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#in a friendly way of course <3
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Big Bonny ♥
credit: 1 / 2 / 3 4 / 5 / 6 7 / 8 / 9
#ssoblr#bonnycore#home#mine#tbh her personal style to me is mainly pseudo victorian (more edwardian but u know. ''victorian'') purely because of her entire#i'm-NOT!!1!-steampunk thing#and she doesn't naturally drift toward floral patterns and porcelain figure grandma maximalism at all as she (in newer dialogue ☝️)#listens to rock mix tapes and her LIFE is engineering; as feminine as i think her *personality* is..#(obviously ur music taste does not always match your style but this just vibes with me)#i basically see the interior of her house as looking more frilly and decorated purely bc lady also lives there 😌#bonny is cluttered.. but not in a maximalism way just a neurodivergent artist who leaves her projects in the middle of the house#and forgets where she put her groceries so she has to go shopping again in an emergency kind of way#but she's otherwise almost more like spartan when it comes to decorating her living space#she would lean way more into the boiler room-dwelling mechanic aesthetic if she didn't have a cottagecore wife imo#industrial *steam*punk gasoline automaton endoskeleton core bc again engineering is her biggest passion in life and what she#takes great pride in; her slightly fancier outfit is just bc of the ''victorian'' part of the steampunk aesthetic and because she has#to look presentable and a model citizen so she can show off her inventions to everybody 💛#but i have a hc that her house would most likely be a little bit fancy victorian but mainly clockwork and pipes and metal everywhere#and that bonny isn't very good at making things look.. pretty. see: h.o.r.s.e. etc but it's fine! she's good at making things functional#idk i like the contrast between her appearing more like a tomboy but then being emotional and talkative and friendly#and then cussing you out in a delicate mezzosoprano when you insult her; it's just nice to me she's very androgynous in#a more unique big bonny original way#anyway n yeah bonny's style is basically loosely victorian because of course it is & heavy on the engineering clutter & any#colourful pillows or cute embroidery in the house is from lady which bonny thinks is lovely but can't take credit for#n bonny & lady would love solarpunk and they'd both end up creating a very visually interesting creative home together#i think it would end up looking a little surrealist from the combination fairy tale fantasy & mechanical elements :)#but surrealist in more of a gentle children's illustration way and not a horror way bc their living room is not immediately#mad scientist vibes#like leonora carrington got together with a hot air balloon themed nursery pinterest board#and bonny would just. automatically be more utilitarian but genuinely enjoy lady's taste. and they build off each other a lot <3
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wright-phoenix · 7 months
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the dark urge;
"there's no magic binding this blood to your body — only guilt"
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edenisme · 7 months
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Here’s what they should do: next splatfest, Frye and Big Man should team up and have the same splatfest option. It can be like a special event or maybe it happens after one of the idols starts getting a win streak (like maybe three in a row triggers it?). That way we get back to a two-option splatfest to even out the odds and give ppl a break from the three-option popularity imbalances. Tricolor will have attacking and defending like normal but both attacking teams will match and be unable to splat each other.
If the idol with the streak wins again then the two-option splatfests continue until they lose (the other two idols joking about making sure their third member doesn’t get a big head). And most importantly this is ENTIRELY IN GOOD FUN. They’re razzing each other, not fighting, like the usual splatfest “rivalry”
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cowardstiel · 9 months
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i think it should be mandatory that everyone watch The Social Dilemma at least once every six months
#dear everyone saying that tumblr doesn't have an algorithm: yes it does oh my GOD.#i see people say this so often irt twitter and reddit migration#just because tumblr has a different feed system to facebook/inta/twitter doesn't mean the only things you see are exactly what you want#free of influence or coercion#simplest example is tumblr suggesting users and tags for u to follow. what do you think is informing its suggestions?#how does it know which blogs are similar? it's not by fucking chance#please i know we all clown on what a mess this website is and how poorly it delivers ads but let's not forget that that's a choice they mak#if tumblr wanted to deliver ads in the way other social media sites do they could. but it's part of the image they've created for themselve#hence why they feel they can offer a paid subscription to remove ads that has an off switch so u can still see their weird crazy zany ads#because they know how much we love to clown on their shit ads. they know users will screenshot and share ads if they're weird enough#and they want you to. they're not so incompetent that they can't get us classy ads lol. this is their brand. let's not forget that!#anyway this is all triggered by me sending someone (hi bunni <3) a post of misha collin's sfx make up in gotham knights that popped up as a#recommended post despite me never having watched it or searched for it etc. what triggered that post appearing was me searching/tagging spn#a couple times recently. and of course misha collins and spn are frequently cross tagged. anyway since then i have been bombarded with that#godforsaken show constantly on my dash#sorry to gotham knights enjoyers i get the appeal and i am a dc simp but it's just not for me ig#if u read all this i love u im kissing you sloppystyle and or giving u a firm and warm handshake and or a friendly nod like we're walking#past each other on a beautiful day <3#my post
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berryblu-soda · 1 month
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My boy Stark is truly the CEO of "do it scared" hahah
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darkfinch · 2 years
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hello hi i am thinking. that parker brings pancake the cat to practice her fun Laser-Evading Acrobatics and pancake goes absolutely ballistic
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sayonaramidnight · 2 years
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OK, let's see if I'm interpreting it right:
PSYCHIC - I wish I could hug you, you're the sweetest person I know
WATER - sometimes I think you're ready to bite me at all times
So, next time we hang out you hug me and I bite you? >:D
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ace-octo-pix · 2 years
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agent 3 and agent 8 admire each other they think the other is pretty and handsome and know each other’s moves and get to know each other fall in love with it and... and..
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bonewreath · 3 months
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𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]
warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.
author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3
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The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.
Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”
Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?
Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”
“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.
“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”
You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”
Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”
That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.
It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.
“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.”
You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.
“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”
Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”
You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”
Oh god.
“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.
“I like girls, you know.”
It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.
“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”
Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”
She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”
You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.
“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.
“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.
Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”
She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.
“Want some? Will that make you spill?”
You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”
Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”
She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.
By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.
“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.
“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.
“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”
“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.
You shake your head. “No way.”
“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”
You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.
You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.
The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”
Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”
You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.
“Do you feel the same about me?”
The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”
Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.
“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.
You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”
“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.
“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.
You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.
“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?
“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”
One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.
“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”
You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.
“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.
They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.
“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.
“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”
“God, yes,” you practically whine.
When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.
Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.
You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.
“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”
She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.
Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.
“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.
You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.
“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”
“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.
“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”
She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.
Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.
Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.
She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.
“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.
“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”
You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.
Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.
“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”
Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.
Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.
“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.
She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.
“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”
She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.
“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.
“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”
When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.
This will be fun.
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runa-falls · 3 months
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gif from @pirateherokillian
pairing: jake lockley x shy!reader
summary: you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend
cw: explicit (18+), dub-con (reader is tipsy), afab!reader, dry humping to piv pipeline, fingering, multiple orgasms, longing/pining losers, love (?), push-over!jake, needy!reader, 'just the tip' is never just the tip, alcohol consumption, pet names, daddy kink, creampie, fluff :3 -- not beta-read
wc: 5.1k
a/n: pls, it was never supposed to be this long. i'm sorry for taking FOREVER to write this. anyways, this is based off my blabbering in discord -- i dedicate this to my whores (affectionate) <3
mk masterlist | main masterlist
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You don’t drink. 
At least not in front of Jake. 
Alcohol makes you…indulgent, to say the least, and that’s a side you’ve been holding back from your best friend. 
Yes, you’ve had a drink or two at some group hangouts in the past, but this, you, Jake, and a few bottles of gifted wine, surprisingly has never happened in the past. You’ve made sure of it.
What almost makes it worse is that Jake’s always been a sweetheart about your choices to avoid drinking around him. After your first few bouts of excuses and timid declines, he doesn’t pressure you to keep up with him when he’s knocking back shots or drinking pitchers of beer. 
Whenever your other friends press another drink into your hand, he subtly takes it for you, drinking it in large gulps before returning the glass from your hand. And when he pulls away, his fingers always find a way to graze against yours. Thankfully the bars are usually dimly lit so he can’t see the blush heating at your cheeks. 
He doesn’t realize it’s because of him. He’s the reason bartenders give you weird looks when you ask for watered-down vodka cranberries or why you’re always the last one standing in your friend group whenever you go out. This restraint around alcohol has gone on for years all because you harbor an intense attraction for your best friend. 
It didn’t start that way. He crashed into your quiet life and obliterated the dynamics of your friend group. When you first met him, you thought his cocky and blasé attitude was overcompensating for something.
He’s always been a natural sweet talker, not afraid to approach people and get what he wants, but it seemed too good to be true. He’s too charismatic, too interested in the dull life you live, how did he dig out a hole and place himself so easily in your life?
Easily, too easily, you fell for his sweet words, words that would inevitably draw you into his orbit and leave you hanging off of every syllable. 
You learned that no matter what he says, or does, he’s just being friendly. He’s just like that with everyone. It means nothing when he gives you a cheeky grin from across the bar or when he consistently insists on walking you home at night. Sure, he might stick closer to your side than anyone else's, but it’s just because you’re best friends. Right?
Of course, girls have tried and failed to lock down your best friend, misinterpreting his outgoing personality as him propositioning them. And they always come to you – whining over his lack of interest, the sudden and unexpected rejection of their advances, and grappling for any advice from his girl best friend. 
