#playing with his hair until he stops hyperventilating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

every-aj-needs-an-angel · 9 months

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Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

#have i written chrissy as avril lavigne???#am i picturing eddie doing the girlfriend dance???#have i thought about little else all day???#can neither confirm nor deny #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steddie au #steddie #pre steddie #platonic stobin #platonic hellcheer #buckingham #pre buckingham #steve's pov #aj writes

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hon3y-y · 6 months

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ Satoru is your obsessive FWB

We don't gotta be in love, no I don't gotta be the one, no I just wanna be one of your girls tonight

Enjoy<3

Satoru is the type that even though it’s not official, he’s already cemented in his head you’re his. Don’t play with him and his delusions because he was with you in his mind before you even knew of him. Like, you guys just hooked up for the first time and he’s already internally gushing about what features your kids are gonna have. But even with his crazy ass fantasies, he still wants you to make a move.

He’s trying to act nonchalant, saying he don’t care who you fuck. But the truth? He is literally in his room hyperventilating on the phone with shoko and suguru because you didn’t answer him and he thinks you’re with someone else. (you’re sleeping)

He makes sure he fucks you good. Due to him being in constant fear of you finding someone better, he has to make sure there’s absolutely no one who could replace him. He’s the best pussy eater! He’s ready to eat it off the bone, spit dripping down his chin while he tightens his arms around your thighs so you can’t move, listening to all of your reactions so he can do better. Your eyes are rolling back, not knowing if you want him to continue or stop. It doesn’t matter, satoru won’t stop until you pass out anyway.

“T-Toru—too much—“ you gasp, grabbing his hair as you feel another orgasm, just previously creaming on his fingers. He pulls away, mouth and chin glistening, letting out little puffs of air while his fingers spread you open, staring intensely at your fluttering hole. “She’s practically begging for more, baby? ur’ cunts too needy to stop now~”

He spits on your already dripping pussy to lick it back up, pausing at your clit to kiss and suck, shaking his head back and forth and letting out little grunts. Satoru gets possessive and mutters “my fuckin’ Pussy..” into your slippery cunt, and you just nod along because of how fucked out you are, “ngh!–toru’s pussy…” Satoru gets the most pleasure when pleasing you, rocking his hips into the surface below him as he listens to the angelic chants of his name leaving your puffy lips.

He’s a firm believer of “dicking you to sleep” and he has the stamina to do so. He’ll push into you your creamy pussy, watching the way it stretches around his thick tip. You Intake a sharp breath, chest heaving at how big he is, no prep ever being enough for the real thing. Satoru batters your pussy like a fleshlight, forceful thrusts having you squirming and choking on your own moans. If he has you face down, you just lay there drooling and burying your face into the pillows, taking his dick like the good girl you are. Even when it’s intense, he’ll just hold your hips tighter, “don’t run, take this fuckin’ dick..”

Satoru will bend you into any position that allows him to watch your face. He loves to watch the way your eyebrows scrunch and the pure ecstasy you express when he hits your g-spot. (Will make you record with your trembling hands for his own use later.) He loves to play with your tits too, enjoying the way you hiss if he bites or pinches too hard. “Satoru-! Be n-nice..” “am’ being nice, you jus’ look so cute..”

He goes from fucking you like a toy to slow sensual thrusts once you become sensitive, in your ear talking you through it, “That feel good, baby? let it out, I got you~” he reaches down to rub your swollen clit, holding your hands in his bigger ones so you can’t push him away. He does this until you lay on the bed with limbs feeling like jelly and your mind is all foggy, slowly slipping in and out of consciousness.

He makes sure to release inside you, pumping you full of his milky cum because he has so much and it ends up coming out of your spent, slick pussy in globs. He’ll push it back in and then “clean you up”, which is just him Eating the mixture of yours and his’ cum, letting out pornographic moans to put on a show for you. “Taste so good together~”

You get the best night sleep after, and he’ll stay awake a little later just so he could play with your hair and comfort you to sleep. The day you finally confess he tries to play it off but he’s got butterflies in his stomach and flushed cheeks. He’s just so in love<33

A/n: technically a late gojo birthday post bc I had classes yesterday and was too miserable to write lol, anyway I love writing men who are down bad for oc</3

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mingihttps · 2 months

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21 questions

bang chan x fem!reader

you want chan by your side when having a panic attack but he won't answer your calls. thankfully han is there to distract you until chan finally comes home.

wc: >800

warnings: established relationship, angsts, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, crying, hyperventilating, self harm (hair pulling), pet names (baby, babygirl, my love, sweetheart), a couple cuss words

"the number you have dialed is-" i hit the red button on my phone screen with shaking hands. i've lost count of how many times i've tried to call chan in the past hour. my sobs and uneven breaths echo off the walls of my bedroom and reach my ears twice as loud. my boyfriend not answering my calls when i need him just makes the tears run down my face faster. my thoughts are running a thousand miles a second. going from feeling so alone to feeling like my own boyfriend hates me. it's getting harder and harder to breathe by the second as it feels like the room is getting smaller. then, suddenly, the sound of the dorm room closing and heavy footsteps are ringing in my ears. based on the loud rhythm of the footsteps, i can tell that they don't belong to chan. i tuck my head between my knees and tightly thread my fingers in my hair as a way to ground myself and, hopefully, keep myself quiet. i don't want whoever it is that entered the dorm to know that I'm having a panic attack for who knows what fucking reason at this point. i can hear the footsteps getting louder as they get closer and closer to my lover's room that i've been hiding in ever since they left for practice this morning. i tug on my hair harder as my tears or faster as the footsteps stop on the other side of the door. there is a gentle knock that sounds three times louder than what it probably was. i put a hand over my mouth to make sure no sobs came out, which is fruitless since whoever is at the door already knows I'm in here.

"y/n... can i come in?" i hold back A choked sob, which only makes my breathing more shallow. why had han come home? were the others on the way? god, I hope so. "y/n? i know you probably want channie-hyung but he won't be home for another hour... so can i please come in?" now that i know han heard me crying there's no point in trying to keep quiet. i uncover my mouth and let all of my shaky breaths be heard by han through the door. han quickly moves to open the bedroom door and make his way to me. "shit." i hear him mutter under his breath once he sees the state that i'm in, hyperventilating and shaking as i hold myself for comfort.

"what happened?" he whispers affectionately as he sits beside me on the bed and takes my other hand out of my hair gently.

"i don't know anymore." i said, truthfully and quietly, but han still heard me.

"that's okay sweetheart, you don't have to know," he whispers once again while smoothing down my hair, "wanna play a game?"

i look at han with teary eyes questioningly. "what game?" i sniffled.

"how about 21 questions?" han smiled down at me with practically pleading eyes.

i wipe my eyes and nod my head. i know he's just trying to distract me from my anxiety, but who am i to say no.

"okay, i'll start, what's your favorite color?"

"han, you already know that"

"just answer!" i teasingly shake my head before answering the question and asking my own. i don't know when, but han must have texted chan and told him that i was crying because a few minutes into the game, i hear the front door slam shut and someone calling my name. the bedroom door opens quickly, revealing my boyfriend.

"i'm so sorry, babygirl, are you okay?" chan says as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

"it's okay channie, i know you're busy," i reassure him as i wrap my arms around his torso, "hannie helped me calm down"

"i know, he texted me, i'm sorry i wasnt here sooner, baby" chan apologizes again.

"i'm going to end this game of 21 questions here, then" han says as he gets off the bed with a stretch and leaves to go to his own room.

"you hungry at all, baby?" chan asks and i shake my head.

"i am tired, though" i whisper as i lay down in the bed.

"then let's take a nap, my love" my boyfriend whispered back as he lays down beside me.

requests are open !!

reposted from my old account

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woso-fan13 · 8 months

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Whumptober 2023: 1 (Arsenal)

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You had laughed at the viral video of Sam hip checking a pitch invader, the move being such a classic Sam move that you didn’t even think about the possibility that something bad could have happened. It seemed so unlikely that someone would manage to make it past security, onto the pitch, and then over to the players just to harm one of them.

But it happened. It was the 86th minute and you had just assisted Beth with an absolute banger. You were resting your hands on your head, not paying attention as you tried to force air back into your lungs before the game restarted.

You weren’t paying attention to much of what was happening, only noticing when you heard multiple players- teammates and opponents alike- shouting your name in a panic. You looked up to see a very large- very scary- man charging towards you. You did what most teenage girls would do in your position and froze.

He rams into you, knocking the two of you to the ground forcefully. His tackle was definitely more American football style than the type of football you usually played.

You lay on the ground, this man who is easily a foot taller than you and double your weight crushing you. You can’t scream, can’t move, you’re just paralyzed with fear.

In a recurring theme, Sam Kerr decides to handle the situation herself. You can finally take a breath- shallow and shuddering- as you watch your opponent pull this beast of a man off of you and stand over him. Your panicked eyes manage to find security, making their way over, but that’s the last thing you see before you’re enveloped into a hug and your vision is obscured by someone’s body.

Viv. Viv was safe. So you latched on to Viv, your fingers gripping into her jersey as you shoved your face into her neck. You were spiraling and Viv was your safety net.

The next little while is a blur, but you remember getting taken to the side of the pitch. When Viv tried to push you into someone else’s hold, you freaked out. Sobbing, you clung tighter to her, begging her not to leave. Leah was shocked that you wouldn’t move into her embrace, she knew that you trusted her. Trying to help you out, she unlatches your hands and tries to pull you into her arms.

You become dead weight, sobs breaking through your hyperventilation. Jonas took pity on you, telling Viv she could be subbed out to stay with you. The woman quickly picked you up off the ground, carrying you back through the tunnel and into the locker room.

She sat on the bench in front of your locker, cradling you in her lap. She rocked gently, speaking quietly to you in Dutch. You couldn’t understand her, but the process and the soothing tone calmed you and you were able to regain control of your breathing. Even as your sobs slowed and eventually stopped, Viv kept up the calming repetition. By the time you had finally calmed down enough that Viv was no longer afraid that you were going to make yourself sick, you were slumped into her, your exhaustion clear.

Explaining everything to you before she makes any move, Viv manages to rinse you off in a shower and get you dressed in a sweatsuit. She has you sitting in between her legs as she brushes your hair out when the locker room door opens.

It was quiet, something that was a rarity for the team. Everyone was in shock still, the previous events having shaken everyone up. You huddled closer to Viv as everyone entered. Realistically, you knew that they would never hurt you- the whole team had become older sisters to you. But still, the nagging thought in the back of your mind was that he might be there, coming for you.

Everyone’s gaze was sympathetic as they looked at you, giving you a wide berth. You sat still for the next while, watching as everyone went to shower and put on clean clothes. No one approached you until Viv gestured to Leah and Beth to come over. The two women walked slowly, not wanting to spook you. Beth moves to sit next to Viv and Leah crouches in front of you. You can hear Viv whispering something to Beth, but you can’t make out what she’s saying.

“Schatje,” Viv says, getting your attention, “I need to go shower. You’re going to stay right here with Beth and Leah, and I will be back as soon as I can.”

Partway through her sentence- when you realized that she would be leaving- you turned your body enough to cling to her again. You wiggle as close as you can to her, tears beginning to flow again.

“I know it’s going to be hard, but you’re going to be okay. I just need 10 minutes, I can leave a timer on my phone. After that, you’re coming home with Beth and I and we can cuddle for the rest of the night,” Viv had hoped that the promise of a quick reunification and snuggles would be enough to convince you to let go.

