#the way I fucking jumped at the last shot
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jeongin x fem reader
cw: angst (😈), breakup, kissing, swearing, mutual pining, mentions of cheating, kinda toxic/asshole seungmin (FORGIVE ME), not proof read bc why tf would i do that (im too lazy so my apologies if some of it doesn’t make sense lmfao-)
wc: 3.1k
a.n - so this is not how it was originally supposed to be 😭 it started as a seungmin fic but spiraled into whatever monstrosity this is lmao. everyone thank @solisyeah for the request ily. anywho i hope it’s good <3
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Seungmin furrows his brows as he inspects the photo on his screen. A photo of you with another guy, in his lap with your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
Just like you do with Seungmin.
On the very couch he’s sitting on.
At first he thought it was edited, because there’s no way you’d cheat on him, right? But as he took a closer look he just knew it was real.
He was tired, sore, and downright miserable from a rough day at the studio; he had to take way too many breaks for his liking and this picture was just the thing he needed to send him right off the deep end.
He shot up from his spot on the couch so fast it made his head spin, but that didn’t deter him from storming into your bedroom where you were sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. Once you see his face you can automatically sense something’s wrong.
“Seung?” You tilt your head as you watch him take your apartment key off of his key ring before placing it on your dresser with a clink.
“Seungmin what are you doing?” You jump off of your bed as he slides his shoes on. He runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated huff.
“I don’t- I think we just need a break. I need a break.” These words were the last thing you imagined to ever come out of his mouth, in this context especially. Or lack there of.
“Wha- why?” Your eyes glaze over with unshed tears that threaten to spill at any given moment. You don’t want to cry in front of him, you’ve always hated having your raw emotions on display like that, especially in such a powerless situation. “Seungmin, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not stupid.” Seungmin shakes his head “Did you really think you could hide it from me?”
“Hide what, Seungmin?”
“You should’ve just fucking left me. Spared my feelings, maybe. But I guess you’re just too selfish for that.”
Without another word he rushes out of the room, leaving you in shambles with nothing else to do but slide to the floor, curl into yourself and let the sobs take over your body.
Seungmin can hear you crying before he even walks out of the front door, causing his heart to clench in his chest and his gut to twist. Standing with his hand just brushing the door handle, he has to physically force himself to press on, to let you go, to accept his reality. The door slams shut behind him and the noise only pushes you further towards the realization that this is actually happening. You aren’t hallucinating, this isn’t some fucked up fever dream or an even more fucked up prank.
You just wish you knew why. No matter how much you try to put the pieces together, you’re always missing something. You can’t think of anything that could’ve set him off. Everything was perfectly normal less than an hour ago, yet all it took was five minutes to trigger the downward spiral of what feels like the end of the world- the end of your world.
-
“What’re you doing back here?” Jeongin slides next to Seungmin - who is still eyeing up the picture on his screen - on the floor. Jeongin nods towards the phone, “What’s that?”
Seungmin huffs and leans his head against the wall behind him, “I honestly don’t fucking know, I don’t even really want to know, actually.”
Jeongin reaches for the phone, pulling it out of Seungmin’s grasp. His lips part in a silent ‘oh’ as he inspects the photo. He’s assuming Seungmin hadn’t even given you a chance to explain solely based on his reaction, in typical Seungmin fashion. Jeongin turns his body to face the other, his face set in an almost disappointed expression.
“I’m going to say this with the utmost respect and I need you to not cause me any bodily harm-” Jeongin sighs before continuing, “You’re a dumbass. Like the dumbest dumbass I think I’ve ever seen. Like paboracha level dumbass. I’m talking-”
“Are you done?” Seungmin groans and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Are you done? God- you just fucked yourself over. If I were you I’d start praying that she’ll still take you back after all this crazy shit.”
“How did I fuck myself oven when she’s the one cheating? Or am I supposed to just forget about that and take the blame for it all like usual? She brought another guy into the same place I spend almost all my time at, and probably fucked hi-” Jeongin slaps his hand over Seungmin’s mouth, effectively silencing him before he could carry on with his bullshit.
“Hyung. Shut up.” The maknae slowly pulls his hand away as Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Look I get it, you’re tired, you’re upset, you’re angry bu-”
“Can you fucking blame me? I can’t unsee it. I mean, you see how comfortable she looked with him.” he clenches his fists.
“Will you keep your mouth closed already? You’re killing me here, got a massive migraine now.” Jeongin groans and rubs his temples as he speaks “That picture was taken over a year ago. Before you even knew she existed, hyung. Besides, I know her better than anyone ever will, other than you obviously, which is why I suggest that you get your ass up and go apologize for being such a dumb fuck. Beg for her forgiveness if you gotta. Maybe get on your knees while you’re at it.” he sighs and stands, holding his hand out to Seungmin before pulling him up.
“How do you know she isn’t lying to you? How do you know she isn’t lying about anything else?” Seungmin finally says.
“Because she loves you too much to do that to you. God, have you always been this dense? You seriously need to wake up and realize how stupid you sound.” Jeongin mocks, prompting Seungmin to glare at him one last time before walking out of the studio. All the while unbeknownst to the younger standing with a frown threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s a fucking idiot if he let’s her go over this,” he mutters begrudgingly while he listens to the soft pur of Seungmin’s car in the distance.
-
Almost a week later you’re still waking up with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. The first thing you notice is Seungmin’s apartment key still sitting on the dresser untouched. Well, it used to be his. You were really hoping that it was all just a shitty nightmare and that you’d still be tucked in his side with his soft snores being the only sound to fill the room even though it’s days.
You realize what had stirred you awake as another knock fills the almost suffocating silence. You’re half tempted to just ignore it, but something in your gut tells you to answer it.
“Oh, uhm- hi Innie.” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. Or Seungmins hoodie, rather.
God you need to pull yourself together. How could you not even realize what you were wearing. Fuck.
“Hey,” Jeongin rocks back on his heels somewhat awkwardly, “Can I come in?”
You nod and mumble a soft ‘of course‘ as you move out of the way for him to slip past the threshold and into your apartment while you take a moment to collect yourself, and to put on the most convincing smile you can possibly muster.
“What’s up?” you find a spot on the couch next to him as he scans the room for a second, looking for any signs of whether or not Seungmin actually showed.
“He’s not here, is he?” Jeongin turns to you with sympathetic eyes, finding your own longing for comfort, seemingly pleading him for some sort of consolation.
“N-no but he’ll probably be back so-”
“He’s not coming back, y/n. If he was, it would’ve been days ago.”
Before you can open your mouth to protest, Jeongin has you pulled into his strong chest and tucks your head under his chin gently. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” he sighs, rubbing small and slow circles on your back just the way he knows you like. He places a small, chaste kiss on the top of your head because he’s learned over the years that the action relaxes you and makes you feel secure.
Jeongin knows you like the back of his hand. Sometimes he thinks he knows you better than he knows himself. He knows your favorite food, your favorite season, your favorite movie. He knows how much you love to read, having periodically skimmed your shelves for books you may have and promptly buying you ones that you haven’t already buried your nose in.
Most importantly, he knows exactly what to say in order to subside your bad moods (he’s well seasoned in this field), and that sometimes you say things you don’t mean yet he never - and will never - hold that against you.
He knows just how much you loved Seungmin, not even wanting to imagine the amount of absolute heartbreak you’re feeling. Despite all this, he can’t help but feel somewhat relieved. You and Seungmin undoubtedly wouldn’t have worked in the long run and that’s exactly what you desire and deserve: a stable, long term relationship where you’d be taken care of and treated like the absolute goddess that Jeongin thinks you are.
He just wishes you give him a chance to treat you like his- more so than he already does now.
“Thank you, In,” you mumble into his chest.
“You don’t need thank me, baby. You know I’m always here.”
You did know that, you’ve always known that. Jeongin doesn’t let you doubt how much he cares for you, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you if he has to.
You pull back slightly to look into his eyes. “I always end up burdening you with my problems.” Jeongin’s eyes soften at your apology and all he wants to do is hug and kiss and cuddle you until he thinks he’s convinced you enough of his adoration.
But for now all he can do is settle for words, though he can’t help but think it won’t be enough.
“Baby, please don’t be sorry for that. What kind of best friend would I be if I never listened to your complaints or rants?” Calling himself your best friend took more out of him than it should have and he tries to hide his hesitation. Thankfully you hadn’t noticed.
Hearing Jeongin say this makes you realize that he’s treated you better than any boyfriend you’ve ever had. Seungmin never reassured you like Jeongin does. Actually, now that you think about it, Seungmin didn’t do half of the things Jeongin does, even if it was the bare minimum.
He’s always like this, but why does it feel different now?
That’s just his personality, right? There isn’t any hidden meaning behind his words or gestures. Or the way he’s holding you and speaking to you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had contact with. The sudden urge to reach out and cup his face is unreal. You just want to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You wonder how you managed to find such a perfect person who thinks the world of you just as much as you do them. Someone who loves you just as deeply and truly as you do.
Wait what?
You’ve singlehandedly scared and confused yourself all at once now. Obviously you love him and he does you, but it feels as though you love him in a different way. A special way, one that you don’t think you’ve ever felt for anyone. Not even Seungmin, who you once thought was hands down your soulmate.
What you failed to realize, however, was that your soulmate has been here the whole time, and he’s holding you in his arms like he never wants to let you go.
You cut off your train of thought because he doesn’t want you like that and you’re making assumptions that could get you hurt.
Too late.
Another wave of sadness that has nothing to do with what upset you earlier washes over you.
“Baby? Hey, where’d you go?” Baby. Fucking baby. He’s got to stop calling you that. You want to tell him to stop, so why can’t you open your mouth and form those simple words.
“Mhm, ’m okay.” You can’t even bring yourself to put the tiniest bit of distance between your bodies.
You mentally scream at yourself for sounding so noticeably pathetic. He must think you are how could he not when you’re making it so painfully obvious.
“Don’t hide from me, baby. You know you don’t need to hide anything from me.” How ironic.
“I’m not- I just-” you huff and lean your forehead against Jeongin’s chest. God, when did he get so…buff? Has he always been like this?
He pulls your head back to force your gaze to meet his. “What did I tell you, hm? Talk to me baby. I’m all ears.” His arms encircling your body is the last straw before the world comes crashing down on you.
Tears flood your vision and you aren’t even sure as to why you’re crying this time.
Pathetic and dramatic. Great.
Jeongin immediately thinks he’s overstepped now, he took it too far and made you uncomfortable. He removes his hands from you immediately though the action kills him inside, when in reality you want the exact opposite. You want him to pull you closer, you want your chest flush against his to the point where you can feel his heart beating.
“I’m sorry, Innie. I’m sorry.” You finally climb out of his grasp and step away from him. He follows you and with every step he takes forward you move backward until you collide with the wall.
“Why are you sorry when you didn’t do anything wrong? I don’t want you apologizing to me for no reason. If anyone should be apologizing it’s Seungmin, but it’s his fault and his loss, you know that.” You wish Jeongin would stop being so supportive, it’s making it ten times harder to ignore your surfacing issues.
“That’s not the problem, Jeongin.”
Since when did you call him by his full name?
“Then what is it? Is it me? Please I- I just want to help you.”
Your tears have finally halted and you couldn’t be more thankful. You need to be able to properly look into his eyes.
“You can’t help me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?”
“I’m not.” You cross your arms over your chest.
Jeongin blows out a frustrated huff. “Why can’t you tell me? Is it because Seungmin and I are friends becau-”
“I love you.”
“I know you do, which exactly is why you should be talking to me right now instead of bottling it all up-”
“No, Jeongin. I love you. Not in a friend way, not in a platonic way. I want to kiss you and hold you and-” You’ve worked yourself up so much you have cut yourself off in order to calm down.
Jeongin’s mouth stays agape for a solid five seconds before he even processes what you’ve said. “You love me?”
“Is that not what I just said?” Jeongin has to bite back his smile at your remark but quickly frowns again at the expression on your face. You look regretful, like you wish you never spoke. You’re just waiting for his rejection, willing it to come faster so you he’ll leave and you can wallow in self pity by yourself in the comfort of your bed. You disturbed the peace that was your friendship.
“I- the breakup is still fresh and you aren’t thinking straight, baby. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Jeongin pleads. Is he trying to convince you or himself?
“But I do mean it Jeongin. I really do and I can’t believe it took me this fucking long to figure it out and I wish I’d never caught feelings because this is just a shit show now.”
He goes to speak but you quickly interrupt him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget about it,” you expect him to leave, or to at least move away. But he doesn’t, instead he leans in closer to your ear and whispers in a hushed tone,
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop apologizing, baby?” The way he says ‘baby’ sends shivers down your spine, it’s different than the other times he’s called you that. This time his words actually do have a hidden meaning. His breath ghosts the shell of your ear for a moment before he slowly pulls back to look at you. As if he hasn’t studied your every feature to the point where you’re engraved in his mind.
“You have to promise me that you actually understand what you’re saying and that it isn’t the post breakup neediness talking.” He looks at you sternly and fully expecting a response in words.
You, on the other hand, have absolutely no intention of speaking as you instead grab him by the collar of his hoodie before pressing your lips against his.
Kissing your best friend is much more intimate than you ever expected. He kisses you like it’s not the first time and with more than enough purpose. It starts off aggressive but soon simmers down into a delightfully slow and passionate rhythm and as cliche as it sounds, it’s in this moment that you finally know where you belong, where your home is.
No matter the circumstances, Jeongin always left a space for you in his heart. His subconscious wouldn’t let him fill it with someone else even if he wanted (which he didn’t), forever waiting for you to find the spot with your name written all over it and stay there for as long as you may live.
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tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @myseungsunglove @seungseung-minmin @azuna-sz @chanyeolsrealwife
#snowyquokka#skzstarnet#stray kids#skz#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz scenarios#skz reader insert#skz reactions#yang jeongin x reader#yang jeongin#skz angst#stray kids angst#i.n skz#skz imagine#kim seungmin#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz fic#stray kids fic#stray kids i.n#i.n angst#i.n x reader#stray kids x reader
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So, thoughts on Challengers:
The movie was really fun and that’s all I wanted, and like everybody said it’s sexy without being explicit which I loved cause you really feel the sexual tension strongly in my opinion.
Zendaya was so good in this, she really inmersed in the role and I loved seeing her in a more mature role, also she killed the bitchy/unapologetic woman and I was living it!! Also in another more shallow note she looked absolutely hot in this movie, her body was TEA that had me gasping in certain scenes.
The chemistry between them three was really good, although for me the best was between Josh and Mike, I genuinely was rooting for them to just fuck. I will also say the chemistry between Z and Josh was so good in that dorm scene and car scene.
The timejumps were a little annoying sometimes cause it jumped way too fast and sometimes the camera pov was also too much for me as well, but I also loved some sick camera direction shots from the match.
