#so that's also something that could be played with
Note
ur writings are so amazing im inlove w them!! can i request a brother’s bestfriend geto x fem reader? also if it’s okay with u, could u write a lil smut🫣🫣
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND
⋆ mdni. slightly pervy suguru + shy reader, cunilingus, fingering, pussy job, Suguru has a lip piercing, i coulndt help it. you're Satoru's sister or stepsister because mhm I needed a name...
⋆ thank you sooo much for the compliment, love 💕 also sorry this took so long :(
it really isn’t fair.
Satoru really shouldn’t be so cruel and deny the sweet taste of you to his best friend, although of course, Suguru has never made a comment or move to show his real intentions, opting instead to silently stare as you make your ways though your kitchen in those cute shorts of yours.
“don’t look at her, you pervert” Satoru huffs, leaving a slight slap on the back of Suguru’s head, to which the dark haired man replies with an amused chuckle, playing with his bottom lip, feigning ignorance.
“tsk, i wasn’t looking at your sister”
it’s a lie of course, quietly thanking his fashion taste for choosing a pair of baggy pants to cover the growing bulge between his legs, most likely wetting the fabric of his boxers with sticky, translucent precum.
two sets of controllers were held by both men’s hands, often yelling profanities to a tv screen until the sun hid and the moon shone bright, what a pity, really, it looks like Suguru will have to stay the night.
“here’s some blankets” at least this time Satoru is kind enough to toss a heavy blanket onto his best friend’s lap followed by a yawn, much different from the previous times where he left the black haired to his own. and it’s not until Satoru’s side of the couch remains uncomfortably still, that he realizes the blue eyed is —in fact, fast asleep, snoring with his head hanging from the couch backrest.
it’s funny, really, that until Suguru finds himself staring at the ceiling, uncomfortably laying on the other man’s bed, no one was using it either way; but who the fuck falls asleep at 11 pm, on a saturday night.
quiet steps make their way outside the room, greeted by the dark hallway in his way to the bathroom, although, —and almost heavenly, Suguru catches a glimpse of your bedroom at the other side of the hall, door ajar and letting out a little bit of what it seemed like lamp lighting onto the carpeted floor outside.
it’s almost inviting.
his feet instantly turn from his way towards the bathroom, drawn to you like a moth to the flame, “hey” Suguru barely whispers, knocking on the wood before pushing it open enough for his body to pass, “can’t sleep?”
a soft rustle of your bedsheets is what greets him, followed by a surprised look on your eyes and the soft thud of earphones falling next to your body, solely covered by a shirt and those shorts that drive Suguru insane, “it’s a bit too early to sleep” you reply back, a soft chuckle following.
the sound is like a melody to his ears, followed by his own and a gentle hum, “your brother is knocked out” as if invited, the black haired takes a few small steps until he sits at the edge of the plush mattress, palms itching at the attempt of not giving in and wrapping his fingers around your pretty ankle.
with a half lidded gaze he turns towards your phone, held by one of your hands as you curled on your side to look at him with those bright, gorgeous eyes of yours, the screen is flicking, an incoming notification, “texting your boyfriend?”
“don’t have a boyfriend” you retort with a slight chuckle.
and Suguru’s eyes widened for what seems like a millisecond, “i don’t believe you” he teases, shaking his head while subtly, and barely noticeably slides closer to you, the loose black sweatshirt he wore suddenly getting hotter, “a pretty girl like you... without a boyfriend?” his tongue clicks, “something’s wrong with those boys”
the subtle shift of your feet against the mattress doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru, who tentatively press a thumb on the border between your skin and the socks you wore, “it’s not that...” you murmur, and he notices how you’re embarrassed, he’ve known you for quite some time to realize those kind of small details, “just haven’t found the one”
Suguru hums, licking his bottom lip and mindlessly tracing the cold metal of his piercing for a bit longer, his head turns to look at you, “boys your age are so immature” his voice is low, and honestly what a thing to say considering he’s merely four years older than you, “barely getting into adulthood, don’t know how to treat girls like you” a smile spreads through his face as his thumb rubs on your ankle and your throat bobs slightly as you swallow. are you as turned on as he is?, “i bet they can’t satisfy you either, can they?”
upon hearing his words your eyes widen, face burning and yet don’t tear your leg from his lingering touch, intoxicated by the look on his eyes and slowl, purring words, “Suguru... what—”
“it’s just a question, doll” he chuckles, brushing it off with a shrug, a few hair strands falling on his eyes at the tilt of his head, “no need to answer that, i’m certain no one has made you feel as good as you deserve” it’s a test, to check on your reaction to his not so subtle advances.
but you show no sign of discomfort, instead, your gaze turns towards the dresser and mirror on your side, nervously chewing on your bottom lip in a motion you often do while embarrassed, why are you so fucking cute?
just a step closer, “i can, though...” his voice drops even more, sliding his thumb and fingers across your calf and towards the bend of your knee, “make you feel good”
“Suguru...” you breathe, shifting your gaze towards his.
“no one has to know, just you and me”
“Suguru,” you try again, catching his attention that was locked on your almost bare thighs, with a gulp you whisper, ”lock the door”
and that's all he needs, heart skipping a beat and cock twitching in his boxers at the same time he reaches for the door, locking it before climbing over your body this time, hungrily roaming his darkened eyes through your body, “so fucking pretty” he huffs, sliding his fingers under your neck and using a thumb to part your lips, pressing under your bottom lip to finally, finally claim the lips he has been dreaming off, locked on his or wrapped around his cock.
you whine and he’s melting, a soft grunt escaping Suguru’s lips as his tongue slides across yours, fucking your mouth and sucking your tongue lewdly enough to leave you gasping.
you come to realize Suguru is not talkative in bed either, opting to use his hands to roam across your body, and lips to bring out more sounds from your mouth, “do you trust me?”
and you nod, so cutely he needs to bite down slightly on your puffy bottom lip, hair a mess solely from kissing, he wonders how stunning you’ll look while getting fucked.
“good girl” is a purr, followed by Suguru’s lips detaching from yours and finding your neck, gently nibbling and kissing the skin, all the way down to the valley of your clothed chest and belly where your shirt rise; his kisses continue across the band of your shorts before he’s pulling them down slightly, whistling low at the sight of your now drenched panties.
teasingly he nuzzles on your clothed clit, making you whimper and squeeze his head with your thighs, which only makes Suguru chuckle and cock jerk more precum into his underwear.
“i’ll eat your pussy, alright? tell me if it’s too much” what a gentleman he is.
then his eyes are on you, noticing the rise and fall of your chest and glossy gaze, first rubbing your slit through your panties, groaning low at the feeling of your wetness seeping through the fabric, showing the outline of your drenched folds, “Sugu...” you mewl with toes gently curling on the sheets.
a bit more of friction and he could have cum in the spot at how sweetly you say his name.
“i’m here, honey, i’ll make your pretty pussy feel so good” he promises, and like a man truth to his words, his finger slides under the crotch of your panties and slides them aside, another deep rumble comes out at the sight of your pulsing cunt, drooling slick enticingly.
Suguru waits no time at licking your folds, sliding his tongue across the tender and hot skin before swirling your clit, each stroke and slurp a bit harder than the previous, indulging into your taste while at the same time keeping you on the edge due to his slow and measured movements.
you whimper his name again, tentatively sliding your fingers across his soft and long hair, normally held in a bun but now it’s framing his face so beautifully you’re left breathless. your words and the gentle tug on his hair is what he needs to use both thumbs to spread your folds, using one hand to keep your panties aside before plunging the wet muscle inside your sobbing walls, gently massaging your insides with growing intensity.
Suguru can’t help and groan against your pussy lips, lust driven and slightly humping his hips down against the mattress at the same time he fucks you with his tongue, lapping and slurping the delicious nectar coming from between your legs.
soon a finger joins his tongue, and merely minutes later two are pumping inside and out of you, although Suguru was hesitant to depart from your sensitive cunt, he found the movement of his fingers and lips wrapped around your clit was much better to make you scream, and how much he wished you were at his place instead, because he would have never allowed you to cover your mouth with your hands, muffling your sounds for your family not to hear.
“S-suguru, i’m close!” you barely get to squeal through your fingers, a futile attempt to curl over his body and detach his lips from your cunt, one that quickly get replaced by the arch of your back against the mattress at Suguru’s lips sucking harder and fingers curling just precisely to caress the spot that made your thighs twitch.
barely pulling back he groans, “come, beautiful” then his lips are on you again, keeping his pace to bring you to the edge until you’re drenching his lower face.
you cum so hard your vision goes black, breathlessly moaning a bit louder than allowed, hopefully your brother was still asleep, yet through the orgamic daze you manage to catch a glimpse of Suguru’s smirk and messy hair, wiping your slick on his lower abdomen before releasing his cock from underneath his clothes, hard and flushed, dribbling breads of precum.
fucking you it’s too risky, and the idea of leaving you to fetch a condom from Satoru’s room is not even a possibility, especially with the way you look like you’re about to pass out, but it’s fine, Suguru is patient.
he kneels between your legs, gently cooing at your questioning whine, and sliding your panties barely aside, then guiding his tip to your slit, snuggled between your dripping folds as he starts to thrust, cockhead smacking wetly against your clit and up to the front of your panties where a creamy patch grows, “fuck” he huffs, gripping on your thigh to spread you open and increase his thrusts, fucking himself with your pussy lips, “sorry, princess, I can’t hold it” he attempts to joke, but his gaze is focused on your cunt, while yours is on his ethereal Suguru looks, flushed and biting on his bottom lip to muffle his moans.
it doesn’t take him much to cum with a shudder, embarrassingly quick but that’s just the effect you have on him, completely staining your underwear with cum that drips down your slit and Suguru is about to groan, fighting back the urge to coat his tip with the sticky mixture and guide it inside your needy pussy, but alas, he’ll bring protection next time.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#suguru geto#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#suguru smut#suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut
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I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise.
Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted.
Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes.
When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old.
It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone.
Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven.
I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds.
So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat."
Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.
Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith.
Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him.
It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine.
Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred.
And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity.
No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes.
Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil.
Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.
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Part Five
Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)
You call Meredith when you get home.
You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.
How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.
"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."
"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"
"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."
"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.
"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."
"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."
"That works."
"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."
It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.
"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.
"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."
The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.
Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.
But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.
You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.
You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.
Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.
“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...
“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”
"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"
"You won't return any of our messages."
"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."
"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.
"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.
Dammit.
"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."
"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.
"Why not?" He countered.
“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”
He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.
You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.
God...
That felt good.
You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...
You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending#angst#grovel#jealousy
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Sleepy!Reader X Pushover!König?
Konig kidnaps a sleepy girl who doesn't give a fuck that she is kidnapped. A dream come true.
You are quite cranky when woken up prematurely - so Konig dims the lights in all the rooms. Makes his bedroom soundproof not only to silence the sounds of your screams but also because he doesn't want to wake you up suddenly. He has the grace of an elephant in a tea cup shop, so he learns how to be soft, quiet, just for you. A warm hand rubs your hair, allowing you to lean into the touch. Konig smiles each time, kissing you softly. You murmur something in your sleep, looking absolutely adorable.
Konig almost rethinks breaking your ankles so you could never leave the bed again.
He resolves on a half measure - chaining you to a bedpost, occasionally letting you out for a bathroom break or some light stretching. He used to allow you to take baths on your own, a bit too shy to invade your privacy and a bit of pushover wile obeying your whining, but you fell asleep in the warm water - almost slipped down, almost drowned. Dumb girl, his precious girl - he is watching you like a hawk now, knowing he can't let you be off to your own devices. He doesn't want to call you stupid, but you are silly. You're silly, dizzy, and he is utterly whipped. Hates using his smartphone, but bought the latest Samsung for the best pictures of his sleepy girlfriend.
Konig is enough of a pushover to not fuck you in your sleep - he wants you to be aware, to like it. To press your body closer to his and smile as he pushes his cock even further. You're adorable, really, and Konig wants to see you like him. You allow him to fuck you because he provides everything for you - even kidnapped and chained to the bed, and you find yourself kinda liking the situation. He brings out the best mattress and softest bedsheets, buys you an army of plush toys. Plays with your cunt while you hug one of the pillows, inhaling soft laundry scent. This is perfect - and you don't have to perform for anyone. Konig likes your bed hair and your sleepy expressions. He smiles when you blush and brings a kiss to your temple before diving in to fuck you properly.
It's almost perfect, really.
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new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)
You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior.
And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.
Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.
Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.
Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself.
He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.
The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any.
There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.
“Are we… alright?” he drawled.
What the fuck. He did not just sound like that.
He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.
Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.
“Okay, Rin.”
That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?
“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.
You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)
“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”
“You so are!”
