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gildedmuse · 4 months

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ZoLaw AUs Nobody Asked For Presents....

Fairy Tale Twist

Part One: Abduction!

[This was inspired by watching the first episode of the anime Heaven Official Blessing with @jhaernyl. However, for the purpose of this ficlette all you need to know is the whole thing is your typical fanfic set up: a bunch of young women are disappearing, so in order to solve the mystery our main male character is forced to go undercover as a shy, virginal bride-to-be in hopes that the sexy bad boy will notice him and carry him off to his liar.]

[You know. The only sensible solution to a rash of kidnappings.]

"Please," the old lady begs, tears running down her face as she falls to her knees in front of the trio. "Even if there is no hope for my Liula, this village can't bear to lose another one of our daughters!"

Zoro scratches behind his ear, apparently unmoved by the old ladies tears, as well as the wet faces of the town folks who have gathered all around. It isn't that he doesn't care - he's sure it's hard to misplace a daughter or whatever, though it does seem to him as if it's at least a little the villager's own fault. Why do they keep sending the girls through the forest is they keep disappearing?

"So they're always taken in the forest?" Saga - Zoro's second best friend and training partner - always knows exactly the right questions to ask. He's just good at that kind of detective thing, the way Marines pretend to be. As a crew of bounty hunters, they may not be the most well known or most feared (they certainly aren't their richest) but between him, Kuina, and Saga, Zoro figures they have all the right talents to work their way up to the top, wherever that might be.

For Saga, Zoro is sure that eventually means becoming a marine or, as his overly dramatic friend would put it, "becoming a sword for justice!" Or that's what he says it if you get enough sake in him, though honestly it doesn't even take one drink to notice the look he gets in his eyes whenever a bunch of men in their clean white uniforms go marching pass. Not even Kuina's mocking their stupid insignia ("why do you want a shirt with a pair of boobs drawn on. I've got the real thing and they're nothing but annoying!" / "For the last time, the insignia is the mighy gull! Not a pair of blue boobies!" / "As someone who has seen plenty of both, trust me, no seagull looks like that..not unless it's had some major work done.") or Zoro pointing out he's never seen a single marine carrying a shuangshou jian, which he thinks is the far better argument. After all, Saga wouldn't want to have to get rid of his beloved sword, would be? It's the one thing he has from his parents....

If there is one person who would understand how important a sword can be, it would be Kuina, but he thought Saga would be next.

"Sounds like instead of worrying about your bridal traditions, you should have worked to make sure these girls could protect themselves," Kuina says, her voice low and steady, but there is an undercurrent of anger there. One Zoro finds adults often miss, due to Kuina's former, almost old fashioned, language and proper samurai etiquette.

Her father always said there was more to being a Kenshi than just holding a sword. Unfortunately, one of the things he believes makes for a Kenshi is....

Kuina stands up, bowing politely to the very same adults she'd just been so angry at. "We will find this pirate who is taking your lost daughters and ensure this does not happen again," she promises, and Kuina promises something it's like you can see the threads binding her, holding her to her word. It makes Zoro sit up straighter, happy to be her rival. "If what these girls want is to be married, they deserve to make that choice without some creep ruining it for them."

Kuina's small, and because of that, most everyone underestimates her. Only to be surprised when the girl they had just been laughing at is suddenly behind them, the sharp white blade of Wado Ichimonji pressed against their kidney, with Tenno Megumi clashing against their own steel, stopping them from being able to make a move. She's a fast, technical fighter and a slow, methodical thinker. She probably knows more about Zoro and Saga then the two boys know about themselves and, honestly, Zoro is alright with that. He doesn't even know where he'd keep all that knowledge, but Kuina seems to do a good

They had only come to this island to pick up some Nobody, Kuro of 1000 Cats or something stupid like that, but they had barely dragged him and his crew of losers to the local Marine base when an older woman, face wrinkled and worn from sadness, had grabbed a hold of Zoro's arm.

These people were desperate, and the small four man marine outpost they have seemed unable ("or unwilling," Kuina had muttered only once Saga was distracted - they didn't need to have that fight again) to help against what seemed to be some knd of curse.

"Qell it's not a curse," Saga decided immediately, the three of them gathering just outside of the town hall were the citizen had plead their case. And as much as Zoro hates being distracted from his goal, his one true dream, he has to admit their pleas were.... heartfelt.

"Hmm," Kuina puts her hand to her chin, her foot digging into her dirt as she stares down, her brain trying to ferment a plan of some kind. At the very least a place to begin. "It seems he only comes out when there is a bridal procession. What should we do?"

There is silence as they all contemplate this impossible task.

"I know!" It's Saga who gets a these first, slapping his fist in his hand, and with his eyes burning so bright, Kuina and Zoro are immediately doubtful. This is going to be one of those ridiculous plans like in all his marine centered manga. As far as Zoro has seen, Marines never actually do any sort of undercover work or whatever. They just stupidly fire bullets at things and hope one hits. But that's not how Saga sees them, not at all.

Saga gives a sharp, proud smile, his support of his own plan entirely unwavering. Zoro assumed they would just stare at him until sanity sunk back in but suddenly, he notices Kuina going all stiff, as if a realization had just hit.

"Not it!"

Zoro stumbles some, not used to the usually calm depth that is his number one rival and best friend moving with such a reckless, her arm flying up as of theyre back at the dojo answering questions. "Hey!" He pushes his shoulder back against her. "What are you-"

"Good point!" Saga says, his intensity still bur ing as usual. "I am also not it."

Zoro looks between his two friends. His two companions. His twisted sworn brother and sister. And the evil grins that were creeping up along their faces.

"I am NOT-"

Kuina leans in so hard, Zoro ends up squashed up against Saga. "Your mouth says no," the older girl teases, sluttering her eyelashes in a way that Zoro didn't understan. Was that supposed to make him do something? "But your eyes - and my blades," she adds that bit with a pat at the swords at her side. "Say yes."

At his other side, Saga gives him an unnaturally bright smile despite the narrowed eyes glare Zoro is giving both kenshi. "You really should try and look happier. It's your wedding day after all!" He teased, nd Zoro can only grumble.

He did call not it last, damnit.

"We will just have to set up a convincing bridal procession then!" Saga pulls back, striking what Zoro feels is an all too excited pose considering the fate they've just sealed for him. "Kuina and I will act as guards, while Zoro gakes place of the bride to be. We'll put the whole thing together and make it look just like a real bridal procession! That's how we will draw this scoundrel out!"

The two npeople only seem mildly confused by the bounty hunter's plan. Zoro isn't sure what the confusion is aboit. He's hardly looking forward to this mess, but he does think Saga and Kuina did an excellent job at setting the trap and as for his part, well, he can only hide one of his three swords under the bridal gown, but with the other two concealed in the carriage in easy reach, he doesn't imagine he'll habe any difficulty grabbing for them in time. The whole plan is actually one of their better thought out schemes, so he isn't sure why the villagers take moment to get on board, but eventually they do. They even lend them materials to help make the ruse undetectable.

"I've got this!" Kuina declares in reference to the dress. She isn't much for fu-fu clothes herself - it's all so much fabric for so little practical coverage, and it always has at least one part that hangs in the weirdest way. However, she's had years of practice learning to make men's clothes for her properly so they aren't baggy and in her way and also wouldn't.... disrespect her father (Zoro knows she would never wish to voice this, but he has also seen her on holy days with his image. Holding it as tight as if he were a long honored ancestor. Looking to the stars as if they would grant her his approval.) Plus, she definitely knew what looked good on girls. Just because she doesn't wear fancy kimono and jewelry and other useless pretty things doesn't mean Kuina can't APPRECIATE what other women look like in such elaborate get ups.

It's the make up where they run into something of an issue.

"Katatsumuri," Saga asks, holding out their den den mushi. Him and the snail wince together as Kuina gets angry enough to break the brush shed be using to try and apply Zoro's lipstick, yelling that it was a subpar tool unworthy of its title and a shame to whoever forged its.... it's.... it's stupid hairs or whatever! Grr!

"Can you play a make up tutorial," Saga requests, sitting cross legged in front of Zoro. Luckily, he is very good at copying moves even from videos. Maybe this is why he appreciates marine uniforms so much, Zor thinks, cause they're all neat and orderly and it feels like you have to keep your make up neat and orderly as well.

So with Zoro looking appropriately alluring ("You're a vision," Saga promises, his breathing just a little too rushed considering they haven't even started on the hard part of the quest just yet. "You almost look decent," Kuina laughs, making sure Katatsumuri takes a picture for future reference) they gather everything else they will need for their little nightie deceit. The procession, the carriage, the spooky nighttime forest that the temple lies in the middle of for some reason no one could adequately explained.

"just sit tight," Kuina whispers from the side of her mouth as they walk deeper and deeper into the darkness. "I'm sure this willl-"

"Kuina!?" Zoro knows he is supposed to be sitting there straight and well behaved, just the way he's practiced with that overly nice girl - the one who kept getting a little bit touchy, like Zoro couldn't figure out how to hold his hands just by LOOKING at her; there is no reason to touch - but at his friend's sudden silence he couldn't help but peak out of the carriage window.

Nothing but wind and leaves and darkness.

"Zoro," Saga growls from the other wise..Zoro turns to try and ask him to go check on Kuina. That's what he should do, rather than break character. Good call. "Keep on guar-"

Silence.

Suddenly there is nothing.. No horses. No Marines pretending to be maid in waiting. No guards. No friends. Just darkness, and a low, soft whisper of the wind. Something dark, something.... stirring.

Zoro licks his lips, that awful taste of the lipstick coming off with it. He reaches for the trap door where his two other swords are stored when -

Click.