The score had me vibing in my seat, it was sick!!
The ending was so good, those last minutes when Patrick does the thing with the racket and then until the “Come on!” From Tashi was chef kiss.
Also as for the teams, none of them ain’t shit, they all need therapy and I think Tashi should just let them get together lol
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Guys I was flipping the fuck out in my dorm room over the new Puppet History episode and I just know my roommate was confused as hell when I was sitting there, totally slack-jawed at the screen when the song was playing.
#i was losing my mind#the way I fucking jumped at the last shot#like I knew there would be a jumpscare but it still got me#I’m currently listing to Stool of Gold on repeat to cope#gosh I’m never getting over this#i tried to explain Puppet History to one of my friends and he looked at me like I was crazy#and I mean he’s not wrong#a dreamer's thoughts#puppet history spoilers#puppet history#the professor#ryan beraga#shane madej#watcher
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Loyalty is Hot - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT
Request: "I was hoping for a fic where Reader is Adam's third wife and they meet Lucifer (maybe in a meeting?) and he states how he could take Reader from Adam as well. Adam is kind of internally panicking as Lucifer states what it took to take his other two wives until Reader gets all fed up and rudely puts him in his place. Causing Adam to get all hot and bothered for his wifey and their loyalty?"
Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex (they fuck in a meeting room), Adam being himself, creampie, slight angst, SMUT, MDNI
You hated meetings, or waking up for them more specifically. It seemed that every time your husband dragged you to one it was at the earliest time possible, a time you'd much rather be spending in bed with him, enjoying the time of day where Heaven was at its most peaceful. It was also the time of day when Adam, sleepy and in a loving mood, was least annoying (which pained you a bit to admit, especially considering how much you loved him.)
"Hey! Wake the fuck up, babe! Don't fall asleep on me, not here." Adam nearly shouted, gently poking at you before you fell asleep on his shoulder in the meeting room. You opened your eyes with a sigh, keeping your head rested against your husband.
"Who are we even meeting with? More importantly, why haven't they shown up yet? It's been at least an hour," You questioned, a rising annoyance in your voice. Adam had sprung this meeting on you at the literal last minute, saying something along the lines of 'I need to show off my hot-as-fuck wife,' before practically dragging you out of bed; no more information given. Being the good wife you were, you accompanied him, albeit with some complaining. The last thing you were expecting, however, was for the meeting to be in Hell.
"We're meeting with Lucifer," He explained, the wide grin on his face shown on his mask. "I can't wait to see that fucker's face when he sees how sexy you are and realizes that you're all mine." One of his hands moved down to place itself on your thigh as he leaned in, smirking. "Who knows, maybe I'll even bend you over and fuck you right here on this table while he—"
You glared at him, smacking his hand away with a hiss of his name. He drew it back, letting out an amused laugh. "We are here on business," You reprimanded, an upset frown on your face. "Could you at least save the horny talk for after the meeting? Y'know when we're not in Hell?" Despite your reaction, you had to admit that the idea your husband had conjured up was kinda hot when you thought about it more in depth.
Fuck, you could see it now, feel it even. Back pressed against the table while your husband loomed over you, beautiful golden eyes staring into yours as you spread your legs for him. His thick cock sinking into you slowly, only for him to start with a quick, animalistic pace–just the way you liked it. Fuck, and the way his hands would reach out, grabbing at whatever he could; your ass, tits, thighs, anything that was soft and grabbable.
You hadn't realized the blush that had spread across your face until you saw your husband's smug grin. "Awww, did that turn you on, baby?" He cooed, almost mockingly. "Remember what you said, 'Save it for after the meeting.' Can't jump on me just quite yet." He leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face only growing as you shot him a harsh glare. As much of a lover of sex as he was, Adam loved teasing you even more.
You opened your mouth to argue back at him, slightly embarrassed by his use of your own words against you, but you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing. You turned your head, spotting the King of Hell himself. He looked just the way Adam had always described: pale white skin, rosy red cheeks, golden hair, noseless, and short. So short.
You stood from your seat as Lucifer approached the table, the sound of his boots against the tile of the floor filling the otherwise large, quiet room. You smiled, holding out a hand to shake, your typical behavior for business matters, regardless of who it was. "Hello, Your Majesty," You greeted politely, earning an eye roll from your husband next to you.
Lucifer returned your smile with one of his own, taking your hand and shaking it. "Who might this beautiful angel be, Adam?" He questioned, pressing a light kiss to your hand before letting it go and sitting down. Adam smirked as you sat back in your seat next to him, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close; not letting his annoyance at Lucifer's small display of affection be visible on his face.
"This is (Y/N), my wife. She's gorgeous, isn't she? A real hottie. Did I mention she's my wife?" He introduced, taking pride in having you by his side. Lucifer glanced at you, looking unamused by Adam's obvious boast before smiling at you. "Well, I certainly hope she's happy with you. Y'know, considering your history with your other wives." He antagonized, covering it up with a polite tone.
Adam's smile faltered. A sensitive topic had been brought up, one that challenged your husband's confidence. You looked between the two, taking note of how they glared at each other with mutual hatred. Lucifer turned his attention fully onto you, leaning in slightly. "Tell me, dear. Does he even satisfy you? Are you happy with him?" You opened your mouth slightly in shock, taken back by the sudden, blunt questioning.
"Fuck you! Of course she's happy with me!" Adam growled. "She's not like those last two bitches who'd settle for you of all people, you short fuck." Despite his assertion, you could hear the doubt in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself of it, too. Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth on full display, not affected whatsoever by your husband's burst of anger.
"It's not my fault that your wives like me better, Adam," Lucifer replied snidely. "All it took for Lilith was a man who did more than the bare minimum, and as for Eve, all it took was giving her a choice of who she wanted to be with for once, and that someone certainly wasn't you."
Lucifer then motioned to you. "I wonder what it'll take for me to win your third wife over, probably not much, to no fault of her own. You're probably leaving her just as unhappy as you did the last two, Adam." You watched as Adam tensed up at Lucifer's words, any confidence now gone as he struggled to keep up his self-absorbed facade.
"T-Thats not true," He stuttered, one of the few times you had ever seen him do so in all of the years you had known him. The drop in Adam's demeanor was the final straw, and you calmly got up from your seat. Both men's eyes followed you, watching your movements closely. Even with the mask on his face, you could see the fear in your husband's eyes as he watched you approach Lucifer.
"Honey? Baby?" Adam called out to you, watch as your face morphed into one of pure anger; a sight that even scared the King of Hell himself. They both knew that you were far from happy, and that was never a good thing.
"First of all, Lucifer," You hissed, saying his name with pure malice. "I am not Lilith, nor am I Eve. I may have been created with the same purpose in mind, but let it be known that we are far from similar." You slowly got closer to him, almost like a predator stalking its prey in the most terrifying way possible. "Second of all, yes I am happy. Clearly happier with Adam than Lilith was with you, considering how she up and left you and went only God knows where. I also don't see Eve around."
Lucifer's smile fell for the first time that day, and with it, his pride. Adam watched in astonishment as you continued to put Lucifer in his place. "Finally, I need you to understand that you're far from being my type. You're a coward who barely governs his people, yet so proudly calls himself the boss. Then you waltzed in here acting like you knew me better than I know myself, even when we had just met. I love Adam with every fiber of my being, even if he's the most obnoxious jackass I've ever met."
You got even closer, causing Lucifer to lean back in an attempt to escape you. "Oh, and for the record—" You leaned into his ear. "Adam fucks me better than I'm sure you've ever fucked anyone else in your pathetic life. So, yes, he does satisfy me." You whispered. You pulled back suddenly, a smile on your face. "Is that understood?"
Lucifer gulped, nodding in reply. "Lovely." You grinned, moving back to Adam. "Now, I'm afraid we're out of time. We'll have to reschedule this meeting for another day, preferably with someone else. Maybe you can send someone in your stead? Someone who's more politically involved in your Kingdom's workings, perhaps."
Lucifer let out an awkward laugh, standing up before making his way to the door, mumbling something about how we would send his daughter instead next time, before leaving. You stood triumphant, hands on your hips as you watched his departure.
"I—" Adam began, almost at a loss for words. "Are you aware how fucking hot that was!? Holy shit—" He pulled you down into his lap, pulling his mask off before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you eagerly. He pulled you down by the hips, grinding you against him, causing you to feel his growing hard-on through the fabric of his robes. "Fuck–Please, I know you said we have to wait, but please please please let me fuck you right here. Need you now."
You grinded down, a moan escaping both of you. "Why don't you do what you said you'd do earlier, hmm? Fuck me right here on this table, Adam." He bent you over the table, and you let him pull your skirt up just enough for him to be able to then tug your underwear off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room.
"Impatient today, aren't you, hon?" You teased playfully, looking back to find him not even bothering to take off his robes, choosing to pull them up instead. He chuckled, placing his hands on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Seeing you put annoying little fucks like Lucifer in their place does things to me, baby." He purred, thrusting in.
You let out a gasp at the feeling, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. His pace was quick from the start, hips snapping against yours as the sound of it all filled the room. "I bet Lucifer couldn't fuck you like this now, could he? No, you need a real man to show you who you belong to." Adam groaned, kissing and nipping at your neck.
"H-He could never," You stuttered, struggling to speak as your mind went foggy from pleasure. "I need—Oh, fuck!" You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit, rubbing at it. "That's a good girl, let all those pretty little noises out." He praised, the sound of your moans more beautiful than any Heavenly choir to him.
"You're so much better than those other whores," He moaned, pounding into you, eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. "My perfect fucking wife, the love of my life—Shit—" He let out a growl as you clenched down on him. He let out a sweet laugh, hands moving up to grab at your tits while he fucked into you. "Oh? The praise turns you on, huh? You should be honored to receive it from me."
A mix of your moans and his spread throughout the room as you both drew closer to your climaxes, your shared noises growing louder and louder by the second. "Fuck," He cursed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted into you. "Gonna cum, 'm gonna fill you up. Maybe I'll even put a baby in you just to show Lucifer how in love with me you are."
"Do it—" You begged, legs quivering as he angled his cock in just the right way for the tip to graze your sweet spot. "Cum inside me Adam, let them know that I'm yours. All yours—A-Adam!" Your orgasm hit you with sudden force, the feeling coursing through you.
"Yesyesyes! Feels so fucking good cumming around me—" The sensation of your pussy contracting around him during your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and he came, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you.
You rested your face against the table, no longer able to hold yourself up by your arms after the energy your climax had used up. Your orgasm subsided, but your body still shook, lightly trembling from the enjoyable onslaught it had just endured. You took deep breaths as Adam pulled out of you, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.
He pressed soft kisses to your neck, holding you as you both basked in your post-orgasmic bliss together. "I love you," He mumbled against your neck, smiling. "You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for you to be my wife. You're absolute perfection, sweetheart." He pulled himself off of you, sitting back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You think some sinner scum is gonna have to clean our mess up? That shit would be hilarious."
You sighed, shooting him a harsh look that he only laughed at. "Adam," You warned. "Have some respect, would you?" He laughed again, pulling you down into his lap, grinning. "Respect? Baby, we just screwed in a fancy meeting room. We are past the point of failing to show respect."
He leaned in closer to you, mischief in his golden eyes. "Now, why don't we go for a round two?"
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin adam#hazbin adam x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader smut#hazbin smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#adam hazbin#hazbin hotel adam smut#adam hazbin hotel#smut#adam x reader#adam x reader smut#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#mdni#💫mimicwrites💫#banner by cafekitsune#hazbin hotel adam x you#hazbin hotel x female reader#hazbin hotel x fem reader#hazbin hotel x fem!reader#fem reader#fem!reader#female reader
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Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation.
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him.
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists.
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before.
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples.
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her.
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance.
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her.
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration.
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished.
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her.
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her.
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper.
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed.
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him.
“You’re important to me.”
She has no idea how much.
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive.
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted.
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care.
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long.
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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HARD CASH, EASY MONEY (p.js)
Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later.
Or the one where you tell jay that if breaks the rules, he’s going to have to fork up a very large sum of money and, well, he seems entirely ready to pay up.
minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.
WORDCOUNT― 5.4k
PAIRING― jay x afab reader
CONTENT― pussy drunk and rich as hell jay, stripper reader, jay is taller than reader.
NOTE: if u read this before no u didn’t bc i reworked a lot of it!!! just to cover my bases, hi i am ncteez and if you feel like this fic sounds too close to another one, its because i wrote them both!!! thank you!!!
nsfw tags under cut:
nsfw tags: lap dancing, shy-ish jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, doggy style on a couch, thick cock jay, reader doesn’t cum lmfaooooo
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Having sex with a client is a big no-no in the industry you’ve grown to love. You are to be desired, eye-fucked, and paid to look sexy. The fact that you don’t have to give them any part of you outside of a show? What’s not to love about it?
There are men who try to get touchy, men who are too shy to make eye contact, and men who refuse to break eye contact. All three of these types of clients bring in the big bucks and tend to become regulars to either yourself or one of the other girls who make the men believe they are also an object of desire.
It’s easy, really. After all, why not use the goods you were born with to make the big bucks?
Then you have those clients. The men with big-shot jobs, walking in and ordering the most expensive drink, quietly observing the women as if they aren’t even interested at all. The ones who have wives, children, and stresses that will weigh on them the moment they walk out of their homes for work.
To them, you are their secret little stress relief and you often find yourself acting out towards them, letting them break a rule or two, perhaps. Dancing a little longer for them sometimes just to really rake in the dollars. Mostly because they’re the ones who pay your expensive rent. They’re the reason you can live on the high-end of the city and buy new, sexy, lingerie to wear each night you dance and bounce around on the stage.
Jay was one of those men, so you assumed. A little young looking if you’re being honest, but who are you to pry when he’s throwing hundreds at you and the other dancers?
You remember the first time he walked through those doors. You thought he was going to be one of the shy men, avoiding eye contact and shuffling uncomfortably on his seat to hide the boner, presumably ashamed to know he could never have the women up on stage that are intentionally making him hard.
He isn’t though, and you swear just last weekend he bought out the entire fucking club because he was the only one watching on a late saturday night, silently judging each dancer. You also remember when he made eye contact with you on that night. His eyes were sharp under the dimmed lighting and you swear he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat with the intimidation, mostly because the motherfucker smirked before throwing out five crisp hundred dollar bills.
Even on the first night he ever attended, the girls talked. You remember when your best friend ran back in her six inch pumps, jumping with glee and explaining that the new guy threw two hundred at her only a minute into her dance.
Naturally, all the girls wanted to put on a show for him after that.
He appeared to be rich. And everyone was shocked, really, because even the richest of clients typically don’t give a bill over fifty to the dancers unless he pays for privacy. This man though? He was tipping with bills that showed his status.
