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akaridream · 9 months

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all the right buttons: part 2 GOKU (college AU goku x reader)

alright goku fuckers, come get y'all juice

and don't worry geta lovers, you'll get yours soon too

You stared at the coin in your hand, anxiously rubbing your thumb over it. The only way to discover your true feelings was to flip it. Heads for Goku, tails for Vegeta.

The coin sailed through the air. You captured it between your palms and flipped it onto the back of one hand. Eyes opening, you lifted your hand. Heads.

YOU: ummm i guess i felt like i had a slightly better connection with goku?

You climbed into bed and laid in the darkness, wiggling your toes impatiently between your bed sheets. Your stomach floated nervously within you, waiting for her response. What if your guess was wrong? Would you be disappointed if it was Vegeta? No, certainly not disappointed. But there would be at least a tinge of FOMO in your heart at the thought of missing out on Goku. He seemed so sweet and easy to get along with. But perhaps he was just a nice guy with everyone and you were nothing special to him. Whatever the case, you jolted when your phone finally buzzed with Bulma’s reply.

BULMA: as soon as you left, goku said you were cool and that you should come over again soon :) and he said you were really pretty An automatic smile spread across your face and you kicked your feet up with a delighted squeal.

YOU: omg i’ll come over right now if he wants haha

BULMA: easy tiger :) i gave him your number and told him to hit you up, so hopefully you’ll be hearing from him v soon

YOU: did you tell him anything I said about him? Did you put in a good word for me?

BULMA: I told him you’re super sweet and lots of fun to be around, but he was already kinda smitten and didnt need much encouragement. it was actually really cute

Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. Then your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: hey, it’s goku! i got your number from bulma, i hope thats alright

You stomped your feet on the bed, pleasantly surprised that he was texting you already. This guy doesn’t play games!

YOU: omg hey! ofc thats okay! I know I can trust bulma not to give my number to creeps. I had a great time playing with you today!

GOKU: yeah me too! I’ll have to dig out some other games we can play together sometime

YOU: I’m absolutely down for another game sesh! Wish I still had all my old games, I’d bring some

GOKU: just bring yourself and I’m sure we can find something to play! theres actually an old tenkaichi tournament movie, we could try and find it somewhere and watch it

YOU: ive heard its actually a horrible movie! but that isn’t gonna stop me, i love making fun of bad movies

GOKU: haha cool! Vegeta and I always go to the gym friday afternoons, but I’m free after 5 or so. We could order some food and just hang out here

Wow, he really doesn’t beat around the bush! Straight to asking me to hang out already?

YOU: that sounds great! And will your roommates be joining us?

GOKU: they’ll probably be around. But i was kind of hoping it might just be you and me

YOU: i think i’d like that :) so it’s a date then?

GOKU: yeah, if that’s okay with you

YOU: definitely okay with me! I can bring some drinks if you want

GOKU: yeah sure! You like chinese takeout? Theres an awesome place just off campus I order from all the time, they give you sooo much food

YOU: yeah, that sounds great to me. I’m sure you need big portions, you’re a growing boy after all!

For the rest of the week, you texted Goku without the conversation coming to a natural end. As midday turned into Friday afternoon, an anxious, fluttery feeling flooded your stomach. What should you wear? What should you do with your hair? What about makeup? In the end, you opted for a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, a cute camisole with lace trim and an oversized cozy cardigan that kept falling off your shoulder. The peek of skin would be enticing, if he was interested in hooking up of course. And you certainly weren’t against that idea. Since the day you met him, you had been thinking about climbing all over him, especially right into his lap…

You put your hair up into a clip and dotted your cheeks and lips with a soft glow. After a touch of mascara, you admired yourself in your full length mirror. Scrubbed, shaved and smelling lightly of perfume, you felt confident in your natural beauty. Your heart danced in your chest when your phone buzzed with a text from Goku, saying to come over whenever you were ready. You grabbed the case of chilled vodka soda from your dorm fridge and headed across campus.

By the time you arrived at Bulma and Goku’s front door, your cheeks were aching from smiling so much. Your heart still twirling like a ballerina, you knocked and awaited your date’s appearance.

The door swung open, revealing Goku in a tight black tee and another pair of short shorts in bright orange. He grinned and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Hey! Good to see ya!” he said, giving you a brief but warm hug as you stepped over the threshold. Your arms snaked around his thin waist, pleasantly aware of having his hard body flush against yours.

“Good to see you again too, Goku! How was your workout?” you asked as he led you into the kitchen.

“Great! Vegeta hit a PR on bench today, so that was cool!”

You tilted your head as he took the case of vodka soda from you and put it in the fridge. “What’s a PR?”

He blinked. “Oh! Personal record. Sorry, I forgot you aren’t a gym rat like me,” he said, shyly scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, Bulma left this for us by the way.” Goku tapped a knuckle on a bottle of white wine with a fancy label.

“Oh my gosh, that looks expensive!” you said as you examined it. “But what a sweetheart she is! I’ll have to tell her thank you!”

Goku led you to the living room where the game console and old TV had been shoved to the corner and Bulma’s fancy flat screen once again dominated the space. A new coffee table sat in front of the couch as well.

“She’s been busting my balls all week about you,” he said with a shy chuckle as he plopped onto the couch.

“Oh yeah?” you asked in a teasing voice. “What about me?” A warm blush started to overtake Goku’s cheeks. He smiled and shrugged. “Just that she’s happy to see me take interest in someone, I guess. Apparently she thinks its about time!”

You sat on the couch and propped your arm over the back, turned to face Goku. “Has it been a while since you dated someone then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, since high school. I had a long term thing with this one girl but it didn’t end so great. She was a bit of a hot-head. But since her… I haven’t even been on a date. Just been trying to sort my own stuff out, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not the most experienced with relationships either. Shit’s complicated,” you laughed.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, you’re telling me!” His phone buzzed. “Alright, dinner’s here! Be right back!” His eyes grew wide with excitement and he raced out the door before you could even reply. He came back just as quick and unloaded a surprising amount of food onto the coffee table.

“Are you sure you ordered enough?” you asked sarcastically.

Goku furrowed his brows and looked over the selection of takeout containers. “Well, I thought five entrees might be enough, but I’ll be happy to order more if you want!”

You laughed and opened a pair of chopsticks. “I was kidding! This looks like enough to feed my entire family back home!”

His frown quickly inverted and he grinned. “Oh, okay, good! Should we break out what you brought to drink or try Bulma’s fancy wine?”

“Let’s have the wine with the movie, I think,” you suggested, padding over to the fridge and grabbed a drink for each of you.

Per usual with Goku, conversation was steady and comfy. You chatted and laughed as you sat on the floor across the coffee table from each other, both of your cell phones sitting untouched. “Is this table new?” you asked.

Goku nodded as he scarfed down some lo mein. “Yeah, Bulma bought a new one because Vegeta and I kind of broke the last one.” You sputtered a laugh. “How on earth did you manage to break a coffee table?”

“Well, we were just kind of goofing around and Vegeta slipped and… Fell right through it! It was all glass, he complained about it being invisible all the time anyway. Bulma is convinced he did it on purpose because he hated it!”

You covered your mouth full of food and laughed heartily. “That is hilarious! But what the hell do you mean you were just goofing around?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, just… Goofin’ off like guys do?”

“Sounds just like my brothers,” you said, shaking your head.

You finished your meal, with Goku eating the lion’s share of the food. You didn’t mind, he clearly required more calories than you did. As he was clearing away all the takeout containers, you watched him in the kitchen from behind. His wide shoulders and slutty waist made your head feel light. Or was it the vodka soda?

“You ready to bust out this bottle of wine?” he called over his shoulder.

Your eyes grazed over his silhouette, admiring his stellar ass in those tiny shorts. “Sure, let’s do it!”

Goku rummaged around in the kitchen drawers. “Crap, I have no idea where to find a corkscrew.”

You rose from your place on the living room floor to help him look. “Well I sure hope you at least know how to use one, because I sure don’t! I only ever buy the cheap wine with the screw top.”

Goku bumped into you, then placed a hand on your hip to navigate around you in the kitchen. You blushed at the contact.

“Bulma’s not here, is she?” you asked. “We could ask her if she knows where it is.”

“No, she said she was heading back to West City to see her parents this weekend. And Vegeta said he’d be out late tonight.”

Way at the back of a stuck drawer, you felt a spiral shape. You turned and twisted it until the drawer could move again, finally able to extract the object. You held it up with a bright smile.

“Ta-da!” you said.

“Hey, nice!” Goku said, giving you a high-five. He took the corkscrew and carefully opened the fancy bottle to pour you both a glass.

You returned to the living room with two stemless crystal glasses as Goku made a quick trip to his bedroom.

“The library had the Tenkaichi movie on DVD!” he called down the hall as he returned. You sat on the edge in the middle of the couch, watching him lean over to load the DVD into the player. Those damn shorts are giving me heart palpitations, you thought. His body is godly.

Cheeks growing warmer by the second, you slid your cardigan off one shoulder for some much-needed cool air. You caught Goku’s eyes taking you in as he turned around, peeking at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“How’s it taste?” Goku asked, his voice quiet and soft.

You raised the crystal and gave it a swirl before taking a sip. You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose as you swallowed the aromatic liquid, a trail of pleasant warmth growing in your chest.

“Expensive,” you said. You both laughed.

Goku grabbed the remote and sat on your right, his left arm automatically fanning over the back of the couch cushion. Once he started the movie, he exchanged the remote for his glass of wine, taking a sizable swig.

“Hm, it’s sweeter than I expected. The last time I tried wine, I felt like it sucked all the moisture out of my mouth,” Goku said.

You took another sip. “Yeah, this one is nice and mild. I could drink the whole bottle of this,” you said, your head starting to feel pleasantly heavy.

Eager to move closer to your date, you sat back into the couch and tucked your feet up, leaning onto your hip. There was still space between the two of you, but it was Goku’s turn to come to you next.

The movie began with a vibrant action scene, filling the dark room with bright flashes of light. After draining half of his glass, Goku leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. When he leaned back, he closed the small gap between you, nestling your shoulder under his wing on the back of the couch. A rush filled you immediately, and you happily leaned your weight into his firm torso. At that, Goku moved his arm from the couch cushion to rest across your shoulders. Another pleasing rush of adrenaline raced through you. You licked your lips and sipped on the wine.

“This okay?” he said, barely above a whisper.

You gave a smile and warm mm-hmm before placing your glass on the table and snuggling up to him even more. His thighs spread slightly, making his leg press into yours. Like chess opponents trading moves, you thought about what your next move should be. Your mind flashed back to the last time you saw Goku. That blue tank top had shown off his pecs just right…

Biting your lip, you leaned your head over to rest your burning cheek against his chest. With your ear pressed to him, you could hear his heart beating wildly. The excitement of snuggling up with such a handsome guy was not lost on you, as your heart was purring like an engine. His pecs really did make for a great pillow.

Goku began brushing his fingers softly over your exposed shoulder. You sighed happily and relaxed into his touch.

“You’re comfy,” you said as you worked your arms around his waist. He leaned back, pulling you into him even more.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, heart leaping at the compliment.

As the movie progressed, you paid less attention to it and more to every fiber of Goku’s body. After polishing off your glasses of wine and feeling delightfully buzzed, you curled up even further into him, feet tucked up and thighs falling over onto his. Your head also migrated from resting atop his muscular chest to nuzzling into his neck. All it would take would be a subtle movement to start kissing his neck…

It took a while to muster the courage to make such a bold move. It was only your first date after all. Perhaps this was moving too fast. But he really did seem into you. And you were undoubtedly into him. While gently petting your hand over his chest, you parted your lips, and allowed a steamy breath to escape and tickle his neck. His heart began to drum hard enough for you to feel. You let your lips touch his skin with a feather-light press. Goku’s dark eyes slid closed with your next kiss, the fullness of your gorgeous mouth lighting up each nerve along his neck. You gave a gentle suck to it, causing a sweet sigh to fall from his lips. You trailed your hand up to hold the opposite side of his neck as your tongue began to tease him with tiny kitten licks, then bold circles.

