." i say as i walk over to him and slot my way in between his thighs.

"i get your concern, schat, but this is what i want to do." he huffs out, beginning to untape his bloodied knuckles, "here, let me."

i grab his hand gently and slowly unpeel the tape off, i feel max grip the back of my thighs, pulling me closer as he hisses out in pain.

"i know it hurts, im sorry." i try my best to comfort him as he winces in pain. it makes my heart ache seeing him in pain like this knowing this is what he likes to do.

"can you just- c'mere." he huffs out and pulls me down into his lap. my cheeks flushed at the action, "this is better. i like having you close." he murmurs to me as i begin to work on his other hand.

"i need to doctor your hands and then i need to check out your jaw." i tell him sternly and he grips my hips, "no, you don't need to do all that, you know i'm fine." i roll my eyes at him as i stand up from his lap, getting out of his grip.

"max, you need to take this serious. i'm tired of seeing your hands all beat up every week and seeing bruises on your body. charles told me tonight was the first night anyone has hit you in months. you always refuse to just let me help you and doctor up the cuts and i don't understand why, just let me fix you." i confess and he just sits there, eyes refusing to meet mine as i stand in front of him.

i reach out to grab his bloodied hand, "max, please? can you just listen-" he catches me off guard as he stands up quickly, now towering over me. his eyes bore into mine as his hand reaches up and grabs my jaw, he tilts my head up and whispers,

"i don't need fixing, sweetheart."

i reach up to grab his hand but i'm too late when he rips his hand away from my face, walking around me to the bathroom, leaving me standing alone.

"max, c'mon. don't be like this. i have yet to complain about you being too stubborn to let me help you but you can't just try to push me away now that i'm opening up about it. you know i just want to help." i say as i watch max yank his shirt over his head, "me? stubborn? no baby, i never asked for your help so i don't need it."

i cross my arms and audibly groan out in frustration. "are we seriously arguing over me being concerned for your well-being?"

i hear him chuckle as i watch his strip to his boxers, "who said we were arguing? why don't you come in here and let me fuck the frustration out of you?" he taunts me and i scoff at him.

"we aren't solving this with sex, max." he shrugs as i watch him strip his boxers off, smirking at me, "your loss, schat."

i roll my eyes as at him as he turns the shower on, stepping in.

"i'm just going to ask charles to take me home!" i exclaim but i hear max laugh, "your funny, he's already left. i'm your only ride unless you want to walk home." sitting back down on the bench, i face away from the open door of the bathroom and try to calm myself down while max showers.

what am i even doing? trying to fix a broken man? a man that refuses to recieve any form of help? a man that beats the shit out of others for money and because he likes it? what the actual hell am i doing.

"still mad at me?" i jump at the sound of his voice and how close it is. but i don't respond.

i stare at the ground as i can feel max walking over to stand in front of me.

"look at me." i snap my eyes up to meet his, refusing to look anywhere else even though his chest was twinkling in the light from the water.

"y'know i apprciate you, baby?" he questions me, "i feel like you don't, i just want to help you-"

"and i know you do, but you need to understand that i don't need help. there is no changing me. there is no fixing me, and that is something you need to get through that pretty head of yours if you want to be with me. got it?" i sigh out and stand up as max reaches out to me, grabbing my face in his big hands, "do you got it, leifje."

"yes." i say and he smiles at me, "that's my girl." patting my cheek, he pulls away and gets dressed. "now since we established there is no fixing one another, what do you think about being my girlfriend, hm?"

i stand there, frozen at his words, "girlfriend?" i repeat back and he hums. "me? you want me to be your girlfriend?" he laughs at my dumbfoundness and walks over to me, grabbing my waist as he sits down, pulling me into his lap.

"yes, you y/n, will you be a good girl and take the honors of being my girlfriend?" i cup his face in my hands and pull him in as we meet in a searing kiss.

"yes, i'll be your girlfriend, max." i whisper in the kiss and he smirks, pulling my hips closer, "and i will be your boyfriend."

meeting in another kiss, signifing our now relationship with labels, even though i couldn't fix him now, doesn't mean i won't stop trying in the future.

#nat writes #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #mv1 #mv1 x reader

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wakatshi · 2 years

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Heyyy daria, good morning !

(When I said I'd get into your inbox a day ago I missed my mark so now I'm one day late but I had to say good morning ok)

it’s not morning anymore but gm diana i hope you’re feeling better today i’m omw to give u kisses muah muah <333333

#unbelievable how dare u #u’re late i’m blocking u #😒😒😒😒#me seeing ur ask 12 hrs later #almost.

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jeonghantis · 1 year

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✧ — HEAVEN ANGEL (y.jh)

PAIRING ⇝ yoon jeonghan x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

beautiful, everyone had called you. the compliment lost its charm on you, knowing fully well it’s paid only for the surface-level appearance you kept up and nothing else you had to offer. irritating, he had called you. you let him fuck you.

TAGS ⇝ uni!au, fratboy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a dash of angst (oopsy!).

WARNINGS ⇝ language, fem!reader (she/her), houseparty scene (not exactly detailed), gossip, explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI!), bathroom (mirror) sex, unrequited crush (or is it?), reader has commitment issues, reader is kinda mean, mentions of p*ss and sh*t but not in a sexual manner, just for jokes.

WORD COUNT ⇝ 4.1k words.

note: funnily enough, i had two requests specifically for house party sex with yoon jeonghan. i lost the ask for them both (accidentally deleted while my laptop glitched). i am insane. and before anyone asks, yes there'll be a part two/prequel :) and also this is somewhat connected to my upcoming cheol fic. so i hope you stay tuned! proofread by the star of my life @cheolhub. sar fr put up with every version and my constant anxiety over every paragraph. i couldn't have done it without them. i love u so much. @szakias was also helpful in keeping me sane as i wrote this out 🙇 i love u so bad. loosely based on the song heaven angel by the driver era. don't think it'd go with the fic but you know :)

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated.

explicit tags under the cut.

EXPLICIT TAGS ⇝ semi-public setting (bathroom sex while there's a party), unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, dumbification, teasing, petnames (angel), degradation (whore, bitch), dacryphilia, marking, briefest thigh-fucking, clit stimulation, cumming inside, squirting, light overstimulation, (a little) aftercare.

A strange rumor went around the campus. A rumor of a person whose beauty was so out of this world that it was terrifying.

Unreal. Everyone had said. You won’t be able to look her in the eyes!

But beyond that angelic beauty was a personality so sour, no one dared thought to approach her. Those that tried their luck had it beaten right out of them and they came to hate her to hide their broken hearts.

What a bitch, they had said. Does she think she’s all that?

Yoon Jeonghan, for one, thought they were being overly dramatic. It was a strange and interesting phenomenon how gossip can evolve to add in such theatrics. It was like living in one of those regency novels his sister owned which he had perused over on one particularly boring day. Had these people really had nothing better to do with their lives? Were they trying to live in a novel of their own? Jeonghan never understood them, neither cared for these kinds of things. He’d much rather form his opinions. He had better things to do than to dabble in such frivolity.

What a stuck-up, one would say. What better things could Jeonghan be doing that puts him above everyone else?

Oh, fucking the subject of the rumors of course.

“How irritating,” Jeonghan sighed, abruptly ceasing his thrusts inside you to harshly yank you back by your hair.

You yelp, a deer in the headlights, when your neck is forcibly craned back, made to look up at his looming figure. You looked pathetic from where you were pinned against the wall, exposed breasts pressed flush against the cool tiles and your mini skirt flipped upwards to reveal the swell of your bare ass flattened against his hip bone.

“I said to keep your voice down,” he tuts. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer out, throat raw and chest heaving.

“Are you?” He mused with a raised brow, mocking and unbelieving.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, or at least you tried to. Jeonghan liked to make eye contact, he once told you, for he loved to see your sanity visibly ebb away from your eyes, leaving you a mindless, glassy-eyed whore. You had not reached that stage, not yet, not when some semblance of your being remained clear in your gaze, dilated pupils fearfully wavering back and forth between his simpering face and the bathroom door where a rather large, booming frat party laid beyond.

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his grip on your hair, forcing your eyes back on him. He leaned forward until he’s breathing your air, and all you could do is stare up at him pitifully with quivering lips. “Or…” he starts, his lips twisting cruelly. “Do you want them to hear you? Want them hear how good you’re being fucked right now?”

You remain silent, the lump on your throat bobbing as you swallow hard. But your walls tighten around him and Jeonghan couldn’t help the curve of his lips.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Jeonghan sighed, releasing his hold on you. A lithe finger curls a lock behind your ear, the gesture jarringly affectionate from his prior cruelty, before his mouth moves to hover over it, his warm breath tickling. “You moan loudly when I tell you to shut up. You shut up when I ask you questions. Have I fucked you stupid already? Or have you always been stupid?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you know what to say?” Jeonghan laughs. “A renowned bitch, known to reject her admirers without so much of a second thought, now reduced into this pathetic bitch in heat. What would everyone else think, hm?”

His derogatory spats clamored down to your bones, making you shake with emotions that you couldn’t quite place with your hazed mind. At one point, with the last bit of pride you had left, you’re irritated, and it’s shown in the twitch of your eye and narrowed gaze. Then there’s embarrassment, shown by how your face warms and flushes. There was no denying how fucking dazed and desperate you had been, that much was true, and the demeaning tone of his voice did its job of filling you with shame. The twisted part of it all is that you enjoyed every minute of this ridicule thanks to pure, carnal desire. You couldn’t care less about what other people would say about you, what matters now is when the fuck would Jeonghan move his dick inside you.

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he wanted his answers. His last question was rhetoric. You knew. He knew. And yet he looks down at you with cruel expectancy masked in the sweetest, angelic smile that has fooled so many, and had once fooled you.

“I-I don’t care,” you say, deciding to be honest. “Who the fuck cares what they think?”

“Oh, but I’d like to know,” Jeonghan said. He hums for a moment, looking you over in consideration, before speaking again. “But you’re right. They don’t matter right now, do they?”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

And Jeonghan watched, amused. He wasn’t done speaking. “But I’d at least like to know what you think.”