The door opens a light storm: the fall of rain, wind sweeping through the trees, dark hair, striking eyes, and such long and slender fingers reaching out for him, not grabbing, but making an offering. Holding his hand out for the supposedly young and virginal bride.

And suddenly Zoro can feel it in his chest. This lightness. This heat.

He fumbles, trying to find the damn torch. Where were his matches? Why is he going for the stupid candle and not his swords? What is wrong with him?

"I can't help but notice," the strange is silhouettes in the darkness, out the moonlight behind him offering any glimpse. But that voice. So dark, like a shadow. Like the way a smooth sake feels sliding down your throat. "You seemed to be in trouble, my little lamb. I hope those ruffians didn't cause you any harm."

As if you didn't send those ruffians, only Zoro's voice is entirely gone. The boy's golden eyes pierce through him like an arrow. Where is his voice? It seems the only part of him that can speak is his heart, and that is beating so loud it filled the entirety of the carriage

It only gets louder when the stranger's lips quirk upward, the water running down his hair, his pale skin, sliding around his lips. Making them shimmer and shine in the low candle light. "What a remarkable beauty. How could anyone wish to hurt such an angel?" His hand is still hanging there, half way between them. Zoro licks his lip subconsciously, the water clinging to the stranger's lower lip making him want....

No! He's meant to focus! He is here on a mission, not some silly game.

Yet the way the stranger smiles does leave his stomach feeling all sorts of silly. Are those his finger tips shaking as he reaches out, gently entrusting his hand to the stranger.

Immediately he is being pulled forward, so close it Zoro can't keep the gasp escaping his lips. He's not used to these shoes, there's far too much of them for starters, and the heels catches on the fabric of his dress and-

As he falls foward, the stranger moves in close and through the low light of the moon and a single candle, those gorgeous golden eyes stare right into Zoro's soul, soft and yet certain as he reaches out, easily pulling Zoro into his arms.

Pressed against the man's chest, Zoro understands why so many of those manga he finds Saga hiding away have girls pressed up to marines just like this. The way his heart beats in Zoro's ear, the protective warmth of his arms....

"Where did-"

"You men seem to have run off," The stranger says, holding him close. The hold is gentle and yet formal, as of purposefully being polite and careful with him. "I believe they were trying to lure the attackers away."

He knows that hadn't been the plan, but he can only stare up at the stranger, his cheeks so warm he thinks of lifting the veil, just to get some fresh air. But surely if he saw him that would give them game away.

"Your physical beauty must only be surpassed by that of your heart, to have such a loyal and fearless guard. I would hate to see their bravery go to waste. I don't have much, certainly not lodging worthy of such a precious gem, but there is a small temple nearby that will offer us shealter. I can keep you safe until your entourage regroups. That is, if you will allow it."

His golden eyes are staring down at our hero, soft and intense all at once, and they leave his tongue feeling equally confused: heavy and light at the same time.

"You have my permission to do with me as you please." Zoro hadn't practiced any sort of script, the plan had been to attack and words had seemed unnecessary. He still isn't sure where such a sentiment even came from! What a silly thing to say! He must look like a gu-

Wait, that isn't the what Zoro is supposed to be concerned about. Why does he even care if he looks like a fool!?

Even as he tries to hide himself against the stranger's chest, he catches a glimpse of that smirk. That horribly cocky, confident turn of his lips that leaves the poor kenshi melting, all the heat not coloring in his face pooling much, much lower.

"I shall take you with me then, beauty-ya, and act as your guide until we can reunite you with your proper assembly."

"Mmm," Zoro mutters, voice high and breathless. Perhaps to ensure the act is believable? "Take me with you, unite with me, yes..."

Just an act, that's all. Right, that's why he's doing this. To go along with the plan.

That's why he puts up no struggle as he suddenly finds himself lifted up into the strangers arms. The man's hat keeps his face mostly hidden, but Zoro is sure to memorize the edges of his cheeks, his lips and chin where rivlets of water drip from his dark skin. The beautiful dark ink that covers the strong arms that have Zoro safely held against his chest.

All for the sake of the mission, Zoro reminds himself, leaning his cheek against the stranger's wet shirt, tucking in closer to his warmth as a blue light suddenly involves the both of them.

"Shambles."

And then the forest is quiet, nothing but an abandoned carriage left behind.

#the bounty hunting trio we deserve #shimotsuki kuina #wants to be the world's greeatest swordsman and also a great ppirate of the seas because screw samurai #if women can't be samurai then she will leave the dojo and become something better #Saga One Piece #he has a bit of a marine kink #IT'S NOT A KINK TO CELEBRATE THE BRAVERY OF THE MARINES #no but it is when you want your girlfriend to dress up like one #roronoa zoro #who only knows he wants to be the world's greatest swordsmen #one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #zolaw #I promise Law isn't just out here kidnapping helpless girls #okay he is but it's not as bad as it sounds - the townspeople left out some important information #not that hes helping - he's a pirate; pirates don't help people #however spoiler alert his little sister isn't a piarte and Lami has a lot of pull over her brother's heartstrings #though she's about to have some major competition #Corazon also lives #one piece au #one piece fanfic #I know no one asked for this but its the first real fic I've really written in a long time so it's what you get #the zolaw au nobody asked for #fairy tale twist #part one #law x zoro #later kuina x lami BECAUSE I CAN #all the girls live #my writings

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anantaru · 3 months

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hear me out.. this is fluffy 🥹

imagine wriothesley as a dad, especially a girl dad! (thanks to his teaser for this idea!!!)

cw. ・✶ ｡ none, fluff, established relationship (he's your husband), girl dad wriothesley <3 (she's around 6), fem! reader

the love wriothesley has for his daughter is the purest form of love.

it's new— and he has never felt it before, in fact, it cannot be compared with anything else in this universe.

as it was in his life, wriothesley was severely occupied as the duke of the fortress and such was the wonderful reason as to why he likes to appreciate the little moments that happen in your day to day life with your daughter— the feeling of protecting his child was inexpressible, and in order for him to at least miss you both a little bit less or make it become somewhat bearable, wriothesley finds himself romanticizing the morning hours of the day.

the duke starts his day with greeting you, his wife, and his cute daughter before he helps you to get her ready as much as he can— side note your daughter has his eyes, and if words could describe it only a little bit, she looks just like an angel.

also— it might be silly, or maybe it just looks silly seeing your husband struggle like that, but something about him doing your daughters hair was— by the same token, very cute and quite hilarious.

that's when his alter ego, the quote on quote, “hair stylist wriothesley”, comes into place.

not beating around the bush, but your husband was surprisingly very good at doing her hair. obviously, he does it the same way you showed him, yet he will always add a ridiculous amount of bedazzled hair accessories to her head.

to say that wriothesley was a big fan of glittery, sparkly head pieces would be a clear understatement— but do not try to put them on his hair, this dangerous route will take you to a tickle competition you simply cannot win, not even if you tried your hardest.

the duke didn't see anything wrong with clipping a bunch of radiant hair accessories on her head, even though she might end up looking like a disco ball— not that your daughter minds it, archons, she utterly adored it whenever her dad did her hair!

she was, in fact, the biggest fan of her dad doing it, because they got to spend some quality time together before he would be gone for the majority of her day. how he kneels down behind her while she sits on the little seat in front of her child-sized vanity, looking at her dad through glowy, admiring eyes while he does her hair for the day.

sadly, wriothesley knows that after that he has to work, he must and it will always take him all his power to get going— before that though, he will tell you both goodbye, add a small kiss on his daughters forehead before giving you a small peck on the lips.

how deeply he wanted to spend the day with you two, maybe walk around fontaine so you could shop around— because last time you did that, you actually found a matching outfit for you and your daughter and wriothesley found it to be one of the cutest, little memories in his mind.

he even took a picture of the two of you and keeps it in his wallet at all times now. who knows but when he feels like it becomes unbearable while being apart from his family, he tends to just look at it and smile.

when wriothesley met you, his live truly has changed forever.

you gave him pure, unfaltering love, deep compassion and of course— a family, something he thought he'd never be able to have.

being a parent certainly wasn't an easy task, and it was important to navigate through future differences that might occur one way or the other, more so seek out a good way to find the best possible solution for everybody involved.

not only for your marriage sake, but for your own childs sake— and wriothesley cannot wait to teach her valuable life lessons, about giving love to the world and the importance of following your dreams, opening his arms for his child with kindness, provide his cute daughter with hope, real hope.

while lastly, make his child excited to see this world and grow up with two wonderful parents that love her so very much.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #wriothesley x y/n

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cl-01-kestis · 1 year

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Blood and Honey - Tom Riddle x Female Reader | nsfw

Summary: Your rivalry with Tom Riddle was widely known around Hogwarts, there’s no one you hate more than him. But through the mist of rage and competition, Tom finds himself tempted by a very odd scenario.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, public sex, blood kink, injury description, fingering, cunnilingus, Tom has a borderline fetish for blood consumption, (both of you are 18)

(Part 2 taglist)

If there was one single person, only one, who you could hate the rest of your brief existence, it would be Tom Riddle.

Your reasoning was endless, every interaction was poison. He made no attempt of hiding the fact he hated you either, yet neither of you tried to resolve it.

For 6 years, Tom had been the one person who always got under your skin. He had a habit of teasing your skill, even though it was near the best in each class you sat. You scored 80% and above in each exam you sat, yet he still managed to pluck out the detailed faulty of your knowledge. He was always better than you, he always had to be better than you. He made sure of it.

Sometimes you thought he was better just to grind your gears, all that studying he put in was possibly to aggravate you. You knew it gave him the mightiest pleasure to see you suffer at his hands, he would have it no other way.