“He’s single, isn’t he?” The words are said over the thin rim of a martini glass. She glances over at you with hopeful eyes framed by beautifully dark lashes. 
You barely knew the girl’s name, but she offered to buy you a drink (a shirley temple) so you stayed for the conversation, however, you weren’t expecting the topic to circle back to Jake. But after watching her down a couple of martinis, gushing more and more about the man you’ve been pining after for an eon, you felt too bad to leave her. 
“Um…as far as I know.” It’s a little uncomfortable, talking about Jake like you’re his keeper.
“Then – then why won’t he go out – or even hook up with me?” Her voice has gotten louder with the exasperation of her inquiries. You look around at the bar, hoping she can keep it together before you’re kicked out for causing a ruckus. 
“Look, I don’t know if I’m the best –”
“But you’re his best friend, right?”
“Yes, but –”
“What’s his type?”
His type?
God, you wish you knew. It would make things a lot easier for yourself (and the world). But you genuinely don’t know. You’ve never seen him with a girl. Sure, he could be hooking up on the side, but why would he tell you?
You look down at your glass. All that’s left is ice, melting into an amalgam of pink-tinted liquid around the one maraschino cherry you refuse to eat. 
“I don’t know.” You mumble.
You’re already through a bottle and a half, lounging comfortably on the overstuffed couch in your living room. Something is playing on the TV but it’s all a blur behind the feeling of his thigh pressing against yours. 
Jake has never been afraid of showing his affection through physical means, whether it’s greeting ladies with a friendly peck on the cheek or ruffling one of the guy’s hair when he goes by. It’s natural to him. Casual.
But with you, he’s mostly hands-off. 
It’s not that you deign to feel his touch, to feel the scratchiness of his whiskers rub against the edge of your hairline, or lower against the sensitive skin of your throat, you just can’t control your reactions when he does it. Even the light touch of his hand against your lower back when he guides you has you standing straighter. 
He noticed your strong reactions to him and backed off, assuming you were uncomfortable or unused to friendly touches. And it was fine until you would do anything to feel him against you again, just one more time. It’s desperate, really, but you don’t really care when he looks at you with those cocoa-butter eyes. 
And now, he’s closer than ever but still hands-off. He politely sits next to you, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other in his lap. But not touching you. 
He’s been making commentary about the dumb hallmark movie you impulsively rented, pointing out all the unrealistic plot conveniences and bright red flags that the main character blatantly ignores. He seems relaxed. 
You aren’t.
Two stained wine glasses sit on the coffee table, dangerously close to the edge, still holding a sip of liquid. You can barely make out the intricate print of his lips on the edge of the cup, highlighted by the brightness of the hallmark snow scene. 
You want so badly to steal the glass away and lick up the residual bitter-sweetness of the wine that’s touched his lips. To taste him, even indirectly. Or directly. Lick the sweetness straight from the source, tongue intermingling with him as he takes just as much from you. You feel yourself pulse from that image alone.
“Bunny?” Heat prickles against the back of your neck as you realize how far away your brain is, thinking such filthy and depraved thoughts of the man who is sitting right next to you. 
He dotes on you like a person would their favorite pet cat. He calls you pet names, ones that make you bite your tongue and hide your face in your hands. Bunny was the first one and the one he uses the most. 
It came out of nowhere, really. You were both at a small house party and Jake convinced you to join his team in a game of beer pong. You were still a bit nervous around him, still surprised when he’d seek you out for a conversation or to get your opinion on something entirely irrelevant. 
You told him upfront that your hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, but he was determined to teach you. The first few throws were pitiful, so pitiful, in fact, that the other team gave you a freebie to make up for it. 
“Here, lemme give you a hand.” You couldn’t even react before he was sidled behind you, his chest nearly flush against your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your body is frozen, soaking in the overwhelming closeness.
You can barely decipher the individual cups of beer with his voice low behind your ear as he directs you, “Keep it right….there” He lets go of your arm and you already miss his touch, “and put a little more power into your throw.” 
He steps back, giving you space to take a breath and refocus. 
You throw it, more mechanical than you would’ve liked, but it – miraculously – goes in. 
Immediately you turn around to get his reaction, the praise that you secretly crave from a man you barely know. 
He grins down at you, “You’re a natural, bunny.” 
And the nickname stuck.
You look over at him, lazily blinking up to meet his fond gaze, “Hm?” You feel all fuzzy inside, overexcited yet pinned down by the unexplainable need to stay close to him. 
He smirks down at you, arm subtly lowering to barely touch the back of your head, “What’cha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” You try to lean into the feeling of his arm, hoping that if you ease into it, he won’t notice. “You had this… faraway look in your eyes for a moment.”
Oh, he noticed. But there’s no way he knows what you were thinking, right? A flash of embarrassment stings hot in your cheeks. You don’t think when you shyly nuzzle your face into his bicep to avoid his curious eyes, “I think I just zoned out or something.”
He hums, “You tired?” You turn your face to look at him, cheek resting against him. God, he smells so good. You never want to move from this spot. “Want me to tuck you in?” His voice coos teasingly, but you soak in the sweetness of it. He can be so soft sometimes.
Scrambled words echo in your mind: But if you go to bed, you’ll leave. You’ll take your arm out from under me and leave me here to think about you, all alone. Why can’t you just – Your thoughts quickly dissipate when he pulls you closer to him, hand at your waist to press your body against his.
Your hand presses delicately against his chest in surprise and you can barely feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his muscles.
You softly shake your head, “Not tired.”
“Sure, baby.” 
Baby. 
That’s new. 
Your thighs involuntarily press together with how good it sounds coming from his lips. Directed at you. Somehow, even with all the pet names he’s given you throughout the span of your friendship, this one hits home.
He says it with the casualness of a boyfriend and tenderness of a lover. You can almost feel him panting it against the crook of your neck as he pushes inside of you, hand clutching yours as his hips roll perfectly against yours. 
You don’t even realize your legs are rubbing together like a cricket at dusk until a warm hand wraps around the top of your thigh. He pulls them apart, spreading your legs like you’ve always dreamed he would. Despite the suggestive position, you still whine at the loss of friction, thoughtlessly fighting against the insisting tug of his hand.
He hushes you gently, a soft tone barely easing your frustration. You latch your fingers onto his wrist, attempting to guide him to the spot that you really need him to touch, but he barely budges. His grip on your thigh tightens when his name drips brokenly from your lips. 
“J-Jake…” 
“Sweetheart, stop.”
“But –”
“Please.” Jake looks down at you with a pained expression, all past chivalry betrayed by the darkness pooled in his eyes.
You look up at him with misty eyes and flushed skin, innocence in the palm of his hand. “I need you.” You bite your lip at your admission, stained red from the wine, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You pull at him again and this time he lets you. Both of you look down as his hand cups you over your shorts.
“You’re too drunk right now.” The whispered attempt of resistance falls on deaf ears as you arch your hips into his touch. Neither of you notice that the movie ended, leaving you in a silence where only the exchange of breathless pants can be heard. 
“Touch me.” You whine, desperate for anything. Desperate just to be accepted by him.
His gaze briefly flicks up from where he’s touching to regard your eagerness with half-lidded eyes. He shakes his head and looks away like he’s looking for answers on the blank wall next to him. “I…shouldn’t.” 
You start to panic when you feel his hand pull away. It can’t end like this. You hold onto his wrist when a particularly needy idea pops into your mind. If he doesn’t want to ‘defile’ you, then fine. You’ll do it yourself.
“I…c-could i just rub myself against you?” You berate yourself for sounding so meek, so unsure, but you’ve never done anything like this before, never had to take control of the situation. “Like, if you don’t want to…um, touch me.” He looks at you wordlessly, gorgeous lips parted at your suggestion.
His tongue brushes over his bottom lip, “I– Okay, sure…” 
With his permission, you push up against the couch to get up and straddle over him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting it with how his hands barely hover over your body like he’s unsure whether he wants to pull you closer or shove you off his lap. “Is this okay?” 
“Yeah.” He sounds strained, “But just for a little bit, alright?” 
“Ok.” You promise though you’re sure that once you get a taste, you’ll never want to stop. You have to make this good for him so he’ll want you back.
You settle against him, body thrumming with anticipation when your clothed cunt meets the prominent hardness under his jeans. So he does want it. His hands clasp onto your waist when you start to move over him, hips experimentally rolling against his.
Jake watches you move over him with a look of deep hunger and awe. It’s endearing how shy you are, even now grinding on his lap. Your movements are clumsy – unpracticed as you desperately try to chase that spark that’ll satisfy the heat buried deep down inside of you. 
“That good, baby?” 
You nod, mewling quietly as the seam of his jeans drags perfectly against your clit. Pleasure pools in your stomach, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. You hold onto his shoulders as you work yourself over him, panting from your effort. He starts to cant his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, pressing his erection roughly against your core to show you just how much he wants you. 
All you can think of is how good it would feel to have him bare against you, skin to skin. When you meet your peak, body hot and trembling as you rub against him, the end never comes. It’s not enough. You’re just left teetering at the top with no drop in sight.
You huff, “Jake, can I – just…please.” You let your hands drop from his shoulders to start working on his belt.
“What is it bunny, what do you need?” He looks so good under you with his wrinkled shirt unbuttoned just so to give you a peak of his collarbone and the newly open belt hanging from the loops in his tight jeans. You undo the button, fingers briefly fumbling as your knuckle brushes against his bulge.