It was really only natural from that moment forward for each girl plus yourself to try and win him over. You’d stay near his side of the stage, directing the gyrating and pussy shots right at him just to see those bills flutter to the floor of the stage.
In all honesty though, these types of clients never stay long. Usually they’re in the city on business and visit once, only to never come back. This one though? Oh, he keeps coming back. Every. Single. Saturday.
Having no ring on his fingers only made it better because many of the married men do not feel the guilt of ogling women while married. Huge turn off. Like, hey, if they don’t touch, it’s not cheating right? Either way, eating fancy and living in your nice flat paid for by the lust of men is a perfect lifestyle for you. Even if you have to pretend to like the pigs pretending to love their wives.
You called dibs on this new man as quickly as you could, to the dismay of the other dancers. Calling dibs was never truly honored though, because who the man chooses is usually who ends up dancing for him and getting the most money.
This guy never seemed to choose a girl though. He never pays for dances, never speaks, never so much as shivers in his seat at the image of a pussy sticking to panties in front of his face for his money. All he does is watch and throw bills.
You should be pleased. After all, he’s kind of a perfect client.
Weeks and months go by at this point and Jay keeps his regular Saturday night appearances. After what you and all the other dancers believe regarding him buying out the club last weekend, he’s a very welcome face to see.
Tonight though, several dancers have come back into the lounge crying because this guy didn’t tip them a fucking dime. Given, a bouncer shows up not ten minutes after each crying face with a nice tray of drinks and an envelope with their stage names on it.
It’s gotten to the point now that with how long he’s been visiting the club, some girls even roll their eyes at him. Wondering how desperate he must be, how privileged he must be to flaunt his money the way he does.
Still, that doesn’t stop every single one of you from working your bodies for him in hopes of more, more, more money.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Same old, same old at the club half a year later. Saturday night, several regulars, several new faces, and of course, that young rich guy sitting front and center.
You walked into work just as the sun began to set and there he was. At this point you can tell by the back of his head with that nice hair cut. So many other men show up disheveled, and half of them are already wasted by the time later shows even start. Still, you smile in knowing you’ll make rent again this month. After all, you just spent a bit too much money on some new shoes and outfits.
Still, but this point regarding this rich ass guy, even you’re getting annoyed. Every saturday he tips you anywhere between five hundred to a thousand dollars. Given, you’re very aware that it’s much more than the other dancers get, and you kind of have been lying about the amount he tips you so they don’t feel bad. It’s the fact that he isn’t giving anyone a chance to really show him a good time.
Private rooms and VIP services are highly sought after in this club and he can definitely afford it. It just appears that he doesn’t want to get personal with anyone.
Given, there’s no sex involved, of course. It’s just intimate lap dances, music of their choosing, sharing drinks, and occasionally just becoming a therapist for loser old men. Still, you wish he’d give you a chance to really get into your moves.
And, well, would you look at that.
You’re in the back room settling into your seat to lace up your new shoes when one of the owners walks up to you.
“You’ve got a dance.” He says to you, smiling. “You’ll never guess who it is.”
You look at yourself in the mirror, popping your lips with the pretty lipgloss before wiping some off that overlined your lips, and then shift your eyes to the owner through the glass.
“Jake, again?”
The owner shakes his head with a laugh. Surely Jake would be here soon to try and get you to dance for him again though.
“Who, then?” You laugh, leaning back down to fix a strap on your shoe.
“His name is Park Jongseong, goes by the name of Jay.”
“Okay?” You laugh, turning in your chair to face the man. “Is this his first time buying a dance?”
“Oh yeah.” The owner says brightly. “He bought you out for the entire night, head to room 11 when you’re dressed, he’s already made himself at home.”
Nothing else is said by the owner as he turns and walks out.
“The whole night?” One of the girls laughs at your situation. “You’d better hope he tips well.”
“Well, buying out the entire night sounds expensive, he must be one of the rich ones.” You laugh with a shrug, a little frustrated that your new shoes won’t be seen by the foot-fetish men. They’re always out and feral on Saturdays.
“Maybe–” The other dancer laughs, looking at you with kind of a pitiful look. “Hope he’s not ugly.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’ve done so many private dances before, but none that had ever taken the entire shift. To be fair, you didn’t even know they could do that. You assume that the owner took the offer because he decided the money was worth it. Wondering how much was offered to pay for your presence, you feel kind of good.
This isn’t exactly a cheap club, surely this is a great opportunity.
Whoever Jay is though, he’d better make this wasted shift worth your time.
“Hi,” You whisper without looking up, sauntering into room 11 with a small voice. They always like when you’d act smaller in terms of personality, submissive even.
The lights are dimmer than usual when you walk in and you’ve only used this room once or twice during your entire career at this club. It was the most expensive room, one with its own pole, a large velvet couch, and more space to move around compared to the others.
The man doesn’t respond to you as your eyes adjust to him, but then–Oh.
Oh.
Jackpot.
“Jay?” You look at the man who had spent thousands on you and the other dancers since he’d become a regular. “That’s the name of the man who spoils us?”
He just nods at you, staring you up and down with the same sharp eyes he had the night you’d first seen him.
“Not a man of many words?” You question, walking over to him slowly, swinging your hips like the way you always do when you’re on the clock. “So, I take it you won’t tell me why you picked me, huh?” You laugh playfully, looking over to the pole but parking yourself in front of him.
“Why wouldn’t I have picked you?” He lets out, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re my favorite to watch.”
Hearing his voice felt surreal, somehow setting him apart from any other client you’ve had seated in front of you. His voice is smooth, but you can’t tell if you think that because he’d held your curiosity for the longest time, or because he just said you’re his favorite to watch.
“Oh yeah?” You smile at him with a tilt of your head. “Lucky me.”
With that, you see how he relaxes against the couch to watch you. Business as usual. You don’t even ask how much he shelled out for this, because you know it had to be a lot. His first offer was probably much more than what the owner would have accepted to begin with.
You do your job for him though, twirling and sliding yourself against and on the pole. The music is a lovely choice, one that is chill enough to move slowly, but upbeat enough to bounce and wiggle for him.
The pole is cold as usual, allowing your nipples to perk enough to where, now, because he is closer to you than he had ever been, he can see them. You definitely see him watching too, still with that same bored expression despite the money he lends out just to experience it. You continue your routine, spreading your cheeks, pressing your tits together, making eye contact with him, smirking, and licking your lips.
Jay mouths the lyrics to the songs sometimes, but his eyes never leave you even when he dips his head for a drink. His eyes are less sharp now compared to before, being replaced with a hazy kind of look as he drags his gaze up and down your mostly-exposed body.
Noting that you’ve never seen his face shift before out in the main area, you believe that you are experiencing Jay actually reacting to a woman now. No longer looking uninterested but tipping as if he had cum in his pants during each dance. You feel entirely desired by him, and you kind of like it.
“I think you’re the most handsome client I’ve ever danced for.” You say in a soft voice, slowly backing away from the pole as the song changes. After all, you always sweet talk clients when it’s a one on one like this, though usually you’re lying. You actually mean it this time. “Do you know the rules?”
Jay nods as his legs spread a bit when you walk towards him. He knows you’re taking your time because he did pay for the entire night.
“No touching.” You whisper as the bass picks up on the speakers. It’s lap-dance time at the moment, and like always, you recite the most important rule.
He nods again, eyes glued to you as you turn around in front of him and begin to ghost your ass over his lap.
Watching you, he is well aware of the rules and perfectly comfortable with them. He would never violate a woman regardless of how sexy he finds her. He can buy her time, but he knows he can’t buy her intimacy on any level higher than he already has.
You dance against him for what feels like an hour, but only three songs come and go. Jay is stoic beneath you but you can see his facade break every now and then. He will shake his head to himself sometimes, or flutter his eyes closed when your tits are less than an inch from his face.
Usually, he is great at composing himself in this kind of situation. He knew when he became a regular here that having you would be impossible but that didn’t stop him from showing up. He knows it’s your job, and you act this way with everyone, so he can’t just break composure and show you just how fucking badly he wants you. Truly, he can’t embarrass himself by being so obvious.
“I imagine you’re struggling, Jay–” You break him out of his thoughts by calling him out instantly, turning and now spreading your legs across his lap to sit on him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, mostly because you know he’s going to tip you big time. “Don’t you want to touch?”
He stutters out a laugh, and maybe believing he was one of the shy clients isn’t entirely untrue.
“It’s against the rules.” He deadpans, keeping his hands at his sides and glancing away from you, trying not to imagine the fact that he’s got the prettiest stripper in the club grinding against his cock right now. Though you’re not entirely grinding against it, he can feel a soft sort of friction every few seconds as you dance on top of him.
“Do you want to break the rules?” You tilt your head, knowing that you’re already touching him by wrapping your arms around him and kind of like, being incredibly attracted to him. You’d probably let him break more than a few rules if he wants it, not just for the tips either.
When he looks up to make eye contact with you, you nod at him and he follows, nodding himself.
“If you break a rule and touch me, you will have to pay me a hefty fine not to tell on you.” You laugh cheekily, batting your lashes and bouting your lips at him.
He could pay your rent for the next several months if he wanted to just for fucking fun? Like hell you’d report him for touching you when you’re struggling yourself not to touch him more.
“How much?” He instantly says, smirking as if you could name any price. For him though, hearing you suddenly offer some sort of deal in order to let him touch you has his mind doing flips.
Rules, rules, fucking rules.
Fuck the rules, he can afford to break them.
You’re a little taken aback by his playing along. You were mostly joking, but the suggestion is still there if he’s the type to... y’know, wanna fool around with a stripper.
“Half a mil.” You joke again, pulling back from his lap to slap against his arm, knowing the price is too high but flirting anyway. “Touch me and you lose”
You didn’t expect him to nod back at you.
“Five hundred thousand.” He confirms, keeping his hands at his sides. “Go on then, try and win your money.”
You’re fucking floored. Half a million is really on the line right now? There’s no fucking way he thinks he can lose. No way would a man really put that much on the line just to see if you can seduce them into breaking a rule that you’d allow him to break for free.
The game is on now though, it seems, as you do everything in your power to tease the ever-loving fuck out of the rich man in front of you. You ruffle his hair, you ghost your lips over his and everywhere else, you dance against him, on him, around him. You spread your legs out for him, slapping your own clothed pussy, you tease your nipples at him as if you’d pull your breasts out.
You can see him start to falter about two hours into the game. You had whispered into his ear and noted how he leaned into it. When you walked around the couch so that you could stand in front of him again, you saw how painfully hard he had become. Lowering yourself to your knees in front of him as if you would be in a position to swallow his cock whole, you look up at him innocently. “Is that for me?”
Jay groans, nodding shortly. He’s definitely breaking, and he’s starting to not care.
“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now–” He admits when he drops his hand from his hair and looks at you with a crooked smile.
You smile at him, that half a mil is yours.
“Oh yeah?” You run your hands up and down his thighs. “You’ve wanted to fuck me before?”
Jay nods, watching how dangerously close your hands get to his cock, lending a twitch and hoping you notice it.
“You’ll lose if you touch me though–” You’re cut off by him, seething out words in a deeper voice.
“You act like I didn’t intend to lose.” He says, leaning forward and pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head to look at him.
When he lifts your chin, he pulls your face a bit closer, shifting your body in a way that allows him to slot a leg between yours from the floor. He stares at you, almost like he knows that even after giving you the prize money, he’d still be the one to win.
“D-did you?” You say, a bit intimidated by him and his rough hand holding your face, he forces you to look at him.
“I did.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’ve never moved your body like this on stage, was I wrong to think you’d let me fuck you?”
You shake your head, sticking your tongue out a bit to lick the tip of his thumb, unintentionally rubbing your pussy against his shin.
“But I don’t fuck clients.” You try to argue for the sake of it, despite Jay definitely being a client you want to fuck.
“Oh yeah?” He says, turning your face to the side and skewing his neck to see your ass. “Is that why you’re practically fucking my leg right now?”
You bashfully shake your head out of his grip, halting your hips and pulling back from how close his face is to yours. “No?” He laughs, leaning back and crossing his arms as he looks down at you.
“I mean…“ You go back on your own word. “You already touched me and–” You shrug. ”I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wet right now.”
Jay’s cock instantly twitches against his pants as he smirks at you with a confident nod.
“Stand up then.” He says, nodding his head more as if to motion you to do as he says. His legs spread as you rise to your feet and he instantly adjusts himself when he goes to stand up in front of you too.
Fuck, he’s taller than you and the way he looks down at you feels so much more intimating than before. You are entirely silent when he towers over you and you flinch a bit when his arm wraps around your waist.
You’re a little shocked by how rough he is when he moves you around, twisting you to where you’re facing the couch and being shoved down against it. “This is what you wanted, right?” He seethes out as you hear his belt being unbuckled.
Almost in a whine, you whisper out a ‘yes’. He’s floored by the sound of it, because it almost sounds like a fucking plead. Lucky me, he thinks.
After all, he’s watched you for months moving your body like you need a cock to fill it. Not just dancing like the other girls, you would fuck the stage for him and his money. And now? Oh, you’re gonna get fucked.
Jay doesn’t hesitate after hearing you, the money he’s lost in the bet is so far in the back of his mind because to be fair, he would have paid far more just to look at you. The only reason he’s pulling his cock out right now is because you fucking want it.
The bet was to not touch you. It appears you’d be pleased with both his cock and his money.
Not because it’s your job either, quite frankly, he knows it isn’t your job to fuck clients. He feels special, and he knows he damn well should be special.
You were seeing stars from the moment he touched your face, but this? God, this is more than you could have imagined. Such a fit, attractive man throwing his money at you and slipping your panties to the side just to see what no one else in this club sees. You wonder if his mouth is watering, if his hands are trembling, if his cock is twitching.
Jay slips a finger into you with ease and without warning, just to test and see if you really do want him to fuck you into the next dimension, and thankfully, you’re more wet than he could have imagined.
“Goddamn, baby, you want it?” He asks, confirming for himself that this is all for him.
You nod your face against the couch, arching in a way that props your ass up a little higher for him.
“Good good.” He says, fucking his finger into you a bit more before taking another step forward and resting his cock between your cheeks for a moment.
“Letting your clients fuck you?” His hand wraps around your middle and pulls you up and against, grunting into your ear. “You always do this?”
You couldn’t even answer when you feel him press his cock down and between your legs. So fucking thick.
“Go on, look.” He demands against your ear, holding you still against him with his arm as he slides between your folds. You look down to see the head of his cock peeking from between your legs and the image alone had you feeling gagged.
When you moan out at the image, you hear him chuckle against your ear and then you feel him pull his hips back, angling himself perfectly so that he can slide his cock into you.
In one long, languid thrust, you feel the entirety of him. You can hear his sigh against you, and feel his hand tighten around your middle when he bottoms out.
