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azsazz · 2 days

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Out of Order

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...

Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).

Word Count: 3003

Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏

Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world

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“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed.

It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.

And now this.

Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.

Late, late, late.

You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head.

The men’s locker room.

There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too.

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this.

But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.

You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.

Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.

Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.

You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.

You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.

The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.

You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.

Azriel.

Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.

“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.

Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.

You kind of like this look on him.

“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.

This is utterly humiliating.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.

Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.

The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.

“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.

You swallow roughly, “Good call.”

“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.

“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.

You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.

“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”

Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.

You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—

“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”

Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.

“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—

“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”

You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.

Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.

You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.

“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.

Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.

You really need to get the fuck out of here.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.

You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.

A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.

Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.

“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.

“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.

Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.

A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.

Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.

“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.

His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.

He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”

You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”

“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.

“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.

You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.

He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.

Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.

“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.

“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”

Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.

You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.

“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”

“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”

Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”

As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.

Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.

You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.

He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.

“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”

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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel #hockey!azriel #hockey!bat boys #acowar #azriel smut

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ariaste · 2 days

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listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

#interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #iwtv amc #loustat

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bc-jpeg · 2 days

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What do you think about Mumbo's art cam in the newer episodes?

I am personally still shocked like, HE CAN DO ART NOW? This man won't stop suprising me, I love it so much, also I don't see many people talking about that and I have no idea why because for me it's the best thing ever.

Anyways, hope you're doing good :D byee

the man does literally EVERYTHING.

when mumbo created @a.creative.junkyard for his art practice, only then I realized that he had literally been doing something like this for several years already. firstly for youtube, and after that he created many presentations of film projects to work with his clients, which already means a quite good basic skill in graphic design and especially the design eye.

still a big fan of his works from this account.

I love how he got creative with the start of season 10, using his skills to add some fun to the editing by creating new slides for his episodes. the way he’s sincerely passionate about creating such things, I empathically feel his joy.

mumbo started visualizing the whole stories through what he creates, and all the effort, work and fun is absolutely worth it. he may have had some small storytelling pieces before, but now it has definitely moved to another level.

the hand drawn concepts. if you look closely at the video, he strokes the colors manually. mumbo gets so immersed in the process when drawing these concepts, it feels therapeutic even. I always liked to see the concepts of the other hermit’s bases, that they drew by hand. since my main hobby is drawing, it always brings me closer to people on some other level when I see their drawings. as a big fan of mumbo, I’m so infinitely happy that he started to show this part of the process too. these concepts always add even more to the result, I don’t know how to explain it in words. just more. more sense of life from a story, from a building itself.

mumbo has knowledge and experience, but it's like he's been focusing on other aspects while building on the server before. in season 9, he started moving in a different direction more, and now it has achieved clear visible progress, he’s more actively experimenting and isn’t afraid to take on something that he has never done. now mumbo is even more confidently saying that he’s proud of himself.

this may seem insignificant to an outsider viewer, but

for a man who has been building redstone stuff and solid giant symmetry for several years in a row, it’s mind blowing.

#mumbo jumbo #bc meowed

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hedgehog-moss · 10 hours

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I bought a roll of chicken netting to fence off my vegetable garden—which I haven't planted yet because it's been raining every single day for like two months and I didn't want my young tomato plants to rot, but the weather is finally improving. I'll plant my garden next week, and I wanted to trim the grass around it and clear the area of weeds, but then I remembered I have animals that can do this job.

So I opened the pasture in front of the (future) garden. Currently it looks like a long pile of dirt, because that's what it is (well, compost + llama manure + dirt)—but look how long it is! I'm feeling ambitious this year and I have quintupled the length of my initial hügelkultur mound.

You might be surprised to learn that Pirlouit was the first animal who noticed the opening in the fence and got out. It's not actually surprising because Pirou has a fresh grass-dar—but Pampe was very much surprised & vexed.

Everyone looked really happy to have access to this new little area!

Initially I thought I would be able to continue preparing the garden while they were eating, but I quickly realised I was too paranoid for that. I mean, it's Pampe vs. a small temporary fence meant for chickens. Enough said. I didn't dare to turn my back on her even for a minute, so I ended up just sitting in the grass next to them with a book, which was really nice.

Pampe decided to lie down in the grass to eat more comfortably, something Pirlouit still deeply disapproves of.

Poldine however thinks it's a brilliant idea.

Update: all my llamas are now horizontal, eating like three Roman emperors. Only Pirlouit continues to mind his table manners.

Of course this peacefulness couldn't last, and after stuffing herself with new grass for half an hour, Pampe remembered there was also a new fence to think about.

She decided to lie down again 5 centimetres away from it, so she could inspect it and strategise while maintaining a demeanour of relaxed innocence.

I was not relaxed.

You are exhausting.

At 7:30pm I started feeling torn, because I don't like to miss apéritif time but—could I run to the kitchen to get a glass of apéritif and some biscuits and run back before Pampe had time to do anything? (The kitchen is 15 metres away.) (I feel like this detail doesn't change anything and if I inserted a poll here everyone would massively vote "Pampe will have time to escape")

But you would be wrong!! When I returned from my quick and suspenseful dash to the kitchen, guess who was on the verge of doing something illegal...?

PAMPOLDINE. Bad llama!! She was interested in tasting the flowers on the other side and she was pretty bashful when I shooed her away.

I believe the only reason Pampérigouste didn't escape is because she assumed her daughter was about to, so her family's reputation was maintained, she would get to see me run and curse llamakind and straighten the fence grumpily, and she didn't even have to get up.

Which goes to show that she doesn't escape due to a deep and unquenchable thirst for freedom, but to aggravate me personally.

I settled on my ash wood throne to have apéritif, comfortably seated in full view of all the animals—

—so of course Pampe immediately got up and went to inspect the fence on the other end of this little pen, behind the hazel tree that was blocking my line of sight, in the one place that I couldn't see from my seat.

I had to get up to see what she was doing (and angrily wave a stick in her direction until she moved away) and when I returned to my tree stump there was a little insect swimming in my wine. Pampe lay down again, pleased with herself.

When it was dinner time and I kindly invited everyone to return to the pasture (Pirlouit & Pampelune complied without fuss), Pampe suddenly lay completely flat in the grass, in what was clearly an attempt to make herself invisible and be forgotten all by herself in this barely-fenced area, kind of like children who dream of being locked in a toy shop overnight.

I haven't taken my eyes off you all evening. Of course I can see you.

I had to poke her with my stick until she deigned to get up and leave (Poldine followed), but all in all it was a very successful little outing. I might do this regularly throughout the summer to keep the grass trimmed in this area, although the difficulty level will be greatly increased when I have to patrol the fence and protect my vegetables at the same time.

I'll add that when I went out later in the evening to close the chicken coop, Poldine & Pampelune were far away, grazing together under the plum trees, meanwhile Pirlouit and Pampe were still queueing in front of the part of the fence that was previously open. Both waiting for me to let them access this heavenly garden again (but with different motivations)

#crawling along

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 day

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congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

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cheriladycl01 · 1 day

Text

First time - Lando Norris x Innocent! Reader

Plot: Lando finds out his girlfriend is more innocent than he ever thought and that turns him on hard core.

Warnings: SMUT Innocence Knik etc MINORS DNI 18+

Credit to princemick for the GIF

When Lando first started dating you he knew you were pretty innocent and oblivious to the world around you.

The first time he noticed it was when he first met you. You were in a club and he sat back watching you the whole night, run around like mother hen after your friends who ... arguably weren't being good friends to you and were using you as their sober ride home.

You were making sure your friends had clean drinks straight from the bartender and handing them tissues or hand gels when they touched anything dirty.

Your friends had left you that night, leaving Lando to take the opportunity to come and introduce himself. He wasn't shocked to find out this was your first time in a club, that you hated it and wanted to go home.

"So, what brings you to Monaco?" he'd asked you and you gave him this big gummy grin that he couldn't help but fall in love with.

"My friends and I are on a girls trip celebrating graduation!" you answered, trying not to yell incase the music went quiet but loud enough so he could hear.

"And that's why they've all abandoned you?" he chuckled walking you over to the bar.

"Yeah, I think they just have different ideas of fun than I do, we saw some really beautiful museums earlier which was my idea!" you smile thinking back to the earlier part of the day which you had favoured.

"Drink?" he asks you and you smile nodding your head.

"I'll have a Coors again and ..." he says naming his beer before looking at you.

"I'll just have a Spite please!" you order in French from the bartender who smiles at you.

"You can order something more expensive like alcohol i don't mind!" he smiles down at you, only for you to shake your head.