“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”
There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.
“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”
“Not to you, it’s not!”
A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting.
Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”
“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.
With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.”
“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.
“I’m not childish.”
“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”
Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.
“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind.
“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.
The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit.
They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.
He was now something more, something special.
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.
It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for.
Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you.
It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim.
You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.
Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”
“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.
note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.
#☁️ my ode to you#i have more drabbles like this i am fucking insane about him#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock imagines#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bllk imagines#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi
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🥃Track 6 - Delicate
*oooooo y'all are in for a doozie, Logan finally breaks*
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Logan watched you from the other side of the club. Currently, he was still on a high from the 1-2 a couple of hours earlier. But now, he could actually live in the feeling. He had a dopey-kind-of smile as your head leaned back when you laughed at something that Lewis had said. Under the pink and blue strobe likes, you were hypnotizing, and Logan was just another man under your spell.
“You’re staring,” a voice sounded in a sing-song tune. Logan knew exactly who is was and rolled his eyes. He looked down at his drink.
“I’m allowed to stare.”
Charles just clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure mate. You kissed your teammate, but only watching her, it’s kind of creepy.”
Logan hummed before turning to face the Monegasque.
“So it’s not creepy when you get to stare at him?”
Logan’s eyes flickered to Max, who was currently in a deep conversation with Liam Lawson. Charles’s head followed in that direction.
Even under the strobe lights, the American could tell that there was definitely a blush rising on Charles’s face. He laughed as the man sputtered.
“Non! It is different too.”
The blond’s eyes held a teasing glint.
“So you’ve never. . . ?” Logan trailed off as he swished his drink around and raised his eyebrows. Charles took the moment to return the glint and put his hand up to his mouth.
“A man never kisses and tells Logan,” Charles said and ran his finger across his lips, as to zip them closed.
Logan was about to retaliate, but then his lap was suddenly full. He quickly placed his drink down on the table and his hands found their home on your hips, where you had dramatically placed yourself. He looked up and saw a sheepish look on Lewis’s face. However, when he looked back down at you, you seemed totally fine.
“Not drunk out of your mind I hope?” Logan asked. You quickly shook your head and glared up at the Briton.
“Lewis tripped, fell into me, and then I fell into you.”
A look of realization bloomed on his face and then he smiled. “Well, I don’t mind. Means I get to hold you closer.”
Your face reeled back from where it was and you scoffed.
“When did you become such a smooth talker Mr. Sargeant?”
Logan leaned back into your face, lips dangerously close. “Always been sweetheart.”
The two of you were so lost in yourselves that you completely missed the disgruntled looks of Lewis and Charles around you. When Charles looked back to the pair, he groaned out loud at the sight of your faces practically smashed together.
“Lewis? Drinks?”
The Mercedes man didn’t need to be asked twice as he swiftly turned around and headed back to the bar. The future teammates wasted no time to put space between them and the table.
Logan’s hands had respectfully stayed in their place on your hips. You, on the other hand, had moved just a bit to be almost fully in his lap. The kiss was definitely more hungry than the one that was shared on the podium.
This one had more teeth, spit, and tongue.
The atmosphere felt electrifying with all the lights and what Logan deduced to be a smoke machine somewhere.
You finally pulled back, out of breath, and leaned your head on your his shoulder. Your hand reached out and grabbed Logan’s drink, taking a quick sip. You felt his hand tighten on you hip as you teasingly played with the little straw it came with.
Logan squawked when he saw that you had practically emptied his drink.
“You couldn’t get your own?” he whined. “I was enjoying it.”
You rolled your eyes. “Well, I enjoyed it more. You want to get another one? I also need pictures for Instagram. Your dark jeans and Nikes look really good, and make your eyes pop. Damn, never see that color blue.”
Logan flushed at your compliment.
“Is it cool that I said that?” you asked as you got out of the booth.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s perfectly fine. Is it chill that you’re always in my head?”
It was your turn to flush. Your only response was to grab his arm to drag him away. Logan went willingly.
It didn’t take long before you two found yourself back at the bar, but thankfully still some ways away from everyone. Lamborghini had made sure that the club wasn’t too crowded and only allowed F1 personnel. However, that still meant that most of the teams could come, including Williams and McLaren.
Logan saw you wince as you were watching the entrance. He felt the same once he saw familiar people waltz in like they owned the place. Which wasn’t true, but Logan didn’t know the owner. He quickly grabbed both drinks with one hand, and placed the other one on your lower back to guide you to the table that was now occupied with your little group, along with Liam.
He made sure to place you on the inside instead of the end seat.
Max, who had been facing George, could tell that something was off when someone sat beside him. Not wanting to cut his conversation, he quickly glanced at his left, now seeing the two younger drivers. The frowns on your face solidified his wrong feeling. Your faces were close to each other and he could tell that harsher whispers were filling the little space between.
“Max?”
His eyes whipped back to George, who was now frowning. He shook his head a bit.
“Sorry mate. What were you saying?”
“Lando, Oscar, and Alex just walked in.”
Oh.
That was probably the source of yours and Logan’s attitude change. When he glanced back, he was a bit happier to see that you two were now conversing with Liam. However, he could see you trying to wiggle a bit closer to Logan.
It only made sense when a hand clapped his shoulder. It was the hand that was connected to Lando.
“Hey mate!” the curly-haired Briton greeted.
Max smiled as he greeted him back. He might not agree with how Lando treated Logan, but the McLaren driver was still one of his good friends. Over his shoulder, Max saw Oscar and Alex greeting the other drivers. Past them, Pato was awkwardly standing to the side. But Max could see right through him as the Mexican driver kept throwing glances at you.
“Mind if we join?” Alex asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he and the two McLaren drivers took the pull out chairs to sit on. Oscar looked as if he suddenly remembered someone and waved Pato over, telling him to join as well.
Charles felt off about the whole thing. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, but kept a smile on your face to be polite. Logan, on the other hand, was not as good at schooling his expressions has his face had become rigid.
The Monegasque tried to read your lips as you said something to Logan. He knew it was Italian, but the dark setting made it nearly impossible to do so. But when he saw that Logan was scooching to let you by, he stood up as well, making the table now look at him with questioning faces. He glanced at you before explaining.
“I’m thirsty,” he said, ending with a small laugh.
Logan made sure to tell you to stay with Charles as you now walked back over to the bar. Once there was a bit of distance, you sighed in relief.
“All is good petite abeille?” the Monegasque asked as he tried to get the bartender’s attention. You couldn’t even offer an answer and just shook your head.
“Is it Pato?”
“No, it’s . . . yeah, it is.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Your hands cradled your face as you leaned against the bar. “My time at Arrow was nothing short of absolute hell.”
Charles’s head tilted in confusion. “But you won races?”
A scoff left your lips. “You’ve won races and still get hate. Except you’re Charles Leclerc. Ferrari adores you.”
He crossed his arms. “What does that have anything to do with?”
Maybe that last question was a bit harsh as you now looked at him with such a pitiful look. Charles could almost equate your sad eyes to those of a kicked puppy.
“Would Ferrari tell you to lose close to 6 kilos even though you are already under the weight limit? Would Ferrari tell you that they don’t have enough money to get you a hotel, but can comfortably house everyone else? Would Ferrari purposefully not give you upgrades even though you won the last race? Would Ferrari never post you on any social media because you give the brand a bad look? Would Ferrari put you in a sweatsuit under your regular race suit, claiming that it’d be easier for the car to have weights instead of the driver be heavy?”
Charles couldn’t answer.
“The answer to that is all no, by the way. But that’s exactly what Arrow did to me. I lost closer to 8 kilos by summer break. Logan almost had a heart attack when he saw me. I’ve gained it back, but only because of Andretti’s schedule. I passed out after the sweat suit and they said that my body could have given out at any moment during the race and I could have died if I crashed. There wasn’t enough muscle or body fat to have kept me safe.”
Charles wanted to cry. Logan had offhandedly mentioned that you had gone through a lot of things at Arrow, but not to this extent. He even wondered if you were he reason Logan immediately went home after the race before summer, claiming that there was a family emergency back home.
You could see that he wanted to cry, but you didn’t want him. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine now, truly. This opportunity has been the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Charles got a bit closer. “I’m glad that you’re better. Really shows the men that you aren’t as delicate as they think.”
“I’d only be delicate with one person.”
You offhandedly glanced back at the table, seeing Logan looking down at his phone. He was probably on the weather app.
Charles smiled fondly as you were lost in your own moment. You could feel Charles’s eyes on you as you turned to look back at him.
“So, drinks?”
Back at the table, Logan was indeed going through his weather app. There was nothing better to do until you would return. And he was hoping that you’d be back soon before he was dragged into a conversation that he didn’t want to be apart of.
“So Logan, good job today mate.”
The blond froze at the sound of his name escaping from Alex’s mouth. He closed his phone as his head raised slowly. Logan didn’t know why, but Alex talking to him jump started his fight or flight instincts.
Too bad he was a flightless bird.
He tried to give his ex-teammate a smile, but by everyone’s reactions, it probably came out more of a lopsided frown.
“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes flickering, hoping to land on someone safe. Yet, his eyes shot back when he heard a scoff.
“You could be a little more appreciative.”
Logan sighed. Lando just had to say something.
The American turned to the Briton.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he then turned to Alex, “Alex, thank you so much for your encouragement and praise. It really means a lot to me.”
Lando rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You think you’re too good for us now that you have a good car?”
Logan’s phone was now on the table and his body was fully turned toward the McLaren driver. He vaguely saw Oscar elbow Lando’s side, but that didn’t deter the curly-headed boy.
“Says the one who rammed into his teammate in the first corner today. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for F1 Lando.”
Logan leaned back into the plush booth with a smirk. Max fought the urge to snort, but deep down he knew he had to deescalate the situation before he had a fist fight on his hands. He was willing that you and Charles would be back soon, but nothing indicated that you were on your way back.
Lando was now leaning forward, almost across George who separated the two. There was fury in his hazel eyes.
“It’s only one mistake compared to your innumerable. Face it. You had luck for one race. Next one, I’ll be passing you as you’ll get lapped.”
“Lando, maybe we should go?”
Max could hug Pato if he could. He knew that Lando could get snippy and say everything wrong if he wasn’t held back.
It’s a shame that Max didn’t know that Logan also wasn’t one to hold back. The snarky smirk had yet to leave the American’s face. He took the opportunity to also lean in over George. The Briton’s hands were placed on both driver’s chests, trying to keep them apart.
“You’re just jealous.”
Lando raised his eyebrows. “Jealous? Of you? You make. me. laugh.”
And to answer, a chuckle escaped Logan’s lips. The drivers at the table couldn’t tell if Logan was doing this out of spite or not. However, this snapping was just a long time coming.
“Yeah, jealous,” Logan bit back. “Jealous because you’ve been here since 2019 and have no wins to your name. Beaten by your rookie teammate in 2023. Beaten by me, the guy who you said had no business being in Formula 1. Now looking at it, maybe you’re just trying to make up for something.”
Lando had had enough and quickly rose to his feet. Everyone else followed. Max took this time to quickly grab the blond’s arm, gently pulling him back. For Lando, it took both Pato and Oscar to hold him back.
“Logan, that’s unfair.”
Logan’s head whipped to where Alex was standing.
“Unfair? You want to talk about unfair Alex? Then let’s talk about how your car always got upgrades. How I was always ordered to let you pass. How Williams said they’d give me a chance, like the one you didn’t have with Red Bull, but they didn’t. How you botched your race and I had to give up my perfectly fine car for the good of the team.”
The blond was seething and Alex was hunching in on himself. If he couldn’t take it, then he shouldn’t have said anything.
“That’s enough Logan.”
He rolled his shoulders as he glanced at his “childhood friend.”
“You have something to say Oscar? Hm?”
Oscar’s eyes fell to the floor. He knew that fighting with Logan was a lost cause. Because, everything he was saying was 100 percent correct. However, Lando now wasn’t having anything with Logan going after the Aussie.
“Hey!” he got the attention back on himself. “Oscar has done nothing but be kind to you, even when you were undeserving.”
Now, a scoff left Logan’s lips.
“Kind?”
Max could tell that this was the breaking point, as he could see the glint of tears in the younger man’s eyes.
“Any of you were nothing but kind. Do you truly believe that the actions you showed me were you being ‘kind?’ If that’s what you think that word means, I feel sorry for your loved ones.”
Logan’s voice was slowly raising, gaining more attention than that which was already on them.
“Alex? Were you being kind when you left me places that I had no clue where I was? That was kind right? Letting me get back late to every meeting because I couldn’t find my way back?”
Logan wanted to let the tears fall, but like he knew, this had been a long time coming.