It wasn’t. You began sobbing harder, your cries becoming more frantic as you felt someone else rest a hand on your back. You squirmed, trying to get away from the other person while staying as close to Viv as you possibly could. Your panic only heightened when you heard Beth whisper, “just go,” to Viv.

You began hyperventilating, pleading with Viv to stay between breaths. She couldn’t leave, you needed her.

You felt her shift under you, and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you from the back. It was awkward, but you were transferred into Beth’s arms, your back to her chest. Her grip around you was tight, her hug keeping your arms down at your side.

You’re fully panicking at this point, and it only increases when you see Viv stand up and walk away. As soon as the door shuts behind her, you become inconsolable.

Leah resumes her position in front of you, very carefully moving her hands towards you. She makes sure that you see her, that you’re aware of her presence, before she puts her hands on either side of your face. Still, you flinch.

She angles your head so that you’re looking directly at her, panic also evident in her eyes. This was a situation that no one had seen before, the team’s happy-go-lucky little sister was broken.

“You’re alright, Love, you’re going to be okay. Viv’ll be back as soon as she can, and then we’ll get you home. No one in this room is going to let anything else happen to you, you’re safe,” Leah continues to speak calmly and reassuringly to you, still holding your head so you’re forced to look at her.

Your eyes are wide, frantically searching the room for any possible threats. After about five minutes of Leah reassuring you and Beth holding you tightly, you finally make eye contact with Leah. Both women breathe a sigh of relief. It might be small, but it’s an improvement.

A few minutes after that, your breathing becomes somewhat more controlled. You’re sobbing and your breath is hitching as you choke and cough around your sobs, trying to catch your breath. But you weren’t actively having a panic attack, which, again, is an improvement.

Leah, feeling bold, moves one hand to smooth back your hair. When she feels you lean every so slightly into the touch, she continues stroking your hair. You were coming back to them, albeit slowly.

You’re so distracted by looking at Leah as she guides you through your breathing that you don’t notice the door open. You’re not even aware as a figure approaches, fully trusting Leah and Beth to keep you safe. You only notice as this person sits beside you and rests a hand on your leg.

Viv. Viv is safe. Again, you throw yourself at her, almost knocking her off the bench. The only difference this time is that your legs are still in Beth’s lap, and Leah still had a hand resting on the back of your head.

Viv hugs you tightly. She would never admit it, but she hadn’t wanted to separate from you either. Realistically, she knew you were safe and that you would be okay with your teammates. But, still, a little part of her didn’t want to let go and give anything else the chance to hurt you. She could feel your hands gripping into her shirt, clutching like you were afraid she would disappear. She held you just as tightly.

After you have calmed down from your reunification, Beth and Leah slowly remove themselves. The three women hear as you whimper slightly at the loss, Beth and Leah having to hold back smiles. Instead, they gather all of their belongings, shoving them into bags as quickly as they can. Beth grabs Viv’s bag and Leah grabs yours, and the two return to you in about a minute.

It would take some time, but the three women would eventually coax you out to the car, Viv settling in the back seat with you. The other two sat in the front, almost constantly staring back at you in the mirror.

The drive was short, and you pulled up to a familiar house. Viv steps out of the car, pulling you into her arms. The simple act of getting you away from the stadium had allowed you to calm considerably, and you were no longer crying. Your breathing was steady and slow, your eyes blinking heavily as both physical and emotional exhaustion consumed you. But you knew you were going to be taken inside and snuggled between all of the women. Everyone already knew that Leah would be staying, the woman already having invited herself over. And tomorrow, though you didn’t know it, the rest of the team would be showing up with breakfast. With your support system, you would be okay.

#woso imagine #womens soccer #woso imagines #reader insert #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso community #leah williamson #beth mead #viv miedema

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theferrarieffect · 3 months

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pastry's girl (papaya problems - part 2)

masterlist

continuation of papaya problems (part 1).

Lando x reader, Oscar x reader (4.3k words)

summary: dating lando is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. until it is. oscar’s there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: cheating (not by reader), just the teensiest bit of smut (lol finally did it, nothing too explicit), angst, mild violence, colorful language, evil lando (i promise i love him irl)

pastry’s girl

There is, mercifully, a two-week break between Monaco and Canada. Several times, George invited the entire gaming squad over to his place (probably to show off how nice it was—and sometimes his cooking skills, which Oscar had to admit lived up to the hype). One night, they played a heated round of Call of Duty which resulted in a drunken Alex locking Lando inside of a massive pantry…and Lando drinking a fifty-year-old bottle of Cabernet in the wine cooler within. George had kicked Lando out for the night, rolling his eyes as he called his driver and asked him to please remove this miscreant from my residence. The rest of them fell asleep in various empty rooms around his massive house.

Oscar rubbed his eyes the next morning as he made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of pancakes that George was undoubtedly conjuring up.

“Well, don’t you look pretty today,” he heard George say.

“Thanks!” she chirped.

Oscar stopped dead in his tracks.

Wow. Her hair had been freed from its normal messy bun; soft, shiny waves cascaded down her back. She was wearing—not a dress, exactly, but a dusty blue top with scalloped sleeves and a neckline that plunged so deeply he felt a little like hyperventilating, flowing seamlessly into shorts that had the same lacy hem.

Oscar decided in that moment that dusty blue was his favorite color.

She turned to face him, and he saw her eyes, fringed with coal black lashes, widen. Her pink, glossy lips parted in a smile. As devastating as ever.

Oscar swallowed hard. “You look—” he forbade himself from glancing at her long, tanned legs, or that illegal neckline, “—really nice. What’s the occasion?”

“I have a date later,” she announced proudly.

“Oh,” he squeaked.

George’s eyes burned a hole in the back of Oscar’s neck.

“Lucky bloke,” Alex jumped in, casually raising a mug to his lips.

“More like,” George said, “who’s the lucky bloke?”

She blushed. Oscar stared at the ground. “Lando.”

Alex choked, spraying coffee everywhere. “Lando? Like, our Lando? McLaren Lando?” he spluttered.

“What are you gonna say next, McLaren Racing, thirteen-time podium holder, British Formula One driver Lando Norris?” George mocked, making all of them laugh.

“That is so weird,” Alex complained. Then he noticed the hurt look on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly backpedaled. “Just more that Lando would never just ask someone out. He’s more of the type to just drunkenly hit on a girl in a bar, you know?”

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “You’re right, he doesn’t seem like the most…romantic type.”

“Well,” George said, “I say good for you. You’re killing it.” He flipped the last of the pancakes on top of a neat stack, slid the plate smoothly towards Oscar, and patted her on the head as he left the kitchen. Alex trotted after him, the filthy traitor, leaving Oscar alone with her.

Last season, Oscar had been engaged in a rather physical match of football against Logan, Alex, and Lando, when Logan had kicked the ball way too aggressively, and it had shot out and hit Oscar right below his ribcage. Naturally, it had knocked the wind out of him, and a few of his ribs were bruised for ages.

He felt a lot like that right now.

Her eyes roamed his face. “You okay?” she asked uncertainly.

No. I’m really not okay. Even though I knew this was coming.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’m excited for you.”

She twirled a piece of hair around her pointer finger. Anxiously, Oscar thought. He watched her thin gold ring with a tiny jeweled flower set into it, flashing as she spun her finger around and around. “You know what Alex said?” she asked, frowning a little. “Do…do you think it’s true?”

Oscar sighed. Part of him wanted to tell her, Yes, it’s true. That’s just how Lando Norris operates. He doesn’t know how to commit, he’s always just looking for a good time, and he could think you’re hot even if you have absolutely nothing in common. But he knew he’d be a pretty shitty person if he said that, a terrible friend to the only person he truly had in McLaren—his own teammate. And as much as he hated to admit it, part of it would be out of selfishness.

So he tried to keep his face as impassive as possible as he responded, “What I can tell you is that Lando does really like you. And he knows you better than any girl he’d just meet in a bar.” He took a deep breath. “And if he means it in the slightest, he better treat you like it.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Oscar.”

You had suggested to Lando something chill, something low-key, for your first date, but he would have none of it. He takes you to dinner, a fancy French bistro where you definitely used the wrong fork at least a few times. He compliments your outfit, tells you that you look gorgeous and sexy and how-could-he-be-so-lucky. Then he takes you in his Spider—it’s custom, he says with a grin—to Jimmy’z, a luxurious nightclub illuminated by neon circles in the ceiling, moving strobes encircling a massive disco ball smack in the center. He brings you whatever drink you ask for, twirls you around on the dance floor, even whispers to the DJ to request your favorite song. He doesn’t get drunk, not in the way you were scared he might.

At the end of the night, he kisses you, tasting faintly of Jack Daniels, and you think his lips feel a little sloppy, but nice. You watch him drive away in the Spider, wondering if Oscar ever did finish watching Killing Eve, wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito.

Juggling being both a pit crew member and a driver’s girlfriend is...interesting, to say the least. You beg Lando to keep it quiet, at least for a little, and he agrees reluctantly. Alex and George are a tougher sell, requiring several thinly veiled threats and a few pointed glares during close calls. You know inside, for some reason, that Oscar would never gossip about you two.

Lando does tell Andrea, the team principal, who you know absolutely dotes on Lando like a son. Like the golden boy of McLaren that he is. Andrea looks surprised when he meets you, tells you he’s glad Lando finally has what appears to be a “smart, levelheaded girlfriend.”

Lando takes you to more fancy dinners, more bars, clubs where he occasionally DJs. Once, he takes you golfing, laughs at how inept your swing is, guides your arms with his. You ask Lando if he’s seen Killing Eve; he’s never heard of it. He’s not the biggest TV guy, prefers to spend his time streaming on his Twitch. The dates are fun, you suppose, but some nights end in you quite literally dragging yourself into bed, totally spent after an entire evening trying to match Lando’s energy. You know Lando’s face wears a look of disappointment on those nights.

You still game with Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar, and things are…well, mostly normal. Alex and George bicker like they always used to; if anything, they gleefully snatch any opportunity to poke fun at the two of you, liberally making kissy faces and rude noises. You don’t mind that. Lando is touchy as hell, perpetually leaning against you or putting his head in your lap or kissing you on the cheek. You don’t mind that too much, either.

But Oscar is different. Oscar is not normal. He stops laughing at Lando’s jokes, stops laughing at George and Alex taunting you two. And eventually, something you dreaded the most: Oscar stops coming to game altogether.

On the third night in a row without any sign of him, you wait until Lando makes a mad dash for the bathroom before confronting George and Alex about Oscar’s absence.

Alex looks uncharacteristically grim. “I mean, what did you expect?” he asks. “He doesn’t want to see you two making eyes at each other over Rocket League.”

“He's not blaming you,” George cuts in quickly.

“I blame Lando Norris,” mutters Alex under his breath.

“Tell him to come back,” you plead. “If we’re being annoying and couple-y, we can—we will—stop.”

Alex smirks. “Tell that to Norris. You’re not the one being annoying and couple-y.”

“Listen,” George says, suddenly serious. “I know we were giving you a hard time about Oscar earlier this season, and to be totally fair, he’s not exactly the most forthcoming guy about his feelings. But it felt pretty obvious to us that he was into you, and Norris just snatched you up out of nowhere.”