Potions class today was no different. You brewed one of the most advanced potions and handed in your thesis to your professor, minding your own business and going your own way. But your chest tightened and your hands turned into fists when you heard his voice nearby, laughing wickedly with his friends who stood by the corridors. You held your books close to your chest, avoiding any eye contact with the group of brash boys.

Tom spotted you but he didn’t say anything, instead he glared at you with a sharp smirk on his pale face. Your eyes found him, but you wish they didn’t. Your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed, your pace unconsciously speeding up.

He watched you with a malicious glint in his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself as you looked away and rushed off, your cloak floating softly behind you. His friends words became a hazy murmur, his mind drifting from their conversation to thoughts of you and your pitiful demeanour. He found himself pondering your flushed face and pretty frown, knowing he caused it the majority of the time.

Tom shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the library, hopeful to squeeze in some studying before dinner time. He wondered if you would be there, but his soft expression moulded into a scowl when he realised how intrusive his thoughts became about you. He licked his lips and entered the library, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You sat silently in the medical ward, eyes full of tears and your hands shaking from pain. You were outside the school grounds for a while with the creatures of the school greenhouses, needing to clear your head, the next minute you were tripping over a flowerpot and cutting your thigh deeply with large gravel. The head healer spent an hour plucking bits of rock from your wound, giving you supplements of pain relief to get you through the process.

Now you sat in bed with your wound open, she claimed it needed to be aired so it healed quicker with the medicine she gave you. But you were still in pain and still somewhat bleeding.

You missed dinner, to your sadness, but the healers made sure to give you some snacks and chocolate frogs to appease the hunger you felt. But you missed the roast dinner and sweet pudding you received every night, your stomach craved it.

You laid back against the soft bed, keeping your injured leg bent so it didn’t rub against the sheets or your other leg. You held a charms book in your hands, shakily flipping the page as you continued reading in the quiet of the ward. You heard the distant footsteps of the head healer, her voice whispering to other students since other patients were sleeping. You tried to block out the noise and continued reading.

Until the door to the ward opened, and in walked none other than Tom Riddle. Immediately, you hid your face in your book and sneakily grabbed the cover a few feet away, tugging it towards you to hide yourself more. You weren’t in a mood to bang heads with him, or even interact with him. The fact he was even in the same room as you made you want to chuck your charms book at him.

He was visiting Avery, you heard him ask one of the healers where he was and she hastily lead him to his bed, which was right beside yours. You cursed Merlin, grateful for the cover blocking his vision from you. Especially because your skirt was hiked up and your tights were off, your bare skin showing. You sat up in your bed, careful not to make any noise possible as you pulled up the covers and laid them over your legs. You weren’t about to be humiliated by your bully, you might as well fling yourself off the astronomy tower.

You heard the both of them bicker, but none of their words registered in your head. Tom was irritated at something, you didn’t really care. Hearing him annoyed made you smirk behind your book, knowing you never heard it often. Tom was a secluded man, he never showed an ounce of anger or irritation towards you when you insulted and constantly one upped each other. He was stone cold, but sometimes he cracked.

You heard Tom scoff at something Avery had said, but you quickly zoned out and found yourself slipping into unconsciousness, too tired to care. One of the healers came over to your bedside and buffed the pillows for you, wishing you a goodnight and making sure you were comfortable before returning to her nightly duties. This caught Tom’s attention, soon he found himself peeking around the cover shielding you. His eyes widened and he missed what Avery had said, completely focused on your sleeping state and the charms book in your hands.

“Hey, did you even listen to what I just said?” Avery frowned, fussing over his broken finger which was healed without hassle over an hour ago. He was taking up the bed when he didn’t need to, and Tom was here to drag him out. But now Tom was dwindling on the thought of why you were here, if you were hurt or recovering from an injury. He found himself lingering on you with concern, but his attention begrudgingly turned back to Avery after he continued to whine.

“Abraxus is waiting for you in the common room, don’t make him wait any longer than necessary” Tom instructed with narrow eyes, similar to a snakes.

“Aren’t you coming?” Avery raised a brow, cradling his bandaged finger.

“No, I have other matters to attend to” Tom dismissed Avery, who nodded his head and made his way to the infirmary exit.

Tom waited for Avery to leave until turning his attention back to you. You were still sleeping, the covers hiked up to your waist as you slept. Tom pulled up a chair and sat down at the corner of your bed, taking the charms book from your hands to inspect it curiously. This caused you to shuffle and peek one eye open, dread filling your heart as you realised who sat at the end of your bed.

“Hey, give that back!” You sat up, trying to snatch the book back from toms hands, but the Slytherin smirked and leaned back in his seat.

“Not until you tell me why you’re here. Let me guess, you were clumsy as always and had an accident?” He cackled, a shit eating grin on his charming face as he put his arm up while still holding your book. You were unable to reach it now.

You sat back in your bed, crossing your arms and scowling at him as he placed the book back down into his lap and opened the pages.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Tom, and for the record I am not clumsy” You frowned deeply, moving your foot to kick him square in the knee, causing another laugh to escape his pale lips.

“You obviously are, you always have been” He shot back. “I bet you broke your leg, or maybe you sprained your ankle?” He continued to toy with you until your face was red with embarrassment.

“I cut my leg okay? Just leave me alone” You looked away, suddenly finding the bedside table very interesting. Toms grin didn’t disappear, but he was curious about how your leg looked.

“That’s it? Just a small cut?”

“It’s not small, the nurse spent an hour taking out rocks and little bits of gravel from my leg” You sit up, peeking under the covers and noticing you bled on the sheets. Cursing, you lifted up the covers a tiny bit, revealing the top of your thighs to Tom who quickly fell silent and looked down at your charms book. He didn’t like you, but he wasn’t a pervert. He wanted to at least respect your privacy.

You brought your legs out from the bed, grabbing bandages from the side of your bed and unravelling them to wrap around your leg. Tom watched quietly, noticing the trickle of blood trailing down your shin after you placed your feet on the ground.

“You’re bleeding” He stated.

“Yeah I can see that, idiot” You sneered, wiping the blood with your hands instinctively and cursing as you smeared the blood further. Tom rolled his eyes and stood up, dragging his seat with him as he quickly summoned a pack of towels with his wand. You fell silent as he sat in front of you, sighing loudly as he placed the towels down on the dresser and looked down at your bleeding leg.

His eyes widened almost immediately, a pang of shock flooding his system as he watched the crimson liquid seep from your deep wound. He didn’t expect it to be this bad, the blood was all over your hands and smeared over your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess” He grumbled, grabbing the towels and grabbing your ankle so he could set it on his leg. You shoved him off and glared at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice was wary, not matching the angry glare seeping into his skin. You sounded confused, not hostile.

“I’m trying to help you” He snapped back.

“But why? I didn’t ask for your help-“

“Just shut up and give me your leg” Tom raised his voice, his eyes flickering up to yours as a warning. Your jaw snapped shut, bottom lip poking out just a bit further as you gave in and raised your leg. Tom muttered a ‘stupid girl’ and pressed the towel to your leg. You looked away and screwed your eyes shut, hissing at the stinging pain as he delicately dabbed the towel onto your wound.

“Stay still, you’re moving too much” He muttered in frustration, his grip on your ankle intensifying as he turned the towel around to catch more blood. You looked down at your hands, just as you were about to wipe them on your skirt he stopped you.

“Are you stupid? Here, let me” He grabbed your hands, his touch oddly soft yet commanding. Toms hand pressed against yours, the blood transferring onto his skin and causing his fingers to get sticky. His motions slowed, his eyes stuck on your clasped hands as the blood seeped through the cracks of his fingerprint. His eyes darkened, his throat suddenly dry and his stomach tense.

Your blood was on his hands, he realised. You started to get anxious at his silence and stillness, ready to ask what was wrong. But the boy simply stared and turned your hand over, his thumb caressing your palm. Tom gulped, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he let go of your hand and inspected his own bloodied one. Your blood started to dry on his skin, the smell of iron filling his senses. His mouth watered.

“Is everything okay?” You asked worriedly, leaning forward to your knees were touching. Tom nodded his head, his hands starting to tremble as he looked away from the blood and into your eyes. He swallowed again, his hand creeping back to hold your one as his eyes trailed to your lips. The feeling of blood between your palms was a strange sensation, you felt like you needed to wash your hands, but Toms skin felt like a dream against your own.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You whisper with a heavy breath, your heart beating erratically fast.

“If that’s what you want?” His voice sounded so soft, so vulnerable all of a sudden as his bloody hand cupped your cheek, his thumb skimming the skin of your cheek.

Without hesitation, you nodded, and Tom gently pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. They were softer than you imagined, because admittedly, you thought of kissing him before. All that pent up frustration made you think of him differently overtime, no matter how much you hated him. You can’t deny you’ve pictured yourself in this situation many times.

Tom was so delicate with you as his other hand pressed against your unharmed leg, pulling you onto his lap as he leaned back into his chair. You straddled his waist, your lips departing momentarily as your breaths mingled together, right before he pulled you back in and kissed you fiercely. He cradled your body against his, bringing one of your hands up to his face before pulling away.

Tom took one of your bloody fingers into his mouth, licking the crimson substance off your skin which shot a shrill of excitement up your spine. Toms mouth was so hot and inviting, his tongue eager. You couldn’t help but whimper quietly as he bit one of your fingers, jutting his hips up into yours as you cupped his face with your free hand, getting blood on his jaw.

You kissed once again, his tongue entering your mouth, carrying the strong taste of iron. You tasted your blood before realising you were being pushed back onto the bed. Tom looked down at your thigh which was still wet with fresh blood and his eyes glistened with excitement, he crouched down so he was face to face with your uplifted skirt and revealed panties, but he didn’t look to them at the moment.