Goku’s hand went from your shoulder to the back of your head, guiding you. You felt his pulse pound as you kissed him. His other hand found your wrist and squeezed.

“Hah,” he breathed. “Need to kiss you.”

You pulled back enough to look at his handsome face. His cheeks were pleasantly pink and his eyes were dazed and dreamy behind his frames. He took your chin with one hand and brought your mouth up to his, finally letting your hot breaths intermingle before he sweetly caressed your lips with his own. Goku’s tongue softly brushed over your lip, silently pleading for yours. You obliged and his tongue invaded to massage yours. Every movement was slow and sensual, tender yet incredibly erotic.

While shifting yourself to face Goku more fully, your leg brushed past something hard, and you were certain it wasn’t just his meaty thighs. Your core heated and revved like a racecar. Unable to keep them suppressed, sighs and heavy breaths from Goku encouraged you to continue kissing.

“W-wait,” Goku said, pulling away slightly. “You aren’t too drunk for this, are you?”

You pulled back further and looked at him, his black eyes full of concern. Your heart clenched. What a sweetheart!

“No,” you giggled, pulling his glasses off and placing them next to your empty wine glasses. “I may be a bit buzzed, but I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. And I don’t intend to stop.”

With that, you climbed over Goku to straddle his lap. Without the black frames, his eyes shone with gentleness, and lust. Using his shoulders for support, you adjusted yourself atop his lap until you found exactly what you were looking for. His lips fell open with a sharp, breathy groan.

“This okay?” you asked as you returned your mouth to his.

Goku kissed you between heated breaths as he gripped your thighs. “Hahh, yeah. Definitely.”

You shrugged off your cardigan and tossed it aside as you made out. One of your hands worked into Goku’s wild hair as his hands wandered up to your hips. He pulled you towards him, chest to chest, and your tight jean shorts gave you both a taste of delicious friction. That made him shove his tongue messily down your throat, like he was slowly fucking your mouth. You whined, grinding your hips down. He responded with a tight squeeze to your ass.

“I’ve… I’ve never really done this whole hooking up thing before,” he admitted.

You scratched his scalp lightly, making his eyes flutter in pleasure. “We don’t have to go any further.”

“But that’s the problem,” he said, kissing your throat. “I don’t wanna stop. You’re really hot and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

You giggled as his lips trailed down to your collarbone, sweet sensations filling you from head to core. “Then by all means, continue.”

“You gotta tell me if you wanna stop, or if I go too far.” He slid the strap of your cami and kissed your shoulder.

“Okay. And you do, too,” you breathed as his fingers softly traced your arm.

Just the touch of his hands was enough to make your eyes fall closed in bliss, and you wanted his big hands all over you. Under your shirt, on your waist, in your shorts…

“Can’t believe you aren’t bringing girls back every night. You’re so fucking hot,” you said as he sucked on your pulse point.

He smirked and took your cheek in in his palm. “I’m not a fuck boy. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” He gave you the most saccharine kiss yet, making you melt completely in his lap. “Which reminds me…” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. “This… Isn’t just gonna be a one time thing, is it? Because I really do like you, and I want to get to know you.”

You smiled and put your hands on his gorgeous chest. “I like you too, Goku. And I’d love to get to know you better, and make out with you more, too.”

He gave a glowing smile and endearing chuckle. If he were any cuter, you feared your heart may burst. “Yeah, I really like kissing you. Like, a lot.”

And so you did just that. Desperate yet tender, Goku’s tongue reconnected with yours as your hips began to roll against his. Those shorts of his were blessedly thin, and your tight denim put pressure right on your sweet spot.

“Mm, touch me more,” you pleaded.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

You took Goku’s lower lip between your teeth as his big hands roamed freely. His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, then boldly over the fullness of them just as your hips hitched against his stiff cock print. A moan ripped from your throat.

You gripped the back of the couch on either side of Goku’s head and started working your hips into a rhythm. It was agonizingly slow for him, just enough stimulation to tease and make him want more. Foreheads sealed together, mouths exchanging breaths, you humped his lap as he tenderly squeezed your tits.

“Can you go faster?” he asked, a desperate tremble to his voice. You grinned and did as he asked while bringing your chest close to his face. He pressed your breasts together and kissed the tops of them, slightly pulling down the top of your camisole. You slid the straps off your shoulders and pulled the shirt down to expose your tits to him. Goku’s eyes shone brightly as they drank you in. “Fuck. You’re perfect,” he praised, circling his thumbs over your nipples.

“Use your mouth.”

He obeyed immediately, placing delicate kisses over one while softly pinching the other. You sighed and rewarded him by continuing to hump him. But he teased you, only lightly lapping your nipple with his sweet tongue.

“Mm, harder,” you whined.

Goku proved to be pleasantly obedient, taking your directions well. He sucked and pulled back to let your tit bounce, then sought your eyes for approval. You groaned in pleasure and mussed his hair, forcing his head back to your chest. One of his large hands supported your upper back, the other smearing saliva over your pert nipple. The telltale tingle between your thighs was beginning to grow steadily. Based on the way he was whining and bucking underneath you, Goku was feeling good, too.

“Damnit, please don’t make me ruin these shorts by cumming in them,” he begged.

You slowed your pace and lifted Goku’s chin. “Where do you want to cum then?”

His pupils wide in awe, he failed to form any coherent words. “I… Well, wha…”

“Aw, did I make you dumb already, big boy?” you patronized.

“I was never that smart to begin with.” His expression was dreamy and he stared up at you like you were a goddess.

You giggled and stood up. “Why don’t you let me finish you off?”

You got on your knees between his, your breasts still exposed and holding his attention. Your soft hands rubbed up his sculpted thighs, sneaking under the hem of his shorts. His eyes met yours as you palmed his aching cock. His perfectly kissable lips hung open as you teased him, and his throaty little moans each sent a pulse straight to your pussy.

As you pulled at the waistband of his shorts, you saw two wet spots of precum had soaked through, a sign of a job well done by you. Goku lifted his hips and pulled down the obstruction to reveal his gloriously sized dick. You almost growled at the sight, feral with desire.

“Holy shit,” you said, eyes devouring the perfect specimen before you. The tip was fat and shiny, begging for your lips to wrap around it. “This still okay?”

He blew a puff of air through his nose. “Of course.”

You wrapped your index finger and thumb around his thick cock, teasing up and down his shaft slowly. He tried to strangle his moan in his throat. You met his eyes as he reclined and you lightly pressed a kiss to his tip, then trailed more kisses down one side of his length. You never would have guessed he could made such sinful sounds from his candy-sweet personality, but each noise weakened you. Eye contact still unbroken, your lips finally enveloped his cockhead, then pulled off with an obscene slurp. One hand on his shaft and the other squeezing his thigh, you circled your tongue around Goku’s beautiful cock. Worshipping it with your mouth and hearing his vocal approval made you clench your leg muscles, stimulating yourself.

“Decided where you wanna cum yet?” you asked as you licked up the underside, making him shudder.

“Ahh… I’m really not picky,” he chuckled.

With that, you started sucked him off with purpose and vigor, eager to hear his whines of pleasure. Your saliva dripped down, making a mess of him as your hand twisted and pulled. You kept constant pressure and pleasure on him, making his moans pitch up. They came in short, desperate bursts and you finally dove deep, taking his entire length down your throat in one swift motion. As you lifted to dive down again, Goku gripped the arm of the couch with one hand and guided your head with the other. While his touch was light on you, you feared his intense strength might rip the upholstery of the poor couch.

“Ahh, almost there!” Goku cried, hips beginning to twitch.

End in sight, you watched his face as you sucked him. A few final strokes and one beastly growl had him shooting hot strings down your throat. His brows knit together tightly, mouth hanging open, head tossing. He writhed in pleasure as you slowed, swallowing every drop he offered you. And it was a lot. You swallowed at least three times, taking more cum each time. Even when your mouth left him, tiny beads formed at the slit of his cock. You smeared them with you thumb, then licked him clean.

“Hope you didn’t mind that I decided for you,” you panted, proud of your hard work.

Goku slumped on the couch wearing a dazed expression. “I can barely move. Damn,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But what can I do for you now?”

Just as a grin started to form, the sound of someone unlocking the front door jolted you both out of your haze. Your eyes grew wide.

“Vegeta’s back already?” Goku whispered, frantically stuffing himself back inside his shorts as you fixed your shirt. You stood quickly enough to make your head spin and grabbed your empty wine glasses to busy yourself. Just as you made it to the kitchen to wash the glasses (and your hand covered in spit and cum), Vegeta shoved his way through the front door. You gave him a soapy-handed wave.

“Hey Vegeta,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t take a long enough look at you to notice your flushed face, neck, and chest. Thankfully, he just gave you a grunt in reply.

“You’re back early,” Goku said, a lilt in his voice.

“Not really,” Vegeta grumbled, barely giving Goku a glance as he passed. His bedroom door shut with a stern thud.

“Sounds like he had a bad day,” you mused.

Goku stood from the couch and replaced his eyeglasses. “Well, yeah. He’s jealous that you picked me over him.”

Your heart screeched to a halt. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head and padded over to you at the sink. “Bulma said that you said you had a better connection with me.”

Your cheeks began to burn. “She told you I said that? But she said one of you asked about me! She told me to guess which one! I couldn’t decide which of you I liked better, so she… That Bulma!” You dried your hands and tossed the dish towel onto the counter, pouting that Bulma had tricked you into making a decision. “Wait, so neither one of you actually asked her about me?”

Goku smiled warmly. “Actually, we both did. As soon as Vegeta got back from his lab, we had an argument about which one of us was gonna get to ask you out. Bulma overheard us and told us she’d figure out who you liked better!”

“But I just flipped a coin! Literally, I couldn’t decide!” you laughed.

“You did? So you didn’t really pick me at all, did you?” Goku asked, looking like a kicked puppy.

You stood on your toes and reached your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.

“Fate picked you for me. And for the record, I’m really, really glad it was you, Goku.” His hands held your waist as he returned your kiss. When you pulled back, his sugary smile had renewed completely and his eyes sparkled with affection.

“Me too.”

tags: @artof-aristocracy @ghostlylovesstuff

#dbz x reader #goku x you #son goku #goku x reader #goku smut #fuzzfeet #fuzzfeet figure #dragon ball #dragon ball z #all the right buttons

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iznsfw · 1 year

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The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?"

You're nervous, fidgeting in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?"

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly.

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral.

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?"

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit."

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all.

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?"

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through."

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge.

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere.

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk), but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store.

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks.

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public.

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer."

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining.

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask.

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?"

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means.

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs.

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one.

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience.

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself.

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her.

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open.

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?"

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly.

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you?

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!"

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer.

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other.

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes.

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?"

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to.

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay."

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must), you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm.

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow.

"This… this is your house?"

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping. "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding.

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels.

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired.

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

“It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it.

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table.

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor.

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said.

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too.

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?"

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?"

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly.

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?"

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight.

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical.

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.”

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more?

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry. It’s just not who she is.

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs.

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out.

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside.

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy.

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous?

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that.