Alex nods in agreement. “Oscar never talks about girls. Or at least never talked about them, until you came around. Norris on the other hand…I mean, by now I’m sure you know his reputation. So can you really blame us for feeling bad for the guy?”

Your heart sinks. It can’t be. You open your mouth to protest, but Lando comes barging back into the room right then, and plants a big kiss on your forehead as Alex makes gagging noises in the background.

There was no winning. Not for Oscar. He could sit there and watch Lando manhandle her on a weekly basis, or he could spend Tuesday nights wondering about what stupid joke of Alex’s she was laughing at, what new show she was raving about that Oscar would promptly Google (and sometimes binge) over the following race weekend. To the great credit of George and Alex, they still made the time to game with him, separate from the happy couple.

So when he crashed out at Silverstone on Lap 45, having taken a hit to his rear left from Esteban, even he was surprised at the string of swearwords that he spit into the team radio. (He was pretty sure that fucking-10-second-penalty-for-fucking-Ocon was among them.) The silence from his engineers told him that they were just as shocked by the normally mild-mannered driver. Oscar instantly regretted it; angry radios were a one-way ticket to Memeville. He didn’t know how Yuki and Max cursed with such abandon.

Lando finished P3, narrowly snatching a podium over a soulless Charles Leclerc, whose team robbed him of a crucial pit stop. Oscar watched him shake Lando’s hand, eyes devoid of any emotion, and privately felt a bitter kinship with the tortured Monégasque.

She had sprinted over to his car as soon as he had driven it into the pit lane, fretted over whether he was okay. Helped him out of the car. As the drivers milled around the paddock after the race, she slipped a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk—his favorite—into his hand, and asked him to tell Lando that she had a bad headache and that she’d try to get to the hotel. Oscar nodded silently, handing her the keys to his driver’s room so she could at least take a nap in the meantime, watched her eyes light up in gratitude.

He begrudgingly relayed the information to Lando, who didn’t seem to register a word of what Oscar said as he raised his trophy victoriously, greeting his adoring British fans.

“Did you hear me?” Oscar growled. “She’ll be in my driver’s room. I told her you’d come see her as soon as you could.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lando waved him away.

George and Alex walked over after the race and clapped Oscar on the back in sympathy; they’d both had their fair share of crashes on Silverstone. Sensing that Oscar was in no mood to celebrate, the three of them decided just to go get dinner post-race instead. They followed George down to the Mercedes motorhome to grab a set of keys when, almost simultaneously, the three of them all noticed a flash of papaya among the black-and-teal-clad Mercedes crew.

Oscar froze. The papaya was Lando. And he was pressing up against some Mercedes girl, her smiling, him caressing her teal collar. Oscar knew George and Alex were both gaping next to him. He turned away in disgust as Lando leaned down to press his lips onto the girl’s.

So he had been listening, after all.

“Oscar, wait,” Alex’s voice floated behind him as he stalked out of the Mercedes motorhome and towards his own.

“I’m not going to dinner,” he snapped.

“I know, mate,” said Alex sympathetically. “This whole thing is such shit, and Norris is a little bastard.”

George caught up. “Someone’s got to tell her, don’t you think?”

A wave of nausea hit Oscar. He could already picture the look on her face, see the disbelief and betrayal and heartbreak.

“Let me do it,” Alex said gently. “If she wants to shoot the messenger, way better me than you.”

Oscar swallowed. “She’s in my driver’s room,” he told Alex. “She probably will want to go back to the hotel, though, if you don’t mind—”

“Yeah, mate,” said Alex definitively. “I’ll take her where she wants to go. And I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Thanks, man.” He closed his eyes, rubbed his throbbing temples. He felt Alex touch his shoulder briefly, then disappear. When he finally opened his eyes again, George was looking at him, face lined with concern.

“We should go on a walk,” he said quietly, and stood up.

Oscar numbly followed his lead.

“Or not,” George muttered, as Lando and his entourage of McLaren staff—including Andrea—sauntered into the motorhome.

Lando’s face wore a look of gleeful triumph as he made his way towards the two of them. But Oscar saw a flicker of something else—smugness. I always win, it seemed to say. And better yet—I can get away with anything.

And it was that tiny, tiny flicker that compelled Oscar to step forward, raise his right arm, and smoothly drive his fist straight into Lando’s nose in one fluid motion.

The entire room went silent.

“What the FUCK, man?!” Lando screeched. He covered his nose with his hands. Blood seeped out from between this fingers.

“You had no right,” Oscar snarled viciously.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Lando hissed back.

“We saw you kiss her, you piece of shit. In broad fucking daylight. In the fucking Mercedes motorhome, of all places.”

Oscar expected Lando’s face to crumple, whether in genuine or feigned shame, but not to glare defiantly back.

“Yeah, that’s rich, coming from you,” Lando snapped.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know she was obsessed with you,” he sneered. “You’re just as much of an asshole to her as I am.”

“I’m not,” Oscar said, stunned. What did Lando mean, obsessed? After that night—he winced at the memory—it looked like she was doing everything she could to avoid Oscar. And then, Lando told him that he wanted to ask her out. So he’d kept his distance. Didn’t Lando see that?

“Oscar and Lando,” Andrea said sternly. “I’ll be seeing you two in the office. Now.”

Oscar stared back at Lando unflinchingly.

“I did it for you,” he spat, before following Andrea to the back of the motorhome.

“MY drivers,” Andrea fumed. “MY FORMULA ONE drivers, punching each other out in MY motorhome! Would somebody care to explain what the hell happened out there?”

Both Lando and Oscar stared at the floor.

“Yeah, about that,” said George, somehow having invited himself into the meeting. “Sooooo….Lando here decided to suck face with one of the staff over at Mercedes while his girlfriend is dying of a headache back in the driver’s room.”

Andrea’s nostrils flared.

“Did I mention his girlfriend?” George added, clearly trying to get a point across.

Andrea stalked around his desk and leaned in, face close to Oscar’s. He’d never seen Andrea this mad before, and he had to admit, he was a tad afraid of what the principal might do to him.

He squinted. “Did you put your weight behind it?”

“Excuse me?” Oscar said, not sure if he heard correctly.

“Did you put your weight behind it, Piastri?” Andrea repeated impatiently.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Andrea gave a singular heaving sigh, rubbing his hands together. “Well. Alright then.” And he gestured for the three of them to leave his office with a flourish.

In your hotel room, the only source of light comes from your laptop, which is playing The Art of Racing in the Rain. Despite it being a tearjerker of a movie, you always felt compelled to reach for it whenever your own life felt like it was crumbling into dust.

Denny is taking Enzo for a run in the rain when your phone lights up with a text.

Oscar Hey Alex told me he brought you back to the hotel Me yeah he did

Alex had been incredibly kind as he broke the news to you, wiping your tears with the sleeve of his undersuit, borrowing a Williams staff car to drive you back to your hotel instead of calling you an Uber, buying you a little pack of extremely overpriced hotel Advil for your headache. He asked you if you wanted to be with anyone. You briefly considered the people you knew on staff, the drivers, thought about whether any of them could make you feel…if not better, at least comfortable.

But really, there was only one answer.

Oscar Can I come in?

And for only the second time ever, you open your door to Oscar standing there. As soon as you see him, gazing at you with the most heartbreaking sadness in his eyes, you start to cry.

“Shhh,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s sit down.”

You nod, sniffling, and Oscar eases the door closed behind him, joins you on the bed.

“Art of Racing,” he notes quietly. “It’s a good movie.”

You admit that it’s your go-to sad film. Oscar offers up an arm, and you slide in next to him, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

“Thanks for coming.” Your voice is shaky.

Oscar gives you a light squeeze. “I’ll always come,” he whispers.

You sit there, side by side, watching Enzo’s golden ears flap in the wind of Denny’s racecar. Oscar orders food, and as you pull a slice of Hawaiian-without-the-pineapple from the box, watching the cheese stretch into thin strings, you wonder how things could have changed so much since the last time you ate pizza together. Before everything went so terribly, horribly wrong.

“Are you tired?” Oscar asks you a few hours later. Killing Eve is playing on the TV, even though you’ve both watched the whole show now. Just background noise. It's what you need. You’re lying on his arm, face nestled between his neck and chest. Not unlike the morning you woke up to him.

“I don’t know if I can sleep tonight,” you admit. “So feel free to go back if you want to go to bed.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Oscar says, gently but insistently. Warmth fills your body at his words, which gives way to longing. You want closer. You want him. You press yourself against his chest, angle your jaw upwards, closer to his lips…

And Oscar pulls away, his body suddenly rigid.

An icy chill pours into your stomach, supplanting the warmth that had filled your body just a moment earlier.

“It’s my fault,” mumbles Oscar, barely comprehensible.

What? “What are you talking about?” you eke out.

“George’s kitchen,” he says.

You shiver, feeling like you’re in a dark cave, and Oscar’s holding the sole flashlight between the two of you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Oscar.”

“In Monaco. I told you that Lando likes you. I told you that you should go out with Lando.”

Your heart twists. “Oscar,” you say fiercely, “you can’t blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head.

“It’s only Lando’s fault,” you insist. “And honestly…I shouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place. I didn’t feel it...for him.”

“Lando came up to me one day,” Oscar says slowly. “He asked me about you, about that night I slept over. He asked how I’d feel about him asking you out…”

The ice climbs up your arms, down to your fingers that are still touching Oscar’s jawline. You wrench them away, knowing what's coming.

“And you told him you’re okay with it,” you whisper dejectedly. You understand now.

You need to tell him.

“Oscar…all this time, you’ve been so sweet and kind and caring…” You furiously blink back the fresh tears gathering in the crevices of your eyes. “And since basically day one, I’ve just been letting myself read into it, letting myself think that you weren’t just being nice. I let myself think that you wanted me…because I wanted you.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He looks almost fearful, you think.

“And when Lando asked me out, I said yes thinking that dating him…would help me get over you,” you continue. The tears have long since started streaming down your face; it’s all you can do to stop your voice from shaking. “To get over how badly I wanted you, but you never wanted me—”

You gasp as Oscar grabs you roughly by the waist, a stark contrast to the gentle arm around the shoulders earlier. He presses his body right up against yours, and what you feel on him—on his body—may well be lighting you on fire.

“Look at me,” he says. A shiver runs down your spine. “I said, look at me,” he repeats, more forcefully.

You obey, looking into his eyes, and are met with something so raw and ferocious, so unlike the Oscar that you've known, that you’re afraid you’re going to faint.

“Still think I don’t want you?” Oscar asks in a low voice.

A small choke escapes your throat. Wordlessly, you bring your hand back up to his jaw, tracing the bottom edge of his lips.

Oscar needs no more invitation. He seals the chasm between you.

His mouth explores yours, tentatively at first, then hungrily. Your lips part as a breath hitches in your throat, and Oscar uses the opportunity to slip his tongue in between them. His hand slides up your back from your waist, around your neck, then dances around your jaw. You play with that perfect, smooth wave of hair near his temples with one hand, feel the tension in the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his abs with the other. Playing with the hem of his white t-shirt.

As soon as he feels your fingers graze his stomach, Oscar breaks the kiss, looking at you imploringly with those beautiful brown eyes.

“If you’re okay with it,” you whisper.

