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altruisticalastor · 3 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Wife!Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Lucifer gets a little too brazen with Alastor's darling wife. Guess the Ruler of Hell would just have to learn a lesson about who you belong to.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, jealous!alastor, soft comforting shower sex, knotting, alastor has a tail, consent, making out, soft kisses, biting, marking kink, alstor laps up the readers blood because he bites a liiiitle too hard, creampie, banter between alastor and lucifer, as well as banter between the reader and angel

☒ Word Count: 1,972

Alastor was quite the jealous type.

You were his wife in life and death. To say he was protective of you was an understatement. So, it only made sense that Alastor would lose his composure when the ruler of hell himself arrived at the Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer was a rather charming man, but you were spoken for. So when he grasped your hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your palm, your hand yanked away in the blink of an eye. You could have sworn you heard a crackling growl escape your husband's lips as he watched Lucifer offer you a lustful gaze- and that was simply unacceptable.

"I see you've met my wife!" Alastor let out a forced chuckle as he looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. You let out a sigh of relief. All thanks to your husband's rescue. Lucifer gave Alastor a pointed look before he blurted out, "You're joking... right?" He scoffed.

Your face scrunched up in anger at Lucifer's rude remark. "Oh, he's as serious as a heart attack." You spat, snaking your own arm around Alastor's back. You squeezed his waist, a habit of yours that let your dear husband know when you were livid.

"But- look at you! You're gorgeous, sweetheart, and he's just... freaky." You were about to snap back before your husband's maniacal laughter tore through the room. "Ha Ha! That's rich coming from the short stack!" Alastor quipped, grip tensing around your waist. Lucifer's chest puffed up in defense before he let out an airy laugh.

"Aha! The height I lack up here, I surely make up for below the belt! Maybe I can show your wife sometime." Lucifer shot you a playful wink, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. Alastor tensed beside you before he let out another forced laugh, ducking low to get in Lucifer's face. "Ha Ha! Fuck you." Your husband spat, voice missing its usual radio static tone.

Before the situation could escalate further, Charlie intervened. Pushing her father away from the tense atmosphere while mouthing a sympathetic "Sorry!" your way. The aura in the room was stiff. You could certainly cut the tension with a butter knife. "Damn, smiles! Looks like lil' Luci himself has got eyes for your girl!" Angel stated before taking a swig of his cocktail.

You turned your head in Angel's direction. Shooting him a warning glare. The last thing you wanted was for Angel to get caught in the crossfire of your husband's anger. Alastor remained quiet before he slowly began walking toward the staircase. You could tell he was seething with how his ears twitched atop his head. Your husband flickered up the steps without a word, making you worry.

"Damn it, Angel! You knew he was pissed enough as is, no need to poke the bear!" You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way over to the bar. Husk poured you a drink, shaking his head in agreement. "Dont'cha mean poke the deer?" Angel chuckled, patting your back in a lighthearted manner. Husk cursed under his breath at Angel's remark.

"Cut that shit out, or he'll put you on his next fuckin' broadcast," Husk grumbled, cleaning a glass with a worn-down rag. You sipped your drink before rubbing your temples once more, shaking your head in annoyance. "I should probably go check in on him..." You spoke to yourself before turning on your heel, waving a small goodbye to your two good buddies.

"She's in for a loooong night!" Angel giggled, causing Husk to flick his forehead as a warning to "Shut the fuck up."

You took a breath before carefully opening your shared bedroom door. "Darling?" You called out, descending further into the space as you scanned the room for your husband. You peacefully made steps toward your private bathroom, having heard the shower running from beyond the door. To your luck, the door was left unlocked, making it easy for you to slip inside.

The bathroom was full of steam as your eyes trailed to the red tufts of hair reflecting through the clear glass shower door. Alastor heard you come in, but he still remained silent. Trying his best to cool off. He hated losing his composure more than anything. Carefully, you began ridding yourself of your garments, leaving your clothes in a pile beside Alastor's. You slid the glass door open, stepping into the shower with your husband.

Alastor's ears were pinned against his head as he stood underneath the shower head, allowing the water to cascade down his face. His back was toward you. Your husband's hands were placed in front of him on the cold tiles. Keeping him stabilized. "Al, my love? Is it alright if I touch you?" You whispered softly from where you stood behind him. A moment passed before he nodded in agreement, still remaining silent.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him. Allowing your hands to caress his midsection all the way up his chest. You rested your head in between his shoulder blades, pressing your chest flush against his back. Alastor let out a deep sigh, your touch bringing him much-needed comfort. "That impudent man.." Your husband muttered, ears twitching in annoyance as he did so. You rubbed circles into his chest, placing gentle kisses against his back.

"He's a jerk, Al. I'm all yours, forever and always," Your lips curled into a smile toward the end of your sentence as you felt his tail wagging, brushing against your lower tummy. Your husband's shoulders eased up from your words. He let out a breath before turning on his heel. Alastor's hands immediately cupped your face, doubling over to capture your lips with his. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands rubbing your husband's sides lovingly as your mouths molded perfectly against one another.

Your shared embrace lasted a few beats longer before your husband pulled back, half-lidded crimson eyes gazing down at you. "Indeedy, my doe. You're all mine! I suppose I'll have to make it evident to the short stack... and anyone else who dares to court you." His voice dipped low; as did his wandering hands. Alastor's pointed nails dug into the back of your thighs as he hoisted you up. On instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist.

A pleasant gasp escaped you as you felt your husband's hard length brush against your core. Alastor let out a deep growl against the nape of your neck as he nipped at the sensitive flesh there. "Alastor..." You whined. Tipping your head back so your husband could have better access. A shiver ran down your spine when your back collided with the cool tile walls. Alastor bit a little too harshly between the juncture of your throat and shoulder.

A bit of blood trickled down your collarbone, but your husband was quick to lap it up. A deep groan from him sent a rush of heat down to your core. "Divine, my little doe. Absolutely delectable," Alastor mumbled against your sternum before one of his hands slipped between your bodies. He rubbed the flushed tip of his cock between your folds, groaning at the feeling of your slick. "May I, my darling?" Alastor whispered, lips ghosting over yours as he waited patiently for your approval.

"Yes, please..." You sighed, burying your hands into his soaked two-toned locks. Your husband slowly pushed himself past the tight ring of your pussy. Capturing your lips at the same time, drinking up all of your moans as he stretched you open. Your eyes rolled back into your head when Alastor bottomed out inside you. Slowly, you caressed his sensitive ears. Pride pooled in your chest when your husband twitched wildly inside you from the gesture.

Your lips pulled back from his when Alastor began thrusting into you. His movements were sharp but shallow, not wanting to pull back more than he had to from the warmth of your pussy. Your husband's head fell forward, forehead resting flush against your shoulder. Alastor groaned against your damp skin as your walls clenched tightly around his throbbing cock. All you could do was moan in pleasure as your husband fucked into you perfectly.

"Mine, all mine..." Alastor huffed out before suckling at the base of your neck. You could feel your husband's knot begin to swell inside you as your own release approached rapidly. Apsentmindly, Alastor's thumb dipped between your bodies. He rubbed at your clit expertly as he jackhammered up into you. Your legs tightened around his waist as the coil within your tummy was only moments from snapping. "I'm yours, all yours..."

Your words sent Alastor over the edge. He moaned loudly into your neck as his hips stilled, emptying his load deep inside you. The feeling of your husband cumming inside you was enough to trigger your own orgasm. Alastor hissed as he felt your pussy gush around his cock, squeezing him like a vise. After a few moments, you felt Alastor's knot begin to deflate. Allowing his now softening cock to slip out of your inviting heat. "You truly are just darling. How did I get so lucky?" Alastor chuckled as he lifted his head to gaze into your eyes.

A bashful smile crossed your features as Alastor slowly lowered your thighs from off his waist. Being sure to hold your hips, stabilizing your trembling legs. "Oh, hush! I'm the lucky one." You giggled, untangling your hands from his hair. Allowing your palms to cup his face, pulling him down for a chaste kiss. Alastor kept his eyes open as you kissed, admiring your lovely visage. After a moment, you pulled back, nuzzling your nose into his. "Now, let's get washed up before heading back out there, yeah?"

Alastor and you emerged from the room a little while later. Meeting up with the group from where they gathered in the foyer. Charlie cheerfully waved you and your husband over, and you didn't miss the way Lucifer scowled at Alastor. "We were wondering where you lovebirds wandered off to," Vaggie stated, scooting over on the couch to allow you both to sit. Swiftly, Alastor sat on the sofa before pulling you into his lap. A smile etched into your face as your husband's arms looped around your frame, large palms caressing the tops of your thighs.

You heard Lucifer grumble under his breath from the public display of affection. Your friends, on the other hand, had their jaws on the floor. Alastor rarely showed his physical admiration toward you in front of them. So, to say they were shocked was an understatement. "Told ya they snuck away to fuck! Look at her neck, haha- Husk! You owe me that hundred bucks," Angel blurted out. Laughing his ass off. Heat rushed to your face from your friend's crass words. Alastor, on the other hand, glared at Lucifer. His smile stretched from ear to ear as the ruler of hell fumed.

"Angel-! Husk-?! You made a bet on whether or not Alastor and I would... ah, you fuckers!" Embarrassment flooded your entire being, hands darting up to cover your face. Alastor let out a loud chuckle from your adorable reaction. "No, toots. We're not the fuckers! You're the one who got fucked, aha!" You quickly got up from your spot atop Alastor's lap, storming over to Angel. "Husk, you're next!" You shouted, chasing Angel around the lobby. "Leave me out of this! That dumbass wouldn't shut up until I accepted the bet." Husk grumbled, not entertaining the bullshit.

All the while, Alastor was giving Lucifer a sharp look with that shit-eating grin still illuminating his features. "As you can see, there's no need for you to show my wife your little chum below the belt. My darling is more than satisfied in my care!"