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

#kpop smut #izone smut #ive smut #an yujin smut #ahn yujin smut #izone yujin smut #ive yujin smut #yujin smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #pov smut

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florencemtrash · 8 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Six

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of violence and injuries

“Why didn’t you call me? Esto nunca debería haber sucedido.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Keep your eyes open ok?”

“Mantén los ojos abiertos. Stay awake, Y/n. Mantente despierto por mí.”

“Is she going to be ok?”

“What’s going on? What happened?!”

You forced your eyes open, blinking the sleep and time from them as your mind slowly worked to clear out the fog. Voices had murmured to you throughout your sleep, whispering words that sounded kind and gentle, but you couldn’t hold onto the specifics of what they said.

Pain shot through uncooperative arms when you tried to sit up in bed, grimacing at the gross taste in your mouth. How long had you been asleep for? The soreness in your back told you it had been a long time.

“Hey, kiddo. Might not want to try that.” Peter said as you struggled. His hand was strong against your back as you shifted restlessly. The sheets smelled of laundry detergent and lemons. Overhead the lights of the Spidey med bay hummed softly.

“Peter?” You muttered groggily. Your vocal cords were tight and gruff like a car engine that had been left idle for too long.

“The one and only!”

You finished clearing out your eyes and your voice. It was good to see a familiar face.

“How long have I been out? I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit too.” He said with a forced grin like he hadn’t just lost one of his best friends, “Do you remember what happened?”

You accepted the water he handed you, downing it in five seconds with a groan. Your hands and arms were wrapped like a mummy’s and you could feel the soft gauze rub against the sensitive skin beneath whenever you moved.

“Yeah… Yeah I think I do.” The IV drip, drip, dripped saline steadily into your arm, “How long have I been out, Peter? You never answered.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still wearing his pink bathrobe and matching slippers when Mayday was nowhere to be found. At this point fatherhood had become a new superhero role for him, so it made sense he should dress accordingly at work.

“Ten days?”

“Ten days?!” You sat up with a grimace, “Joder.”

Did someone call me out of work? God, I’m hungry. Isn’t Miles’s reference letter due soon? I need a shower. Fuck.

Peter held you down gently when you tried to roll out of bed. If Miguel discovered you’d gotten up on his watch, he’d never hear the end-

“You’re awake.”

Miguel’s frame filled the doorway, a small tray of food held within white-knuckled hands.

You were here. You were safe. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Shit. Peter B. spun around on his heels, letting you go and spreading his arms open wide like he’d just unveiled a marble statue at a ceremony.

“Surprise!” He sang, your irritated face appearing in Miguel’s vision from around Peter’s back.

You may have been the one to nearly die, but Miguel looked like he’d been put through the ringer. His red eyes were bloodshot and bruised, curls tousled, and shoulders slumped over like a deflated balloon.

“She’s awake! A real fighter, this one.”

Miguel stalked forward, sinking into the seat next to your bed that Peter had abandoned and sliding the tray of food in front of you. Everything about him spoke of exhaustion, but he hid it well as he pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling for a fever. His palm was warm, chasing away some of the pulsing pain in your head.

“How are you feeling?”

Peter B. pouted from behind Miguel. Hey, I’m here too! His expression said, drawing a small smile from you.

“Pretty terrible, I won’t lie. But at least I’m not dead.”

Miguel winced and fell silent. You regretted saying anything.

Peter fluttered around the room like a honey bee, chatting your ear off and taking the edge off of the tension that radiated from Miguel as he dutifully checked over your wounds. He barely said anything, only asking you to open your mouth so he could take your temperature or lift your arm so he could wrap the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

Everyone had been worried about you, taking turns to sit at your bedside and wait for you to awaken (although the rotation was also made so that Miguel would be forced to take time to rest… He didn’t).

Even some of the Spiders you weren’t familiar with left behind cards and small stuffed bears - a consistent get well gift across universes, although Spider Cat did bring you a packet of catnip. They formed a small mountain of trinkets on the coffee table.

“We’ll leave you alone to rest.” Miguel said bluntly, stopping Peter’s rant in his tracks after seeing your eyes begin to glaze over and flutter shut.

“Oooof, sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. Hey! If you need anything, just call. I’m sure Miles will stop by later, but I told him you’d be upset if he skipped school. Oh! And I’ll bring Mayday with me next time I visit. She always makes people feel better. Doesn’t she, Miguel?”

Miguel’s neutral expression didn’t budge when Peter nudged him with an elbow. He only continued to herd Peter closer and closer out the door.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later!” Peter said, finally disappearing around the corner. Miguel huffed. Took him long enough.

“Wait!” You called out before Miguel could escape back to his office to brood. “Could-could you stay?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them and you cringed. You didn’t like to ask him for things but… considering the circumstances…

He walked back to you, rigidly sinking back into his seat and pushing the tray closer to you.

“You should eat. Build up your strength.” He said, clasping his hands tightly against his stomach as you hesitated and then began to eat ravenously.

He’d been in your position before - exhausted and confused and reeling from a near-death experience. A pit of shame formed in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to protect you from it. He’d been on edge ever since you’d joined Spider Society and he thought - he’d hoped - that by keeping you from the more dangerous corners of the multiverse, you’d never experience what you’d just gone through. First the incident with the Spot and now this...

“How bad was it?” You asked tentatively, poking at the leftover fries on your plate. You obeyed the comfortable stretch of your stomach, cautious of getting sick after not eating solid food for over a week. “How bad was I?”

“Pretty bad.” Miguel said gruffly and honestly, staring at a blank spot on the wall, “We didn’t think you’d make it for a while.”

You nodded. You remembered bits and pieces of the moment between sending the anomaly back to his dimension and passing out. The electricity flowing through your body had made your skin feel like it was being peeled off the bone, every nerve screaming out in pain until your brain had short circuited and shut itself off. You were lucky that the burns on your arms were all that remained.

“But I did.” You said, gently reminding him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t think… he couldn’t.

“Migs-”

The nickname threw him off guard. No one had called him that since his wife died.

He stood up so quickly the chair squeaked in protest.

“Get some rest, Y/n.” He said without looking at you, “Call if you need anything.” He tapped the touchscreen device he left on the table - his universe’s version of a cell phone - before striding out the door without another word.

You clenched your jaw and sank back into the pillows, part of you wishing you’d stayed asleep for a little while longer.

It took time for your body to feel like your own again. Most days you shouted at deaf limbs to move smoothly and carry things properly. Miguel had already written to Brooklyn Visions Academy about your medical leave of absence and had even gone so far as to visit your apartment to clean your kitchen and fridge while you remained bedridden at Spidey HQ. But for all the big and small ways he showed you that he cared, he neglected to do one thing - actually talk to you.

You shoved the sketchbook off the table, colored pens and pencils scattering on the floor as you dropped your head into your arms and silently screamed. Nearly a month after your injury and you still couldn’t quite hold things properly.

Your fine motor skills should return over time. Was what Dr. Parker had told you and the words should and time had been rattling around in your brain ever since.

Should or will? And how much time would it take?

“Fingers still not quite working right?” Hobie asked, leaning so far back in his seat with his legs propped up that he was nearly parallel with the floor. He held a tattered book in his hands, shifting colors with every page flip like the world’s worst chameleon.

“No.” You said, smoothing back your hair. You’d lost the bandages, but your skin was still tender to the touch in places and numb in others. Lichtenberg figure scars trailed up from your hands all the way to your collarbone, growing there like lichen on a tree. “It’s gotten better. A lot better. But it’s still not the same.”

“You’ll get there eventually.” Hobie said. He knelt on the floor and started to clean up the mess you had made, “Then you’ll be good as new.”

“How do you know?” You sighed, joining him.

He shrugged, “I don’t. But I was right before about you being able to send someone back to their own dimension without a watch. I’ve got a good feeling I’ll be right about this too.”

He offered you a small smile and a helping hand, both of which you accepted.

You spent the rest of the day together, joined by Peter, Gwen, and Miles who cheered you through your daily exercises. You were getting strong again, albeit slowly.

“I want to see you kiss the ground!”

“Show that stress ball who’s BOSS!”

“Yeah, THROW THAT DONGLE!”

“What did you just call-”

Miguel hovered by the door, never stepping foot into the training room with you in it. Never speaking to you, although he desperately wanted to. When you caught his eye, blinking in surprise as you kneeled in the training ring sweaty and tired, he bolted.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself as he strode to the office you’d affectionately coined his “vampire lair.” Although he’d kept his distance, he’d never left you alone. When you asked Peter about getting things from your apartment, he was the one who visited your dimension. When you initially had trouble walking after your injury, he was the one who tracked down the best physicians and physical therapist variants he could find. He was breaking protocol left and right to make sure you were ok and he knew it. But...

“Lyla, could you pull up the video?” She didn’t need to ask for clarification on which video. It was always the same one. Always the same happy memory, followed by a terrible and harsh reality.

Gabriella’s smiling face flashed on the screen, her bubbly laughter rising high above Miguel’s own baritone chuckle as she threw her arms around his shoulders and slapped that silly blue bow on his head. He’d taken that video to send to you after she scored the winning goal. You never made it to the game.

It was a painful reminder of everything that was at stake. He’d taken too many liberties, allowed himself to get too close to you. If he lost you like he’d lost Gabriella. He-

“Is that her?”

Miguel’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

“Is that Gabriella?” You asked, swallowing thickly as Miguel turned around, leaving the video paused on two smiling faces. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Yes.” He answered softly, guilt heavy on his voice as you moved closer and inspected the girl on screen.

Your breath caught in your throat, coming out as a strangled gasp.

She looked like Miguel… She looked like you…

“She’s got your smile.” You said softly, brushing away the unexpected dampness that had collected in your eyes.

You’d been frustrated all day. Frustrated at yourself for your slow healing and your uncooperative body. When you had come to Miguel’s lair it was with the purpose of yelling at him for not visiting, and part of you still wanted to do that. But seeing him vulnerable and tired in front of his daughter your daughter Gabriella had taken some of the fight out of you.

“I always thought she had yours. Well, the other-”

“I understand, Miguel.”

Silence stretched between you, tense and thin and waiting to be sliced through. You made the move.

“Why haven’t you visited me?” The words came out sharper, more accusatory than you’d expected them to.

Although Miguel flinched on the inside, he forced himself to take that pain and longing and shove it back into the little box he’d crafted for those feelings in the corner of his heart. The little box that you’d been steadily hacking away at from the very moment he met you.

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”

“Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not appropriate for you to visit a friend?”

His jaw clenched at the word friend. It was a flimsy word, too weak to hold up all the feelings you held for each other. He ignored your question and barrelled through his next words, words that he’d been contemplating over the last month you’d been stuck in the med bay.

“Peter J. says you’re well enough to go back home and back to work if you feel ready. He wants you here every Wednesday at 7pm for the next six weeks-”

“You’re not answering my question-”

“I’ve got a write up for you to bring to any physician in your dimension-”

“Miguel, stop ignoring-”

“If you need documentation. In the meantime-”

“Y ni siquiera me estás escuchando-”

“I’m taking you off the team.”

You took a step back, the realization of what he’d just said hitting you like a slap. “What did you say?”

Miguel gritted his teeth, eyes sliding down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to see that quiet look of devastation on your face. You were having none of it, immediately getting close to him and pressing your hands against his chest. The pads of your fingers were delicate but forceful as they tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Miguel, look at me.” Quiet. Desperate.

“I’m taking you off the team.” He repeated, clenching his jaw so tightly he could feel the grinding of his teeth.

“What-why would-why?”

“You almost died, Y/n. That stunt of yours could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Stunt? Is that really what you’re calling it?”

“You’re not cut out for this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was bullshit and he did know it.