Toms tongue caught the stains of blood from your wound and lapped it up like a man deprived from water. Your hand flew to his hair, gripping it as you gasped at his surprising ministrations. Tom didn’t go near your wound in fear of infecting it, but he didn’t shy off the blood surrounding it.

“Oh Merlin… Tom, please” You cry silently, arching your back. Tom glanced up to your panties, noticing the obvious wet patch which grew bigger as time went on. He smirked against your skin, raising his arms and hooking his fingers underneath each hem of your panties.

The both of you were aware you were in a public area, so Tom quickly grabbed another cover from the ward beside you and shielded the both of you from anyone who might’ve come in at the wrong time. You sighed out in relief before Tom was back on you, his attention now on your skirt and underwear. He resumed removing your small garments that, really, left nothing to the imagination.

“Do you want me to continue?” He looked up at you with a soft gaze, noticing the nervous hints of your expression. You nodded your head eagerly, raising your hips so he could pull off your panties easier. Tom smiled and kissed you passionately as he put your underwear in his pocket, his hands slipping under your skirt and gripping your bare hips. You tried your best to keep quiet underneath him, but he was making it near impossible.

“How much do you need me?” Tom asked, trailing his lips down your neck and whispering against your pulse. You closed your eyes, using his shoulders as support as he grazed your tummy with his slender fingers.

“More than I can admit” You flush, leaning your head back to give him further access to your neck. Tom smirked against your skin and unzipped your skirt, pulling it off in one quick motion.

“You’re too full of pride to admit how much you crave me, I know you’ve thought about it, you’ve been anticipating this moment” He laid between your legs, his elbows stopping his body from fully leaning on you.

“I’ve been wanting this too, in class I’ve found myself picturing you bent over a desk, screaming my name” His hand found your exposed pussy, causing you to let out a choked moan. You felt like your skin was on fire, feeling too hot underneath your shirt and tie.

“Touch me, please” You gasp, Tom quickly covered your mouth with his free hand and leaned back so he sat back on his knees, positioning you so your head was against the pillow.

“We can’t be too loud now, darling, you need to stay quiet for me, okay?” He soothed your whines, kissing your forehead before focusing his attention below. His eyes shadowed over with desire, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

His thumb pressed against your clit, massaging small circles against it which caused your legs to tense up. You closed your eyes and struggled against his hand, holding onto his wrist as he brought his other hand up and lathered it with spit. He inserted his finger inside you slowly, careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable as he leaned down and kissed your neck. You used your free hands to undo your tie and unbutton your shirt, exposing your bra to Tom’s greedy eyes. He made a pathway of bites and kisses down to your breasts, all whilst thrusting his finger inside of you. You watched as a loose curl dropped in front of his eyes, making a fairly disheveled appearance. He watched as he inserted a second finger, enamoured with the way you stretched.

You tilted your hips up and hummed against his palm, throwing your head back slightly when he started to curl those two fingers. You grabbed the wrist once more, your grip tight but not enough to distract Tom from his goal. He directed his fingers towards that special spongy place inside you, causing you to nearly curl up into a ball if it weren’t for him keeping your legs apart.

“You’re soaking for me, fuck” He cursed lowly, picking up his speed which made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You trembled against the mattress, cunt squeezing around his skilled fingers as he kept punching your g-spot.

You tapped his hand, signalling to take it off your mouth. Tom quickly removed his hand, pushing a few strands stuck to your sweaty skin away from your face. He noticed your puffy lips and glazed eyes, smiling fondly as he watched your expression contort with pleasure.

“Oh god” You whisper, reaching up to grab his shoulder.

“Say my name” He pleaded as quietly as he could, his thumb returning to your clit and circling it softly which caused another adoring reaction from you. Your grip tightened against the material of his prefect blazer, but Tom didn’t care about the crinkles you caused. He leaned down and pressed his body against yours, your mouth was just beside his ear.

“Tom- please… I need you so bad” You sobbed, voice muffled by his shoulder. Tom cradled your head as his fingers worked harder on your pussy, leading up to an almost life changing orgasm. You felt your body tense, goosebumps scattering quickly as you started to climb your high. Tom peppered kisses over your flushed cheeks and forehead, down to your jaw where he sucked a dark love bite, marking you as his.

“You gonna cum, darling? Do it, do it for me” Tom mumbled, his voice verging on a whine as he watched you unravel. You squeezed your eyes shut, body freezing completely as the feeling of sharp, hot white pleasure ripped through you. It was more than difficult trying to keep quiet, tears trailed down your temples as you suppressed a scream. Tom kept curling his fingers into you to help you ride out your orgasm, feeling a sense of pride as he watched you twist and turn with unbearable pleasure.

Your breaths were ragged, you sounded like you’d been through 10 rounds of Quidditch with no breaks. Your legs shook at either side of Riddle as he gently removed his fingers from you, coated with your slick honey. He placed his fingers in his mouth and hummed, his tongue licking up the goodness of your climax. You felt yourself become aroused once more just by watching him taste your cum, you needed him all over again.

But to both of your devastation, the infirmary doors opened and a couple of healers walked in with new patients, thankfully going to the opposite side of the ward and away from you and Tom. The Slytherin pressed a wet finger to his lips, smirking as he lifted up your skirt and bent down.

You held back the combination of a giggle and a moan as he went down for a full taste, his lips kissing your inner thighs and right above your clit.

The two of you heard the nurses converse about treatments and diagnostics, all whilst Tom slipped his tongue inside you and held both of your legs over his shoulders. You had to keep your eyes open, alert in case either of the nurses came and checked on you at the wrong time. But Tom was distracting you terribly, to the point you quivered and kept looking down at his mop of dark curly hair between your legs.

He was just as skilled with his tongue as he was with his fingers, which caused difficulty when it came to keeping silent. You threw your head back against the pillow, your fingers lacing with his hand and giving it a gentle tug as he devoured you. Tom groaned against you, hands on your hips and guiding you easier to his eager mouth.

You wanted to cry, everything felt so good. Too good. You couldn’t remember how you got here, but by Merlin you never wanted it to stop.

You already felt your second orgasm approaching, the muscles in your body tensing once more as another tear left your eye. Tom was relentless, cruel with the flicks of his tongue as he glanced up at you struggling to keep your composure.

The peak of your climax creeped up on you suddenly, making you grab the pillow underneath your head and use it as a muffler as you let out a pained groan, thankfully not loud enough for the nurses to hear. Tom suckled your clit as you fell off that beautiful drop in your stomach, hips stuttering against his jaw as he held them down and continued lapping at your arousal. You cried, eyes shut and teeth clamping on the pillow as you used every cell in your body not to scream.

Tom pulled back when he felt he was satisfied enough with your orgasm, using his fingers to catch the sticky substance near his mouth that he couldn’t quite reach with his tongue. You kept your face hidden under the pillow for a while, still too fucked from the wonderful feeling between your legs. Tom carefully slid himself away from your legs, planting soft kisses on each one before clambering off the bed and back into his own seat, right beside your head.

“Darling?” His voice was quiet, eyes glancing down at you with slight concern. He wondered if he went too far, if you couldn’t handle the torment he gave. But he saw your sly smile immediately after you removed the pillow from your red face, eyes glazed over with pure satisfaction as you looked up at him.

“You should’ve done this far before now” You chuckled softly, your hands still grasping the pillow tightly. Tom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair off your face once more and finding himself enamoured by the sight in front of him.

For the first time, a moment of peace dispersed between you two. There was no bickering, no insults, no battling it out until the other proved them self to be better. There was blissful, adoring peace. Tom placed his hand over your one, noticing it was still shaking from earlier.

“How are you feeling? Do you need any water? Any sugar?” He asked, his eyes tracing the shape of your face whilst his thumb brushed the skin of your knuckles. Your smile grew wider, nodding your head as you gestured to the glass of water on your bedside table. Tom helped you sit up, buffing your pillows and handing the glass of water over to you. He pulled the covers over your bare legs, protecting whatever modesty you had left as he contained doting over your hair. You didn’t want to know how bad you looked right now, but you felt very spoiled with Tom’s attentive nature.

“I feel bad” You whispered.

“How come?” The Slytherin prefect asked curiously.

“You didn’t get to finish” You frown, looking at the obvious tent in his pants as he let out a brief scoff.

“Don’t think about it too much, you can repay me when you feel better” He winked, causing you to roll your eyes.

Tom made sure you looked presentable for the nurses before leaving, and it just so happened he timed it perfectly.

The head healer peeked through one of the covers shielding your privacy, asking if it was okay to come in after noticing Tom’s presence. The both of you nodded and Tom seemed to get the hint when she showed you a thick pack of bandages and more medicine.

“I think it’s best that you go back to your dorm, Mr Riddle, don’t want to be out past curfew now” The healer smiled fondly at the two of you, sensing something was going on but minding her business nonetheless.

“Of course, my apologies if I’ve outstayed my welcome” Tom stood up, but not before giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before making his way out. He bowed to the healer, then you. He wished the both of you a goodnight before vanishing into the shadows outside the covers. You immediately felt lonely without him, but the nurse seemed to dissipate your sudden separation anxiety. She sat down in the seat Tom did and asked for your leg.

“He’s a good boy that one, dear” The nurse grinned, sterilising your abrasion before wrapping it in bandages.

“Yeah… he certainly is” You chuckled.

#x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #harry potter smut #tom riddle smut #Harry potter x reader

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formulaforza · 9 months

Text

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus.

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away.

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance.

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show.

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo.

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again.

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister.