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel

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anantaru · 3 months

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cunt destroyer wrio 👹

cw. mean & dom wrio, petnames used: baby, doll fem! reader

with his lips parted, jaw slacked, wriothesley's eyes glimmer down on your juddering legs holding on to his hips for their dear life.

how absolute pretty of you to give him such desperate signs that you were so close to your climax— yet his utmost favorite must be your perfectly arched back that made it almost too smooth to fuck you in that precise way.

slow and steady, with his thrusts emphasizing on the slow.

he grips at your chin, his eyes barred on your dizzy expression as he lifts it to make you look up at him with a whimper, "you sure you can last as long as you claimed you would?" wriothesley raises a curious brow before smothering over your giddy thighs with his palm, practically forcing the air out of your lungs.

"because it doesn't look like it, doll," he sneaks out a grumble as he begins to move again— although feel it deeply now, concentrate on how agonizingly slow he slid his cock out of your warmth before greedily grinding it all the way in, easy, again— slow, unhurriedly rubbing over your flaring walls.

"wriothesley, p-please don't tease me now," you mewl, "just a little faster," before taking a moment to swallow the growing lump in your throat as you moan at yet another sizzling thrust— fuck, you're shaking, hot and smoldering at each time he makes you take his dick.

because you can feel it all, his swollen tip breaching through your hole or his lengthy veins pulsating over the flickering skin.

simply all of it. you can feel him more intensely now.

your eyes flicker to your lower region to watch wriothesley on how he's doing it, how on earth he could manage to turn you into this babbling, drooling mess of a person with his slow thrusts. how he's nonchalantly guiding his cock in and out of your hole until you're huffing out hasty breaths of his name, his hips moving lightly as he rests his body weight on top of you.

"hah, please don't tease me now," wriothesley mocks you as he laughs breathily, his dripping erection capturing inches after inches of your walls as you split and part just perfectly to his size. he was so warm inside of you that it rattled your body with goosebumps the more you squeezed and milked him.

you could taste the curves of his length that paraded themselves with one thick, massive vein, the raw feeling of it making you stammer over your precious, cute sobs.

"hey," wriothesley squeezes your thighs, "keep looking at me, doll," he adds and rests his forehead against yours, all the while driving into you with such ravenous slowness that made you experience sharp twitches all across your body, "just don't take your eyes off me," he rasps with one side of his lips pulled up, revealing his white canines.

moan after moan, you fold until those sweet, innocent thrusts that genuinely cracked you apart— and with your body trembling from head to toe, wriothesley suppresses a sudden, rasping groan when you press your heels into his back to have him deeper in you.

just something that would make him snap out of this game.

the duke chuckles, crowding you thickly so you'd be full of his shaft, "don't worry, okay?" he notices your face growing hot as he puts a sickly sweet kiss on the tip of your nose, "i'll take care of you baby, fuck— just trust me, yeah?"

"it will all be worth it in the end."

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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haoboutyou · 2 months

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for your convenience | kim mingyu

suggestive, fluff | 1281 words | alcohol mention, making out

mingyu’s got an unconventional solution to both your problems

“I still don’t understand how you’re still single, Gyu. My back is hurting from all the girls shooting lasers at me!” Yuju threw her head back in a laugh, bumping her shoulders into you playfully as she shouted over the loud music.

The man in question groaned in exasperation. “Not you too, Yuju. You’re starting to sound like my mom.”

“Oh my god, really?! I miss Auntie Kim!” Yuju squealed in joy.

“I’m not kidding; she’s even set up blind dates for me!” Mingyu ran a hand over his face, whining.

“Oh please. As soon as they find out about his golden retriever-ass personality, they’ll lose interest and make a run for it.”

Next to her, Eunwoo smirked. He downed the drink in his hand in one go, wincing at the burn as he hooked an arm around Mingyu’s neck.

“You’re one to talk, Mr Dark-and-Mysterious.” Your cheeks are flushed bright red, evidence of the alcohol in your veins. You did a once-over of Eunwoo in his leather jacket, scoffing. “Remember when you cried because you stepped on a cicida?”

“One: I did not cry, my hair got into my eyes! And two: it was crunchy!”

All you wanted to do tonight was get drunk, make out strangers and party hard with your friends. As soon as you entered Cherries, your little group had made a beeline for your usual table. Two cranberry vodkas into the night and you’ve found yourself twirling around your best friends on the dance floor, steps only a little wobbly as you bounced between Yuju, Eunwoo and Mingyu.

Actually, it was just you and Mingyu. Eunwoo had already retreated to the bar, and Yuju got lost on the crowded dance floor, probably grinding on the nearest hottie around her. Not that you minded one bit– you were the closest to Mingyu, anyway, so being alone with him wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

Mingyu’s got a firm grip on your waist the whole time, ensuring your drunken self didn’t trip over your own feet. You were both mingling around, dancing along to the DJ and having the time of your life.

That was, until you spotted an unwelcomingly familiar figure by the bar, staring straight at you. The sudden chill that followed sobered you up in record time, halting you in your dance.

“Fuck, he’s here too?”

Mingyu looked up to see where you were looking. “Is that Jaehyun? I thought you guys broke up months ago”

“Apparently, he didn't get the memo,” you muttered.

You bit your lip, a nervous habit Mingyu noticed you formed a few years back. He couldn’t help but reach out, thumb caressing your lower lip to stop you from biting. He successfully managed to catch your attention; instead, you turned to look back at him.

“Y/n,” he gazed into your eyes, then towards the direction where your ex stood. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do. Why did you a-”

Mingyu kissed you.

He kissed you and now your brain is short-circuiting again, but for a completely different reason.

Kim Mingyu, possibly the most eligible bachelor in Cherries, just kissed you.

Correction: he’s still kissing you.

His hands gripped on both sides of your face, firm but gentle. His thumb softly caressed the apples of your cheeks as he angled himself to deepen the kiss. Somehow, his other hand found its way to the nape of your neck; tilting your head upwards and burying his fingers into your locks.

You let out a gasp as he ran his tongue along your lips. It happened too suddenly; your hands were left to find purchase on his jacket, gripping for dear life. You, however, found yourself drowning in his scent; his warm and woody scent engulfing you whole. Kissing him back with equal fervour was a no-brainer– he made you lose yourself in him, with him.

He’s really good at it too, you realised, until he reluctantly broke the kiss. Cocoa-colour eyes stared back at you intently as Mingyu leaned his forehead against yours. The ferocity of the kiss left you both panting, a bright rosy flush gracing both your cheeks.

The thumping beats and flashing lights of Cherries came rushing back into your senses. All around you, bodies continued to sway in rhythm, laughter and chatter melding into a rush of excitement as strangers burst your private bubble with Mingyu.

“Do you think he saw that?” Even between pants, Mingyu managed to look arrogantly charming, smirking proudly to himself when he realised he’d managed to render you speechless.

You suddenly felt shy, eyes flitting anywhere else but back at him. You took a deep breath, before using what little strength you had left to push him away.

“Uh, well… I think so, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

From the corner of your eye, you spotted your ex slinking back onto the dance floor after witnessing your bold display of affection.

You sighed in relief, slumping onto Mingyu’s tall frame. He chuckled at how comically you do it, an arm wrapping around your waist to support you against him.

“No, really. Thank you. I think he’s been following me because he thought he still had a chance.” you shudder as you recall the terrifying past month you just had– a stalker ex following everywhere you went.

Mingyu peppered soft kisses on your neck, making sure to look over your shoulder into the crowd behind you. For good measure, you reasoned to yourself. You balled up your fists on his lapels, anchoring yourself to him. “I might have a solution to both our problems, y/n.” He’s got a finger twirling a piece of your hair now. “Go out with me. I’ll make him, and all your other problems gone.”

“Oh yeah?” Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Like what?”

“Rumour has it you’re looking for a new place?” Mingyu leaned forward, speaking into your ear. His breath tickled, eliciting a shiver that ran down your spine. The club’s music seemed to muffle his deep voice even more, straining to pick it up amid the constant noise.

He nuzzled deeper into your neck. “C’mon, Y/n-ie. We already get along great with each other. Most people already assume we’re dating anyway.” He took in a deep breath. “Help me stop my parents from sending me on those stupid blind dates. Won’t it be a win-win situation?”

“You want us to fake date?”

“I want us to real date.”

You bit your lip back again. Your voice dropped down to a whisper. “That’s not funny, Gyu. Be serious.”

His smile softens. For a moment, it reminded you of the goofy kid you first befriended in high school.

“Is falling in love with me that bad? I wouldn’t mind loving you, personally.”

You stared back at him hard. It’s hot and humid in Cherries, but Kim Mingyu pulls off the sweaty sexy look way too effortlessly. Brief flashbacks of your short-lived high school crush on your best friend reemerged in your head. Besides… He did help you chase off your ex tonight. Knowing how persistent your ex is though, maybe keeping Mingyu around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Y/n-ie, baby.” You were aware that the both of you were only slightly drunk; sober enough to understand the consequences of your actions, but tipsy enough to act on your desires. Mingyu seemed to pout harder. “Date me, please? I’d rather be with you than anyone else.”

You pretend to ponder a little bit more before finally making a decision. “Fine.” You shook his warm hand in yours, ignoring how your heart fluttered at how his large hand almost engulfed yours.

“You’ve got a deal, boyfriend.”

divider credit

#mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #kim mingyu #svt fluff #mingyu #seventeen #svt #kim mingyu fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

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jongseongsnudes · 7 days

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kiss me (part 2)

bff!jake. 1.6k words. ✨️smut✨️ft. lee heeseung. (part one)

two weeks.

it had been two weeks since that night in his apartment that led to you and him crossing into the grey area.

the thought of that night stayed on your mind the whole time, your body immediately tensing up and growing hot every time you remembered how it played out. the way the man kissed you, held you, touched you all over. all night long.

it was like how you’ve always imagined it, only a hundred times better.

and you two haven’t stopped fucking since.

his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, hell, even in the laundry room. you two fucked like rabbits, like your life depended on it. you just couldn’t believe it took this long, considering the so so so obvious sexual tension that was always there.

every chance he got, his hands would be on your body, holding you close to him, kissing you, filling you to the brim. just like right now.