Oscar answers by tugging the shirt over his head, letting it dangle from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the floor. He leans in again, but his lips are now everywhere besides your lips—your neck, tracing your collarbone, moving up your jaw. An involuntary hiss escapes you as he takes your earlobe between them. The sound seems to energize Oscar, his own breathing growing ragged as he slips the silky straps of your top down your shoulders and kisses you dangerously low on your chest, thumbs brushing little circles on them, making you whimper.

“Tell me when you want me to stop,” he murmurs into the fabric.

You never want him to stop. You need all of him, need him like a wilting plant needs water, like a blazing fire needs oxygen.

You have no idea…

You shake your head, and all restraint is gone. Oscar makes up for all the ground he’d been holding back on, with his hands, with his lips.

…how long I’ve been waiting…

You pull off his shorts, sigh as he reciprocates. There’s not a stitch of clothing left in between your bodies.

…for you to be here.

One more pleading look, one more fervent nod, and Oscar, so tender even in the middle of an aching, desperate storm, finally closes the gap.

Freckles. Three of them. But there’s no t-shirt this time.

“Wake up, sleepy,” you whisper.

Oscar stirs. “You must have mistaken me for your pillow,” he says, smiling at you. Your stomach flutters.

“I hope you didn’t mind,” you tell him. He laughs, pulls you fully into a hug, kisses you gently on the top of your head.

“So, I got an interesting text from George yesterday…” you trail off.

“Uh oh,” Oscar says.

You show him your phone, where George had outlined the events that took place in the motorhome in great detail.

“I can’t believe you socked him,” you say, a little incredulously.

Oscar rolls his eyes. “I’m not proud of it, doesn't mean he didn't deserve it.”

Then he sees something on your screen, and grabs your phone. “Wait a sec.”

Me i asked alex to ask oscar to come to the hotel is that bad George Russell Nah. You’re Pastry’s girl. Always have been, always will be. 😏

“I didn’t come up with that nickname,” you protest, blushing. “In fact, I told George to stop calling me that ages ago.”

“Pastry’s girl,” Oscar muses. “Pastry’s girl…I gotta say, I like the sound of that.”

And the sound of his laughter as he scoops you into his arms is, really, as sweet as pastries.

notes:

just realized how real of homies george and alex are…like they also totally get involved with charles in jealousy jealousy 😭 i’m highkey procrastinating on the george x alex fic bc i will not settle for anything less than stellar w those two…

the scene where andrea starts to chew them out? fully stolen from grey’s anatomy, of all places 😂

10 second penalty for ocon

chuck leclerc is soulless fr

yuki and max raging on team radio

part 1 here! more fics here!

#f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #lando norris x you #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #op81 #ln4 #thank you to the two dms i got asking for a sequel and my inability to sit down and work on my one long george x alex fic #i will atone for my actions with a fluffy lando fic i promise

144 notes · View notes

lesinquietes · 5 months

Text

Summary: You talk shit to the wrong person on a discussion forum. Idly, you troll one user who’s really into the Paranormal Liberation Front’s new leader, Tomura Shigaraki. You’ve heard he’s being heralded as the Villain of Villains, though you’re not sure that’s a valid title. You decide it’s time to make your opinion known. “Idk if I’d give him that title… lol he’s giving insecure incel.”

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. degradation. incel. misogyny. noncon. oral. panic attacks. shigaraki is a mean dom. slut-shaming. yandere.

Next l

You snicker as you press enter. Admittedly, you don’t know enough about the white-haired criminal to make that judgement call. You’re basing your statement solely on appearance. What can you say? Making ignorant comments is the essence of shitposting. You get to act a fool online because no one will ever discover who you are.

Until the user you mouthed off to replies.

Crumbleking: the fuck do you know?

Crumbleking: and you think a guy like him wouldn’t get women? he has a fucking army you stupid bitch he can have anyone he wants. that’s not insecure.

You roll your eyes, noticing he didn’t address the incel comment.

(Your username): I literally do not give a fuck lol do you want him @ crumbleking? Seeing as you know so much about his personal life and all

Crumbleking: you should be thankful he hasn’t killed you yet

(Your username): I’m not hearing a no

Crumbleking: get fucked

(Your username): Apparently shig is doing enough of that for both of us lmao

Crumbleking: you’re asking for it

You block the user. How many times has some moron threatened you online? Too many. But you take solace in the fact that, just like you, everyone’s simply a keyboard warrior. At the end of the day, it’s not like any of this shit is serious.

Right? :)

Well, a few days after this incident, you login to your social media account and notice a message in your mailbox. You lift a brow. It’s probably a meme from your best friend. You’re surprised to find a notification next to Requests. Someone you aren’t friends with has messaged you.

Hastily, you tap the Requests tab. You don’t know why your heart is pounding, or why you have a horrid feeling about this. Perhaps you’re under too much stress lately, or perhaps your intuition is trying to tell you something — that you’re in danger.

The request is from someone named Shigaraki. You know it can’t be the real villain. You clue in that it’s likely that freak who was defending him on the forum. He must have determined who you are somehow and resorted to messaging you on your private social.

Shigaraki: hello you dumb slut

Shigaraki: remember me?

Yeah, it’s definitely him. You wonder what his goal is, what he wants from you; normal behaviour doesn’t include stalking. You debate on whether or not to reply. You could play dumb or own up to your role. Of course, it’s far easier to do the former.

You: no?

It’s simple and to-the-point. You see him typing back right away. You hold your breath when he stops. Then, the screenshots from the forum come, reminding you of the conversation.

Shigaraki: i know you’re (username).

You resort to the IP tracker on your laptop, figuring you’ll spook him and he’ll leave you alone. You power it up and click eagerly. When you’re halfway through locating him, it’s as though he’s read your mind.

Shigaraki: if you think I’m not using a vpn then you’re stupider than I thought

The panic really sets in now. You’re hyperventilating. The message shoots you into a panic attack — the kind when your throat constricts and your lungs heave stale air. You scratch at your chest and gasp. You feel like you’re dying. You can’t breathe. With quivering fingers, you type a nasty message to him.

You: what the fuck is wrong with you. why the hell do you care what i think this much???? please leave me alone. blocking you.

That’ll end this terror once and for all. Or will it?

Shigaraki: Don’t you fucking dare you whore

His response is nearly instantaneous.

Shigaraki: if you block me I’ll find you irl

Shigaraki: i just showed you how easy it was to find your social media profile

Shigaraki: i’ll fucking find you

Shigaraki: and we’ll see if you feel the same about me when we’re face to face

You can’t stand it. You press the block button and exit the app. You turn off your phone — as if that’ll help — and throw it onto your bed. You shut down your laptop place it gently atop your desk. That’s enough for tonight. You have to remind yourself that the person threatening you is just a persistent troll, that the Tomura Shigaraki would never waste his precious time bantering with a random person on the Internet. You get to bed using that precise logic.

Except you’re wrong.

A few weeks pass, and you make the foolish mistake of thinking you’re safe. You start to throw caution into the wind, glancing over your shoulder less and walking home from work at night. You don’t notice the pale man trailing you. He watches you at work, as you hustle under pressure, and at home, before you close the curtains. He’s seen you naked twice. He assumes you meant to show off your body to an audience, that you like a bit of exhibitionism. Well, he’ll keep that in mind when he extensively plots out your payback.

Finally, one evening, he strikes. You come home from work and close the door. Securing the locks, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

He wraps a hand around your neck, keeping his pinky lifted to prove a point. He could kill you if he wanted. He could turn you to dust and be done with this stupid shit. In truth, he doesn’t know why he let his anger overtake him to the point where he had to find you. The problem is, he can’t stop his pursuit. If you escaped him right now, he would find you again.

And again.

And again, until he’s able to teach you a fucking lesson.

“Thought you could get away from me, huh?” He rasps next to your ear. “I found your social media account. Didn’t think I’d find your address?” He cackles venomously. “Stupid whore.”

You know immediately who you’re being held captive by. It’s the guy you were talking shit to online. It also happens to be Tomura Shigaraki, in the flesh. You realize, at once, that your luck is positively atrocious. Like, honestly, how the fuck did this happen to you? You can’t make sense if the madness.

He drags his knuckles along your cheek, stroking it. You feel his index finger trace the outline of your lips. Instantly, your heart sinks. On cue, he hums.

“I bet these can suck dick better than they talk shit,” he remarks darkly. “Wanna find out?”

You don’t, but he does.

“Take off your jacket, or I’ll crumble it off with the first two layers of your pretty skin.”

He takes away his hand to allow you space. The way you understand it, if five of his fingers make contact with your body, you’ll begin to fall apart. You’ve seen footage of what he’s done to heroes who have defied him. It causes you to wonder why he’s chosen to torture you, of all people.

The answer lies in his discovery of your social media account. Before he saw what you look like, he was content to merely leave you a little scare. Then, he started diving into your life, going through each and every one of your photos. It turns out you’re quite the socialite. You with your friends. You with your family members. You with animals. Food. Music. Video games. With all these posts, he was granted a perfect snapshot of what it is you do. And now, he wants to watch everything you ever loved decay.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” You hiss, daring to make eye contact tact with your stalker. “Don’t you have better things to do, you fucking freak?”

You spit the last two words with as much vitriol as you can muster. He doesn’t miss the effort you pour into your distaste. He rewards you with a callous cackle.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He cooes, scarred lips contorting into a smile. “We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

You lick your lips. You can’t recollect if you referred to him by name. Everything is a rapid blur.

“Shig.” He prompts you. “You’re the first and only person that’ll call me that.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You didn’t consider it overstepping at the time because you didn’t think you were interacting with Shigaraki. You can see how it might have been construed as intimate in his eyes, given your casual use of the pseudonym. The least you can do is apologize. It won't save your ass, but perhaps it will urge him to go lighter on you.

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. "T-to be fair, I—“

“To be fair, I should wrap my hand around your throat and watch you beg me for air as your whole body turns to dust.” He interrupts you venomously. “Take off your fucking jacket.”

You unzip the garment and throw it onto your sofa. Next comes your hat and scarf. You finish his request when you’re in only your sweater, pants, socks, and undergarments. He smirks at the result of your swift labour, drinking in your silhouette. He’s seen enough photos of you outdoors to know what lies beneath the rest. Thirst traps, you’d probably call them. Little did you know they’d be used against you one day.

He removes his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. With a languid thumb, he swipes it to life. He logs into his fake social media account and finds yours. It’s bookmarked as a favourite tab, of course, especially considering how many times he’s used your pics to jerk off. If you only knew how many nights his cock twitched, begging to be sheathed in your soft pussy, you’d probably be petrified.

He grins.

“What were you thinking, posting shit like this?”

He twists the screen around for you to see. It’s a photo of you and your bestie in bikinis. Your hair is wet from spending time in the ocean. You and your friend were vacationing at a beach, and you wanted to look your best. Beside her, your lips are coiled around a lollipop, cheeks hollowed out from sucking on it. A thirst trap? Absolutely. But not for him.

He stares at the image one more time before putting the phone away. His crimson orbs lock with yours. A smirk settles across his lips.

“Get on your knees.”

Your eyelids clamp shut. Wordlessly, you lower yourself to the ground. It feels utterly humiliating. You have no choice but to let him use you. There has to be a way out of this situation, but how? If you’re serious about surviving, you have to cook up an escape route.

Shigaraki nears your submissive form. He wishes he brought something to tie you up. You’d look gorgeous bound for him. Helpless and barely willing is how he likes his lovers.