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick.

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves.

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league.

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol.

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask.

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care.

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you.

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem.

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut.

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension.

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving.

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled.

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion.

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold.

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig.

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand.

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses.

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache.

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils. His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad.

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first.

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions.

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you.

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy.

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt.

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble.

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets. A woman can only make so many sacrifices.

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check.

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth.

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open.

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth.

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll. You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air.

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts.

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning.

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other.

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him.

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return.

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess.

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily.

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal.

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you.

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms.

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment.

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you.

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work.

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember.

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t.

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled.

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky.

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point.

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t.

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace.

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged.

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder.

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time.

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble.

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway.

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together.

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me!

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky.

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole.

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed.

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer.

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost.

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements.

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right.

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors.

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response.

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock.

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?”

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.”

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer.

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe.

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.”

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.”

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern.

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them.

It won’t be happening again.

#oi #this is getting me sent to hell.#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #ferrari

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katakaluptastrophy · 6 months

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There's so much going on at the end of the anniversary dinner.

There's Cytherea saying the dinner was "useful" and affectionately referring to the Fourth as "the children", when it of course transpires that the dinner was useful for identifying who to murder first, and when she will hunt and torment those children just weeks later.

Then, as the Fourth's whispered conversation about biceps grows in volume, this happens:

Their hisses carried. Abigail, who was standing nearby deep in conversation with one of the Second, reached out a hand to touch Isaac lightly on the shoulder in reproof. She did not even turn around or break off talking. The Fourth adept winced: his cavalier had a hard, resentful, told-off expression on her face.

The Fourth seem particularly upset by Abigail's silent warning. And with good reason. Isaac is the Baron of the Fourth. We know from the Cohort Intelligence Files that his father's title was held in stewardship. We also know that Abigail managed to get them rejected from the Cohort on age grounds, despite the fact that when they applied they were several years older than Judith was when she joined up. Which raises a interesting question: what is the Houses' definition of legal majority and does it differ by House? Did their rejection on age grounds perhaps have something to do with their education on the Fifth? Would they have been eligible on the Fourth, but were still considered children and in education on the Fifth? Regardless, at 13 Isaac is holding the title of Baron and Jeannemary is his cavalier primary. They are there formally as House scions in contention for Lyctorhood. They are, we have to assume, at this point in some legal way adults as far as the society of the Nine Houses is concerned. And there is Abigail - Abigail Pent, Lady of the Fifth, the House at that moment apparently actively annexing the Fourth - treating them as if they are still children and under her authority in public. Of course they're upset.

This isn't to say that it wasn't an otherwise prosaic family interaction and that they don't have a loving and very familial relationship with the Fifth - we see them bobbing around after Magnus and in and out of the kitchen before the dinner, happily acting like the Fifth's children. But the casualness with which Abigail shushes Isaac is inescapably, for all of them, also political.

And Cytherea immediately picks up on this. It's what seems to provoke her moment of candid reflection on House politics to Gideon:

Dulcinea murmured, “Oh, Gideon the Ninth, the Houses are arranged so badly … full of suspicion after a whole myriad of peaceable years. What do they compete for? The Emperor’s favour? What does that look like? What can they want?

Cytherea perceives this interaction as political. As evidence that she's right - that the whole system is broken. She sees competition in Abigail's parental gesture, and suspicion in the frustration of teenagers who want to be grown ups. And she kills them all.

And there's two rather awful thoughts that follow from this.

The first is the extent to which Jod's shitty system poisons things. Abigail Pent, who just wants to nerd out about ghosts but is very good at whatever job she sets herself to, has a marriage with a man that she loves as an equal...and over whom she holds life and death authority three times over, as his feudal lord, as his boss, and as his necromancer. He dies because he is her cavalier, even though it's suggested that his cavaliership was in part Abigail's gesture against having to participate in the whole system in the first place and evidence of her plans to escape it. And despite the fact that they clearly loved the Fourth as their own, every gesture of that love was also inescapably part of a political manoeuvre set in motion by previous leaders of the Fifth to draw the Fourth further under their control. And with Isaac still, at least on paper, holding authority in his own right, prosaic parts of that relationship suddenly become matters of state and not the teenage drive for independence. And Cytherea looks at this and, for all her hatred of Jod, is unable to see him as the poison at the root of it.

Worse, we don't know what happened next. We know eventually the Fifth went to the Facility, but what did the Fourth do? Did they make up, and say their fond goodnights? Or is part of the Fourth's hysterical grief as they try to summon the Fifth's ghosts at the crime scene because they slunk off after this, and it was the last time they ever saw them alive?

#the locked tomb #tlt #abigail pent #magnus quinn #isaac tettares #jeannemary chatur #cytherea the first #tlt meta

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amakumos · 1 year

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CUPID'S CHRONICLES — an enhypen smau series.

with the help of cupid's corner, a twitter account where you can send anonymous confessions to your crush, finding love is easy at decelis academy.

author's note. this series is recommended for you to read in order! please check the taglist status on the main post of a specific smau, not here. this post is just to organise all 7 smaus and put them all in one place to show that they're one series : ) taglists will be opened according to a specific smau, so unfortunately being tagged in general for all 7 won’t be possible :( apologies! please check the main post for EACH smau to know if the taglists are open, not here!

RIKI'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CORNER (COMPLETE)

synopsis. because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

JUNGWON'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CONFLICT (COMPLETE)

synopsis. as the man behind cupid's corner, jungwon is responsible for getting majority of the couples at decelis together (namely, riki and his girlfriend.) but there's one person that always gets in the way of half of the couples that jungwon sets up together — you. you are the polar opposite of yang jungwon, affectionately called "evil cupid" by your friends, as you have the unfortunate ability to break any couple up within a couple of weeks just by taking a picture with them. it's not intentional, you tell jungwon. what's also not intentional, is when jungwon finds himself crushing on you.

JAKE'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CURE (ONGOING)

synopsis. as the new admins of cupid’s corner, gunwook and eunchae make it their mission to get back some of the couples that jungwon’s girlfriend had unintentionally broken up. one of the couples on their list are you and jake sim, also known as the self proclaimed “rizzler of oz”. you haven’t talked to jake since the breakup — because one, you don’t think you’re quite over him yet, and two, you have zero reason to speak to him! that is, until eunchae works her “magic” — she decides to post a confession (apparently coming from jake himself), saying that he still loves you.

HEESEUNG'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CONNECTION (IN PLANNING.)

synopsis. the volleyball team is hell-bent on setting up lee heeseung with someone, but they don’t know that heeseung’s already deeply infatuated with someone in his accounting class — you. but when heeseung tells the team who you are, he’s completely shocked by what he learns about you. you’re logical, rational and has great common sense — so how the hell are you hyungyeom's older sister?

SUNGHOON’S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CRUSHED! (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. former competitive figure skater park sunghoon has been crushing on you for years. even though he doesn’t skate anymore, and even though he never really sees you around school, you’re always stuck in the back of his mind. so, when jake’s girlfriend introduces sunghoon to all of his friends, sunghoon immediately hits it off with taerae — with jake even stating that he’s been “replaced”. apparently, you’re close friends with taerae too — and sunghoon only realises that you’re taerae’s ex when he’s fallen too deep.

JAY'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S COURT (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. everyone knows that jay loves soccer — maybe a little too much. but, when jay sees that you insult his favourite sport on twitter, he’s deeply offended. despite having zero positive feelings towards you, he makes it his mission to change your mind about soccer, because in his opinion, it’s the greatest sport of all time — but he finds that he ends up falling for you instead.

SUNOO'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CALLING (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. kim sunoo is very single. it’s not like he’s seeking for a relationship though — it’ll come when the time is right, he thinks. but when he gets a phone call from a random number one day, with the other person on the line starting a conversation, sunoo thinks he might’ve just fallen in love. slight issue, he doesn’t know who you are, and he also doesn’t know that this was another one of eunchae’s antics to get all of her friends into a happy relationship.

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lemonlover1110 · 9 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 10] Late Nights

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru’s behavioral change is something that you never really expected. It seems that he’s warming up once again, even though you’re not giving him the attention he desires. He wants you to be the sweet and loving woman that you were when you were in a relationship, but you aren’t that woman. But it’s fine with him, he’s still warming up and treating you like an actual human being.

The bar is low, but you don’t really expect much from spoiled little Satoru.

For some reason, you’re not liking this change though. You prefer him as the cold and mean boss that would snap and berate you due to a minor mistake. Maybe it’s because he’s molding and reminding you of the man that you used to love and you don’t want to see traces of the past relationship. Ren is the only reminder you need, and the best reminder because he reminds you how Satoru left you without an explanation.

You hate how he suddenly drops the mean act and is sweet; professional but still sweet. He tries to make an effort by asking how you’re doing, asking you to take breaks during work hours so you don’t tire yourself out so quickly (knowing that sometimes you have to run some errands for his mom), and whenever he orders food he asks if you want anything. You wonder what his mom said to him especially when you remember how he broke down and hugged you out of nowhere. She definitely said something to him.

“Have you started sending out the invitations?” Satoru asks, and you hum in response. Even though he knows you’re busy, sometimes you can’t get out of the task of working late nights. There’s so much to do in one day sometimes, and it’s especially busy with an upcoming charity event. It’s an event that his father would host each year but it consequently stopped when his mother got a hold of the company. Since Satoru is officially the president of the company, he’s honoring his father by bringing back the event– Additionally, it brings great publicity to the company, but that’s just an added bonus.

“Around one hundred people have said yes, a handful declined, and we still have a lot of people that haven’t opened it or are just thinking about it.” You inform him.