His cock is so thick, pulsing inside of you and weeping out thick pre-cum, only offering more to the wet you drench him in.
“Ah, listen to that–” He says, releasing your middle and slamming his hips back and forward just a few times to let the sound of how wet you are echo under the music. “So wet for the money, hm?” He continues, now pressing you into the cushions of the couch, knowing you’ll soon be biting against the fabric.
You hum against the cushions, rolling your eyes back at the delicious feeling of him paired with his voice.
“Or is it for me?” He asks now, voice coming out in a low rumble as he slams his hips into you repeatedly with deep pushes and sharp drags.
You nod again, almost frantically as you lift yourself to grip onto the back of the couch, and when you turn your head to look behind you, Jay is almost glaring at you with that same devilish smirk on his face.
Almost as if, even if he’s losing all that money, he’s fucking winning right now.
You watch his neck tense when he throws his head back with a drawn-out moan shortly after, and he doesn’t stop. He snaps his hips so quickly, and fucks into you so hard that all you can do is let out small whimpers each time the head of his cock hits a soft spot inside of you.
And when he doubles over you, using his other hand to stretch your panties impossibly far to the side, lying his head against your shoulder, you can tell he’s losing his composure too.
He’s so cocky, but goddamn is it nice to feel a man like this lose composure because of your pussy.
His hips stutter in and out of you and his breathing is heavy, fingers gripping both of your ass cheeks and spreading them every few seconds only to release them and watch them bounce together before slapping hard against the flesh.
“Can’t believe you’re spread out for me right now,” He moans out as he reaches his hand up and swipes his hair out of his face, and then his hips snap back into you sharply. Almost pointed.
“Knew you would be too, I saw the way you looked at me baby– you wanted it too.” He breathes out with each thrust, as if he knew he would have you under him someday, you don’t argue. If you had met Jay on the street and he hit on you, you’d be far too easy for him to capture.
“Don’t ever let another man do this for you–” He moans out now, amazed by how tight your cunt is around him.
Truly, and not even trying to be rude, he genuinely didn’t think you’d feel this fucking strangled against his cock. It’s perfect. He wants to lay claim so fucking bad, and so, he fucks harder, quicker.
“Don’t ever let another man pay for this pussy.”
You nod with a strangled moan, struggling to keep your grip on the couch with his weight on you when he leans forward, pressing his chest to your back.
“I’ll stop showing up.” He threatens. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He continues to talk, hunched over you, fucking you just right while gripping both of your tips in that slutty bra you’re wearing.
And before you can even answer in a whimper, a cry, or a moan, you feel his cock pulse inside of you. Seemingly fucking you until he’s empty only because you feel it happen. He releases himself inside of you, cumming spurts of thick white ropes against your quivering walls.
Right then, he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back and against him and holding you so tightly in place. All you can do is sit still for him, cockwarming him through his orgasm as you try to speak.
“You wouldn’t be able to stay away anyway–” You try to be snide through the pleasure of feeling his cum bubble out of you. “Look at how fast you came.”
He snarls first at your comment, only to chuckle as he orgasm comes to an end. Truly the sounds he made to your comment were so fucking erotic, you almost can’t imagine ever letting another man do this anyway. For some reason, having Jay act all possessive over you is much less offensive anyway, compared to the other men who would probably try this with you.
You don’t see it as him assuming you’re a woman who would allow just any man to have sex with her for money, anyway. You think he knew he’d be able to pull it off. Though, if that weren’t the case, it wouldn’t be any of his fucking business anyway.
If anything, you decide that he gets possessive when his cock is fucking, and you feel kinda glad that you were the one he picked.
Not kinda. Actually, you’re fucking over the moon over it.
The fact that the man cumming inside of you is the man all of the girls want to dance for makes you feel like you’re the prettiest woman in the world. His money is attractive, but god, the way he fucks is somehow more enticing. You wouldn’t mind doing it again, and again, and again.
And when he finishes and pulls out of you, all he does is slide your panties back to their rightful place and gives your pussy a little tap, as if to comfort you into keeping his cum inside of you for safe keeping.
And yeah, he knows you didn't cum but to be fair, as much as he would have loved giving you an orgasm, your pussy felt too good for him to stop. Perhaps you’ll call for him to return the favor? Who knows? (God, he hopes you do.)
By the time he’s sat back on the couch, allowing you to lounge against him as you catch your breath, he’s already pulling out his wallet.
“I don’t carry cash.” He says, pulling out a card. “At least not half a million worth, so, just take this.”
He hopes you take note of what he’s doing. After all, the club has an ATM, he could always just make a couple of transactions for this.
You look at him wide-eyed, seeing the black card he holds out to you. He's actually paying you? You didn’t think he’d really give you half a million, seeing as how much you enjoyed that? Being paid for sex isn’t actually something you do.
Then again, he’s paying for breaking the rules, not for fucking you.
“You’re just going to give me your card?” You laugh, raising a brow in confusion. “I could go way over the limit?”
“You wouldn’t.” He shrugs first, and laughs second. “You won’t.”
Taking the card into your hand, it feels much heavier than any credit card you’ve ever held.
“No, really. You can’t just give me your card.” You laugh, tossing it back at him.
“Says who?” He looks at you seriously this time. “If I don’t see you again, I’ll just report you for fraud.”
He’s being fucking serious? Genuinely?
“Jay–” You try to scold him, but he doesn't let you.
“Just take the damn card.” He demands, standing to his feet and ruffling his hair with a breath. “Don’t embarrass me more by not taking it.”
“Embarrass you?” You ask, looking at the card and the way he just leaves it lying against the couch.
Almost as if, if you don’t take it, someone else will.
“Listen, I don’t normally do this.” He trails off, feeling the post-nut guilt. “The least I can do is hold up my end of the deal.”
“This is your credit card.” You still try to argue with him, turning to watch him walk towards the door.
“Don’t use it then. Just give it back to me when I see you again.”
You watch him reach for the doorknob.
“Saturday?” You ask.
“Saturday.”
And then he’s gone, and you’re five hundred thousand dollars richer, somehow.
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bittersweet (one-shot)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
summary rafe both loves and hates that you’re his sister’s best friend. he gets to see you all the time, but it’s a constant reminder of what he can’t have… until one night, when his jealousy takes over and he can’t keep himself from you any longer.
» masterlist
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Rafe wonders if you know that he can hear you. It’s just false hope, but maybe you’re trying to make him jealous.
You’re in the bathroom getting ready for tonight’s party with Sarah, your pretty laugh reverberating through him as if he’s right next to you.
But he’s not. He’s never been as close to you as he would like to be.
His bedroom is right next door, where he’s sitting in bed, wasting time scrolling on his phone, eavesdropping.
“You’re lying,” Sarah says.
“I’m dead serious,” you reply. “I’ll read it to you.”
Rafe overhears you reading out a text you got from your ex last night… he loves you, he misses you, he shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.
He remembers seeing you in tears a few weeks ago when you visited his sister. Admittedly, he lingered by Sarah’s closed door, hearing you sniffle through your words about how he had dumped you out of no where.
It made his blood boil knowing someone did that to you. But like always, he pretended like you have no effect on him, later passing you by in the hallway without a single word exchanged.
“Do you think you’ll get back together with him?” Sarah asks after you finish reading the message.
“No way,” you reply. This makes Rafe’s heart feel a little lighter. Until he hears your next words. “I hope that guy I was talking to last weekend shows up tonight.”
Rafe fucking hates hearing you talking about guys you like. His crush on you is too big to not let it rattle him. And tonight, he might have to watch you flirt with someone that’s not him in his own fucking house?
He can’t take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to see you standing by the mirror, your makeup halfway done.
“Do you have to be so loud?” Rafe snaps.
The only way he can talk to you without throwing any flags up is by being a dick. And admittedly, it kind of feels good getting his sexual frustration over you out like this, even though it’s severely misguided.
Sarah only rolls her eyes, having fully resorted to ignoring him at this point, but you smile at him in that way that makes his heart jump.
“Okay, grumpy,” you laugh. You’re in baggy sweats and big t-shirt and still manage to look fucking stunning. “You’re one to talk.”
Rafe knows you’re referring to the many fights of his that you’ve witnessed, both with his family and with people at parties.
He hates that your smile and your teasing make him want you even more.
He scowls at you but before he steps away, his eyes linger on you a little longer than you think they should. Wishful thinking, you tell yourself. You gave up on the fantasy that Rafe will look at you as anything more than his sister’s annoying best friend a long time ago.
“Sorry,” Sarah says, apologizing on behalf of her brother like always.
“Don’t worry about it,” he hears you respond. “I know what he’s like.”
Rafe shuts his door. What he’s like. You don’t fucking know what he’s like at all.
If you knew that you’re his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, you’d realize he’s so fucking grumpy because he doesn’t get to talk to you how he wants to. Or touch you how he wants to.
He’ll have to avoid you at his party tonight. He’s not interested in seeing you flirt with some jackass.
That night, Rafe is halfway into a beer, zoning out of the conversation his friends are having around him.
You’re on the other side of the room, arm linked with Sarah’s. You’ve changed out of your comfortable clothes, wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Man, what he’d do to you if he had the chance.
But he knows he doesn’t. You’ve seen him at his worst. Who in their right mind would want him?
As you chat with Sarah, your eyes drift to Rafe every so often. You can’t help it.
There’s something about his presence that’s so magnetic and dominant. And why is it when he’s wearing his hat backwards like that, your stomach does somersaults?
You need to get your mind off of him. It’s never gonna happen.
Then your eyes land on your ex-boyfriend, who just entered the room.
Rafe watches your face drop and your eyes lose their light. You turn to look at Sarah, whispering something to her, then disappear into the crowd. When he realizes your idiot of an ex just showed up, it takes everything in him not to crush the solo cup he’s holding.
He told himself he’d avoid you. He needs to keep his own promise.
Later in the night, you’re filling up your cup at the keg when you hear a familiar voice behind you.
“Don’t hog it,” he says, a joking tone to his voice. You turn to see your ex standing behind you. You only furrow your brows, in disbelief that he thinks he can speak to you so casually.
You don’t respond and he awkwardly shuffles in place.
“Did you get my text?” he asks.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say. It’s been weeks, but being with him again brings it all back, the way he told you he doesn’t see a future with you anymore. Instead of sorrow, though, you just feel anger.
“Can you just… can you give me five minutes?” he asks.
“Leave me alone,” you tell him. Rafe appears behind your ex, his blue eyes fixed on you. He’s angry like he always is, his jaw clenched.
You figure he’s annoyed that you’re using the keg when he wants to top up his own drink.
“I don’t get why we can’t just-” he continues, but is interrupted.
“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe mutters. Your ex turns around to face him.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.
“This is my house.” Rafe has to duck to talk to him. The image stirs something in you. “Either stop bothering her or get the fuck out.”
Your ex turns to look at you, shaking his head in confusion.
“This your new boyfriend?” he asks, voice thick with envy.
“What? No,” you reply. The way you look almost appalled by the prospect makes Rafe feel like his heart is being wrung out.
You almost laugh. As if Rafe would want you.
Your ex turns to face Rafe again. In the tension of the moment, you feel a lump form in your throat. Anger from what your ex did to you. Embarrassment that he won’t leave you alone. Excitement that Rafe is defending you, followed by a sharp sadness that he’ll never see you the way you see him.
Rafe is about to swing at him. But then he sees the look on your face and his anger dissolves.
“Fuck off,” Rafe says sternly.
Your ex looks at you incredulously. You’re sure he knows Rafe would take him down in a second.
When he walks away, leaving you and Rafe just a foot apart, you flatten your lips as you look up at him.
“Thanks,” you say quietly. You never thought you’d thank him for anything.
Rafe’s eyes soften when he realizes your eyes are wet with the threat of tears. You feel mortified to be crying in front of him, so you leave your drink on the table behind you and brush past him, stalking upstairs to the same bathroom you did your makeup in.
Your hands grip the counter as you look at your reflection. You managed to swallow down your tears, determined to have a good night.
Three knocks thud against the door.
“Someone’s in here!” you say, weak voice echoing through the small room.
“It’s Rafe,” you hear.
Your heart leaps. What the hell could he have to say to you?
You swing open the door to meet his gaze. He’s wearing an expression you haven’t seen before.
Rafe can’t fucking take it anymore. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, boxing you in between his body and the wall. His arms are crossed to keep himself from touching you.
“Why were you with him?” he demands.
“What?” you ask. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. This is Rafe. Mad is his default setting.
“He’s obviously a fucking idiot,” he snaps. “And an asshole.” You’re not sure if this is some cruel display of annoyance, but you don’t have the patience for it.
Still, a part of you is buzzing to be alone with him.
“Why are you giving me shit right now?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. He brings his hand up to yours, pushing it away from your face.
It’s the first time his skin has ever touched yours.
“Why were you with him?” Rafe repeats. He’s so close to you that you can smell him. His aroma is earthy, like a comforting campfire. But nothing about him is warm. Never has been.
“How do you even know…” you mumble in confusion. You realize you have no clue how he knows that the guy he almost fought downstairs was your ex. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”
“I heard you,” he says. “I heard you crying over him. Why were you with someone who said that shit to you?”
Rafe recalls the way you told his sister that your ex called you names during your last fight. It made him sick.
You freeze for a moment. He heard you? Why the hell would he care to listen?
“Well, sorry I was being loud,” you say, still a little bitter about how he talked to you earlier tonight even though you had laughed it off in front of him. “Can you just… give me a break? It’s been a shitty night. I don’t need you judging me on top of it.”
“God, that’s…” Rafe steps back, taking off his hat just to smooth his hair back and put it back on again. “I’m not judging you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
A few heavy, tense seconds pass between you. Rafe is looking down at you, at how pretty you are, at how badly you need to be appreciated.
Then he leans down to press his lips against yours.
You were wrong. Rafe does have warmth to him. He’s nothing but warmth right now. The way his hot mouth captures yours and the way his hands cradle your cheeks fill you with need and happiness and a whirling sensation of unsteadiness.
Is this actually happening?
Rafe’s whole body buzzes when you kiss him back, your hands hooking up around his arms, palms on his shoulder blades. He’s pressed up against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue running over yours.
He wasn’t annoyed. He was jealous. You feel dizzy from the revelation.
Your back is flush against the wall, Rafe’s body curved against yours. He bites on your bottom lip for a second, sending an arousing pinch of pain through you, as if he’s punishing you for making him yearn for you.
The contradiction between your mind and your body is jarring - you thought he was annoyed by you, but he’s kissing you like he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t kiss you before.
Tasting and touching you like this makes Rafe harden, and he perches his hips back, unsure if this is too much for you. When your hands slide down to roughly pull his hips back towards you, he doesn’t need any more signals. You want him just as bad and it makes every inch of his skin burn.
Rafe shifts back, forehead pressed against yours, unable to open his eyes for a second.