“Just need to feel you.” You paw at the waist of his pants, trying to subtly indicate that you need his help to take them off. But he sits there and smiles sweetly at your frustrated huffs. 
“And what about me?” He says in a teasing drawl. He drags you closer to him and cups your face until your lips nearly meet yours. He’s so close that you can make out the light dusting of freckles that grace his nose and cheeks. Amber eyes bore into yours as he whispers, “You’re using my body and haven’t even given me a kiss yet.”
“Oh.” Your gaze drops to his lips, “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, baby.” He leans in, “just kiss me.” Your eyes flutter close when you meet the softness of his lips. You immediately melt into the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw with a sigh as he desperately keeps you close. 
Jake groans, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, a taste of pure heaven melting on the tip of his tongue, before hungrily deepening the kiss. He licks against the seam of your mouth, begging you to open yourself up to him. You surrender yourself to him, letting him slide in and taste you from the inside out. 
Your hands move up from his shoulders to his soft curls, tugging eagerly in an attempt to hear the soft groan that rumbles in his chest. He nips at your bottom lip, suckling it until it’s pink and tender, wanting to leave a mark so you’ll always think of him. He can’t help but press against you when you whimper for him, grinding eagerly against your center, wishing he was inside of you instead.  
“Just the tip.” You mumble it against his lips. He’s too far gone to clearly hear what you said, lost in a thick fog of awe, lust, and…love. At his silence, you pull away to look at him, scared you’re asking for too much. “Jake.” He nods thoughtlessly, chasing your lips, already missing your taste. He almost whines when you pull away from his touch, but quickly comes back to reality when he sees the way you’re nervously looking at him. 
He squeezes your waist comfortingly, “Anything you want, bunny.” You smile at the pet name and gratefully peck his lips. He tries to deepen the kiss, hand already pressing against the back of your head, but you cheekily pull away before he gets too far. You stand up, ignoring his objections and clingy touches as you get off of his lap. 
You fluidly slip your shirt over your head before carelessly dropping it to the floor behind you. There’s fire in his eyes as he sits back on the couch and watches you reveal the cute bra that cups you so perfectly. You tease the edge of your waistband as you look down at him, “Off, please.” You gesture at his jeans. He follows your directions, quickly shimmying his pants off, eyes on you the whole time.
You follow him, tugging your shorts off to show him the matching panties. You squeak when warm hands abruptly pull you to the couch, eagerly wandering over your waist and hips as he buries his face against your neck. 
“Can’t help it, baby,” His touch drifts up to cup the underside of your tits, trailing carefully over the curve to memorize the shape of you. “You’re just so fucking pretty.” He groans hot and heavy against your neck as he squeezes your softness. 
You’re back on top of him, naked thighs draped over his, skin against skin, and now, you can feel all of him. He’s pressed so deliciously against your core, pulsing with pure desire and heat. The only thing separating the two of you is fading self-control and a pair of thin panties.
His mustache tickles against your throat as his lips drift over your pulse point. He presses heady kisses against the edge of your jaw, gauging where your most tender spots are. 
“Oh–!” Your thighs clench around him when he touches a particularly delicate area near your ear. He gently nips at the spot, holding you tighter when you moan at the feeling.
Jake lets out a broken groan when you reach between your bodies and take him into your hand. He tries to continue giving your body loving attention with his lips, but his kisses get messy, dragging lazily over your shoulder and collarbone, with how distracted he is by your touch. He has to pull away for a breather and hold himself back from thrusting into your fist when you squeeze him teasingly at the base. 
“Bunny…” You both look down and watch as your smaller hand slowly strokes him. His cock is flush with need, leaking so prettily as you try your hardest to make it good for him. You slip your other hand under his shirt, running your fingers against his coarse happy trail to his rippling muscles. The couch groans next to you as he harshly grips the arm, barely holding himself back with white knuckles. “Oh, f-fuck.” His body stiffens under you as you brush your thumb against the sensitive underside of the tip. 
You tenderly massage the spot, watching in awe as he continues to spill over your fingers, making a mess that drips onto your inner thighs and the edge of his shirt. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing desperately in your hold.
As beads of white paint your fingers, your mouth waters just thinking about how he tastes. You feel ravenous to see him cum, to watch how easily you can ruin him. “H-hold on, cariño. Give me a second.” Jake chokes out. His hips stutter under you before he pulls your hand away.
"Whyy." You whine, pouting up at him with starry eyes. You reach for him again with the hand he isn’t holding onto, brushing your fingers against his sensitive cock. He shudders for you with a broken groan. 
“I'm close-- just – stop for a moment –” Both hands are pinned to your side as Jake’s chest heaves under his shirt. He rests his head back against the couch, eyes closed as he struggles to hold himself back. 
“But…I want you to.”
“I know, baby,” He lifts his head, dark eyes boring into yours, and pulls your hands behind you. You squirm in his lap, back arching at the position, suddenly remembering your own desperation. It feels good to be bound by his hands, to let him do whatever he wants to your body. “But I don’t wanna finish if it isn’t in you.” 
Your face heats in embarrassment. “Oh.” 
Jake picks up on your sudden shyness immediately. 
“You like that, don’t you, bunny?” He smirks, “The thought of me filling you up, then dripping out of you?”
You bite your lip, “A little bit.”
“A little, hm?” He ponders, “Well why don’t we try it out and see.” Your thighs clench around him at the idea.
“Ok.”
“Sit up, let me see how wet you are.” He helps you raise yourself on your knees so you’re hovering over his lap. Letting go of your wrists, he drags his thumb against your clothed cunt; The fabric has a darkened splotch along your opening, teasing him with evidence of your lust. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re soaked…” He nudges your panties to the side, slipping his fingers against your wet opening. “Gonna ruin these pretty little panties, hm?” You nod wordlessly, hips desperately pushing against his touch.
He gently slides against your dripping entrance, making a mess of your cunt with teasing circling motions. Wet, decadent sounds fill the limited space between you as his fingers prod ever so slightly against the spot where you need him most.  A helpless sound is pushed out of you when he finally eases two fingers inside of you.
“Is that good, bunny?” He coos as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. It’s only his fingers, but he’s already filling you up so deliciously. His dark eyes are hungrily locked on how he fills you up over and over again, slick dripping down his knuckles and over his palm. “Hm?” 
You nod again, brain foggy with pleasure. “Yes, J–” You can barely get a word out when he curls his fingers up, pressing so sweetly and deep against the sensitive walls of your cunt. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his wrist, it feels so good. “Uh–!” You almost fall over and have to hold onto his shoulders for support as he begins to speed up. 
“That’s it, baby…” Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he rapidly presses against your g-spot. You’re already hurdling towards the edge and he can feel it with how you start to clench around his fingers. “Make a mess of my hand..” Within a handful of thrusts, you’re gasping out with pleasure, your thighs shaking over him. He takes his hand away and holds you against him to keep you sitting upright as your body is overtaken with euphoria. You pant against his shoulder, trying to gather your senses. 
You can feel him under you, hard and wanting, throbbing as you whimper and arch against him, letting the pleasure work through your body. Even when you’re barely coming down from an orgasm, you’re still longing to be filled with something more. But he ignores his own needs, instead focusing on you, softly pecking the top of your head and rubbing comforting circles against your arms. 
You lift your head from his chest to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. Jake stares right back, unabashedly, in awe. “You’re so good to me, bunny.” You shiver at the praise. At the comfort. You shyly divert your eyes to stare at the marks you’ve left on his shoulders. 
“Only for you, Jake.” You don’t see it, but his lips lift into a small smile at your words. 
His hands drift down from your arms to hold you by the waist. “Only for me.” He echos, solidifying the statement. 
You gasp when he suddenly presses you down against his cock. Looking back up at him, he meets your wide eyes with a mischievous grin, hips rolling teasingly against yours. “And I’m all yours.” You position yourself over him all while keeping eye contact, wanting to drink in every microexpression on his face. 
“Yes.” You both sigh as he barely brushes against your wet opening. He takes a deep breath, clutching your hips as you begin your descent.
Your body slowly manages to swallow the first inch of him. And – oh – it’s so much better than you expected. He stretches you so fully, even barely inside of you, filling you exactly how you need him to. 
You let out a strained whimper from the back of your throat as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap. You whine as your body desperately clenches and stretches to accommodate him inside of you. His hold on your hips tightens as your thighs meet his, now fully impaled by his hard cock.  
“I thought it was ‘just the tip’.” Jake tries to tease, his deep voice gravelly with lust, but it comes out as more of a groan than a taunt.
You slowly shake your head, body trembling as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 
“You said you’re all mine, daddy.” The words practically melt from your lips, lethargic with heat. It catches him off guard. You moan, hips slowly moving over him to feel him deeper inside. “M-mine,” You repeat with a pant, so lost in desperation that you don’t even notice the way he’s looking at you, frozen in place. 
“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” He doesn’t know what else to say, brain overheating from your ministrations. You’ve never called him a pet name before, let alone used the word ‘daddy’ anywhere near him. You’ve always been a shy little bunny around him, always preciously out of reach, a tease to fantasize about, but now you’re wrapped around him, moaning beautifully destructive words. 
What really surprises him is the way he’s eagerly throbbing inside of you from that word. Desperate thoughts float in his mind: She wants me to take care of her, she needs me.
“Fuck me.” He groans to himself, willing his body to hold back from cumming inside of you right then and there. 