“oh god jake- feels so good-”

“i know baby, i know,” he coos into your ear, his voice so deep, just like his cock that’s currently burried inside of you. his hands are gripped on your waist, holding you up as you bounced on his lap, inching closer and closer to both your highs.

if you had a choice, you probably wouldn’t opt for fucking in jake’s car of all places but desperate times called for desperate measures. in other words, jake sim was horny and you weren’t going to say no.

and that’s how you ended up riding the man for dear life in the carpark behind the bar you and him were supposed to have entered about twenty minutes ago... to meet your other friends.... that you had sort of forgotten about.

“you need help baby?” you hear him chuckle against your skin, his lips kissing down the side of your neck, “let me help you.”

the man immediately thrusts up as he says so, not even giving you the chance to respond. all you could do was whine at the feeling of him even deeper inside of you, his thickness almost breaking you in half. but you couldn’t care less, not when it feels this good.

you grip tighter onto his shoulders as the man pounds into you, your nails almost ripping his poor shirt, similar to your dress strap that was currently hanging on for dear life. thanks to jake’s rough hands earlier, even after you told him how much you loved the dress.

eye roll.

you begin to see stars when he hits at one specific angle, an angle he had perfected only after a week. it was like he knew everything about your body already. where to touch, where to kiss, where to suck. the man was a fast learner and you were more than thankful for that.

“jake...”

“what do you want baby, tell me. i’ll give it to you.”

“cum- i want to cum- please...”

the smirk on his lips tells you just how pleased he is with how whiny you are because of him. how pathetic and dishevelled you always looked when he’s fucking you, with hair so messy and with tears in your eyes.

that’s exactly what jake sim loved seeing. you a complete mess for him.

“because you asked so nicely...” his thrusts fastens almost immediately, causing your head to fall back as drool threatens to fall from the corners of your lips. you have no idea of what’s what anymore, you just know that you were going to have the best orgasm of your life. all thanks to jake sim.

moans and the sound of the rough love making continues to fill the man’s car as he works you towards your end, his thrusts gradually growing erratic. an indication that he was also almost there.

“j- fuck- jake-”

you almost faint at the violent rush that suddenly erupts inside of you, your juices coating the man’s dick just as he also cums. deep, deep inside of you.

with no energy left, you lay your head onto his shoulder, your arms now weakly clinging onto the material of his shirt. you could hear him laughing lowly beside you as he begins to pat your head, something you’ve always loved him doing.

“i’m so tired... and sore,” you lift your head up after a while to look at the man, who in turn was already staring at you with that goofy grin you’ve always been a sucker for, “you wanna just go back to mine?”

“can’t baby. i had plans to meet someone here tonight and she’s hot as fuck.”

“oh.”

yes, oh.

and back to reality you go, back to the fact that this was all you and jake were just best friends with benefits.

you and jake never actually discussed what this was but the man had casually mentioned a few times that he was comfortable with this. that he liked fucking around with his best friend.

and something in you wasn’t exactly happy with that but you couldn’t understand why.

“what’s wrong?” his voice knocks you out of your thoughts, his fingers drawing circles on your lower back, “want to go again beautiful?”

“narh, lets go in. the guys are probably wondering where we are.”

you get off his lap, and his dick, and back to the passenger side with some struggle, thanks to the man refusing to let your waist go. but you wanted to get in that bar as soon as possible. perhaps getting drunk could get your mind off this whole thing with jake for now.

after fixing yourselves, both you and jake head inside the crowded bar. his hand stayed on your lower back the entire time, keeping you close until you reached the private booth where heeseung, jay and sunghoon were. and your eyes immediately fall upon heeseung, who had dyed his hair a dirty blonde, a big change from the black you saw him with last time.

and hell did he look good with it.

“hi love,” heeseung says as he catches your gaze, the man reaching out to pull you towards him and away from jake, “what took you so long.”

he gives you a tight hug, his lips slightly brushing against the tip of your ear as he does. the smell of alcohol that immediately emits from him tells you perhaps hes had quite a bit to drink already.

as you settle against the very welcoming heeseung, you catch jake’s gaze, the man suddenly looking grim. but only for a split second before he excuses himself, to get his dick wet you assume.

sigh.

you spend the next two hours or so doing what you had planned to do, get drunk in order to get your mind off a certain someone. but of course, he was the only thing on your mind the drunker you got.

you can’t help but wonder about the man’s whereabouts. was he still in the club? was he and that chick already fucking in his car? replacing you?

ugh.

but why was that thought annoying you so much?

“it’s like you keep getting prettier,” heeseung says so nonchalantly, the man now staring blankly at your face as he twirls some of your hair with his fingers, “you literally take my breath away every time.”

“what do you want mr lee? why are you flattering me so much tonight?”

the man only chuckles at your accusation, his body casually leaning in closer until his lips are at your ear. you can feel his hot breath against your skin, the tingly sensation goes straight down your spine, right to your panties.

“you love, i want you.”

you’ve always known that sweet talk was one of lee heeseung’s specialties and they’ve never worked on you... but there was something about it tonight. just something about the way he had been acting is causing you to press your thighs tighter together, your palms even sweating.

as much as you didn’t want to use your friend, perhaps heeseung could be your distraction tonight. besides if jake was out there getting some action, you figured you could do the same.

right?

“do you want to head back to mine?” heeseung asks lowly, as if he had read your mind. you barely nod in return but that was enough to have the handsome man closing the gap between his lips and yours, kissing you deep and slowly. your hands are quickly in his hair while his are holding your body, deepening the kiss.

“hey hey- what the fuck,” a deep voice calls out as you are suddenly separated from heeseung, your body now pulled up and right into a very familiar body.

jake sim.

before you could even question him, he had pulled you through the crowd, taking you out to carpark despite your constant struggling and yelling. the man finally lets go of your wrist, only to push you up against his car, cornering you in with his much taller frame.

“what the hell is wrong with you sim!”

“what the hell is wrong with you! why were you and heeseung sucking each other’s faces?” jake is visibly angry, something you very rarely see from your usually chill best friend and you didn’t understand why, “are you going to just fuck all of your friends?”

you scoff at his words, your head unable to progress the audacity. even after disappearing with some chick for hours, he had the nerve to spit those words at you like you had done something wrong.

“and what jake? what if i want to fuck all of my friends?” you poke at his chest, knowing that it would only further push his buttons. just like you intended to do. “i can do whatever the hell i want. just like you.”

and as you had expected, the man only gets angrier to your sarcasm. the view of his clenched jaw and darkened eyes the pure evidence of that, his hands now moving to grab your arms but you push it away.

“cause it’s like what you said jake. we’re just friends right?”

to be continued.

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

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

1K notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 5 months

Text

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first.

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence.

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi:

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide.

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend.

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard.

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle.

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life.

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!”

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny.

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared.

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever.

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death.

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word.

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper.

Nothing but an empty table.

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear.

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.”

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside.

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back.

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened.

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable.

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened.

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does.

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.”

You hated it.

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter.

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry.

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop.

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself.

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling.

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now.

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

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b3gger · 11 months

Text

König’s Eyes

eye contact with shy König (2500+ words)

“I can’t focus when you’re looking at me like that.”

How cute. For a man as big as König, you didn’t expect him to be so… shy? But he wasn’t shy. You’ve seen him engage with others, but then again they were always the same two or so people. Even now as we you watch him sitting, his frame seemingly taking up the entirety of the couch, he seemed to be relaxed and chill, exchanging a few words here and there with his friends.

Maybe you’d know if he was shy if you could see his face. After all, facial expressions showcase a lot regarding a person’s behavior. But it was always hidden under that stupid headgear of his.

But honestly? Who cares? Not when the fabric of his pants were clinging on for dear life around his thighs. It seemed to bunch up around his crotch, fabric riding up at every movement König made. You don’t know if you’re going crazy but you could’ve sworn that the pure tightness of the pants showed every movement of his muscle, contracting and flexing at every turn.

If you touched his thighs, do you think you could feel it? The sheer strength and power that lays right underneath those pants weren’t too far. The pants were the only barrier, a thin one at that, separating you from gripping his thighs as tightly as the pants were at this moment. If they were off, you would have access to his bare skin. His bare and contracting, powerful thighs….. stop.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Counting to 3, you slowly exhale before opening your eyes, staring up at the ceiling deciding whether or not to call it a night and go home. You weren’t too keen on staying out late and just drinking all night knowing there was work to be done tomorrow. But that sounded like it was a problem for future you.

Your mind wonders again on what König is up to. You look away from the ceiling to glance at him and oh? He’s looking at you. But just as you catch him, he looks away quickly. Was he pretending that he wasn’t looking? Cute.

You finished your drink before signaling to your bartender you were leaving the bar. They gave you a nod before picking up your empty glass to put away. You look towards where König is sitting. Your stare must’ve been heavy because he soon glanced at you. You saw his eyes slightly widen before once again he started to look elsewhere. That wouldn’t do.

You got up and started walking towards him. König tilted his head in curiosity at your approaching figure, eyes darting back and forth from his friends to you. He felt his vision shake as you leaned down close to his face.

“Can I sit here?” you asked. He nodded and so you slid in beside him. You moved around a bit to get comfortable and glanced at him, almost laughing when you realized how stiff and still he was. You poked him a little but it sent him flying up, huge eyes turning to you fast in question.

“Just making sure you weren’t dead by how frozen you were,” you grinned at him. He huffed before relaxing his body, leaning back on the couch with you,” You could’ve called my name.”