You blinked. “What?”

Before you could question him some more, Jeonghan pulls out of you, leaving your weeping cunt fluttering around nothing. You cry out, high and broken, from having pleasure ripped away with such cruelty. Jeonghan ignores it and his own throbbing problem as he goes to peel you off the wall with a rough tug on your arm. He has you by over the sink, has you staring at yourself through the vanity mirror. Jeonghan casts a smile at you through the reflection, his gaze weighted as he drinks in the sight of you as well.

Jeonghan had to admit, the rumors weren’t all baseless. You were stunningly beautiful, there was no denying that when anyone with functioning eyes could see it. The way you carried yourself tells him you’re well aware of it too. You held confidence with a raised chin, an allure with your own posture and stance even in this vulnerable position you were forced in, looking as disheveled as you are with tufts of your hair sticking out in every direction, framing your flushed face. Your blouse had been carefully unbuttoned despite how desperately urgent you both had been for each other the moment the bathroom door shut closed, but the rush was evident in how your bralette had been roughly tugged down enough for your perked breasts to spill over. Jeonghan had been anything but kind to your skin, having left angry red splotches blossoming all over your chest; you weren’t either on his, knowing if Jeonghan had craned his neck enough from behind you, they’d find similar markings on his throat, though considerably less in quantity.

Jeonghan also looked considerably less damning. He had not made moves to remove any of his upper clothing and so he remained presentable with his black varsity over a loose white shirt. Even his long hair had not looked loosened from where it’s tied up. But below, away from the mirror’s sight, his dark jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped for his curved dick to spring out freely, for it now to rub over your ass teasingly.

“So?” Jeonghan asks. “What do you think of yourself?”

You glare at him through the mirror. “Fucking awful.”

“Of course you’d see it that way,” he laughs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “For me, I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

It’s your turn to look unbelieving, but your pulse rouses.

Jeonghan grinned. “Ask me why.”

You reluctantly indulge him, “Why?”

“Because you finally look fucking awful,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. You turn to glower at him but stop when he lifts a hand to trace a line over your chest, mapping out the marks adorning you with a nimble finger. “And because I’m the reason for it.”

“A little vain, don’t you think?” You remark, albeit breathily, your face heated.

“I can be proud of my work,” he quipped, pressing his smile against your skin. He looks you over once more, taking in every detail down to the last freckle, and something deep in him thrums sweetly. “And I had a beautiful canvas to begin with.”

“How charming,” you sighed, derisive, as you threw your head back against his shoulder so you could look at him with batting lashes. “Can you fuck me now?”

“But I mean it,” Jeonghan murmured and relented, reaching around you so he could press a roughened finger over your swollen clit.

“Mean what?” You ask, but you’re barely listening, not when your focus is narrowed to the deft circles he’s making on your sweet nerves.

Jeonghan guides his length between your thighs, letting it glide languidly right under your weeping and throbbing cunt at a lazy pace. His lips are still curled, his eyes bright when he gazes down at you before he’s responding, “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Sincerity was not something you’re used to when it came to the ever sarcastic Yoon Jeonghan, and yet here it was, bleeding into his tone in its purest form. Never in the entire three months of sleeping with him had he ever complimented the way he had just now, and if he had uttered any, it was quickly followed with ridicule or said with ridicule.

Good, he called you when you were obedient.

Cute, he called you when you were crying.

Beautiful. It was new. From him at least.

It was a temporary moment of clarity in your lust-addled head as you blink at him, making sense of what he had said, making sense of the warmth that starts to bloom throughout your chest. And temporary it remained as Jeonghan led his cockhead right back to your entrance, pushing himself in without so much of a warning, and the bare grasp you had on lucidity loosened.

You gasp out loudly, doubling over the bathroom counter as your walls tense and quiver painfully from the sudden breach, but still yield around him nonetheless. Jeonghan was quick to catch you, to force you right back up with his long fingers encircling your throat.

“Again?” Jeonghan barked out a laugh but it’s hoarse. “You really want everyone to hear you.”

“I c-can’t help it,” you whined, your head resting weakly against his shoulder, warm breath puffing over his marred skin.

Jeonghan looked unimpressed. “Well, help it.”

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when he starts driving into you with no sense of leniency, your body thrown fully forward and voice shaking from the repeated impact that clatters your bones.

“You’re horrible at this,” he cackled. He grips at your hips this time, pulling you hard against him, balls slapping heavily against your ass. He's practically pulling and pushing your cunt onto his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve for him to enjoy. Each decadent slide of his length in your heat draws out breathy grunts from him, his head drunk with pleasure.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head is thrown back to reveal flushed skin stained with tears that drip from closed eyes as you try desperately to hold yourself up with palms flat against the cold marble counter. There was nothing else for you to do but feel it, feel his cock stretch your pussy, its silken insides practically making way for him with each piston that has you crying out more in volume and pitch.

“Open your eyes.” His hot, staggered breath wafted over your ear. His thrusts ease its pace, slowing into something more languorous and teasing. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

You whine but your eyelids flutter open. Glassy, unfocused eyes find Jeonghan.

A devious smile splinters across his face.

There you are.

“Please,” you whimper, your hand reaching to paw at his nape.

“What is it, angel?” His tone is sweet but it rolls off his tongue sharply. “I n-need - ”

Jeonghan laughed cruelly. “I don’t think you’re in the position to demand something from me when you can’t even listen to my one demand.”

You grab at the ends of his hair and rock your hips back into him, fucking your cunt right on his dick in a faster, but struggling, rhythm.

“Hannie,” you mewl. “You feel too good. Please, please, just fuck me. I can’t help it, I just - Please? I’ll b-be good. Just please fuck me, Hannie.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away to your pleas, allowing himself to revel in the broken desperation you display with an amused smile and delighted throbs made inside your velvety walls. Perhaps Jeonghan should be used to this sight now. He’s seen you in much messier and miserable states, ruined you far worse than he had now. And yet he’s plenty invigorated than he’s ever been, pure excitement searing his veins.

What would everyone else think, hm?

Jeonghan thought it was rhetoric. Jeonghan said it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t. It did.

“I don’t think you can be good,” he began as a hand inches forward between your legs, “But if you’re going to be loud, then at least use my name. That way, everyone will know who’s fucking you so good.”

“H-Hannie!” You mewl, oh so pitchy, as your frame jerks from the brush of the roughened pads of his fingers on your clit, pleasure flickering up your abdomen so wildly that you could not easily bear through it.

“There we go,” he crooned, pride gleaming in his eyes. Jeonghan was much too familiar with your body by now, so it’s easy when his hips brings back its pace, fucking at your insides at an angle so the length of him glides over your sweet nerves with each impact.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob out like a mantra, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his brutality, your channel tightening around his throbbing girth. “Ngh, Jeonghan, right there! Oh my god - !”

The nectar that leaks out of you coated his shaft with an amazingly significant amount that makes the slides so much easier and louder, the wet noises bouncing off the four walls and meshing with your own cries of his name like he wanted. It was almost enough to drown out the muffled music of the party that seemed many worlds away now.

Jeonghan soon enough joined in this sinful chorus, letting out panted moans of his own. Some were incoherent but when it wasn’t, it was mostly your name, just in case everyone couldn’t tell who was screaming his name like a wailing prayer. How he’s managed to keep himself restrained and sane for this long was a strong feat in itself. Your everything put him in a trance, every touch of you—nails, fingers, and obviously your tight cunt, was a little too much, it was dizzying.

Even at your seemingly waning state, your hips somehow finds itself moving back against him, undulating with the same force and rhythm. You’re driven by the tightness both in your chest and in your abdomen, white flashing across your vision the more you keep up your pace, your moan becoming more muddled as your thoughts were. And when balance fails you, having you bow back down and lean all your weight on your forearm, Jeonghan inclines with you, his chest pressed right against your back and you could feel his raging heartbeat that very well matched your own.

“How are you holding up, angel?” He chuckled and pressed his face against your neck, his breathing hard and warm on your skin, as his thrusts become more shallow. “Doing okay?”

“I-I’m close,” you whimper. “Please, Hannie - ”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered back as nails dig crescents on your waist, muscles flexing as the intensity of his strokes inside you extends once again and remains at the same tempo. He doesn’t know what came over him the next moment, his senses just completely overtaken and all he could do was be at awe at all this perfect bliss you’re bringing him, and only him. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathed. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for everyone, angel, you understand that? You’re mine.”

There it was again. The clarity. The warmth. It all happened in a single moment.

You turn your head and stare up at him. Jeonghan stared right back at you. A completely indecipherable expression confronts another.

Where it had been temporary then, it intensified now. Where there had been questions, suspicions took its place.

Then came fear.

Jeonghan catches a glimpse of it in your eyes and for the very first time, his stomach sank at the sight of it.

But his facade is flawless. It comes too naturally before he’s fully aware—a sweet curl of lip, the faintest crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He’s fooled too many. He could fool you again.

Jeonghan takes advantage of your moment of daze to toy once again with your clit, and is relieved at how immediate your body reacts.

“Ngh, J-Jeonghan!” You keen high as you reach a hand to cup over to where his fingers flicks and pinches at the delicate bud, pressing down on him for added pressure to alleviate your own self. Oh, how embarrassingly easy it was for your thoughts to be completely overwritten by your own lustful desires, but as you have learned, it always prevails, doesn’t it?

Your thighs seize up from the overwhelming pleasure crawling up your spine; while your rhythm falters from it, Jeonghan’s is relentless even when his own breathing turned ragged and his body strained from the effort. It all becomes so much so fast; the feverish heat spreads under your skin, tightening up coils in your abdomen, but your frame is trembling, as if a chill settled so deeply into your bones.

“Hannie, Hannie, I’m going to -”

“I know,” Jeonghan grunts as his face falls in the juncture of your neck, lips pressed right over your pulse point. He can feel your walls start to restrict around his twitching girth, and it did little to aid his own self-control. “Let go for me, angel. C’mon. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.”