“P-please.” You beg with a broken voice, thinking he’s talking to you. Jake just nods understandingly and holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your torso, wanting to feel your whole body against his. He starts off slow, pressing up into your kneeling body with measured thrusts as he dots kisses along your neck and shoulders. You sigh something wistful before meeting his movements, eagerly lifting your hips against him. 
“God, bunny, you feel so good.” He can't help it, you’re all-encompassing like this, with your pretty little sighs and panted breaths, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, so he starts to speed up, projecting his desperation into his actions. Your back arches at the change of pace as he pumps into you, and it only makes him feel deeper. “So tight around me.” He pushes against your front wall on every thrust and you swear it makes you see stars. 
Your clit inevitably rubs against him as your bodies move with each other and it takes your pleasure to another level. You’re sure the sounds you’re making verge on embarrassing, but he seems to eat them up anyway. “Ah, right there--! Jake –”
“No, bunny,” He grits out, “It’s daddy.”
You whimper, “Daddy – ” He feels you flutter deliciously around him as your head begins to lull backward. He groans as your cunt sucks him deep inside, desperately milking his cock as you’re seized by ecstasy.
“Fucking take it, sweetheart.” 
“I-I think m’gonna…” Your eyes roll back before you can finish your sentence and white fills your vision. You let out a keening sound as you gush over him, thighs clenched around his as your second high moves through you. 
His eyes squeeze shut as he gives in and starts fucking you at a punishing pace. Your mouth drops open around an empty moan. You can only hold onto him as he takes what he wants from your body, intensifying your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. With a few more upward pushes, he lets out a breathy grunt and finishes inside of you, painting your walls with his warmth. 
You both stay in this position for a little longer. 
You can feel Jake’s heart beat rapidly against your chest as you cuddle against him. He’s still recovering from the onslaught of sensations and emotions. Both of you are sticky with sweat and slick, but neither of you care. His cock is still inside of you, keeping his cum locked inside as you dutifully warm him with your cunt. 
“Such a pretty girl…” He croons, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with such sincerity in his eyes, that it’s almost overwhelming. You bite your lip nervously at the compliment and attempt to look away, but before you can, he’s tilting your face up with the light touch of a finger, “Really? You’re gonna act all shy with my cock still in you?”
His words only make you squirm on top of him. He nearly chokes at the accidental stimulation. 
“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Your voice is small and cute.
“Then how am I supposed to fluster my girl?” 
Your eyes widen. His girl? 
“Your girl?”
“My girl.” He hums with a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips.
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satorusdiary · 10 months
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hot rich dilf + babysitter reader
dilf! toji fushiguro x reader Mafia AU
age gap (reader is 21, toji is 39) + smut & fluff + reader is in college + toji is a rich man who lives a dangerous life
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toji fushiguro.
the biggest mafia boss around Japan, a single dad, with one kid. he is also living in one of the most beautiful houses in Japan. the richest neighborhoods around on the hills, where no one is able to see it well.
whenever you would hear, see, or look at that name wherever you are in the city all you think about is hot, rich dilf.
it’s wrong to think of that, especially when you were the babysitter for his son. yet, toji couldn’t risk the dangers of his son being taken cared of in a public daycare; where anyone can take him and possibly use him as ransom.
that’s why he has you, his personal baby sitter. the young, beautiful woman who is still in college, taking care of his child. something his ex whore of a wife couldn’t do.
whenever you get a text whilst taking classes, your heart skips a beat and your thighs clench together at who the message is from.
Toji sent 1:23 pm
Hey, y/n. I’m sorry for the sudden message, is it alright if you babysit megumi around 4? I have important things to take care of at work.
he is a dangerous man, yet you would never back down taking care of his child. you are putting yourself in major risks, but whenever you would see toji’s frame holding megumi on his hip you think differently.
megumi is a different story, he is a splitting image of his father besides the scars. he’s a sweet boy, kind and respectful to you, and would constantly always want you over to his fathers house.
you enjoy his company, him and his father.
You sent 1:25 pm
of course, not a problem! my classes are ending so i’ll be able to be there by the time you’re about to leave.
Toji sent 1:25 pm
Great, thank you so much. I will double your payment for being able to take care of Megumi during a school day. Thank you again.
not to mention, how good the payment is! by the end of the day you are able to pay 3 months worth of rent for your apartment. there is never a time where you never have left over money for yourself.
you always think it’s a mistake by how much he pays you, how delusional you were missing all the signs he has given you.
the amount of times he would wink at you, with that sexy smirk on his scarred lips. the way he would love you out the way with a hand on your waist, carefully pushing you to the side.
and the way he gives you cheek kisses, saying it’s a friendly greeting towards everyone when he knows damn well he doesn’t kiss anyone’s cheek besides yours and megumis.
his hopes continue, his hopes in you falling for him continue to increase.
toji will always protect you, and megumi. even if you are just a baby sitter, to him you were more than that.
he appreciates the time you put in for his son, and for him. and he appreciates how you always manage to come to his house earlier than expected just to take care of megumi.
toji approaches you with a tight black suit, one that hugs his muscular frame insanely well. your thighs rub against each other without you noticing.
something that wants your heart is when he hold megumis hand, whilst approaching you. it’s cute and wholesome.
“megs, you be good for y/n okay? i’ll be back in a bit.” toji kisses megumis forehead, letting go of his hand before making his way towards you with a small, but seductive grin.
like always, he kisses your cheek before saying a word to you. your stomach has butterflies fluttering around, he continues to sweet talk you.
it’s funny, how could such a dangerous man who does unthinkable things everyday warm your heart in such a way?
“thank you so much, again y/n. here is the money, please be safe and help yourself around the house.” his green eyes pierce through your e/c eyes. his hands giving you a stack of money, more than usual.
your eyes widened, it’s too much. it’s almost as if you depend on him too much with the amount of money he gives you for what, just a few hours of you taking care of megumi?
"mr fushiguro, i cannot accept this. why are you handing me so much?" you questioned, looking up at his tall frame.
he shakes his head and chuckles, pushing your hand that was holding the money closer to your chest.
"its for you, and your hard work. don't question it, you deserve it sweetheart." the pet name slips out, but he has no shame in calling you that. you are his sweetheart after all.
before you could say anything else, he continues on. and continues to make you flustered with his words, and expressions.
"oh, and y/n dear, call me toji. no need to be so formal when you have done so much for me, and my son." he caresses your cheek before brushing past you, grabbing his hat and work jacket from the coat hanger.
"..thank you, so much toji! i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me sir." you smile up at him, waving him goodbye before he is out the door.
"not a problem, dear. you both take care, be back inna bit." he closes the door. the smile on your face hasn't left, and the fast speed of your hear beating increases as you lock the door with its additional locks.
you snap out of your joyful thoughts when megumi embraces you with his small, slightly chubby arms. they close around your waist as he looks up from your stomach with a heart warming smile.
"why cant you just get with my dad, y/n? he likes you soo much, and you treat us so well." he frowns, eyes glossy and filled with adortion.
your heart weeps, his stare makes you double think everything. what if you did get with toji?
"megs.. i don't think he likes me like that sweetheart. and its okay! its okay just being your baby sitter." you pick him up, placing him on your hip while you walk towards his play area. it was clean, free of toys scattered everywhere in the room.
"you're so wrong! i know he likes you a lot. he kisses your cheek, and forehead like me! that means he loves you." the word that holds so much power, and strength over anyone slips from his lips. yet he doesn't try to apologize and make it out as a mistake.
"not only that, but you are like a mommy to me. better than the other one, don't leave tonight. please y/n!" he cries out, hugging you as tight as he can.
you look down at him, sitting on the bed with a sad expression. you never knew how much megumi had actually cared for you. and it amazed you how good he was able to speak as a 4 year old.
"megumi,' you start off, watching as he looks up at you with teary eyes.
"i'll see if i could stay tonight, but just for tonight!" you tell him, his lips automatically curl into a big smile, before he kisses you on the cheeks. the same way his father does.
"yay! thanks y/n. now can we play, please?" he slips out of your embrace and begins pulling out toys from his drawer, handing you a big car which you take from his small hands.
"sure, megumi. if you want, ill take you to the park after?" you question and get on your knees, getting down to his level so you would be able to play properly.
he nods his head repeatedly, you wonder if his cheeks every get tired from smiling so much.
"yes! thank you y/n, you're the best!"
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the day goes by fast, now you are sitting on megumi's bed, tucking him in before he goes to sleep.
"y-you're gonna stay tonight, right y/n?" the little boy questions, turning to look at you. the only source of light was the hallway lights, through the opened door.
you stay silent for a few seconds, giving him a hopeful smile that would make him feel better.
"i'll see, i still have to check in with your dad." you replied. deep down you knew you wouldn't stay over, especially when you knew it would be pretty weird to stay over at your bosses house, just for his kid over night.
you would just have to make up a lie by tomorrow, apologizing to the younger boy on why you couldn't stay over.
i'll say i had classes! yeah that is a good excuse. you thought to yourself.
"okay.. goodnight y/n." megumi utters, smiling before he closes his eyes and drifts off the sleep.
you stay in the same position, watching him peacefully drift off with his hand loosely around yours. after a few minutes, you knew you had to go home.
"bye megs.." you whisper, kissing his head before standing up from his bed, walking towards the outside of his bedroom.
you sighed and began walking down the hallway, towards the exit of the home.