“We couldn’t call you.” You prodded him with a finger, “We couldn’t trap him using the usual methods. We could barely hold him off long enough for anyone to come help. If I hadn’t done what I did, who the hell knows what would have happened? To Miles. To Gwen. To the millions of people living in New York. You need me Miguel, and not just for the superhero crap.”

What hadn’t occurred to you was that he knew exactly how much he needed you… and that was what terrified him so much.

“The decision’s been made, Y/n.”

“By you. So change it.”

“I’m not changing my decision.” Miguel growled, grabbing the hand that you’d been jabbing him with.

So this was the Miguel that everyone had told you about. Not the soft, brooding, sarcastic man you’d come to know. Not the Spider-Man whose humor revolved around making quippy comments. Not the Spider-Man who claimed to be the roughest and straight-laced of them all while still letting the cooks put his face on their signature burger. Not the smiling, laughing Miguel from the video with a blue bow in his hair.

No. This Miguel was short-tempered and hammered from steel.

So why did he still hold your hand so gently, clutching it to his chest like he wanted to keep you there?

He shrugged you off, finally closing the screen on the video of him and Gabriella. Something about that made your blood boil.

“So what now?” You seethed, refusing to let this go. Not even as his fingers started to fly over the keyboard and his mind struggled to go elsewhere.

“You can go home. You can go back to the med bay.”

You can stay here with me. You can help me get through all of this.

Miguel’s heart screamed at him. His brain screamed back so loudly he felt his hold on his emotions stretch to its breaking point.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Your voices had been steadily rising throughout the argument. So when his broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his temples, you thought you’d finally gotten to him.

“¡Dime la verdad, Miguel! Why are you taking me off the team?”

“I told you the truth earlier. You’re not cut out for this.”

“BULLSHIT!”

He slammed his hand down on the keyboard, cracking it in two and sending keys clattering to the floor.

“I’M NOT LOSING YOU!” He roared, eyes alight and burning like the sun itself. “Not again!” His eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t stand the sight of you, chest rising and falling with desperate gulps of air.

You stood there, lightly swaying on your feet like a boat caught in an unexpected storm.

“I am not your fucking wife.” Your voice cracked, “You didn’t lose me before and unless you tell me to walk out that door right now, you will never lose me. Ok? I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.”

You expected something, anything, from Miguel. But after a minute of silence passed with him standing like a statue in front of you, you swallowed your tears before they could fall and blinked away.

It wasn’t your intention to go home. You’d planned to go back to the med bay, curl up, and sleep away your troubles before stealing a watch in the morning. But like a broken dam can’t hold back water, your emotions and powers couldn’t be contained.

When you looked around at your cleaned apartment, the faintest smell of Miguel’s cologne still stuck to the couch pillows, you sank to your knees and started to cry.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note:

Autumn is here! And the colder, somber atmosphere in the coffee shop today helped inspire this chapter. I had a plan for this fic... I abandoned it long ago. But, that being said, I hope to have things wrapped up in the next 2-3 chapters and to bring some closure to the first multi-chapter fic I will have ever truly completed.

As always, I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and that your Autumn drinks are tasting ✨delicious✨

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape. @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel x spidersona #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider verse #atsv #hobie brown #peter b parker #angst

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

Note

Snice Conner/ Kon-el is half Kryptoniton, would some of your Hcs still count?

Like Conner would be affected by sent too?

If that's so, can we get a Conner x Reader (He/Him) ?

I think it would be great if Conner had a crush on the reader, he might try to steal some of reader's sweaters/ hoodies without thinking. So to poke back the reader steals one of Conner's favorite shirts, the reader having a mischievous smile when he sees how flustered Conner is, to have the Reader smelling like him.

You can keep this fluff, or make it a little NSFT, I'll let you decide!

Conner Kent x male reader

Headcanons

(Ive run out of young justice conner gifs, so have this titans one instead)

Always hype to write about my kryptonian headcanons

- Conner wouldn’t realize what he was doing in the beginning, stealing your stuff like he did. It would just be a deep urge of his, to smell like you or have your scent close to him.

- So little by little as you two hang out, he would just bring some of your hoodies or sweaters back to his room, resorting to even wearing them every now and then.

- You would most likely realize before Conner himself, seeing as he isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is when he borrows some of your stuff, especially when he doesn’t give it pack and it just ends up on a big pile on his bed.

- So, when you start stealing shirts and hoodies back, that primal part of Conners brain immediately is awake, hyper focused on you. He especially gets antsy when you walk around wearing his clothes, smelling like him.

- He starts chuffing and purring at a frequency only other kryptonians can hear, that feral part of his mind so pleased that you are wearing his scent and smelling like him. It makes him want to pull you into his arms and never let go.

- You two keep up this game for a while, swapping clothes back and forth without ever actually saying anything. And it only makes that part of Conners brain go a little extra wild. Especially when he one day catches you going around in one of his t-shirts and just a pair of boxers.

- At some point he realizes you gotta be doing this on purpose, as you smirk and snicker at his flustered reactions. It makes him growl at the frequency normal people cant hear, feeling something in his chest about being teased that way.

- It makes him want to mark his territory, but he feels embarrassed about wanting to smother you even more in his scent and even mark you as his. So, you’ll most likely have to take the step in that direction.

- But when you get the ball rolling there’s no end to it, expect so many hugs and so much scenting, expect him to suck hickeys all over your body and lick you all over, especially in areas that gather a lot of your smell.

- You’ll also have to learn to live with just how excited smelling your scent or musk can be for him, though it probably comes as a surprise to the both of you the first time he has an orgasm just huffing your armpit.

- After that time you both start experimenting a bit more, seeing if its just your scent or something else. This resorts to Conner wearing even more of your clothes, and at this point your wardrobes have just been completely mixed.

- No one is surprised to see you two wear the others clothes, and no one is surprised to see Conner rubbing his face all over your neck, or to see hickeys and bitemarks all over your torso in the locker room.

- Be prepared for the kryptonian libido, there is no mercy when you really get Conner going. You will be seeing God and wrung dry like an empty Juicebox, and he still wont be satiated.

- That’s when its good to have some of your workout clothes or shirts you’ve worn all day laying around, as it helps Conner get off on his own as you catch a break so you can feel your legs again. It isn’t half bad watching him ride his toys with your shirt against this nose either, it really does something to your ego.

- Afterwards you always cuddle, and Conner purrs even louder even though you cant hear it. He’s told you about it at some point, so you can feel its there in spirit. He’s like a space heater when you cuddle, so you never have to worry about being cold. It’s a nightmare during the summer though.

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sukiipjs · 2 months

Text

✮ BLONDIE : PT 2

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 1961

↳ summary - you’ve been having a hard time realizing and accepting the fact that you’re gay, and in love with your best friend. you try to ignore the feelings but that only makes everything worse until you can’t hide it anymore.

↳ contains - swearing, use of y/n, angst, crying, verbal fighting, idrk 😭 [READ PT 1 - PT 3]

↳ song - blondie by current joys

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

days after and nick hasn’t texted me since. no more random tiktok’s, no more check ins, just complete nothingness now. i don’t blame him of course, i’d do the same if he was being as shitty as me right now. but honestly i miss those texts so so much, even if i rarely responded to him, or more so i miss the texts we had before all this stupid shit started.

but again, i truly don’t even know when it all started, it was so easy to just brush this off these feelings and whatever as a friend thing before and not think of it too much. why can’t it just be a friend thing now?

actually i think ive just accepted it all at this point though. i love him and no it’s not just a friend thing, it’s way more and it always has been way more. sure i might wish it wasn’t, but it is and i know it is and i cant just ignore it.

i’m not even trying to get rid of it anymore, i don’t have the strength for hiding it. honestly i think if i kept trying to get rid of it, it wouldn’t even work. obviously i still won’t tell him, or anyone, unless he pries it out of me. i know he doesn’t feel the same and i doubt he even looks at me as a friend anymore.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i continue repeating my own sad cycle of doing nothing but staying in bed, hiding myself from the world… without nick. i still check up on his socials, being the weird stalker that i am and looking at all the story’s and snapchats he posted of himself, he looks just fine without me, of course.

i lay in bed, staring at my phone to avoid looking at the mess around my room. i scroll and scroll, starting to see a weird amount of videos of people taking care of themselves or videos of people ‘spring cleaning’.

i scroll away, i really don’t need to see people functioning completely fine right now, it’s like their taunting me, laughing at me. but the videos just keep coming back, haunting me, laughing at me. all i see through my scrolling cycle is random ass dog videos, cleaning and organizing videos, or nick edits… and that’s exactly what i need.

i let out a loud sigh, slightly rolling my eyes then rolling over to my other side, having my blanket wrap around me. i choose to just swipe off the app and throw my phone to the side of me before closing my eyes and just trying to get some sleep. that way those videos, my stupid feelings, and not even nick can haunt my mind anymore.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

my eyes flicker open, the sun shining directly in my face and i finally decide to actually do something good for myself and go out for a walk when the sun and clear weather is still out, it’s been raining almost the whole time i’ve seen dying in my room alone.

i slowly move myself up to sit, leaning my back on the wooden headboard behind me and sitting on some pillows below that cushion me. i stretch out my arms in front of me, yawning and running my fingers through my hair to fix the shaggy mess.

i move myself off my bed, stand up then fixing my off center shirt and trying to flatten out a few wrinkles. i throw the blanket that covered me to the side and decide to just throw the shirt and pants that i wear off me -actually putting them somewhere other than on the floor too- i pick out a clean outfit, already feeling way less gross, it’s the small things that count right.

i walk out my room, not forgetting to grab my phone to come with me before going into my bathroom, splashing my face with water to get me more awake. i run my hands in my hair again, fixing it up with my mirror in front of me so i can actually see what i’m doing before grabbing some actual water giving myself something to drink other than dr pepper.

finally i walk out to go by my door, grabbing a light jacket and pulling it over my arms then putting on my shoes and heading out the door. i start off to go a longer way, turning the corner of the sidewalk. i feel all the small breezes on my skin as i get actual sun and nature.

i continue walking random ways, i just want to be out of the mess that i’ve been living in for so long right now. it actually feels nice to be outside, not sitting in a gross hole of dirty clothes and dishes.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i walk, making my way around the neighborhood, my eye catching all the small colorful flowers blooming up and all the small brown squirrels scurrying to run up trees as i pass them. i remember all the times me and nick went out, running around the streets when we were younger. not thinking of anything, just being kids living a simple life. i wish it was still that simple.

as i walk, still obviously thinking of nick, i notice the sky above graying and clouds starting to cover up the sun, shit. i start to walk a little faster, hopefully being able to get home before it pours but as soon as i speed up, small water drops start to fall on me.

i grab the end of my jacket to pull it over my head, holding it over me to shield out the rain. the sides of my jacket block my view as i focus on the path i walk to my place.

i look down at my feet walking, trying not to get too wet as the rain pours more and more, bouncing off the sidewalk. suddenly i feel two hands place on me, pushing me back, “the fuck.” i mutter as i look up, gaining my balance on my feet again. “oh” my face softens as i see nick standing in front of me, his blonde hair damp and drops of water falling from his cheek. he stares at me, i can tell he’s mad and obviously i can tell it’s my doing.

“nick-“ he cuts me off quickly, slightly pushing against my shoulders again as i put my jacket down, wearing it normally, my head now getting pelted with rain. “no, i talk. what the fuck y/n. honestly what has been going gone, you’ve completely ignored me for weeks, you keep blowing me off and i don’t fucking know what i did and the only way i can talk to you about this is randomly bumping into you since you won’t even answer my texts?”