And you do. With the most shrilling wail, you come, your warm release spilling onto his cock and, much to your surprise, squirting onto themselves, their clothes, and his hand.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan marveled under his breath. If he could burn a memory into his brain, this would be fucking it. Just you shivering and quivering around his dick. Your back prettily arched back with tits hardened and perked. The fluids spurting all over yourself and him so shamelessly and so intensely until you're convulsing back down on your front from it all.

Watching this whole brilliance of you, just reminded Jeonghan of how lucky he truly was to have you like this, to be able to make you this fucked out with crossed eyes, pupils blown wide out of proportion. Hidden concerns were washed away by this single glance, replaced with nothing but gratitude, pride, and true bliss. And with all that and a poorly thrown out warning, he’s thrown over the edge. A moan is punched out of his gut as he’s releasing inside you with one last valiant thrust, his cum white and hot as it spurts and paints your walls.

And poor you having to tolerate this continued abuse of your insides that pushes you close into the sphere of overstimulation. You’re spent, fatigue already ebbing into your consciousness, but you stay still for him, letting him use you for all your worth until the last few twitches of cock, until the last few spews of his cum is fucked back into you.

For the next few moments, only a dulled bass fills the air as two heaving bodies try to steady themselves. When the remnants of carnality wane, Jeonghan finally pulls out of you, your channel left with nothing but their shared release dripping out of you, beading down your legs. There’s a crack of a smile thrown your way through the reflection just as you feel a light tap made over your cunt. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the gesture. And to rock back into it.

“If I clean you up,” Jeonghan began, eyeing the puddle on the floor, “could you help me with the rest of your mess?”

Now you did roll your eyes. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Hey, I just thought I should ask. It’s a lot.”

Your face warmed up. “Forget it, I’ll clean myself up. You clean the floor.” You move to lift yourself up from the counter, but catch yourself as your muscles start to strain, limbs shaking.

Jeonghan raised a brow.

You winced. “Can you help me over to the toilet?”

“Need to piss it all out again?” He jests and takes a hold of your arm to gently pick you up.

You sneered. “That wasn’t piss, asshat.”

Jeonghan laughed. “I know it wasn’t. But it was hot as hell.”

“Shut the hell up.”

That only made him laugh again.

Then came a knock, a very aggressive one.

“Yoon Jeonghan, are you done fucking in there?” Said a male voice beyond the door, sounding just as irritated as his knock was.

“Ah, damn,” Jeonghan muttered quietly to himself, then raised his voice at the door, “There are other bathrooms, Cheol!”

Choi Seungcheol, you now recognized Jeonghan’s fellow frat brother, responded right away. “All occupied! Can you hurry your shit up?”

“No!” said Jeonghan, but he’s quick to guide you over next to the toilet with an arm now encircling your waist; you tell yourself this was just a helpful gesture, but there’s no helping how your skin heats up under his touch. From where you stand leaning against the wall, you watch him rush around the bathroom, first cleaning himself up and shoving his dick back in his jeans before he throws a clean towel down on the floor to soak up your mess.

“I’ll leave first,” Jeonghan explained as he sauntered back to you with soap and another fresh towel in hand, setting them down where it’s within your reach. “I’ll appease Cheol first and buy you some time to clean up.”

“Is he always so impatient?” You asked.

“Always,” he sighed, “but once I explain, he’ll understand. I don’t know why he’s fussier than usual though.”

“Maybe he needs to shit.”

“Shitting at a party? That’s disgusting of him.”

“He has no respect for the partygoers out there.”

You exchange grins with each other.

Then another round of knocking came around.

“In a minute!” Jeonghan called back, trying to sound calm but his face was scowling. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you again, “Are you sure you don’t want any help? Now I just want to make him wait.”

“Go,” you tell him and wave him off. “He sounds like he’s about to kick the door open. I’d rather not have that.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Jeonghan turned to leave. Your heart lurched from your chest.

“Jeonghan?” You call out before you could stop yourself.

He looked back. “Hm?”

“Do we…” You didn’t know what to say, how to phrase it. “Should we talk about it?”

It was miniscule, but you caught his wince. “Talk about what?”

“About what you said?”

“Angel, I said a lot of things.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You said - ”

Another loud knock, quickly followed by Seungcheol yelling. “Jeonghan! Hurry up!”

Jeonghan let out another sigh, a mix of annoyance with a tinge of relief. “We’ll have to talk about it another time.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jeonghan - ”

“We will talk about it,” he said firmly, his tone spoke of sincerity, but his face said otherwise. “Just not now. Not yet.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

He tried for a smile, perfectly saccharine. You saw right through it.

“Fine,” you relented.

Jeonghan gave you a grateful nod of his head and made a move to leave again. You watch again with the strangest restriction in your chest.

“Cheol, you have got to learn patience,” Jeonghan said once he cracked the door open.

“And you have got to learn to be quiet,” the disembodied voice of Seungcheol parried back. “I’m sure the people passing the hallway could hear you both.”

“Well, we were trying to get the whole house to hear us.” Jeonghan spared a quick glance your way and grinned. You wanted to punch his teeth in.

Seungcheol groaned. “Of course you fucking were.”

Jeonghan laughed and finally stepped out of the bathroom. “At least I’m getting my dick wet. You haven’t been with anyone since - Oh, I spoke too soon. Cheol, you sneaky son of a - ”

The door shut closed behind him, leaving you all alone, and you buried your face in your hands.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfic #keir.rqst

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byhees · 4 months

Text

when you’re insecure about your smile.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship kissing petnames mention of insecurity — more

a/n. requested— because the poll showed that u all would like more reactions ! ♡

heeseung would feel his heart drop; the way you’d often snap your head to the opposite side whenever you’d smile, strikes him as unusual— it’s as though he’s never able to catch a glimpse of your pretty grin; wouldn’t point it out directly, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable— would instead sneakily engulf you in tight embraces, making it difficult for you to conceal your little smiles whenever he cracks up silly jokes in hopes of making you laugh…

jay would feel his entire world crumble; his daily serotonin boost would be to see your pretty smile, to see the precious way the corners of your lips would curl upwards in the wake of a grin, eyes crinkling to resemble small crescents— and now that you’re deliberately hiding such a beautiful sight from him, he feels the need to reassure you of just how ethereal said smile is— “baby, your smile is so, so pretty. please, don’t ever feel that way about yourself”, he’d say, peppering kisses all over your face…

jake would be visibly shocked upon realising the pattern of you turning away from his direction whilst breaking into a smile— it’s done with such an intent, it’s almost certain to him that you’re purposely trying to hide your stunning grin; wouldn’t hesitate to burst into a series of cute poses and little ridiculous dances in hopes of eliciting a giggle from you— “ah! there’s that beautiful smile!” he’d say, cupping your cheeks in his palms, admiring the way your smile’s glued onto your face, complimenting your every feature…

sunghoon would be flabbergasted beyond belief— the mere thought of you finding your smile unpleasant to look at, strikes him as unbelievable in all the many ways; you couldn’t be more wrong— your smile’s just the definition of perfection, it’s the first thing that he wishes to see every morning, it’s the first thing that he looks forward to catching a glimpse of during arduous days; that’s the beauty of your smile. would try his very best to make you laugh— be it through breaking out into a random tiktok dance, or through horribly-timed jokes…

sunoo would break into the deepest of frowns after finding out about your hidden insecurities about your smile; wants you to know that your smile is, single-handedly, one of the prettiest and most breathtaking things that he’s ever seen in his lifetime. would feign the biggest of pouts when you ever mention how “ugly” your smile is— “baby, love, sweetheart— don’t say that.. you’re so, so beautiful, and so is that little grin of yours”, he’d say before pressing kisses onto the surface of your face…

jungwon wouldn’t waste a second to let you know just how pretty your smile is; would try his very best to elicit even the smallest of grins from you— would even tickle you whilst cuddling in bed, adoring the soft laughs that slip past your lips, the wide smile that’d find itself on your face; would playfully tease you, wanting to elicit that pretty, shy smile of yours— leans in with an intent to kiss you, only to pull away centimetres away, leaving your cheeks flushed pink, a bashful grin naturally spreading across your face; “you look the prettiest when you’re happy, princess”, he’d coo, pressing a kiss onto your forehead…

riki would be in pure disbelief; he merely can’t comprehend how you’d find that precious smile of yours, unpleasant— if anything, it’s the very, very, very opposite of that; “don’t you dare hide that pretty smile from me”, he’d say, lips jutting out in a very non-intimidating pout, arms crossing over his chest; and the mere image of him acting all adorable has you grinning on your own— little did you know, it was his plan to pull out the cutesy act; after all, he’d do practically anything and everything to see that beautiful grin of yours…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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diorsluv · 5 months

Text

feather , part 14

“ i feel so much lighter, like a feather ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, rutgermcgroarty, jamie.drysdale, and 58,100 others

yourusername so i went to the mall w eddy and mackie and NO ONE TOLD ME THERES TARGET IN MALLS NOW???

tagged: mackie.samo

view all comments

username87 sweetie there’s always been targets in malls

→ yourusername SINCE WHEN TF

_alexturcotte yooo did you buy the teddy bear??

→ yourusername no ethan said there would be no room for it in the car when we drive home 😔

→ _alexturcotte ah damn i was gonna steal it from you

username35 omg they went into one of the expensive clothes stores

username28 if they wore that and tried to break into my house honestly i’d let them

→ username7 FRRRR

edwards.73 you were skipping through the aisles as soon as we walked into target

→ mackie.samo fr we had to pretend like we didn’t know you

→ yourusername i hate you both

jamie.drysdale you know i can see your credit card history right

→ yourusername UHHHHH MOM SAID NO ONE COULD SEE IT BUT ME

→ jamie.drysdale she lied to you

→ trevorzegras whats she been buying 👀

→ jamie.drysdale a 50 pack of takis, 4 squishmallows and way too many kids toys

→ yourusername I BOUGHT ONE CONTAINER OF SLIME. ONE. jamie.drysdale

lhughes_06 should’ve brought me, i would’ve paid for u

→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’d feel bad 😭

→ colecaufield you are insanely dense lil drizzy

username94 it’s so endearing how they’re having so much fun together

jackhughes maybe i should’ve gone with you

→ yourusername no i would’ve had 10x less fun if you came with

→ jackhughes ok buddy 😐😐

bookerburke_ i’ll take you to every mall with a target in it as soon as you get back

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, luca.fantilli, trevorzegras, and 99,837 others

yourusername i’m never playing val with these idiots ever again oh my god like THE LACK OF ASSISTS WAS UNBELIEVABLE

view all comments

markestapa the only reason u could even play valorant was bc i let u use my pc so be quiet

→ yourusername yeah and i got you to gold 3

→ markestapa I WAS AT PLAT 2

→ yourusername YOU MADE ME PLAY ON UR UNRANKED ACCOUNT DUMMY

→ markestapa oh um well IT’S NOT RADIANT SOOOO

rutgermcgroarty such a gamer girl

→ yourusername never say that again i’m begging you

username80 i don’t understand anything but yessss!!