“you’re not gonna stay the night?” a voice startles you, making your turn around with a hand over your heart.
“toji-san! w-when did you get home?” you nervously laughed, and breathed in heavily as he walked towards you.
your heart jumps to your throat as he looks down at you, the tension was high.
his hand reaches your shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over it seductively. a smirk appearing on his features, that stupid sexy smirk that makes your pussy heat up.
“don’t mind that darling. as i said, you’re not gonna stay the night? thought you wanted to be with megs?” the smirk turns into a small frown, making you rethink on why you were going to leave in the first place.
“‘m sorry.. i-i just didn’t think you would be comfortable with it.” you admitted, looking up at him with guilty eyes.
your hand clutches your tote bag, the both of you stay in silence before he speaks up. a kiss being left on your forehead, it drowns out the guilty feeling and lights up your features.
“it’s fine sweets. y’want to talk for a bit and have dinner together? i don’t mind you staying over, megumi has a strong liking for you.” he waits for a response.
it’s almost embarrassing to you how fast you nodded your head, yet toji chuckles at how dedicated you were towards the offer.
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you did not go home that night, as expected. but what happened was something you never thought would happen at all.
you thought you would be in your own bedroom, but here you were. face flat onto toji’s pillows, and him behind you groping your body in many ways. his cock drilling inside your plush, tight pussy.
“you’re so beautiful, my love.” his words continue to make you cry, both ways. he flips you over so his hand would be able to wrap around your breast, and the other caressing your head as you take all of him inside of you.
“daddy— ‘s so good!” you cry out, mind getting foggy as you look at him with the most love and adoration expression he could ever make out. his heart melts.
he shuts you up with a kiss, tongues clashing together as his hands roam around your love handles, squeezing and slapping them.
you moan into the kiss, it’s muffled but he was able to hear it clearly. the sound was music to his ears, making him slam into you rougher and deeper, his cock abusing your g-spot.
you were just too beautiful, too pure for him. he couldn’t resist you. the day he met you in a coffee shop he knew he wanted you, and you would become his.
“shh, baby. can’t forget gumi is sleeping, hm?” he hums, pulling away from your pouty, swollen lips.
“sorry.. ‘jus feels too good. love your cock s’ much tojii.” you moan once again. your hand interlaces with his bigger hands, pinning you down on his large bed.
“i know, sweet girl. you almost needa cum?” he coo’s into your ear, large, muscular hand going down onto your stomach. your womb filled with toji’s hot seed.
you whine, nodding repeatedly and look up at him with desperate eyes. sobs leave your mouth, the bubbly feeling in your stomach begging to be released.
“please! need t’ cum, lemme cum daddy.. please!” you beg over and over, it’s adorable to him. the way you’re so desperate for him, and his cock. even if it’s bullying your insides.
arousal floods into your insides, the way toji lowly groans on top of you makes you see the stars.
“cum with me, my dear.” he moans out, hands gripping at your waist as he continues to slams you down on his veiny, hard, big cock.
just like that, you realease all over him. you hadn’t even notice you squirted. the feeling of toji filling you to the brim once again made your eyes foggy, filled with tears. thankfully toji was there to wipe away any tears left.
hot cum continues to spurt into your pussy, the feeling of your walls clenching over his cock so well makes toji’s feelings for you grow stronger.
“my beautiful, princess.” he whispers through heavy breathes. your heart beating even faster as his hands cup your jaw, pulling you into another heated kiss.
“starting now, you’re mine. my little girl.”
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valeskafics · 3 months
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"Sweet & Vicious" - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Tribute!Reader
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Summary: Coriolanus learns that there's more to you, the sweet little tribute from District 1, than meets the eye.
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, mentions of previous sexual assault, canon-typical murder/violence (reader is a tribute), oral m receiving, tiddy succin, p in v sex, creampie, lowkey breeding kink lmao
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Coryo knows that Gaul is setting him up to fail when she assigns him to be your mentor. You’re from District 1 and apparently you’re a career, but truth be told? He doesn’t see it. He observes you, chatting with the other tributes, a friendly smile on your face. You’re bubbly and outgoing, but you look harmless. Like you wouldn’t be able to harm a fly. How’s he going to win the Plinth Scholarship with you as his tribute? He presses his lips together in a thin line, his mind working double time to try and figure out what his angle is here. How is he going to do this?
You have an interesting way about you, he muses. You flirt with every single male tribute in the room, batting those lashes of yours, smiling up at them so demurely. Coryo can’t help but feel the slightest hint of envy when one rests a hand on your bare waist, helping fix your position as you practice knife throwing - something you fail at miserably. Shit. But, you have each of the boys there eating out of the palm of your hand. And there’s something sharp in your gaze. You stand off to the side, and to anyone else  it would look like you’re being lazy. But Coryo knows what you’re doing.
You’re studying the others. Searching for weaknesses. It’s what he would do.
You move with an almost serpentine grace, weaving your way through the room, taking note of everything happening around you. At first glance, you seem like a ditzy flirt. But Coryo sees past that now. He sees you, scrutinizing and evaluating. There’s more to you than meets the eye. You flirt your way through the room, dazzling everyone with your sweet demeanor, your pretty face. You endear yourself to them so that they will feel bad about killing you when the time comes. So that they hesitate. But there’s so much more to you than that.
It’s time to break for lunch and one by one, the tributes file out of the training room. Save for you and the girls from 2, 3, and 4. Coryo raises a brow as they approach you, the girl from 1 having a knife in hand. Before he can even yell to warn you, you turn, grabbing her by the wrist, a smile a little too sharp to be genuine on your face.
“That’s cheating, Rachel,” you say, your voice sickeningly sweet, “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to try to kill me until we’re in the Arena? Not very nice.”
He watches as you quickly dispatch them, tackling Rachel to the ground, sweeping the girl from 3’s feet out from beneath her as you do before lunging on top of the girl from 4. All three of them groan in pain, holding their stomachs, while you make your way toward Coryo, that same innocent little smile on your face. He watches you with admiration as you approach him, already feeling proud to be your mentor.
“You’re my mentor. Coriolanus Snow, right?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, a coy little grin on your face as you introduce yourself.
He nods, taking your hand to shake it, a small smile on his face. You’re not asking that question out of curiosity. You already knew. He can tell. You’re trying to figure out how to manipulate him into wanting to help you.
Little do you know it’ll require no manipulation at all.
“General Snow was your father, right?” You ask, gazing up at him through your lashes, fluttering them slightly.
Of course you know that, you little minx. He’s sure you’ve done plenty of research.
Coryo nods, gaze moving along your form, the training gear you wear hugging the curves of your body in an enticing way, “Correct. And you?”
“Oh, my family?” You giggle, covering your mouth in an almost dainty way, “Nothing special. We’re just a basic District 1 family. No one too important. Not like you or the Plinths.”
He knows that’s a flirtation attempt. That you’re buttering him up. From where he stands, he can smell your perfume, the way it mixes with your natural scent. It’s almost intoxicating. He takes another step closer to you.
“Shouldn’t you join the others for lunch?”
“I’d rather have lunch with my mentor,” you say, batting your lashes, “Is that allowed, sir?”
A smirk plays at the corner of his lips and he nods, leading you out of the training room, “It is. You know, I do enjoy a bit of respect, but maybe you’d like to call me something a bit more personal.”
“Such as?”
He chuckles, a hand resting on your lower back as he leans in to whisper, “Well, how about my first name? Coriolanus. Do you feel comfortable calling me that?”
“Coriolanus,” you repeat, the word sounding like honey dripping off your tongue to him before you glance up with a tiny little pout, “It’s a pretty name, but it’s so long. Can I just call you Coryo?”
He nods, “Yes. Coryo will be just fine.”
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Over the next few days, he grows closer and closer to you, his little mentee. You’re always eager to learn whatever he has to teach you, and you have no issue endearing yourself to the viewers. The two of you make quite the team, he thinks. It doesn’t hurt that you’re fucking adorable. You walk in to train with him, a smile playing on your lips.
“What are you going to mentor little old me in today, Coryo?”
He eyes you up and down, unable to help feeling a bit smitten by you and your innocent demeanor even though he knows it’s all a facade; Coryo takes a moment to clear his throat, holding back the inappropriate noise threatening to come from his mouth before informing you, “Well, we’re going to be practicing some hand to hand combat today. You do know how to fight, right?”
You look up at him, shaking your head as you keep up your act, innocent as ever, “Who, me? Gosh, I’d never wanna hurt anyone…”
“So you beating the crap out of those three girls yesterday was what then?” He counters, giving you a wry smile.
“Aw, we were just playing, Coryo! Just girly things.”
He shakes his head at you affectionately, watching as you bite your lip, “Yeah, I bet you girls get really brutal when you ‘play’, huh?”
“Well, I prefer playing with boys,” you hum, “They’re much sweeter to me.”
And again he feels it. That gnawing sensation in his gut. The jealousy when he thinks of the fact that you’ve got every one of these boys wrapped around your pretty little finger, himself included.
“So I’m going to have to be competing with all the other boys for your attention then?”
He can’t help but smile at your reply, “You are my mentor, Coryo. There’s no competition. I think you know why I flirt with them.”
Coryo nods, “You’re making them think twice before they kill you. The little sweetheart who makes them fall in love.” He chuckles, “Pretty naughty of you.”
You shrug, “If I wanna survive the games, it’s what I gotta do. I mean, I could beat them in hand to hand. But why do it if I don’t have to? Work smarter, not harder.”