He wasn’t lying when he told you he gets women. Since establishing the Paranormal Liberation Front, people have been throwing themselves at him. They’re attracted to his power. He doesn’t have an interest in any of them, though; there are better things to do, and more enticing partners to find. You fit the bill quite nicely.

He hovers over you, leering at you with his crotch mere centimetres from your face. His jeans smell like laundry detergent — you didn’t expect that. You guess he’s not as crusty as he seems, with his scraggly hair and raspy voice.

Suddenly, he grasps the back of your head with four fingers and pushes your face against his clothed erection. He grinds it along your cheek, twitching in his underwear, yearning to feel the warmth of your slutty mouth. Soon you’ll serve him, but not yet.

“Look what you do to me,” he groans, lulling his head back. “I’ve been waiting for you to fix this problem. Won’t kill you until I’ve had my fill.”

You shiver. You’ve got to get to fuck out of here. If you can distract him, you can jump out of the window and get help. It’s risky, but you don’t have much of a choice.

He releases you and moves to unzip his pants. Your breath hitches. You don’t want this to extend any longer than it has to — not if you can help it. Who knows when he’ll get bored and murder you? He’s unhinged. The time to act is now.

“Wait,” you mumble. “Sh-shirt.”

Shockingly, he lets up for a moment. You take the opportunity to gesture to the garment you’re wearing. It’s your work uniform. Nothing special. He doesn’t have to know that, though.

“Lemme take this off,” you insist. “P-please. I-I don’t wanna ruin in.”

If you remove your shirt, that’ll leave you in merely a bra and pants. Fortunately for you, Shigaraki isn’t a stupid man when it comes to his own satisfaction. He decides to offer you reprieve. Robotically, he steps back to give you space. He’s seen them from afar; he knows they’ll be impressive up close.

“Hurry up.”

He doesn’t anticipate you being a skillful little idiot.

You roll backwards and stumble to your feet. Bolting towards the window, you’re grateful that he didn’t make you strip completely. The hesitation of humiliation and shame might have prevented you from leaping out from the second floor. It’s with luck that you don’t break anything upon hitting the ground.

Shigaraki lunges for your hair a millisecond too late. He catches himself on the window frame. At the same time, you get to your feet and sprint. By the time he reaches the street, panting and growling with fury, you’ve disappeared; there’s not a trace of you left behind.

He suspects you’re off to alert a local hero or police officer. That’s fine. He doesn’t expect them to believe you, and even if they do, how will they protect you? He can feel his power accumulating; moreover, after the impending procedure that’s set to occur in the coming months, he’ll be unstoppable. He doesn’t mind killing those who get in his way.

Thus, with a heavy huff, he lets you go. You obviously want to play, and he’s a master gamer. He knows you want this just as much as he does. After all, didn’t you grasp that he was serious about finding you as many times as you manage to flee from him — that he’ll keep his pursuit steady until you no longer have the strength to run? You must want to be hunted, like pretty prey reserved only for the best.

You have no idea who you’re fucking with.

#minors dni #tw misogyny #tw noncon #shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #afab reader #fem reader #bimbo reader #shigaraki x bimbo reader

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jasmines-library · 7 months

Note

I’m in love with the angst. Can you do a sister Winchester story where she’s at dinner with John and the boys and she starts choking

Knock it off

Note: Sorry this took me so long to get to! I wasn't 100% sure what direction to take this in so it's a little short i'm sorry, but I hope it's okay.

warnings: Choking. J*hn Winchester (yes he is a warning)

Word count: 1k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

It was an unusual occurrence for the four of you to be in one room at the same time, let alone sat crowded around a dinner table eating something other than diner food or one of those ready made meals that were convenient, but tasted like cardboard and had an aftertaste that stuck around for far too long, But nevertheless, there you were. You were crammed in between your brothers, your knees rubbed up against theirs and your elbows occasionally bumped into each other as you took forkfuls of food.

There was an unmeasurable grin plastered across your face, reaching from one ear to the next. And there was one on your dad’s too. He was treasuring the moment, you were sure. The way his body relaxed into the wooden chair told you that much. With time left over after a hunt that went unusually well, he had decided to cook something so, a quick pit-stop and a few hours later, he had managed to produce a steaming tray of burgers from the motel’s half functioning grill, and whilst it was far from gourmet, and wasn't going to make up for his countless mistakes and poor parenting, or win him any ‘father of the year awards’, it was a gentle step in the right direction.

The sound of the tv playing listlessly in the background was drowned out almost completely by the chatter as you shared stories and memories, laughing at the few treasured moments that the four of you had shared.

You were about halfway through the meal when it happened; suddenly your body was completely deprived of air. You began to work up a coughing fit, spluttering and cutting out the chatter completely as everyone turned to look at you.

Dean deepened the creases between his eyes. “You okay there sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to dismiss him with a thumbs up, but whatever was cutting off your airway wouldn't budge. Gasping for breath, you pushed your chair away from the table clutching at your chest. Your brothers were up in a flash frantically patting you on the back. It felt like hours before the offending piece budged and you took in air selfishly.

A few rouge tears trailed down your face as Sam led you over to the edge of the bed, setting you down gently. He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down your arms as you hyperventilated, now taking in too much air with the thought of running out again persistent in your mind.

“Deep breaths, Kiddo. Deep breaths.” He crouched down in front of you, taking your small hands in his and pressing a gentle kiss to them.

You followed his breathing, inhaling deeply, then holding it, savouring it and then exhaling back out again, until finally your body remembered somewhat how it was supposed to function and your breathing steadied.

Your dad came over hesitantly with a glass of cool water clutched gently in his hands. It was strange that even with all of his years hunting monsters, he still didn’t know how to act around his children when they were in distress. Fear gripped him tightly like a glove, taking over all of his control over his body. So, it took him a few moments to process what was happening before he actually made a move towards you.

“You alright?” He queried as you took gentle sips of water, under the watchful eyes of your older brother, Dean.

You nodded. “Yeah…”

Dean ran his hands over his face and let out a sigh. “Jesus, sweetheart. You scared the crap out of us.”

“Sorry…” You shrugged, pushing your shoulders up to your ears.

Sammy shook his head, tossing his hair around his face. “It was an accident.”

“Just remember to chew your food next time.” Dean quipped. He was always one to make a joke out of a serious situation to lighten the mood. He couldn’t stand the tension, it made him nauseous.

‘

You rolled your eyes and slapped him playfully on the chest. “Not cool.”

He turned his head. “You know I am.”

“Dude.” Sam said, giving his older brother a look. “Shut up.”

“What?! I am!”

He sighed. “If you say so.”

You just chuckled at their antics, glad that your incident didn’t ruin the tender moment between your family. You would always treasure little moments like these, with your brothers being your brothers, even if it meant spending time hauled up in a motel listening to the pair of them bicker. It was a reminder that sometimes, the three of you could be normal if only just for a precious moment.

⛤ MAIN MASTERLIST ⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x injured sister reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x injured sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #dean winchester x little sister reader #sam winchester x little sister reader #john winchester x daughter reader

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over-driving · 8 months

Text

21 question

bang chan x fem! reader

you want chan by your side when having a panic attack but he won't answer your calls. thankfully han is there to distract you until chan finally comes home.

wc: 739 words

warnings: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, crying, hyperventilating, self harm (hair pulling), pet names (baby, babygirl, my love, sweetheart) a couple cuss words, let me know if i missed anything!

"the number you have dialed is-" i hit the red button on my phone screen with shaking hands. i've lost count of how many times i've tried to call chan in the past hour. my sobs and uneven breaths echo off the walls of my bedroom and reach my ears twice as loud. my boyfriend not answering my calls when i need him just makes the tears run down my face faster. my thoughts are running thousand miles a second. going from feeling so alone to feeling like my own boyfriend hates me. it's getting harder and harder to breath by the second as it feels like the room is getting smaller. then, suddenly, the sound of the dorm room closing and heavy footsteps are ringing in my ears. based on the loud rhythm of the footsteps, i can tell that they don't belong to chan. i tuck my head between my knees and tightly thread my fingers in my hair as a way to ground myself and, hopefully, keep myself quiet. i don't want whoever it is that entered the dorm to know that I'm having a panic attack for who knows what fucking reason at this point. i can hear the footsteps get louder as they get closer and closer to my lover's room that i've been hiding in ever since they left for practice this morning. i tug on my hair harder as my tears or faster as the footsteps stop on the other side of the door. there is a gentle knock that sounds three times louder than what it probably was. i put a hand over my mouth to make sure no sobs came out, which is fruitless since whoever is at the door already knows I'm in here.

"y/n... can i come in?" i hold back A choked sob, which only makes my breathing more shallow. why had han come home? were the others on the way? god, I hope so. "y/n? i know you probably want channie-hyung but he won't be home for a another hour... so can i please come in?" now that i know han heard me crying there's no point in trying to keep quiet. i uncover my mouth and let all of my shaky breaths be heard by han through the door. han quickly moves to open the bedroom door and make his way to me. "shit." i hear him mutter under his breath once he sees the state that i'm in, hyperventilating and shaking as i hold myself for comfort.

"what happened?" he whispers affectionately as he sits beside me on the bed and takes my other hand out of my hair gently.

"i don't know anymore." i said, truthfully and quietly, but han still heard me.

"that's okay sweetheart, you don't have to know," he whispers once again while smoothing down my hair, "wanna play a game?"

i look at han with teary eyes questioningly. "what game?" i sniffled.

"how about 21 questions?" han smiled down at me with practically pleading eyes.

i wipe my eyes and nod my head. i know he's just trying to distract me from my anxiety, but who am i to say no.

"okay, i'll start, what's your favorite color?"

"han, you already know that"

"i'm so sorry, babygirl, are you okay?" chan says as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

"it's okay channie, i know you're busy," i reassure him as i wrap my arms around his torso, "hannie helped me calm down"

"i know, he texted me, i'm sorry i wasnt here sooner, baby" chan apologizes again.

"i'm going to end this game of 21 questions here, then" han says as he gets off the bed with a stretch and leaves to go to his own room.

"you hungry at all, baby?" chan asks and i shake my head.

"i am tired, though" i whisper as i lay down in the bed.

"then let's take a nap, my love" my boyfriend whispered back as he lays down beside me.

requests are open !!

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yanderederee · 1 year

Text

Rest,

tw: mild self harm. Comfort post tho.

Baji gave you a pitiful look as tears streamed down your face. Stone solid and eyebrows furrowed. Silent.

“You’re overwhelming yourself-” he started in, but so over hearing the same things over and over again, you practically scream back. “No shit! I can’t catch a break! I literally have nothing to show for all my hard work I’ve done! The phones won’t stop ringing! I hear them in my sleep, Kei!!” You cried, shaking from the anger and stress that’s build up all day.

“I’m literally working my ass off and there’s no quantifiable measure of it!” You cried into your fists, accidentally allowing your muscles to take over when one of those fists came crashing down against your head.

“What the hell stop that!” Baji yelled back, going to grip at the offending fist. But now wasn’t the time. You pulled your fist away from his grip and screamed with all your pent up feelings. “It’s such bullshit! I can’t keep a solid strain of thought for longer than five fucking minutes Kei! I’m more capable than this!”

You had tried to run through your coping techniques. Deep breathing. Venting your emotions. Write them down and burn them. Cry. Running through everything you should be doing adding fuel to your demise. For your job, take applications. Render them. Data entry. Return emails. Answer phone calls. Reply to voicemails. Handle walk-ins. Everything. Everything. Everything-

Without realizing, you were hyperventilating while you curled up around yourself. Shaking and crying openly now. “It’s not that hard Kei! I’m capable! I-I can do these things! So why—“ you sobbed harder, your nails digging so deeply into your scalp, until you were pulling on the strands of hair beneath.