→ username47 fr at this point im jus faking it all

dylanduke25 okay well the rest of us were playing on our laptops

→ yourusername marks pc was laggier than ur laptops 🙄🙄

→ markestapa MY LAG WAS SKYROCKETING

trevorzegras play val with me rn i dare you

→ yourusername okay mr “i dropped from gold to bronze”

→ trevorzegras hey don’t expose me like that 😕

username37 what is this gold, bronze, plat speak i don’t get it

_quinnhughes oh so thats what all that yelling was

→ jackhughes i heard her from down the street

→ _quinnhughes “MOVE MOVE MOVE YOU DUMBASSES”

→ yourusername 🙍‍♂️🙍‍♂️🔫🙃

bookerburke_ i’ve never played this game before, only cod and overwatch so i dont get the lingo 😭

→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’ll explain it to you 🤗🤗

→ username82 the “lingo” 😭😭

edwards.73 i didn’t do THAT bad

→ mackie.samo liar i was looking at your screen the whole time

→ lhughes_06 dude you were dead weight

→ yourusername my kda was 5/0/0 and urs was 0/5/0 we are NOT the same ❌

next chapter notes ) i actually have a grudge against all val players and they all frustrate me to no end (I NEVER GET FUCKING ASSISTS) anywayyy i hope u enjoyed this and im getting back on the grind i promise 🤍🤍

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa #dylan duke #ethan edwards #luca fantilli #adam fantilli #rutger mcgroarty

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ilsanslut · 10 months

Note

Can i please request some jealousy headcanons for Kaiser and shido with a female s!o? Smutty too if that's alright.Thank you!

꒷♡꒷ GREEN-EYED GAZE!

♰ featuring: michael kaiser + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: VAMPIIE WRITE UNDER 1.5K WORDS CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE). i got carried away making the headcanons and decided to write blurbs to go alongside them but they are both LITERALLY the length of fics.... ANYWAY ryusei’s section may or may not be based off of my interactions with my jealous!ryusei shidou bot teehee. yall know how i already feel about him in ANY type of situation, but adding a jealous michael on top of that??? . . . yall hear something purring or is it just me—

sypnosis: hey siri play jealousy by monsta x! wc: 4.9k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI. jealous!ryusei. jealous!michael. possessive!michael. possessive!ryusei. mean!ryusei. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. big dick!michael agenda! tummy bulging. locker room sex (michael). dacryphilia (ryusei). Tit-slapping (ryusei). spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. dirty talking (ryu likes to call u mean names when he's horny). groping. hair pulling. sweet n vulnerable ryusei at the end :((. ꒷꒦

MICHAEL KAISER

❥ it should be noted that Michael is not prone to becoming envious. i mean, why should he? he’s handsome, wealthy, extraordinarily skilled at football, and he has you as his beloved girlfriend that he loves to show off. what more could he ask for? in fact, one might contend that he was the target of envy more than anyone else. ❥ at least, that’s what he thought until he noticed you talking with his teammate and sworn rival, isagi yoichi at one of their games. ❥ it wasn’t like he was afraid that the inferior little shit was going to take you away from him. on the contrary, michael could not even begin to describe the sensation of emotions he was experiencing within. it was as if a tumultuous storm of emotions raged inside of him, ones he could not quite pin down. ❥ hatred directed at Isagi? betrayal at the fact that you would so openly talk and dare to laugh with his rival when he was right here? angry that if he spoke about it right then, he would come off as a cowardly fool who lacks self-confidence? ❥ he’s deathly silent, menacingly brooding, and unbelievably furious. he couldn’t help but enviously glower at the two of you with so much intensity that it was a miracle that you didn’t have a hole lasered into your back. ❥ but he could not just idly stand by and do nothing, especially after that little shitstain dared to touch your shoulder. that was his last straw.

“K-Kaiser . . .” Ness' voice jolted him out of his reverie, and the innocent brunette unintentionally fell prey to one of Michael's infamous death glares.

Alexis tried his hardest not to flinch in the face of such wrath, but it was nearly impossible. Instead, he quickly averted his gaze, fearful of further infuriating his King, and motioned to the water bottle in Michael's hand, which had been unknowingly clenched so tightly that the cap had long since burst free, drenching his fist and shorts. Michael clicked his tongue, dropping the poor bottle to the grassy field, his deadly gaze returning to you and Isagi, now laughing about something else that he could not hear because he was too far away. Without saying a word, he extended his hand to Alexis, who hastily used his handkerchief to dry the wet skin.

“. . . I noticed them too.” Alexis murmured quietly, glancing briefly in the direction that Michael was glowering, but not for long since he knew not to look at you without his permission. However, it was at that precise second that he saw Isagi brush something off of your shoulder, which caused his breath to hitch and Michael's murderous aura to flare with ferocity.

“—He’s dead.” Your lover snarled, snatching his hand away from Ness and marching right over to where the two of you stood.

You were not aware of Michael's impending form, but Isagi was made very aware when his eyes met the ace’s murderous ones that were fixed solely on his form. When you noticed the striker's sudden silence, you turned to see what he was looking at, but before you could, you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you into an equally strong body. With the scent of expensive cologne and the familiarity of the rose-thorn tattoo wrapping around his forearm, you knew immediately that it was your boyfriend. Oblivious to the silent staredown between your lover and his rival, you continued to babble innocently.

“Oh hi, love! I was wondering where you were.” You commented, craning your neck up so that you could look at him. He would meet your gaze with a tight, unassuming smile on his lips, always a master of emotional disguise. The fire in his eyes, on the other hand, was undeniable. His smile was like a mask, meticulously crafted to conceal his true emotions, but it had begun to crack. You were no idiot. You could tell that he was upset. At what? You didn’t know.

“ . . . Were you now, liebchen?” You could not unhear the underlying malice that tainted his words, no matter how warm he tried to make his tone, nor could you ignore the cat-like narrowing of his eyes.

“Mhm! I was meaning to come back to you when Isagi and I started talking about ‘My Neighbor Toroto’, the Studio Ghibli movie!”

A stupid-looking movie. One that you still had yet to watch with Michael since every time you tried, he dismissed it with the notion of it appearing too childish for his tastes.

“Who knew that we had such similar tastes?!” You giggled as you turned to look back at Isagi, with Michael taking the opportunity to continue his malicious staredown at the striker. This time, he rested his head on top of your chin to prevent you from catching him.

“ . . . It that so?” His tone was grave, and his words were accentuated with a firm squeeze of your shoulders.

An awkward silence would ensue as neither man uttered a word, seemingly attempting to assert dominance over the other through mere looks alone, until it was abruptly broken by Raichi summoning Isagi. Once he was gone, you had little time to react as Michael's grip would release your shoulders, instead seizing your wrist to tug you along until the two of you were off the field and into the rest of the stadium.

“M-Michael?! What are you—”

“—Shut up.”

His tone was curt—rude—something that told you he demanded absolute silence, and you listened. There was hardly anyone on the way to the locker room since everyone had already filed into the arena and into their seats, and both teams had already taken the field. Once there, Michael dragged you inside, locked the door, and shoved your back against a locker’s steely face. In an instant, he was leaning over you, his forearm resting above your head while his other hand cupped your jaw, deft fingertips squeezing your cheeks as he forced his lips onto yours. It was passionate, possessive, and, above all, dominant, as if he refused to be opposed—as if he were trying to completely and irreparably erase Isagi’s name from your tongue. You adored it; his kingly persona was one of your favorite aspects of him. It was more reminiscent of his behavior on the field than anything else.

“Don’t ever look at him again.” He would mutter breathlessly against your lips, pulling away so that he could peer into your eyes—deep oceanics, half-lidded. His fingers squeezed your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. Using this grip, he shook your head gently back and forth, relishing in the way your pretty eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. “Do you understand me, liebling?”

You nodded, your eyes wide and doe-like, just the way he liked them. A wolfish grin overtook his features, tapping your cheek twice with the hand that previously held you taut, “Good. Girl.” Both words were pronounced with a tap.

His lips were back on you, this time on the cheek he had lightly slapped. Soft brims kissed hot trails down your neck, becoming sloppy and possessive with each passing second. Sharp incisors and pointed canines would attack the sensitive flesh by the time he reached your collarbone, gnawing, lapping, and sucking at your delicate skin until he left deep marks and you mewling in his wake. Your digits went to grab his blonde tresses, threading your fingers through the soft strands, when his hand came to your wrist, snapping on the joint and pinning it beside your head against the locker.

The silent command was straightforward. Don’t touch him. This was a punishment.

Pulling away momentarily, he admired his handiwork. Your previously subtle flesh was now ridden with purplish and red blotches—some lined with teeth marks—all over your exposed neck and collarbones. You could not possibly hide them, especially since the two of you were now in public and all of your makeup had been left at home. Smirking triumphantly, he grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you around, pressing your chest and cheek against the smooth steel. It was at that moment that you caught the nameplate that was etched onto the locker: Isagi Yoichi.

Michael seemed to notice your realization, chuckling to himself as he flipped your skirt up above your ass, bringing his hand down on both of your cheeks once and then twice, making you croon each time. He ripped your panties down your thighs until they pooled around the backs of your knees, all the while reaching beneath his boxers and shorts to pull out his cock, which was already hard and tip drooling with pre. He wasted no time lining his cock up with your soft folds, pushing into you in one single, hard thrust that had your knees going weak and you nearly sobbing from the immense pleasure. He kept you steady by grabbing your bicep from behind, using his weight to press you against the locker.