"I erm, don't drink! I've never drank alcohol actually!" you smile, pretty proud of you lifestyle.

"Yeah, I used to say I didn't drink and then my friends introduced me to it. Never been the same since!" he frowns in a joking manner making you laugh.

"You're funny!" you giggled.

You guys talked for the rest of the night, until it was the closing hours of the club and you had to part ways.

He'd regretted not getting your number.

The next time he met you was a complete coincidence. He was travelling around and caving in Vietnam. You were there building sustainable housing on your year after graduating. He knew it was you right away and everyone was so confused when he went running of to go say hello to you.

After that he got your number. He had to secure it after a second chance of meeting you which he'd been considering was gods gift to him.

After a few dates and texting back and forth for a while you started dating.

"Y/N, can we talk about something serious?" he'd asked you and you nodded coming to sit next to him on the sofa in his apartment.

"Yeah what's wrong?" you ask him with a frown thinking you'd done something wrong.

"How would you feel, about becoming my girlfriend..." he asks before presenting you with a little gift bag in papaya orange that had chocolates, flowers, a little card and a pair of expensive Cartier earrings. Not that you knew that until you got back to the hotel you were currently staying in and opened them up.

"Oh my! Yes! Please" you replied happily and he was trying so hard not to laugh at your super polite and formal answer to his ... well what now felt like a proposition

You were so happy and getting to spend time with Lando was everything! You came to races and everyone adored you, not just the people in McLaren with Lando but all the TV presenters, the fans and the other teams.

Lando was confused that after having dated for three months you hadn't done anything within a sexual nature. Not that it was an issue for him but he was just used to his girlfriends being bold and upfront compared to you, who was a little shyer and more reserved.

He knew he just needed to be a grown up and talk to you about it but he didn't think he could have this conversation with you. It felt wrong almost.

"Baby, can we talk?" Lando says patting the sofa while you were in the kitchen starting to prep for the lunch you were going to make the both of you.

"Yeah, what's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask looking at him carefully and taking a seat next to you.

"No, no not at all. It's kinda the opposite actually!" he laughs at his own joke not thinking you'd take notice of it.

"I haven't done something? I - did i forget to do my dished? I'm so sorry if i did!" you say looking back to the sink frantically thinking you'd missed your glass of orange juice and bowl of cereal you'd had this morning.

"No no, and don't think of it that way. I was just joking around - erm, I just wanted to say we've been dating for a while now and I was hoping we could start to be more intimate?" he asks holding your hand and your eyes widen and your cheeks redden.

"I- erm" you start to stutter and he rubs his thumb over your hand.

"We don't have too... if you don't want too! But I just wanted to ask!" he rushes out not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"It's just that ... I've never ever done anything like that!" you say looking at him with those innocent doe eyes that made him go crazy.

"Like never ever?" he asks in shock, you were a gorgeous girl and even when he was out with you, guys would always be coming up to you, making conversation and flirting with you.

Now that he thought about it, you never actually could tell when you were being lightly flirted with. You were very oblivious too all moves guys made, unless they were literally asking for you number.

"Mmmm no, I mean ... you know you're like my first boyfriend right?" you ask him, cocking your head to the side.

"Wait, you've never been with anyone else other than me?" he asks, and fights to keep the smirk off his face. There was something so dirty, about the fact that you were so pure and untouched, and that it turned him on that he would be the first, and hopefully last to show you everything he could.

"No" you whisper and he looks at you, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a soft kiss.

"Will you let me show you, everything I want to?" he asks looking at you, brushing some of your hair behind you so he has full view of your collarbone.

"Yes..." you breathe out, feeling flutters in your stomach at both his words and actions.

"Now?" he asks with a little gulp, hoping the answer would be a yes.

"Yes, show me now Lan!" you say, climbing onto his lap getting excited about the actions to come.

"Okay, baby. Lets slow down" he laughs holding you in place. He shifts about so he's comfortable and starts to run his hands over your body. Little goosebumps rise to the surface coating your arms as his fingers roam across your collarbone, down over your clothed boobs and down until he had a firm grip on your hips.

"As much as I like your wearing my shirt baby, I'm going to take it off you now, is that okay?" he asks looking you in the eyes and you nod, looking down a little intimidated by the intense eye-contact.

"Words baby, you gotta tell me" he smiles at you and you smile.

"Yes, you can"

And he does, he fingers brush against you and a groan comes out of his mouth as he see's what he's been missing out on seeing. Your perky tits were currently clad in an orange coloured bra. He didn't know if that was a normal colour for you or if you'd brought it since dating the McLaren driver.

"You are so fucking beautiful" he says looking at you, teasing against the straps of your bra before slowly pulling down each of them, before reaching round the back and unclasping it so it fell off you.

In reflex your hands came up, to cover your exposed chest, it wasn't something you were used too.

"I want to see and touch baby, please let me!" he says softly.

You felt comfortable and confident enough with Lando that you felt like you could show this part of yourself to him, a part that no-one apart from you had seen.

The moment was getting more and more intimate as his hands started to fondle your boobs, pinching squeezing and kneading. Lando learning what you liked from the noises you were making as he continued.

The more intimate it got, the hotter and more impatient you got with the new sensation in you stomach and the slickness and heat building between your legs.

Naturally, your body is craving friction. Your mind is going haywire not really knowing what to do to get the relief its craving. So your body automatically started to grind down on him, and you could feel just how excited he was getting with the large bulge building in his sweatpants.

You could tell it was something he liked too from the little whines and groans that came out overtime pressure was applied.

"I- I want to make you feel good. But I don't know how" you offer and he nods.

"Do you want me to show you?" he asks and you nod. He takes your hand and starts to help you palm him through his joggers, breathy moans coming from him.

"That's it, and when your ready you can take them off" he breathes out softly, not wanting to rush you into anything.

You take him out of his jogger, having a grip on him that was tight and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"That's it baby. Now just run your hand up and down in a fisting motion!" he says, but you make no move to start, his head that was thrown back raises to look at you in question.

"Can you show me?" you ask, wide eyes and he nods, taking your hand that was around him in his as he helps you start to move up and down, showing the pace and grip that he liked. His moans were constantly flowing out now as he let go to grip the edges of the sofa and lean back. You started to go a little faster, before slowly right down and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I heard... from friends that you really like when we use our mouths?" you ask and look at him.

"You dont have to if you don't want to" he groans.

"I- will you enjoy it?" you ask.

"I think i'd enjoy anything you did to me"

"Then i want to do it" you nod and he sits up a little more.

"Okay, get on your knees baby..." he directs and you get to the floor in between his legs.

"You want my help?" he asks and you nod, he takes your hair into a ponytail to keep it out your face.

"Okay, open baby. Remember no teeth baby, it hurts!" he smiles and you start by what you thinks right and go straight in. You gag a little and he pulls you head back from the grip.

"No need to rush hunny. Just start with the head, and then you'll feel a vein on the underside that always feels good, okay? But don't rush to fill your mouth up okay?" he chuckles a little bit as he watches you listen to him.

You start with small movements around his tip, moving your tongue over his slit where pre-cum is leaking out. It was a strange taste that the first few times had your eyes screwing but you slowly got used to it.

You run your tongue along the underside feeling the throbbing vein he was talking about and he went crazy, moaning above you and desperately trying not to thrust up.

You slowly take more and more in your mouth and what you cant fit you decide to use your hands to cover the rest and use the movements you were doing earlier.

"Holy fuck! Are you sure you havent done this before baby?" he asks in shock of how good it feels. Maybe it was just because he was so in love with you that it felt 10x better than he ever had, or maybe you were just a quick learner and good at observing what he liked.

A minute later and he was coming into your mouth, you were quick to swallow all of him and leave his dick with a string of saliva attaching you together.

"Fucking hell baby" he smiles pulling you up onto his lap resting you on top of him, your knees either side of him.

"Was that good?" you ask, shyly. He can only nod as he catches his breathing.

"Your turn!" he smirks, one had on your hip the other one inching up your inner thigh under the skirt you were in. His hands starts to rub your clit through your underwear, and he smiles as your head falls into the crook of his neck and he can feel your breathing pick up against him.

His fingers curl round the edge of your panties pulling them to one side rubbing his fingers through your wet folds.

"Is this all for me baby!" he asks using his free hand to run through your hair as you keep your head in the crook of his neck rocking against his movements. His fingers eventually find there way in, the stretch a little painful at first.