“You’re quite the manipulative little girl, aren’t you?” Coryo teases, growing more and more impressed - and infatuated - with you every passing minute.
“I’m eighteen, not so little. We’re the same age,” you tease back, your voice a playful lilt, “But if you want me to be your little girl, I don’t mind.”
Coryo’s throat goes dry, his voice a low rasp as he leans in even closer, feeling your sweet breath tickle his face, “So you want me to treat you like my little girl then?” You nod, lashes fluttering as he stares at you, those doe eyes and that sweet smile, “And how would my little girl like to be treated?”
“Any way Daddy wants to.”
He feels his pants growing uncomfortably tight. That submissive gaze of yours, the sense of possession over you nearly overwhelming him. He needs to protect you, keep you away from the dangers of the world. It’s not a want at this point. It’s a need. And he’s going to make damn sure his pretty little girl survives these games. That she wins. So, the two of you begin training in earnest. And he’s pleasantly surprised by your complete change in attitude, how seriously you take everything he tells you, adjusting your aim, your stance, listening to his tips on how to make the audience like you. You’re really quite intelligent and talented, and the fact that you’re not just using this time to flirt or distract him. It makes him, dare he say it, respect you.
When he asks why you volunteered for the Games, however, your expression grows dark, and he feels as if he’s about to unlock another side of you, “Ben from D1. My fellow tribute. I want to kill him.”
He can sense the anger and hatred you harbor for your fellow tribute, and is almost caught off guard by the bluntness and raw honesty of your answer. But as you explain your reasons, your need for revenge after what he did to you back home, he comes to understand. You tell him you knew you were going to volunteer the moment he was reaped. That it was God or whatever higher power exists giving you a chance for revenge. And when you tell him just what he did to you, he feels the rage inside him building toward Ben too.
“He told everyone at school I begged him for it, when really, I was begging him to stop. To let me go. I want him underneath me in the Arena. I want to hear him beg for his life. And to watch the light leave his eyes when I refuse to listen.”
Coryo wants nothing more than to take away your pain, but he realizes, only you can do that for yourself. He doesn’t think he’s ever been as attracted to another person as he is to you in this moment, both physically and emotionally. And at the drop of a hat, you’re back to your sunny personality, taking him by the hand and declaring that it’s time for dinner, that you’re starving and need to grab something to eat.
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He watches you with amazement when the Games begin, the way you manage to outthink and outmaneuver every one of your fellow tributes. The girls you’d bested back on that first day try to rush you, but one by one, you finish them off. This vicious, bloodthirsty side of you is yet another layer of your personality he’s seen. He can’t take his eyes off of you, completely enamored. He watches, amused, at the way you cling to some of the male tributes, convincing them you need their help, only to dispatch them the moment they’re no longer useful to you.
Ruthless. Beautiful. Dangerous.
In the end, it’s down to just you and Ben from District 1. The reason you volunteered in the first place. Coryo watches in terror as Ben manages to stab you in the side, but you keep him pinned to the ground, your teeth gnashing as you ignore what must be excruciating pain.
“Fucking beg me for your life! Do it! Beg me like I begged you, coward!” You snarl, pulling the blade from your side, blood seeping from your wound.
Coryo watches, seeing the intensity, the brutality behind your eyes. Ben tries to punch your stab wound, and you wince from the pain, but then? You let out a laugh. It’s a pretty laugh, musical even, but absolutely terrifying.
“Oh, Ben, it’s gonna take a lot more than that.” You stab the blade he used on you, deep into his chest, “This is in your aorta. I can leave it in and you try to finish me off if you can, and hope the healers get to you in time. That’s if you beg me. But if you don’t? I pull it out and bleed you like the fucking pig you are.”
And he does. He begs, tears falling from his eyes as he pleads for his life. For the chance to fight you again, to win the Games. But you just smirk down at him, leaning in as you rest a hand on his cheek.
“When I begged you to stop, you didn’t. So why should I?”
You pull out the knife, letting him bleed out onto the grass below, winning the Games. Coryo watches you, awestruck. You’ve gotten your revenge. This brutal, sadistic side of you - he doesn’t understand why but it’s so completely alluring. 
Soon enough, as the victor, you’re rushed away to have your wounds treated, particularly the nasty stab wound Ben left you with. When you awake, Coryo makes sure he’s at your side, sitting by your bed as your eyes open wearily and you question if you won, voice hoarse from disuse.
He nods, lifting your head gently so that you can drink from the cup of water on the table beside you, “Yes. You won. You were incredible. Brutal and ruthless and,” he murmurs, “So beautiful.”
You feign shyness - or is it truly feigned, he wonders - looking away from him as you bite your lip, “O-oh, you thought it was beautiful?”
He nods, “You were… Amazing.”
Your lips meet his in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth as he caresses your cheeks. Coryo tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. You moan softly against his lips, every small gesture of submission to him, of deference to him turning him on, bringing out a wild, almost animalistic side to the man. However, when he sees the way you wince slightly as he trails his hand along your waist, he pauses, looking at you with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a little sore,” you tell him, moving to touch his cheek with your hand, fingertips tracing his jaw, “I don’t mind a little pain with my pleasure, Coryo.”
Your words break something in Coryo, a dam that held the semblance of resistance he held on to. His hands move to your hips, squeezing your soft flesh as he moans against your mouth, tugging off the flimsy gown you wear. Your body has been repaired, every scar, every blemish removed as is the case with every victor. He stares at you in wonder, his hands moving to cup your breasts, squeezing gently. You gaze up at him, lips parted in a silent plea for him to continue touching you as you grind yourself against his cock, achingly hard against his pants. He moves to take one of your tits in his mouth, latching onto one of your nipples, icy blue eyes boring into yours as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub. Every cry of “Coryo”, “Daddy”, “please - they all make him smirk against you as his fingers move to tease your tight, wet pussy, wanting to get you ready to take him. You are so fucking perfect for him. You were made for him. Made to be his.
He pulls away for a moment, loving the way you whine at the loss of contact, only to lock the door and make quick work of his own clothes, leaving both of you entirely bare before each other. Coryo has never felt so desired, so wanted as he does when you move to mouth at his cock, your soft hands cupping his balls, massaging them as you gaze up at him through your lashes with those gorgeous eyes. He gently pushes you back, shaking his head.
“Let Daddy take care of his little girl right now.”
You feel so perfect as he pushes inside you, your tight cunt squeezing around him like a vice. Your teeth sink into your plump lower lip, but he shakes his head, almost scolding you.
“That’s my lip to bite, baby.”
You whimper softly as his lips devour yours in another kiss, his hips slotting against yours at a brutal, relentless pace. He knows now that you were meant for him. Meant to be his sweet little girl. He’s going to make you fully and completely his. After your victory tour, he’s going to make you his pretty little wife. Keep you at home, by his side. All sweet and pretty, his perfect little doll. Pump you full of his cum, breed you like the good little girl you’re meant to be. And he knows you won’t have a problem with it. He knows every part of you, he muses as your fingers knot themselves in his golden curls, your hips bucking up to meet his movements. He knows your sweet side. Your vicious side. Your brutality and your vulnerability. And it’s all going to be his.
“Daddy, I’m close,” you whisper breathily in his ear, his lips moving to your throat as his teeth graze against your skin, “Cum inside me. Fill me up, Daddy.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice, his stomach tightening, body going rigid as he feels you squeeze around him, your pussy soaking his cock as you reach your peak, spilling himself inside you moments later. He stays like that for a moment, just staring into your eyes with a small smile on his face, one that you return.
In that moment, there’s no mask. No pretense between the two of you. He sees the real you and you see the real him.
And Coryo knows, with everything he has, that the two of you are going to change the world. The two of you are going to become the very future of Panem.
You, his perfect little girl, his sweetheart, his everything, every part of you now being his.
Sweet and vicious.
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koolades-world · 3 months
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Hey! I love your work. Can you do the demon brothers with an mc that goes quiet when they're talked over? Also, I hope exams went well!
hi!! thank you for the wait! also, thank you for the well wishes! I did pretty good :3
I will absolutely write this for you! enjoy!!
Mc that goes quiet when talked over
Lucifer
he's very quick to notice you've gone silent, considering he's always paying attention to you
will silence who ever spoke over you, on purpose or not, and make sure you continue what you were saying
if you look dejected or upset in any way, they will have to apologize to you, especially if it was one of his brothers
after all, everything you say is precious to him <33
Mammon
gonna be honest, it might have been him that spoke over you...
not on purpose of course, even if it's just a one on one conversation
once he realizes, he pauses mid sentence and asks you to repeat what you said
he shyly apologizes and carefully listens to you until it inevitably happens again
Levi
not one to say anything in the moment but will feel guilty about not doing anything
if you don't manage to get out what you were trying to say during that conversation, he tries his best to remember to ask about what you wanted to say later because he knows what that feels like
if you do, he will apologize later for not helping you out
either way, it ends in kisses and a levi puddle
Satan
ever the gentleman, he looks at you first to see how you're feeling, and if you want to continue
if you do, he'll make room for you in the conversation
if you don't, he will find a way to bring up the topic again so you can continue what you wanted to say naturally
and if you're near each other, he'll hold your hand to show you he cares
Asmo
def the "they asked for no pickles" type man
WILL interrupt the interrupter to ensure you get your words in while being semi polite and semi passive agressive
also will make the interrupter listen carefully to what you said
and if they don't! he's kicking them out of the conversation because he won't tolerate that kind of behavior
Beel
he's the mvp who turns to you and asks you to continue what you were saying despite the main conversation
he keeps his full attention on you and tries to engage to show he's listening
if it's pertinent to the main conversation, he waits for an opening to announce that you have something to say
he makes sure everyone listens to you like the sweetheart he is
Belphie
he's another one that will so interrupt the interrupter but in a much less friendly cute way than Asmo
he will straight tell them to shut up
his brothers will usually be huffy but comply, but if it's not one of them, he will make them listen
anyone who doesn't listen will be seeing him later in their nightmares
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propertyofwicked · 7 days
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SECRETS - LN
lando x fewtrell!reader (cos who doesn't love a bit of brother's best friend?). no content warnings for this part. pls lemme know what u think of this pls and thank u.