You let out a laugh,” Where’s the fun in that?” König glances at you and rolls his eyes. You settle further into the couch, the soft cushions doing wonders to your back. You feel tears gathering in your eyes, blurring your vision as a yawn creeps upon you. You blink them away before settling your gaze on König’s side profile, wondering what expression he was making under the mask.

Was he as tired as me? Hmm. You felt your gaze lowering as they once again settled on his thighs with those tight, tight pants on. You weren’t that far away, just a hand away and you could feel it pulsing under your fingers. “You’re staring,” König muttered.

“Huh?” You look up, kind of embarrassed at being caught at this close proximity. However, the embarrassment quickly went away as soon as you caught a hint of red under that gear of his. It seemed to blossom suddenly, making it seem like his face was flushed and rosy. Even the gear couldn’t hide the fact that he was nervous from your stares. It could conceal it, sure, but the tiny evidence was seen on the eye sockets of the gear as well as his nervous, stumbling demeanor.

His eyes also revealed his nervousness. They seemed to be doing flips, darting from you to elsewhere, not able to keep eye contact or look at you in general, “I-I said you’re staring.”

You can feel a smile creeping onto your face at the small stutter,” Sorry, what was that?”

König huffs a little and stays quiet much to your disappointment. You wish and want him to say more but you don’t want to push him. He has trouble enough interacting with others, you don’t want to add to the number. You were content with the small exchanges knowing that this conversation, although dry and short, was good. Unsatisfying, yes, but still good progress. Maybe with more interactions like this, you could decrease his shyness around you so you could talk with him more freely.

You stand up, stretching to release the tension in your body to prepare for the trip back to your place. You check your pockets to make sure you have your wallet and everything else on you before digging your keys out. You then turn to König, giving him a smile,” I think I’m gonna head back now. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

König looks at you, blinking rapidly as if he was trying to process your words. You tilt your head, questioning him with your eyes to see if he would say anything. It didn’t have to be grand, but you did hope he’d say bye verbally, just to hear his voice.

Eventually, he stopped blinking and looked up at you, but at the same time not at you? It seemed like he was just staring at your forehead or something beyond you. He then nodded. You squint your eyes knowing this was his response to your goodbye. You feel your nerves hitting you but gather yourself quickly, knowing König just had a hard time talking and you shouldn’t get upset. You gave him a small smile again,” Alright, good night, Konig.”

You turn to leave and start walking towards the exit of the bar, saying your goodbyes to your other friends on the way out. As you reach the outside of the bar, you pause to look up at the night sky, stars decorating every inch of the world above you. It reminds you of König’s eyes, how they seemed to sparkle and twinkle when he found something he liked. How his eyes seemed to carry his thoughts and feelings, but were always closed off to you due to the lack of eye contact from him.

Your mind then wonders to your small interactions with König. You know you said tonight was good progress, but it was still frustrating. You let out a sigh of disappointment but looking at sky would do for now. You considered it to be König’s second pair of eyes and would gaze at the night sky, imagining it was him looking back at you, showing you his inner self and leaving himself to be dissected by you so you could understand his thoughts and feelings.

“Hey.”

You turn quickly in surprise at the sudden voice calling out for you, stumbling a bit in the progress. You let a breath out in relief when you realized it was just König staring down at you in worry. He managed to mumbled out an apology while you gathered yourself from your previous shock and stumble, wondering what the man was up to. It wasn’t like him to suddenly come after you.

“Is everything alright, König?”

His eyes darted around, seemingly going up and down and sideways and just about anywhere that wasn’t you. You squint your eyes at his strange behavior as you analyze him, noticing how he seemed to be slouching and crouched as if trying to make himself seem smaller. He was fumbling with his fingers, not to the point where it was noticeable but the small taps and sliding gave it away. You stared at the man in front of you, worry starting to creep in at his bizarre behavior. This wasn’t the usual nervousness he displayed and you were starting to feel anxious yourself, “König, seriously, is everything alright? You’re starting to freak me out.”

“I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like that.”

You take a small, sharp breath in, body freezing in shock as you try to process his words,” What?”

König looks down at his feet, his hands tightly wrapped around each other,” I try my best, but I can’t. You just… do something to me. I-I try to talk but your gaze just makes me clam up and then I can’t focus or talk and-“

“Okay, okay, big guy. I get it,” you laugh at his rambling, knowing he’d continue on and on if you didn’t interrupt. And as tempting as it was to let him continue, the man in front of you looked like he was about to die of nervousness. Coming up to you and saying all this must have taken great courage and you were proud of König for taking that step.

“König, I understand it takes you time to feel comfortable and speak with people. So please don’t worry too much. I value our small conversations,” you reassure him, reaching out toward his hands to take them apart to instead hold each of his hands in yours. You hold it between the both of you before squeezing it, waiting patiently for him to look at you.

And while it took a minute, he looked down at his hands that were held together with yours and then looked at you shyly, “ I just feel like I chased you away. I wanted you to stay, but in the end, even saying goodbye was too hard. I’m sorry.”

You grin at him, looking at his twinkling eyes that conveyed his regret,” As long as you continue to look at me, I’ll forgive you anytime for anything.” You see the familiar red settle around his eyes through the sockets of the headgear, knowing König was blossoming once again. He quickly looked away from your gaze but kept his hands conjoined with yours. Your grin widens into a big, fat smile at this tiny victory.

You bring his hands towards your lips, softly kissing at his knuckles,” Looking away so soon?” You loved the way his knuckles felt on your lips, hoping the shape, texture, and feeling of the small kiss would be ingrained in your brain. But what you wished and hoped most of all was that your brain would remember the way König turned to look at you, eyes wide in shock at the sudden kiss on his hands, a small noise escaping his mouth as he jolted in surprise,” W-what?!”

You lowered his hands down from your mouth, but did not let go. Instead, you clasped your hands around his and pulled causing him to stumble towards you. The small stumble caused the two of you to stop holding hands as he fell into your embrace. Your hands held onto his waist in order to stabilize him while his hands were on top of your shoulders, holding onto you for support. The position was laughable as the roles should’ve been switched due to König’s size. But you didn’t want to switch the roles, this felt right. It worked for you because having him lean onto you for support was doing something to you.

It made you want to take care of him. It made you want him to see you as a safe and open person that he could go to and depend on. You didn’t realize you were subconsciously gripping onto his waist more and more until he tapped your shoulders. You looked up at him loosening your grip but not letting go, giving him a small, bright smile,” Clumsy, aren’t you, König?”

He huffs as he rolls his eyes and then looked down at you trying to make eye contact. He seemed like he was smiling back by the way his eyes seemed to crinkle and become shaped like crescents. You bring him closer to you by pulling on his waist,” If I knew it only took a small stumble to have you on me, I’d have done it sooner.”

He gives a small laugh at that,” I’m surprised you held back this long. I know you stare.”

You tilt your head in curiosity, wondering what he was hinting at. He must’ve seen your confused look because he cleared his throat and looked away from your questioning gaze,” You know… the stares. In there. At my.. you know.”

You blink trying to process at what he was trying to convey. His slow, delayed speech was making your brain short circuit. Hmm, lets see. In the bar staring at his what? Oh! Oh. You let out a loud laugh and he crouches down and rests his head on your shoulder as if trying to hide his embarrassment. You lean the side of your head onto his head and continue laughing,” Should I stop staring? Maybe it’ll help you focus.”

You felt him shake his head no as he began to switch from holding your shoulders with his hands to wrapping both of his arms around you, his head still buried on you neck as he hid in embarrassment. He muffled something and you lifted your head a little from his and turned to try to look at him, your hands softly squeezing his waist in question,” I can’t hear you, König.”

He rose up from his hiding place and looked down at you, arms still around you,” I said continue staring….looking at me. Please, have your eyes on me at all times.”

As you gaze into his eyes, you see it twinkle and sparkle. You could have sworn they were brighter than the night sky at that moment. No, you don’t swear, you know. His eyes are the brightest.

His eyes seemed to be like a door made for you to unlock, so that you may gaze inside his brain to see it filled with feelings and thoughts of you. But you felt the same way. It felt as though nothing but König filled your head. It was overflowing and you could not think or imagine anything else. Your plans of going home were destroyed and you honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. All you wanted to do was stay here with König in your embrace, your hands on his waist, his arms wrapped around you, his eyes gazing down into your eyes for what seemed like the longest time ever. This was where you wanted to be forever.

#konig #konig x reader #konig fluff #konig call of duty #call of duty #dom!reader #sub!character #sub konig #konig fic #fem!reader #gender neutral reader #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #könig cod #cod x reader #konig imagine #könig fluff #könig modern warfare #könig x reader

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d3arapril · 6 months

Note

Idk if you do requests or if they’re even open but I just read your “cover her mouth….” fic. Absolutely toe curling content🥴 Can we get something like that but Ellie is fingering reader with her hand over their mouth🙈 feel free to ignore tho if not 🫶🏽

glad u enjoyed! hope ur toes aren't cramping <3...i hope this suffices 😛 combined this with this request as I thought they fit well together... not my best BUT let me know what u think!

pairing: jackson!ellie williams x f!reader warnings/tags: kinda dom!ellie, reader is drunk ellie is tipsy (just setting the mood), ellie is iced out mid apocalypse, established relationship, public sex ig, fingering NSFW 18+ mdni

"wait, let me take these off"

ellie's voice is low as she speaks, going to pull off her rings and stuff them in the back pocket of her jeans until your hands are squeezing hers, stopping her in her tracks.