“You feel it, don’t you, liebchen?” He grunted, thrusting shallowly and languidly against you as though he were trying to fit every inch and then some into you. “Feel how deep I am in this tight cunt? My pretty little pussy? Hm?” His other hand wrapped around your front, pressing right against your womb as his thrusts grew deeper—longer. Each drag of his cock along your walls was tantalizing, leaving you a whimpering, drooling mess. You could feel him in your tummy, your slightly chubby pocket of flesh on your lower abdomen pressing into his palm. His thrusts grew faster and more ravenous as they began to mimic the fire that had previously been ignited in him only moments prior on the field. It was almost as if he were trying to get you to feel how you made him feel—what you did to him to make him just so fucking crazy for you—and you did. Loud and clear.

Your voice echoed off the locker room's concrete walls like a mesmerizing siren's song, only for his ears to hear. Moans of pleasure, pleas for more, his balls slapping your clit, and your ass bouncing off his hips—it was all too much for you.

“M-Micha, I-I can’t! Too much, plea— AHN~! —please slow down!”

Your cries went unheeded; if anything, they seemed to fuel him to pummel your poor little pussy even harder, ramming you against the locker at an unforgiving pace. He used the arm he held in a vice grip as leverage, pounding into you like a battering ram at a pace that made your brain go numb and your body clench around him as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“You can and you will. No one could ever make you feel this good, could they? Hit that sweet—” He paused, hips stuttering, as he delivered a particularly rough and targeted thrust to the squishiest part of your walls, causing knees to buckle beneath you and cunt to gush around him. “—There it fucking is. Hit that sweet, sweet spot inside of you like I can, huh?”

“N-No! No one–mphf! No one but you, Micha!”

“Not even Isagi?”

“G-God, not even him!”

“Goddamn right, meine königin.”

You would finally come apart against the lockers as Michael let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. One thing about Michael is that when he came, he came a lot. Every time, without fail, thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum invade your womb and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy too. It was a miracle you had not gotten pregnant by now, given how much he would pump into you.

Even now, as he pulled out of you, thick globs of his white release would leak from your sopping cunt. However, before a single drop could spill to the floor, he moved to grab your panties, which were around your ankles, and pull them back into position to stop any more from escaping.

His hold on you would soften as he became aware that you were still frail from your adventures. He would tenderly spin you around so that his lips would again touch yours, this time more tenderly. Unfortunately, Ness's familiar voice calling you both—more specifically, Kaiser—through the door interrupted your enjoyment of the moment. You knew he had heard what had happened between the two of you—possibly even more—due to the stutter in his voice.

“Uh, a-are you two done in there? Kaiser, the game is going to start soon, and Noel is going to put that Hirori kid in your place if you aren’t on the field in the next two minutes.”

“The hell he will.” Michael grumbled against your lips, placing another quick peck on them before he finally pulled away.

“Duty calls, emperor.” You teased him, lightly pushing at his chest.

He caught your wrist and pulled you into him in a way that always made butterflies arise in your tummy. “Are you coming out there with me, dear?” It was clear from your quivering and unsteady legs that you weren’t going to be able to do any type of walking any time soon.

“Ah, such a hassle.” He commented playfully, scooping you up into his chest, bridal style. “The things you do to me~.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI

❥ this is ryusei we’re talking about here. the same man who’s not afraid to set someone on fire if they even so much as look at you. it should come as no surprise to anyone that he gets jealous easily. that being said, he’d never be one to admit it. instead, his jealousy presents itself in the form of possessiveness and protection. after all, you're his, and you know you’re his. ❥ think of him as a protective doberman, a perfect guard dog. if anyone, more specifically, a man gets too close to you, ryu will loom over you and all but glower, snarl, and howl curses his way until the male gets the hint or has his neck stomped on. ❥ you could not count the number of times you had to physically restrain him from knocking someone’s lights out, especially after that one foreigner asked you for directions and ryusei responded by grabbing him by the collar, strangling him, and barking at him to "get lost." ❥ oh and god forbid anyone dares to flirt with you. you’d need the strength of jesus and all of his disciples just to keep your murderous boyfriend at bay—even then, it might not be enough. ❥ it’s never immediate, though; it takes a minute for it to click in his head what’s going on. moreso, a moment of “is bro serious right now?”. when these moments occur, for once in his life, he’s silent. he looks between you and the fucker who has the audacity to approach you, his eyes narrowed in a glare promising lethality. it almost seems as though he is testing the waters to see if you will speak first or if he will have to. in the end, though, it’s always him. ❥ so what could possibly go wrong when he brings you to his u-20 team banquet?

Angry does not even begin to describe Ryusei's current state of mind. He was enraged—furious, even—by the events that had occurred earlier in the night. You see, the two of you have been together for a little over six months now. He enjoyed bragging about you, and you enjoyed being with him. You were his lock screen, the source of his brainrot, the majority of his entire instagram page, and the absolute apple of his eye. So it would only make sense that when he was made aware of his team banquet in celebration of their big game that he would invite you to come along with him, right? God, how he regretted that decision.

All eyes were on you two the moment you walked into the banquet. Because it was a formal occasion, you wore a sexy red gown with an open thigh slit similar to Jessica Rabbit’s and a deep v-cut that exposed your cleavage and ended just at the tip of your sternum. Not to mention that the back of the dress was low cut enough that your lower back dimples were visible to all. Needless to say, it was no surprise that you were the center of everyone's attention—despite the fact that some of the others had brought their girlfriends with them.

However, anyone who dared look at you for too long would be met with Ryusei’s fury—everyone except for Sae Itoshi, who stared shamelessly at you with desire burning in his eyes. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed this. Due to his high regard for him and the fact that he was the one who gave him a second chance at football in the first place, Ryusei felt as though he could not confront his junior about it. Not to mention that you and Sae already had a pre-existing friendship before the events of Blue Lock. The two of you were essentially inseparable throughout the entire evening, conversing, laughing, eating, and even drinking together while Ryusei was left behind to stew in his festering emotions.

You two have just returned to your apartment after what was a riveting night for you and a torturous one for Ryusei. Now that the two of you had returned home, shortly after locking the door, Ryusei would turn to you with his infamous grin on his face, but the predatory glint in his eyes told a completely different story. He was seething, his gaze piercing right through you.

"You and Sae seemed awfully close tonight, huh? Ya' never told me you two were so 'buddy, buddy'.”

You paused, gazing at your boyfriend with an incredulous stare as you picked up on his accusatory tone. He was, in a sense, correct. Even though you two got along really well that evening, all of your interactions were completely innocent. Considering that you two had been friends for as long as you could remember, this was the first time you had seen him since junior high, when he left for Madrid. What were you supposed to do? Ignore him the entire time?

"What do you mean, Ryu~?" You would inquire, calling him by his nickname in a way that came close to disarming him, but he remained steadfast and scowled as he observed you take your heels off of your slender feet and set them on the shoe rack next to the door.

"You know damn well what I mean, sweetness. He'd retort back, his hands becoming stuffed in the pockets of his slacks as he towered above you. "You can put on your whole innocent 'I was just being nice' act all you want, but I’m no idiot, Y/N."

I’d beg to differ. You thought as you sauntered further into your shared apartment, the buzz of the alochol in your system flickering in and out as Ryusei began to sour your mood. You could hear him following you from behind you due to the sound of his socks shuffle across the wooden floors, much to your dismay.

“We’re just friends, Ryu.” Exasperated, you sighed and made your way to the master bedroom with every intention of taking off this dress and your makeup, taking a hot shower, and then going to sleep.

“Oh, just friends~!” He mimicked your tone crudely, his quick palm darting forth to snatch your elbow to prevent you from moving further. He whirled you around with surprising strength, shoving you backwards into the wall beside your shared bedroom non-too-kindly, drawing a gasp from your lips. His hand seized your jaw, slender digits squeezing harshly against your bones, making you whine aloud. He leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your own at the scent of faint alcohol and mint wafted onto your face. “Don’t play coy with me, attention whore. I saw how you looked at him all night—practically eye-fucking him."

There was an undeniable fire in his eyes, accentuated by his downturned brows. His fuschia irises burned into yours as your eyelids narrowed into thin slits, boring into the core of your being. Sharp canines and pearly incisors were slightly exposed as his upper lip curled into an angry snarl. Excitement gathered between your legs as your 6'2" lover scowled down at you, forcing you to unavoidably squeeze your thighs together—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryusei.

“Ohoho, what do we have here?” He commented, his knee sliding between your thighs as a ferocious grin spread across his lips. Due to the height difference between you, his knee was perfectly positioned against your panty-clad folds, causing your clit to needily throb against him. “Could it be that you did this on purpose, you little minx? Got me all hot an’ riled up just so that I could fuck ya’ up a little bit, huh?”

The hand on your jaw moved down to your neck, his lithe digits wrapping around it before squeezing. With each passing second, his grip would grow more unforgiving. Your delicate hands encircled his wrist, your back curved into his chest from the wall behind you, and your hips jolted across his knee, eliciting a contented moan from your lips. That was sufficient proof to him that you were, in fact, becoming aroused by this.

“Dirty little bitch.” He growled, a chuckle rising from his lips, before closing the gap between you two and smashing his lips against yours. It was rough, filthy, and full of teeth and tongues smashing against one another in a desire-filled exchange between two people who were both far too ravenous for their own good. Your hands were all over him, and he was all over you until his large palms came to rest on the backs of your thighs and hoisted you into the air, causing you to squeal against his mouth. His brims smirked against yours as he carried you over to your shared bed and placed you atop your silken sheets and plush mattress.

He was on top of you again before you could react, his deft fingers grasping the arms of your dress and pulling it down your body in one smooth stroke, leaving you completely nude before him. He tossed his head back, groaning at the sight of your body and sinful curves, feeling himself practically straining against his boxers. He wasted no time stripping out of his own clothes before diving back onto you, his tongue and pointed canines making quick work of the delicate flesh of your collar bones and neck, leaving visible marks in his wake. While doing so, his hands snatched greedy handfuls of your breasts, squeezing and groping at the engorged sacks as cunning fingers pulled your nipples taut. You keened under his body, fingers grabbing at the roots of his hair and tugging, a silent plea for him to give you more—one he heeded with a few particularly rough slaps to your breasts.