“nick-“ i sigh as i try speaking again but he pushes me back once more. his glassy eyes narrow and i see water pooling in them, i can’t tell if it’s rain or tears. “no! you’re my- you’re supposed to be my best friend and this shit isn’t cutting it y/n! just what is it! what is it. what did i do please just talk to me. if you hate me or something just tell me!” he shouts, his fists starting to clench as i wipe the wet hair in my face away.

“nick stop. you- you didn’t do anything i promise, i’m sorry okay” my voice croaks, i can feel the water pooling in my own eyes now. “then what is it! you can’t just block me out, out of no where.” i shake my head, trying to figure out how to say an actual explanation without saying too much. “nick i’m sorry!”

“stop apologizing! i’m not asking for that, i’m asking for an answer, please. i feel like shit and you haven’t even been there, i kept trying to talk and hang out with you but apparently you hate me now and never want to see me again, i get it!” he scoffs, staring me down as his eyes shut, tears dropping as he takes a breath before opening his eyes back up, wiping off the mixture of tears and rain.

“like i said, if you hate me or suddenly don’t want to be my friend, tell me. i truly, truly, don’t understand this shit your pulling and if you won’t talk now then when will we? you’ll just ignore me again so just spit it out now!” nick keeps rambling on and i just stare at him, seeing how hurt i’ve actually made him. i don’t know what to say, i really don’t.

i just want to shut him up, have him realize that it’s my fault and i don’t hate him. i cut him off as he continues to yell at me, “nick!” my voice feels weak as he shouts back, “what!” i stare at him for a moment, seeing those blue eyes i miss, those star earrings, his grown out roots and before i know it my hands go up to his face, pulling him in as our lips press together.

my hands hold him as strands of his hair poke my fingers, our noses slightly brushing against each others. i quickly step back, eyes wide as i realize what i just did, taking my hands back. “i-im sorry“ my breath is short before i turn around, running away from him to get back to the shit hole of comfort i’m living in to avoid what i just confessed.

i swear i hear him try to call my name but i ignore it, i can’t see him. what did i just do. i can’t even process any of this.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

i finally reach my place again and i swiftly open my door and walk inside, standing as raindrops slide off of me, creating a small puddle on the floor below. i shake off my hair a little, flicking the water droplets off of me. i take off my jacket, putting it on a hook to let it dry as i take off my shoes too, leaving them by the door.

i wipe my face off with the palms of my hands, wiping off many of my tears that still fall. i walk over to my fridge, getting out another dr pepper then walking over to my couch, slumping down into it as i set my can down and wrap a blanket around myself to warm me up again.

i slowly slide to the side, laying myself down on the cushions. why the actual fuck would i kiss him? what that really the best thing i could do? he already hated me, i did not have to make it worse. i ponder in my head, genuinely trying to find a valid reason of why i just kissed my best friend that hates me. oh. my. god. i’ve ruined my life -not like it was already ruined- i’m never coming back from this.

i stare at the unopened dr pepper sitting on my coffee table, i try making myself reach for it but my arms don’t want to leave the warmth of the blanket i’m huddled in. i hear my phone buzz next to the dr pepper on, i also cannot seem to have my arm reach out to see who’s calling, i hope it’s not who i think but why would he even call me?

rain pelts out on my window, water sliding down the cold glass of it as i lay holding my blanket close to me, pulling the blanket over my eyes as they close, resting as i try forget about my phone continuously buzzing and the drink still on my table.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @will-yummy @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆#sukiipjs #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆

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keirawantstocry · 4 months

Note

hi hi its 💋anon yet again. Many soft kisses again, i legit started giggling so- twas amazing ty ty.

So Ive been having thoughts about how the general consesnsus is that Pac would silently move Tubbo to partner status. So like, Pac would be ecstatic, right? New partner Hell Yeah. I think Fit would catch on pretty quick and just double down. and i believe that Tubbo, while Not Really understanding whats Going on, would not say Anything. Why would he? then they might stop and while its confusing the affection is Nice alright?

Hope youre having a good day :>

oh 💋 anon, how i adore you. i hope YOU'RE having a good day :>

HIS ASS DOES NOT KNOW ITS A DATE

“You're coming right?” Pac called to Tubbo who was currently slipping steel tipped boots on.

“Yeah, I'm coming!” he called. Fit and Pac had invitéd him to dinner, it was kind of strange. But, he thought, surely they just wanted to talk and just happened to also be hungry. And they told him to wear a suit just because.

They both looked him over when he finally stepped out, Fit with a low whistle and Pac with increasingly growing eyes.

“You look sooooo good,” he said breathlessly and Tubbo flushed looking nervously over at Fit.

“Haha uh thanks, man.”

“So good,” Fit repeated and Tubbo burned under the heat of his gaze raking over his body.

He just chucked to himself. They were surely pulling his leg. It's some kind of joke that they were checking him out like they truly wanted him, like he actually made their hearts race.

Tubbo looked away. “Let's just go, yeah?”

The restaurant was fancy, it made sense now why they had dressed up. Pac ordered wine for all of them and it came in tall thin glasses. As it was handed to him, Tubbo’s eyes went wide. He laughed softly. “It looks so fragile. I’m afraid I’m going to break it.”

They both laughed. “Don’t worry,” Fit said. “If my metal hand can handle it without breaking it, I’m sure you can handle it as well.”

Tubbo looked down at the menu and whistled. “This shit is expensive, I can't pay for this you guys.”

They shushed him immediately. “We're paying,” Fit insisted.

“It's our treat,” Pac elaborated.

Tubbo squirmed in his seat. “You guys don't have to do that.”

“We insist,” Pac said. “You deserve it.”

Tubbo squirmed under his gaze, remembering when Pac had said that same statement while kissing him silly. He still wasn't quite sure what was going on. How Pac claimed that Fit didn't care that they kissed. He didn't dare bring it up with Fit for fear of getting punched.

He cleared his throat. “Okay then, let's eat yeah?”

Dinner was delicious, he had to admit that. The wine was fruity and sweet, the meat was juicy and tender, and the talk was captivating. They talked for hours, long after their plates were clear and cleaned. Long after their drinks had been refilled again and again. As they got tipsy, then drunk and giggly.

They went back to Fit's. Collapsed on his bed together. Pac cuddled as close to Tubbo as he could, fingers wandering all over his torso, legs locked around his.

A real flush joined the wine drunk red on his face. “Feeling me up in front of your boyfriend? Wowwww.”

Pac giggled, letting his hands wander even more. “He doesn't mind. Do you Fit?”

Fit, who was currently standing, taking off the tie he was wearing, with a smile said, “No, I don't mind. With muscles like that I totally understand.”

Tubbo giggled, drunkenly. “What the fuck,” he muttered. “Just. Let's sleep. I'm too tired to understand what is going on with you two.”

Fit laid down beside them wrapping his arms around the both of them, and pulling a blanket up over them. “Yeah, let's sleep. Then we can all bitch about our hangovers in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo and Pac muttered in unison before Tubbo felt himself being pulled down into the depths of sleep.

#qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #poly morning crew #fitpacbo #q!tubbo #q!fit #q!pac #his ass doesnt know its a date 😔#ignore any random little marks you see above letters #my keyboard switches to french sometimes

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agendabymooner · 1 year

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early.

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week.

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers.

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that.

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them.

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works.

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room.

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot.

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.”

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?”

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet.

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located.

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel.

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates.

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does.

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth.

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression.

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?”

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?”

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?”

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.”

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously.

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow.

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready.

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.”

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.”

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much.

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?”

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context.

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.”

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.”

“Is he?”

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone.

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes.

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again.

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.”

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.”

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?”

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it.

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up.

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today.

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?”

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.”

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him.

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?”

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him.

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.”

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity.

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice.

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room.

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.”

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise.

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.”

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?”

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips.

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.”

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #formula one smau #f1 fic #f1 imagine #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #mercedes amg imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fluff

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tokyoyumeeee · 2 years

Text

girlfriend exe!

featuring: ganyu, ayaka, lisa, ei, yae miko

tags: fluff, Valentine’s Day headcanons, unedited(im writing this at 1am lol)

GANYU

-ganyu would prefer if you two could spend Valentine’s Day away from liyue harbor, but if you prefer staying at the harbor she’ll oblige anything 4 u <3

-ganyu finds the time to make you chocolate from scratch(handmade chocolate) sjjidjdnwjsu

-she’ll write you a whole 10 page essay about how grateful she is to be your gf and how much she loves you and pass it off as a “small letter of appreciation”

-if you’re big about valentines day she’ll make the big sacrifice of calling a day off to spend the entire day with you(she just wants you to be happy :( )

-if not, she’ll meet you somewhere for lunch, continue on her day and spend a bit more time with you at night<333

-she’s actually pretty adamant on spending time w/ you during valentines day cause she normally doesn’t have much time for you and she wants to show that she still loves you

AYAKA

-Ayaka would love to spend Valentine’s Day with you alone somewhere private because she wants it to be intimate and just between the two of you yk?

-if you don’t want to spend it somewhere private and would prefer to spend it out in public, like inazuma city, she’s not opposed

-she’s actually a big valentines person, but understands if you’re not

-will write you a letter to express her love for you

-she’d normally be too shy to deliver the letter to you in person but she made an exception for Valentine’s Day

-if you want to spend valentines day with her in private, you might just spend the entire day in bed cuddling

-if you wanna spend it in public you’d go shopping, have dinner somewhere nice, then cuddle once you return home at night

LISA

-oh boy, lisa during Valentine’s Day? ill just list some of the sfw stuff ive thought for her 😟

-will make the tiring trip outside the library to the souvenir shop to buy you something

-writes you a poem and a letter

-orders a sumeru rose for you so you’ll have something to remember her with

-no doubt you’ll invite her on a date all around mondstadt

-pls buy her something, she might pass it off like she doesn’t care but it means a lot to her if you show her that you care enough to get her a gift :(

-if you wanna be lazy you can just stay in bed all day with her and cuddle

-she’s not opposed to either ideas

-this is complicated

-if you wanna spend valentines day with the shogun, it’s difficult to convince her

-she thinks that celebrating holidays is a trivial thing and a waste of time but if ei forces her she’ll just spend some one on one time with you

-spending valentines with ei is a whole different story

-she’ll leave the plane of euthimiya and go on a date with you around Inazuma city, but you guys can go further than that

-if you want you can take a stroll through chinju forest, or hike up to the highest point in serari island

-she knows you’ll get tired before her so once you start wearing out she’ll piggyback you back to tenshukaku

-if you’re not big abt valentines day or just wanna spend it in private you guys can just goof off in tenshukaku or have heartfelt convos, your choice

YAE MIKO

-yae miko will just suddenly reveal that she had been writing a novel about you getting married to her and planned to publish it on valentines day 💀

-her teasing and flirting just amplified

-you’ll find her all over you

-knows that you want to spend valentines with her whether you like the holiday or not, but does everything to get you to admit it

-she’ll spoil you no shit but every time you ask her for something you have to do something for her in return

-she’ll ask for things like “give me a kiss”, “hug me”, even “let me pet gorou’s tail” god knows what’s going on in her brain 💀

-she can be sincere though and will express it to you by giving you a sincere “I love you” and a kiss before you fall asleep

genshin boy ver.

#yae miko #yae miko x reader #ei x y/n #genshin girls #genshin x you #ayaka x you #ayaka x reader #lisa x you #raiden x reader #ganyu my beloved #ganyu fluff #genshin fluff #tokyoyume

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127tyong · 1 year

Text

I.O.U

(Be There For You Follow Up)

A/N: Same universe as BTFY, different characters, same medicine. You don't need to read BTFY to understand this story tho they're kinda their own thing

Pairing: Qian Kun X Reader

Genre: Be There For You AU, Smut, Doctor Kun, Good Ending, (as always, i know nothing about medicine lol)

Warnings: Mind Break, kun is kinda mean

Word Count: 2.3k

“I mean, every college kid does a clinical trial to make a quick buck at least once, right? That’s just like, part of the freshman experience!” You were on the phone with your friend as you stood outside the clinic, ready to get tied up to an IV for 10 hours or have your sleep monitored.