“Oscar? Was it kind when you let all of my messages and calls be read or go to voicemail? And then you blame me for not wanting to spend time with you anymore? Because the last time I checked, I had to beg you to even tell you things. That’s kind? I hope you treat your girlfriend better than that.”
Oscar, although he didn’t look down this time, looked close to tears as he felt as though someone was ripping his soul apart. Or maybe, that he had done that and was now paying the consequences.
What Logan or the other drivers missed was that you and Charles had finally come back from the bar and were awestruck with how things were going down. You two did not move, scared to set Logan off anymore.
“Lando? You like to talk about being kind. Kind to yourself and fans and fellow drivers. Was it kind when you told me that I should quit because I simply didn’t belong? Or that I should change careers because maybe then people would like me? Or should I tell the group that you told me to disappear because you wanted Oscar to be more focused on the team and not some childhood friend that he was worried about?”
Everyone looked directly at Lando. Under the strobe lights, people could tell that the Briton was flush red. From anger or embarrassment? No one knew.
Max gently pulled on Logan’s arm, trying to get him away from the group.
“I think they get the point Logan,” the Dutchman muttered. But that did the opposite of what he wanted because the American yanked his arm out from his hand.
“The point? Max? The point is that everyone treated me like absolute shit! Even you. Even Charles. Even Lewis. You all want to be better, treat me like a friend but all the harsh words don’t just go away with a follow on Instagram or one paddle game mate.”
From beside you, Charles had the decency to at least look ashamed. You didn’t say anything, and just bit your lip.
Logan pointed at George, the tall Briton now ready for his turn. But it never came.
“George was the only driver to actually give a shit about me. And, no offence, but he was doing the bare minimum. But that small bit meant the world to me.”
You could tell that Logan was losing it. You didn’t look at Charles as you handed him your glass. Thankfully, he took it with no argument.
Logan flinched when he felt your arm tug his. The blond’s head finally felt in exhaustion.
He had bared his heart and soul to a group, who in reality, still didn’t care much for him. But what was done was done.
“Time to go,” you whispered. With a nod from Logan, you reached over to grab your bag. On your way past Max, you quickly thanked him for the time before shit hit the fan. The Dutchman could only give a small nod as you kept Logan in front of you.
You almost breathed a sigh of relief when you got past the drivers. But Lando had to run his mouth one more time.
“Sargeant?”
Logan froze before slowly turning around to look at the McLaren driver. Deep down, he was hoping that some sort of apology would come tumbling out of his mouth. Yet, it was the opposite.
“Stay out of my way.”
The blond male, who had been exhausted, found a little more energy to respond. He faintly smirked as he looked over his shoulder to respond.
“We can’t make any promises now,” he stated before looking down at you, “can we babe?”
pheonix95 has posted
phoenix95 isn't it delicate?
liked by tswizzlef1, venus2, y/n.nation, vogue, and 1,204,094 others
bee_lamborghini ayo the club looks fire 🔥🔥
lambo_duo am I the only one nervous as to what went on during the part?
lambo_fanclub no, so am I . . . but they posted which means they're ok tho? 🤷♀️
venus2 only delicate with you baby 😙
pheonix95 is it chill that you're in my head?
venus2 should be cause you never leave mine 🥰
paddle_sixtet no likes from Charles, max, lewis, or George?? 😭
venus&pheonix you both deserve the party and everything else!
ferrari+lambo i am now a child of divorce
venus2 has posted
venus2 this ain't for the best, but my reputation's never been worse so...
liked by lambo_duo, Dior, formulala_delulu, and 1,940,294 others
f1_gridgang seems like y/n has one move for a party 🤣
swift_on_track the delicate lyrics this weekend >>>>>
lambof1 no likes from the usual 4 on Logan's post too
my_goat_logan WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FAMILY 🤨
phoenix95 gonna love you for you ❤️
venus2 aw, you're being nice ☺️
pheonix95 I can take it back....
venus2 NO - ahem - I'm good ❤️
loscar_no_more if I find out that something happened between some certain drivers, it's on sight 😤
sargeantgirlie I don't want to believe the twitter page, but the lack of comments with the other four makes me nervous
ferrari&lambo_crew God, please bring my family back plssss 🙏
logan.nation unapologetic Logan is everything to me
pheonix&venus THE SECOND PIC OH MY GOSH
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis
#logan sergeant x reader#logan sargeant fic#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant#f1 x driver!reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x you#grid dads lestappen#future grid dad lewis#grid bestie george#reputations fic#Logan finally breaks#but it's a good thing#lando is still an asshole#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 edition#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you
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Thank you
Dear AFTG Fandom, Friends, and Family:
To say that it has been a tremendous honor would be an understatement. I am immeasurably proud of what this account has become and it’s due to every single one of you. Your passion for this account was the driving force at the end and I can’t thank this fandom enough for being a rock in the storm of all of this.
I began this account as both a love letter to a story that has consumed me since I was first introduced to it, but it was also created to prove that I could sustain something for this long and this intensely immersive. During this past year alone I have been dealt hands that were not always the best, but this account kept me above water, even through the many sleepless nights. It energized and empowered me through all of your retweets/re-blogs, likes, and comments.
I also want to highlight and thank all 40 artists that gave me permission to share their incredible work. The scenes came alive due to their immense talent and exceptional hard work. Every artist was kind and considerate, incredibly understanding and just as invested in this project as I was. I truly can’t thank them enough for their trust and support.
Thanks also need to be delivered to my wife and best friend who, without their constant push and patience, none of this would have happened. They were my first followers, my biggest fans, and were Abandoned so many times during the course of this and yet encouraged me to keep going. Maybe now we’ll finally have time to play all those games we’ve downloaded over the last year :).
I also want to thank Nora for…. so many things. For the creation of this story, for the encouragement when this account became so big YOU even saw it, and for becoming a dear friend in the process. You’ve been an inspiration throughout this in more ways than I can say.
And finally, I want to once again, thank all of YOU. The followers, the commenters, the re-posters, the veteran fans, the new fans, the obsessed fans, and the casual ones. Fandom can be such an intrinsic and beautiful thing. Pulling people together and bringing a life to these characters through our own individual experiences. We are all our own Foxes in a way, tied together with the understanding that second chances are immeasurable and the family we make are the best ones of all.
You gave this account a shot. And for that I am eternally grateful.
you were amazing.
🦊 🧡- Kelysium
#aftg#all for the game#neil josten#tkm#the kings men#the foxhole court#andrew minyard#palmetto state university#psu foxes#andreil#on this day in aftg#otdiaftg#palmetto state foxes#otdi all for the game#nora sakavic#the foxes#on this day in all for the game#kevin day#nicky hemmick#aaron minyard#coach wymack#betsy dobson#abby winfield#matt boyd#dan wilds#renee walker#allison reynolds#thank you you were amazing
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𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉!𝑫𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝑭!𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 + 𝑺𝒖𝒃!𝑷𝒐𝒄 𝑮𝑭
𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡!𝐃𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐅!𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐏𝐨𝐜 𝐆𝐅
There’s no doubt this man is ROUGHHH when having sex.
He’s overprotective of you especially when you guys are out and you’re wearing something short and tight.
he hates when you tease, which normally results in him fucking ur brains out.
His favourite thing to do to you when you’ve either, pissed him off, teased him or didn’t do what he asked is edge you.
He gets off watching you beg to cum as he pounding into you with no mercy.
“N-no Chris! Please l-let me cum!”. You’d cry out, already shaking from the previous times he’s edged you.
“Shouldn’t have been acting like a little slut today and you would’ve cum 4 times already”. He groans deep in ur ear continuing to ruin you.
Definitely fucks you in the bathroom at the party and leaves you with cum dripping down your leg.
Leaves you shaking every time, he won’t stop until he feels you either learned ur lesson or he made you feel good.
Loves the sound ur ass makes when he’s fucking you from behind, he’s always touching it, Grabbing it, slapping it all of the above that man loves your ass
Will leave you marked up in hickeys all over ur thighs, tits, inner thighs, as a reminder of whose girl you are incase you forget.
Definitely chokes you while your in missionary / fucking you from behind.
Pulls ur hair but neverrrr where he hurts you
Made sure to establish a safe word
Degrading is his favourite thing, he loves it.
“Fuck- such a little slut, keep making those noises for me yeah?”.
“God ur pathetic, about to cum already?”.
Don’t even get started on dumification.
“Such a dumb whore, fucked out on my cock”.
“Aww look at you, all fucked out from how good I’m making you feel”.
“Wow, I thought you couldn’t get any louder, god you whore”. He’d say this while also trying not to moan because as much he’d never admit it, he loved how you wrapped around him perfectly.
he’d always be quick to remind you who you belong to Like THATS HIS GIRL ( he’s also hella jealous so he’d take you laughing at one of matts jokes, than he’d walk in and thinks your flirting. )
“Your mine right? Or should I call Matt? Seemed to be all over him”.
“can. He. Fuck. Better. Than. Me?”. He’d say all this while thrusting harder in between each word.
“Yeah keep moaning my name baby, let all the neighbours know whose girl you are”.
BIG BREEDING KINK LOVES CUMMING INSIDE YOU
“fuck ma- gonna stuff you with my cum- you’d like that wouldn’t you?”.
“gonna fill your pretty pussy up- shit-“.
The sight of your juices mixed with his could get him off any day
Has a hidden photo album of pictures of you post sex and videos of you screaming his name. Don’t even get me started on the my eyes only.
Loves cockwarming, typically after aftercare he always wants to be close to you.
Despite how rough he is during sex, that man ALWAYS takes care of you after.
Right after you both finish after hell, how many rounds? He’s quick to check on you and sometimes worried he went too far.
“hey baby, you okay? Was it too much?”.
“shh i got you, gonna take care of you now ok?”.
“You did so good for me pretty girl”.
He immediately run you a warm bath with your favourite bath bombs.
He’d clean you up first because he can wait, he’d rather have you feel better than him.
You’re super sensitive after sex so he always takes his time, staring on ur inner thighs first.
“Let me know when it’s too much ok?”.
Despite you secretly loving the rough sex, and you both established that, he would always reassure you.
“Your so pretty yk that?”. He would whisper while helping you in the bath.
“my girl, how’d i get so lucky”.
“Oh and ur definitely not a whore or s-“.
“Chris, baby, I’m okay don’t worry about it”. You’d giggle tiredly playing with the soap.
“I know but ur covered in hickeys like everywhere”. He’d scratch his head.
“Chris please ur back has seen better days”.
He’d go change the sheets to fresh clean ones fresh in the dryer.
Typically you’d want to sleep after so he played those calm noises you like and a glass of water.
right after you dried off with the help of him as you could still barley process what happened, you’d sleep in a shirt of his and a pair of panties.
You’d fall asleep once immediately in the warmth of his arms.
“There you go, sleep well baby”.
tag list ☆
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Physio’s Daughter pt.5
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Read the previous parts HERE
Warnings: cursing
WC: 4.0k
A/N: hi :) enjoy (if you’re reading this the same day it was posted and want to help make a decision on the future of this story go vote on the poll on my feed)
The players ended up with way more downtime than the staff during the week before you all left for Paris they were really only responsible for keeping their bodies ready to play and showing up to get on the plane. You and the rest of the staff had meetings, more paperwork, you all had to pack your equipment away, it took more hours of your time than you had expected.
This meant you had to turn down Jessie on three different occasions when she asked you to coffee.
The first time Jessie shook off the rejection. Not thinking much about it, you were obviously busy with work and didn’t have the time that day.
“I’m wrapping up here. Want to grab a coffee this afternoon?” She stuck her head into your office.
“I would Jessie but I’m not out of here until 5 tonight. Plus should we be grabbing coffee?” You give her a questioning look. You had agreed to friends now, friends grabbed coffee but it felt like a gateway to something more with her.
“Oh, okay, sorry I didn’t realize you had to work so late.”
She shook you off, walking back over to her locker to grab her stuff and leave for the day, having to stop alone for coffee.
She didn’t stop asking, one thing about that girl, she loved to stop by your office and she also loved to get coffee.
“Coffee? Do you have a lunch break at some point?” Jessie’s head once again swung around your office door early in the morning when players were released for a couple hours break before having to return in the evening for film.
You sigh throwing your hands up, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you “I’m supposed to get a lunch but I think I have more travel paperwork to do during that time, I don’t know Kelly from the administration called and-”
“Don’t worry about it.” You notice the tight lipped half smile she gives you. You so badly wanted to say fuck it to the paperwork and go get coffee with Jessie, you’d get coffee with that woman every second of every day if you could. But you had work. You were at work and she was your coworker.
Insistent on getting you to say yes, Jessie offers another plan. “What about tomorrow morning since it’s a later start? Before we come in?”