“It’s okay,” Baji spoke up in his deep vibrado. He pushed his thumbs into your palms, releasing the vice grip you had on your hair, assessing for any bruising you may have given yourself. “Being hard on yourself isn’t gonna make the work any easier.”

“You’re taking things at the only pace you know how. Too much too fast.” He knew you were about to retort back when your squeezed your grip around his thumbs, but before you had the chance to do that and push him away again, Baji pulled your head in and circled one arm around your neck. “Calm down first, nothin’ good ever came from solving problems in this kind of state of mind.”

The way he spoke was more order like, but it was comforting. There was no room for argument. No room for doubt or disagreement. He was right. There wasn’t anything you could say to take away what he meant. Baji pulled you in close for a hug, the compression against your body made you realize just how overworked your muscles actually were.

“They’ll hire another smart ass to take some of that work load off of ya. Don’t work on getting everything done, just what’s in front of you.” He consoled you with words you used to give him in your youth.

‘It’s okay to be there for Kazu! But beating up Chi—‘

‘You don’t know shit, shut the fuck up’

‘Oh you wanna play it like that?!’

Even if he was stronger than you, there was no way in hell he could push you around like he normally would. Even when you tackled him down to the ground and practically concussed the poor guy with you shaking him by the collar of his stupid Valhalla jacket.

‘You’re being a dick! Burning the bridge with toman ain’t gonna save anyone from anything! Tryna prove your loyalty?! Give me a break! Your acting might’ve fooled those bunch of bone heads, but you can’t fool me, idiot!’

Tears were streaming down your face at this point.

‘Stop it with these dumb back alley tactics! Would it kill you to be honest!?”

Seeing Chifuyu’s beaten up face really set you into a spiral.

‘You. Don’t. Know. Shit.’ Baji tried spitting back, only for your to yell in his face again.

‘I KNOW YOU KEI! STOP TRYING TO PLAY THE BAD GUY! I-‘

You finally stopped your assault on the poor guy.

‘I know you won’t stop trying to save everyone. That’s who you are… B’but damnit Kei..! You… don’t kill yourself in the process.. please,’

Keisuke Baji has never broke a promise with you. Not once. Not after that day.

You were too important to lose to underhand fightings.

“You’re doing enough.”

“Alright, rest” he ordered finally, pulling your entire body out from its seat across from him, and into his lap. “Take a nap. When you feel up to it, we’ll grab a bite to eat.”

“Just stay here and rest. We’ll get through it. Promise.”

#tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #tokyo revengers x reader #baji #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x y/n #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #tokyo rev comfort #tokyo revenger x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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xo-zozo · 20 days

Note

angsty averyjameson hcs?

ofccc

their first fight was BAD, especially because avery was so new to the relationship thing so she had no idea what to do and just ended up screaming at him

after the plane bombing when avery was still in the hospital, he would always fall asleep in her room until someone (one of his family members) took him home

he didn’t tell avery this until they were dating

speaking of the bombing, when he was there, he would always try talking to her and saying things like, “please be okay, i don’t know what i’ll do without you”

at night jameson tells her that she deserves so much better than him which leads to her hugging and comforting him

before they started dating and stuff, whenever jameson saw her with grayson he was genuinely debating letting him have her because he thought that he didn’t deserve her

whenever someone finds avery having a panic attack, they go and get jameson and he sits there with her and hugs her until she stops hyperventilating

avery has a bunch of nervous habits so whenever she’s biting her nails or something he’ll hold her hand to stop her

other than that, she’d play with her hair, dig her nails into her palms (cannon) etc

he kisses her hands (and face, etc.) when she’s nervous or upset

if he makes her cry he immediately starts apologizing and hugging her

he defends her even when she’s mad at him just because he’s like that 🤷🏻‍♀️

if she’s still mad at him when they go to bed, he hugs her from behind and starts saying stuff to her

a lot of this was actually fluff but whatever 😛

#the inheritance games #jennifer lynn barnes #the hawthorne legacy #avery kylie grambs #averyjameson #jameson hawthorne #the grandest game #the brothers hawthorne #angst #headcannons

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spooky-boi-writes · 3 months

Text

Ao3

“Stop!” Nico shouted, fending Eros off with his bare hands. He sobbed, tears falling to his shirt and arms flailing in panic.

“Face yourself, Nico di Angelo.” The god’s lips sneered at the boy, the blood red shade in stark contrast with the perfect white of his teeth. His golden hair partially covered his bright blue eyes and his beautiful wings fluttered in the wind. If Nico wasn’t being traumatized in the moment, he would have taken a moment to stare in awe of the godly beauty in front of him.

He writhed and scratched and tried his hardest to separate himself from the being. “Please! Please…” his words came out in soft whimpers, exhaustion enveloping his limbs. He felt choked. He felt like the entire world was wrapping a chain around his throat and dangling off of it just to hold him down. The feeling of blood on his hands was vivid except he couldn’t see any.

“You cannot hide.”

“I know! I know I know I know- I tried- I’m still trying- just please-“ he screamed. He yelled and scratched his throat until he was horse and then he kept screeching. He screamed at his grandfather and the boy who wouldn’t hang out with him once he called Ares cute and he screamed at the girls who wouldn’t let him play dolls with them on the playground when he was seven. He screamed for Bianca- for her having to protect him- and for his mother who couldn’t and wouldn’t and for her putting it on Bianca. He screamed at the priest who threw him out of the church for what he said in the confessional.

“I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry- just- please! Let me go. Please.” He tried to wipe his face on his shoulder but was too constrained by Cupid. “Please. I’ll feel however you tell me to. Please.”

The voice boomed.

“Wake up.”

Nico’s eyes were wide open and sheets were trapping him where he lay. Each movement he made felt both distant and hyper-real. Tears sprung to his eyes as he straightened himself up, tearing his blankets and fleeing from his bed. His cabin was dark, lit with nothing but a small sun nightlight Percy had given him. “Thought that since you couldn’t stop staring at Will, that light would help you make it through the night.” He had said, a teasing glint in his eye. Nico rolled his eyes and nudged Percy away. He was used to teasing. He didn’t like it.

He took a deep breath, then another, then sobbed before he could complete his third. He shook, his vision was blurry, and suddenly his usually comfortable cabin became cruel and claustrophobic. The photos that Will had hug up of people Nico should consider friends peered at him demeaningly. As quick as his legs would take him, Nico sprung from his cabin to the middle of camp.

The cool breeze helped him calm his hyperventilating. Above him the stars shone beautifully, but he couldn’t see. His tunnel vision took him to the top of half blood hill. In the tree Festus was resting, and by it the Athena Parthenos looked down on him. His breath caught in his throat and he used their combined shadow to travel to the nearest church.

Our Lady of Victory.

The church towered over him. The mighty and tall doors were locked. He was not welcome here.

He shadow traveled just inside the door.

He exited the narthex, stepping through brown doors and walking along the long isles of pews. At first his steps were slow, cautious, quiet. Then he began to sprint. He didn’t stop until he reached the altar.

He fell onto his knees, hands planting onto the glossy floor.

“F-forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two years since my last confession.” Two years since he found himself on this same floor, bargaining with himself that if he apologized it’d feel less like God hated him. He thought that if he was sorry enough he’d get dinner that night, or a shelter better than the night sky, because that God is a great and merciful god. If he asked for help, and believed, and loved, and feared correctly, he would stop living through hell. He thought if he apologized enough he’d stop loving the way he did.

“I- I have sinned against you Lord, and openly. I have told my friends how I feel and pretended I had pride in offending you. I have acted like I like who I am so they don’t try to fix me.” Tears fell onto the steps in front of him. “I need fixing, Father.”

He paused, trying to chase away black spots in his vision. He sat on his feet, still kneeling, and looked at the sculpting on the altar.

“For-forgive me, for I have lusted, and wanted to defile and sodomize the body you created.”

He had never lusted. It wasn’t true. In his gut he knew it wasn’t. Every time a thought like that entered his mind he had bashed his hands against his skull until it was gone. He went as long as he could without eating to train himself out of it. He wouldn’t let himself look at Will, or even Percy, for days because he knew even the purest thoughts were sins against the almighty. The everloving.

For a moment Will's blonde hair and blue eyes flashed through his mind. In Nico’s brain was the toothy grin and sarcastic personality of the first boy who made him feel human. A scream rang through the church. Statues shook. So did Nico.

Blood fell from crescent shaped wounds in his arms and palms but he couldn’t notice. He felt the eyes of God. He knew he could never be forgiven because he knew he couldn’t stop how he felt.

“Forgive me for these sins and those I have forgotten, for they still affected you, Lord.” A deep breath. “Mio Dio, mi pento e mi dolgo con tutto il cuore dei miei peccati…”

~~~~~

He opened his eyes in his cabin, woozy from the shadows grasping into his skin.

He crawled into his private shower, pajamas still clinging to his body in sweat. He turned it on, cold, and rested against the wall as water splashed harshly down. Slowly he felt the agonies melt away, his clothes heavy with water and his hair dangling in his face. Soon he turned the handle and exited, sliding onto the normal tile floor. As he rose he dropped the heavy clothes and grabbed a towel, drying himself and his hair as he went towards his dresser. He pulls on the new pajamas and lays back down. He didn't sleep at all that night.

He rested his head on his palm, zoning out whatever macho conversation Percy and Jason were having. Nico hadn’t looked at Percy once. But, then again, that’s kind of normal for him, because he can’t stand looking people in the eyes. Will keeps saying he’s autistic. Nico still doesn’t know what that means. All that Jason got was a vague look in his direction before Nico became enamored with his eggs. He squished them with his fork enough to look like he’d at least tried to eat before setting his fork down and hiding his face in his hands. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Jesus! Warn a guy next time, Solace!” He was shaking more than he usually did. They both knew it.

Will swung a leg over the bench next to Nico, straddling the wood. “Sorry Neeks. Can you handle touch right now?” Ever patient Will. Will whose dad had a child with a man. Everloving Will.

“Not right now, please.” Nico still didn’t look at Will. He hid his shut eyes behind his overgrown fringe.

“All good, I apologize for not asking first. Wanna help out in the infirmary?” Even though he was yet to look in his general direction, Nico could feel Will’s smile. “I need your bandage cutting talents to make it through my day.”

“Yeah, sure.” Nico began to stand.

“You can finish your food first, I’m just running over now and wanted to ask.”

“I’m done.” Will looked at Nico’s plate and hesitated.

“You sure, Neeks?” Will could clearly see through the (frankly, bad) facade.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The two rose and headed off.

~~~~~

Will asked if he was okay four separate times during his infirmary shift. Nico said yes every time. Eventually, he was even able to look towards Will when he said it. It hurt every time he denied anything being wrong, but he couldn’t confide in anyone. He didn’t know how to start. He couldn’t bring Will into his sin.