“I need…” His voice is hoarse. He can’t do it like this. Not with you against a wall in the bathroom. “Let’s go to my room.”
You nod and follow him, letting him lead you onto his bed.
Your eyelashes overlap as Rafe hovers over you in his dark room, kissing you again. Tucked away from the crowds and music downstairs, all you can hear is the sounds of your lips smacking together and his fast breaths.
You spread your knees apart so he can settle between your legs. Desire consumes you as he grinds his cock against you. The sensation awakens the need you’ve had for him for so long but always told yourself you’re not allowed to feel.
You can’t help but feel a gnawing fear that this is just a meaningless encounter to him. You’re not equipped to deal with being just a piece of ass to Rafe. Sex with him will change everything. It needs to be worth it.
You gently push against his chest and worry floods through Rafe that he did something to make you uncomfortable.
He’s looking down at you in the shadows of his bedroom, his breaths shallow and fast.
“We shouldn’t…” you begin, and he nods quickly, arms straightening to sit up. Shit. He fucked up by kissing you. He’s not worth the risk to you.
But again, you pull him back in, this time with your hands cupped on his shoulders.
“Rafe, wait,” you breathe. “I’m saying… we shouldn’t if you don’t…” You take a beat to gain some courage. “I like you. For real. I’m not doing this if I’m just a hook-up to you.”
Rafe didn’t realize how heavy his heart sat in his chest until he hears you say that. He looks at you with wonder.
“You’re not just a hook-up,” he says, as if it’s obvious to you. “I like you so fucking much. I have for so long.”
“You mean it?” you ask. You realize this man has the power to break your heart.
He kisses you like you’re so damn delicate, like you could break in a second. The way you just said that, the edge and fragility of your voice, makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. You feel it, too. It’s not just him.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I mean it.”
Your lips meet again with even more heat this time. He grinds against you with more pressure than before, his erection hard and big.
The fact that you’re the reason he’s so turned on is unreal.
Rafe’s hands dip under the hemline of your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs. You tilt your hips up off the bed to offer him the space to pull your dress up. He immediately takes the invitation, watching you in awe as the fabric slides over your chest, your shoulders, finally off your body.
His open mouth attaches to the flesh of your breast, kissing and sucking. He pulls the cup of your bra down to close his lips over your nipple. The sensation makes you tremble and moan.
Your pretty sounds are better than anything he has ever heard.
His tongue flicks and wriggles over your nipple, then he moves to your other breast, eager to give all of you the attention you deserve.
“Let me eat you out,” he stammers. “Please.”
“Yes,” you whisper.
For so long. He said that he’s liked you for so long. Your mind is rustling with excitement and disbelief, your thoughts tangling together as you think back to every time he looked at you. Every time he spoke to you.
It’s crazy to think you can now reframe all those memories, knowing what you know now.
Rafe pulls your panties down and wishes his lights weren’t off so he could see you better. But what he does see in the dimness confirms what he always knew - that every part of you is beautiful.
You feel his fingers spread you apart, the cool air pressing against your core. The image makes his stomach numb with infatuation.
“Fuck,” he says, nearly whining. “Fuck… I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could do this.”
“Me, too,” you admit breathlessly. “I never thought you… wanted me.”
“Of course I do,” he half-chuckles. He regrets ever making you feel like you’re not desirable. You’re perfect.
Rafe dips his head. You’re like sugar on his tongue. You gasp when he presses his mouth against your clit. He can’t believe how much arousal is pooling between your legs as he starts to lap at you.
“You’re so wet for me,” he praises, planting a kiss on your cunt. His tongue twists and curls and when it dips inside of you, you feel like you’re on another planet.
He readjusts his hands to spread you even wider, wanting to pamper every fucking inch of you.
You bunch his hat between your fingers and throw it off of him to feel his hair. You dreamed of touching his hair for so damn long. You can’t help but tug at his roots as he gifts you with the best feeling you’ve ever had.
The thick, wet sounds of him slurping fill you with bliss. His mouth is giving you so much damn pleasure, the same mouth that would snap at you and frown at you and make you wonder why he disliked you so much.
It was all an act. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
You felt how big he is when he was grinding against you. You need him to fuck you. Now.
“Rafe,” you moan.
“Hmm?” he says, mouth still closed around your clit, sending a vibration through you.
“Get inside me,” you whisper. “I can’t wait anymore.”
His heart is thrumming with exhilaration. He still can’t believe that you want him.
He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuttons his jeans with such fever that you smile in endearment. He’s moving like you’ll change your mind or come to your senses or something.
He sits over you on his knees, holding his cock at the base. It’s big and curved so fucking perfectly that you start to ache for him even more.
This will change everything and you’re so glad it will.
Rafe slowly drops to rest on his elbow on top of you, his other hand guiding him into your soaked entrance. You shudder in near unison as he pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.
“Damn,” he groans, unrestrained. “You feel so fucking good.”
“What you expected?” you ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone.
“Baby,” he laughs. The nickname makes your body tingle. “Even better.”
He pulls back slowly, then buries into you again, a deep, languid exhale leaving his lips. He ducks to kiss you as he fucks you slowly and lovingly, stretching you out, your chests pressed together.
His pace begins to quicken, the curve of his cock hitting deep inside you so perfectly.
“Can I go harder?” he asks against your mouth.
“As hard as you can,” you request. He shudders as he pulls back and slams into you with all his force. Your body jolts, his bed squeaking.
“Be mine,” he says between thrusts. “I need you to be mine.”
“I am,” you say. “I always was.”
This sends him over the edge. He’s about to cum, but he needs to get you there first.
To your disappointment, he pulls out, but when his mouth is back on you and his fingers are scissoring into you, you lift your feet off the bed and throw your head back.
Your walls start to flutter around him as you cum and he quickly shifts to stuff his cock back into you so you’ll finish around him. He feels his gut tighten and he explodes into you with a string of oh, fuck’s, your pussy squeezing around him in pulses as he spasms through his orgasm.
Rafe loves the way your arms and legs are wrapped around him. He feels so needed by you. It’s like a drug.
He collapses on top of you, holding himself up the best he can so not to crush you.
You’re both sweaty and breathless and smiling. He dips his head to press his warm cheek against yours as you remain wrapped up in each other.
“So was I,” he mutters against your ear.
“What?” you breathe, your legs numb from pleasure.
“I was always yours, too,” he says. He kisses the side of your neck, wishing he could never leave this moment. You let out a sweet laugh, squeezing his big, hard body tighter.
He’s never going to make you doubt if he really likes you ever again. He’s sure of it. He silently vows it as he kisses your neck countless more times.
inspired by this anon! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘
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Aphrodisiac
i’ve scrapped this one shot so many times, I almost gave up on it. hope my sukuna lovers will enjoy this one.
human!Sukuna x F!Reader
summary: when you accidentally eat an aphrodisiac, your boyfriend teaches you the consequences of it.
warnings : oh where do i start? multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f! receiving), rough sex, cream pies and body painting (?) and more.
“sukuna!” you called out while walking into the living room, hoping to find him there. his back was turned towards you, a pair of headphones propped on his head while he had a book in his hand. you stepped in front of him, causing him to finally look up at you. he pulled his headphones down and looked at you, wondering why you were in front of him with that expression on your face.
“i accidentally ate on of your gummies….and my body feels so….hot—and my um…” you begun, feeling nervous to tell him what else was wrong with you. he was now intrigued, wondering which of his gummies did you consume. “spit it out already” he spoke like he was already bored with you. “my clit is throbbing so much and look at my fucking panties they’re soaked!” a sigh escapes your lips when your panties ride on your clit as you pulled it up a tad to show him your slick.
whatever you ate had you in heat. your nipples were sensitive and if you walked a certain way an orgasm would’ve erupted through you. his crimson eyes trailed over you body before looking at you with a smirk on his face. he knew exactly what you ate and plan formulated in his mind. he tossed his stuff to the side and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer to him. the way his fingertips pressed into your hips made your clit throb even more, your body was totally sensitive.
you let out a breathy moan when he pulled your soaked panties down, your cunt at eye level with him. sukuna tapped your plush thigh as he laid back, guiding you to his face. when you sat down, a loud moan escaped your lips and an orgasm pushed through you. he didn’t even have to tease your clit; the heat from his mouth alone was needed for you to cum. his eyes shot open and his eyebrow rose, he couldn’t believe that you came that fast.
your sudden climax only fueled him more. his tongue swirled and sucked on your sensitive clit, making it pulsate even harder than before. he lapped up your juices like it was the last thing he would ever taste, causing you to grind your lower half on his face. his nose was pushed deeper into your cunt, stimulating your clit as he tongue fucked your aching hole. “cumming so hard for you kuna~” you said in a breathy whisper, gripping the couch’s brown arm rest as the ball in the pit of your stomach exploded.
he let your ride out your orgasm before moving you aside, sitting up afterwards. his mouth was covered with your juices making you blush at the sight. your eyes traveled down to the tent in his pants, mouth watering at the sight, palming it and watching it jump as you went. “are you going to continue teasing or are you going to free it?” his bluntness aroused you and you quickly unzipped his pants and freed his boner from his pants.
before you could even lean down to suck it, he stopped you telling you to get on your hands and knees instead. the sight of your dripping cunt being slightly covered by your fat ass made his balls swell. sukuna wasted no time and prodded his deep pink mushroom tip at your entrance, groaning at the ocean you formed in between your legs.
he entered you with no problem, your walls immediately clinging and constricting around him which made it harder for him to not burst inside of you. with a slight head turn, you glimpsed at him, “please fuck me hard kuna~”. usually you’re not able to take him when he’s fucking you deep and hard, but tonight you wanted to be fucked into the couch. a smirk etched on his face and he plunged deeper into your cunt with one stroke, a yelp escaping yours lips.
the embarrassing, yet sexy sound of air being pushed out of your cunt echoed throughout the living room as your cunt was being filled by his cock. your ass bounced against his pelvis each time he pounded into you. slutty mewls and dripplets of drool slipped from your plump lips the more he fucked your cunt sloppy.
it almost felt like you were dying and being brought back to life whenever he slammed himself deeper into you. his dick throbbed inside of you, he couldn’t stop himself from cumming either. your pussy was way too fucking good, his thick load shot out in ropes and the heat from of it made your pussy spasm; causing your third orgasm for the night.
he was breathless once he pulled out of you, sitting against the soft couch behind him. while the warm fluid pooled out of you, that overwhelming feeling soared through you again. you needed more, the strong effects of the aphrodisiac controlled you. you took him by surprise when you climbed on top of his lap, hovering over his cock before pushing it back inside of you.
“so fucking tight— mhm you’re clinging to me” he growled into your ear as your gummy walls confined to him, the fat of your ass clapping each time you reached the skin of his thighs. he loved the slutty expression that was plastered over your face, drunk off his cock as you made it yours.
the more you bounced, the more his dick became coated with your cream making it a bright shade of white. his big hands gripped the fat of your ass, the fluffyness of it melting in between his fingers as he helped bring you up and down on his cock. the feeling of his tip brushing against your sensitive spot sent flutters to your pussy and he could feel you cum again. his voice was raspy as he talked you through your orgasm.
sukuna could barely help himself when he pushed you on your back, holding your legs back with your ankles nearly touching your ears; his dick pushing inside of you once more. he ignored the sensitivity he felt and immediately began to split your pussy in half. your eyes rolled back deep into your head, showing off the whitest part of them. his name spitting off your tongue the more he fucked you silly.
you couldn’t take it anymore, you was sure he was going to break your pussy the way he was fucking you. your manicured nails scratched at his forearms; leaving welps and red markings over them. “this pussy is so fucking wet. this my pussy?” he knew you could barely answer him, your mind far away from words. instead you frantically nodded your head while taking his dick the best way you can.
the feelings of your pussy clenching around him made him go faster and caused your final orgasm to approach quicker. you didn’t warn him as a stream of clear liquid shot out of you and drenched his cock; some of it hitting his chest. he smiled seeing you squirt all over him, his climax following right after yours. “cumming loads in that pussy, yeah~?” with a few more hard and powerful strokes he began to empty the last of his balls out inside of you, before pulling out to paint the rest over your breasts.
you had learned your lesson and promised to never touch his things….sike.
#sukuna x y/n#jjk sukuna#sukuna x you#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x you#reader x jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#human sukuna#boyfriend sukuna#jujutsu kaisen sukuna smut#Sukuna one shot#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jjk ryomen#ryomen x reader#jujutsu ryomen
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dare to be stupid
summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)
a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk
part 2
“Truth or dare?”
It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.
And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes.
She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?”
You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed.
Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.”
Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.”
You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.”
“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?”
Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips.
Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?”
Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?”
“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?”
Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.”
Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?”
Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.”
There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in.
In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress.
When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?”
You grinned. “$200.”
Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.”
“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”
Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.”
You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips.
“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling.
“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.”
You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”
Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.”
Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor.
Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”
Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?”
You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!”
Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.”
You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder.
“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone.
“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”
Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning.
“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away.
Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.”
You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you.
This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”)
“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?”
She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.
“Don’t-”
“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!”
“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-”
“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?”
“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?”
Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.”
Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”
Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.”
“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.
And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing.
“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints.
You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.”
“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light.
You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”
You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies.
“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar.
It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own.
So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?”
She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands-
“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?”
And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited.
You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse.
You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk.
You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat.
For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.
“How would you rate your last kiss?”
You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.”
“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic.
Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.”
Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else.
Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.”
Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.”
You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart.
“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there.
Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.”
And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.”
You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover.
And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer.
Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face.
Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth.
That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp.
“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest.
And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving?
Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.”
And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body.
Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue.
“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.”
She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone.
The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.”
Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin.
“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips.
“What?”
“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no.
“Truth,” you sighed.
One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?”
You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy.
“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing.
It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs.
Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?”
This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips.
And you decided to play her game.
“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes.
Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.”
You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.”
She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment?
But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue.
“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach.
You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.”
The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.
“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.”
Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple.
“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones.
You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease.
She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.”
Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan.
You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye.
You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.”
Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission.
“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence?
And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them.
Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been.
Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs.
You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place.
You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….”
And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job.
And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-”
And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted.
Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-”
It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it.
Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-
A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs.
Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity.
When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple.
The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?”
Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?”
You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?”
Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.”
You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”
The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin.
Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again.
You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you.
When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.”
You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.”
Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?”
You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.”
Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?”
“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you.
She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.
You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.”
You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.
Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.”
#listen i'm writing a novel rn so i forgot how to write short things#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#lesbian smut#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#tlou smut#idk man#tlou 2 x reader#i might change the title idk i couldn't think of anything#i haven't written fanfiction in. like 8 or 9 years i think lol
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rottmnt x reader || S/O who bites (out of love and affection obvi)
Rise! Donnie, Raph, Mikey, Leo x Reader (separately)
fluff? :D, gn reader, romantic (established relationship), BITING mmmm, mild swearing
Donnie
- the first time you bite him, he jumps and lets out a loud yelp, “ah! ow! what in the name of-“ then just stares at you in disbelief. absolutely incredulous. and has to take a while to process. why? why- HOW could you do this to him? after all he’s done for you?