"It's okay, it'll start to feel good in a minute" he says rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Tell me if i should stop yeah?" he asks and you just nod before quickly shaking your head, realising that may have come across as you want him to stop when you really don't now that a coil is building in your stomach and his fingers are feeling incredible inside you.

"Lando!" you whine starting to kiss along his neck and jaw, needing to occupy yourself with something to focus on the growing feeling inside you.

"Fuck baby, the things you do to me!" he exclaims feeling himself get hard again from the whole intimate situation occurring.

In seconds you're letting that coil go, not being able to hold it in any longer and gushing over his fingers. He pulls them out, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean groaning at the taste of you, his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I gotta have a taste of you baby!" he practically whimpers out, before laying you on the sofa and spreading your legs open. You shyly try to shut them but he just tuts.

"Lemme baby please!" he says softly and he stop resisting against his hands. He dives in, nipping and licking at the parts he knows are most sensitive, before devouring you as if your a five course meal. It felt incredible, better than his hands and you legs were shaking the whole time.

Your mind was fuzzy and you could only let out little swear words and his name to let him know just how good he was making you feel.

And only minutes later and you were releasing into his awaiting mouth where he fully cleaned you up. He draw back, a small sheen on his nose and corners of his mouth from your release that had you blushing.

"Lets finish this in the bedroom yeah?" he asks and you nod eagerly as he picks you up tossing your over his shoulder, giving your arse a light tap on the way out that had you giggling and squealing.

He places you gently on the bed hovering over you. He starts to take the rest of the clothing that was left on you off and chucking it to the floor before he starts to take his own off. He reaches into the bedside draw, grabbing a condom and opening it with his teeth before rolling it on.

"You are so beautiful baby! Are you ready?" he smiles, now lining himself up with your entrance. You hesitate for a split second, before remembering its your incredibly kind and beautiful and caring boyfriend Lando above you right now who wouldn't dream of hurting you.

"Yes" you nod, and he slowly starts to push himself into your warm, wet caverns. He moans at the tight feeling of you, kissing across your neck and collarbone trying to help you un-tense a little.

"Baby, you gotta relax" he guides you, starting to play with your boobs to get you feeling good. He pushes in a little more when he feels that you arent tensing as much and you sigh.

"Woah, your so big!" you exclaim, thinking he'd bottomed out from the stretch as you try regain your breath.

"Baby... hate to break it to you but I'm only halfway inside you" he laughs with a chuckle, nearly loosing his balance on his forearms that he is using to hold himself steady above you.

"What?" you ask opening your eyes too look at your laughing boyfriend.

"Thank you for the compliment though baby, that makes me feel really good about myself" he says honesty before he pushes the full way in, finally bottoming out. You wiggle a little trying to get comfortable before giving him a nod where he starts to move in and out of you.

It starts to progressively feel better and better to the point where you can start meeting his thrusts to make it a little quicker. The sounds in the room are anything but innocent, both of your breathy moans and your high pitched whines when he reaches in between you to rub circles on your clit and the sound of slapping skin.

"Lando fuck! I love you" you cry as the pressure builds up and up.

"I fucking love you too" he breathes out, his thrusts coming a little sloppier.

And soon your both releasing at the same time as he pulls you in closer to him, almost laying all his weight on you.

"I'm like so glad we had that talk!" Lando laughs pulling himself up to look at you.

"Me too, I cant wait for you to show me more!" you grin pulling him into a kiss making him groan and grab the pillow to put over his face. He was exhausted but ... round 2 sounded like a shout.

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando x reader #lando fluff

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moonstruckme · 1 day

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Hey queen what about a lil fic of reader with one of the boys (u can pick whoever!!) where it's her first healthy relationship and May be she thanks them for being nice and he's just like ummm I don't wanna be mean to u

Thanks for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You have a habit of complaining into the void. It’s not the first text you send James griping about your day at work and it likely won’t be the last, but you’re surprised when the result is him turning up at your desk with flowers and a coffee.

“James,” you say dumbly, looking up in absolute astoundment as he sets the flowers carefully by your keyboard and bends down for a kiss.

“Hi, angel.” James presses the coffee into your hand. Spots the empty desk next to yours and, with a quick glance around, steals the chair, sitting beside you. “Are you still on your lunch break?”

“I—yeah.” Your brain can’t quite make sense of him at your work. It’s like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the store. James, with his casual clothes and easy smile, doesn’t belong in this place. “I’ve got twenty minutes left. What are you doing here?”

“You seemed like you were having a rough morning,” he says simply. “I thought I might see if I could come and make you feel a bit better—don’t worry, I brought supplies.”

He shrugs out of one strap of his backpack, swinging it around onto his lap and pulling out a small vase. James seems too distracted to have noticed your stupefaction.

“Do you have a sink around here?”

You point him towards the break room and he hurries off, returning a minute later to arrange your flowers in the vase.

“I know it might be silly,” he says, as he works with a care that belies his words, “but I was thinking that if I was stuck in one place all day, it might help me to have something nice to look at. I considered getting you a mirror, but I thought you may have grown used to that particular sight so I ought to mix it up.”

James glances up to catch your reaction to the last bit, dimples appearing when you fluster. As he sits back down, his gaze roams your workspace, largely empty as most of your coworkers have gone to lunch. He swivels the chair from side to side absentmindedly, his knees brushing yours with each pass. It feels like someone striking a match.

“I didn’t know you had so few windows in here.” He blows out a breath. “We should hit a park or something after you’re off tonight, get you some time in the sun.”

“That sounds nice,” you say, lifting the coffee in your hand to your lips reflexively.

It’s not until you register the taste that you think to look at the logo on the cup. It’s from your favorite coffee shop, the one with only one location, which you almost never go to because it’s so far from where you work and live.

“James,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “did you go all the way across town to get this?”

“Yeah.�� He smiles, tilting his head sideways to rest it on his palm. “That’s the one you like, right?”

“Yeah, but…” You shake your head, grinning. “You’re crazy,” you say, when you mean to say You’re incredible.

“Crazy for you.” He makes a disgusted face as he says it, laughing at himself. You can’t bring yourself to do the same.

You remember a time, not so long ago, when you would have felt lucky if the person you were dating responded to your texts at all. James has responded in person, with kind words and gifts and a thoughtfulness that’s going to brighten not just the rest of your day but your week. You’ve no idea what to do with this much sweetness.

You shake your head again. “Thank you. Seriously, I—this is too nice. You’re so—” You lean forward, running your forefinger over the stubble on his jaw as you peck him on the lips. His smile leaps up on his face. “You’re so sweet to me, Jamie. Thank you.”

“I don’t mind, sweetheart, really.” James palms the back of your elbow, his touch trailing down to your wrist as you pull away. “I like doing things for you. You deserve it.”

You smile at him, letting the sincerity in his voice warm your chest. “Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” you admit.

James’ expression heavies slightly, a divot forming in between his brows. You feel embarrassed for having said it. You don’t mean to sound self-pitying, you only want James to understand how much you appreciate him, how unprecedented he is for you.

He smooths his thumb over the hairs on your arm. “I want you to be happy,” he says, a carefulness to his words that’s so unlike his usual quick, energetic way of speaking. “Angel, I’ve got no reason to be anything but nice to you, because it makes me happy to see you happy. It’s like—” He glances away from your face for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Like I’m getting to see you the way you’re supposed to be, does that make sense?”

He looks to you for confirmation. You can only stare back at him in stunned silence, horrendously in love and falling deeper by the second. James must find whatever he’s looking for in your expression, though, because he gives your wrist a friendly squeeze and goes on.

“You’re supposed to be happy. You’re supposed to be treated nicely, no matter who you’re with, but I’m happy to be the person who gets to treat you that way.” He lifts his eyebrows as though to be sure you’re listening, lips quirking slightly. “And you’re nicer than nice to me, so I don’t want to hear any of this crap about bringing you flowers and a coffee being too nice. Got it?”

Your face is a furnace. You don’t know how to respond.

James grins, looking ten percent smug and ninety percent smitten. “Say okay, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you echo, unable to help breaking into a smile of your own. “Thanks.”

James groans. He grabs the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him until your knees are on either side of his. “Enough with the thanks,” he chides, more laughter than irritation in his tone. “Those other people sound like assholes, lovely. We’ve gotta up your standards.”