“Whatever. Don’t let them do anything stupid to you, alright?” Your friend replied, dryly.

“They’re doctors! They wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, right? Anyways, I’m gonna go in!” Way too optimistic, considering you were willing to go through Hell for $1000.

You walked in and went to the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” The worker, wearing a name tag that said “Jeno” asked you. He seemed… like your average nerd. Chunky, black rimmed glasses in a rectangle shape.

“I’m actually wondering if you have any studies that I could participate in.” You smiled up at him, biting your lip, as to avoid asking him if his bright pink hair was up to code.

“Hm…” He grabbed a paper. “How about you fill this out to let us get a better grasp of who you are, then I’ll have a doctor chat with you, alright?” He quickly smiled up at you, but his eyes were cold, probably wishing you’d leave him alone already.

You nodded. “Thanks!”

After about 30 minutes and 100 questions later, you were called into an exam room, and you sat on the bed in there.

A young man with wire rimmed glasses and light blue hair entered and applied hand sanitizer. “So, my name is Kun Qian. So I’ve checked your questionnaire and your medical history, and I’ve compiled a list of things you are able to participate in.”

He handed you a stack of papers, and on top, there it was.

Project E 2.0

This medication is being tested to treat PCOS and other hormone irregularities.

Side effects include a heightened libido, sensitivity during sex, as well as more intense and stronger orgasms.

You glanced up at Kun, who was clicking his pen. “I’ll just do this one, it seems simple enough.”

Kun sighed, rolling his neck back to crack his neck. “The E one? It’s important for you to know that the side effects of this medication are… strong, to say the least.”

“What, am I going to go feral? It’s fine, just give me the jab.” You laughed, but Kun didn’t respond.

“Yes. The woman who received the 1.0 version was unable to sleep, eat… she couldn’t live a normal life for several weeks because of it. All she was able to do was have sex and be force-fed by her doctor… Well, boyfriend now, I guess.” He pulled off his glasses and looked you in the eye. “I promise, I will be right here, ready to assist you, or anything you may need, but I need to know that you can deal with the pain.”

“Well, when you put it like that… I guess I should learn a bit more first.”

“Do you have a husband or wife? Any significant other that might be able to help?” Kun started to write stuff down on his clipboard.

“Er, I have a roommate?” You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, unsure of what Kun meant.

Kun exhaled loudly, leaning back in his chair, his annoyance with you obvious. “I meant someone you could have sex with, madam.”

“I have a vibrator?” You laughed, the hairs on your arms standing due to your nerves.

Kun bit his lip. “I think it’s in your best interest to choose another option.”

“Um, but I think this would be the easiest for me… All I have to do is track possible side effects, right? And I can go home?” You flipped through the other studies, ranging from a hypothermia study to a sociology study.

“Well, you’d have to stay here for a week, only so we can see how you’d react… but yes, you can.” Kun clicked his pen against the clipboard. “I’ll give it to you. Let me lead you to your room.

It actually wasn’t that bad, considering this was an independent clinic. You had your own bedroom and bathroom, and your roommate sent you clothes for your week stay.

Kun sat on the chair next to your bed, letting you settle in before giving you the shot.

“I’m ready.” You sat on the bed, shuffling over to where Kun was sitting.

“There.” Kun injected it. “I’ll stay with you for the first hour, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Do you wanna get in bed with me?” You scooched over, letting him in.

“Um…” Kun stood up, sitting down next to you, taking his shoes off before moving to sit next to you.

“So, Doctor, how’s your day going?” You turned on the TV in front of you, switching the channel to some cheesy reality Lifetime show.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen today, so I guess… Good.” Kun inspected your body, from the palms of your hands down to your chest, then your thighs and feet. “So… what made you want to do this?”

“Money?” You glanced at him, noticing how plump his lips were after he bit his bottom lip. “Why does anyone let themselves do something like this?”

“Well, you’re not wrong, I guess.” The palm of his hand pressed against your forehead, trying to feel for your temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“It’s only been like… 5 minutes, so I guess I feel the same.” You looked up at Kun, who was now standing up and sliding his shoes back on.

A minute turned to two minutes, two turned to twenty, twenty turned to sixty…

“I want to check something.” Kun grabbed his stethoscope, putting it in his ears and against your heart. “I’ll be back in a minute…”

You just sat there, scrolling through your phone.

And it started. Your back hit the bed’s back board, the heat getting to you. You knew you were going to get horny, but you didn’t know it was going to be this bad…

The heavy wooden door opened again. “Okay, so I wanted to see if-”

“Doctor…” Your voice was so whiny, you hardly knew you could make that kind of tone. “Need you.” You sat on your knees, reaching out for him, lips pouting, drawling out every word. Blood coursed through your veins, your heart beating out of your chest. And you felt all the blood rush to your clit at the sight of Kun.

“Fuck.” Kun pressed the stethoscope back against your chest, and after about 10 seconds he ripped it out of his ears, falling down towards your body, one of his hands on your shoulder, the other on your back. “Come on sweetie, let’s get you in the shower… or something, I…” Kun frantically looked around, his concern for you resulting in a furrowed brow. “Did your roommate bring you anything, a dildo, or…”

“You…” You finally got out a word. “Please, fuck me.” Tears began to well up in your eyes. It truly was a feeling you never felt, it was like you had been edging for days without release.

A million thoughts rushed into Kun's mind all at once. The loudest one being the word pathetic. You were a pathetic, whining mess, begging him for his cock, needing to fuck him. And it made him so hard. Any man would get hard in his situation, he figured. But he knew he had to stay professional, even if it was for a few more minutes. “I… I don’t think I can, I mean, I’m your doctor!” Kun pushed you off him, then slipped your jacket off you, trying to get you to cool down.

You had a ball of the fabric of Kun’s lab coat in your fist. “Please, I need… anyone.”

“Fuck, fuck… I thought Jaemin fixed it… I knew I shouldn’t have fucking trusted him.” Kun bit his lip, half wanting to search the suitcase and dressers in your room, but also knowing he needed to comfort you right now.

“Cum… Cum inside me…” You whined, your head hitting Kun’s chest. You breathed in the thick scent of his cologne. Minty, musky and woody. He smelled so good, and that just made things worse for some reason. It truly felt like you were going feral, like you were turning back to your primal instincts, needing him inside you, his warm release, to be filled up. “Need… you inside me…”

“Come on baby… work with me.” Kun helped you to your feet, leading you into the bathroom. The lock on the door automatically locked behind the two of you. Kun started undressing you as quickly as possible then pushed you into the bathtub. “Tell me if the water’s too cold.” He turned on the water, the cold helping lower your temperature.

“Kun…” You cooed, wrapping an arm around his neck. “Please, fuck me.”

You caught Kun looking at your body, up at your breasts and down to your thighs…

“I’ll, um…” Kun’s hand entered the water, and began to rub your clit, making you immediately reach your climax.

“Doctor!” You cried out. “More, more please!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know how to help you anymore…” Kun mumbled, thinking hard.

“Cock, please…” You whined.

“Fuck…” Kun helped you out of the bathtub and wrapped you in a towel, quickly drying you off then leading you to the bed, bending you over the mattress.

“Cum inside, please, please, please…” You really felt like you were actually going brain dead, the only thing on your mind being Kun’s cock.

And he finally was inside you. You let Kun do whatever he wanted to with your body. You figured he must’ve been pent up, too. The way his cock slammed into your womb, hitting your cervix with ease, letting you know how sore you were going to be tomorrow. His hands made their way into your mouth, both middle and ring fingers hooking into your cheeks, stretching your lips horizontally, making you drool, tongue sticking out on its own.

He was rough, nothing like the shy boy he was two seconds ago, who didn’t even know if he should be fucking you. It was like a flip switched in his brain, like he was just pretending to be kind so his cock would feel even better when it went inside you…

“Doctor, please be gentler!” You felt like you were melting on his dick, so hot and so hard…

“I don’t want to.” His hands moved to your neck, wrapping around your neck, choking you until you were unable to breathe.

“Cumming!” You screamed out, hitting your second climax.

You felt your womb filling up with Kun’s cum before he pulled out.

He picked you up and laid you back down. “Do you feel better?”

You nodded, sitting up, covering yourself with the blanket.

“Good. I’ll be back with your dinner.” Kun slid his pants back up then left.

And after about 30 minutes you felt like a bitch in heat all over again.

“Dinner.” Kun entered again after 45 minutes, catching you with your fingers inside yourself. “Jesus Christ…” He sighed, slamming the tray onto the nearest table.

“Doctor…” You whimpered, hoping he would fuck your again.

“You’re so… pathetic. And whiny.” Kun ran his hands through your hair, then grabbed your hand, pulling your fingers out of yourself and licking your juices off. He stood at the foot of the bed, grabbing your foot to pull you down and began to lick your clit.

And again, you practically immediately reached your high…

Kun wiped his face, your cum on his nose and lips. “Do you feel better?”

You shook your head. “Cum…” You whined. “Please?”

Kun facepalmed, sighing. “Ride me.” He sat on the couch in your room.

You slid off your bed and sat on Kun’s lap, facing away from him, lining his cock into you.

“You know, it’ll hurt more if you take it slow. Put it in all at once.” Kun his hand on your waist, stabilizing you.

“I know!” You whined, shoving it in. “Fuck!”

“Hm? Is that it?” Kun’s tone became more mocking than annoyed. “Do I have to do everything for you?” His arm went under your knees, fucking you under you.

“You’re in too deep, Doctor!” You cried out. You felt like Kun was in your womb. “You’re not gonna be able to pull out!”

“Don’t think.” Kun instructed.

And you did as told, letting your brain melt into nothingness other than the feeling of Kun’s cock inside you. You probably wouldn’t be able to recall your own name…

That was, until Kun’s cum flowed inside you again, bringing you into your own orgasm.

Kun dropped you back onto his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck and your head fell onto his chest.

You woke up still on Kun’s lap.

“How long-”

Kun cut you off. “45 minutes. It’s fine.” But really, the entire left side of Kun’s body was numb.

You nodded.

“So, what did you think?” Kun asked you as you climbed off his lap and back onto your own bed.

“It was… good. Amazing, actually, I’ve never felt so good…” You started dreaming about getting stuffed full of Kun’s cum all over again…

“I was talking about the medicine, but thanks for rating my dick.” Kun scoffed, getting up to give you your dinner.

“Oh. Not as fun.” You watched Kun.

“I, um… was thinking that you could live with me and help me test the rest of the iterations of the medication.” Kun hooked you back up to the blood pressure monitor.

“Maybe.” You took a bite of the dinner. “But I’ll say yes if it means I can keep having sex with you.

“You can keep having sex with me even when you stop being my patient.”

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct x reader #wayv smut #wayv x reader #kun smut #qian kun smut

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alexanderossis · 2 years

Text

Lando has food poisoning so have a soft Carlando moment while I cope with Nyck De Vries wearing Lando’s race suit lol.

Carlos is lying awake when his phone rings. It’s late enough in Brazil that he should be sleeping, but the time change is messing with his body. His phone is on Do Not Disturb, and concern flickers through as he reaches for it. Only a few people are set to get through, and they would only call if it’s an emergency.

It’s Lando.

“Lando,” Carlos picks up, sighing, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Don’t feel good,” Lando moans into the phone and it has Carlos bolting upright in the hotel bed.