- don’t play with him he HAS and WILL bite you back and NOT in a loving way
- he is ALWAYS on his guard
- you go in for a hug? you lean in to kiss him? you turn your head ever so slightly in his direction? his whole body tenses up. you’re giving this boy trust issues. he will physically, STILL GENTLY, push you away with his mechanical spider arm thingies…heaven forbid you bite those too….
- “Do. NOT. Bite me. Y/N.” “…”
- ^— “DO NOT. This is your last warning.”
- “Yes, Y/N. You’re very ferocious and vicious. Now STOP biting me.”
- “Sigh. That is NOT affection, Y/N.”
- “AH! Don’t bite me while I’m working, please…Don’t bite me ever!”
- “If you want to ‘show affection,’ you could just…I don’t know, hug me? or hold my hand? the biting is unnecessary.”
- NOT a fan of the biting at ALL
Raph
- The first time you bite him, “AHH!” he is confused. he does not understand. are you trying to attack him??? do you wanna throw hands??? what did he do to deserve that??? he does not want to throw hands with you
- he really does not see how biting is supposed to be showing your affection but whatever you say 😭
- his skin is pretty thick and rough. I mean you’d really have to sink your teeth in to hurt him so he just lets you. it actually lowkey tickles to him.
- “Careful. Ya don’t wanna bite my spikes.”
- it’s definitely not his favorite thing in the world but he doesn’t mind terribly if it really makes you happy and as long as it’s just you trying to show him love
- chooses to just take it as a sign that you want attention and/or some kind of affection
- would never bite you back tho
- however, I don’t suggest catching him off guard with a nibble cause he might start swingin 🤺 and would feel absolutely horrible abt it
Mikey
- the first time you bite him he’s offended. you’re gonna bite HIM? 🤨 yeah, ok buddy. he just squeaks in surprise and rubs where you bit him, looking at you like ‘😟’ before biting you back. he is taking it personally until you tell him you’re just showing affection cuz you love him soooooo much
- he’s perfectly ok with it then as long as you don’t bite him too hard
- LOVES to give and receive affection anyways so he makes it really easy to bite him when he’s clinging onto you all the time
- always giggles and squirms when you bite him
- returns your bites with kisses all over your face
Leo
- the fucking most dramatic ever
- the first time you bite him he acts like you just shot him
- “OWW!! OWIE! Ugh! Y/N! How COULD you?! BETRAYAL” while gripping where you bit his shoulder and whining like a toddler even though it did not hurt at all and you didn’t leave any sort of mark whatsoever.
- ^ drops the act completely when you tell him it was out of love
- now every time you do it he thinks you’re trying to flirt with him 🤞😔 and I mean I guess he’s sort of-ish right
- honestly he doesn’t really care but definitely teases you about it /ns
- “yeah? do I taste good, Y/N?” /ns!!
- “ow! ok, ok! not too hard!” while giggling
- “mhm…now kiss it better.” makes you kiss where you bit him every time.
——————————————————————————
now I know I ain’t the only one who bites like that 🤨
#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt#tmnt#rottmnt x reader#rise donnie#rottmnt donnie#rise donatello#rottmnt donatello#rise donnie x reader#rottmnt donnie x reader#rise donatello x reader#rottmnt donatello x reader#rise leo#rottmnt leo#rise leonardo#rottmnt leonardo#rise leo x reader#rottmnt leo x reader#rise leonardo x reader#rottmnt leonardo x reader#rise mikey#rottmnt mikey#rise michelangelo#rise mikey x reader#rottmnt mikey x reader#rise michelangelo x reader#rottmnt michelangelo x reader#rise raph#rottmnt raph#rise raph x reader
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sky full of stars | ln4
summary: dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.
word count: 3,615
warnings: drinking
masterlist — join my tag list here!
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
2021
You did not want to be in this club. You would need another pair of hands and feet to count off all the places you’d rather be, the very first one being asleep in your bed.
But here you were, not only in the club, but within a throng of people at varying levels of fucked up, jumping around and dancing to the song pounding through the speakers. Your comforts were twofold: the first was knowing that you could handle the two shots in your system, and the second was that your best friend was the designated driver tonight, so there was no way in hell she was going to leave without you.
Frankly, you’d been ready to leave an hour ago. In fact, you’d started saying the words, “I want to go home” when you caught a glimpse of the DJ in charge of tonight’s music. Granted, it was hard to really look at him considering the fact that the lights were low and you were on the other end of the club, but you’d seen just enough to know that he was attractive and any thought of leaving had gone right out the window. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t said anything when he started his set, so you didn’t even know what his voice sounded like.
You needed a closer look.
So here you were, surprisingly enjoying yourself on the dance floor while you tried to check him out without being overly conspicuous. You were only able to make out a head of curly hair and the large hand that lifted a shot glass to his lips when your phone started ringing, the buzz in your pocket the only indication thanks to the blaring music. You squinted at the screen, thinking it might be your friend trying to find you, but the caller ID read “Potential Spam,” so your phone went right back into your pocket. You were on a mission.
When you looked up, you made direct eye contact with the man of the hour– the DJ you found nothing short of infatuating. You were rather close to his setup, maybe ten people away, but you could feel his gaze on you as he picked up a microphone.
“This next song is dedicated to the gorgeous woman I’m looking at right now,” he announced to the whole room, sending a wink in your direction before getting to work on fading the current song into the new one– “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay.
You felt goosebumps rising on your arms as the first few notes filled the room, suddenly glad that you were here and not at home, asleep. The lights moved in tandem to the beat of the song, and you finally got a proper look at his face. It’s then that you knew you were screwed, because if he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, you’d be lying.
You barely had any time to pull yourself together before he was motioning for one of his friends to take over for him and stepping down from the booth into the crowd, making a beeline right for where you stood in the middle of it all.
“You’re awfully bold,” you said when he was close enough to hear you, a bit taken aback by how quickly he’d closed the distance between the two of you. “What makes you think I like this song?”
He didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to slowly run his hand down your arm until his fingers tangled with yours. “You have goosebumps, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t like it. When I played it last time, you came up to me and tried to take the mic so you could sing it to everyone.”
That’s another reason why you never made a habit out of going to the club. Somehow, it always got to the point where you lost your mind a little bit and somehow managed to find new ways to make an idiot out of yourself. But tonight was different– you were managing your alcohol intake, and the hot DJ was calling you out on something you’d been too drunk to remember the next morning.
Your friends hadn’t though; in fact, they’d been gracious enough to provide video proof of them dragging you away from the DJ booth. You’d never felt such shame as you did watching that back.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his free hand tilting your chin up so he could look right at you as he spoke. “It’s how I noticed you in the first place. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since.”
At least one good thing came out of my foolishness, you thought to yourself as he took your other hand and put both of your arms around his neck. It made sense, anyway– you definitely would’ve remembered seeing him before had you been sober.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” you warned him as he began to sway to the music, taking you along with him as his hands went down to your hips.
“Neither am I,” he confided, lips close to your ear.
The chorus began, the song’s beat drop making the lights change from red to blue, and you decided that you would let this happen, even if it turned into another embarrassing memory. At least you would remember this time, and you’d never forget swaying back and forth with the handsome DJ as the rest of the crowd danced around you both.
2022
You were in the club again, and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Spending so much time with your favorite DJ, Lando Norris, will do that to you. After that first dance, he bought you a couple drinks and didn’t go back to the DJ booth for the rest of the night due to you dragging him right back out into the crowd and dancing with him until your feet hurt too much to stand. Eventually, your best friend had found you and told you it was time to go, and in your tipsy state you’d kept your arms firmly around Lando, said something about “holding him hostage,” and vehemently refused to go anywhere. It wasn’t until he gave you his number that you allowed your best friend to take you home.
He texted you right away when he woke up that morning, and the day after the two of you went on your first date. He surprised you by taking you to a rather high-end restaurant; you’d pegged him for a more low-key guy when it came to dates, despite the fact that he’d dedicated a song to you in front of a club full of people, and you were proved correct when you were on the phone with him later that night.
“I don’t even like going out that much,” he confessed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “I just thought you deserved something special for a first date so I didn’t look like a loser.”
“You could have just told me that,” you giggled. “The dress code for our next date can be sweats.”
You still remembered the way his eyes lit up when you said “our next date.” That next date, a movie marathon at your apartment, had turned into countless dates, and you never went back to that restaurant.
Now, you were in the club where the two of you first met to celebrate your one year anniversary. Lando was wearing a white button up, and had just unbuttoned the top two buttons to reveal more of his tan skin and the gold chain around his neck. You’d given him a look, and he’d complained that “it’s just so hot in here,” but the both of you knew he was just doing it to rile you up.
It was working.
Your hands gravitated to the newly exposed skin, palms running up along his shoulders and fingers dipping beneath his collar to gently scratch at his back. You could spend all night running your hands over his skin, and he’d be happy to let you do it. He leaned closer to you, nearly stepping on your toes as his arms looped around your waist.
“You really weren’t lying last year when you said you were a bad dancer.” You laughed at the affronted look on his face.
“I think I’ve gotten better, thank you very much.” He said, and promptly stepped directly on your foot. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry!”
You only laughed harder, pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the vibrations of his own laughter against your lips.
“Wait right here,” he instructed, breaking the kiss. “I’ve got something for you.”
He kissed your cheek and disappeared into the crowd.
The song playing began fading out, which caught your attention because it was in the middle of the chorus. You didn’t need Lando’s DJ knowledge to know that it was a strange decision to fade a song out long before it was over.
“Attention, everyone. We had a special request tonight from a familiar face,” the DJ announced before passing the microphone to none other than your boyfriend.
“This next song goes out to my beautiful girlfriend,” Lando said, pointing directly at you and causing your face to get hot when half the room looked in the direction of his finger. “Happy one year, baby. I love you.”
Your jaw dropped as the familiar opening notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” started playing. Not just because of the song, but because of those three special words. I love you. You’d only said it to each other a handful of times, and Lando had just said it to you in front of hundreds of people.
You met him in the middle of the floor, too impatient to wait until he got back to you.
“I love you, I love you so much!” You yelled over the music, kissing him again.
“One year is just the beginning, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.
2023
You were wrapped up in Lando’s arms as you stood before his setup. In the past year, he had been promoted to be the main talent for the club and had three sets every weekend. He had insisted that the only gift he wanted from you for your two year anniversary was that you help him DJ his next set, and you’d obviously agreed. You got him a necklace anyway, but kept your promise so long as he promised to help you gain at least some skills beforehand so the audience wouldn’t kick you out for being shit. After a week or so, you felt confident enough with the buffer of the knowledge you’d picked up over the past two years to be where you were now– fading one song into another almost seamlessly.
Lando would take his hands off of you for only seconds at a time to adjust something here or there and make the music flow as smoothly as possible. Otherwise, he was all over you for the whole club to see, and you were kind of obsessed with it. He was hardly paying attention to anything else; only moving on autopilot to fiddle with the knobs or whatever it was he was doing to make you look like an adequate DJ.
“Did I do okay?” You asked towards the end of the set, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend who hadn’t stopped smiling at you since you left the apartment and arrived at the club early to set up.
“Are you kidding? I think I might be out of a job after tonight,” he said, threading his fingers into your hair to pull you into a long kiss. “At least I would be, if I didn’t have this party trick under my sleeve.”
Slightly dazed from the passion of his kiss, you let him lean around you and queue up a song that wasn’t originally in the mix for that evening’s set.
At this point, you should have expected it, and maybe you did a little bit, but that didn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes and the goosebumps rising on your arms when “A Sky Full of Stars” began, sending the crowd into a chorus of cheers.
“It works every time,” he said cheekily, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had escaped.
“You are unbelievable.” It was meant to be said in jest, but you were just so filled with love and adoration for him that it sounded like a compliment.
“Dance to our song with me,” he said, spinning you and tugging you forward so you bumped right into his chest.
“Here?” You looked behind you, at the set up, at the hundreds of people, and he took your chin in his hand and turned your face back to him.
“Here. Now. I want them all to see how much I love you.” He said it so sweetly that, in that moment, you were willing to give him just about whatever he wanted.
He started singing the song to you, “‘Cause in a sky, ‘cause in a sky full of stars, I think I saw you,” and it felt like you were the only two people in the room when the beat dropped and you kissed him with everything you had, letting him sway you back and forth and spin you around one too many times just to see his smile and hear his giddy laugh.
2024
You’re surprised when Lando tells you that he’s made different plans for your three year anniversary. The club has become a second home of some sorts; you’re there more often than not to watch his sets, and you’ve always gone there for your anniversaries. Not just the years, but the six month, year and a half, and two and a half year anniversaries as well. Thus, the sudden deviation from tradition raises a few alarm bells in your head. If anything, you’d expect a change for your four years next year since 4 is your boyfriend’s lucky number.
You don’t have time to dwell on it that much. You have to be out the door in ten minutes, and you still have to finish applying your lipstick, not to mention strap yourself into the sparkling silver heels Lando had gotten you for Christmas.
“Almost ready, baby?” He asks, peeking into the bathroom and watching as you add one last swipe of lipstick.
“Yup! Just need my—” you’re cut off when he holds up the heels. “—shoes. Thanks, Lan.”
“Here, sit. I’ll put them on for you.” He gestures to the edge of the tub.
You take him up on his offer happily, and your heart jumps up into your throat when he stares right into your eyes and slowly gets down on one knee before you.
You’d overheard him talking about possibly proposing to you with your parents over the holiday break, and you hadn’t been stealthy about it at all, so he knows that you heard. Since then, he’s made a game out of getting on one knee in front of you every now and then. He already did it once this morning when he woke you up only to tell you that he made you breakfast. You know he’s joking, but now that you’re celebrating a significant milestone in your relationship you can’t help but have a slight inkling that his joking around is less of a joke and more of a hint.
So when he holds your gaze long enough to make you start thinking that it might actually happen before going about putting your shoes on, you’re not at all fazed and ruffle his hair.
“Hey! Easy, I spent a lot of time making my hair look good for you.” He yelps, jumping up to look in the mirror and patting it down meticulously.
“I like it when it’s messy,” you reply, giving him a look that you know drives him crazy.
“You can’t say that and look at me that way when we’re trying to leave the house, babe.” He whines.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You make sure the straps on your heels are tight enough before you stand up, pleased that your retaliation to his down-on-one-knee joke worked better than you thought it would. “Come on, I don’t want to be late!”