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chaldeanu · 3 days

Text

taste of home ノ aventurine

ꕤ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . requested by @yinyuedijun ノ i slightly changed the prompt as you said you’re okay with it. i couldn’t come up with any inspiration for an avgin dish, and anything else would require many many more words hehe so i just kept that “homemade” part. i hope you will enjoy the read! ♡

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 0.6k ノ gn reader — established relationship . soft bickering . making dinner ノ mostly domestic fluff but it’s aventurine so obviously a sprinkle of hurt comfort ノ vague mentions of his past

“you never eat at home.”

home sounds distant. aventurine is not used to hearing that word; he’s baffled at how easy it is for you to mention it in any conversation you spark with him.

“why should i? i have enough money to—”

“why shouldn’t you? just once in a while?” an offer, all you can muster with a shrug of your shoulders, knowing well that he would only get more defensive if you were to push him any further with a stern tone. “don’t you want at least to try?”

he doesn’t remember how the food he used to eat with his family tasted like. its memory mingled with the taste of blood, dirt, and dry rations he had to live on for some time. now that he thinks about it — now that you forced him to think about it — maybe that’s exactly why he wants to eat only fancy full-course meals at the finest restaurants. correct, he should get over this irrational fear, but it is so deeply ingrained in his core. an inseparable part.

“for someone so cocky, it’s almost weird to see how often you’re scared of trying new things.” you say it gently, holding his hand in between yours and caressing his knuckles with the soft pads of your thumbs.

“aww, don’t say that,” he chuckles. “you’re usually the one that runs away behind me when something startles you or asks me to do something for you, haha!”

“no?! i’m not. i’m doing fine on my own!” you huff, crossing your arms on your chest.

he grins and shakes his head at you. but it doesn’t look mischievous, not this time. even if you want to continue being stubborn, there’s no point in dragging out this silly argument that, frankly, is completely unrelated to the main topic. to which you return, with your gaze almost pleading.

“we barely used that table in the dining room since moving in here. i can make you something.”

he blinks a few times, tilting his head slightly to come up with a witty answer. but you ignore it, patting him to sit on the chair and yourself going into the kitchen.

to kill the remaining time, he plays with the cuffs of his shirt, picking off nonexistent lint from the silk, before he drops his shoulders down with a sigh. it feels good to just let the day pass, eyes unfocused at the glimmers of the afternoon sun dancing through the windows; he’s glancing at his phone every few minutes, ignoring replying to the messages from work despite them occupying his mind more than he would like to.

not even noticing when he hears your voice calling for him as you come back. the food smells great, and it makes him more nervous as he keeps staring at the dish you put in front of him.

you’re trying not to smile at the sight of him mouthing something under his nose, not sure what, but if you’re not mistaken, something along the lines of being too good for him or making him uncomfortable — or both. for whatever reason, you expected he would take it worse than this.

“you like it?”

“it’s fine.” there’s a pause when his throat ties into a knot, tears threatening to gather in the corner of his eyes.

unsurprising reaction. you sigh and get up from your seat, moving to the other side of the table to put a hand on his shoulder. with each reassuring rub, you take little steps until you’re behind him and your fingers slip into his hair, massaging the scalp in lazy circles.

“let me get my coffee. i will join you in a moment.” you kiss the top of his head and walk away.

and he’s thankful that he can swallow that unexpected surge of emotions without you sitting in front of him.

#—writing.#aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #star rail x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you

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satorusugurugurl · 3 days

Note

heyy!! how ru? soooo, i was thinking about jjk men found out that reader has problems with food, if you are okay with it, could you write it? if you r not its okay! you are a great writer and i love reading your stuff!! kisses!

JJK Men: When You Have an Issue With Food

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna

Word Count: 3,907

Warning: Themes of eating disorders, issues with food, negative body image, suggestiveness, fluff in the end

A/N: Thank you for the request, Nonnie! As someone who has struggled with issues regarding an eating disorder, this took me a bit of time to figure out, but I feel proud of it. Please seek out resources if you struggle as well! There are so many helpful resources that have helped me!

Gojo Satoru:

Satoru loved sweets. He developed his love in high school when stimulating his brain, which led to him developing a sweet tooth, so you could always count on him to bring home all sorts of sweets, which was nice. You enjoyed it until someone at work mentioned that it looked like you gained weight. You brushed it off at first, but it struck a nerve when she said you might lose your boyfriend if you continued eating the sweets. Did you put on a few pounds since you started dating Gojo? Was it all the sweets you had been enjoying with him?

The comment had you poking at your stomach in the mirror with a pout. That woman blatantly announcing their view in front of your coworkers was rude. It was embarrassing and had you questioning if Satoru had noticed if you gained weight. You need to stop indulging in sweets, or more people might start making comments about your weight. Or the worst-case scenario was that Satoru would leave you.

That same day, you went straight to the gym when you got home. You heard footsteps rushing to the door when you returned to your apartment. Satoru nearly tackled you as he kissed your cheeks repeatedly as you headed for the kitchen.

“Hi, Toru!” You giggled as Satoru shuffled with you into the kitchen, not once letting you go. “How did the mission go?”

“It was boring! I wish I could’ve brought you with me!” White strands of hair fly as he yanked his head away from your face. “But I brought you home some souvenirs.” He handed you a pink bag with a cute cat label. “Macaroons from France! This shop is known for its take on different flavors. Peanut butter and jelly blueberry and cinnamon roll. I bought one of every flavor for us to try.” His smile was wide and warm, leaving you feeling sick.

“Oh, thanks.” You placed the bag onto the counter with an evident frown. One Satoru saw your unenthusiastic reaction, and it made him pout.

“What’s wrong? You love macaroons.”

“I do. I just—” Nausea twisted in your stomach. “I can’t eat them anymore.”

The combination of ‘I do’ and ‘I can’t’ had Satoru reeling in stunned silence. “What do you mean you can't? Did you develop a macaroon allergy while I was gone?”

“No, I can’t keep eating sweets, Toru.”

Satoru could tell something had happened while he was gone. Usually, you jumped at the chance to try an exotic sweet he’d bring home. For you to be so dismissive wasn’t like you at all. He’d only been gone for a week, and suddenly, you had an aversion to sweets.

His fingers gently grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The second his eyes meet yours, he can feel your anguish. Tears glimmer in your eyes as a little hiccups sound in your chest. Seeing you in such a state had your boyfriend searching you for injuries only to realize it wasn’t on the surface but deeper.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and concern in his voice make you cry harder. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Satoru pulls you to the couch, sitting you directly on his lap.

“M-My c-co—“ si s wreck through you as you try to speak, “my coworker—”

“Your coworker what? Who do I need to Hollow Purple?”

Satoru runs his hands gently up and down your back, which is soothing. “They were asking if I gained wei—weight. A-And they said that I would lose you if I gained more.” His hands stopped moving, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“I’m sorry. What the fuck did you just say?”

You spilled your guts out, telling him everything from what they said to you to going to the gym. Never once amid your rant did he interrupt you. He just held you, pressing kisses against your tear-stained cheeks until you shuddered with a sigh once you were done.

“Baby, my sweet, beautiful girlfriend. Fuck them. Fuck those assholes; God, I hate people so much.” His hands grab your hips, making you straddle him to stare into his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful just the way you are. If you want different souvenirs, I’ll bring you something different. If you want me to bring you back, I will.” His hands gently stroke at your tear-stained cheeks. “But don’t let a bunch of assholes dictate what you can and can’t eat.”

Sincere cease the stream tears. “You think I’m perfect?” A smile graces your face, causing Satoru’s heart to flutter.

“Yes! I love you, whether you indulge in sweets or focus on going to the gym. Regardless of your choice, I’ll support you, whether I bring you home more treats or join you at the gym; say the word, and I’ll support you no matter what.”

You gently pressed your lips against him. To which he gladly reciprocated, holding you tight as you messily made out like horn-crazed teenagers. You happily munched on the macaroons Satoru brought home the next day at work when your phone rang. The woman who had commented on your weight, Tadashi, appears on the caller ID, making you roll your eyes

“Yes?” You asked, licking the crumbs off your lips.

“You have a delivery here in the front.”

You rush to the lobby and pass other assistant supervisors into the waiting room. The delivery man is hidden behind the arrangement of your favorite flowers. You melted as you stepped forward, the floral scent drawing you in.

“Hi, those are for me.” You helped your hands out to the vase.

“Yes, they are!” The flowers lowered, and your grind blindfold creased as he stared down at you.

“Toru?!”

“Just had to remind you how perfect and loved you are!” he placed the flowers down before rubbing his arms around you. “I also want hollow purple the assholes who hurt you.”

“No, Toru, please don’t do that.”