SERIES - part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4
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y/n was a bit of an enigma in the fewtrell family. yes, she’d grown up karting with her older brother and his best friend, but it wasn’t a career for her. not like it was for max, who took his love of karting to championships and content creation and especially not like lando, who made it all the way to F1.
no, y/n fewtrell wanted a career, for now at least anyway. which leads us to now, she’s sat in a second year lecture, not listening to a single word as a slew of messages from her brother almost vibrate her phone off the desk.
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she didn’t really need to think about it at all, of course she’d be there. whilst she had no interest in her actually involvement, she loved motor sports, and loved supporting lando. the amount of times she’d been recognised in her uni towns sports bar, watching the F1, was getting concerning. not to mention the time she’d finished a 10 hour shift and somehow fell asleep in said sports bar, made worse and more recognisable to lando fans by the quadrant hoodie and LN4 beanie - max had not let her live it down since the moment the photo came on his twitter feed. it just seemed odd that lando all of a sudden wanted, no, needed her presence - after all, he'd had minimal contact with her for almost a year.
but, she weighed up in her head, getting to see lando was somewhat of a reward. yes spending the day with her brother would be good, although she could sense her summer would potentially be spent with him anyway. but lando, what could she say about lando. he was always around growing up, and yes admittedly there had been a few moments shared in her early adulthood that would indicate something more but it always remained unspoken. lingering touches here and there, the night they spent dancing together in a club, though written off as drunk friendliness, and most notably an interrupted moment where he whispered “max would kill me if he knew the truth”. y/n never got to find out what the truth was, as max himself came barrelling into the room, equally as drunk as everyone else at the gathering. from that night on, she barely saw or heard from lando, well, until now supposedly.
ultimately, y/n decided that dwelling on what could’ve been, whilst lando jets off around the world, was simply not worth it. she focused on her studies, and began declining offers to watch lando race on the other side of the world. y/n fewtrell was a strong independent woman who did not need the validation from her brothers best friend.
didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it.
as predicted, the academic year ended and y/n found herself moving a bag of clothes into max’s spare room. people started spotting her in the background of streams again, fans excited to see the fewtrell’s back together and in full force - y/n now adorning a lovely bruise down the side of her arm from where max had shoved her too hard off a chair and onto the floor. sore losers run in the family.
“MAX! that hurt,” y/n whined from her new found position on the floor.
“oh did it,” max asks mockingly, “sucks to be you i guess” he adds with a shrug, although letting her use his arm to pull herself back up.
he moved back to playing his game when a text popped up on her phone making her giggle.
“what? what are you laughing at?”
“lando said “push him back”. lando,” y/n said, looking at the camera, “if i could, i would - but i quite like having somewhere to live and my own personal chauffeur,” she laughed, max laughing with her.
a month later she was in the passenger seat of max’s car, him pulling in to park outside the silverstone track. it was hours before the public would show up, so she instantly spotted the curly haired man. yes, the bright orange jumper was like a bat signal for lando, but y/n’s eyes were immediately drawn to him naturally. max had just about pulled the handbrake on when lando bounded over to the car, pulled the passenger door open and lunged himself around y/n.
“you came! it’s been too long since ive had my little lucky charm in my garage,” he says, looking directly into her eyes. a red flush runs up her cheeks, hoping that the boys will put it down to the loss of air conditioning. any awkwardness she had anticipated between the two dissolved almost instantly.
“i know, i’m sorry. i should just drop out of uni and follow you around the world, i know. forgive me,” she jokes holding her hands up, and lando quirks an eyebrow up, as if saying “you should”.
“don’t do that, y/n. one of the fewtrell’s needs to be properly educated,” max jokes, ”besides, not having his lucky charm around all the time keeps his ego in check.” lando chuckles in response, finally moving to stand fully out of the car and allowing y/n and max to climb out and join him.
“so, home race in 2 days - how you feelin’ mate?” max asked lando, raising his hand to do one of those bro hand grabs. they continued talking, y/n trailing just behind them as they walked into the building and around to the mclaren area. it was always a spectacle, coming to races. the teams, the drivers, the media, the celebrations - it was somewhat overwhelming. it was weird to see the place so empty, then again, it was 7am on FP1 day so the only people walking around were the odd driver and mechanics.
they continued to walk through the paddock, y/n just listening to the boys discussing an upcoming quadrant project, eventually reaching his drivers room. the sofa looked so inviting, especially to the girl who was dragged kicking and screaming out of bed at 5am. whilst lando distracted max, showing him his helmet for the home race, y/n crawled over to the sofa, curled up in a corner and shut her eyes.
“y/n? you good?” lando asked, after clocking her new found position.
“shut up.”
“ouch.”
“she threatened to rip my eyeballs out and shove them down my throat this morning when i tried to get her up. being told to shut up is nothing,” max laughed, ruffling the top of his sisters head and messing up her hair, “she just likes her sleep.”
“yes, she does, please let her have it,” y/n mumbles bluntly, met with chuckles from the boys.
“we’re gonna get breakfast. ill bring you back something if you want to stay here?” lando asks, her eyes perking up at the thought of food.
“yes please,” she says, with a soft smile directed towards him.
-
“next time, me and you are getting separate hotel rooms,” y/n groaned, rolling around the sofa of her hotel room trying to get comfortable.
“next time, tell me you want to come with me early enough for me to book you a separate hotel room, y/n,” her brother grumbled back.
“i’m gonna see if there’s a gym here. i need to tire myself out if i’m going to sleep on this…thing,” she said, poking at the solid leather of the sofa.
max didn’t respond to his sister, instead he rolled over to face the door and shut his eyes. y/n grabbed her key card and her shoes, and walked out the door, happy to be away from her brother. she loved him, she really did, but after spending the entire day in lando’s small driver room with him - she really just needed some brother-free air.
she barely reached the lift at the end of the hallway when she got a text, diverting her entire plans for that evening.
i’m bored. come on a drive with me?
going on a late night drive with lando was not out of the ordinary, but usually max was there. had he sent max the same message? either way, she responded with a quick yes and thumbs up.
cool. im outside btw. hurry up.
have you just turned up assuming i was going to say yes?
was i wrong?
shut up im coming down now
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joonipertree · 10 months
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Gang Leader Girlfriend Things™
Tags: Mikey x Fem!reader, Fluff, crack, no angst, he's only soft for you <3, love of his life
You know, I think the first rule of joining a gang should be 'don't piss off the leader'. Like, you wanna fight people who can whoop your ass? Go for it, that takes courage and respect. But you join a gang like Toman with 'Invincible Mikey' as the head, the one thing you should probably not do is make him mad.
(Nobody is stupid enough to do that though, much less Toman.)
Mikey personally didn't fight the weak, finds no joy in something that isn't a challenge. Two highschoolers that got recruited by Mitchy's crew? He could tell they were nothing from the back of their babbling heads.
"My god, there's no way a girl like that is here. She's so fucking hot."
"What's a girl even doing in a gang? There's no way she fights."
Mikey's eye twitched. Not only are you most definitely in Toman, with a gang jacket and everything (You had your own but you ended up wearing his most of the time, pretty in what's his.) One of Toman's strongest was Senju, someone who would kick their ass too.
"Do you think she's single?"
"She is not." Mikey drawled, eyes dead and head tilted. Draken came behind him, wondering why his captain was just standing there. Mikey was always friendly with new members but very evidently, those two were an exception.
"What a bummer. She could've been mine."
Draken wanted to laugh so badly but Mikey's hand was warning him into silence before he could.
Mikey couldn't see the dude's face but knew that he was too ugly for you. You weren't into pathetic fucks. And the only person Mikey was pathetic for, was you.
A lot of gang members' eyes were on them now, ready to bow to their captain but stopping when Draken raised his palm. They could tell something was off, looking at the two kids who just didn't bother turning. The aura around Mikey was practically tangible though, suffocating to anyone who took notice.
Yamagishi staggered towards his friends, ready to point out the very dangerous threat behind them. Of course, he was the one who recruited them. If he wasn't Takemitchy's friend, Mikey would've added him to his blacklist. Mikey's finger against his lip kept Yamagishi from saying anything. Their fates were sealed already.
"Man, I could probably take her boyfriend on. Easy win and I get her."
Draken choked, Yamagishi wanted to die, the few people who were close enough to listen stepped away. Mikey still didn't say anything, because the moment he was waiting for finally happened.