"no, no, please keep them on, fuck-" you're almost manic, eyes blown wide and lips pouting as the alcohol goes straight to your head and all you can think of is ellie, ellie, ellie.

having sex in a tiny, dusty cubicle in ladies toilets of the tipsy bison wasn't something you'd anticipated would happen this evening, a quick trip to the bar for one drink after a long day soon turned into seven drinks and before you knew it you were excusing yourself to the ladies room with ellie hot on your tail.

she mumbles something under her breath that you can't quite hear as she gives up with your zip and all but shoves a hand past the waistband of your jeans and underwear. she's sucking a breath in through her teeth when she feels how wet you are.

"this is fucking dirty, you know that?" she's smirking now, voice low as two slender fingers rub your clit in slow, slow circles until you're whimpering like a wounded dog.

you don't respond - you don't even think you can, just stare at her as she her hand travels further in your underwear and you jump at the contrast of her cold rings against the warmth of your pussy as she slides two fingers in and goes deep. she stills, her free hand coming to grab your face and squish your cheeks together so she can make sure you're paying full attention.

"you've got to be quiet, yeah?" she raises an eyebrow as you nod, brows furrowing and legs almost giving way when she finally begins curling her fingers upwards. the wet sounds coming from your pussy are anything but quiet as she speeds up, free hand now cupping the back of your head and watching you as you bite your lip to try stay quiet. she adds a third finger and all of a sudden being quiet is no longer an option when she's doing such a good job.

ellie scoffs, hand moving from supporting your neck to cover your mouth. she leans in, lips on your ear as her fingers don't let up.

"thought i asked you to be quiet?"

you're panting against her hand and the cold touch of her rings against your face is the only thing keeping you grounded or else you'd likely float off into space and never come back.

she's fucking her fingers into you harder now, pussy squelching with each in and out motion and you're certain that you've soaked through your jeans and likely left a puddle on the floor. your head hits the cubicle wall as ellie puts more force behind the hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, you're gripping into her forearm for dear life until-

footsteps.

you both freeze, ellie's fingers stilling inside of you as the door to the ladies room swings open and someone walks in, heading for the cubicle farthest from yours but before you can even register what's happening ellie is, unfortunately, one step ahead as she's slowly curling her fingers again, somehow digging even deeper than before and hitting that spot that makes your eyes cross and your tummy whirl.

she's relentless, watching you with an eyebrow raised as if to say i dare you. her thumb peeks out from being tucked into her palm to rub against your clit and you're done for, legs trembling and eyes watering as you try to shake your head to warn her you're about to fucking gush all over her hand and in your pants.

ellie doesn't care though, if anything she wants to get caught. she leans forward, trailing wet kisses up your neck and when she reaches your ear lobe she bites,

"fuck it, wanna make you cry babe... don't care who hears."

and cry you did.

#hmm idk #I was feeling a type of way so wanted to write #lol #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us smut #my writing #tlou smut

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snowfll · 5 months

Text

Daylight; Tom Blyth

paring - Tom Blyth x famous!reader summary - your life wasn’t easy, hurting those who loved you and being hurt by those you loved — until you met Tom words - 1.29k note - lowkey hate this, but you all voted for it so im publishing it anyway!! hope you guys like it ^-^ With finals coming up, I might not be as active, but once break starts I will be back!!

Growing up as a nepo baby, people took advantage of you, only becoming your friend for the fame that came along. You learned to deal with it but after so many people started to use you, you had to leave them.

In LA, it was hard to tell what people’s true intentions were, but they said they loved you, so you believed them. You were friends with people with all types of wrong to them. Now that you lived in New York, no one could be trusted, you learned your lesson after being naive one too many times.

The moment you encountered Tom, things were never the same. He was your literal knight in shining armor.

As you walked down the carpet of another premiere your manager forced you to attend, you couldn’t help but notice all the fake smiles from everyone you knew— including yourself. Being famous had its ups and downs, many loved your work but they did not appreciate who you were associated with.

Paparazzi continued to take your photos, commanding you to pose or asking you questions. With all the flashing from the cameras, everyone put on their best faces, but you can guarantee everyone looked worse in the light.

Once you reached the end of the carpet, your face dropped, of all people, your ex-boyfriend was standing there.

You had broken up with him almost a year ago, right before you moved out to New York. He was the main reason you couldn’t trust anyone. He brought you to parties, clubs, bars — the whole LA experience. That is where you had gotten into drugs, most people encouraged you including him.

Your ex had walked over to you and tried to make conversation with you. As he begged you to take him back, you tried to leave, not in the mood to deal with him. He didn’t get the hint as he continued to stand next to you.

Telling him to leave you alone, you turned to walk away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards him. You tried to break free from his grasp but his grip on your wrist tightened. Fortunately, someone had noticed what was happening and approached the two of you.

“Is this man hurting you, love?” the voice intervened, getting in between you and your ex. You did not know who this man was but you were thankful for him either way. Nodding your head, you shyly stood behind him. “I’m pretty sure my girlfriend told you to leave her alone.”

His eyes widened as he looked up at the man protecting you. This mystery man was at least 6’0, 5 inches taller than your ex, who stood at 5’7. Intimidated, he ran off, most likely back to the people he came with.

“Thank you, sir,” you acknowledged his heroic actions as he turned around to face you.

“Anytime dear, I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you to be treated so horribly.” You couldn’t help but blush at his words. Before you could reply, he got dragged away by what looked like to be his friend. You weren’t able to get his name or the reason he was there. Later that night, you found out that he played the main character in the movie for the premiere.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

From that day, Tom reached out to you on Instagram, asking to see you again, but this time under proper circumstances. At first, you were hesitant, you didn’t know anything about him — what if he was just like the others?

He didn’t give up, telling you that meeting up with him was completely up to you. He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel unsafe.

Either way, you agreed, you hated to admit it but ever since you saw him on the night of the premiere, you didn’t want to look at anything else. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and you didn’t want to think about anything else.

The more the two of you hung out, the more you realized how genuine he truly was. Taking you on dates to places you’ve only dreamed of going. On one occasion he surprised you with a cute rooftop garden in the heart of New York City.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you rode on the back of his motorcycle. He had randomly shown up at your apartment door and told you to get ready.

“You will see when we get there.” He spoke, refusing to give you any hints as to what you were going to do. Throughout the ride, you watched as you sped past all the cars and took in the view of New York City at night.

As you arrived at what you believed to be the destination, Tom dragged you into the building and straight into the elevator— pushing the button for the roof. Reaching the top, you opened to door to see a beautiful garden, the skyline sparkled with city lights.

In a cozy corner of the roof, a picnic blanket sat with an array of your favorite snacks and drinks. The music playing in the background displayed his thoughtfulness as he carefully curated the playlist based on your time together.

The night was filled with laughter, shared dreams, and stolen glances under the starlight sky. It truly was a night to remember— the way it ended left you over the mean.

The evening was coming to a close as you were lying in his lap, a comfortable silence filling the air. It had been quiet for a while, the only thing heard was Tom humming along to the songs.

You were content with the night, the quietness was a huge contrast to your old life in LA. Instead of being at a party filled with people who didn’t give a shit about you, here you were, on a date with a man who proved he was worthy of your trust.

Interrupting the silence, Tom finally spoke up, what came out of his mouth changed your views on love. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.” You could tell he was nervous as one of his hands fiddled with your hair.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect— you’re perfect.” Your eyes widened at the last part of his sentence. By now, you were sitting up facing him with your hands in your lap.

“I have enjoyed the past few months with you, ever since I met you at that premiere I knew I had to know you, whether it be just as friends— I wanted you in my life.” His admission hung in the air, and you felt a rush of emotions. The sincerity of his words resonated deeply and you couldn’t help but smile.

He continued. “I’ve never met someone so genuine. I care about you in a way I’ve never felt before. I know you don’t want to get hurt again but if you let me, I want to make you the happiest girl in the world.”

As he spoke, your heart fluttered, realizing that the connection you shared was reciprocated in a way that went beyond friendship. The vulnerability in his confession melted away any doubts you had about him.

“You have brought so much light into my life, Tom. I never thought I would find anyone who truly cares, who sees beyond the surface.” your voice was filled with sincerity, “I want this— I want us.”

Before him, you were miserable — feeling like you were sleeping in a 20-year dark night. For the entirety of your life, you closed yourself off from the world. Tom brought you out of that state, you were wide awake. With him, the only thing you see is daylight.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x you #tbosbas #hunger games #fluff #imagine #onehsot #taylor swift #lover #daylight #fem!reader #confession #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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hazelsmirrorball · 5 months

Text

Bad idea right? | Charles Leclerc

pairings: Ex! Charles Leclerc x Singer! FemReader Summary: After a drunken night, exes rekindle under the moonlight. Face claim: Olivia Rodrigo Warnings: suggested language, exes, english isn’t my main language so excuse any mistake. authors note: thank you so much for the love on the last one. I really appreciate it a lot.

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y/n just posted

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y/n new things, bad things coming real soon!

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lilymhe talented girl!

→ y/n i love you!!

username mother is mothering!

username the color red? is this like an Easter egg

→username Charles! this has to be about Charles

username girl what!

username how soon are we taking about?

username omg! this is sour all over again

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

username arthur liking? hell is breaking loose

...

Six months. It had been six months since y/n and charles had broken up. Six months since they decided to have no contact with each other, claiming that it was the best. Throughout the six months Y/n hadn’t heard a thing from Charles, the occasional stalk on instagram but that was about it. Both of them were stubborn to break the no contact.

Y/n knew Charles like the palm of her hand, when their relationship had hit the four year milestone she knew the relationship had run its course. It didn’t take her by surprise when he decided to break up a few after their anniversary. The couple didn’t end on bad terms, both deciding that it was a good idea to take a break, Charles was at his peak with F1 and Y/n had finally gotten the record deal she had been desperately searching for. Time would tell if they were actually good for each other.

What did take Y/n by surprise was her phone lighting up the dark room showing the text message Charles had left her. She was supposed to be having fun with her friends, she was out having the time of her life and all of a sudden Charles decided to break their no contact. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system or the euphoric feeling that was creeping up her system due to the party but she found her way pushing past the sweaty bodies. Her left hand gripped on the bottle of alcohol while the right one held onto the phone for dear life.