#nico di angelo #will solace #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #hero’s of olympus #jason grace #percy jackson fanfiction #religious trauma #catholic guilt #solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #fanfic #pjo fanfic

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cookie-crumblr · 3 months

Text

The Ghost of New Burrows

Part 4

F! PI Reader X Masked Yandere OC

His Info, 📂☕️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: Fem! Reader, Reader has a vagina, reader referred to as SHE/HER, knife play, alcohol drinking and smoking reader, reader can sing, use of pet names (good girl)

“You’re too good for this underworld, Detective”

He pressed the knife blade harder, creasing your flesh, and you inhale sharply. The scent of him infects your senses, even over the horrid aroma of the now wet, city.

He had spoke so smoothly on that rooftop, but his words burned on the way down like the synth brandy you’re sipping on now.

What does he even want? What does he mean?

22:50 Devon’s Lounge, New Burrows

Your glass clinks as you set it back onto the table. Slow Jazz emanates from the only lit corner of the bar with a solemn piano, some drums keeping the tempo, and a saxophone to sing the wordless melody.

The air buzzes with the chords all around you.

Your mind drifts back to his hand raking through your hair, and how he used that grip to expose your neck. The blade pushed up against your skin. Again, and again that memory won’t stop pestering you.

Blood throughout your body lights up intensely heating from your face down to your core.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you are in public. Not like anyone would notice in this dimly lit place, but you’d rather not show anymore weakness today.

A woman that you know as “Babydoll” sways gracefully onto the stage. Her shimmering, skintight dress perfectly hugs her plump, curvaceous body.

She scans the crowd -though you aren’t sure she can actually see anybody, that is, until she extends her arm out directly to you.

“Is that New Burrow’s favorite PI?” Her smile isn’t malicious, but you know she wants to create a scene for some entertainment. “Let’s give them a show darling.” Her elegance exudes in her every atom, even the words she speaks.

You sigh, trying to un-furrow your brow, and get up, hoping to make it to her in one piece.

Now the once peacefully buzzing air is hushed and filled to almost bursting with anticipation.

Anticipation of your next failure.

You hold your head high, as you reach the stage that felt miles away a second ago, she hands you a mic.

She signals to the band, and they play something you all know in new burrows.

At least she gave you that. You almost let out a relieved laugh, but manage to simply smile at her instead.

“In New Burrows,” She starts singing in tune.

You join in quietly at first to harmonize, “In New Burrows…”

A few lines later and the song picks up into something more, seductive, “So drink up now darlin’” you give the crowd a little shimmy, and hear a patron hoot.

The words flow out easily now, but you’re getting too hot and uncomfortable… When you suddenly have an entertaining idea.

Slowly shrugging off your trench coat with as much grace as you can muster, You keep singing along with her, you throw it into the crowd. You see someone catch it, and whistles ring against your ear drums over the music.

Oh the music,

His hand in your hair…

You can’t help but be set ablaze, imagining your ghost in that crowd. What would he be thinking?

Are you still…

“Too good”?

They like what you’re doing, and that thrills you, you loose a couple buttons of your blouse, and roll your neck.

“What a Good girl… Detective…”

Babydoll claps for you, along with the hungry, and now growing crowd. Your hips sway effortlessly along to the smooth rhythm.

When your song finally ends you bow, hair tousled and your blouse is gone.

Main just an undershirt, skirt, and pumps left you dash backstage, hyperventilating.

All the nerves you set aside for that caught up to you, along with the unsettling thrill of what you just did.

You allow a smile to crease your cheeks.

Though the applause is thunderous, an even louder, single clap startles you back into your body.

With a spin, you now stand face to face with the infamous, Fiorentino, “You…” You all but snarl.

Name: Giovani Marcello Fiorentino,

New Burrows most exalted criminal.

Nobody’s been able to put a stop to him, even though everyone knows the atrocities he orders out.

“I’m hurt, detective.” He places a hand over his heart. “I am here offering a sort of… peace…” He leans closer, without actually touching you, he smells of real cigars, just proving his wealth more, “Come with me to the Mesosphere tomorrow,”

Babydoll returns just in time with your trench coat in her hands. “Fiorentino.” She greets with the perfect grace only she could pull off toward this scum. “She’s already my date for the event at the Mesoshpere, and duet partner that night.” She places her cute hand onto your shoulder.

A/N: I know this part doesn’t actually have geist in it, but i hope it’s still fun to read! ☺️✨ i had fun writing it!

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weak4skz · 1 year

Text

Hope is For Suckers

Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst, idol au

Summary: Han and y/n have been friends since before they remember. But what happens if their friendship is severed by an unfortunate situation and Han goes off to be an idol while y/n is in college. When they connect through a mutual friend, what happens then?

Word Count: 1.3k (sorry it's short I'm just trying to get this chapter out)

CHAPTER WARNINGS: eating disorder, negative self talk/thoughts, body dysorphia, a lot of feelings, panic attack

NOT PROOF READ!!!

THIS IS NOT AN ACCURATE REPRESTATION OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED IN THE FIC

A/N: Sorry for the really late update. I've been really busy and haven't been really motivated to write. I might but HIFS on hiatus until July but idk yet. Thank you for all the support though, I really appreciate it

want2besomeoneelse lixie-jisung-stan jisuperboard mentoslol i-dont-know-me-either mooncallerautumn poisonivy21

this is my current taglist. if your name is in read it means I can't tag you. also please comment if you would like to be added

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

When we pull into Chan’s designated parking spot I’m so nervous I could puke.

“Hey,” Chan says, gently putting a hand on my knee to stop its bouncing. “They’ll all love you just as much as I do. But if you still want to go home I’ll drive you ‘kay?”

“No, I want to meet them.” I force out of my mouth. He just nods and we both get out of the car and begin to walk towards the door. When he opens it, the first thing I notice is the smell of freshly baked brownies. Then, I hear yelling and laughing coming from the living room.

“YOU landed on MY property. PAY ME THE DANG FINE.”

Then I fear another voice scream

“YOU’RE IN JAIL! I’M NOT GIVING MONEY TO A CRIMINAL.”

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY!!!” the first screams.

All of this over a game of monopoly?

“Boys” I mutter with a playful roll of my eyes. “I know right” Chan responds with a small smile.

Chan leads me to the living room. “Hey guys” he greets the six men casually.

“Hey Chan hyung.” one with mid length dark hair and glasses responds. “Who’s that?” he asks, pointing to me.

“This is Y/n. She’s a good friend of mine and older than half of you so show some manners and introduce yourselves.”

“I’m Jeongin” glasses says.

“Seungmin”

“I’m Felix”

“I’m sexy king Hyunjin”

“Man shut up.” the shortest says with a small laugh, “I’m Changbin”

“I’m Minho”

Then they go around again and tell me their ages. But I thought Chan told me they’re were eight members in his group? As I finish my thought, someone bursts in through the door.

“‘Sorry I’m late guys. Oh hi… what’s your name? I’m…”

“Han?”

There is a pause, a moment of silence, and for a second I regret saying anything.

“Uh yea, I’m Han Jisung. How did you know my name?”

“Chan talks about you gusy all the time. I just assumed it was you because you were the only one missing. I’m Y/n''

oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh there is no way HAN JISUNG the man who is (partially) responsible for my villain backstory is the eighth member of Chan’s band

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick” I say, trying to excuse myself from the source of my impending panic attack. I speed walk to Chan’s bathroom and lock the door behind me. Once I get the feeling that I’m safe, I slide my back down the door and sit on the floor, bringing my knees to my chest and burying my head between them. Then I try to regulate my breathing before I start hyperventilating.

Breath in, one two three, breath out. Breath in, one two three, breath out

I repeat it over anad over again until my breathing is as regulated as it is going to get. Then, I get up and fix my mascara and blot away the bits that escaped with my tears.

I walk out of the bathroom and find Chan alone in the kitchen. “Hey Chan, I’m feeling kind of sick so I think I’m going to head home.”

“Are you okay? You were fine when we were at lunch.” he looked concerned. Great, now I feel bad for lying

“I just got really bad cramps out of nowhere. And you know I get crabby wehen I don’t feel very well.” I try to end the conversation quickly so he doesn’t catch me lying. “Oh, I didn’t know you were on your period. I would have just brought lunch to your place. Let me go get my keys so I can get you home, kay?”

My period? Ohhhh, he thinks I’m on my period. Thank God he thought I was on my dperiod because I hadn’t thought that far into my lie. While celebrating that little victory, Han walks into the kitchen.

“Oh hey. I saw you were looking sick and I wanted to come check up on you” he said while grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Yea I just have really bad cramps.” I lied again.

“That sucks,” he started, taking a sip of his fanta. “Hey, I was just wondering if you went to Fairview High School. You kinda look like this girl I used to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I went there. I thought I knew you from somewhere but I couldn’t tell.” I responded. ‘A girl I used to hang out with’ huh. Was I really the only one that was thinking about our relationship for the past seven years. Not gonna lie, that kind of hurt. Because up to a couple moments ago I thought very highly of Han, I still considered him a friend. Because he had been my only friend for so long, I sort of held hope that he would be my friend forever. But I was too naive, I should have known he would forget me. I mean, I’m not that memorable; but I thought I would at least be more than a girl he ‘used to hang out with.’

Not a moment later, Chan comes back into the kitchen with my shoes. “Oh, hey Han. The kids are waiting for you so they can start a new game of uno.”

“Ok. Nice catching up with you Y/N.” I mustered the nicest smile I could at the moment and responded with a bitter ‘you too’ before moving to hop off the counter to put on my shoes.

Chan holds me down by my knees and kneels down to lace up my converse himself. “What were you guys talking about?” he asked after tying the first shoe. “We used to go to the same highschool.”

“Cool, were you guys friends?” Chan asks, now finished with tying both shoes. “I thought so” I mumble, mostly to myself.

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hanjisick · 2 years

Text

yandere skz reaction .. you have a nightmare

warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.

trigger for stalking, murder, written gore, gets a little graphic at minhos part?

a/n some of these might not be as obviously yandere </3 i wrote this late at night too so please forgive me!! i’ll fix it in the morning probably lol. **and the reader is gender neutral!

wc 1.7k

bang chan

the sound of your heavy breathing soothed chan, your chest rising and falling as he held you tightly in his arms. chan had a hard time falling asleep at night, even by your side with no work to be done. his chin would rest on the top of your head as he let himself sink deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

he was zoned out, wide awake with his hands absentmindedly playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie— well, his hoodie, with you in it.

underneath him, you began to stir. immediately paused his actions, holding his breath in fear that he disturbed your sleep. watching you closely, he noticed the way your face contorted into a look of fear.

“baby?” chan whispered with a groggy voice as you dug your face into his chest.

his hands stroked through your hair, finally realizing what had been happening. chan knew that you needed reassurance.

“it was all a dream, love. you’re safe with me in my arms.”

the sound of his voice mixed with his heartbeat against your ear distracted you from the images in your mind. you listened to his words, knowing that he meant everything that he told you.

“i won’t let anything happen to you, ever. i’ll always protect you more than anything in the world, understand?”

lee minho

nightmares were inevitable when your boyfriend was lee minho. you had seen things that no human should ever witness, things that would make the average person faint or at the very least throw up. but over time, your brain began to get used to the twisted reality you lived in, and you stopped being so affected by it.

but these images always had a tendency to creep into your dreams, the place that your walls weren’t quite built up enough to stomach the images of what you’d normally see even in reality. torn limbs, eyeballs, blood, the faces of the dead people you once knew. even so, you were able to stay silent next to your boyfriend’s sleeping body, taking in deep breathes and learning to calm yourself down.

but tonight the dreams were worse than usual, causing you to shoot up in bed, hyperventilating at the images in your brain that you were exposed to.

you felt warm arms wrap around you, minho’s chin resting on your shoulder, “nightmare?”

nodding, you let out a shaky breath and leaned into him, letting him tug you back into his grasp, “do you want to talk about it?”