“Have the Zenins said anything? Any of them?” He’s curious to know their response, and you try to recall. You remember the Zenin name coming up a lot while growing up, you never really got to understand the relationship between that family and the Gojos. They’re in constant competition yet they still invite each other to big events.

“Yeah… They declined.” You answer when you remember. He feels relieved to know that. They’re the last group of people he wants to see… A bunch of complicated snobby pieces of shit. He quite literally doesn’t understand why his father insisted on inviting them to every major event. He remembers Naoya, mainly because they went to school together, and that boy was unbearable. Satoru was lucky that he was a year younger. “I remember one of the Zenins–”

You can’t quite remember his name, and you try to remember the name. It’s on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite get it. Until Satoru speaks up, “Naoya.”

“Yeah! He asked me out when I was like sixteen. Really awkward… He told me that I’d never amount to nothing and it’d be weird to see him and show him that he was right.” You share, and Satoru finds himself surprised at the information that you share. How has he never heard of that?

“Good thing that you rejected him. Suguru and I would’ve never allowed that relationship to happen anyway.” He responds, and you raise your brows. It’s weird why he’s bringing it up, but you’re more curious as to why Suguru of all people wouldn’t allow that to happen. You understand why Satoru would’ve been upset– But not Suguru. You chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously, wondering if you should ask the question that comes up in your mind. In the end you ask,

“Why wouldn't Suguru have allowed that relationship to happen?” And Satoru isn’t sure how to respond. He isn’t sure whether to dismiss the question and get back to work, or to answer honestly. Satoru’s eyes shift back to his computer before he says anything.

“He used to have a crush on you back then.” He clears his throat, grabbing his water and taking a sip of it. You find yourself a bit taken back, a stupid smirk on your lips and it pisses him off. You shift in your seat, adjusting yourself so your back is straight.

“Suguru had a crush on me?” You sound so fucking proud of it, and it takes everything in Satoru to remain his composure. You repeat the question, sounding even more proud than the last time.

“Yeah, he did.” Satoru says through gritted teeth. You’re way too ecstatic to even care about how he talks. His hands form into fists and he tries to hide them from you. “Why does it matter anyway? We ended up dating.”

“I’m just wondering… We all wonder how life would’ve turned out differently if we had made different decisions.” You answer, and he scoffs. When his hands are visible again, your eyes fall on your wedding band. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we’re here to work.”

“You’re right.” He nods his head in response. He focuses on what you have to do before you go back home. He’s sure you’re in a rush to go back home to your stupid cat.

“Plus, you’re married to someone else. It doesn’t matter if I had chosen to date him.”

He bites down on his lip. He guesses you’re right. He’s not allowed to get upset. After all, he did leave you without an explanation. Maybe he should’ve let Suguru get with you.

“Mommy!” Ren yells, the biggest smile on his face when he sees you. You always welcome him with open arms, picking him up from the floor and filling his little face with kisses. Even though you’re exhausted by the time you get home, you always manage to find energy to spend some quality time with him.

As you pay attention to him, brushing his hair out of his face with your fingers, the nanny collects her stuff and says her goodbyes before leaving. It’s your daily routine. While you greet him, she leaves without missing a beat. “Are you hungry, Ren?”

“No.” He answers, and while he says that, your stomach growls. Satoru offered to buy food but you rejected the offer since you wanted to leave as soon as you could. Ren, being the honest little boy that he is, points it out, “Sounds like you’re hungry, mommy.”

“I am. I’m gonna order something.” You say, definitely too tired to cook something up. You smile at him, tilting your head to the side, “Do you have any ideas?”

“Pizza.” He doesn’t waste a second, and you chuckle. You figured. You kiss the top of his head and you put him down on the floor before reaching into your purse to grab your phone. You find a couple of messages on your phone from different people. Mrs. Gojo telling you that you need to talk, a similar message from Shoko, and then Suguru checking up on you.

First thing’s first, you order your food delivery before you send a message to Suguru. You then call Mrs. Gojo, and within the first ring, she picks up the phone. She doesn’t bother greeting you before saying, “What’s up with Satoru?”

“I have no idea. I’m his secretary, not his babysitter nor his mother.” You respond, too tired to care about the way you speak to her. “You should know.”

“I swear to God, if you said anything to him–” She stops mid sentence and takes a deep breath. “Do you have an idea of what’s going on?”

“I have no idea. What did Satoru do?” You ask her. You hear her sigh.

“I’ll talk to him. I’ll call you if I need anything.” She says before hanging up the phone. You turn your full attention to Ren, deciding that anything else can wait until he’s asleep. You walk over to him and crouch down to his level.

“You wanna watch a movie, Ren?” You ask him and he nods in response. He follows you as you walk over to the couch to look for the remote control.

“Can we eat ice cream, mommy?” He looks at you with puppy eyes, and it’s hard for you to say no.

“After dinner, Ren.” You tell him, taking a seat on the couch. He takes a seat next to you, laying his head on your lap.

You will always hold some sort of resentment towards Satoru, but you will always be thankful for the little boy that rests his head on your lap. Ren is your whole world.

When Ren is sound asleep, you find yourself on the couch, finger hovering over Suguru’s contact. And just as you’re about to call him, someone calls you first. The man that you were just thinking of. You don’t waste a second picking up the phone and putting it to your ear.

“Hey, Suguru.” There’s a dumb smile on your face. It becomes bigger when he says your name. You don’t waste any time considering your eyes are shutting on their own. You’ve texted the entire night, talking about trivial things. You just have to come out and say it, “Satoru told me that you liked me back in the day.”

“Is that so?” Suguru responds, and you hum. You bite down on your lip, waiting for him to say something else. Any other time you would be embarrassed to just say that, but your brain is barely functioning, and your confidence is extremely high. “What do you think?”

“That if you had said something before Satoru then…” You swallow thickly. Would you have chosen Suguru over Satoru? After realizing just how immature Satoru is, right now you say you would’ve chosen Suguru. Back then though… It doesn’t matter now anyway. “Maybe Ren would’ve been your kid.”

“Is that so?” You hear how he’s holding back on laughing. Finally you hear a chuckle. “Is that your way of shooting your shot?”

“Maybe…” You respond, and you’re lucky you’re half asleep when you’re saying all of this. The silence would be your biggest embarrassment at any other moment. You smile as you hear,

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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evanchantingpeters · 15 days

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind.

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

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

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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fcwoso · 6 months

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Morning motivation · Alexia Putellas

Summary: alexia needed motivation to conquer the day, reader makes a poor attempt and somehow succeeds (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

Alexia was a major perfectionist. Everything had to go well from the beginning of the match until the final whistle. It was impossible, though. Football was an unpredictable sport, but not for the Spanish midfielder. No, she had it under control, that's what she had convinced herself throughout the years as a professional. She felt this intense fear of failure, afraid of breaking the promise she made to herself years ago. She promised to be the best at what’s she’s doing in order to make her family, fans and loved ones proud. Somehow, it turned into an unhealthy mindset, pushing herself to the maximum each time she felt like she didn't do enough.

This mindset got worse when she came back from her ACL injury. Insecurity kicked in once she started to play along her teammates who she currently almost considered as competition. The two Ballon d’Or awards didn’t do enough convincing, even though she saw them every morning right after she woke up. She needed more. She needed reassurance and she found it in you.

‘’Ale, you really need to get up. Training is about to start.’’ You two were currently laying in your bed, Alexia’s alarm had woken up the both of you. She had a match at noon, but Jonatan decided to plan in an early training, just to make sure everyone’s ready and in good form. You heard a small groan leave your lover’s mouth and immediately knew she was having one of those days. A strong arm was resting on your waist, pulling you closer. She wished she could just forget her obligations and continue the nice sleep she was having, but she couldn't. The whole team was counting on her, the captain had to put her own wishes aside in order to fulfill theirs.

You squeezed Alexia’s tense shoulder before stroking her warm cheek, pushing away the streaks of hair that were covering her tired face. You saw an adorable pout forming on the blonde and couldn’t help but chuckle at her childlike antics. ‘’Are you seriously laughing at me?’’ She mumbled and finally opened her eyes, face partly disappearing in her pillow. You shook your head before leaning in to press a few gentle kisses on her forehead, making the small frown disappear and decided to keep this closeness.

‘’Of course not, I could never do that.’’ Was the reply that left your mouth, it was an honest one. You could never laugh at Alexia’s misery, as she would call it because that’s how she experienced this chaos. A training bag was laying in the corner of the room, untouched by the woman who’s legs were still entangled with yours under the cozy, warm covers.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her nose to prevent her eyes from closing because you knew how fast she could fall asleep again. ‘’Can we switch for today, bebita (baby)?’’ Alexia began. ‘’I get to sleep in, and you can wear my jersey. You know how much I love it when you do.’’ The distance between you got smaller, non-existent, as she rested her head on your chest and listened to the sound of your heartbeat. You played with her hair and stayed silent, thinking of some encouraging words.

‘’You’re Alexia Putellas.’’ Was the first thing that left your mouth. You heard a small laugh, feeling Alexia’s grip on you loosening a bit as she rested her chin on your chest. Her hazel eyes staring into your serious ones, not completely understanding the context behind the words you just spit out. ‘’That’s me.’’ She nodded. ‘’And?’’ Was the next thing she asked, trying to hide her smile. She got curious, the stern expression on your face not giving away a hint of what you were thinking of.