When she finally reached the exit of the bar, she quickly slipped out sitting on the edge of the sidewalk to process the text message Charles had sent her. Y/n sat her drink next to her while pressing on her phone to unlock it, her eyes quickly landing on the text message.

‘hey :)”

Lowercase hey and a smiley face. What does a lowercase hey and a smiley face mean? The alcohol on the Y/n system was driving her manic. There she was, sitting down on the dirty side walk over analyzing her ex boyfriend’s hey. If she were sober she would’ve been calm and probably would’ve reacted the same way but with the alcohol flowing in her body she wanted that hey to have another meaning. She didn’t know how long she stayed typing on her phone but when she snapped back to reality when her phone started ringing, before picking it up she drank the contents of the drink next to her to gain courage.

“Hey Y/n! I saw you were typing a lot and decided to call you. I guess it’s easier to talk than to write, right?” Charles responded with a small laugh. Y/n awkwardly followed his laugh embarrassment filling her body. She was forever grateful that Charles couldn’t see her.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just didn’t know what to text you. You are really full of surprises, I thought we had said that we weren’t going to contact each other” as soon as the words left Y/n’s mouth she instantly cringed knowing that her choice or words and tone didn’t help her situation. Charles let out a sigh from the line making Y/n let out an inaudible scream hiding her face between her knees.

“I just wanted to see how things were. I was scrolling through instagram and saw that you were in Miami and I just thought it was a weird coincidence that both of us were in Miami at the same time. I’m actually staying at a hotel nearby. I’m all alone and… ” Charles hesitated thinking if it was a good idea to continue his ramble. “I wanted to see if you wanted to join me. Maybe we could catch up. I miss you” Charles slurred being in the same condition as Y/n, it went unnoticed by her.

As the words slipped out of Charles mouth, Y/n took her face from in between her knees looking at the phone this time covering her mouth not believing what Charles was implying. Y/n she hadn't known Charles well enough to know when he wanted her. Maybe it was the picture she had posted on her instagram story or the lack of intimacy he was feeling but Y/n could sense and undertone from the other line.

“I’m out with my friends right now, Charles. I can’t just ditch them.” Y/n sighed as she looked at Charles' contact picture. God, she could feel her body turning into mush. She needed to snap out of it, they were done, she knew that.

“They won’t even notice that you’re gone. Plus, I know for a fact that your friends do it to you all the time.” Charles replied as Y/n played with the end of her shirt thinning her options through.l

“What would we do if I go there? Because I can assure you I’m having fun right now and if I go to your hotel it can’t be to do boring things” Y/n asked innocently while playing with the rim of her cup. Charles let out what she could assume was a needy sigh making her smirk.

“We can do whatever you want, Y/n. But I can assure you, you’ll have the time of your life. So what do you say?” Charles said and Y/n can imagine the small desperate look on his face. She wanted to egg on the feeling waiting a few seconds as she was searching for an answer hearing Charles rough breathing from the other side of the phone.

Y/n could barely hear her thoughts. She knew if she was in Charles' room that she wouldn’t be able to think clearly. It was a good idea to see Charles at these hours of the night. It was a really bad idea right? Maybe tonight wasn’t the best idea. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know, Charles. I should probably not go” She barely mumbled and Charles waited a few seconds before answering.

“I promise it won’t be a mistake. I’ll send you an uber to pick you up. My room’s 215.”

“Fuck it. It’s fine, I’ll go.’

She wasn’t going to hear the end of this. Her friends were going to talk so much shit when they found out about this. But right now, she shouldn’t care. After six months, she was going to see Charles. Yes, he was her ex. But can’t two people reconnect? Exe’s could be friendly, she didn't see the wrong in that. Y/n only saw him as a friend. This was just going to be a friendly encounter. Two friends having a late night hang out, nothing special.

Y/n regretted a lot of things in her lifetime, but as Y/n found herself in the back of the uber xl just outside of Charles hotel, she started to think. She tried to think of things she had regretted ever since she met Charles and the only things that came to mind were things she didn’t regret doing, one of them being standing outside of Charles' hotel.

She stumbled into the elevator pressing the second floor button while leaning against her side waiting to see the face she had been missing. As the elevator doors opened patiently slowly she watched the door numbers increase as she walked farther in the hallway. When the number she was looking for came into view, she smiled, her hand hovering over it to knock but before she had the chance to do so, the door quickly opened.

There he was. Charles Leclerc, in all his glory. He looked down at her smiling at her with the smile she had fallen deeply for. She could say she had seen hotter men but seeing him with some loose sweatpants laying on his hips made her feel things she couldn’t even explain. God, when she looked at him her brain just said nonsense and she couldn’t even read her thoughts. All she could think of was the things that were going to happen once she entered that room.

“It’s really nice seeing you again, Y/n. You look beautiful.” Charles said, breaking the intense staring between the two pulling Y/n into a tight hug. Y/n responded missing being between his arms. She hid her face on his neck sensing his strong cologne taking her into an intoxicating trance. Charles' hand slowly wandered Y/n’s back landing on her lower back, rubbing it softly. The pair didn’t want to break their loving embrace, both of them desperately needing it but they also didn’t want to make headlines. So after a few minutes Charles pulled away, leaning past the door letting her scoot past him. Y/n eyes scanned the room, noticing the empty bottles of alcohol around the small room made her finally realize that Charles was in the same state as her. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed resting her hand on her knees looking down at the floor. Charles quickly closed the door behind him, while Y/n moved herself side to side on the bed attempting to get comfortable.

“No need to get all flustered, Y/n. It’s me. Now, I’m really glad you came here Y/n. How’s things? How’s your family and your music career? How's it going?” Charles started looking forward, not daring to look at her. Y/n blinked several times, starting to regret her decision of coming in the first place.

“Stop with the small talk and kiss me already, Charlie

At the sound of the nickname that he missed hearing the past few months. And with that Charles softly pushed Y/n back straddling her. He wasted no time attaching their lips together. Hunger. That’s what it felt like kissing each other after six months. None of them wanted to lose each other. Both of them let out a moan against their lips getting used to the touch they had missed. Y/n flipped them over as she looked down at Jason, pulling away. Charles instantly grabbed her waist, probably leaving a finger marked on her waist. A smirk adorned her lips as she noticed Charles unsteady breathing. Charles sent her a loopy smile and all she could think about was that she didn’t regret being here. She only saw him as a friend, tripping and falling into his bed.

No, it wasn’t a bad idea.

…

Y/n let out a groan as she turned to the side searching for her ringing phone. When she finally got a hold of it she noticed Charles' strong grip on her. She hid a smile as Charles parted lips let out little snores, his eye furrowed unintentionally. For a second Y/n forgot the rigging phone in her hand as her eyes wandered on Charles’ bare chest. Her finger traced on top of the bare skin noticing the marks from the night before. Charles’ eyes fluttered open glaring at her playfully. Y/n snapped back to reality moving her phone towards her eyes answering quickly.

“Finally! Where the hell are you, girl?” Y/n’s friend exclaimed loudly as Y/n pulled the phone away trying not to hear her that loud.

“I decided to go to bed early. That’s all.” Y/n responded while hearing her friend letting out a sigh of relief. As she did that Charles let out a chuckle gaining her friends attention.

“Wait, is there someone with you? Y/n” she exclaimed once again before Charles could say anything Y/n covered his mouth.

Even if it wasn’t a bad idea, her friends didn’t have to know she was under Charles Leclerc sheets.

instagram

y/nxcharlesupdates just posted

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y/nxcharlesupdates Charles showed up to Y/n's Bad Idea Right release party! Glad to see that they are still supporting each other as friends. Stream Bad Idea Rightl!!

ps. the music video for bad idea is out right now!!!

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username friends? friends don't look at each other like that!

username can't believe y/n is looking at charles like that. do remember that that is the same guys she wrote sour about?

→username I can't blame charles he's still hooked on a bad bitch

username what do you mean out now?!

username who's hairy hand is that?

username y/n is just like us

→ username y/n stand up

username a Charles and y/n the world is healing

username she is glowing

→ username obviously, she's getting that dick everyday

instagram

y/n just posted

liked by conangray, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 5,678,897 others

y/n bad idea right? this friday <3. I had such a fun time making this song with @dan_nigro in miami last year. we wrote it as a joke and we loved it so much that we made it into a full song.

view all 2,467 comments

lilymhe on repeat

→ y/n i love you!!

username real music is back!

username y/n dropped a song about her sex life with Charles now that their exe's on their anniversary day

→username and? another song Charles can say it's about him

username what do you mean out now?!

username If I were Charles I would be so proud

username don't worry y/n! it wasn't a bad idea

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

charles_leclerc love the song!

...

thank you for reading!!

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politemenacephd · 2 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara X Reader (+18)

♥ You lose a bet with Miguel at the local bar and have to keep quiet while he gets his 𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭 in the bathroom ♥

Content: Public sex, Voyeurism, PinV sex, Size kink, Silent orgasm, Creampie.

Notes: No gendered terms are used. Reader is described wearing a skirt tho so just be aware x

Word count: 1,200

‘Shh, shh.’

Miguel’s voice filled your ear, his quiet shushing just barely audible.

The low, muffled music from inside the main bar echoed into the quiet stall. It should have been the only noise here, but there was something just beneath it that seemed out of place. The faint sound of rustling fabric, underlined by the soft echo of skin smacking against skin.

Your breath came out in a shaky, stunted pant.

You were holding on for dear life.

You’d gone out drinking with Miguel at your favourite bar. He’d dressed up for the occasion, ditching his suit for tight jeans and a white shirt with a leather jacket on top that was just a little too small, and for the first time you’d decided to go out in a skirt.