While murder was out of the question, Satoru decided on a different approach to let your coworkers know how much you were loved. He wrapped his arms around you before dipping you in front of all of your shitty coworkers just before kissing you. He made such a scene making out with you and grabbing your ass that you were left a blushing mess. He finally managed to pull away; he flipped off the woman who had made such terrible comments to you.

“Hope this proves that I’m never going anywhere.” he slaps your ass again, drawing a squeak from you. “She’s mine forever and always, no matter what!”

Nanami Kento:

Ever since high school, you have had a food issue. When you were a child, your grandparents often commented about you cleaning off your plate or having seconds. They would frequently call you chubby or warn you that man would like a woman who finished her meals before him.

Because of their comments, you never ate as much as you would like. Purposely leave as much food on your plate as possible without starving yourself. While the habit was unhealthy, it pleased your grandparents to the point they finally got off your back about your plate and weight. After their deaths, the harmful habit caused by their poisonous words scarred you your whole life.

No matter how hungry you were, you never finished your plate. A handful of the entire plate was eaten at every meal you ate. If you were still hungry, water helped with the lingering traces of hunger. Because of your seemingly peckish behavior, you were called a bird throughout high school and even into adulthood. You didn’t see it in a bad way. You were eating the way you did, which never bothered you. You were happy and content with your choices until you started dating Nanami Kento.

When he first asked you out, you thought the good-looking man was pulling a joke on you. Much to your relief, he was serious. He wanted to take you out for dinner and drinks, which you excitedly agreed to. Nanami took you to the best restaurants in town, and it was. You moaned as you ate until you had to force yourself to stop, as you were dangerously getting close to finishing your plate for the first time in years.

Your grandparents' words haunted you as you reluctantly put your spoon down. That was the first time he picked up on your issue. The way you assured him that you were full when your eyes still lingered on your food or how you moaned when you took a bite of the sweet dessert, going in for another spoonful only to freeze and drop your spoon.

Something didn’t seem right, but Nanami wouldn’t pry on the first date. Perhaps you weren’t that hungry, or you were nervous around him. There was no point in bringing it up right now. He wasn’t even sure if he’d get a second date.

But he got that second date and the third, and soon, he became your loving, doting boyfriend

A boyfriend who noticed you not cleaning your plate off wasn’t just a one-time occurrence but a habit of yours. No matter the meal, breakfast, lunch, or dinner, you never finished your plate. Even when you complained about how starving you were, you never ate until you were full.

You never looked satisfied whenever you ate; one would even say that you looked disappointed whenever your plate was taken away at restaurants. Or when you close the lid on your unfinished bento box. You wanted to eat, but something was preventing you from pushing past the limit you made for yourself

Nanami didn’t want to pry or embarrass you by bringing it up, but he could no longer hold his tongue after the two of you had gone to dinner. You stopped eating, and while he finished his meal, you chugged down an entire glass of water. Clearly, you were still hungry but not wanting to eat.

He decided he needed to bring up the manner in the comfort of his home, away from watchful eyes. So Nanami invited you to his condo for a homemade dinner featuring your favorite meal.

It was so good. The flavors were perfect, mouthwatering, and nearly orgasmic. You moaned eagerly, shoving more food into your mouth, losing yourself in the delicious meal made by loving hands; Nanami watched you while sipping on his wine, watching you eat until you stopped eating like always. The disappointment was evident on your face as you reluctantly put your fork down.

Now was the time to act.

“Darling, is the food not to your liking?” A sense of dread burned in your stomach as you looked up from your half-full plate at your boyfriend

“No, it was good! I’ve never tasted something so tasty.”

Nanami placed his wine glass down, licking his bottom lip. “ Are you just not hungry?” You shook your head, cheeks burning. “Then why don’t you eat more Love? You clearly want to.”

“But I don’t wanna lose you—”

Not expecting that to be your answer, Kento pulled his chair to your side, sat down, and gently grabbed your hands. You flushed as he brought them towards his mouth, pressing gentle kisses against your knuckles. Your boyfriend looked so distraught over your answer as if it had wounded him to the soul.

“Why do you think that? Have I made you feel if you were to finish your food, that would result in me leaving you? If I made you feel that way, I’m sorry.”

“Ken, no, no, wait a second.” Your fingers squeezed around his hand. “You didn’t do anything remotely close to making me feel that way.”

“Then why do you think you’d lose me if you were to finish a meal in front of me?”

Swallowing at the lump of dread in your throat, you sighed. “Well, it’s something my grandparents always used to say.” You told him everything about their crude remarks and terrible advice. You also confessed that despite their passing, their words still haunted you, making it hard for you to finish meals.

“That has to be the most asinine bullshit I’ve ever heard.” Kento snapped, irritation carved into his features. “People are so cold and cruel. They don’t understand that words can impact a person for the entirety of their lives.”

“Kento—”

“I can assure you that I would rather you finish your plate than starve yourself. Food is one of the many joys in life that is better shared and company.” He closed the small distance between you. “If you finish your plate, I won’t be disgusted or turned off. I promise you it’s the opposite; seeing you happy and enjoying yourself makes me happy.”

“It does?”

“You always look so happy when you eat something you like.” Nanami picked up your fork and is holding it out for you. “So please don’t let the cruel words of terrible people dictate how you live your life. I won’t be leaving anytime soon, so please eat as much as you’d like.”

Hearing those words from him, the man who stole your heart, made your soul soar. Confirming that your grandparents were terrible people and that he wouldn’t leave you left you feeling overjoyed. Like you had been set free. It was like Kento had taken bolt cutters to the chains wrapped around you for years. That rush of relief had you eating more food off your plate with a happy hum.

You ate all the food off your plate for the first time in years. Nanami grinned as he gently stroked your head, elated to you, so happy and satisfied. Seeing you in such a euphoric state delighted him; words could not describe it. Nanami Kento was falling hard for you, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU):

“Big bro!” Sukuna Thomas is a slice of toast on Yuuji’s plate. “Bro!” The smaller boy pouts at his brother, who ultimately ignores him, tossing a butter knife into the sink. “Brother!”

“What?!” Sukuna snaps, running a hand down. His little brother is unfazed by his tone, happily munching away on the toast he had prepared for him.

“Big sis forgot her lunch again!” Yuuji always referred to you as his big sister, even though you were dating his older brother. Sukuna made a mental note to discuss calling you by either your last name or first name, whatever you preferred, when you got home from work.

“No, I handed it to her,” Sukuna is about to call Yuuji a brat for lying when he spots your Bento box wrapped in a cherry blossom cloth on the entrance table by the front door. He swears you’d lose your head if it weren't attached to your body. This was the third time you had forgotten your lunch this week. “Dumb little brat.” he snatches it off the entrance table to put it back in the fridge for you. “She’d if it wasn’t for delivery services and convenience stores. Always forgetting her shit.”

“She didn’t forget it.” Yuuji’s addition has his brother shutting the door to the fridge to box still in hand.

“The hell you mean she didn’t forget it?”

The smell of sterilized wipes makes your empty stomach twist. Maybe the fasting and the protein shake in the morning weren't cutting it anymore. This meant you would have to eat a bit more, which was something you didn’t want to do. Not when your beach trip with Sukuna and the boys was around the corner.

“Hey.” One of your coworkers tapped her knuckles on the door of the exam room you were cleaning. “Once you’re done here, you can take your lunch if you want.”

“Lunch?” You laugh, pulling your gloves off and tossing them in the trashcan. “If you count a protein shake as lunch, I’ll take it.”

“Oh,” your coworker covered her mouth, “ I think I just ruined the surprise.” Surprise? What the hell was she talking about? “Your boyfriend is in the lobby with your lunch.”

Oh fuck.

Without another word, you rushed through the office, heading to the lobby. Sukuna stood by the front desk with a scowl over his tattooed face. He was pissed, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to face him, but the plot to hide vanished the second his crimson eyes shot in your direction.

A chill ran down your spine as the sheer coldness in his gaze had you frozen in your spot until he motioned for you to come over with his index and middle finger. You approached him, smoothing out your scrubs, avoiding eye contact at all costs, which lasted for a second before Sukuna could use his fingers to lift your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Let’s take a walk.” The sharpness of his tone left no room for discussion

“Okay.”

He at least waited until he was outside to turn and glare down at you. You would have to thank him for that. “Care to explain how you forgot your lunch?” His jaw is clenched, and the veins are popping out of his neck as he attempts to hold back his anger.

“I uh—”

“And before you even think about telling me ‘you forgot’ for the third time this week, long and hard about how you wanna answer my question.”

“I left it behind.”