He wastes no time in getting his payback for your antics when you arrive at the restaurant he took you to for your very first date. He opens the car door for you, and takes your hand to help you step out. The moment you’re on the sidewalk and the door is closed behind you, he gets down on one knee again, making a point to look at you the entire time. Your heart jumps again. Certainly he wouldn’t do it on the sidewalk? Or maybe he would, to add to the element of surprise?
He doesn’t. He simply ties his shoelace, the picture of innocence all the while.
“Shall we?” He says as he straightens up, offering his arm with a smile.
You retain your own picture of innocence, wrapping your hand around his bicep. “We shall.”
Seeing that he had booked the private dining room has more alarm bells going off in your head, not to mention the fact that you thought you’d never see the inside of this restaurant again. Regardless, you were actually kind of happy to be somewhere quieter to celebrate your anniversary, as much as you’ve fallen in love with being at the club.
Lando clears his throat loudly towards the end of your meal as the waiter pours two glasses of champagne. “Three years,” he begins, sounding somewhat awestruck.
You nod in agreement. “Three years. Sick of me yet?”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” He passes you a glass, and you clink them together before you each take a sip. “Actually, I’d really love to just spend my entire life with you.”
Now he’s not even trying to hide it, so you laugh a little bit. “That’s sweet, Lan.”
“I’m serious,” he pouts, and you try to contain yourself, painting a serious expression on your face and nodding as you press your lips together. “Fine, I admit it. I went a little too far with the joke.”
“Which time? Are we talking about just today or the past few weeks?” You ask pointedly, taking another sip of your champagne.
“Okay, a lot too far.” He huffs, getting out of his chair and pushing it in before walking to your side of the table. “I want to make up for it right now though, if that’s alright with you.”
“Oh my God. You’re actually serious?” You ask, feeling your insides beginning to shake a little with giddiness as he gets down on one knee before you for the fourth time today.
“I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small box.
It looks a bit different than ring boxes normally look, and the moment he opens it you understand why. The notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” emit from within the box where the ring sits, the dazzling diamond sparkling when it catches the light.
“Fuck’s sake, Lando, I wouldn’t have spent so much time on my makeup if I knew you were gonna do this,” you sniffle, putting a hand over your mouth.
“I’ll keep it short because I don’t want to cry too much and ruin it,” he promises, taking your free hand in his own, the other holding the box out to you. “I’ve never been happier to be borderline assaulted by a drunk girl in the middle of a set, because if that never happened I don’t know if we would’ve met.”
You start laughing hysterically, tears most definitely ruining your makeup, and he laughs through his own tears.
“I just love you so much, every little thing about you. It would take me eternity to tell you how much I love you, and that wouldn’t even be enough time with you. So, that’s why I want to ask you to be with me beyond eternity and do me the honor of being my wife.” He says your name like he’s saying it for the first time, taking his time to savor the way it rolls off his tongue. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you nod. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Hand shaking, he slips the ring onto your finger. The moment it’s in place, he puts his other knee down and pulls you into the tightest hug as the song continues playing from the box.
“I love you,” you whisper in his ear, feeling his shoulders shake slightly as he cries. “But did you have to give me a heart attack so many times today?”
He laughs, pulling away and grabbing a napkin to gently wipe your eyes. “Four’s my lucky number, I had to do it three other times today to make sure I got it right.”
The song comes to an end, and you pick up the box, observing the intricate design and the engraving on the outside– You get lighter the more it gets dark. I’m going to give you my heart. Forever.
“You know this has to be the song we dance to for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Norris, right?” You say to him, leaning in and kissing the tears off of his cheeks.
“Way ahead of you, baby. I already started making our playlist; it’s the first song on there.”
note: the fact that i’m posting this after lando confirmed he “retired” from dj-ing… call this my long-winded eulogy. special thanks to coldplay for making a song that inspired a whole story!
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are always appreciated <33
beautiful dividers by @/saradika !
tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @thef1diary @clara760-blog @baby-moxley @positiveaspirations @xfuckoffx @hannahbrown2002 @cataalinababeyy @inejghafawifesblog @formulasportworld @meandjoemama @maddie-bell @mrsmaybank13 @hadids-world @havaneselover08 @aacherrylips @itsmoonia @universallyhoundbonkfestival @rery30 @paigeworlds @wassgood @itscrzy @ctrlyomomma @inlovewithdeadboys @multifandomfan1 @bwormie @megsmclaren @barackostea @enchantemirrorball @tiredallthetimex @cosmoscoffeee @mlilyb16 @ophcelia @idktbhhsworld @l-inas @kath8278 @formulaangel55 @y-nusername @sla123455ffh @dinodumbass @diaa-20 @alexmarie29 @lisoba13 @ftdtlovecore @clowngirlsstuff @jurelij @romanxffs @sadisticfries @loyalpuffofthehuffle @cherrue @itsprashimusic @danielmarie @dampcelery0294 @shasasthings @bringbacktim @lou-larcher5 @yunakynn @hanbinnneee
#full fic#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x reader
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Unhappy Holidays
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆
Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).
Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”
A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).
Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆
Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.
Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.
If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.
It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.
Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.
A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.
He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.
Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.
The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.
“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”
“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”
“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”
You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.
He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.
Your resentment still burned though.
Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.
You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.
The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.
After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.
You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.
In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.
The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.
Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.
“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.
“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.
“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”
“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”
He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.
The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.
Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.
Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.
Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.
It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.
You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.
“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.
Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.
A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.
As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.
Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.
You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.
By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.
Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.
The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.
Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.
“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.
So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.
With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.
“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.
“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”
“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.
But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.
“You're sure he won't be there?”
“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”
“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”
“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”
“Done.”
–X–
Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.
You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.
“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.
“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.
“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.
“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.
“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”
You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.
“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”
“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.
“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.
“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”
You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.
“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.
Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.
“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.
“I was invited.”
“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”
“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.
You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.
“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.
“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.
“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.
Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.
“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”
“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.
“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”
“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.
“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.
“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”
“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”
“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”
He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.
“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.
“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.
You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.
His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.
He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.
He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.
“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”
“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”
“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.
“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.
“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”
Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.
He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.
“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.
“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.
“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.
It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.
He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.
“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”
“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.
He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.
“Liar.”
His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.
“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”
“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”
“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.
There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.
You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.
It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.
“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.
“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.
“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”
You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.
You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.
Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.
You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.
You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.
It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.
“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.
“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.
Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.
“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.
“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.
“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”
He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.
He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.
“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”
He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.
The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.
His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.
The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.
“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.
“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”
“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”
“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”
He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.
“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”
“Fuck. Why?”
“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”
You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.
He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.
“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”
“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”
“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.
“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.
“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”
“You just know how to piss them off?”
“Morgan says it comes naturally.”
“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”
A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.
“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.
“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”
“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.
“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.
“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”
He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.
“Oh my god you're an idiot.”
“When you're around, yes.”
“And that means I'm equally stupid.”
“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”
You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.
“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.
“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”
“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”
He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#criminal minds smut#cm writing challenge
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losing ur interest | op81 smau
PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem best friend!reader
WARNING(S): kinda angsty
SUMMARY: oscar spent the better half of his teens and early twenties pining after his best friend, y/n, with no luck. however, by the time y/n finally sees him in a romantic light, his love is long gone.
Instagram
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 91,740 others
yourusername did i jump in the water fully clothed for my bestie only to get one nice shot?? yes yes i did that and u would do it too for a free dinner! 😌
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username she was an employee! and she was gonna get employee of the month period y/n !!!
yourusername yessir🫡
username 🤣🤣
username so... where is this picture you speak of🧍♀️
oscarpiastri 40 cad of food for 1 pic...😐
yourusername not my fault u're so unphotogenic x
username oscar bby the public would like to see it pls 🤲🧎♀️
username prettyyyy
landonorris the camera guy always gets the short end of the stick smh guess who paid for my food🤨
yourusername uhm... so anyway the weather was soo nice😋
landonorris woow
oscarpiastri posted to his story!
[ caption: This picture alone is NOT worth a fully paid meal! 2/10 ]
[ tagged: yourusername ]
oscarpiastri
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tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri Two best friends in a room, they might...
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username KISS OMG THEY MIGHT FUCKING KISS YESS PLS😭
oscarpiastri 👀👀👀
yourusername ahahahahahaha😂
username ouch...my heart hurts for osc🥹💔
username alright y/n it ain't that funny😐
username AHHJKSH they're so cute omfg
username slowly realising best friends to lovers ain't ever gonna happen with these two😩
landonorris finally give photo credits???🤨
username oop
yourusername never 😙❤️
username the way y/n didn't even like the post omg crying and fucking throwing up
username 😭😭
username sigh... nobody talk to me rn 😞
f1gossipofficial
liked by username, username, username and 11,840 others
f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N, Oscar Piastri's long-time childhood best friend, was spotted entering the paddock today! Despite being a fan favourite, she hasn't attended many races and tends to keep to herself.
Nevertheless, fans are thrilled to see Y/N supporting Piastri at this year's Australian Grand Prix!
Best of luck to all drivers today!
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username y/n on insta: 🤪😆🗣️ y/n at a gp: 🤐😊🙈
username LMAOO ...why is this me tho🥲
username she's so real for that lololol
username ntm on my girl now, she's just shy🤣🫶
username it's so clear oscar's in love with her omg
username she's not tho☹️
username imagine if oscar wins today👀👀
username she looks so prettyyyyy <3
username ew she's just there for the money and fame🤢
username "long-term childhood best friend" what's not clicking??? yall just be saying anything smh
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: alright boys, time to get on ur zoom 🏎️ ]
[ tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris ]
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Instagram
oscarpiastri posted to his story!
[ caption 1: When your best friend buys you pizza to make you feel better after a crash 😊 ] [ caption 2: Nevermind she dropped it 🤦♂️ Actually feeling worse now! ]
[ tagged: yourusername ]
A few months later...
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yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: the best type of mattress 😌 ]
[ tagged: oscarpiastri ]
ynfanpage
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tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri
ynfanpage guys have you noticed how giddy and touchy y/n's become around oscar ever since his crash at the aus gp??? these are some pics she's posted since then👀👀👀
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username OMG YES IVE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT
username what do you wanna bet she realised she was in love with osc that day??🥺
username IMAGINE. that would actually make so much sense!!! best friend to lovers at last omfg 😍🫶
username my nonna always said "sometimes u have to almost lose someone to realise how much they really mean to u"🥹
username Y/N IS IN THE FUCKING LIKES WTF‼️
username probably by accident🥲
username BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT AN ACCIDENT??? maybe we'll get a hard launch soon omgg
username they're sooo dating lol
oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer, logansargeant and 201,888 others
tagged: yourusername, lilyzneimer + more
oscarpiastri Made some new friends at the beach today :)
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username the vibes in these are immaculate🤩
yourusername same time, same place? :)❤️
landonorris where was my invite???
oscarpiastri Non-existent 😊
username lmaoo why are they like this🤣🤣
username is that y/n and osc in the third pic??🧐
username idk but lmk when u figure it out babes
lilyzneimer super fun! nice meeting you guys 💛
oscarpiastri You too 😆
username idk oscar responding to everybody but y/n's comment rubs me the wrong way...🤨
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lilyzneimer posted to her story!
[ caption: 🍝💛💛 ]
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yourusername beach x (ty lovely waiter for taking my pic for me)
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lilymhe prettiest! 💕
yourusername youuu <33
username where's oscarrrr
username she's so fake😒 how is she super shy at the gp and then so outgoing here smh??
username lmao maybe bc this is her own insta?? like duh she feels comfortable on her own page wtf
landonorris alone?🤨 where's your shadow
yourusername u're so...😭
username LMAOO referring to oscar as her shadow is crazy??💀💀
username i'm cryin🤣🤣
oscarpiastri posted to his story!
[ caption: 😊❤️ ]
[ tagged: lilyzneimer ]
Twitter
Instagram
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: girls night in? yes, yes pls :) ]
[ tagged: yourfriend + more ]
0:02 ㅇ──────────── 3:17
no part 2!
#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#f1 imagine#op81 x you#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri fanfic#smau#oscar piastri angst#oscar piastri imagine#f1 instagram au#fanfic#f1 fic#oscar x reader#op81 fic#f1 scenario#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#oscar piastri one shot#formula 1 x you#oscar piastri x you#f1 fiction
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𑄽୧ glory hole with eren & jean𔓘 ᰍ
kinktober day 31: who's pussy is this!!!
✿ eren yeager x reader x jean kirstein
✿ warnings: sex clubs, p in v, glory hole, eren & jean treat u like a pocket pussy
The music in the club is loud, and you have to talk loudly to even hear one another. Eren and Jean laugh in their booth, watching a new dancer struggle on the stage.
She's cute, her small body moving in adorable ways, but they both know she's inexperienced. They have seen all of the good dancers in this club, bending their bodies in a way they didn't think was possible.
"What are my regulars doing here?" a familiar voice interrupts their entertainment. They notice Connie, the owner, standing by their boot with a sly smile. They both fist-bump him, just like they used to do in high school. Connie has always wanted to own a club, and he knew that once he had it, his friends would be coming in every week.
"We installed something new last week," Connie tells both of the men. Jean's eyebrows shoot up while Eren asks Connie what's the new thing. Their friend just smiles, telling them to go look into the basement.
"No way, man. I don't wanna get murdered." Jean huffs, he's scared of the basement. Connie once took him in, and it was the scariest experience in his life, talking about the amount of spider webs.
"If you go, you're not going to regret it," Connie says. Some girl comes up to him, wrapping herself around Connie's body. He smiles at her, kissing the top of her breast.
"I'm busy." he mouths at them before letting himself be taken to the side by the foreign girl.
"Man, I really wanna see the basement," Eren says, drowning the rest of his whiskey. Connie is a smart man when it comes to sex stuff, and he wants to know what he came up with. Maybe he installed some toys that fuck girls in front of people.
Jean groans in disapproval but decides to give it a shot. He quickly swallows his glass, the burning liquor always bringing tears to his eyes.
They both stand up, and Eren leads the way to the basement. It's a lot tidier than before, and there are even posters on the way down. There's only one door unlocked, probably the door the surprise is in.
They stare with wide eyes at a hole in the wall. There's a sign next to it saying 'fuck here'.
"He's not normal," Jean exclaims. They both know what it is. Connie installed a glory hole just for the two of them.
"Is anyone inside?" Eren calls out, making Jean punch him in the arm. Eren chuckles at his joke, it was a good one, wasn't it?
"You're a dumbass." Jean scolds him, coming closer to examine the hole.
The first thing he notices is a pussy peeking through the hole. It's a pretty pussy, all pink with a cute clit between juice pussy lips. It seems like it's already wet. He brushes his fingers against the folds, noting that it's already wet.
You jump when someone touches your pussy. You heard what seemed like two men come into the room. Connie promised that they were his friends and they needed some fun. You volunteer to work in his club, loving sex too much.
Another hand caresses your slit, this hand is rougher than the first one. The first one was rough but delicate at the same time. He was being gentle with you, but on the other hand, had one goal - to make you fall apart.