“Greedy slut.” He snarled, rising to tower over you once again, calloused fingers massaging the plump skin of your breasts that he had just brutalized. “Y’want more, huh? I’ll fuckin’ give ya more.”

Sliding off of the bed, he grabbed you by your ankles to take you with him and flipped you around so that you were on your stomach. Assuming he wanted you on your hands and knees, you began to rise to your knees, however, he placed a fiery smack on your rear that had you crying out in both pain and pleasure.

“Nuh uh, keep that pretty ass down here, baby. I’ll fuck ya just like this.” He muttered through gritted teeth, pulling you back down so that your toes bore most of your weight on the floor and you were still pressed flat against the mattress.

Before you could regain your composure, you felt Ryusei pressing a hand firmly against your lower back and his cock sliding into your wet folds in one full push. You gasped, already breathless from the intrusion and the feeling of being so full that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. You sank against the sheets, your fists balling the material next to your head as you moaned curses into the sheets.

“Nah, baby, that won’t do.” His fingers threaded themselves through the root of your hair, forcing your head up from the bed. “Let me hear how I make this pretty pussy feel, yeah?”

“R-Ryu, y-you’re too big—”

“—The hell I fuckin’ am.” His pace increased, becoming brutal and unrelenting. Every time his hips touched yours, you felt him miraculously strike deeper and deeper areas within you, bullying his fat cock in and out of your helpless cunt as if he were trying to punish you. He was.

“Bet if—ngh! Bet if I was fuckin’ Sae, this pussy would take his cock with no problem, huh? Y’wish it was him fucking you, baby?”

He was barbaric and cruel, channeling every ounce of rage and jealousy into his furious thrusts that pistoned into you within an inch of your life. You enjoyed every second of it. Your mouth remained agape, drool threatening to pool over your soft brims as a chorus of unapologetically pleasured cries and moans escaped your open maw. Without even trying, he hit every spot inside of you as though he knew you in and out—no one would ever be able to replicate how his cock made you feel, not in a million years. That’s one of things you loved most about you.

A sharp smack to your rear snapped you from your fucked-out haze, a cry escaping your lips as Ryusei used the grip on your hair to yank your body flesh against his chest, his lips snarling into your ear, “Answer me, bitch.” He snarled through clenched teeth as his thrusts grew erratic, sloppy even. The distinct pleasure moans he used to emit between his words had evolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your lover.

“Tell me the truth, you wish you had another cock fucking you this good, huh? Making you— fuuuck! Making you gush around this big dick, huh, princess?”

“N-Noo, ah~! O-Only want you, Ryu! I only want you!” You babbled through tears of overstimulation as the hand that was previously grabbing your hair was now holding your neck, pressing you taut against him.

“Yeah? Y’love me and my cock that much, sweets?”

“Oh God, yes! I-I only love you, Ryusei! O-Only you, baby!”

“Thaat’s my fuckin’ girl. G’on. Make a mess on me, pretty.”

By the time you gushed around his cock, you were hardly able to stand. Ryusei's powerful arms helped you maintain your balance so he could finish the last few thrusts inside of you before coming undone, spilling ropes of hot milky cum inside of your dripping cunt. The sheer volume of it was too much for you to hold, squelching around his cock as he now languidly thrust inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.

When he was completely spent, he let go of you and pulled away, letting you fall gently to the mattress beneath you. He collapsed beside you onto his back with one arm covering your back and the other resting on his forehead as you writhed around lazily in the moment. Even though he usually could not think of anything other than falling asleep and how great his orgasm felt after having sex with you, you could tell by the unmistakable pinch of his brows and his intent gaze on the ceiling that he was still thinking about something.

“Somethin’ the matter?” You inquired softly, concerned by his sudden silence. You fashioned an arm pillow to rest your head on while looking at him. He didn’t look at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly in his throat. “. . . Did you mean it?”

Now it was your turn for your brows to furrow as confusion etched itself onto your features. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows so that you could at least meet his gaze, to which his fuschia hues would give in and finally meet your own. He looked bashful, unsure—it was unlike him. If you squinted, you were certain that you could make out the faint tint of pink tinging his cheeks. His gaze darted away from your own and off to some random corner of the room.

“Yanno . . . about lovin’ me.”

A wave of emotions came over you when you realized that, as you were at your highest, you had unintentionally confessed to him. A sudden warmth filled your heart and permeated every fiber of your being, spreading like a delicate dance of butterflies in your stomach. You said you loved him. Every word you said was genuine.

You shuffled over on the bed so that you could climb partially on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder as you guided his head to meet your gaze again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Of course, I meant it, Ryusei. I love you now, and I always will.”

His eyes held a tenderness that you did not even know he was capable of, his gaze softened, and his brows rose as if he had been suddenly struck with love. He loved you just as much as you loved him.

“What was that, babe?”

“I said I love you, Ryusei—”

“—I know.” He grinned suddenly and cheekily as he encircled you in a bear hug, squeezing you into his arms and pulling you up onto his naked form. “I just wanted ta’ hear ya say it again.”

“. . . I love you too, Y/N.”

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strongheartneteyam · 1 year

Text

[ IMPORTANT: the picture in the middle is a fungi that produces a liquid that ONLY SEEMS like blood. It's NOT real blood.]

It bleeds and it burns.

Neteyam Sully x female!omatikaya!reader

Author's note: Neteyam is in his twenties and he's now the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan.

CW: established relationship, so angsty, broken hearted reader, jealous reader, insecure reader, mentions of sex, emotionally hurt neteyam, intense feelings, hurt/comfort, crying, forgiveness, heart wrenching but beautiful

Not proofread. Also, I don't really know what kind of fanfiction this is, maybe a short story ??? no idea. just felt like writing it. hope u guys like it ♡

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

And so it seems I broke your heart

My ignorance has struck again

I failed to see it from the start and tore you open 'til the end

And I'm sorry to my unknown lover

Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me

Sorry (Halsey)

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Neteyam would always take your hand and smile at you so sincerely. You could tell how much he loved you only by the way his lips curled up and his mouth opened up wide, his fangs protruding.

You knew how strong he was, how powerful he was as the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan. Your mate was a fearless, brave warrior, a skilled hunter, a beyond great archer.

But you also knew he would never hurt you. He would never dare to use his physical strength or high intelligence to bruise or betray you, in any way. Not if he could help it. Never on purpose.

Neteyam had the softest spot for you ever. He was always there to help you, to keep you safe. He'd spend longer than usual out in the forest only to hunt your favorite kind of meat, gather your favorite fruits, bring you enough water for you to never be dehydrated.

You were a jealous kind of girl. Whenever you saw another female na'vi, a stranger, who wasn't a family member or an old friend of his, gazing at him for way too long, you'd become territorial. You'd sit on his lap when everyone would gather to eat together around the scorching bonfire, just so all the other Omatikaya girls knew Neteyam was yours. That you two had made tsaheylu, that it was useless to try.

Meanwhile, Neteyam only had eyes for you but you couldn't realize that. Even though everytime you two made love, especially when he was going through his rut, he would worship your body just like you were a goddess, like you were Eywa herself. So, you ended up hurting him when trying to keep him closer. You ended up making him bleed instead of nursing his wounds. You would have anger outbursts, fighting with Neteyam and showing too much jealousy unbelievably often.

One night, you were crazily mad at him. He was late. Where the hell could he be? What company was he keeping?

When Neteyam finally came home, only a little later than the usual, you started to ask him a handful of cutting questions. You asked him - nervously and in attack mode - where he was, if someone was with him, why was he so damn late. You told him you were not a fool and if he ever cheated on you, you'd never forgive him.

"I was just looking for this." He handed you a small basket full of bittersweet little berries. "I know they are your favorite. Wanted to bring you some but finding them took longer than I expected. There was a nantang in the way." (viperwolf) "I had to make him go away without hurting him too much. It was hard..." He sighed, tired "Sorry for coming home late." Neteyam was so calm, his altruism ruled over his instinct to defend himself.

You were left speechless, full of regret, feeling sorry for... everything. You had to change. You had to be a better mate for your Neteyam. He deserved the world and took so many responsibilities for himself. It had been so since he was a young na'vi boy. He surely felt overwhelmed. Who was going to always be there for him if not his mate, the one he was bonded to forevermore?

"You know," Neteyam's eyes stared deep inside yours. His feline like ears were pointing down, betraying his pain "not everything is what it seems."

You were frozen in your place, looking down at the floor, not able to look him in the eye. Your thoughts started to spiral, telling you that you were not good enough to be his mate and you always mess everything up in the end. Some seconds passed while you listened to that wicked voice in your head, while you let your insecurities deceive you, pretending to want to help you, when in the end, their true intention was to drag you down, make you act in stupidity.

When you looked up again, he was already gone. You walked towards the door, despair hitting you hard, stealing the air that should be going inside your lungs and out. Your eyes rapidly caught Neteyam's silhouette walking fast towards the open forest. He would always go there to unwind a bit, to organize his thoughts when everything felt like too much.

You could only hope and pray to the Great Mother that when he came back, he would forgive you for how you had been acting lately, for not trusting him, for being paranoid. You hoped he would give you a second chance to make it right. You tried to calm down, to breathe. You waited for him.

After walking for some time, Neteyam was now sitting on a tree branch. That same tree stood really tall. It was the perfect place to hide and not be bothered.

Hot tears silently rolled down his face. He was the Olo'eyktan, he could not let anyone see him cry in the middle of the forest, late at night, so he camouflaged, up high in that huge tree.

Neteyam's strong heart now felt fragile. He felt weak. Almost nobody could break him. He learned to be the toughest he could be just so he could take the heavy position of Olo'eyktan, leading his clan. Many envied him, but, what they didn't realize was that the "crown" he wore weighed more than it shone.