You should have noticed he was behaving differently. The usually quiet and stoic man was just a little too jovial, perhaps a little too interested. You’d brushed it off.

It’s been fine at first; you got a few drinks, you chatted about work, but as the night wound on you’d made a fatal mistake. After one too many taunts Miguel had sarcastically placed down a bet, and like a fool you’d taken it.

You should have known he could drink more than you. He was twice your size, and a superhuman to boot. He knew that too, and that’s why he’d made his conditions for winning so specific.

When you inevitably lost you were mortified, yes, but you were anything but untrue to your word.

Now you were in the third stall at the back of the bar bathroom, with your cute little skirt hitched over your thighs and his jeans unzipped, and you were being bounced mercilessly up and down on the end of his enormous cock.

He was being mean about it too. He had one hand on your ass and the other on your face, his calloused thumb pressed to your wet lips, all so he could admire the agony in your face from trying to suppress the screams.

His jeans muffled the sound of you bouncing on his lap, but neither of you could quell how wet you were. The subtle squelch was clear as he rutted between your legs, his thick shaft splitting you open until you oozed slick.

You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand how you’d bitten your hand to stop crying his name when he first pushed in, how he’d seen you drooling and mewling for it as he started to pump.

You shouldn’t have joked he was average sized. You were paying for it now.

You tried to slow down to muffle that erotic noise but he refused. His face was all you could focus on in the tiny stall, and you could see how much he was enjoying this, the sick fuck.

His hazy red eyes, his parted lips, the flash of his tongue as he stifled another groan. You watched his eyes roll as he nuzzled your cervix, bathing in the sensory overload of your tight, wet pussy squeezing the life out of his fat cock.

When his eyes opened again his lips tilted into a smirk. He mouthed the words to you:

‘Sore loser.’

Right as he spoke you felt his bulbous member creaming all over your cervix, smearing you with pre-cum as he thrust up into your guts. You bit your lip so hard it bled, desperate to stop any noise escaping, but fuck it was so hard.

You could hear people laughing as they walked by outside, as your body was jostled up and down on Miguel’s lap.

He was struggling to not pant at this point. You could feel the sweat on his thick, muscled, hairy thighs beneath you. You were both sweaty, both shaking.

His thick fingers dug deep into the fat of your hips as he pounded upward. You winced a little in his grip.

‘Too big?’ he mouthed. You shot him a look that could kill, and he ate it up.

‘So tight’ he mouthed dreamily. ‘So pretty.’

You felt the heat rising in your body as he pumped harder. You could feel his veins pulsing on your soft, squishy walls, and you knew he was painting you with his pre-cum. It was both arousing and embarrassing.

Even if you didn’t get caught here, you’d have to walk back into that bar like nothing happened, covering your ruined panties, knowing his cum was sitting in your tight cunt all the way home.

His eyes narrowed and he licked his fang, his smirk growing bigger. He was thinking the same thing.

In the silence of the stall he continued to fuck you hard. He wanted to ride this out, to have you ride him until you could barely walk, but it felt too good. He could feel his muscles tightening with a desire to fill you, own you, to empty out all of his seed into that perfect wet space.

But he needed one more thing first. With a soft grunt he moved his hand, lifting your skirt up so he could watch his cock impaling your creamy little pussy, before settling his thumb over your clit.

‘MMF—’

You tugged at his shirt, your face screwed up tight as you shook your head. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t be quiet. You were dripping slick onto his stupid jeans, you were about to cum all over his stupid cock. He dug his nails in hard as he pushed you, throwing you back on his lap as he fucked you into submission.

‘Do it’ he mouthed at you dumbified face, ‘do it. Do it.’

It was right at that moment that the bathroom door swung open. A flood of noise filled the room as a group of girls came in to touch up their makeup in the bathroom mirror, forcing you to bite your hand again.

It felt too good to stop. You didn’t care if you got caught.

Their laughter just barely covered the sound of your orgasm. You trembled in agony as you spasmed on his cock, and with that smug grin still on his lips he rode out every second of your pleasure. With wide and manic eyes Miguel came with you.

You felt everything. You felt his cock pulse and expand as he shot the first spurt of cum inside you, hot and thick and warm, and then the next, and the next, and the next. You felt his clawed fingers digging into your hips so hard that it left a mark. You saw his eyes rolling, his fangs digging into his lower lip to stop screaming.

Through the haze of pleasure, you took the smallest bit of victory in knowing Miguel would have screamed your name too.

He emptied himself inside you before carefully lifting you off his lap.

He was kind enough to help you stand, and to help pull your panties and tights up. He had the gall to kiss you on the cheek as he stood, his own legs unphased by what he’d done, and then he did the worst thing imaginable.

He pushed open the stall door and left.

You heard the girls all go silent as he strolled past and out of the main door. You heard the continued silence as you stood, shaking, in the now open stall, just barely concealed from their curious eyes. You clung to the wall and closed your eyes.

‘You… fucking asshole’ you hissed.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #smut #+18 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara imagine

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3lushkiii · 20 days

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Soaked nightmare - Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

Synopsis: Ex-boyfriend Sukuna is struggling with your absence, stumbles to your apartment a mess.

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CW: alcohol, self harm, violence, other self-destructive behavior

This is my first ever one-shot! Any constructive criticism is very much appreciated! (P.S: English isn’t my first language, sorry if i use any words with the incorrect meaning!)

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Sukuna has always been a beast. He was rash, impulsive, downright stupid. He still is. He knew that, he was especially aware of it while dating you three years ago.

You were like a wisp of smoke in his hand, disappearing into the air as soon as he had his hands on you. He grabbed you once, clenched his fist tight, and prayed you’d stay.

Sukuna stopped drinking, stoped going to that shitty bar in the worst part of town just to come back home black or blue, or to not come home at all. You’d find him splattered outside your doorstep like a puddle after a few too many whiskeys, mumbling incoherently.

With you Sukuna was different, he’d try his hardest to be quiet, to be calm. He knew you deserved it, deserved a million times more than what that he could give. He enjoyed it while it lasted, how you willingly put your hands on him, how you made him a crazy good omelette sometimes, how you kissed his temple before bed. He wondered why you weren’t scared, why this scarred and tattooed man didn’t make you shake like a leaf in the wind. But he was glad he didn’t.

You knew he could do whatever if he wished, even hurt you, it always lingered in the back of your head, but it never surfaced. Not until that day, in a fit of anger, a petty argument about him disregarding his health, his job, his life—his large palm collided with your cheek. His head got too loud, the thoughts he felt you drowned out only got louder. He knew he fucked up, when he saw the words die on your tongue, when he saw you freeze over in shock. He knew then and there, that he’d forever lost you. He saw the thoughts you’d never considered as possible surface in your mind.

And as you left, he realized he never held that tantalizing wisp of smoke. He just kept his fist closed and assumed it was in his grip. That you were tied to him like he was tied to you—and in an instant, his North Star, his guiding light, left him.

Sukuna doesn’t know how he found himself at your apartment door, absolutely soaked in the rain, droplets trickling down familiar pink strands of hair. He looks down at you, that familiar face, and he almost feels like he can see the red mark on your cheek from years ago. The guilt gnaws at his insides, like a parasitic alien in his gut. And the only way this so called ‘parasite’ would stop tormenting him is with random flings, alcohol, tattoos, and the occasional pain—inflicted either by a random fight he’d start, or by his own means. Anything to dull the pain of the gaping hole your absence left in him.

His gaze was all you needed, you gave a simple nod and stepped aside to allow him into the familiar apartment you owned. Sukuna sat down on the leather couch in your apartment, silent as a mouse. The apartment is clean, cleaner than we he stayed here, filling the place with the scent of cigarettes, throwing around beer bottles galore. His gaze is downturned, and he brushes strands of his hair aside, ignoring the wet footsteps he left on your pristine hardwood floors—he muttered out a “Just for the night.” And you complied.

You grabbed a spare indigo blanket and a pillow, giving them to him quietly. Its still tense, staring at the man you used to hold dear like he’s a stranger. He offers a nod in acknowledgment, scarred hands grabbing the soft blanket and pillow as he lays down, in a familiar apartment, with a person he holds dear, but far out of his reach. That wisp of smoke. That wisp of smoke who let a wretch like Sukuna still stay at their clean apartment after he put his hands on them. He could never forgive himself.

He stares at the ceiling, his soaked clothes sticking to his body like a second skin. He wants to let out a sob, he’s sorry, he’s so very sorry about what he’s done to you. If only he could crawl into your embrace just this once, sleep without those agonizing dreams replaying in his head of the night you left, of the silence in his apartment, of the passing days where he felt all traces of your presence fade. The cleanliness, the smell, the cooking, it was all gone.

He presses the base of his palm over his face, nearly pushing his eyes out on the other side of his head. He even sees those little rainbow flashes of light under his eyelids. He really cant tell when his eyes are open or closed from the dark, except for the sliver of light coming from the crack in your door. You always were like a guiding light, how touché.

He knows it’s wrong, he shouldn’t have snuck into your bed. But he misses you, how he misses your tender kiss, how those compliments and promises at something more slipped from your lips like you were made to say them. He’s just so sorry, sorry for wetting your bed with his clothes, sorry for ever raising a hand to you, for driving you away from him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he relishes in your warmth. He never forgets what pushing you away did to him. It ruined him, permanently scarred him, literally.

“Sorry.” He mutters once more, noticing your eyes flutter open. He just wants you to let him have this, this one thing. He may just go mad if he’s denied this, if he cant be next to you anymore. God, maybe he already is crazy. He yearns for your simple warmth, this touch, more than the flings, than the passionate embraces with other women. The vile things he’s done in bed with others can never measure up to you. He may never admit how much he years for true intimacy instead of a fleeting touch from a random blond at the bar.

“Sukuna?” Your eyes flutter open, the uncomfortable feeling of water on your neck jolts you awake. Your voice is quiet, holding a twinge of confusion more than any fear. It’s beginning to be hard to fear a man who just seems so… small.