“Tomorrow I have to be here at normal times, it’s just you guys who get to come in late.” You give her a frown.
“Look if you don’t want to come to coffee with me, that’s okay, just say that though.” Her voice is quiet but she looks frustrated with you. Her eyebrows furrowed, upset lines on her forehead.
“No! Jessie, I do! I do want to get coffee with you, just, this isn’t a great week. I’ve still got a ton of work to get done before we leave. As the newbie on the staff I get all the simple but time consuming work no one else wants. Unfortunately the next few weeks will be just as crazy for both of us.”
“Okay.” She turns to leave “I’m sorry for bothering you.” Before you can really stop her to explain that she’s not a bother and honestly the short chats you get with her are the highlight of your day, she exits the door. And you're left alone in your office, a massive pile of paperwork to still get done.
With only two days left before you had to fly to Paris you were trying to get most of your work done today. You didn’t want to have to deal with work and the stress of packing tomorrow. You curse yourself for not packing sooner. You end up in the office until it’s dark outside checking your watch and seeing it was 7:30 at night. Your mom had left the office two hours ago, giving you a kiss on the head and telling you not to stay up too late.
You focus in, getting tunnel vision on the paperwork, racing through the stack of papers, until your phone goes off.
Jessie Fleming: what time do you have to be in tomorrow?
A text from Jessie has your phone vibrating in your lap. You pick it up and respond, wondering why she would need to know.
You: 5:30
You: Do you need treatment? Is your calf alright?
Jessie Fleming: So the facility will be open at 5:30? Calf is fine but I’m trying to get in some extra recovery and stretching, feeling a bit tight after today's work.
You: Yeah it should be, for all I know I might still be here when you show up.
Jessie Fleming: You’re still there?
You: I am
You: sent an image
You send Jessie a selfie of you, smiling in your desk chair, a significantly smaller stack of papers than she saw you with earlier in the day.
Jessie Fleming: sent an image
The image is her, in what you assumed was her Canadian apartment bed, a soft smile on her face, her head resting on a pillow with light gray cover on it. What also stands out to you is the way her sheet is pulled up, just under her collarbones. You can see her collarbones, she wasn’t wearing a shirt.
You: Why are you in bed this early?
You: Do you sleep shirtless?
You regret hitting send on the second message when you actually see that she’s typing.
Jessie Fleming: That’s professional to ask
Jessie Fleming: But yes
Jessie Fleming: Most of the time
Jessie Fleming: Obviously not when I have travel roommates or anything, but I’m in my own place for the next few days so I’m enjoying it before a lot of hotels with Janine.
Jessie Fleming: And I’m in bed because I’m watching a documentary and I’ve been told to get as much sleep as I can by the training staff at work.
Jessie Fleming: Especially this new young girl, she has been on my case about taking care of myself and whatever, but she’s cute so I gave her a pass.
The mention of Janine has your mind thinking back to the other day, Janine grabbing Jessie and whispering to her before she gave you a look that felt like she suddenly knew everything. You wanted to ask Jessie about it but now probably wasn’t the best time.
You: I sleep like that too, more comfortable
You: I’m sure that girl is just looking out for you.
Jessie Fleming: I know, right? I tried to tell that to so many of my teammates, none of them listen.
Jessie Fleming: stop texting me, go back to work so you can go home.
You: you’re the one texting me
Jessie Fleming: shhhhh
You: 🙄
You put your phone away, putting it on silent so there was no temptation to text Jessie, having no idea if she had responded. You finish your paperwork, finally standing up your back and knees both cracking as you stretch. You check you phone as you walk to the car, seeing it was 8:22. You’d have to go home, get dinner, shower, all to get up at 4:30 to be at work by 5:30.
A message from Jessie sits on your screen. You debate texting her back but you don’t want to wake her if she’s already gone to sleep.
Jessie Fleming: Have a good night, hope you’re not at work too late :)
When you sit back at your desk the next morning you feel deja vu, feeling like you never left. The only difference is there is no longer a pile of work in front of you, you thank yourself for staying to complete it all last night. You lean forward letting your head rest on your desk for a moment.
“Hi!” Jessie comes around the corner of your office, sounding way too chipper for 5:30 in the morning, but then again she was able to be in bed at 7:30. You look up to her to see her carrying two coffees. She approaches you and sticks her hand out offering you one of the drinks. You were so grateful, you had opted for 5 minutes of extra sleep in the morning instead of getting a coffee and you were starting to regret that decision.
“Should you really be showing up to my office with coffee? You do remember what happened last time you did that, right?” You question her, squinting at her across your desk and sending a glance to the wall where she had pinned you.
“Maybe that’s why I’m doing it, maybe I liked what happened last time.” She pauses, tilting her head, thinking back to the memory. “Except not when your Mom walked in, I didn’t like that, that was terrifying.” A quick grimace follows by a smile comes across her face.
“Jessie, we can’t.”
“I know, I know.” She sounds defeated. “I just figured since going out for coffee doesn’t really fit into your schedule right now, I’d just bring it to you. I promise I’m not trying to get anything out of you.” She sits down in the seat across from you.
“How late were you here last night?” Jessie’s phone buzzes on the table, she ignores it.
“Just before 9.”
“Oh wow, I was asleep by then.” You envy her early bedtime.
“Yeah so I am incredibly grateful for this, thank you.” You shake your coffee cup as her phone lights up with another notification. This time your eyes trail to it. You’re not trying to look at her messages but you just can’t help but glance at the lit up screen.
Jessie noticed your eyes' quick movement toward her phone, “Sorry that’s just Janine, I told her I was coming in to do some early recovery and she’s giving me a hard time about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s just teasing me.” She pauses, “about you.” She uses her coffee cup in her hand to point at you.
“Oh, did you tell her? She gave me a weird look the other day, after you came back and we hugged in the training room, you two walked out together and she sort of stared at me. So did you tell her? About the kiss I mean?” Finally getting an appropriate time to ask what was up with Janine’s look.
“It may have slipped out, one of the times I was talking about you. But she’s been teasing me about you since before that.” Jessie looks down to type back to Janine on her phone.
“Jessie!” Her head snapped back up when she heard you scolding her name. Knowing someone else knows about your kiss, someone you didn’t yet know well enough, makes you uneasy. “You can’t just be telling people that!”
“It’s Janine, she’s my best friend, she knows me too well, she knew something happened and asked. I didn't think it would be a big deal, she’s not going to tell anyone.” Jessie defends herself.
“I get that you think that Jessie, but if she slips up, next thing the whole team knows, then it gets out, you’ll get in trouble for sleeping with the student trainer, who’s 4 years younger than you.” You were spiraling, you’re not sure if you believe what you’re saying or if your mom had just scared you into it. You didn’t want your own career to be at risk and you definitely didn’t want Jessie getting in trouble.
“We haven’t slept together, plus you’re an adult, it’s not like I’m 20 and you’re 16! We’re both grown.”
“I know that, but good luck telling that to anyone else, they won’t listen!”
“I really didn’t mean to tell her, it just sort of slipped out and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be an issue.” Jessie crosses her arms across her chest, she feels less warm than usual, less friendly, less inviting.
Only, it felt like it was a problem that she had told people. You weren’t sure why Jessie would think it was okay to go around telling people about your kiss without at least checking in with you. A small bubble of frustration with the woman sitting across from you started to build.
“Jessie, if people find out I could get fired! Sure, it might temporarily make your image bad but you’re too damn good, you’ll stay Captain, you’ll keep getting your call ups, keep being desired by different clubs, it won’t ruin your career like it could mine.”
“Nothing is going to get out, nothings going to happen, it’s not that big of a deal!” Now Jessie is raising her voice at you slightly. She’s leaning across your desk.
“Maybe it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal that to you, but it is to me.” You yell back, thankful that no one else was in at the office yet. You take a breath realizing this argument was not something you needed to be doing at 5:30 in the morning. “You should probably go do your recovery. I have things to get done” You point to the doorway.
“Oh.” It’s obvious the sadness on Jessie’s face and in her voice. A sudden change from her argumentative demeanor. “Yeah, I’m going to do that.” She pushed back from your desk. “I’m sorry.”
You let her walk out without saying anything. She doesn’t close your office door on her way out. Feeling stupid about the argument, you let your forehead come crashing back onto your desk with a loud thud, a lot harder than you intended.
“You okay?” You hear Jessie ask, hearing the sound of your head against your desk from the other room.
“Yeah, all good.” You groan back. You didn’t want her to care and feel the need to check on you. You know you shouldn’t care about he either but you can’t help yourself.
Despite being quite annoyed with Jessie at the moment, you’re unable to look away every time she passes by your door, doing exercises or walking across the room to get equipment. Time goes on and then you hear her digging in the ice cooler, the sound of a plastic bag and some shuffling around.
“Stupid wrap.” Hearing her talking to herself you stand up from your chair, it was your job after all to help with these things. You see her struggling to hold and secure a bag of ice she had made to her calf.
“Let me help you.” You offer empty hands to take the ice bag from her, grabbing the wrap and squatting in front of her to help her get it tight on her leg.
“Thanks.” She gives you a smile, the way she was grinning looking down at you sent a shiver through your body.
“Is it still treating you okay?” You look up at her from where you’re kneeling in front of her.
“Yeah it’s been good, just being overly cautious with it still, that’s why I’m doing all this.” She points down where your hands were wrapping the ice bag. You just nod, returning your focus to what you were doing instead of staring up at the girl’s pretty brown eyes.
You let the silence sit between the two of you for only a second before you break it.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted in the office just now. I think I’m just a little paranoid, we’re adults, we’re allowed to do what we’re doing technically. I just didn’t think you’d be going around talking about me and the fact that you kissed me.” You stand up.
“To be fair, I’m not going around talking about you to everyone, it’s really just been to Janine, she made some comments about you before we had even really talked much, she knows me too well. She knew I was interested, so she made some comments about me finding you pretty to which I blushed and she was onto me right away apparently I’m not great at hiding my crushes.” She looks down at her feet.
“I just freaked out, knowing that someone else knows that you had me against the wall, in my office.”
“If it helps, she doesn’t know I pinned you to the wall.” Jessie’s face is now a bright red. It’s suddenly very obvious to you how close the two of you we’re standing, face to face. It’s apparent that you can make out all the little details of her face, where each freckle sat across her nose and cheeks, you could see it all. Despite still being upset and frustrated with Jessie for telling Janine about your previous kiss, you suddenly don’t care and have the desire to kiss her all over again.
“Jessie.” You stare at her lips while saying her name. You don’t know if she noticed you’re staring, but her tongue runs over her bottom lip, wetting it.
“What?”
“Don’t, what, me. You know what.” Your eyes don’t move from Jessie’s lips.
“No I don’t. You’ll have to enlighten me.” You do, leaning in your hands finding her face you pull her toward you. Your lips meet hers, they’re warm and soft and plump against yours. Her hands find your hips, pulling you against her hard. Her grip is tight, it feels safe. This time you’re able to finish your kiss, both of you pulling away just before you debate sliding your tongue against her lips.
“You really should stop bringing coffee to my office I guess, it always seems to end like this.” You let out once you both breathe for a second. Jessie lets out a soft laugh.
You hear the door to the training room open and you jump away from Jessie, turning to pretend to organize something, finding nothing, everything already being packed up. This leaves you just standing there looking at the wall. You and Jessie both look over to see Janine standing there, coffee in one hand, training bag in the other and a smirk across her face.
“Well you two aren’t suspicious at all.” She says sarcastically as she walks from the doorway further into the training room and in your direction. “I’d recommend actually doing something to make it look like you two weren’t just doing what I think you were.” You can’t read her tone as she speaks to you. “Looking at imaginary things on the wall doesn’t really work as a good cover.” She stops behind you to speak softly only to you. You stay facing the wall, not wanting to turn and let either of the players in the room see how bright red your cheeks are.
“I’m going to go change, I’ll be back in probably 5 minutes, behave yourselves.” Janine says to both of you, she walks away into the changing room.
“Whoops.” You turn back to look at Jessie who is still standing where you kissed her. You both have matching blushes on your face.
“At least it wasn’t my mom this time.” You shrug at her, trying to make light of the situation again.
“I guess,” she shrugs back.
“But seriously Jessie, we can’t keep doing this, we leave for Paris in less than 36 hours. You have to go, be focused, be this team's leader, we can’t, I can’t be distracting you.”
“I know.”
“So that means no more surprise coffees, no more private meetings, like Janine said, we have to behave. Strictly professional from now on. No more of this.” You use a finger to point between the two of you.
“Strictly professional, got it.” She nods at you but her smile tells you she’s not taking you seriously.
“I’m serious this time Jessie.” You try your best to be stern with her.