“What’s going on, mi Amor?” Carlos pulls on the sweatpants discarded by his bed and pulls a discarded Ferrari shirt over his head.

“I- I think,” Lando pauses, shakes wracking through his body as he curls against the toilet, “I think maybe I ate something bad, I don’t-”

Carlos can hear him panting through the phone and his heart physically aches for him.

“I’m coming,” Carlos grabs his keycard off the counter next to the door and pads out into the hallway.

“Okay,” Lando sounds so small and sad and Carlos picks up the pace.

He uses the key that Lando had given him for ‘emergencies’, which at the time Carlos thought would be for playing video games or taking pre-race naps, but now is being used for actual emergencies, to get into Lando’s hotel room.

Lando is lying on the bathroom floor when he gets there.

“Lando,” Carlos crouches next to him.

His poor boy is flushed, heat ripping through his body as he shivers on the floor.

“Do you want to sit up?”

Lando shakes his head, groaning as a wave of nausea comes over him.

“You’re going to have to drink something at some point, okay?” Carlos reaches for a paper cup near the sink and starts to fill it.

“It won’t stay down,” Lando pants, pulling himself up to heave over the toilet.

Carlos fills the cup and sets it on the bathtub near Lando’s hunched figure. He rubs Lando’s back gently as he throws up, nothing coming up but bile at this point. There are tears streaming down Lando’s flushed cheeks and Carlos just wants to pull the sickness into himself and take it away from Lando so he doesn’t have to go through it anymore.

Lando leans his head against the toilet seat, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and fever.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Carlos says, stroking his hair. All he feels is panic, but one of them has to be thinking clearly right now, and it’s definitely not going to be Lando. “I’m going to call Jon and we’re going to try and get your fever down a bit, okay?”

Lando nods slightly and Carlos presses a kiss to his forehead. “I know Jon isn’t a doctor but he’ll hopefully know what to do. More than I do, at least.”

“Don’t care,” Lando says quietly, “Just want you here.”

“I’m here, I’m here.” Carlos reassures him as Lando sniffs, fresh tears falling. “I know it’s awful, baby. I’m so sorry.”

He helps Lando to lay back down on the floor before standing up and grabbing a washcloth from the towel rack and running it under cool water. He uses one side of it to wipe gently at Lando’s mouth and then soaks it again, pressing the clean side to Lando’s head in an attempt to stop the fever.

He helps Lando lay against him, Carlos with his back against the sink, Lando with his head against Carlos’s chest. He tries to keep him as calm as possible, hoping Lando might be overcome with exhaustion and fall asleep, but they are interrupted every few minutes by waves of nausea.

Jon shows up about 30 minutes later with a team medic in tow. Carlos backs out of the bathroom to give them some space and to take a few deep breaths to stop the panic from overtaking him. He’s never seen Lando like this, so small and sickly.

Lando calls out for him from the bathroom, almost delirious with fever. The medic is prepping an IV and if Lando had more strength, Carlos knows Lando would be fighting him off.

”Lando doesn’t like needles,” Carlos supplies automatically, leaning against the bathroom door.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any other choice,” The doctor grimaces, “If I don’t get some fluids and meds into his system, he’s going to get dehydrated.”

Jon pushes to his feet and leads Carlos out of the bathroom. “Why don’t we find some clean clothes for Lando to change into?”

Carlos knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t mind. He needs the distraction, whether or not he wants to admit it to Jon.

“Is he going to be okay?” Carlos asks quietly as he rifles through Lando’s suitcase.

“I think he’ll be fine.” Jon takes the pair of sleep shorts from Carlos’ hands and sets them on the bed, “He probably will miss media tomorrow, though.”

Carlos nods. He pulls out a recognizable hoodie from Lando’s suitcase, the number 55 emblazoned on the back. It makes him smile softly.

“He’s in good hands, don’t worry,” Jon pats him on the back and heads back to the bathroom to check on Lando.

Between the fluids and the medication in the IV, Jon and the doctor manage to get Lando to the hotel bed. Carlos joins him, helping Lando to change into clean clothes, and letting his boyfriend rest his head on his chest.

The doctor tells them about as much as Jon could say and tells Lando that he will re-evaluate him in the morning. They leave them both with the instructions to sleep and hope for the best.

The door closes behind them, leaving Carlos and Lando alone and Carlos lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Lando is already fighting the sleep that’s trying to wash over him, scooting closer to Carlos.

“You need to sleep,” Carlos cuddles him closer.

Lando looks up at him, eyes wide and soft and so so brown, “Thank you. For coming and for staying.”

Carlos presses a kiss to his head, “Of course.”

“I love you,” Lando mumbles, closing his eyes.

”I love you too,” Carlos rubs his back, “Now sleep.”

Hope you enjoyed it! And hopefully Lando feels better for the race.

Read it on A03:https://archiveofourown.org/works/42995520

#carlando #0455 #5504 #Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr #carlos sainz jr #lando norris #f1 fics

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quinloki · 1 year

Text

Some Direction

Fem Reader x Roronoa Zoro

CW: Language, stalking, violence, sexual themes and situations, ptsd 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 21: Solid White Line

Things were a bit of a blur. You had injuries enough to warrant going to the hospital, and Zoro needed to have surgery for his gash on his face, along with a few other cuts he'd gotten during the fight. You yelled at him until he got on the gurney and then rode in the ambulance with him to the hospital. It was a little comical to see you practically growling at him until he obliged, and you apologized during the ride to the hospital for embarrassing him.

The EMTs in the ambulance with you had grins in their faces, but no one said anything. Zoro just squeezed your hand while the EMTs did their job.

The longest time you spent separated from him over the next three days was when he was in surgery.

Usopp survived - the shot that hit him didn't penetrate the mask he had been wearing, but the impact had knocked him out cold. He was still unconscious, and under police supervision and custody.

"Once he regains consciousness, he'll be processed and imprisoned pending trial." Smoker was explaining things to you and Zoro.

Zoro's surgery went as well as it could, but the bandages on his face - protecting his eye as it healed - weren't coming off yet. The hospital, with help from you and Mihawk, were keeping him on minimal activity and maximum bed rest until things healed enough. He was sitting up while Smoker and Tashigi were here, but he hadn't been arguing when you made him lay down otherwise. Though you imagined the lack of his complaining was because you'd often lay down with him, or at least stay nearby and hold his hand.

"You might be called to testify, but there's enough evidence that testimony might not be needed. His residence was filled with proof enough of his deeds." Smoker continues to explain.

"I... wouldn't be surprised if he confesses when he wakes up." You say, a troubled look on your face.

Zoro nods. "After he calms down."

Smoker grunts. "Given what he said to you in the warehouse, I wouldn't be surprised by any of that either. However things play out, I'll keep you as updated as I can. After all that you've both been through, it's the least I can do."

The officer looked like he had aged almost two years since you had first interacted with him over the break-in. You knew he had been stressed about how things had been handled, and you couldn't believe yours was the only case he had on his shoulders.

"We appreciate that. I'm glad everyone survived, and I hope Usopp gets the help he needs." You smile sadly and then squeeze Zoro's hand. "Preferably from quite the distance away from us, if I'm being honest."

"Understandable." Smoker admits.

"If there's anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to contact us." Tashigi offers, giving you a small card with her and Smoker's personal numbers on it.

"Thanks, and uh, I mean this as kindly as I can, but I hope I never have to see either of you after this is over." You admit sheepishly, gratefully accepting the card despite your words.

You hear Zoro grunt and after a second Smoker laughs. You're surprised, maybe even relieved, to hear actual joy in the man's laugh, given how serious and stressed he looked.

"May you never have need of us again," he agrees as he and Tashigi bow before leaving.

"How are you feeling today?" Zoro asks, running his hand gingerly over your midsection.

"Bruises hurt worse with time; I think." You admit, wincing a little as you let him shift you around so you're laying down beside him. The hospital bed is barely big enough for both of you, but ever since they disconnected most of the IVs from Zoro you had been spending a lot of time like this.

"Ready to leave tomorrow?"

"I'm ready to leave now." He grumbles.

You smile. "It's so awful being medically mandated to snuggle."

His ears flush red and his hand goes over your eyes, since he's not supposed to touch his. "You know that's not what I meant."

You giggle, tilting your head enough to kiss his palm. "I know." You snuggle into him a little, taking care not to press against the few stitches he had on his torso.

37 stitches in total. Twenty for the line on his face, and 17 others on his shoulder, arm, and torso. Nothing fatal. You had an assortment of bruises and rope burns, the worst of which were the ones on your stomach and the slap from Usopp that had split your lip and cut your cheek into your teeth. You were able to eat solid foods without too much pain, but two days of jello and applesauce had not put you in a pleasant mood.

Not that you had said much on it. You felt horribly guilty about the entire ordeal. You felt like you had gotten off light compared to what Zoro went through. You had dealt with Usopp for hours and had a few bruises and a busted mouth. He had dealt with him for a few minutes and might have lost his eye because you couldn't get away fast enough.

In that vein of thinking, you had several sessions of therapy to attend as well. It had been offered by the government, and Mihawk had recommended that you both accept the offer. Better to work through what had happened with a professional, than to lean on another alone and hope for the best. Since you were having a hard time even talking about what was on your chest, you couldn't disagree.

"I wanted to ask," you say after a moment's silence. "I love the ring, but why is there a star etched in it?"

Zoro's face was instantly red, and his hand was over your face as you felt his whole body tense. There was a long silence, and you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

"Later." He finally manages, a moment before you were going to tell him he didn't have to tell you right now. "After we get home."

You nod. "Okay."

. . . . .

You and Mihawk were in the room with Zoro as the attending doctor, a man named Hongo with dirty blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, was checking Zoro's eye wound. The doctor was tall and broad-shouldered, but not overly bulky. He looked bigger than Mihawk and Zoro only because the other two were leaner than you expected from a couple martial artists.

"It's healing up nicely. The blade was sharp and that has actually helped." He leans back. "I've cleaned off the glue we were using to keep it still, can you open it for me?"

"Yeah, I think so." Zoro answers.

You had a death grip on Mihawk. You were sure you were almost crushing his hand, but he made no noise and offered no complaints. His other hand was over yours, offering comfort while you both watched things unfold.

"Seems the initial prognosis was correct... what do you see?"

"It's blurry."

"Painful at all?"

"Not really. Things are bright."

"That's good. Give it a couple more days, keep it clean, feel free to cover it up so you don't strain it. You might come away with this only needing some glasses, Mr. Roronoa." Dr. Hongo says, straightening up and tucking a light back in his pocket. "Bit of a miracle, honestly."

"It's okay then? His eye's okay?" You question hopefully, worried you had been misunderstanding the exchange.

Zoro turns to you, and you can see for yourself. It's red and swollen a little still, but it's intact and you can see that he sees you with it, blurry or not. Your legs buckle and Mihawk lowers you gently to the ground as you start crying in relief.

"I thought... you were gonna lose your eye... b-because you had to p-protect me!" You manage to choke the words out for the first time, covering your face in embarrassment, already well aware he would be irritated knowing you had been thinking that way. "I was so worried, and I couldn't say anything..."

"That's my cue," Hongo offers quietly, excusing himself from the room with a nod.

Mihawk pats your head lightly and steps out of the room as well. Zoro stands up from the bed and comes over to you. He stands there quietly for a moment before sitting down beside you. He doesn't say anything, just sits beside you while you get the tears out of your system. Giving you time and space to calm down without pressure.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, after you get your tears and breathing under control.

"For what?"

"... For... for feeling this guilty about it," you say after a moment. "I know it wasn't my fault, but it feels like it is and-."