He loved to be the leader of his people but that didn't mean it was not hard to try and not crumble, even on the face of such complicated matters he had to solve, even facing life threatening danger really often, to be the Omatikaya people protector, ready to fight and give his life up to keep everyone safe and sound.

He didn't have the luxury to put himself in first place.

But he was thankful for his mate. His safe haven used to be you. But you became darker with time, harder to deal with. He missed who you were in the beginning. That fresh, bubbly, sweet girl he fell in love with. All he wanted was her back in his arms. Sometimes, he did not recognize you anymore.

Neteyam started to hear intense, irregular sounds of brittle leaves breaking. Someone was running through the forest he was in, getting closer and closer to where he was. He was in a full vigilance state now. But it soon changed.

It was you. You were now standing next to the tree he was sitting on. He looked down at your slender body that, from so afar, looked utterly small.

"Neteyam!" You shouted, looking up at your mate. The frail eclipse light that came through the leaves made his bioluminescent freckles shine so bright, just like many tiny fireflies settled on his dark blue, perfect skin. "I'm so sorry! Please! Can we talk?!" You looked at him, pleading

Neteyam immediately gave in. Of course he wanted to talk to you. To hear you say "forgive me". To accept you back inside his arms. He loved you ardently. All he wanted and needed was you.

He signaled he was going to get off the tree, and, so did he.

When he got to the floor, you ran to him like he was air and you were almost drowning.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, my yawne!" (beloved)

"Shhhh... it's okay." Neteyam cooed, trying to comfort you. He held you tight in his arms, your skin glued to his warm, comfortable body. "We'll make it through. I love you, yawntu." (loved one) "Forever."

Your mate took your face on his big hands and, seeing you were crying, inconsolable, he just crushed his lips on yours and kissed your pain and angst away.

"Oel ngati kameie." (I see you) "I never stopped seeing who you truly are. On our darkest moments, I still remembered." Neteyam reassured you, his face serene and full of a burning kind of love, only and exclusively for you.

You understood. You finally understood.

You did not need to be insecure. Nothing could ever tear the both of you apart. Not even death. You could finally rest your head down on your mat and sleep peacefully.

જ★

I'm tagging you @yeosxxx bc u asked to be tagged in all my works and I'm SO sorry for almost forgetting to tag u 🥲 my memory sucks

#neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #atwow neteyam #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omatikaya!reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully angst #neteyam angst #kxamtxomaw writes

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duyxjpg · 2 months

Text

Text messages between you & your f1 besties pt. 4

Summary: Just random dialogues between you & your f1 besties + your crush. Friends in question: Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen Note: Eventually the boys will take the matters in their own hands since it hurts physically to watch you (be so chaotic). Part 4 of the non ending saga is ready ofc with more chaotic Y/N content + bonus part.

Y/N always fake flirting with Charles just to annoy him. It always works..

Lando receiving his daily dose of headache at 01:34 AM as usual nothing new really..

Gossip girls are just dirty minded. Nothing wrong with Y/N and Maxie at all?!

You believe me when I say Charles is sometimes done with Y/N? Unbelievable but true.

Y/N being Y/N

What do you mean you see someone Bob? You gotta be more specific about it!!

Nothing just Y/N flirting with her babygirl Max.

Tf you mean you don't love Y/N more than Carlos? Is that even possible?

Next target 👉🏼 Christian Horner ✔️shit happens - check

Steiner just don't know yet what he is getting himself into. Y/N is not the one to take a hint and get out of trouble. Hard to believe that Y/N is a troublemaker right?

****************************************************

B o n u s :

random short insight into Y/N life with the boys:

„You are not going to do no such thing!” Y/N protested stamping her feet like a toddler, standing in the middle of the gaming hall.

“Why not? You like him, don’t you?” Charles grinned at Y/N widely. Y/N wanted to punch that smug grin off his pretty face. Y/N wanted to escape this very situation she was forced to be in, well sort of, so badly.

“Don’t grin like the cheshire cat and stop talking nonsense. How dare you?!” Y/N smacked Charles arm. Charles rubbed his arm while trying not to burst laughing. She looked around. Nervosity took over Y/Ns every single cell. Y/N could not believe that her so called friends made plans with the most handsome and perfect f1 driver on the grid at a gaming hall and did not tell her. Out of million places, the gossip girls choose violence and took her to the gaming hall. Y/N was competitive af and hated losing. The last time she went to a gaming hall Y/N had entry ban for three months.

As Y/N wanted to protest again Lando and Max did their entry. Lando was smiling from ear to ear. What a dumb man Y/N thought, trying the urge to roll her eyes. As for Max, he had his nonchalant way of looking. Casually dressed, his hands in his pockets and smiling at Y/N. What a man Y/N thought. Her "I have a crush on Max Verstappen" vibe was visible from the moon. Awkwardly greeting both of the drivers Y/N wanted to run away. She could feel the elephant in her stomach, yes elephants no butterflies, period.

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

“Y/N please calm down!” Lando laughed at Y/N. Y/N was horrible at racing games and currently she was losing miserably.

“I hate you all, how is this even a fair game? Racing with f1 drivers? What a fugging joke.” Y/N protested for the 100x time in the last five passing minutes.

“Since when do you care about fair play?” Charles mocked Y/N. Since I am terribly losing Y/N thought. She pointed Charles her favourite finger.

“Remember when you cold heartedly with a total serious expression explained me the rules to that one game wrongly so you could win?” Lando questioned with a fake disappointed look in his face.

“You did not!” Max laughed out loud. Laugh again you loser Y/N thought. It sounded like music in Y/N ears. What a beautiful man Y/N thought.

“It’s not my fault, it’s your own stupidity.” Y/N shrug and showed Lando her tongue. Y/N could see from the corner of her eye that Max was smiling while shaking his head. So pretty Y/N thought.

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

“I knew that Y/N would find a way to get her ass kicked out again!” Charles laughed.

“Disappointed but not surprised…” Lando added shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how she managed to punch a hole into the fucking wall!” Max questioned with a slight surprise in his voice.

"It was an "inchident." Y/N replied. Gaining a burst of laughter from Lando, a death glare from Charles and a grin from Max.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

****************************************************

Writers note: I didn't want to let you wait for too long + I thought it would be fun to show short parts of Y/Ns life with the boys. What you do you think about it? Would you like it or no?

#f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen scenarios #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris scenarios #lando norris scenario #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines

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eoieopda · 1 year

Note

Namjoon + “sibling’s best friend” except the sibling has been rooting for them to get together for years

combined with your other namjoon request 💕🫶🏻

Namjoon + “stuck in an elevator” bc god of destruction or simply bad luck idm either

the one with namjoon and the u-haul

ft. jeon!reader, moving day, a mild age gap, jk being a lil shit as usual, and blondejoon 🥵 (cw: claustrophobia / brief depiction of a would-be anxiety attack)

If you ever managed to get your hands on your brother, you might kill him.

Of course, you’d have to find him first — and if your sixteen unanswered calls were any indication, Jeon Jungkook might’ve left this mortal coil already. Unfortunately for you and the rented U-Haul parked outside your apartment building, you needed that evasive little shit and his inhuman stamina.

More importantly, you’d needed him an hour ago when that rental clock started ticking.

The minutes you’d burned up already — firing text after unacknowledged text at your twin — were ones you’d quite literally pay for later in the form of late fees. Jungkook knew this, knew you, knew that your neurotic, Type-A brain had calculated exactly how much time would be needed for the two of you to orchestrate your cross-town move. Just like he knew you were simultaneously too weak to move these boxes yourself; and too poor to shell out for the full-day rental package or professional movers.

And yet, there he wasn’t.

You’d worn crop circles into the carpet already with your relentless pacing. One more step, and the pedometer built into your Apple Watch might give up altogether, explode into a cloud of sparks around your wrist. Worse, it might send out an emergency alert to the nearest mobile crisis unit and get your ass pink-slipped. Maybe, you think, you should try being still for once in your life.

You hit the brakes so suddenly that the inertia makes you wobble, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let that anxious momentum drop you unceremoniously onto the nearby sofa.

The one was supposed to be loaded up an hour ago.

Not that you’re counting.

Just as soon as you slump with a huff into the cushions, a rhythmic knock at your door yanks you back to your feet. All you see is red as you stagger over a sea of cardboard boxes, wind your way through garment bags, odds and ends to reach the entrance to your apartment. Your hand snaps like a bear trap around the doorknob when you finally clear the obstacle course; and you nearly rip the door off its hinges when your rage propels it open.

The preparatory breath you’d sucked in — gunpowder in your lungs, ready to pop off at your unbelievably tardy brother — instead leaves you in a startled gasp:

“Oh, God.”

Immediately, your face begins to burn with embarrassment. You don’t know what to do with your hands, either; they’re still balled up into fists and ready to swing. Fuck! Sweaty palms! You wipe them furiously on the back pockets of your denim shorts and try to keep the rest of you from liquifying.

“Actually,” comes a surprisingly soft voice from a body so contrary, “It’s pronounced Namjoon.”

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Not that lopsided, tight-lipped smile.

Anything but that.

You, a fool, blurt out the obvious, “You’re not Jungkook.”

Of course, this offering is worthless. The twerp who entered this world three minutes before you was sixty-three minutes late; and his friend — the one you still can’t believe Jungkook manages to keep — was standing in his place. His older, smarter friend, whose massive hands you picture when you —

Kim Namjoon has a laugh that makes less noise the more he means it. Based on the melodic little hiss that erupts in response to your declaration, he finds your buffoonery hilarious.

You are not long for this world, you fear.

“Got me there,” he concedes. Looking up to find him beaming at you, you’re not surprised that staring at his grin — the one that shows all his teeth and makes his eyes crinkle — feels a lot like staring into the sun.

Don’t you dare faint. You’ve survived three years with that face. You can and will be normal about this.

As if that wasn’t enough, Namjoon has the audacity to lay his palm flush against the door jam above your head and lean down and — shit, his biceps just look like that? All the time?

You’re already a puddle at his feet when Namjoon hums, “Heard you needed an extra set of hands.”

You want to ask if he’s psychic — his hands, in any context, are precisely what you need — but you don’t. You clear your throat and throw on your best approximation of nonchalance. Cross your arms over your chest in a way you hope looks casual, tilt your head to the side.