“So am I.” You were both lying through your teeth, and you both knew it but neither of you were going to call each other out and say anything.
“Or just until the Olympics are over.” You add, hoping she’ll maybe be interested in whatever the two of you were doing come the end of the games.
“Until it's over.” She flashes you a smile before turning to leave, following in the direction Janine went to change. She flashes you a smile before heading through the doors. You move back into your office leaning against the desk.
“Hey.” You jump as Janine flies around the corner of your office door. She walks in closing the door behind you.
“Okay I don’t have a lot of time, but I need to talk to you really quick.”
“What’s up?” You move behind the desk, looking for her file pulling it out. You start to open it and Janine’s hand comes down on it, closing the folder hard.
“This isn’t about me.” She’s staring down at you as you sink back into your chair.
You realized exactly what this was about. “Oh.”
“If you so much as hurt a hair on her head-”
“I won’t.” You interrupt.
“I wasn’t finished.” You nod, letting her finish. “Jessie is a special human and quite frankly she doesn’t need you. She’s perfect on her own, she’s strong and independent and she doesn’t need you, but she wants you, so I’m going to respect that, but please let her focus on this tournament. I don’t know what you two are really doing, she’s been pretty tight lipped, but please. She’s smart but she might not think straight with her crush brain, she might think she can handle starting something with you during this tournament, but she can’t. She needs to be focused. She’d hate herself down the line if she let someone get in her head and mess with her playing. She’s worked her life for these tournaments. This team needs her focused, not distracted because of you.” Janine rants at you.
“I know. We’ve discussed it. I won’t be a distraction to her or to anyone. I promise, I want what’s best for her and the whole team.” You mean it, you want what’s best for the team, and you don’t want to distract Jessie or anyone, you saw how hard they all worked and would hate to be the reason anything went wrong.
“You seem like a good person, and given that Jessie likes you so much, you must be. So I’m going to trust you.” Her hand comes off the file on your desk.
“Janine! Come play Teqball with me!” Jessie hollers through the training room.
“Ahh the queen of Canada awaits.” Janine says, looking at you. She turns to leave, her hand on the doorknob. “Just so you know, I’m serious, don’t hurt her, I’ll make your life miserable.” The way she spoke with still a large smile while telling you she’d ruin your life was slightly terrifying, but very much fitting for her Canadian personality.
“I know.” You just nod. And you did know. It wouldn’t just be Janine coming after you if you messed up with Jessie her entire team would hate you. If you distracted her from the tournament the country of Canada would hate you. You’d never get to work for a Canadian team, you’d never get to live that down. Your nerves build up a bit, even though you had no intentions to hurt Jessie ever, things happen, life happens.
Your spiral of nerves is diminished as you hear Jessie’s laugh carrying through the room. Just her laugh made you smile, your nerves ease. You were in deep, probably in too deep, but there wasn’t anything you could do now, except go to Paris and do your best to just be coworkers with Jessie. You needed to be invisible and not a distraction..
So that’s what you did. Or at least tried to do.
#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#jflem#jessie fleming imagine#woso imagine#woso x reader#canwnt x reader
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Do you ever plan on continuing the Adoptive Son Au?
This wasn't just a mission anymore.
Dick lays perfectly still, staring up at Crowne's bedroom ceiling. Besides him, Crowne is found asleep, and his soft puffs of breath are the only sound to be heard in the room. As always, the other man is curled up facing the wall, one fist under his cheek and the other clutched to the warm set of blankets.
It's something Dick noticed the first night he slept over.
Awake Crowene took up so much space with his commanding aura, steadily leading his team into the future like a king upon a throne—as if he were larger than life.
Asleep, Crowne seemed to grow smaller, a shocking reminder that for all he's accomplished, he too was only eighteen like Dick.
His face softened, and the invisible weight that seemed to be resting on Crowne's shoulders vanished once he slumbered. It surprised Dick, the first time he watched him sleep, to see how gentle the man could be. How innocent he appeared.
It was a reminder of how inexperienced Crowne was regarding relationships.
The mission had gone on longer than he'd ever planned it to. Dick was worried about how far he was going to go with the honey pot aspect, even with his suggestive comments and more daring flirtations. None of his other missions have gotten so far, always stopping at a few cuddles and kisses.
Thankfully, Crowne hesitated to go further. He had agreed to the hotel room, leaving Drake with Nancy for the night, and as Dick was desperately trying to think of an escape as they climbed up to the room, Crowne had grown more and more angsty.
They had kissed against the door and stumbled their way to the bed with heated breaths and whispered moans, but when they actually landed on the hotel bed, Crowne had sprung away. He had burst into tears, shamefully admitting he wasn't ready.
Dick had been so grateful for the out as he gathered Crowne into his arms and promised to wait till the time was right. He would wait until the CEO was ready, wiping away tears and kissing his cheeks dry.
He gave himself more time by admitting he also didn't feel comfortable moving forward yet, and Crowne looked at him with such tenderness Dick forgot about the mission for only a minute.
Instead, the two somehow ended up chatting the night away, lying side by side, whispering to each other against the pillows. None of what they spoke about was useful for the mission, and yet he found himself holding the little facts about Crowne close to his heart anyway.
He learned about Crowne's insecurities, some of the bullying he endured as a kid, the loving parents he missed, and the sister he lost. He even spoke about his fear of failing Drake or the rest of the people at his company who depended on him, how sometimes that fear of failure would creep in and freeze him in place.
In turn, Dick found himself talking of the circus, whispering what he missed and what life was like before his parent's death.
He shared his role as team leader—though not what the team was—and how sometimes he felt like he was still attempting to find his place in everyone's lives. Shockingly, he even admitted that he feared Bruce would never see him as soon, hiding his tears in Crowne's neck as he pushed out the words.
He never opened up to anyone like that, which terrified him of how far he may have lost himself within the lie.
They fell asleep together that night, curling around each other fully clothed, and it was far more intimate than anything he had ever done with anyone else.
The following day Dick had been able to spot love in Crowne's eyes whenever he looked at him. It made him sick. He tried to not make too much eye contact following this, for they had yet to find the missing children, and he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the devotion of a man he was playing for information.
Now, four months after they agreed to go slow, he slept on the right side of Crowne's bed, which had become his side, watching the snow gently fall outside the window of the new house Crowne had purchased. The mission had far surpassed the expected wait time, as Christmas was quickly approaching, and Crowne had made comments of spending it at Wayne mannor.
He had seen a shopping list with Bruce, Jason, Damian, and even Alfred's names on Crowne's desk, and a couple of gift ideas were written next to them. Because he knew that to Dick, they were his family, and he wanted to make a good impression on them.
The mission had begun in spring, but Dick couldn't find a way to untangle himself from Crowne. He had been heavily involved in the gym Crowne was setting up with Drake, seeing that he adored possibly being a gymnastics teacher more than he ever planned.
Bruce occasionally commented that he shouldn't let himself be swept away by the lie.
He knew the truth.
This domestic bliss he was spending with Crowne was an illusion. It was bound to burst the day they found what they were looking for, but by the gods, Dick honestly thought they were wrong.
They had to be.
Crowne's mysterious rise to power, extortionary science, brilliant business mind, and unexplained funds all pointed to darker, evil intentions.
But Danny? The man's eyes soften by children's laughter. He made silly puns when he wanted to cheer up Dick. He curled around Dick, holding him through nightmares and never asking what they were about.
Danny stepped up for Tim Drake and gave him a home when all signs clearly pointed to the Drakes neglecting their son. Danny was the one who anonymously paid off medical debt, asking nothing in return, not even acknowledgment. Danny was the one who could name all the stars in the sky, yet looked sad when staring upwards.
Danny was the one Dick was in love with, but Danny was also Crowne, and the Bats were gunning to lock him up for the rest of his life.
It tore him to pieces, but Dick pushed himself out of the warm bed. He patted his way to the boxes that still needed to be unpacked. He was the one to convince Danny to buy a house outside the city, knowing the man wouldn't bother to pack appropriately.
This meant he would likely carelessly throw evidence into random boxes—the evidence he needed to finally put him away.
He looked over his shoulder to ensure the other was still sleeping before going through the items. He went through the first five without finding anything, angry at himself for feeling relief until he came across the last box.
Inside were notebooks.
Some date back to the first year Danny was adopted by the Crownes. There were systematic experiments and notes on the portal making, but the worst of all were the files.
Files of the street kids he had moved. With each page turned, Dick found profiles of the kids, where they were found, what they were going through, how they were taken, and where they were placed. There were even several phone numbers of social workers who helped him move the kids about.
A leger of the trafficking ring. All were written in Danny's handwriting. It was a lie, Dick knew, but it was still devastating to realize how evil the darkness within Crowne indeed was.
The very last thing in the box was an engraved ring with Richard Grason on the inside, sitting inside an elegant ring box.
Dick felt sick as he reached up to his earpiece pressing it three times. Bruce picked up with a soft greeting that quickly turned to worry when Dicked choked out through his tears.
"We got him."
#dcxdpdabbles#the adoptive son#Part 5#Angst#Dick and Danny were falling in love#They spent almost a full year togther#Danny wasn't going to propose until a year latter but he saw Dick as his forever#Now the Bats got what they wanted
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Happy birthday! Could you continue the naruto daughter of the homage series?
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6
Naruto doesn’t feel comfortable going back to the tower until the Suna kids have collected their scroll and arrived. Gaara had killed nine people – three teams total – in that time. None of them Konoha, thankfully, but that’s mostly due to her team and Itachi engaging in some creative luring and misdirection. The Konoha Twelve can be redirected outright by one of her clones, but the other leaf genin that she doesn’t know as well have to be lured rather than instructed. Getting their own scroll is more an afterthought than anything else.
They probably should have thinned the herd a little more. Now they’re having preliminary matches, which is just another chance for Gaara to kill one of her shinobi.
Great.
“Is that Orochimaru?” Sakura hisses, looking up at the spectator box. “Isn’t he a missing nin?”
Naruto flickers her glance upward, but she’d already known he was attending. What does surprise her are the two people by his side. “Yeah, but he’s also the Otokage, and one sort of trumps the other. Dad gave up on that one a long time ago, and Sarutobi still likes him besides. That’s not the interesting part.”
Jiraiya sends intelligence back to the village frequently enough, but she’s never thought she’d seen Tsunade back in the village.
~
Orochimaru is already bored.
He barely attends chunin exams when they’re in his own village. But Kabuto had given him an interesting report, and he hasn’t seen Minato in something like fifteen years, so he figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, Anko is proctoring a portion of the exam, and she always complains that he doesn’t visit.
Jiraiya found out, somehow, which was bad enough, but then the traitor told Tsunade, and the two idiots insisted on coming with him for some reason.
Probably because they were worried Minato might try to arrest him, which is frankly insulting. He can and will kick that kid’s ass if he has to.
Hm. Maybe that’s what they’re intending to prevent, on second thought.
Minato’s daughter has her father’s coloring and her mother’s bone structure.
“I’m surprised she’s made it this far,” Jiraiya murmurs.
Kushina throws him an irritated glance, but the white knuckled grip she has on her armrests seems to imply she agrees with him. Minato doesn’t look at either of them, not that he’s looked at Kushina at all. There’s really no point in them playing the part of happy couple in front of foreign ninja if they can’t commit to the deception.
“She’s got a solid stance,” Tsunade says. “Don’t need working chakra coils for that, I suppose.”
Minato’s lips thin, but he keeps his silence.
“Gaara of Suna versus Rock Lee!” shouts Hayate, pausing to cough halfway through.
Orochimaru leans forward now that something interesting is finally happening.
It’s not as immediate of a bloodbath as he thought it’d be. Lee holds out, demonstrating a mastery of taijutsu truly can make up for an awful lot. He fiddles with the weights on his wrist, but then he glances up. It seems as if he’s looking at his sensei, who’s shouting encouragement, but standing just to the left of them is Team Seven.
Naruto’s lips tug down at the side and she shakes her head just slightly, the movements so small thar Orochimaru wouldn’t notice them if he wasn’t focusing on her.
Lee’s shoulders droop even as he backflips to avoid another deadly arm of sand. He’s not even close to exhausted, and he’s lasted longer against Gaara than anyone else has, but he raises his arm and says, “I surrender.”
Everyone is stunned, an air of disbelief surrounding them.
Gaara acts like he hasn’t heard, more sand barreling for Lee. Hayate moves to interfere, but he’s a lot slower than that sand is.
There’s a smudge of yellow across the arena, there and gone, taking Lee with it.
Orochimaru turns, expecting to see Minato’s seat empty, but he’s still there, eyebrows raised.
He frowns, looking back down, and Naruto is back out of the arena, putting Lee back on his feet. “It seems you didn’t hear him!” she shouts, grin so wide her eyes are slits.