“M’cold, soaked to the fuckin’ bone,” Sukuna’s response is quick, but quiet, the same old rough voice. Its not how it was, yet why does he sound like it is? He’s burried in the crook of your neck, his weight pressed against your body as he lays there. His breath hits your skin, feeling more and more uneven with each breath. “Sorry, i forgot to give you a towel.” You apologize softly, your features contorting into a mix of regret and pity. He doesn’t seem alright, he looks like a wet cat. Sukuna feels pathetic, he knows he looks like a damn puppy on the side of the street. He’s never thrown his pride aside so easily, so quickly for a sliver of the paradise that is your embrace.“Yeah, I’m fucking soaked.” He scoffs, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt, his tone more harsh than intended. When has he ever been okay in the few years since your split? He can’t remember the last time he was alright without you. It doesn’t really exist.

He’s a hollow husk parading around like a man, filling his life with booze, sex, violence and substances to see if it’ll drown out the voice in his head scorning him for his stupidity. At how he pushed the walking angel he’s laying on out of his life so carelessly, how he had the sheer audacity to think he could lay a hand on you.

He grumbles, the words unable to leave his lips as he nuzzles the column of your throat. His expression almost hard to decipher. Like those paintings where you cant tell if the subject is looking at you or away from you—you cant tell if he’s sad or just numb. “M sorry, fuck—” His voice cracked, breath hitching. He couldn’t cry, monsters like him didn’t have the right to tears. “Just needed ya’.”

“Let’s get you dry, sit down.” You mumble, your voice quiet from being recently woken from your sleep. Sukuna freezes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s surprised. Surprised at how easily you command him without even trying. He sits down, looking over at you without a word.

You come back to the room with a towel and some clothes, and he eyes the sweatpants and hoodie carefully. Something seems familiar, but he cant place his finger on it. “You couldn’t sleep?” You ask, standing in front of him, a towel on his head as you dry his hair yourself. Sukuna has never been the best at caring for himself, it always felt better when you did it. He cared for himself most when he was with you, because it made you smile at him, look up at him with that pretty expression. “Nah,” he says dryly, looking down, not a word of protest to his hair being dried like hes a child. Honestly he enjoys it, enjoys feeling your touch. No matter if this pesky towel is in the way.

He holds the fresh clothes in his hands, looking down as he comes to a realization. Thats his hoodie, these clothes are all his. The cigarette burns carefully etched into the black cotton, the fading grafic of a band he knows you don’t like on the front. He wondered where this hoodie went, he thought he’d just lost it. But you kept it, you kept his hoodie after all this. It just makes him feel like a monster.

He curses himself for hoping it brought you comfort, he curses himself for even daring to think you were comforted by a little remanent of him in your life. He should assume you kept his hoodie in a box under your bed, collecting dust. But when he’s hit with the sweet scent of you from the hoodie, his assumptions are proven right. You wore the damn thing, your familiar smell is woven into the fibers of the hoodie. He wished he could weave you into the fibers of himself, he could laugh at himself for envying a hoodie.

“How’ve you been, Sukuna?” You ask casually, trying to lighten the mood as you dry his hair. “Fine,” he spits out, the only words he can say right now are ‘fine’ or ‘sorry’. You look down at him, a frown on your face from the lack of detail. He stands up abruptly, peeling off his soaked shirt as he wears the hoodie. It smells like you. He finds himself bringing the collar of the hoodie up to his nose just to get a whiff of your comforting scent, like a man starved. He carefully slips the sweatpants on, the soaked clothes a little puddle of fabric on the floor as he sits back down.

You worry, worry about what hes doing, because he doesn’t appear to be fine. Far from it. “That’s not what i asked.” You say, your voice a bit firmer. You expect a response, a real response to your question instead of a nod or a hum. “S’been shit,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he speaks in that gruff tone of voice. He isn’t really living, just making it through the days. He’s waiting out his clock, counting the days since you left. What is there to even do when the one person who kept him anchored to this shithole of a world left? All because of him.

“Drink, smoke, fuck, work, repeat” He says, trying to be a bit more specific to make this simple conversation last a bit longer. Anything to hear your sweet voice, no matter what you say to him. Cuss him out, say he’s a prick, tell him he has no future, he wont care. The way you dry his hair, care for him so tenderly, he’ll never care. He just yearns to be yours again. “Thats all?” You ask softly, trying to keep your obvious judgement to yourself. Hes not your boyfriend anymore, you have no right to nag at him to be healthy or careful anymore. But oh, how he longs to hear you nag at him again. “Just that?” You question, raising a brow in curiosity. “Nothing else?”

Sukuna looks up at you, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as his shoulders drop. “Can’t seem to stay out of trouble without ya, y’know?” he mumbles, trying to resist the urge to pull you closer, to feel you one more time. He just doesn’t know what else to say, he cant admit all the stupid things hes done without you there. How he went totally batshit crazy once, how he nearly died choking on his own vomit when he drowned himself in alcohol. He cant tell you all the new scars he’s inflicted on himself, all the substances he takes, all the times he’s been taken to the police station for another petty bar fight.

“Any new tattoos?” You ask, looking down at him. Sukuna nods, scratching his scalp as he speaks. “Few,” he replies. “A couple random ones. This one—“ he pulls the fabric of his sleeve up, exposing a tattoo on his forearm. Kanji going vertically down the limb, with delicate vines and flower blooming in between the bold ink. “Is for you. Always regretted driving you away.” His admission is vulnerable, crimson eyes scanning your face to gauge your reaction. Its definitely for you, Sukuna doesn’t get these delicate and soft tattoos. You expected maybe a heart or something with your initial, but this is art. It’s something he got done while sober, thats obvious.

“For me?” Your brows raise in surprise, a bit confused. You grab his arm, looking at the tattoo more intently. “This was a bad decision, you know that, right?” You say in frustration, slightly frustrated to still be tied to a man you tried your hardest to forget.

“Course it was a bad decision.” He replies nonchalantly, trying to ignore the weird feeling in his chest. “Ain’t that what I’m best at?” He’s been a wreck without you, even got a tattoo to keep any part of you with him. Trying to drown out his head in anything, leaning toward alchool and nicotine for the normal days, substances and violence for the days that were quite hard to deal with. He remembers the day he got the tattoo vividly, which is a surprise considering any days without you faded from his memory as soon as they came. His head felt full of you, and nothing else.

“For all its worth—“ You pause, looking down at him with a slight frown. You gaze at the tattoo once more, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and art is subjective. But his memento to you, “It’s beautiful.” You comment softly, deciding not to scorn his decision this time. And it truly is beautiful.

“Means alot,” his voice holds a twinge of joy, hands move up to grasp at the towel, inked fingers brushing against yours. “You… it’s late, you should sleep.” His tone lacks any true conviction, his gaze moving up to your face, trying to read your expression. And the pity and concern on your face makes him want to rip his hair out. “I can’t let you sleep with wet hair, you’ll get a headache.” You comment, carefully drying strands of poorly dyed pink hair. Sukuna wants to reach out and pull you close, to wrap his arms around you and hit himself as many times as you say just to get your forgiveness.

“I’ve been through plenty of headaches, baby.” He says, eyes falling shut as he forces himself to stay awake. The nickname leaves his lips so naturally, he forgets he has no right to call you that anymore. He cant do anything without knowing you forgive him or not. He wants you back, he needs you back or he might just lose it. He can feel himself unravel by the day, he’s almost lost his grip. Didn’t know how much he needed you till you were gone.

“Sukuna, you alright?” You break the long silence, features the picture of a worried lover. It makes his heart clench. Just look at you, how could you gaze at a man like him with such tenderness? How do you touch him without recoiling in disgust? God, how he misses you.

“Do i look alright to you?”

“Not really...”

“Exactly.”

You look down at him, a heavy breath leaving your chest as you remove the towel, looking down at him. His eyes seem glazed over, like hes not fully in the moment. Sukuna knows you see it, and hes trying not to focus on you too much or he might just burst into ugly tears. “Missing ya, every second of every day.” He mumbles, gently taking your hands as he allows the briefest brush of his lips across your knuckles.

“Do i scare you?” He blurts out.

“What?”

“I won’t blame you if i do, just tell me.”

You pause for a moment, looking down at him as he holds your hands close to his lips. “Not right now.”

“Other times?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He cocks a brow. “Like when i hit you?”

Your voice is awkward, your gaze averted from his tender affections. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He cranes his head up to gaze at you, breathing deeply to steady himself. He almost thought you’d be joking, but seeing your expression solidifies it for him. He’s been thrown off guard. He knew he frightened you that day, hearing you admit it is just more horrid. He just wishes he wasn’t so damn scary. “‘M sorry,” The words can’t form in his brain, let alone leave his lips.

Apologize to her, say something! Im sorry, im sorry for hitting you, im sorry, i love you!

“I still care about you, ya know?”

“I know, Sukuna.”

“You care too.”

“...”

“Been shit without you, baby. Im going crazy here.” He chucks dryly, not a hint of humor in his tone. It’s not funny, he’s serious, he’s off the rails without you. He needs you there, to keep him on a leash, to be there for him, to put your hand on his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t blow up at some granny in the grocery store for being slow. To gently help him after a hangover, to clean his bloody knuckles after another fight.

“You’re not crazy. Just hurting.”

“In other words—im crazy.”

“Its been years, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why all of this? Why are you hurting? The tattoo, coming to my house, looking at me like… that!” You blow up, face the picture of hurt as you look down at him. Why does he torment you like this? You already struggled with the split, he cant come to your house and look at you so sweetly, speak so gently.

“Cause i need ya,” he mumbles, fingers intertwining with yours. “Cause i love you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Its the truth, you know I’m bad at lying to ya’.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I want you to hear it.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader

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