You raise a single eyebrow before responding, laying it on thick, “So, he lives, huh? Texts you but not his own flesh and blood? Sends his poor hyung as a proxy?”

“I have free will, you know,” Namjoon chides you without any real heat. “And a free afternoon, too.”

He then shrugs his shoulders before pointing over yours. The target he’s acquired sits at the very edge of your peripheral vision, a beast in velvet upholstery. His grin is downright impish when he continues, “Unless your plan is to yeet that couch straight off the balcony, I suspect your options here are limited.”

If you’d been given the opportunity, you’re confident that you may have come up with some witty remark. Instead of ongoing banter, you get a hand on either side of your waist, picking you up and moving your rag doll body out of the doorway. Namjoon smirks as he sets you down, ignores your slacked jaw, and invites himself into your apartment.

On his way to the couch, he spots something that catches his eye. He pauses, bends down towards a laundry basket full of assorted bullshit, and pulls out what can only be described as a cursed object. It’s your most hideous and most beloved possession, having joined you in every major move since you left your parents’ house: a ceramic shelf-sitter in the form of a rooster, the body of which is entirely made of sculpted fruits.

Namjoon is absolutely baffled by it, open mouth forming a circle as he stares down at his discovery. You should be baffled, you think, it’s God’s ugliest creation. Then, as if the force of his quiet blinking was too much for it to handle, the bunch of bananas composing its tail feathers pops off and promptly falls to the ground.

Horrified, he watches in slow motion as it hits the hardwood below with a thump. You watch as his shoulders sag; unable to tell whether the fond little tug in your chest is based on your weird, broken art, or how completely crushed he looks.

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry!” He gasps, ducking down to grab the runaway appendage. Fuck the bird — it’s him. Then, he mutters directly to the object looking laughably small in his palm, “What’d you do me like that for? Rude as hell.”

Instinctively, you cross to where Namjoon stands in the center of your living room. When you reach him, you feel him brace himself for your reaction; but all you do is bend at the waist, grab a small tube of super glue from that same laundry basket, and hold it up. He glances from your fingers to your face.

“A must-have when you break shit as often as I do,” you chirp. Then, you gesture with your free hand to the basket. His gaze follows and locks onto the small, strawberry knee joint that you’d accidentally severed as you packed. To say that his eyes light up is an understatement.

Namjoon taps at the “made in” sticker on the bottom of the rooster and smirks, “This is what you get for buying American, honestly.”

_____

You didn’t have “spending time with Kim Namjoon” on today’s bingo card, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Lucky for you, he was stronger than your idiot brother and infinitely less frustrating to be around. The pair of you moved around your apartment like you were ballroom dancing; neither of you needing the steps called out to know them. It was easy, it was synchronized, and you didn’t have to beg him to stay on task.

Absolute none of that would be the case if your day had gone as planned.

In thirty minutes’ time, all of your possessions had been loaded into the U-Haul except one: the couch. Due to its bulkiness, you knew it’d be difficult to maneuver despite its relatively light weight.

Namjoon, boasting more brain cells than you by a long-shot, had suggested using the elevator. So long as it was angled properly, he reasoned, the two of you could make it fit without issue. Then, you wouldn’t need to wrangle the first neighbor you came across to help you pivot the blasted thing around every stairwell.

It was a short trip, only four floors, so you’d decided not to explain why you’d taken the stairs for every previous run of boxes.

Maybe you should have, because forty-five minutes have passed since you entered that elevator, and you are swiftly running out of ways to pretend that you’re fine.

From where you sit cross-legged on the elevator floor, you can hardly see Namjoon, who is believed to exist somewhere on the other side of your couch. Every now and then, there’d been a flash of blonde hair next to one of the couch’s arms — proof of life — but he’s more often invisible than not.

You’re okay with that fact, you realize. It means he can’t see the way your anxiety is manifesting only half a meter away from him.

“D’you think this call button even works?” He calls out to you, unknowingly contributing to the cold sweat slicking the small of your back, “I’ve pressed it a hundred times and — as you know — we haven’t been rescued.”

You wonder if you sound as strangled as you feel. Throat tight, you mutter, “Nothing in this building works. ‘S part of why I’m moving.”

Apparently, you do sound as strangled as you feel. You hear shifting in Namjoon’s corner of the elevator, and then you see his face materialize near the bottom of the couch. His eyebrows were initially furrowed, but the concern he carried there migrated. It settles and causes his eyes to widen when they find you.

“You alright?” He asks immediately. Sweetly.

In the grand scheme of things, yes, you would concede that you are — generally — more or less alright. You’ve been in worse places with worse company, and relatively speaking, this isn’t your ultimate nightmare. You’re capable of far greater panic than this.

In this moment, however, in this godforsaken metal box with walls that feel like they’re getting closer by the second, and stale air that gets heavier and heavier when you try to breathe it into your lungs, the walls of which are also getting —

Namjoon answers for you, decidedly but without even a hint of judgement, “You’re not alright.”

There’s more shuffling from the corner. Within a few moments, he manages to wriggle himself into a standing position. With two hands now on the couch’s spine, he glances urgently in your direction. His eyes soften, but you’re distracted by the loose lock of blonde hair that falls over his forehead, over them.

“If I find a way to you, does that make it better or worse?”

Of course, big-brain Kim Namjoon has the sense to ask. Of course, he’s emotionally intelligent enough to realize that joining you in your space could either calm your anxiety, or force it into X-Games mode. Of course, you feel like you’re being hydraulically pressed, so you don’t have the available brain cells to run a proper cost-benefit analysis.

So, you peep, “I — uhh, I don’t know?”

He purses his lips like he’s trying not to smile — because, as you’ve learned, he’s a good fucking person — but you feel a little bit less like you’re actively dying when you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. Taking that gut reaction at face value, you swallow and wordlessly wave him over.

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

The way he grunts softly when he single-handedly pushes the couch further upright would make your whole body clench if it wasn’t already. The same is true of your rapid heart rate and the simmering desire to swoon. Wait — it’s called “fainting” if it’s a medical event, right? Whatever it is, the urge only gets stronger when he slots himself into the tiny bit of space at your side.

“Here — Oh, hang on,” He says, prompting you to look his way.

Your eyes catch him just in time to watch him wipe his hand off on his jeans, then hold it out to you. Without a second thought, you accept it. Squeezing slightly to express your gratitude, you smile and let your joint hands rest against your thigh. Like a shot of clonazepam, he has you calm in an instant.

A few moments of silence pass comfortably. Eventually, when your pulse returns to safety, you tilt your head back against the metal wall behind you and gaze upwards. The ceiling is back where it belongs, no longer inching towards you with the intent to flatten you against the floor. You breathe deeply then sigh out the exhale.

“I’m so glad I’m not trapped in here with Jungkook,” you announce, “If he were here, he’d be jumping up and down to try to get this thing to move, and I’d be nerve-barfing everywhere.”

“Good god,” Namjoon snorts. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s thoroughly amused, not at all grossed out by the picture you’ve painted. You know I’m right, you think.

It’s not clear if he knows you’re watching when his smile turns shy. He says it quietly, like he’s divulging some heavy secret, “Glad I called him off, then.”

You hum in agreement before those words actually register in your distinctly soup-like brain. When they finally do, you tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him in confusion. For the first time in three years, he gets to hear what it sounds like when you buffer in real time:

“Sorry, you — huh?”

The math isn’t adding up. The science isn’t — doing whatever it is that science does. The words? Well, they’re failing you. You’ve got nothing.

Namjoon’s free hand rubs against the back of his neck. He smiles sheepishly, so damn cutely. For a second, he nibbles on his bottom lip before coming clean, “I may have asked Jungkook if I could sub in today.”

No thoughts, head empty, just wide-eyed blinking. It’s all you’re capable of with your stomach doing backflips the way it is.

“He was — umm — more than happy to switch swifts, you know?”

Of course, he was. Jungkook is a brat.

Namjoon chuckles and it’s then that you realize you’d broadcasted your thoughts out loud. He shakes his head as if you hadn’t just spit objective fact out into the elevator. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to follow the plot.

“For being an older brother, Kook’s a surprisingly good wing-man.”

Your jaw drops. Finger raised, you interject immediately, all piss and vinegar. “Joon, he is three minutes older. Don’t you dare give him credit for that. His ego’s already hit the ceiling, and I am not calling him oppa —”

Namjoon purses his lips again. The corner of his mouth ticks upward again. He’s apparently waiting for a response that you haven’t given him, again. Your sentence dies out before you can punctuate it.

Oh. Did you —?

Eyes as big as the moon, you sputter, “Wing man?”

“There you go, champ,” he laughs, affectionately nudging your shoulder with his. “Is that lag one of those twin things people talk about, or —?”

You land a playful smack on his bicep, but let your hand linger. Not unlike the way he’d done twice before, you pinch your lips together and try not to grin like the fool you are. Taking advantage of your pause, Namjoon reaches across his body with his free arm and peels your palm from his bicep. He keeps on holding it and you only melt a little bit.

It takes effort on your part, but you squirm in your spot until you’re able to face him more fully.

“Namjoon, you have to tell me the truth,” you demand. You squint back at him, narrowed eyes emphasizing the dramatic tone you’ve taken. “Did you or did you not break this elevator on purpose?”

He laughs so hard that it’s silent. His heads ducks down, too, until his forehead rests gently against your shoulder. From there, he sighs, “I did not break this elevator on purpose.”

After a pause, he sits back up, handcuffs his gaze to yours, then grins with all his teeth. “I’d be a fool not to capitalize on the opportunity, though.”

You close the distance and kiss him with all you’ve got, cotton-candy sweet and fresh-linen soft. It’s easy — the way it felt when your busy bodies swirled around your living room, never once stumbling — and you swear you hear bells ringing.

Namjoon pulls away breathless. He begins to ask the question, but the gentle lurch of the elevator answers before he can finish.

#jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #knj #2k drabblepalooza #re: the one with namjoon and the u-haul #kim namjoon #namjoon #bts #bts drabble #namjoon drabble #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

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