"Who's gonna fuck her first?" you hear one voice ask, you aren't sure about which hand belongs to that owner.
"You really wanna fuck her?" the other voice asks, the other person is more hesitant. Maybe he doesn't wanna fuck you, even though you want to be fucked.
"Yes, I do, jean. It's a free pussy." you hear one of them chuckle. You hear the guy unbuckle his belt, and you almost shake him in anticipation.
You're nervous, this is something you wanted for so long. sweat rises on your forehead as you finally see a dick poking through the hole. It's so close, but still so far.
His tip rubs against your opening, carefully pushing inside of you.
"Shit, she's too tight." Eren moans, sinking the rest of his cock inside of your pussy. He never had a pussy this tight in his entire life. You're sucking him right in. He feels bad that he can't see the owner of this delicious pussy. His arms brace on the wall separating you from him and Jean. Sweet little moans leave your mouth with every thrust he makes, making Eren laugh.
"She's a moaner." he mocks you, deepening his thrusts. He's pretty sure you can take a lot more than what he has to give you, but he's trying to be generous with you.
"Fuck, I won't be able to last long." he moans, speeding his thrusts so he can catch his orgasm. He doesn't care that you won't cum, you're only a hole for him.
You know he's about to cum, and you try to clench down on his cock even more. He has a nice cock, big enough to satisfy you. You yelp when his hot cum fills your body. You just wish you could see how much leaks out.
"You stretched her out too much for me." Jean rolls his eyes, showing Eren to the side so he can take his place. A slutty moan rips through him when he pushes himself all the way in. It's tight, unbelievably tight. You just took a big cock, but your pussy feels like a virgin's.
"She's good, isn't she?" Eren smirks, his cock hardening again as he watches his best friend pump his cock inside of you. Jean can only nod, your pussy left him speechless.
Connie is a dumbass, but something he has fucking good ideas.
Your body moves up and down with every stroke of his cock. This one is different, he's slower, but he makes sure to hit your insides as deep as possible. He's also a bit fatter than the first cock. You just wish it's the "gentle hands' s" dick.
You feel yourself being slowly tipped over the edge of your high. You cum around his cock, squeezing even tighter. It catches him off guard, and he can do nothing else then cum right inside of you.
"What was that?" he breathes as he tries to get over the orgasm he just had. Eren laughs next to him, "Seems like you made our fuck doll cum."
Both men dress themselves up again, fixing their appearance before going upstairs to the club.
Connie is already waiting for them with a girl wrapped around his body. He wears a cheeky smile.
"You look like you enjoyed it," he says, making you stand in front of him before wrapping his arms around your middle and putting his chin on your shoulder, "Y/n here sure had a lot of fun with you too."
taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @raeeesblog @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007 @herefor-tojis-tits
#aot x reader#aot smut#attack on titan smut#aot headcanons#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x you#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirstein smut#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x y/n#jean kirstein x you#eren jeager x reader#eren jeager smut#eren jeager x y/n#eren jeager x you
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Orange, City Pigeon, Danny & Batfam
@roanawayspoons
WC: 864
CW: Blood, injury
“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t get to be Red by default.”
“Well I can’t be Robin and Hood is a unique identifier.”
“No, nope, just because you weren’t creative enough to come up with something other than Red Robin you shouldn’t get to just claim Red.”
“Creative enough? Oh that’s rich from the man who ripped off the Joker.”
“It was poetic!”
“It was lazy.”
“Look here, bird bones—” …and Tim was gone, Jason thought with a sigh. He turned back to see Tim still before the last jump, staring down into the alleyway with a tilted head. Jason’s hand went to one of his guns. “Red?”
“Blood.”
“And? It’s Gotham. I think the city is held together by blood at this point.”
“Green blood, Hood.”
“How do you know it’s blood then?” Jason asked, but stalked forward to look. Alright, maybe the splatter was pretty distinctive.
That particular shade of green was also concernedly distinctive.
“Well, fuck.”
“Yep.”
“Who bleeds Lazarus water?”
“No clue,” Tim said unhelpfully. “Guess we better find out.”
They dropped silently down into the alley, one after another, and followed the trail of toxic green blood. The trail went cold a few times, whoever was bleeding was clearly trying to hide, but they were inexperienced at it and the Bats had spent enough time stalking through the streets of this city that the cement and stone basically spoke to them. The trail couldn’t hide from them.
Without warning, Jason shot his arm out to stop Tim. He tapped the side of his helmet silently; he heard something. Tim nodded and they fanned out to search. A door in this latest alley they were in was cracked open, like someone had tried to close it and it had bounced back off the latch.
A green hand print was smeared down it.
Jason pulled a gun from his holster, but let Tim go through first. While Jason was far lighter on his feet than someone his size should be, there was no denying that Tim was stealthier. Jason would be just a few steps behind ready to provide the muscles and firepower.
It was odd, then, when Tim purposefully let his foot scrape against the ground as he rounded the corner. Jason just cursed silently as the idiot continued forward, cutting himself off from Jason’s line of sight. “Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out.”
Jason couldn’t hear what was said back; he edged closer.
“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”
The person snorted. “Just… over… then?”
Tim laughed. It was one of his many fake laughs, but the one meant to soothe people in trouble. “Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.
“So… interrogate me?”
“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”
Jason’s hand gripped his gun so tightly it hurt.
The person… the kid laughed. It was a broken sound that no kid should have to make.
Jason had heard it a lot on the streets.
“Maybe I deserve it.” Their voice was raspy, like every word caught in their throat.
Jason came around the corner. The kid went rigid, which was the last thing they needed with how blood seeped from their fingers where their pale hand was clutched against a too big hoodie.
Tim leaned casually into Jason's space in a way he wouldn’t normally, putting on a show for the kid that Red Hood was safe. It was at least true for the kid. Jason leaned back, mostly for the comfort of having his brother close in the face of the sight. Seeing bloody kids never got easier.
“You’re what, sixteen?” Jason asked.
“…fifteen?”
“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”
They shook their head. It dislodged the hood a little. The tangled, chin length hair was startling white and splattered with dried green blood. Jason forced himself to take a breath.
“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid. I’ve got places to put you if you need somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”
The kid laughed again. Somehow it sounded worse this time. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”
“Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?” Tim asked.
The kid looked up. Jason felt Tim tense against him. Hell, Jason tensed. They were the wrong color, but Jason knew those eyes, those brows, that slope of the nose. Everything was just a little sideways, but Jason knew that face. He knew what the kid was going to say.
“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”
---
AN: Happy Trauma Tuesday~
Feel free to continue this, use it as a prompt if you'd like!
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Silly
[Buggy x AFAB!Reader]
Summary: Not being allowed in Buggy's meetings was hard, especially when you craved his attention. So, you came up with a foolproof plan on how to get his attention back on you.
Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Fingering, finger sucking, thigh riding, Buggy calling you baby, not beta read
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: Buggy got me in a chokehold... He's plaguing my mind... I've only watched OPLA, and haven't finished it just yet, so I do apologize if this is OOC.... I just want him, carnally. My friend sent me two prompts so this was formed from that!
“Please,” You ran towards one of Buggy’s crew members. “I need you to give this to Buggy.” You held an envelope.
“Um, he’s in a meeting…” She gave you a concerned look. “He said to not bother him-”
You pouted at her, “It’s so important! It’s for his eyes only! There is no way Buggy is going to let me in the meeting, considering what happened last time…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “But, really, this is important. He needs to see it.” The crew member narrowed her eyes, about to protest, “I won’t let him do anything to you! I promise! He’ll know what it means!”
She agreed. You thanked her. You hightailed it back to Buggy’s quarters, a smile pulling at your lips the entire time. You waited, and waited. And waited. Then you finally heard it.
Buggy’s wrath.
His scream rang through the ship and you grew giddy. You threw your clothes off and jumped into his bed, covering yourself up with just a sheet. You bit your lip in anticipation and waited for the door to open.
Buggy’s foot slammed into the door and it came swinging open. You smiled at him as you lay waiting. His for the taking. Buggy slammed his door.
“You sent me pictures of you naked while I was in a work meeting!”
His voice was full of anger. His fists were balled and you noticed crumpled papers in one of them. You stared at him with an innocent expression. You sat up and let the cover fall slightly, exposing your cleavage.
“They’re nice, aren’t they?” You cocked a brow at him. “The pictures.”
Buggy growled and your stomach flipped. He held up the photos and let out a guttural noise, and you were sure you could not get anymore wet. He took a step closer and you saw the two photos in his hands. One was your wanted poster, but instead of your face it was your naked body, head out of the shot. And the other was you lying on Buggy’s bed, also completely naked.
Buggy tensed, the papers crumpling in his hands. He looked at you with a darkness in his eyes you had not seen before, and it was extremely hot. “Alvida saw one.” His teeth were gritted.
“Oh!” That wasn’t supposed to happen… “What’d she think? Does she still think I’m ‘just a cutie’? Or is her opinion different now?”
“Why does her opinion matter?!” Buggy was on you in a matter of seconds, caging you in.
You swallowed hard. "I mean, it doesn't I guess-" Buggy was inches from you, "I'm just being-"
"Silly?" Buggy asked, head cocking to the side. "You know, I really think you have forgotten what silly means…"
"No, not really," You speak without thinking, "how can I forget when you're so silly!" You smiled widely at him. Buggy did not move, he watched you unblinking.
Finally he threw himself off of you and stood up, grumbling, "You're just as bad as the lion…"
You pouted. Buggy was not looking at you though, he was looking at the crumpled pictures of your naked form. You leaned forward, pulling your knees up and pressing your chest to them. "I can make it up to you… after all, I am all yours." When Buggy turned to you, you continued, "I was being silly sending those, but fuck, Buggy! I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought. You're with Alvida or scheming to get that map-" Buggy dropped the photos to his side and looked at you. "I just want attention sometimes." You placed your chin on the top of your knees and played with the cover.
The papers dropped from Buggy's grasp and he crawled back onto his bed. His gloved hand moved to your chin and he forced you to look up at him. "All you have to do is ask," his eyes stared into yours, his voice low and full of lust. "But I'm afraid I can't stand for the stunt you pulled today…"
"That's what you said last-" You stopped yourself. You did not want to ruin whatever it was Buggy was about to do.
"Hm?" Buggy was not going to let you be quiet. "When did I say that?" He questioned you. "When you decided to act out during the last meeting I let you in? When you were grinding against my thigh and you thought no one would notice?"
Your face was on fire. You nodded.
"And then-" Buggy was inches from you, "-you moaned so loud I had to kick you out?"
"I get it…" You looked away from him. You were just horny and needed an outlet and when Buggy wasn't giving you attention, what were you supposed to do? “My fingers just aren’t cutting it…”
“I can fix that,” Buggy smirked, eyes crinkled. “But, first-” He sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to his thigh. You cocked your head. “You’re going to get yourself off. On my thigh.”
You blinked. “No spanking?”
“‘Cause that worked so well last time, didn’t it.” Buggy rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t be shy now.”
Your face, going down to your neck, was on fire. You scooted towards the other side of the bed and stood up, making your way towards Buggy. He smiled at you; a knowing, shit eating grin. Your heart jumped into your throat. You settled on Buggy’s clothed thigh and inhaled sharply. Your fingers moved towards your clit and Buggy was quick to grab your hand.
“No.” His voice was stern. “Use my thigh. Just my thigh.”
Your hands moved to his shoulders and you gave him a shocked expression. You swallowed hard and began to grind down. Your arms wrapped around Buggy’s neck and you looked down, noticing his pants becoming wet from your pussy. Buggy grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. He was smug to say the least.
Buggy moved one of his hands to your hip and helped you. His leg bounced slightly and you let out a whine. Your grinding continued, you only grew wetter and hornier as you did so. You wanted nothing but to be fucked and Buggy had you using his damned thigh.
“Tell me,” Buggy drawled out, “what do you want?”
“I need you.” You whined, still rocking and grinding. A heat pooling in your stomach. You pushed forward slightly and your clit rubbed against his pants. Your brain malfunctioned briefly. “I need you to touch me-”
“Just cum for me, baby,” Buggy whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want if you can cum for me.”
You let out a whimper and moved your hips faster. Your hips rolled and bucked into his thigh, each time you felt pressure on your clit you whined. Finally you could feel it, your orgasm was getting close.
“Buggy-” You moaned his name, eyes shutting tight, “I’m gonna-”
Buggy’s hands moved to your hips and he stopped you from moving. You froze. You let out a low whine and looked up at him. He cocked his head. “What?”
“Buggy!” You wanted to scream, “I was about to- I was-” You stuttered and stumbled on your words.
“I know, that’s what happens when you pull silly stunts.” Buggy smiled. “But, now… Do you want my fingers?”
You were going to go mad. You could not answer fast enough. “Please! Please, just touch me Buggy. I want to feel you.”
“Anything for you, baby.” Buggy brought his hand up to his mouth and bit his glove, pulling it off in one swift motion. He pulled his other glove off and placed his hands back on your hips. He flipped you easily onto the bed and was looming over you. He watched you for a moment while his hand slowly slid down your side. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Once he reached your pussy, you were sure you were going to combust.
One of his fingers slid into you and and your hips bucked upwards. His fingers reached spots yours could not. He knew what he was doing. Not like you didn’t. But Buggy’s fingers were a lot better than your own, by a long shot.
You wrapped your arms around him once more and pulled him closer to you, close enough for you to kiss his neck. He slid in another finger as you kissed his neck and he was easily making quick work of you. You were puddy in his hands, and he couldn’t enjoy it more. His fingers pumped in and out of you, before he found your clit and rubbed over it. Electricity jolted through you.
“Buggy- Mph!” You mewled for him, “I’m so close. Please-’ Please let me-”
You couldn’t finish your sentence. Buggy decided to be generous at that moment. All he said was “Okay,” and you were coming undone by his fingers alone. Buggy You bucked and cried and pulled Buggy as close to you as possible. Buggy laughed in your ear, and you arched back. Another cry escaping you Buggy started to slow down. He pulled his fingers from you and immediately, without seemingly thinking, popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking.
You watched him with wide eyes. His fingers popped out of his mouth and he smiled down at you. He lowered himself to your face. “You taste delightful dear… It’s a good thing we have all night.”
“You don’t have any other obligations?”
Buggy chuckled, “Not tonight. I’m all yours.” Buggy pushed himself up and over you. “And you are all mine.”
“All yours,” You agreed, nuzzling into him.
“Now, where did you get those pictures taken, hm?” Buggy questioned.
“That’s a secret.” You laughed. “A silly little secret.”
Buggy did not like that answer. He was going to get it out of you one way or another…
#buggy one piece#opla buggy#buggy smut#buggy x reader#opla smut#one piece#one piece smut#op buggy#buggy the clown
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