Sukuna nodded with a scoff. “So does this mean you haven’t forgotten your lunch all week, or have you purposely left it behind?” You give him a guilt-ridden nod. “Why?” His being short and questioning your motives was exactly how you imagined his reaction if he found out what you were doing.

“Because of my diet.”

“Diet, the fuck you mean your diet?”

Your cheeks burn as he repeats the word diet ten more times as if repeating it will help him understand your reasoning. Sukuna listens to you sigh in defeat before sitting on the fountain's edge in front of the medical complex where you work. His frustration blinded him so much that he didn’t notice how you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth or how your leg bounced anxiously.

He sat down, putting your bento box off to the side. “Why are you skipping meals on this ‘diet’?” The bastard was using air quotes now.

“My coworker showed it to me. Two meals with protein shakes and eat only one big meal or day I could tone up.”

“So you’re basically ‘starving’ yourself to tone up?”

“Can you stop using air quotes?”

“I will once you tell me why you’re skipping meals for the shitty diet you don’t even need to be on. If you want to focus on your health and getting toned up, do it. I’ll go to the gym and show you how to use the machines. I’ll even spot you. But so that you know, I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

“You’re obligated to say that because you’re my boyfriend.” Your attitude in your tone has said boyfriend glaring daggers. “You’re muscular and buff, and I’m—“ you pout, “ I’m just me.”

“Yeah, and I want you, all of you.” He’s getting fed up with the piss-poor attitude you have going on. “What’s with the self-hate.”

Sukuna was expecting more attitude or possibly the silent treatment, but you didn’t; instead, it was quiet as your delicate fingers rubbed against your pants. “I-I bought a new swimsuit for the trip to the beach and—” your boyfriend perked up, interest peaked. “And it’s a little snug in some places.”

“Snug?”

“Yeah.” When you first got the swimsuit, you saw nothing wrong with it, but a friend of yours pointed out that your bottoms were a bit snug in the ass region—seeing that your beach trip was two weeks away, your coworker recommended the not-so-awesome diet you were on since you wanted to tone up; because if your friend thought it was snug. You could only imagine what your boyfriend would think. “I just wanna look good for you.”

“Oi.”

“Ye-mph!” Just as you turned to look at him, he shoved the tip of a rice ball into your mouth.

“I need to see you in those bottoms.” There was a certain cuteness with how he puffed his cheeks out as you eagerly chewed on the rice ball. Once you finish swallowing, you grab it by the end and pull it out, holding the remainder of it in your hand

“You want to see?”

“Of course, why the fuck would you listen to some nobody? Let me see them, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

That was the last thing you wanted, but you knew he wouldn’t let this go until you did. Taking another bite of the delicious rice ball, you sighed in defeat. “I’ll show you, Sukuna,” He flicked his finger against your forehead. “What was that for?!” He shoved the second rice ball into your mouth, silencing you.

“For being a dumbass, eat your lunch and bring those bottoms back to my apartment.” He pressed a kiss against your cheek. “I gotta get back to work, but don’t forget I love you the way you are. Please don’t starve yourself because you assume I wouldn’t like something on you.”

You ate all your lunch while dreading the mere thought of him seeing you in the bottoms, which your friend had deemed too tight. The anxiety of what was to come had your day flying by, and before you knew it, you were peeking your head out of the bathroom of Sukuna’s apartment. Your boyfriend sat on the edge of the bed, watching you closely.

“Promise you’ll be honest. I’m dead serious, Kuna.”

“Promise.” When you stepped out of the bathroom, Sukuna’s eyes widened at the sight of the tight red bottoms you wore. They were snug and all the right ways. They were hugging your hips and the curve of your ass perfectly. The color complimented your skin tone. You were so fucking perfect. Your friend must have told you that your bottoms look too snug because they were jealous of you.

Sukuna stood up, crowding you against the wall, inhaling sharply as you hit the cool wall. Your tattooed boyfriend sunk to his knees, his lips and teeth nipping at your thighs up to the curve of your hips. The warmth of his mouth, how you gasped, your hands gripping the pink tufts of hair.

“Kuna.”

“Throw those fucking shakes away, babe. These are perfect.” His voice was muffled as he nipped harder at your skin.

“You don’t think they’re too snug?”

“No, they're perfect.” He whispered, drawing closer and closer to your core. “Now, let's have our own little experiment. I wanna see how well they do—” crimson eyes meet your panting flushed face, “when they’re wet.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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ddarker-dreams · 1 day

Note

blade literally pouting until you come back and kafka immediately assigns you the job of cheering him up

"..."

"...?"

"..."

upon returning from your latest job, blade instantly took to acting as your second shadow. this, in and of itself, isn't unusual. you stopped questioning this habit long ago, as it clearly pleases him. what you do find unusual is the unnerving stare he's currently directing your way.

"... is something wrong?"

after a second that seemingly lasted forever, he shakes his head.

"hm," you hum, placing a finger to your cheek in thought. "this isn't fair, y'know. your poker face is so convincing that i almost believed you."

he crosses his arms over his chest. "what would you have me say?"

"plenty of things!" you exclaim, to which he grimaces, realizing his mistake a moment too late. "that you think i'm just the cutest thing ever, how much you've missed me, all your thoughts, feelings, deepest, darkest desires— mmf!"

blade's gloved hand covers your mouth, putting a premature end to your tirade.

"are you finished?" he deadpans.

you nod.

he considers you at length before releasing you, muttering under his breath about you being a 'lousy liar.' you notice how his gaze lingers on your lips. a brief flicker dances within his eyes, hinting at the fervor he constantly battles to contain.

suddenly, it dawns on you.

"oh!"

you close the distance with an apologetic smile. "i did forget something important, didn't i?"

standing on your tiptoes, you steady yourself by wrapping your arms behind his neck. out of habit, his hands find your hips, securing you further. your lips almost connect — before mischief gets the better of you. you change you destination to his cheek, planting a chaste kiss there.

he blinks, slowly processing what's just occurred.

you prepare for a swift escape.

blade, however, foresees your intentions, and tightens his grip. effectively trapped, you squirm in place, chuckling nervously to dispel the building tension.

“close, but not quite,” he scolds. then, he lowers his voice to a whisper. “try again.”

#this version of blade gets his own tag now.#bf blade #blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade brainrot #answered #Anonymous

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eideticallys · 3 days

Text

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now.

Who’s that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me? I’m right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate.

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped.

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under.

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

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sonarspace · 2 days

Text

sharing

synopsis: in which geto shares his girlfriend with his roommates. content: nsfw (foursome, kinda). (geto x gojo x nanami x reader) wc: 1.7k a/n: tried something new. i hope you like it! (not proofread)

sitting on the couch on geto’s lap, your face hidden in his neck as his fingers move up your leg under the blanket. you grab his hand to stop his movements but he doesn’t.

his fingers lightly move over your shorts, his knuckles swiping against your clothed pussy. you bite into his neck as the urge to moan overwhelms you.

"they'll see," you whisper into his ear. he turns his face towards them. his two roommates sitting on the other side of the couch. a blanket drapped over their legs. their focus was on the tv but geto could see gojo's hand moving under the blanket and over nanami's crotch.

nanami's eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting up as he quickly glances at gojo's blank face. he turns his face back to the tv and rest his head back on the couch. geto chuckles under his breath, "i think they're too occupied to notice."

confused you pull your face out of his neck and see what geto's talking about. nanami's breathing heavily — gasping every few minutes at the hand rubbing over his hardening cock. gojo turns his face and meets your eyes — a slow smirk curving up his lips.

your legs tighten around geto's hand. “wanna join?” gojo cocks his head. nanami's head snaps towards you and his expression quickly turns into one of pleasure when gojo slips his hand under his shorts. your face warms, a blush creeping up your neck. you gulp and look back at your boyfriend. “i can take you back to our room. or we can take satoru up on his offer. whatever you want baby.” he gives you the choice.

“can we just watch them for now?” your voice only audible to your boyfriend’s ears. he smiles against your cheek and nods. “go ahead satoru. give us a show.” geto drawls with a smirk.

and god does gojo give you a show. geto’s dick hard as ever and your panties so wet they were sticking to you like latex. gojo’s on his knees in front of nanami, face buried and tongue poking out to slicken his balls and cock with his saliva.

gojo pulls back from underneath and rest his face on nanami’s plush thigh, eyeing you and geto. pumping nanami’s thick veiny cock with a teasing smile. nanami’s lips parted and slipping out a mix of shaky breaths and moans.

geto’s hand moving over your clit stops and his breath hitches when nanami cums – his one hand gripping geto’s outstretched foot and other in gojo’s hair pulling his strands.