“no, just lay with me please.” and he did exactly that, not allowing himself to drift back into sleep until you were resting peacefully, watching your face closely to make sure that you didn’t have another unpleasant dream.

seo changbin

“changbin?“ you called out, the room suddenly feeling much more cold than it did when you feel asleep.

panic rose in your voice when he didn’t respond, yelling out again. after the third time, your cheeks were stained with tears, almost convinced the nightmare was true.

you began to let out quiet sobs, calling out his name as loud as possible in a last hope.

it didn’t take long at all for your boyfriend to burst through the door, only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist as he heaved. you could tell he had jumped out of the shower at your first call.

“did something happen? are you alright?” he ran towards the bed, water dripping from his hair.

“i had a nightmare,” your voice shook, “and you died.”

his mind had been racing with so many possibilities that he couldn’t help but be a little relieved at what had actually happened, giving you a soft smile.

leaning down to kiss your forehead, he excused himself briefly to properly dress himself.

once he was back he gathered you into his arms and reassured you.

“i’m just fine, darling. nothing is going to happen to me. i’ll always be right here with you.”

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin wouldn’t even think about waking up in the middle of the night for anyone in the world. nothing is more important than his pillow and the warm bed— except for you.

when you were with him, he was always on high alert, ready to help you with anything you could possibly ever need, even when he was resting.

so when you shook him awake, it only took a few good seconds for him to meet your glossy eyes.

“i had a nightmare.”

without any further words, hyunjin gently pushed your face into his neck and tugged the blanket up to both of your shoulders. a hand found it’s way to your scalp, playing with your hair.

you let out a relaxed sigh as his hand dragged down to your back, drawing light shapes on top of your thin t shirt.

hyunjin wouldn’t be able to sleep until your breathing became heavier once again, letting him know that you were peacefully dreaming once again.

he let his hand fall onto the mattress, kissing the side of your head as a silent reminder that he loved you more than anything in the world.

you would always be safe with him.

han jisung

jisung had gotten into a sticky situation. it was the middle of the night, perhaps early into the morning at this point, and he had snuck into the room through your bedroom window. it wasn’t a new thing for jisung to watch you sleep, laying beside you with his hands loosely wrapped around your waist as to not wake you up.

what was new though, was the whimpers falling from your lips as you tossed around, obviously in the midst of a nightmare. jisung had never been more unsure of what to do. should he wake you up and comfort you or would that make things worse? should he let you continue to dream?

he couldn’t bare the look of fear on your face, but if he woke you up, perhaps you’d be even more frightened. jisung settled for gently pulling you a little closer to his body, hoping that he could relieve your distress even a little bit.

to his surprise, your arms wrapped around him, perhaps subconsciously, and your breathing eventually became steady once again.

as a wave of relief washed over him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud that he had helped you calm down. and the feeling of your arms around him was nothing short of euphoric.

“i love you,” he whispered into the air, lightly kissing the top of your head.

lee felix

felix let himself into your apartment using the spare key that you gave him access to. it was late at night and you would be fast asleep in your bedroom, but he still turned on the kitchen light, running the water at the kitchen sink in hopes to scrub off the blood under his nails.

you believed that at times he would just get clingy and sneak in. you thought it was adorable. but that wasn’t exactly the case. felix had a habit of wanting to cuddle after spilling blood for you, almost as a reward for himself.

recently you had complained about a coworker. they had been the reason that you cried every day before work. naturally, felix decided to take care of her for you. so he cleaned the blood off of his hands and slowly opened the bedroom door, only to find you sniffling with your phone in hand.

“y/n? what happened?” you looked up in surprise, dropping your phone as he tackled you in a hug.

“i was just gonna text you,” your arms wrapped around him, head nuzzling into his shoulder and finding much needed comfort in his smell, “i had a bad nightmare about my coworker.”

felix’s jaw clenched, anger rising inside of him. to calm himself, he replayed the memory of ending her life. he wished that he could tell you all about it, but that was most definitely not what you wanted to hear.

instead, he rolled to your side and planted a kiss on your temple, “i’m here now. everything is okay.”

kim seungmin

you were fast asleep on his lap as he scrolled through his phone, doing his best to distract himself from waking you up since he knew that you needed the rest. but he couldn’t stop himself from looking down every few minutes to coo softly at your adorable resting face, snapping multiple pictures that you would have to beg him to delete later.

after a while, he noticed the way you began to lightly jolt, clinging to his sweater a little tighter than before.

“honey?” he whispered, placing his phone to the side and running his fingers up and down your tense arm.

his worry only grew when whimpers escaped your lips, wasting no time in lightly shaking you awake from your slumber.

it didn’t take long for you to burst into tears, setting his heart on fire. a part of him felt guilty for not waking you up sooner.

“you’re awake now, it’s okay,” he would cup your face in his hands, leaning down to place small pecks onto your lips. they traveled up to your nose, and then your cheeks.

in no time, you were giggling, seungmin’s favorite sound in the world.

your boyfriend was willing to go as far as possible in order to cheer you up once again. after all, your distress was his worst nightmare.

yang jeongin

you didn’t want to disturb jeongin’s sleep, so you reminisced back to the terrible dream, sniffling quietly at his side. you had dealt with nightmares alone before, so you tried to convince yourself that it was no big deal.

suddenly, he turned over and faced you, his voice filled with sleep, “what’s the matter?”

you couldn’t contain your tears anymore, letting them spill down your cheeks.

without a word, he sat up, gathering you into his arms to try and calm you down. he didn’t know how to comfort someone from a nightmare, so he hugged you tightly, “what can i do to help?”

there was a moment of silence before an idea hit you. “could you sing me a song, innie?”

his face grew red, thinking of all the reasons why he couldn’t sing for you. he had only just woken up. he wasn’t all that good. but when you pulled away to give him a small anticipating smile, he had to give in.

it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep at the sound of his angelic voice, leaving him to feel quite awkward. what was he supposed to do now? should he keep singing? should he go back to sleep? eventually he decided on the latter, letting out a yawn as he fell to your side.

requested. masterlist. / @hanjisick

#skz #skz yandere #yandere stray kids #han jisung #stray kids #yandere skz #bang chan #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction

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cloudninetonine · 2 years

Text

Being on the run does something for one's psyche. Punishing and slow, it burns away at the spirit until the only remaining this is anxiety and paranoia- of the known, of the unknown, at this point you were afraid of your own Shadow. (And for good reason, after all)

Even with her, the Master Sword strapped securely to your back, you knew you weren't entirely safe, you knew they followed you knew they were hunting you but there was only so kich you could do.

You were a lone person, with only the basics of sword play, scraped from the bottom of the barrel of knowledge and it chilled you to the bone that any move you made could really end to your last breath.

Strayed from life, you found comfort in more secluded areas- the hollowed bases of trees, hidden pockets behind falls of water, the darkest corners of caves. Funny really, places you once grew to fear being your only solace in these times.

Until now that is, laid out within a tiny cave carved in some unknown mountain, just on the verge of sleep after so many days of it evading you-

"Uh, I think I may have found a dead body."

A small kick was laid upon your boot, jostling your exhausted body and sending you leaping into a sitting position within a second, wide eyes focusing on the person who had jumped in a similar fashion, their eyes staring back at you in shock.

Red hair, dark skin, golden yellow eyes-

Ganondorf Dragmire looked down at you with his intimidating near 8ft stature, very much alive and very much real as you laid there, frozen.

A scream echoed through the cave, one you didn't register as your own until it felt as if you were tearing your own throat, clawing back away from the man until your back made harsh contact with the wall behind you.

Ganondorf had stumbled back in horror at your terrified wail, flinching at the intensity but you didn't stop, no, your voice only rose when you heard the sound of multiple footsteps approaching, your hand falling to the Fi sheathed under your cloak beside you and tearing her from her protector, presenting it towards Hyrule's greatest villain.

Eyes hardened at the sight, his hand falling to his own sword hanging from his hip only for another man's voice, muffled from your hysteria but resulting in Ganondorf's deflation. His body distanced itself slowly, a gap growing between the two of you until you finally felt your voice stop, pants still crazed in hyperventilation from pure terror.

When the other voice appeared, carefully waddling around the wall of the wave conventially placed in view of the mouth of the cave, an illusion to those not looking carefully. Your mouth could only manage even more petrified gasps and hiccups, scrambling back into the cave wall in hopes it would swallow you whole and free you from the sight of another Ganondorf rounding the corner.

There were more of them?!

He looked older than the other, an elder man gifted with a great beard that framed his face, eyes staring down at you kinder compared to the other (A trick) His hands were raised as he approached.

"Hello young-" He eyed Fi carefully "Hero"

You didn't correct him, hos wariness of the sword could have possibly been the only thing keeping you alive this long. (Even though she rattled with your jitters, after all you held no courage, that was why you ran)

"I assume from your fear that you know our names- and, unfortunately, you associate them with malice." He talked as if he had said the phrase thousands of times, like it was scripted, not forcefully but definitely something he was used to saying. "I assure you, young hero, you have no quarrel with you."

The other Ganon just stared,watching the scene quietly with his arms crossed over his chest- Though he did glance to his side occasionally, eyes pulling into a glare flat made you nervous.

Was there more?

"Me and my party wish to seek shelter in your cave to avoid the oncoming storm." He kneeled down to your height, not invading your space, but to shave away some of the intimidation that came with his Gerudo size. "We promise not to disturb you, we will keep our distance- may we please stay?"

Options weighed in your mind, too many outcomes that you proffered not to think about beating at your skull and making your head pound in such a sickening way.

Why was he asking? Why was he being...polite? This couldn't have been Ganondorf, Prince of the Darkness it just wasn't possible. A trick? A ruse? But surely the man couldn't keep up such a thing?

Unless...it wasn't?

Your mind reeled back to a familiar set of faces, cloaked in lies and deceit, if they weren't truly what they said they were...

We're these the men who were destined to defeat them?

....The true Heroes?

You were still shaking, the adrenaline was really a drug and not one you had grown fond of as of recently, body still in a state of alarm as you shakily brought down the sword and curled deeper into your dark corner.

The nod you managed was hesitant, heavily so but it was clear enough to bring an understanding smile to the old man's face while he stood, small laboured groan falling from his mouth before he sighed as he popped in back into place.

"Thank you, young hero." The old Ganon gestured to the younger one, a beckon as he waddled away towards the light behind your cave wall, the sound of crackling fire quiet but there. "Come now."

With a last lingering look, the younger Ganon disappeared alongside the other to join his, what you guessed, small group.

You stayed in your little corner, huddled with Fi close to your chest as you finally relaxed. Your hiccups faded, your breath slowed, but your body still shivered occasionally.

Truth to his word, no one disturbed you for the time you stayed awake, only the fire was any real indication they were still there and sift chatter that was incomprehensible thanks to the pounding rain outside. But to be honest you didn't want to know, you didn't care to know, just let your body succumb to exhaustion and darkness fade your vision finally.

You awoke to a bowl sat by your feet.

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New au just dropped

Well, not completely new, discord baddies you know what time it is.

Mess au let's go

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid #cloud rambles #Mess au

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