Chifuyu had let you know of the arrival with a nod of his head, pausing in his rant about a manga you guys had been reading. You saw Draken's head first, eyes lowering, knowing that Mikey would always fall close. And there he was, his blond ponytail the only thing you could see. Your heart filled up like it always did because fuck, you wanted to consume him in your love. His eyes peaked out and your smile stretched your cheeks.
You walked as if on auto pilot, feet having a pep in them as you did. He stepped out in full view and you squealed at his gentle eyes and outstretched arms. You practically ran to him, you missed him and missed him and missed him.
Your shoulder grazed someone's as you zoomed past and launched yourself into Manjiro's warm embrace. Strong arms encircled you immediately, his cheek squishing against yours. And before you knew it, your feet were off the ground as he twirled you around. Unabashed laughter left your lips, hanging onto him and letting his warm and wet kisses pepper your face. The swooping in your chest was welcomed, clinging to the boy you've loved for years. Your precious----
"Hi, Jiro~" You crooned, eyes open to catch his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.
He put your feet on the ground and pulled you close by the waist, noses touching each other's.
"Hi, baby." He said in a hushed voice.
You gave his cheek a peck, knowing one on the lips would result in him not getting off of you. There was supposed to be a meeting, so you decided to have him later. Being a gang leader's girlfriend was hard work.
"Did you have a good day?" You asked, knowing he woke up an hour ago, barely in the realm to text you a 'good morning, honey' ('Morning' in Mikey's realm was 1pm).
"Mhm." Mikey hummed, giving your cheek a kiss too. You relished in it.
"Where are you going?" Draken's voice came gruffly and you saw the tall man with his hands on two members' shoulders.
Your boyfriend's gaze fell on them, hardened and cold. It made you shiver, his arms tightening around you when you did. It didn't scare you, he looked hot but it never meant anything good.
You blinked at the two boys, confused and just now noticing the complete silence and the eyes of everyone on you.
I mean, you were a spectacle whenever Jiro was involved but weren't they used to it by now?
"You guys have really bad awareness if you didn't notice me even when I spoke up. I don't know if we want that in our gang." Mikey's words were sweet but dripping in venom, a grin to hide his clear rage.
"I'm so so sorry, boss! We didn't know she was yours, I swear!!" Dude no 1 got on his knees immediately, more so because his legs gave out.
"It's our first day, please have mercy." Dude no 2 shouted, bowing till his head met the floor.
Oh, you thought, they were actual idiots.
Seeing people bow and beg at your boyfriend was always surreal. You knew he had repertoire and respect because of years of being a gang leader. Personally, you never really understood gang things tm. But you knew your Mikey could kick ass and people looked up to him, so you always enjoyed the times he did gang leader things tm cuz it was hot.
"Yamagishi, you recruited them so you have responsibility. Have anything to add?" Mikey asked the frozen boy, who probably stopped breathing a long time ago.
"Uh, it was Takemitchy's idea?" The boy said, knowing who Mikey's kryptonite was.
"You're the one who asked me. Don't try to get me killed along with them!" The acting president hollered.
Mikey turned to his best friend, smile still plastered on his face. If Takemitchy didn't have the trauma to back up his biggest endeavour, he would be worried that the dark impulse would've possessed him from that interaction alone.
"Mitchy, normally I would let the head captain step in for any decision made about their division. But since they directly challenged me, we have to deal with it like all gangs do, right?"
"We didn't....we didn't know, promise!" Dude no 2 peeped out.
"Hmm, but wasn't it you who said that you could take her boyfriend on? It'd be an easy win? There's enough people who witnessed that."
"Oh, Lord Almighty." Takemitchy murmured, "nothing can save them now."
"Not even an hour in and they're going to die." Another murmur from the crowd. (It was Ran)
"I never said that, I am not a part of this." Dude no 1 threw his friend under the bus immediately. It was understandable.
"'She could've been mine,'" Mikey practically sang, taking off his jacket, "is what you said, right?"
"No I couldn't," you spoke absentmindedly, only looking at your boyfriend cuz you'd lost interest in the morons, "you're too ugly for me."
It was a blow that hit almost as hard as the kick they were about to receive. Mikey let out an affectionate snort as he covered your head with his jacket. The heavy material blocking your peripheral as he left your side within a second. A sick crack brandished the air, followed by two thuds.
"Welp, that fight didn't last. How boring, wanted to show off." Mikey sounded bored, the asphalt crunching under his slippers as he walked back.
"Are they--" Takemitchy's panicked pitch followed, a very common tone whenever Mikey was involved.
"Breathing." Draken called out, giving them a light kick on the side to check.
"Takemitchy, your crew is banned from recruiting." Their leader yelled back with his head only half turned, a flurry of 'yes sir!'s came.
"Thank you for holding onto my jacket, baby." Mikey whispered as he took the jacket off your head and draped it on his shoulders. His eyes were back to being kind and gentle, warm hand cupping your face in gratitude. You melted into him, eyes closing. He left a kiss on your forehead, keeping you close.
"Ah, I'm hungry," he whined, "let's go get mcdonald's. I didn't eat breakfast."
"You didn't?" You asked as he interwined your fingers together and tugged.
"I had cereal but that barely counts." Mikey started chattering on, waving a hand to dismiss the meeting that never began.
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idkfitememate · 4 months
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Pt. 1(You are here!), Pt. 2, Pt. 3
So, SAGAU right? Imposter ver specifically, right? Alllll of Teyvat has been ruled by some asshole who claims to be the creator, right?
Welp.
It’s time for you to get your ass isekai’d!
One problem though….
Instead of getting your phone, or having all the elements under your belt, or anything else…
You’re a boar.
Not like a “BiG tUsK sPeCiAl PaTtErN” boar.
Just a boar you can find in the starting areas of Mondstadt that just so happens to have golden blood.
Fun.
Hell, when you first woke up, you were confused on why you were short. And why you were in fours. And hairy. And why your mouth felt so damn heavy. And dragging yourself to a small pound, you figured out why.
Shaggy brown hair and small beady black eyes staring back at you. Large, off white tusks block your forward vision so you move to the side in order to see yourself better. Designs in a darker brown line your fur, a small tail flailing in the wind.
And that is how you spent your first few months in Genshin Impact.
A simple boar trying their damnest to not die.
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
Apparently spending time by yourself makes the human mind bored (pun intended).
So.
You decided to build a boar friendly base in the trees.
You noted that all mobs weren’t hostile to you, most likely due to your god status. That and Teyvat was willing to literally bend itself backwards in order to ensure your survival. Making sure only the freshest of fruits fell to your feet, ensuring that the waters were calm when you wanted to swim, and that the winds would gently blow you off, making your fur all fluffy, so on and so forth.
It was especially nice when a hunter had their sights set on you, only for a pack of hilichurl to appear and slaughter the man, the ground swallowing him up.
Now, the first few times it was fucking horrifying, but then you kinda realized you they didn’t do that, you’d be super dead right now, so you pushed an apple over in thanks and took all the headpats you could get from the group.
Anyway, back to the main topic.
You got bored (pun intended again) of living on the ground where anyone could find you and kill you, and that was no fun! So you found a nice mountain side (since you didn’t have a map, you couldn’t say right off the top of your head where you were but you knew full well it was by Dragonspine. Gods you were so cold… but I’d be worth it!-) with a nice forest next to it, and began building.
With the help of nearby mita and lawachurls and - of course - Teyvat itself, you carved into the side of the mountain, creating a cave system that only a being as short as you could traverse. Then, you connected them to a large treehouse system and continued to work on said treehouse system. Someone would have to be focusing damn hard and not fighting the actual army of churls and slimes and other beasts that made their way to stay beneath your home to actually see… well your home.
And up you went.
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
More months had passed, and confirmed many things for you.
A. The true “Imposter” had came here long before you.
B. They very weren’t a boar.
C. You did have a human form, but your “Creator” form had a boar as a symbolic animal.
Which, while initially was a little insulting, you came to (reluctantly) agree that, yeah. That was unfortunately pretty accurate.
You could be a bit sloppy at times, keeping a good appearance wasn’t at the absolute top of your list, as well as eating well… or drinking, but still!
You continued your now lavish boar life in the trees and caves, no longer bored (I’m not sorry for reusing this pun.).
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
You had been in Teyvat for… a year now? No one suspected a boar of being the true creator, everyone was still being treated like shit by the “creator” and you were still tucked away in your little forest/cave structure home.
You got a little curious, and well?
You found that you could - in fact - do something cool!
You could control the elements! Outside of Teyvat just doing things that were in your best interests. You could grow vines! And spit fire! And burp lightning and squeal hard and loud enough that it created a whirlwind!
You could part the seas like Moses!
Anyway-
You may have gotten a bit carried away, feeling secure in where you were. So you let the churls braid some parts of your fur, and paint it… and they gave you a mask.
And you’d chase seelies. And rest with slimes.
And just do a lot of shit that most boars definitely couldn’t, wouldn’t and didn’t do.
And unfortunately, one night when you were doing a fire dance with one of your favorite hilichurl camps. (They were the ones to kill that first hunter. They also gave you your first mask and paint job).
Completely enveloped in the current happenstance, while you breathed large balls of fire into the night that somehow didn’t injure a single being nor set a single tree alight…
You missed the boy who believed he was a wolf watching from the shadows.
…Oops?
I’m shocked people actually like this thingy lol. Part 2 is on the way! As a treat, I fixed up some typos and fixed some grammar mistakes!
Have a good day/night dears! <3 ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
P. S. Now I made a tag as well!
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