“I didn’t know you taught her the Flash,” Jiraiya says.
Kushina stares between her husband and her daughter, eyebrows pushed together.
“Yes,” Minato says stiffly, “well.”
Interesting.
It appears Kabuto’s report was accurate.
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hii!! ur writing has a choke hold on me!!🤯anyways, im so deprived of some comfort rn- could you maybe do something related to aftercare? For ex: Alastor comfort after a bit of degradation was taken too personally from reader :> (maybe some comfort while bandaging them up too idk)
Literally obsessed w ur shit ur like my fav hh writer, and ty for reading :3
Of course!<3 and TYSM!! That’s so sweet<3 warnings for sexual content, fluff? (Idk what fluff is apparently from my death one shot)
Your Alastor had always liked indulging in a bit of rough and degrading play; but this time he had went to far.
He had crossed one of your boundaries he hadn’t been aware of, calling you a degrading name you weren’t okay with; and as soon as that word left his mouth, you had become stiff.
Alastor had noticed immediately.
Stilling inside you, halting all movements, Alastor could only look in your eyes as he searched for consent within, searched for anything in your expression that still said you wanted him to continue; but he could not find it.
“Is everything quite alright, darling?” His tone harshly contrasted the nasty and rough demeanour he had with you only moments ago; now giving you a loving and soft voice as he checked in on you.
Looking to the side, you avoided his gaze as the word he used on you still pang through your chest. “Don’t call me that ever again.” You had spoken more harshly than intended, with a sharp snap in your tone, verbally indicating your distressed mood.
Immediately, Alastor had pulled himself out of you, only to wrap his arms around your torso, pressing his face in the snuff of your neck as he registered you were referring the to not so pleasant name he had called you as he fucked himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, darling.” He had meant it; truly. The dousing of guilt that consumed him as you emotionally pulled away from him had him panicking ever so slightly. “It won’t happen again.”
Sighing, you knew he had meant his apology, and despite how much the word he used had hurt you, you knew he had no ill intentions when using it; he merely indulged in a bit of degradation that you also found sexually arousing.
Placing a hand against the back of his hair, you tilted your face back to his. “It’s okay love; just please don’t say that again.” You had whispered ever so softly in his hair, only to feel him shiver from your breath cascading down his neck.
“Would you like to stop?” He had mumbled against your skin, asking for your consent to continue the sexual encounter.
“Yes…”
You weren’t in the mood anymore; and as soon as your deny for consent left your lips, Alastor clicked his fingers against one another. On command, the room you both inhabited slowly changed, warping from the confines of your shared room to a familiar one filled with items of pampering; a room Alastor only brought you to after he had made love to you or fucked you.
He had always been a gentleman to you, despite his preference to be less than gentleman-like whenever he pummelled himself into your walls, he always put your pleasure and your needs before his own.
It was something you were grateful for; and one of the many reasons you loved him.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, Alastor began hoisting you up, guiding your legs to link around his naked waist as he carried you to the large, hot bath imbedded in the floor; a bath which mimicked one of a hot tub in size.
Stepping inside, his hooves clicked against the metal alloyed bathing area as the two of you began to submerge within the hot water; it’s temperature relaxing all of your muscles as it began to douse your body.
Alastor had slowly settled you down in the bath, only to take a seat beside you as he held you close, his hands stroking parts of your body as he continued to comfort you.
You believed you would fall asleep if this were to proceed.
“I am truly sorry, my love.” He had spoken with such honesty and vulnerability as he held you, apologising to you yet again, despite doing so earlier.
“It’s okay, Al.” You only responded with a soft sigh as you leaned yourself against him.
“You know I don’t mean those things during our rougher sessions, don’t you, my darling?” He had asked ever so softly and gently, attempting to approach the subject in a calm manner, one that would be proefficient in cheering you up; his beloved.
You had only mumbled a yes, nodding your head as Alastors lips began pressing themselves against your neck. “I know, love. It’s just- that word.”
“It won’t be used again,” He quickly interrupted you. “My perfect little darling, I swear it.” He said between the pecks of romantic kisses he placed against your neck.
The smile that enriched your face wasn’t missed by your lover as you allowed him to pamper you, to echo sweet words of love and loyalties into you skin, to kiss sweet gestures of love along your body.
You were blessed to have such an evil man be your darling sweetheart.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#reader insert#x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader smut#alastor smut
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bite the hand (e.m.)
pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader
summary: things come crashing down around you when you watch eddie from the sidelines of the stage. you know you shouldn't leave but you beg eddie for forgiveness anyway.
warnings: (unedited) more angst folks i think i'm going through something, established relationship, swearing, tears crying sobbing (for eddie but you too babes x), i use face and features too many times but we move
wc: 2.0k+
note: short and (not so?) sweet :) :( i'm really struggling to sustain my writing for very long but oh well xoxo
Here’s the best part distilled for you
But you want what I can’t give to you
Your hands are gravity while my hands are tied
He should’ve known it’d get to you eventually. The screams and cries of thousands for him and only him, because as much as he stood, awestruck, by the talent of the others, it was always his name the crowd went hysterical for: Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. They’d chant and sway and go all but rabid when his black mop of hair would peak from around the stage, teasing in that very ‘Eddie’ way that you were all too familiar with when he’d feel a little more playful in bed. His mischievous eyes and quirked lips, tattooed skin and leather-clad thighs. He was the embodiment of a devilish smile, dripping, oozing, even, with sex appeal and charisma.
But it wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him. The two of you weren’t perched on a bench outside of Wayne’s trailer anymore, smirking into the other’s mouth after a particularly strong joint he had rolled from his stash, legs resting on top of him as you were all but sat in his lap. Neither were you the sole body in the crowd of the Hideout, the only one out of the tens of patrons to be hanging onto every rasp of Eddie’s voice, every strum of his long fingers against the guitar.
It wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him, and you knew because of the hundreds of letters he got, every other week on mail day, from adoring fans and sycophants and a few stalkers. You knew because of the way the crowd stretched so far into the distance that you couldn’t see where it ended, the countless bodies moving like a singular mass of pure, unaltered adoration for the man who assured you it’s you, it’s only ever going to be you.
“Penny for your thoughts?” And his voice broke you from the road you were beginning to travel down. You tried your best to force the smile on your lips, and really, you think he knew you were faking it but the giddy energy from the show he was soon going to be playing had already begun to fizzle through his bones and so he ignored it. He took it, instead, for something genuine despite the way it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Only a penny, Munson?” you scoffed at an attempt of playfulness. “I know for a fact you could offer me a lot more than a penny.” He laughed and your belly dipped, even all these years later, when he pressed his lips to your cheek. Eddie Munson might have been a kind of lust personified but he was also the sweetest human being you’d ever known.
“Ah, you’re right. My girl deserves much, much more,” and his lips began their slow descent from your face to the crook of your neck, fixated on that one spot that would have you shivering in mere seconds. He stopped for a moment; face still buried into your flushed skin— “Two pennies then?”
You groaned – “Eddie” -- at his pitiful attempts of humour (but really you loved it), shoving him away even if you didn’t really mean it.
“I’m only kidding, sweets, I’m only kidding!” he cooed at you, soothing your pout until it melted into that smile of yours that he loved to be the cause of as his fingers traced meaningless patterns into the exposed skin at your hip. “Forgive me?” he begged, his turn to pout now.
And it was comical, really, the way you gave into him, whatever doubts you had crumbling at the very feel of him against you, his words forcing whatever walls you were beginning to build-up only moments before to crumble into nothing at your interlaced feet.
“Always, Eddie,” you promised, voice leaving you at barely a whisper. And when you continued, heart thrumming as you waited for his answer, your words wavered: “Do you forgive me, too?”
He watched, confused, as the question left your lips, head tilted like a puppy unsure of his surroundings. “What would I ever need to forgive you for?” he asked, soft.
“Just—do you? Would you? Forgive me?”
He stared into your eyes, a penetrating gaze, begging you for an answer and explanation for your behaviour, but when you remained quiet he acquiesced. “Like you said, sweetheart: always.”
You nodded, that same, tight smile appearing on your features. The sound of a knock on his dressing room door pulled the both of you out of whatever daze hung, limp, in the air, and Eddie moved past you to answer.
“Five minutes to go, Eddie. Need to get you mic-ed up.” You couldn’t hear his answer (probably something along the lines of ‘Be right there’) over the roaring in your ears. The door clicked close again as a warm hand traveled to your waist, turning you in-place. Eddie’s hand moved to cradle your face in his palms, touch cautious like he always was when it was just the two of you. Like you were splintered glass, on the verge of breaking.
“Going to come watch outside, yeah?” And how could you say no to him and his big, brown eyes. So you nodded, followed him through the corridor leading towards stage left. People rushed around, gathering wires, plugging amps and checking cables with the kind of frenzy you’d never get used to despite having been there for almost all his shows.
Gareth, Jeff and Doug were already huddled in a corner, cheeks split into nervous grins. They waved Eddie over who gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before joining them, face dipping as someone came in to swipe some powder over his face.
You don’t remember what happened after that because the next thing you knew, the band was rushing onto the stage, the arena blacked-out, and the moments the light switched on, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd, bright lights carving out their bodies from the darkness. You edged closer to the stage, only just visible from behind a curtain, when the crowd came into view.
And you hated it, the way your gut twisted, mind reeled. You know if you had just said something, anything, to Eddie when it had begun, weeks ago on the first night of the tour. Someone had slipped a note into your back pocket as you and Eddie pushed through a crowd, security walling you in. But you had felt it, and you just knew what it was going to say.
It wasn’t the first and it wasn’t the last, but you had to applaud its author for the precision with which their words sliced at your very core, holding a mirror up to every insecurity you had ever had (and more you hadn’t even considered) until your hands were shaking, fierce.
When you stared out into the crowd, when your gaze connected with someone right in the front, and a look of disgust overtook them, you felt that lest tether inside of you snap free. The air knocked from your lungs, that same cold feeling of fear dripping down your back.
Eddie must have seen it, he was watching you the entire time, having tuned into your every move since the two of you had left his dressing room. He knew you were acting odd, skittish, like a petrified cat getting ready to flee. So when you retreated, he motioned to Jeff to keep the crowd busy before running off on in search of you.
He called after you, having bulked up enough since high school to catch up with you with ease. When you moved faster at the sound of his voice, he did too, finding you pacing in the haven of his dressing room. He shut the door, locking it, before approaching you, slow, cautious, like the floor was uneven and you on a precipice.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, unsure.
You weren’t facing him so when your shoulders began to shake, he wasn’t sure if you were crying or laughing. But when you turned, face splotchy and chest heaving, he rushed forward, gathering you in his arms.
“What is it, my sweet girl. What’s wrong?” he murmured into the top of your head, holding you tight so that the pressure of his embrace might calm you down enough to talk, to explain or clarify or at least quell the rapid thrum of his worried heartbeat.
“I can’t Eddie, I just—” you hiccupped, voice muffled by the sound of his t-shirt— “I can’t do it.”
“It’s alright, love, just try, yeah? Just—whatever comes to mind—”
“No—You don’t get it—” and you pulled away, the distance between the two of you growing with every moment in more ways than one. “I can’t do this. This thing—” you motioned between you, and he froze.
“You can’t do what?” his voice hardening, on the offensive, and his face contorted to prepare him for the worst.
“Eddie. It’s too much. It’s been too much for so long and I know I should’ve—” a sob ripped from your chest and all he wanted to do was reach for you, his body yearned for it, but he knew better. “—I should’ve said something ages ago. Not let it go so far but it’s too late and you can blame me for—”
“—for what! Us? This? Is that all we are? Some vague abstract of now? Just come out and say it.” he was exploding, erupting, Vesuvius and Pompeii. “Go on. Say it.”
And it was your turn to yell and shout and hurl until your lungs seized. “It’s killing me, Eddie! I feel like I’m fucking dying here. I can’t compete with them, not anymore. I’m exhausted and I feel—I feel fucking heavy.” You were panting from the force of your words, the weight they carried, and you had been carrying.
“There’s no competition, sweetheart. There will never be a competition,” he pleaded, stumbling a step closer but you pushed back.
“I know you feel that way, Eds. I know you do—” his heart squeezed at the nickname. “—I know this is irrational in so many ways. It shouldn’t matter that your fans fucking despise me,” and he flinched at the crudeness of your words. “But there’s one of me and millions—holy shit, there’s millions of them, Eddie. They’re suffocating me and I just—I want to breathe, again. I need to breathe.”
The walls were crashing and crumbling and nothing he said would help to rebuild them, not this time. And he must have sensed it because it was like the air was knocked out of his lungs, too, and he fell to his knees in front of you, clinging to you like maybe if he held on tight enough, he could stop you from leaving.