You shifted your hands from her shoulders to her cheeks and held them firmly while leaving patterns with your thumbs. ‘’That’s it. That’s literally it.’’ You whispered, but suddenly heard a loud laugh leaving the blonde’s mouth. ‘’Wait, this is your poor attempt to motivate me?’’ Alexia couldn’t help but be amused by your words, she knew you were being serious by the look of your face. You nodded and stared lovingly at her, happy you got to see her smile this morning. ‘’You have nothing to worry about.’’ You replied, placing a tender kiss on her lips, hoping to emphasize the message you were trying to convey.

Alexia nodded and thanked you quietly, a small sigh escaping her mouth as she rolled out of bed. She pulled the covers over your form and made her way to the bathroom. ‘’You know, you can still wear my jersey.’’ She winked before completely disappearing from your view, pointing to the part of the closet that was dedicated to her jerseys. That’s what you were planning on doing, but leading the team? No, that was La Reina’s job.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso one shot #woso imagine #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics

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darlingmbappe · 1 year

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Family Man | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: Your husband is feeling a bit nervous about staying home alone with your daughter for the first time. When you ease his worries, he thanks you the best way he can, but then surprises you with a big request.

Warnings: SMUT! Oral (female receiving), romantic sex, breeding kink, Kylian being a simp kinda, cussing, not checked for spelling/grammar errors. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

“Charlotte is finally down.” Kylian sighed from the doorway of your bedroom, trudging over to his side of the bed.

You smiled up from your novel as you watched him crawl on top of the comforter, laying his head on your arm and cuddling at your side. “She’s a piece of work, that girl.” You chuckle.

Kylian breaks out a grin, thinking about his wonderful three year old baby girl. “Wonder who she got it from…”

“Ha!” You set your book down on your lap, tilting your head down to look at him. “You’re joking. Kylian, You’re the biggest piece of work there is.”

He chucked into your shoulder and flipped on his stomach to be face to face with you, heavy leg comfortably draped over your thigh. “But you love us both.”

“So much.” You leaned over and kiss him sweetly, setting aside the now bookmarked novel on your nightstand. “Don’t know how I put up with you, though.”

“Well, you’re gonna get a little break from us this week.” He spoke and glances over at your packed suitcase sitting by the door. You sensed the tinge of nervousness in his sentence and put a reassuring hand on the back of his head.

“I’ll only be gone a week, Ky.” You comfort, tracing the structure of his brow bones gently with your forefinger. He leans into your touch, humming softly before burying his head in your neck. Clearly somethings on his mind.

“I know. It’s just…” he turns, wrapping an insecure arm around your waist to hold you closer, “I’ve never been alone with her for that long. Not for a week straight.” You scratched his back softly, allowing him to melt into you more. “I mean, what if she gets bored and I run out of things to do? Or what if she doesn’t like the activities I have planned for us? What if she breaks a leg or something on my watch?”

“Baby…” you coo, grabbing his chin between your thumb and knuckle so he’s look up at you. His big brown eyes showed his apprehensiveness, almost begging for you not to leave in the morning. “You know you’re an amazing dad, right?” He nods sheepishly, but you understood where this insecurity came from.

When Charlotte was born, it was at the beginning of the season. He did his best to take as many days off as he could, wanting nothing more than to be with you and his newborn baby girl. Though his efforts were much appreciated, you were still left alone with her many times, sometimes for days on end. It’s was through no fault of his own and you knew that, always reassuring him that you understood his responsibilities as a major world renowned athlete. Of course you’d love for him to be there with both of you 24/7, but it’s not something you would ever hold against him.

He was deep in thought and you could practically hear him overthinking the next seven days, coming up with every worst-case-scenario possible. “I was nervous the first time I was alone with Char, too.” You said softly. “It’s scary, I get it. But, I know you two will have the best time. Whatever you have planned, she’ll love it because she’ll get to do it with you.”

His lips curled up, staring back in adoration. “You think?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Of course. She’s so excited to be with just you. When I told her, it actually kind of hurt how happy she was.”

This made Kylians whole face break out in a wrinkled smile. “Yeah?”

Of course he loved that, his competitive nature trumping his sense of humility. “Oh yeah.” You grin. “She’s dying for some alone time with daddy.”

“And you?”

You furrow your brows. “Me?”

“Mhm.” He shifts to hover over you lazily. “You need some alone time with daddy?” The smirk he gave you sent a rush through your body.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he puts his legs on either side of you, nudging your nose with his. God, this man just has a way about him. The way he looks at you consistently makes your stomach erupt in butterflies, even after all these years.

“Cheeky, cheeky boy.” You tusk, leaning up only slightly, teasing a kiss on his wanting lips. “What does daddy have to offer?”

“Whatever you want. I’m yours.” He touched his forehead to yours, you slowly lifted your chin to touch your lips to his.

Starting off gently, he breathed in deep through his nose, savoring this moment. Having a toddler, it’s hard to find time to be intimate when they’re always around. Always.

But, it kind of makes the sex way hotter… way more anticipated.

He pokes his tongue in and you opened up immediately, suddenly desperate for some action. He began moving his hips over the thick duvet you laid under, giving himself some relief, but you needed that layer gone. You began tugging at it desperately, Kylian got the hint. He sat up, tossing aside the blanket and stared down at your sleep attire, humming to himself and licking his lips.

“You’re so sexy.” He grumbled, now looking at you with nothing except love and lust. Your hardened nipples poked through your white scrunched up shirt, displaying your lower half for Kylians pleasure. The pink cotton panties you wore had a little rose engraved on the front, sending your husbands brain into a spiral as he started crawling down your body involuntarily. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He made it down to where you needed him, a gentle touch on you thighs opening your legs. You didn’t need much coercion from him, knowing the usual rhythm of this sort of thing. Being with him for so long meant you knew each other patterns and needs.

“I get a goodbye gift?” You teased once he situated himself between your legs, big hands moving your knees upward toward your chest.

Instead of responding, he placed a meaningful kiss to your covered core, looking up at you, wanting to watch every reaction he persuaded out of you. He stiffened his tongue, poking at your clit methodically before biting the fabric and clipping his thumbs underneath the seams. Slowly, he slid them over your legs, his eyes glued to how your pussy reveled himself to him, already glistening.

“I already told you, bébé. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He mumbled in a trance, only looking up when you whined at his lack of movement. “You gotta tell me, bébé. What do you want?”

“Don’t be a dick.” You poked with a pouty giggle, jutting your needy hips toward his mouth. He splayed his hands over your middle, holding you down. “Just eat me out, Mbappé.”

“Always so bossy.” He jeered, but lined his mouth up anyways, purposely blowing out a sigh on your pulsing core before flattening his tongue on you. Your eyes rolled back, keeping your moan quiet with a hard lips bite as he continued to work his muscle, lapping up and down, focusing on the bundle of nerves at the peak.

“Always taste so sweet, bébé.” He praised, dragging his fingers down your hips, feeling the goosebumps he’s creating on your soft familiar skin. The feeling of his lips moving against your cunt made you grip the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

You looked down at your husband between your legs, eyes closed, seemingly hypnotized and focused solely on pleasuring you.

Without warning, he poked his tongue in and out of your needy hole, making you gasp at the sensation. “Shit, oh god.” You gasp. A quick hand made it’s way behind his head, pressing him further into you. He stuck it in as far as it would go out of his mouth, circling and wiggling around, feeling your pulsating walls. He moved a hand from your hip and dragged his forefinger agonizingly slowly on your clit.

“Let me show you how much I’ll miss you.” He muffled, the vibration of his voice making you moan out.

“Please.” You begged, watching him with hooded eyes. His finger dipped lower and lower, tapping on your sensitive nub to make you jolt. It made him laugh, obsessed with the sight of you squirming under his touch.

He teased his middle finger in before inserting two inside of you. Kylian was always one for foreplay, eager to make it the best experience for the both of you. That’s so hot.

You were a moaning mess, hot and bothered as he curled his fingers up, his mouth attached to your pussy like a man starved. His eyes were now wide open and gazing up at you, your chest heaving, your back arching, your quiet moans singing in his ears like a melody. It was all too much for him as he began humping the bed in desperation. Getting to see what he can turn you into could have made him cum on the spot, but he wanted to cum inside of you. He needed to cum inside of you.

You whimpered when he detached his mouth, wiping his glistening face with the back of his hand. “You’re fucking amazing, mon amour. I love you so much.”

You’d gone off the pill years ago before you got pregnant with Charlotte and hadn’t gone back, relying on condoms and quick reflexes. You’d talked about having more kids in the future, but not recently enough to prepare you for what your husband said next.

“Let me put another baby in you.”

Your breathing was heavy, but it stopped for a moment out of shock. The look on his face was completely serious as he crawled up on top of you, lifting your shirt enough to reveal your boobs, tweaking your nipples between his fingers.

You swallowed the noises threatening to spill out of you throat, staring into the eyes of the man you’ve adored for so many years — the eyes that were practically heart shaped whenever he caught even a glance at you.

“Let me get you pregnant.” He repeated and dipped his head in your neck, trailing a soft path of kisses upward until he reached your mouth, lingering there a little longer. He leaned into your ear, giving it the gentlest bite before whispering. “Remember how I couldn’t keep my hands off of you?” His hands roamed down to your stomach, caressing it like he used to do. “You looked so fucking hot with my baby inside of you.”

You couldnt help but smile, feeling your heart beat faster for him. “What about the mood swings?” He kissed behind your ear.

“Don’t mind them.” He kissed your jaw.

“My feet swell pretty bad.”

He kissed your cheek. “I give great foot rubs.”

“Cravings?”

“I’ll get you anything you want.” He placed the last kiss on the corner of your mouth, pulling back to stare into your eyes, wiping away any stray hairs that fell onto your face.

You sighed up at him. “You think we’re ready?”

He finally landed his kiss on your lips, breathing you in like you were a drug. “I know I am. So, what do you say, bébé?”