“suguru,” you whine loud enough that all three men’s attention is on you. your eyes flutter close in pleasure and he picks up the pace once more. his finger movies over your bundle of nerves, paying special attention to your clit. you cum with shy whimpers in his neck.

“no need to be shy,” nanami speaks up, a mocking grin plastered on his face. you pull away from your boyfriend’s neck to face to them. they’re both watching you so intensel – as if they wanted to devour you.

“can i taste your girlfriend suguru?” gojo asks. geto looks at you for permission. you nod your head in agreement. your heart picks up a beat in excitement as gojo moves closer to where you’re sitting on geto’s lap.

“i’m not going to bite,” gojo jokes. you lay back on geto’s chest and he grasps your hand, rubbing his thumb over it to keep you calm. you’re acutely aware of their attention on you as your glistening cunt comes into view. gojo and nanami gasp in unison.

“i want a taste too,” nanami requests. you hum in agreement as gojo peppers kisses up your thigh. licking at your bikini line. you huff out a whine as his tongue moves up and down your cunt. messy.

his lips finally closes around your clit and your jerk further into his mouth. you can feel his smile as he sucks your clit fervently. overwhelmed with pleasure you don't realize when your hand moves under geto’s boxers – until he’s squirming behind you.

gojo's on a mission as he continues moving his tongue from your hole to your clit – licking hungrily and moaning at your taste. gojo moves aside - enough so that nanami could join him. you gasp as your legs are stretched further open for them.

feeling both their tongues on your pussy has the coil in your stomach tighten. nanami’s loud as he licks and pecks your clit. groaning out a “she’s so sweet” to which gojo replies “sweetest thing i’ve tasted in a while, no wonder suguru’s pussy whipped.” both of them break out in a light chuckle, face still buried in your cunt.

geto wraps a hand around your neck. grabbing your face and pulling you in a deep kiss. his tongue moving in tandem with yours – both of you moaning into each other’s mouths. you continue jerking him off and gojo joins in on the fun by palming at geto’s balls – massaging them teasingly making geto moan an elongated “fuckkkk,” and “keep going”.

your hand starts to loosen its grip as gojo and nanami’s tongues move over you in sync but gojo’s hand wraps around yours – pumping his leaky cock with you. you can’t tell who’s tongue is pushing deep into your hole and who’s tongue is flicking your nub – you bet they're both taking turns.

geto’s lips continue to move over yours. overstimulated from all the lips on your body – you’re cumming with a loud moan and legs shaking around the two men below.

you can still feel their lips and tongue on you as they slowly pull away and get lost in their own kiss. gojo’s huffing and groaning into the kiss as nanami pulls out his hardened length – covered in so much pre cum you’d think he already came.

nanami starts pumping him and pushing him back to sit on the couch. moving down his neck leaving a red bite mark under his jaw, kissing over his clothed nipples and making him buck his hips in his grip. he pushes out his tongue and licks his tip and gojo hisses out a “fuckk ken baby, take it easy”. but he’s too lost in pleasuring gojo to hear that and takes him down his throat with ease.

you continue to pump geto and his cum covers your hand. gojo’s eyes snap towards your cum covered hand and he licks his lips in anticipation. his gaze holds yours as you move a finger into your mouth and suck oh so sensually – chest rising and eyes shutting.

it has him hitting the back of nanami’s throat and making the blond man gag. you move out of geto’s arms and close to gojo. squishing his cheeks to make his lips pucker and you let a line of cum fall onto his lips. you pull him into a kiss and he hums at the taste of geto.

you feel geto’s hand on your ass as he spreads your legs apart and licks a stripe from your one to hole to another. you jerk at the sensation and gojo grabs your shoulders to keep you steady and continues kissing you, licking geto’s cum off your tongue.

he bites your lip as he pulls back and shoots a load of his own cum down nanami’s throat. tugging his hair and pulling him into the kiss. geto pulls back and joins your kiss. four tongues mingling with one and another – sharing gojo’s salty but unusually sweet cum.

you pull away and turn to your boyfriend. he licks your lips.. top…bottom. and as soon as you poke out your tongue he’s sucking it into his mouth. your salivas meshing together. “bedroom, please” you speak into the kiss. and he’s carrying and walking upstairs towards his bedroom immediately.

you see the two men still going at it – lost in their own pleasure. palming at each other trying to get rid of any layers that are keeping them apart. both letting out loud groans, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

geto lays you down on the bed. pulling off your shirt and kissing down your body so sweetly. muttering praises into your skin “my sweet baby did so well” with an emphasis on my.

you mewl when he kisses between your legs. “shh, i’ve got you now,” he coos. he places your legs around his waist and lines himself up with you. “just want you suguru, only you..” you whisper in awe of his figure above you. his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

he pushes into you – his head cocks back in pleasure. feeling your warmth surround his cock and he lets out a loud whimper. you claw at his chest at the feeling of his cock nudging deeper into your core. moving in and out. sounds of your pussy squeezing around him emanating loudly into the room.

he falls over you. his hand squeezing yours as he pushes it up next to your head. dipping his face down to kiss you. and he keeps his lips on yours as he picks up the pace. his hips rutting into yours. you lock your legs behind his back – pulling him in impossibly closer. skin to skin.

he moves a hand down to your clit, spelling his name over your nub. you giggle at the realization. and he smiles gazing into your eyes. you cum once more and milk him in the process. you moan in satisfaction as ropes of his cum reach deep inside you.

he falls on top of you. his body weight comforting. you move a hand into his hair, scratching lightly. “how do you feel?” he checks in with you – knowing that this was an unexplored territory for you. “did you like it? was it too much?” he adds.

“i don’t know,” you hum in thought. “I mean i feel good. it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was just new and i guess i’ve never seen them that way,” you say honestly. “would you wanna do it again?” he asks curiously.

“not sure. i like it when it’s just us. but if you want to, i think i don’t mind trying. i know you’ve done…” you leave the sentence unfinished. he chuckles lightheartedly “heh, baby. i just want you. i like it when it’s just us, too,” he smiles against your lips.

you’re about to kiss when you hear one of them – no, both of them moan each other’s names loudly. you both break out in laughter. they’re going to be getting lots of noise complaints come morning.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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jaylaxies · 1 day

Text

HARD THOUGHT !

pairing: jake x fem!reader

cw: smut, daddy kink, manipulation, corruption kink, usage of nicknames.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

a/n: hihi i got a lil carried away w this one! it’s inspired by these two asks here and here! :3 reposting this cause it got community labelled!

Jake is sweet, almost too sweet to be true and that’s why you trust him blindly with everything. The way he never hesitates to give you prolonged hugs, the way his eyes always provide you with comfort and his words sound like sweet melody to you, it’s a given fact that you won’t want anyone else to teach you how to kiss but your best friend Jake, you simply want to be good for your crush, Heeseung, and so you most certainly didn’t wish to be totally clueless when it comes to such things.

Jake was more than willing to help, “of course i'll help, we don’t want Heeseung to be unsatisfied now, do we?” He’d chuckle, hating the fact that you wanted to do it for another man, yet he had his own ways to keep you close to him, one being-providing you help for his own benefit. “But Jake, won’t it be wrong if I use you for this?” You’d ask, genuine concern plastered on your face and he finds it cute how you think it’s you who’s using him, when in reality, it’s quite the opposite.

“Oh, princess. You don’t have to worry about it, I just want to help you,” he’d smile, making you feel at ease as he starts proceeding with his plan, the first step—kissing.

He’d pat his lap, making your eyes go wide but you’d follow and sit on his lap, straddling him on the couch as his big hands would hold you in place and he’d ask you to kiss him, smiling when you lean in for a delicate peck, groaning when he bites your lip, eliciting a weak moan out of you.

“Jake—” you’d whimper, unknowingly pressing your clothed cunt on his hardening cock, feeling a newfound feeling erupt in your lower abdomen, even more so when he cups your cheek, tilting your face to get a better access to your lips, his plush ones serenading you like there’s no tomorrow, “that’s not what you should call me, princess,” he mutters.

Your eyes widen, looking up at him in question, “Heeseung would love it if you call him daddy,” he smirks, “say it, baby.” He’d urge you, throwing Heeseung’s name to strengthen his case. “D—daddy?” You’d whisper, allowing him to caress your swollen lips. “That’s right, princess. You’re such a good girl for me.” He makes sure to take his time kissing you dumb that night, to the point you lose your sleep, clutching your chest as the vivid images of Jake come back to your mind, you wanted more.