“Please. My love. My sweet girl. You’re it. You’re always it,” and it must have hit him, what you had meant earlier, because he couldn’t stop rambling, stop repeating: “I forgive you. I forgive you, always, my love. It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re mine and I forgive you.”
Your heart cracked open then, your hand cradling his tear-soaked face to where he was burrowing himself into the pillow of your stomach. You couldn’t bear it anymore, to hear him, see him, touch him, whilst you cut away the pieces of your love. You brushed the hair from his forehead, your own tears falling on him and he cursed himself for making you cry.
You still don’t know if what you did was from a place of strength or weakness, if the way you went about it, with thousands still waiting for him mere feet away, was cruel or kind. But you needed to do it, or at least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself in your head.
That and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie -- your mind chanted.
You were the only audience he ever needed. If only you knew.
As always, reblog + comment if you enjoyed this or want more! Requests are opennnnn :D
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#bite the hand#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n
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so american ; CL16
pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader
summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver
warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF
note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)
instagram !
liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others
youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨
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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful
yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us
youruser but…
charles_leclerc im stealing her
yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks
charles_leclerc whats your point ??
friend2 the states miss you come home
friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????
yourbff i feel cheated on
charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️
youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶
yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…
charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me
friend4 you look so happy😁
instagram !
liked by fan1, fan2, and others
cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!
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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances
fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us
fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco
fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird
fan5 imma steal that dog
fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭
fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk
imessages !
translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’
translation 3: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’
twitter !
instsgram !
youruser added to the story!
charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!
charles_leclerc replied to your story
↳ you always do baby
↳ god you’re so cheesy
↳ i hate you
↳ can we go back home i miss leo
↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours
↳ i know i know
↳ i just love him so much
you replied to charles_leclerc’s story
↳ CHARLIE DELETE
↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭
↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??
↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you
↳ why would you joke about that
↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack
↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me
instagram !
liked by user1, user2, and others
f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.
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user1 she so beautiful oh my god
user2 where’s leo
user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere
user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with
user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser
user6 ooo that could be her fs
user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf
user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass
twitter !
twitter !
instagram !
liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others
charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️
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user1 CHARLES who is THAT
user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️
carlossainz55 whipped
user3 omg is she playing his piano
user4 yes with her feet
youruser love love love you
charles_leclerc chérie💓💓
user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already
user5 who CAREEESSSSS
user6 it’s none of our business
yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD
charles_leclerc are you jealous
instagram !
liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others
youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol
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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him
youruser wdym
yourbff i hate him
yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him
yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING
youruser you sound jealous
yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend
charles_leclerc FRENCH????????
friend1 miss you 🫶🫶
joris__trouche ❤️
friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu
friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous
charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR
charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE
yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls
charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back
yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me
youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️
charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓
youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭
leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️
youruser he misses you 🥰
imessages !
#charles leclerc#charles#leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charlesleclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#cl16 imagine#formula one#f1#formula 1#ferrari#x reader#olivia rodrigo#charles leclerc fluff#charles fluff#cl16 fluff#f1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula one fluff#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#smau#charles leclerc smau#formula one smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau
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≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒆
╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni
tags : pwp (without plot), softdom!rafayel, but also kiiind of switch!rafayel, kissing and making out, teasing, guided masturbation, inappropriate use of a paintbrush, clit play, nipple play, slight overstimulation, slight edging if you squint, thigh riding, praise, cursing, dirty talk, use of pet names "my muse" "princess" "baby", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))
wc : 3.2k
taglist : @zaynesaurora @darlingdummycassandra (+ @seaofgoldensand mwah) | sign up here!
an : guys bc ,,,,,, i swear you never truly realize how daunting it can be to act as an impromptu live model for someone.. until you try it...
You underestimate the intimacy of eye-contact.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
There was nothing but silence in the air, only occasionally interrupted by a tap of his shoe on the floor, or a squeaking of the chair when he moved. There was the tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall, and the faint, hushed sound of delicste brushstrokes on the canvas...
These were the only things you could focus on, if not at the way that he looked at you.
Rafayel's stare was intense.
Anytime he would shift his gaze from the canvas and back to you; anytime you'd catch the way his eyes would take in the shape of your figure...
You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; this was just part of the process. He was only being professional, after all—of course an artist needed to look at his model!
...But it was less about what he felt; this was something that you, yourself couldn't take.
"Eyes up here, princess," came his voice, the familiar sing-songy tone to it triggering a bout of butterflies.
You were torn, somewhat.
You wished you could wipe that knowing smile right off of his face, but simultaneously felt that you could cave underneath even just that stupid, stupid gaze of his.
...And you knew that you had brought this upon yourself.
Whatever bickering had started with his whine about a "lack of inspiration" and a roll of your eyes in response, had settled with you offering to be his model.
You even recalled how surprised he was, the concern that etched on his features—
"Hm? But it could take a while, you know. Might be uncomfortable for you to sit for so long."
You figured it couldn't hurt. You were willing to get through it if it meant finally bringing your partner out of his rut, and in turn, his willingness to paint you—when he had sworn that portraits were never even his thing—felt like a little treat.
However, as much as you believed you'd have the upper hand in this situation, you severely underestimated it.
Now, you sat atop a cushioned chair, assuming a position you were comfortable with holding for a time unspecified. You donned normal, unnassuming clothing, just your everyday top and jeans. And in front of you sat a painter and his canvas, his hands moving tastefully over the piece he crafted, a certain twinkle in his eye that already had you reeling.
Rafayel was painting you, and by all means did nothing about this set up look the least bit intimate to either of you—
But you felt like it was.
It was a private moment, just the two if you in this room, gazes meeting with an intensity that made you want to squeeze something.
You didn't know if you had to owe it to how attractive he was, but staying like this, with nothing else to focus your attention on, you could only notice how pretty he was. Soft, layered hair so perfectly styled into place, his signature low-cut shirt framing his figure so nicely...
And his eyes.
God, his eyes.
Rafayel had the most captivating eyes you'd ever seen—A mix of a deep magenta and cerise, of mulberry and wine... So unrelenting in their allure that though the intensity had your heart beating wildly in your chest, you could never, for the life of you, ever tear your gaze away.
It was visceral.
It sent a tingle down your spine.
You could curse all the memories that would flood to your head just because of it, those images and sensations of your nights together. The way he'd look at you, with lust, and love, such passion imbued with every roll of his hips against yours... This wasn't the time to be thinking of such things, you knew that. They brought an obvious hue of pink to your cheeks that you knew he'd notice, but you almost couldn't help it—
Was a siren's allure truly so confining?
You had nowhere to run.
Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you could almost think this was...
Intentional.
"Little muse, you're blushing."
If you thought it couldn't get any worse, you were clearly wrong.
Rafayel's brushstrokes had paused, and the mirth that danced in his eyes set off all the warning bells that your brain could manage.
"...Shut up, you're imagining things," you mumbled, willing youself to turn your head away from him.
"Ah ah ah~ I'm not done yet, don't move, princess."
And to think that when you'd started, he'd been concerned for you.
Despite yourself, you fidgeted in your seat.
You couldn't take any more of this.
You'd been at it for close to an hour by now, the silence, the staring, the butterflies—
A slight shift in your position made you painfully aware of the wetness that had pooled between your thighs, and you wanted to crawl into a cave.
"Hey. You tired?"
Rafayel was searching your expression, reading you.
It wasn't helping.
"N-no," you managed to nearly choke out, your obvious fluster making your cheeks feel warmer.
And in all this time that you've known him, been with him—you knew that he could put two and two together.
A smirk spread over his features.
You were in for it.
"I'll allow some movement," he hummed, setting his brush down momentarily, "but it looks like you want something a little more... specific..."
"Rafayel, if you don't shut up—"
He grinned.
"Why? We can take a break, yeah? I'm just giving you free space to do as you want."
You watched his eyes rake over your figure, lingering over the way your legs were pressed more tightly together than you'd started with.
"Don't tell me you need me to guide you, princess..."
You wished you could slap that smile off his face.
Rafayel folded his arms, leaning back a little. The shine in his eyes didn't budge even a millimeter; his gaze remained steely on you.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, my muse, I'd say you've gotten a little needy."
You didn't know why you bothered to stay put in your seat, when the paintbrush was not even in his hands anymore.
And he noticed.
"Yeah? I'm right, aren't I?" he chuckled. "So why don't you release some of your stress before we continue? Since you're not getting up, you might as well do something for my motivation..."
The way he gestured towards the canvas, wearing that infuriating little smirk of his, had the heat rushing to your face.
"As if you could take watching me touch myself," you shot back, mirroring his pose and crossing your arms.
You cheered in silent victory at the momentary lapse in his expression, though it settled back into his smile within seconds.
"Mmn... Then we'll have to do something about that later, if it comes to it," he shrugged. "But this is about you, princess."
For a while there was no response from either of you, just staring silently at each other, daring one to make a move—
Until his gaze made you squirm, and he let out a snort.
"Oh, princess..." he started, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not going to touch you when I still intend to get back to finishing this piece. So if you want to use our little break to do something about this... You'll have to do it yourself. Come on, now. Undress for me, yeah?"
He was infuriating.
A menace.
This was karma for all the times you've rendered him speechless, and he was enjoying it.
You clicked your tongue, the challenge in your eyes winning over the embarrassment that stirred in the pit of your stomach.
"Fine! Don't blame me if you'll never finish that painting..."
Frustrated though you might have been, and perhaps, ever determined to pay back his teasing, the look in his eyes remained bewitching.
It was foul play.
Your fingers trembled as you deftly pushed your panties to the side, your jeans kicked down to your ankles, your legs spread. Rafayel had seen you—used you—many times before... But there was something unnervingly intimate about doing this for him, when he was a number of laces away from you, watching, observing.
It was as if you were... a show.
"You're dripping," he commented, voice quiet and low, unable to keep himself from leaning forward as if to get a better look at you.
His words sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You could only shoot him a glare, your blush betraying otherwise the effect that his heated gaze on you had.
"Go ahead, princess... I bet you're aching to be touched."
You almost didn't want to admit it, the way his voice played in your ear so sweetly that your heart could simply burst out of your chest. He made you weak, and you could barely think straight, and he could... see it all.
You chewed on your lip, shakily dipping a finger just barely into your heat, sliding up between your folds with a trail of obvious slick left in its wake.
"Shit..." you cursed under your breath.
You were almost scared to look back up at him, knowing you'd see those god-foresaken eyes again, so heated as they took in your every movement, your every action—
"That's it, princess," Rafayel murmured. "Play with yourself. Rub your clit for me, yeah?"
Your eyes closed as you found yourself doing exactly as you were told.
Soft pants fell from your lips, your middle finger drawing upwards to circle your sensitive nub. Just slow, gentle rubs, easing you into a rhythm of pleasure... You dared to open your eyes, catching the way his gaze remained fixated on your movements, his own eyes darkening, his lips parted slightly.
"You're so wet, baby..." His voice was hoarse now, clearly just as affected by the situation as you were. "Can you put a finger in? Please?"
Your features schooled into a small smile; victorious, in a way, despite your own obvious display of need. "But, why, Rafa?" you teased. "I don't wanna rush..."
The groan that he let out was delicious, and your eyes narrowed in satisfaction.
"C'mon, princess... I wanna see. Do it for me? Just one finger, yeah?"
"You're so easy to get all worked up, Rafa~" you found yourself cooing at him, taking note of his flushed cheeks, the heat in his eyes mirroring your own.You were the one touching yourself, and yet, he was the one begging. It was amusing, in a sense—how just the simplest things reduced him to this sort of mess.
"Just a little taste of your own medicine," you quipped.
But you did as he said, anyway.
The first push of a finger into your cunt had you moaning. The glide was easy, smooth, your walls accepting of your own intrusion, almost aching for even more.
"Fuck... that's it, baby, in and out, just like that."
It was almost amusing to hear him speak that way, so enraptured by the way you pleasured yourself, lost in the thought of you coming undone right in front of him. You didn't need his words of guidance; you knew exactly which spots had you keening, how to gradually bring yourself over the edge. Yet, he would still offer up words of such praise to you anyway, guiding you, telling you what to do, how to please yourself.
And there was something, just something, about the rawness in his voice that got to you.
Your eyes met as you began to buck your hips into your hand, sliding against the cushion, willing to give yourself more stimulation. Your breath fell out in puffs of quick pants, your heart rate accelerating, the pierce in his gaze so daunting and intimidating, yet so... arousing.
"R-Rafayel..."
Your eyes went hazy, unable to bring yourself to turn away from the hypnotic quality of his gaze.