His arms wrap around you, and he moves you into his lap easily. Sitting on the floor cradled against him calms you down. You want to admonish him for moving around so much even though he still has stitches, but you don't feel him flinch or twitch in pain, and the warmth of his embrace is comforting.

"It's okay." He says softly, kissing the top of your head.

"D-don't say something like you would've given both your eyes, or some other equally unacceptable outcome." You pout and feel him flinch. "Marimo."

Zoro clicks his tongue. "Don't you start."

"Marimos are cute."

"That's half my problem with that name."

"The other half?"

"... I like the way you say my name better."

Your face flushes as he hugs you.

"I can't promise I won't risk myself for you." He says, after a moment. His tone is a little apologetic, but it's more that his conviction is set.

"I know." You admit, a small pout in your vice.

You knew who he was. You knew his protective streak was only matched by his scowl. You knew he would've given an eye or more to see you come out of the ordeal unscathed and would've been almost inconsolable if you had suffered any loss yourself.

The double standard could be aggravating, but you understood it at least. You did what you did during your time with Usopp because you knew if you risked too much and died, he would never forgive himself. But you had to risk something in order to do all you could to protect him. Better to regret your actions than to lament your inactions after the fact.

Even if you weren't as strong, or as skilled, it didn't change the fact that you needed him to be okay. No matter what he risked and no matter what you faced.

"Hey, say it again." He prompts you, hugging you close.

You smile. "I love you."

#Some Direction #Roronoa Zoro x Reader #Zoro x Reader #one piece fanfiction #arranged marriage #reader insert

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istherewifiinhell · 2 months

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back on the grief train woo woo (day recap) (most serious skip warning yet)

i have a predilectiction to not wanting to record or remember when (like the specific when in time) bad things happen. but in the last couple years of blogging, and i guess the year and change of drawing ive found a lot more appeal of recall. so i wonder if its not so bad to. record the bad. at any rate i dont think. not recording it makes it less real. which i think is the fear. and. my head is doing it anyway.

im doing this coping method questionable activity here instead of a journal becauseeee??? natural format my brains prefers i suppose.

to recap. the bad horrible no good very bad day

- i went to sleep late, as usual. i wake late. same. i prelong getting out of bed. also same. scrolling idly (or 'pre scrolling' the dash. i dont know why i do it)

- screams. screams and distress and misery and comforting a screaming distressed person. various talking down of hysterical lines of thought. (thats not an insult. 1. circumstances 2. understood behavioural trends) the joint and mouth gear i sleep in dont even come off until the screaming is done. have u every pet someones head in a wrist brace?

- lots and lots of crying. more comforting. the gear comes off. i brush my teeth. exhausted sitting and hovering around the. scene of the incident.

- migration to kitchen as food needs win out. all doors shut and all living beings collect. toast is eaten. water drank. etc.

- backup arrives. infomation is gathered. places are looked up and called. plans are formed. actions are taken. i mentally catalogue setimental, soothing, but give upable fabrics.

- i rip up threadbare torn bed sheets. i have to figure out how to get my dead cat into a box.

-he was around 12-15 pounds. we called him toddler sized and shaped. he had a mean punch and strong grasp. i taught him to sit on my shoulders, sometimes.

- realise how much heavier he is now. i cry. i cover him with the sheet. i somehow get it under him. hes stiff. even the tail. i cry. i pet his fur. i sob getting him into the box.

- backup apologizes. im on my knees. wailing. i think. definetly louder than anything ive done yet. backup gestures the dog at me. knowing my situation. distressee entered at some point. gets a hug from back up. i think i am gestured into the hug. i gesture down. im on the floor.

- i wail and am hugged.

- i am invited on the trip to the place. i gestures to my face. my sleep clothes. i dont see it happening. im told i dont need to be strong all the time. i reiterate. i really just wouldnt be able to get my glasses and a mask on.

- i dont see the box. i dont see much. at i dont remember if i have tea now or earlier. i soon as i hear the car go. im crying again. the sister cat meowing didnt help. i dont actually know or belief if that. i have no idea what she experiences. shes a cat. but. yeah.

- blogging happens? sometime happens? people return.

- im told. four years ago he developed a heart murmer. apparently thats a thing. 4 years. bengin to. serious.

- blogging happens. as well as algorithmic irony. i am asked if i want to watch something. i say. shower first. i forget ever song ive ever heard. for a moment. i settle on the album pocket.

- eventually i come down. i get food. we watch a movie. its a good movie. i have a nice exchange with a friend during too.

- i watch some dishes and realise. bizarrely. my old manager might find out about this. the vet was near to my job. the guy was friends with the techs. this was the kind of infomation he would share with me at times.

- youtube videos until the group disbands.

- i start recounting this my head

- i am wearing pjs i dont like. whatever the level for snotty sleeves where u chuck a set in the hamper has surely been met.

- typing this. using a spare pillow case as a hanky

- im gonna go and try and find the horse traqulizer of pleasant youtube videos.

#some shit #animal death #TRULY. this ones for my own purposes. i have no fucking clue what another human being would do being presented with this info and #am not expecting shit nor dick.#just me and my public internet diary okay?

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cybermeep · 3 months

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something i remember mentioning in a draft, although not sure as to if i ever said it aloud; whenever i wear my doc martens, i have a crippling fear they’ll cut into my achilles heel and leave me unable to move.. now, i know in actuality you might just have slight motion problems, not be left immobile, but its always been a prevalent fear. ive been afraid of being cut around that area for.. years, now. below the cut (hah) is uh. some stuff mentioning the wound and personal things. sort of just depressing.

…when i wore my black pair of doc martens recently, even with thick socks, i remember they hurt. the black pair is likely to be a bit too small. i remember getting home and my achilles tendon feeling absolutely awful. i take off my sock to see, oh wow, two injuries! IN THE AREA! suffice to say i freaked out.

now, imagine you’re wearing a regular pair, one not too small— your arm is fucked up, (im just being honest here, if you want me to lie to the like, two people that read these, i don’t see the point.) in emotional pain, cried uncomfortably earlier in the day, and now are home. taking them off.

..a pool of blood had formed and soaked up into one of my socks, i bled so much from the area. i wasn’t even aware, but after figuring it out i was afraid. i now have a bandage on the area. i feel overwhelming uncomfortable in my own body. i dont like feeling the pulsing of a wound; it disturbs me.

now here i sit, arm scraped and heel uncomfortably vulnerable. i puked, and i still went and got up. it wasnt worth it.

as i walked by the wetlands near my house, i felt myself tear up at a memory. of a time when i was naïve and simply wanted to do new things; of the time i collected mushrooms in the pouring rain, marveled at vernal pools. i checked my mailbox; the spiders were nowhere to be found. i saw a roly poly while i was unlocking my front door; i looked above me and saw the long squished carcass of a bug, its blood green. i felt myself shake as i looked away from it and fumbled to find my keys.

i think about the small area i was in, the one next to the cafeteria with a small bench. i remember starting to tear up at the realization i was uncomfortably nothing in my seat, turning away as to at least somewhat hide my tears, to then have a teacher ask me if i was okay. i said i was fine; i just wanted to leave. i didn’t want to be seen crying—i dislike having people see me in emotional distress in that way.

sitting in there reminded me of the last time i was in that place, which seemed to make me feel even worse and cry just a bit harder. eventually i was able to compose myself and was able to get a small drink. i then got a friend a drink for her friend, as she was dehydrated.

as i sit here, in my bed, awaiting a bureaucratic lady to come stop by, i feel the following statement ring as true to an uncomfortable degree;

i am physically, emotionally, and mentally at my fucking limit.

….i will be fine, by all accounts. like ive mentioned before, i don’t die easily. its just.. jarring, to realize. even now i don’t have the ability to sit in the solace of my own room and cry, as she’ll be here any second and most certainly will wonder about my tears. It feels as if im stuck in some box i wasn’t aware i was inside of.

i want to go home, but i am home.

#wound mention #<- just incase…#cybers tangents

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mugiwara-no-toshokan · 11 months

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Some Direction

CisFem Reader x Roronoa Zoro

CW: Language, stalking, violence, sexual themes and situations, ptsd -- surprisingly fluffy despite it all. 18+ only

Chapter 21: Solid White Line

The EMTs in the ambulance with you had grins in their faces, but no one said anything. Zoro just squeezed your hand while the EMTs did their job.

The longest time you spent separated from him over the next three days was when he was in surgery.

Usopp survived - the shot that hit him didn't penetrate the mask he had been wearing, but the impact had knocked him out cold. He was still unconscious, and under police supervision and custody.

"Once he regains consciousness, he'll be processed and imprisoned pending trial." Smoker was explaining things to you and Zoro.

"You might be called to testify, but there's enough evidence that testimony might not be needed. His residence was filled with proof enough of his deeds." Smoker continues to explain.

"I... wouldn't be surprised if he confesses when he wakes up." You say, a troubled look on your face.

Zoro nods. "After he calms down."

"Understandable." Smoker admits.

"If there's anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to contact us." Tashigi offers, giving you a small card with her and Smoker's personal numbers on it.

"Thanks, and uh, I mean this as kindly as I can, but I hope I never have to see either of you after this is over." You admit sheepishly, gratefully accepting the card despite your words.

You hear Zoro grunt and after a second Smoker laughs. You're surprised, maybe even relieved, to hear actual joy in the man's laugh, given how serious and stressed he looked.

"May you never have need of us again," he agrees as he and Tashigi bow before leaving.

"How are you feeling today?" Zoro asks, running his hand gingerly over your midsection.

"Ready to leave tomorrow?"

"I'm ready to leave now." He grumbles.

You smile. "It's so awful being medically mandated to snuggle."

His ears flush red and his hand goes over your eyes, since he's not supposed to touch his. "You know that's not what I meant."

You giggle, tilting your head enough to kiss his palm. "I know." You snuggle into him a little, taking care not to press against the few stitches he had on his torso.

"I wanted to ask," you say after a moment's silence. "I love the ring, but why is there a star etched in it?"

Zoro's face was instantly red, and his hand was over your face as you felt his whole body tense. There was a long silence, and you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

"Later." He finally manages, a moment before you were going to tell him he didn't have to tell you right now. "After we get home."

You nod. "Okay."

. . . . .

"It's healing up nicely. The blade was sharp and that has actually helped." He leans back. "I've cleaned off the glue we were using to keep it still, can you open it for me?"

"Yeah, I think so." Zoro answers.

"Seems the initial prognosis was correct... what do you see?"

"It's blurry."

"Painful at all?"

"Not really. Things are bright."

"It's okay then? His eye's okay?" You question hopefully, worried you had been misunderstanding the exchange.

"That's my cue," Hongo offers quietly, excusing himself from the room with a nod.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, after you get your tears and breathing under control.

"For what?"

"... For... for feeling this guilty about it," you say after a moment. "I know it wasn't my fault, but it feels like it is and-."

"It's okay." He says softly, kissing the top of your head.

"D-don't say something like you would've given both your eyes, or some other equally unacceptable outcome." You pout and feel him flinch. "Marimo."

Zoro clicks his tongue. "Don't you start."

"Marimos are cute."

"That's half my problem with that name."

"The other half?"

"... I like the way you say my name better."

Your face flushes as he hugs you.

"I can't promise I won't risk myself for you." He says, after a moment. His tone is a little apologetic, but it's more that his conviction is set.

"I know." You admit, a small pout in your vice.

Even if you weren't as strong, or as skilled, it didn't change the fact that you needed him to be okay. No matter what he risked and no matter what you faced.

"Hey, say it again." He prompts you, hugging you close.

You smile. "I love you."

#Some Direction #Roronoa Zoro x Reader #Zoro x Reader #one piece fanfiction #arranged marriage #reader insert #x reader

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