And each day, he taught you more, touching the expanse of your body, getting rid of your clothes turn by turn. The wetness returned each time you tried something new with him, your body felt as if it was on fire as he pushed you into your subspace in all the right ways.

“Daddy!” You moaned, gripping the bed sheet when he tasted your wetness for the first time, his warm breath made it tingle to the point you were shivering. “That’s it babygirl, just trust daddy, yeah?” He said against your folds, accent deeper than ever as he immersed himself in eating you out, giving you your very first orgasm.

You were dazed, wanting more and more. Then came the day you finally saw his cock, his eyes staring at you with such intensity as you could only look at his veiny, leaking cock with innocent and curious eyes.

He grunted when you held him, “you’re doing so well, princess. So good for daddy,” he lets out, holding the back of your head gently as you continued to do just as he directed, smiling once he fills your mouth as his thick cum spurts out on your tongue, making you want to gulp it down, “wanna be so good for daddy always.” You’d smile, forgetting about why you were doing this in the first place, Heeseung wasn’t the one you thought about these days, rather, it was your daddy Jake.

“Tell me what you want, princess?” He’d ask with a sweet smile, which almost looked like a smirk, “daddy,” you’d cry out, “want y—your cock in m—me, I can't wait anymore,” you’d tell him as he’d kiss your tears away, “daddy will give you everything you want, babygirl,” he’d pat your head lovingly despite being in such a compromising position, his tip rubbing on your entrance. He doesn’t rush, he loves seeing you squirm, blabbering out words which do not make sense just because you’re so enraptured by the man on top of you—your daddy who’s more than willing to provide you with everything you need.

He loves it, how fucked up his princess looks with her smudged lipstick and mascara running down her cheeks with her crystalline teardrops, which keep on flowing with the immense pleasure you receive. He loves that he’ll get to fuck you, that his cock will be the first to enter your prettiest cunt, which is his and his only. You were reliant upon him for pleasure, nothing else felt good without your daddy and when he finally gave you the taste of his cock buried deep in your pussy, it felt more pleasurable than it hurt.

“Daddy—” you whisper, eyes closing as you let him take over and kiss you, his hands all over your body, as if he had memorized you completely, touching the most sensitive spots as he thrusted even harder in your leaking pussy, your walls squeezing his cock to the point he couldn’t help but groan out, “so wet for daddy’s cock, yeah? You like it, baby? That’s my good fucking girl, all mine.” He’s right, you’re all his now and you won’t want it otherwise, making a creamy mess on his cock.

Your mind fuzzy with his thoughts through and through, ruining your innocence as he moulded your brain in such a way that you couldn’t help but yearn for him.

And just like that, Jake had successfully corrupted you to the point of no comeback.

#ria:thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #kpop smut #enha smut #jake smut #jake hard hours #jake x reader

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nanaslutt · 1 day

Text

Distractions (zayne x reader)

ʚ cont: fem reader, teasing, nipple play, dry humping, dirty talk, no acc smut but lots of tension and grinding heh

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

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

Thinking about sitting on Zayne's lap while he tells you about his day, his hands relaxed on your thighs, strong thumbs rubbing soothing circles on against your. Your hands are lazily hanging behind his shoulders, arms stretched out on his neck. And you're trying so hard to listen to what he's saying, but he just had to opt out of wearing a shirt after his shower, the impressive muscles of his chest and abdomen on full display for you.

So you nod your head, picking up his words and mumbling out little, "mhmm"'s ever so often so he doesn't stop talking about the cardiac procedure he performed today. You draw your arms back, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the indents of his muscles along them, memorizing the feeling of his body subconsciously.

Zayne hasn't caught on to your touches yet, so used to having your hands on him. He tips his head up a bit and lets his eyes wander to a painting hanging behind the TV as he retells his story, recalling how it all went down while trying to word it in a way that was understandable to non-prestigious, brilliant babies.

You lick your bottom lip as you drag your hands lower now, slowly sliding down the slopes of his chest, running your soft fingers across his prominent collarbones. Zayne looked back to you now, a little more aware of your movements, but not enough to see through your distraction and pick up on how you were caressing him intentionally. You shifted your weight a bit, scooting up on his thighs as you let your eyes drop down to your hands which were getting even lower still.

Zayne's words came to a small, barely noticeable pause when you dragged them lower, over the top set of his abdominal muscles just under his pecs. The doctor knew about your love of physical touch, so he tried to refrain from calling you out as he continued speaking, clearing his throat before starting up again.

Pulling back your hands from his body entirely, you let your eyes find his, which were once again looking behind you at the painting as he found his words. You smiled to yourself as you angled your hands a bit upward from where they last were, placing them on his chest directly, your palms covering his nipples. You let your hands drag ever so lightly down his chest, your fingers just beginning to touch his nipples when suddenly your movement was being restricted. Before you were pulled away, you swore you felt Zayne's body jerk under yours, a small gasp leaving his lips at the soft touch.

You stilled, your arms tensing as you peeked up to find Zayne looking down at you, his breathing a little more ragged as he held your wrists in his large hands. Not a hard grip, but tight enough that you wouldn't be able to wiggle out. "Continue with your story, doctor." You insisted, tilting your head to the side and giving him a small, innocent smile.

Zayne looked down at his chest before he found your eyes once more. It was then that you noticed something you didn't before. "It seems like someone is a bit too distracted to listen to my story." He said quietly, his eyes looking more lidded and dazed than before. You rocked back a bit, finding that familiar hardness under your ass, making your own breathing pick up.

"Why did you ask about my day if you weren't even going to listen?" He whispered, keeping your hands restrained as he leaned forward, his face suddenly much closer to yours, making you hyperaware of his movements. You writhed again on top of him, a movement that make Zayne suck in a sharp breath through his teeth, followed by a shaky exhale.

"If you were bored, you should've told me." He said again, placing your hands back against his chest, his hands still around your wrist. You gave his chest a squeeze, making little circles on his pecs with your fingers, using what little mobility you had. "I would've welcomed a more interesting series of events after my shower if talking was too boring for you," Zayne said, his heart pounding quickly against his ribs, shaking your hand that splayed over it.

"I wasn't bored. Your tits just looked a little lonely." You joked, biting your lip in a smile as you gave his chest a couple of squeezes. In an instant, you were on your back against the length of the couch, your legs forced around Zayne's hips as he pushed his pelvis flush with yours. Your hands were pinned down against the cushion next to your head, as you squeezed your hands together, looking up at him while heaving air into your lungs.

"They aren't, "tits" and I'm more observant than you think. Especially when it comes to you." Zayne said, emphasizing his words with a slow but firm push of his hips, pressing himself fully against where you wanted him the most. You sucked in a desperate breath, something between a gasp and a whine before he pulled back, releasing some of that friction between your legs that you were already starting to miss.

Zayne smiled before he leaned down close to you, his breath tickling your ear as he pressed his lips against the shell of it. "You wanted something more like this? Didnt you?" He teased, rolling his hips against you again. You were unable to fight back the whine that left your lips as he repeated the same movement a few more times, his hands tightening against your wrist as he listened to the sounds that left your throat, making his brain feel like mush.

"Tell me what you really want, and I might just give it to you," he whispered again, this time biting the shell of your ear after his words left him, making you whine and squeeze your legs around him. Zayne groaned into your ear, his hips stuttering as you forced him to press against you tighter. "Zayne... I want you." You whispered, feeling blood rush to your face. Zayne rolled his hips harder as if praising you for speaking up, but it wasn't enough.

Swallowing your pride you bit your lip before you leaned your head up and licked a stripe up his neck, ending in a kiss. Zayne's mouth opened as a shaky gasp left his lips. "Fuck me, doctor, please. I need it." You whispered, kissing a trail down his neck. Zayne sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose, feeling his cock twitch against you before you pulled back, leaning your head back against the couch.

"So you can tell me what you want?" Zayne responded, releasing your hands before he sat up, sliding his hands under your shirt. You let him pull your top off, your tits already falling out of your bra from how he had jostled your around. You looked like a hot mess already as you lay breathing heavily under him, your legs wrapped around his waist. Zayne reached a single hand forward and found your nipple that had spilled from your shirt.

He pressed against it first before he started rubbing the bud in circles, feeling it harden under his hand. "Good girl." He praised, pinching the sensitive bud and making you squeeze your eyes shut. "Thats it. I'll take care of you. Such a good girl."

#zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne #dr zayne #zayne smut #zayne x you #lnds zayne #zayne x mc #doctor zayne #lads #lads smut #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut

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