"Keep going, princess, I'm here."
Your fingers moved faster, curling into your heat, emphasizing the obscene sounds of wetness that filled the studio. Your thumb moveed over to brush your clit, your other hand gripping the seat impossibly tighter, and then—
"R-Rafa!" You threw your head back, hips stuttering. "I-I'm close!"
In your peripheral vision you could see him lick his lips, his voice coming out hoarse, full of want. "Yeah? You are, huh? Come on, princess, just a little more. Work those fingers for me."
His words proved enough.
"Shit—fuck—!" A string of curses left your lips. You felt it as the pleasure rolled through your body, eliciting a gasp, causing you to nearly double over.
"There we go. Such a pretty little muse. That expression on your face is beautiful."
His words soothed you from your high, a gentle coo of praise as you took your fingers from out of your wetness. When you looked up at him, he was smiling, hand outstretched as if to beckon you. "C'mere, princess. You did so well for me, let me taste those pretty fingers of yours."
You almost clapped back at him, as if the urge to bicker—to one-up him—rose up just by instinct. Yet, there were those eyes again. That particular look that was magnetizing. It was more than a beckon. It felt like an allure. You were almost certain you'd moved on your own, slow steps into his arms, gently allowing yourself to be pulled onto his lap, the glisten from your earlier orgasm immediately coating the fabric of his pants.
He did as he promised, guiding your fingers into his mouth, looking straight at you with eyes full of lust. His tongue swirled over the pads of your fingers, and you twisted them for him. Watching him suck on your digits, slowly moving them in and out, promising him the taste he so desperately wanted... before you pulled them away with a wet pop.
"Give me one more," he whispered immediately, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "One more, before I finish this painting. Think you can do that?"
You'd nearly forgotten about the painting. It was behind you, your back turned towards it, your eyes only focused on the man before you. You didn't look back—didn't need to, not now. Not when his offer was so... tempting.
"'Kay," you mumbled. Your response was just as instant, your hips moving to glide over his thigh.
But he smirked.
A hand went to your back to support you, hold you in place, and your eyes widened when a clean, unused paintbrush found its way into his other hand.
"R- Rafayel...?"
"Just want to have a little bit of fun," he said breezily, gently trailing the brush from your jawline, all the way down over your collarbone. The sensation made you shiver. "Go on, princess. Don't mind me..."
Don't mind me.
He had the audacity to say that as he let you move all over his thigh, the bristles of his brush leaving a trail of goosebumps with every little stroke on your skin. Just light, feathery, teasing flicks, enough to add to your stimulation... It felt nice, and you'd never admit it to his face, but you could fold.
"You'd be so lovely to paint, look at you," he murmured. And he enjoyed the way your body jolted at his words, the chuckle enough of a testament. "Yeah? You like that idea, don't you, princess? Next time, maybe, I can have even more fun with you..."
The paintbrush began to venture lower, flicking against your nipples.
Your eyes went wide.
"W-wait—!" You gasped, gripping his shoulders, feeling him repeat the motions. Again, and again—the brush circled around your pert, sensitive nub, his gaze turning thoughtful, his little tool giving you more sensations than you knew were even possible.
"Hm? What's wrong?"
It acted like a soft caress, one so foreign to you that it made your head spin.
And he didn't dare stop there.
He must have gotten incredibly worked up, you thought, as he stilled your hips and leaned you back. You could guess where things were going; the way his hand supported your back from toppling into the canvas was firm and determined, your position already having your dripping cunt a little bit more on display for him.
"Look at me, princess," he whispered.
And you felt it—the paintbrush gliding lower and lower, gentle strokes over the skin of your abdomen, pausing just above your clit.
Your breath hitched.
Anticipation hung in the air, your eyes barely managing to stay locked onto his as your face seemed to fume with embarrassment.
"Rafayel," you huffed. "Seriously, you...!"
He circled the brush, a smirk tugging on his features. Feathery bristles brushed against you clit, and you let out a cry. There was a pattern, almost: he'd move the brush gently down the side of your folds, fluttering back up to your nub, pressing against it with a certain kind pressure he knew you always loved... Teasing, always teasing, never lingering for too long in a single spot.
It had you moaning almost immediately.
"What was that, my muse?" he grinned.
You'd never wanted to slap that expression off of his face any more than you did now, yet he had you helpless. You felt like putty in his hands, melting with every movement of his little brush, your thighs tensing over his. You didn't even need to move, anymore; the sensitivity from your previous orgasm had your senses heightening scarily quick, the coil steadily beginning to tighten in your stomach.
It felt as if he'd barely been doing anything.
Just that goddamned brush teasing you in all the right places, flicking against your clit, as he watched you clench around nothing.
"Please!" you swallowed your pride down deep enough to beg, the look in your eyes harboring a frustrated glare of want. "Stop teasing, Rafa, I need...!"
"Yeah? Need what, hm?"
Oh, he was having fun.
"N-need to cum! Need... Need something, Rafa, c'mon—!"
The brush set back aside, and he kissed you.
All tongue, even teeth, just messy, and deep, a pure display of the lust that had taken both of you hostage. His hands were in your hair, your body pressed so close against him, hips beginning to move again over his thigh. A few more soft, hushed, groans, and wet noises of passion, and you were gone.
You felt it snap, pulling back from the kiss only to fall forward onto his shoulder, muffling your moans into his shirt. It was insane, you thought, how he could rip out such a visceral reaction from you, a pleasure so overwhelming as you squeeze your legs over his thigh.
Easing you down, he rubbed soothing circles into your back, hushed words of praise tumbling from his lips.
Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.
"My perfect little muse, so pretty, so beautiful," he sighed, hugging you close. "I can't wait to paint all your greedy desires onto my canvas."
⁺₊ / an: phew!! overdue and i feel like this isn't my best best work, but it doesss represent the chokehold this fish has on me 🙄 a girl's just gotta satisfy her rafayel cravings i guess!!
© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.
#love and deepspace smut#love & deepspace smut#lads smut#l&ds smut#lnds smut#love and deepspace#love & deepspace#l&ds#lnds#lads#love and deepspace rafayel#love & deepspace rafayel#l&ds rafayel#lnds rafayel#rafayel x reader smut#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds#*ੈ♡. rose garden#divider by saradika#✿˖°. roxiefic
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Loser!Ellie Hcs
Imagining Loser! Ellie who makes fart noises with her mouth when you bend down to pick up something, and making fun of you for “farting.”
“Ewww, that one was nasty!”
A scoff leaves your mouth as you stand up, looking back to send a death stare her way to which makes her walk over to you, giggling.
“It’s okay, everyone farts.” she says with a cheeky grin.
An eye roll from you further causes Ellie to full on laugh and wrap her arms around your waist, pressing kisses to your neck.
She would be so silly with it too. Finding different ways to comment on you “farting.”
“That’s some narly tooting there, babe.”
“Woof, another left the cannon!” she says, pinching her nose while actually fanning the air to shooing away the smell as if it was real.
“A bomb just dropped, take cover!”
Imagining Loser! Ellie who invites you over to her house when you first started dating to review her concerningly large comic book collection.
“How do you have some many?!” you exclaim, looking over the many boxes filled with comics.
“I had to do some things to acquire such items that I rather not corrupt your mind with.” she says in a rather poor attempt of sounding suspicious and menacing.
“God, you’re such a loser! you laugh, and watch as Ellie immediately drops the act and turns into a big giant tomato.
A little shy “no” leaves her lips to which makes you smile and lean over to kiss her, “It’s okay, you’re my loser.”
Imagining Loser! Ellie who also has a smaller collection of space related books than the rather getting out-of-hand comic collection.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who has the deadliest grip over the last chicken while sending a death stare your way when you do that one trend on her to see if she’d grab her phone instead.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s laughing to the point there’s tears in her eyes when she suggested the both of you paint each other. And when revealed, hers was very detailed and while yours…’was insteresting.’ Ellie’s words…
Imagining Loser! Ellie who makes fun of people who dress “cringe”, but also wears this.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who write love songs for you in her little journal of hers and even plays them on her guitar. You’ve even caught her once.
Upon walking into your home, you hear muffled talking or singing. Presuming it’s Ellie, you walk into the room to see her with gutiar in hand. Immediately when she sees you she stops what she’s doing and look up, her face turning red.
“Oh—shit, you’re home early…” she says, laughing nervously, settling her guitar aside and greeting you with a hug and kiss as usual.
A little laugh leaves your lips as you return such greeting and ask, “What were you doing?”
She pulls away from the embrace and looks down upon hearing the question. Playing with her pinky and rings finger, she responds, “Oh, ya’ know—just…playing.”
“Just playing? But I heard you singing.”
An audible gulp is heard from the nervous girl as she looks up at you, “I was writing a song.” she finally admits.
A wave of surprise washed over you, “Oh—wow. Can…I hear it?”
“Uhh, maybe later..”
You chuckle and nod, “Alright then, my little musician. You can work on!” you quip.
A nervous smile presents itself on Ellie’s lips, “Shut up.”
Loser! Ellie who does let you listen to the song, but is stuttering and messing up the whole time!—Poor girl, you make her nervous :(—To which earns her a kiss on the cheek and a “You got this, baby. Just relax” To which she actually does! She Some might say it was the kiss that did it.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who has a special spot in her journal fill of doodles of you.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who has mutiple unfinished paintings of you that with time will be finished, just has to find time in her super busy schedule—that consists of sleeping and bothering you—to finished them.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who sleeps with stuff animals.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who HAS to absolutely listen to music when doing anything, literally doesn’t matter it could be showering, dishes, getting ready, etc. There’s music playing.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s a big ‘Savage Starlight’ nerd and actually at some point sent in one of her best fanart to the official insta page, but never got a response. :(
But the girl can’t take failure as a option and is still hopeful saying, “They’ll open my message…eventually.” with a sad little huff.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s screaming from the bathroom when she actually gets a response back!
You knock frantically on the door to realize it when she’s opens the phone and you’re met with her phone being shoved into your face, “Look, Look, Look!
A slight irritated sigh leaves your lips as you look at Ellies phone—which has mysterious residue stains on it—and see the instagram post. Once reading the caption praising Ellie for her work, you look up from the phone and at her, “I thought you were getting killed, Ellie! God…”
“Aweeee, you care about me?” she says, putting her hands on her chest.
“No, I came to make sure they finished the job.” you reply with a cheeky grin.
“Oh wow…well in that case, gimme my phone and get out!” she frowns.
You roll my eyes playfully and chuckle, giving back her phone, “Make sure to flush.” you say, closing the door.
“That was one time!” you hear a muffled shout.
Imagining Loser! Ellie whose phone is filled with multiple pictures of you. Some of you, sleeping, doing chores around the house, cooking—and some with you seeming to be yelling at her in the photo for not helping, and terrible pictures of you that you beg her to delete, but she protests saying, they’re “beautiful” to her.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who steals your chapstick since she always loses her’s within a few days of having it.
“Ellie?” you call out, searching in your nightstand for your chapstick.
“Yeah, babe?” you hear her voice become more clearly as she walks into the bedroom.
“Has you seen my chapstick? My lips are terribly dry…” you huff, unable to find it in your clutter.
“Uhh, no.”
*Imagine her in the background, sneakily swiping your chapstick back and forth on her lips as you annoyedly rummage through your stuff for it.* LMAOOO
Imagining Loser! Ellie who does feel bad and buys you a ten pack of chapstick, stealing one of course for herself.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who buys those princess or even soda chapstick ones.
(Okay i’ll stop talking about chapsticks…😭)
Imagining Loser! Ellie who seems to never drink water, but instead drinks like Arizona, Dr. Pepper, or Canada-dry, etc.
Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s rather disgusting when eating. Having dried up residue on the side of her mouth from dinner which was hours ago only to lick it off.
“Mmm, that burger was good.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Imagining Loser! Ellie who sometimes, but not all the times, thinks about how lucky she is/was to get—or “pull” as she says to her friends—someone like you.
Loser! Ellie who loves you for loving her despite her quirks!
How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE.
a/n; Who wants Dina or Abby hcs? 🤭
Perm taglist: @elliesprettygirl, @dyk3ang3l, @ellies2fingers, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @k1ssesworld
Ellie Only fics: @herelieskrisy, @mikellie , @slaysksmska, @mina-281, @teawithnosugar, @kitkatkittycat111
#𝐘ᱹ writes ✐ᝰ#ellie williams#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams hcs#ellie williams x reader#loser!ellie#ellie williams au#ellie fanfics#tlou ellie#ellie fanfic#ellie the last of us#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams x f! reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie x you#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fluff#ellie fluff#ellie williams tlou2#the last of us#the last of us x reader#the last of us fanfiction#ellie tlou#wlw#lesbian
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