Kylian was the worlds best dad and even had three Father’s Day mugs to prove it. He was attentive and loving and caring and wanted nothing but the absolute best for his family. For your family.

“Let’s make a baby.” As soon as those words left your lips he kissed you deeply. You both smiled into the kiss, attempting to pucker but failing, eventually just giggling into each other, hugging tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”He hummed, standing up and shedding his joggers and boxers, revealing the main attraction.

God, the way you salivated at the sight of him was almost embarrassing. You’d worried about what marriage would do to your sex life, especially after having a baby, but Kylian always made you feel so sexy. He flirted with you constantly, found every possible way to make you squirm. You found that the longer your with him, the more things you discover about him that make you adore him more. Want him more.

You adjusted yourself as he slotted above you, your legs wrapped around his middle as you traced his collarbone. The shift from how the night started to now made your head spin. You couldn’t believe that you’d decided to start trying again out of the blue like this, but knew in your heart that you wanted this too.

He lined himself up, prodding you open slowly to let you adjust to his massive size.

“Oh, fuck Kylian.” You breathe, grabbing his face sweetly as your eyebrows knit together. He loved the faces you made when he was inside you — missionary being his favorite position.

He moved his hips until he was all the way in, waiting for your cue for him to continue. It didn’t take long, it never did. When you nodded at him, he began thrusting, his pace slow as if every movement was personal and meaningful. You loved the stretch he gave you, feeling every ridge, every curve.

This type of sex is Kylians favorite. Sure, he’ll take you roughly, spank you until he can see a mark. He loved the feeling of having his hand wrapped around your throat, or thrusting into you with such speed and force that it makes your legs wobble the next day. But something about the steady pace, the perfect rhythm, the eye contact, holding your hand, getting to kiss you like it would transfer the love he kept in his heart to yours... getting to take you in piece by piece was the most thrilling thing he’s found in his lifetime. Having the pleasure of holding your hand, listening to your whimpers and quiet “ah, ah”s was like a drug. He was undeniably addicted to you. Obsessed with every inch of your being. He couldn’t think of a more personal way to show the woman he loved how much he means to him. No amount of money could buy this type of intimacy.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, reaching down to intertwine your hands, in need of feeling more of you. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” Your heart was melting at his words, his dilated pupils absorbing every inch of your face. His rhythm was hypnotic. Your needs begged for him to go faster, harder, to take you roughly… but your heart outweighed those thoughts. Though slow, it was the most romantic sex you’ve had in a while. “Cant believe I got you. I can’t believe I get to love you forever.”

He spoke sweetly, his breath fanning your face with his words and pants. The knot in your stomach tightened, making you squeeze your legs around his middle. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” You whimpered, somehow forming coherent sentences through the intense pleasure. “I love you, Kylian.”

He slotted his face in your neck, breathing heavier than before, hoping your skin would muffle the sinful moan that erupted from his mouth. His thrusts kept the same speed, but faltered slightly. “God, bébé. I’m gonna cum.”

You hugged him tightly against you. “Me too.” The feeling of his pelvic bone continuously rubbing against your clit and the slight tug and push of his member inside of you was consuming your every sense. “Fuck, Kylian.”

You dig your teeth into the skin of his shoulder or else you’d have screamed in pleasure, waking up the innocent little toddler just a few rooms down. The knot popped, making your toes curl, the bliss of it all creating spots in your vision. You came hard as Kylians thrusts continued at a slightly faster pace.

He kissed your cheek, seeking his own release — it didn’t take long to find it upon feeling your walls quivering around him. “Ah, dieu.” He moaned. “I’m cumming.” He panted, hissing and squeezing your hand as he looked into your hooded eyes. He bit his lip hard to keep quiet, breathing harshly through his flared nostrils.

He came down, his arms giving way as he laid on top of you to catch his breath. He hugged you so close, kissing your lips sweetly. He lifted himself to stop crushing you, matching your smile before he began to slowly thrust again.

“Shit, Ky!” You whisper yell, gasping at the overstimulation.

He hissed but continued his movements. “Gotta make sure it sticks, bébé.”

After three more thrusts, he stops and pulls out of you gently, laying his exhausted body next to you. He dipped his hand down and held yours, bringing it to his face to kiss it and kept it held at his lips. He looked at you as if you were a queen, a goddess.

“You think Char will be happy if we give her a baby brother or sister?” You wonder, laying on your back because you read that staying there for fifteen minutes after sex heightens your chances of getting pregnant.

“I don’t know… eventually. I think she loves being spoiled.” He grinned. It was true, Charlotte squealed every-time Kylian got home with something for her. Whether it was cupcake or a a tiny Tiffany necklace, she loved getting gifts.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Kylian made a guilty whatever face. His favorite thing in the world was getting to spoil his petite princesse.

Kylian places your hand on his chest, just above his heart. The stare he gave you was weakening, dibilitating, so full of raw emotion. You felt it thumping under your palm, knowing he meant that his heart was in your hands. You leaned over and snuggled into his side, kissing his cheek and keeping your hand on his heart. His heart rate picked up instantly, earning an earth shattering, lovey dovey grin from you.

Whatever the future holds, the family you’ve created with Kylian stands on strong pillars of love and loyalty. Having someone who you can trust blindly is the key to a life full of wonderful moments, and Kylian takes on that role with pride — absolutely devoted to creating the happiest life for his two princesses. You and Charlotte really are the luckiest girls alive… and with the possible addition of another family member, you might just get even luckier.

A/N: wrote this between classes today to give y’all a little something because my school is nearing midterms so I gotta crack down with studying. Thanks for reading! Also I didn’t spell check or grammar check this very thoroughly so I apologize for any mistakes <3

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bellewintersroe · 8 months

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Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 2 - here is the LINK to the first part! Leni has to act dumb to everything Max has told her when they’re in Monza where Kelly is. She witnesses a somewhat awkward interaction and Max gets suspicious when Leni is close with Carlos.

Warnings: mentions of arguments, probs some swearing, jealousy and impure thoughts. A little naughty thing happens between Leni and Max, but nothing major.

A couple days later we were all back together in Monza for the following Grand Prix. It was more than a success for Red Bull, with Checo taking second and Max taking yet another win. Red Bull now had 10 consecutive wins a row. It was party central around the grid, plus Sainz had bagged 3rd place which he truly deserved, he fought off the RB’s like a mad man for a good 15 laps. After his birthday yesterday, I congratulated him with a massive hug.

“You really deserved that, well done.” I hugged the Spanish man. I’d met Carlos years ago when he signed with Red Bull back in 2010.(I fancied him). Now he just felt like my older brother. Okay maybe that was a weird thing to say.

“Thank you, miss Leni. I missed you.” He gave me a tight squeeze back as I smiled adoringly towards Carlos. “I miss you Carlos, I hope Ferrari are treating you better than before the summer break.” I half joked.

“Yeah, me too.” His eyes widened. “Will you be out tonight?” Carlos then questioned. “Probably, I think we’ll be at the same place, -are you celebrating your birthday too?” “Of course.” He smirked. “I’ll come over and say hi. Get you a couple birthday shots!” I nodded as the older man laughed. “Drinking competition.”

“Are you trying to kill me? I’ll see you tonight, Carlos.” “Yes, let me know when you are in there. I think somebody wants to speak to you.” Carlos nodded behind me as my brows furrowed slightly as I spun around, hand sliding off Carlos’ arm. Max was lingering, a huge smile plastered across his face as he attempted to bite it back, nodding towards Carlos. My heart fluttered pathetically as I laughed out of pure ecstasy.

“Max!” The two of us embraced tightly as he lifted me up. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you.” I felt the breath of his laughter against my bare shoulder as he gently eased me back to the ground.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m so happy.” He modestly spoke, cheeks flustered from his excitement. The whole morning I had to act sheepishly around him and Kelly, purely because of what he told me when he was drunk. For a second of seeing him, I forgot what I felt awkward about. But when his hand lingered on my upper back, I felt the exact same itch of guilt that had pestered me all day.

“Good, you should be. You’ll be celebrating tonight, right?”

“Maybe, maybe.” He shrugged, hand slipping off as I crossed my hands over my chest. “Maybe? Max you’ve literally beaten a world record, you can’t not!” I nagged, pulling on his arm dramatically.

He smirked sheepishly, laughing to himself as we began walking back to the Red Bull garage. “Carlos is going out!” I spoke, as though that would sway him. “I’m sure Checo is too!” “Go party with Carlos.” Max shrugged nudging my arm. “Huh?” I asked loudly. “Huh?” He mimicked as I scoffed out a laugh. “I thought you… you know- I mean now you’re single-” “Ew, what’re you trying to say?”

“Yes, what are you trying to say, Max?” Another female voice interrupted and I tilted my head up, stomach sinking to see Kelly. “Hi Kelly!” I politely smiled. “Hey.” She smiled back. It was about as far as our friendship ever got, I always made an effort with her, but she was quiet in general, maybe the 13 year age difference between us was a bit too extreme. I was just being a hater.

“Well I thought now Leni is single she might have been… interested in Carlos.”

“Oh.” Kelly’s face relaxed as I felt my frown grow harder. “Carlos? He’s known me since I was like 9!” I grimaced towards Max, feeling Kelly staring right back to her boyfriend. Max shifted uncomfortably. I felt uncomfortable- god he needed to just tell the woman what he was feeling.

“Oops.” Max shrugged as we shared another laugh. Kelly on the other hand, didn’t seem amused. “No hug for me, Max?” She sassed as I felt my stomach churn in guilt. Max’s mouth opened to respond and I wanted to yell out, hug her you fool.

“I’m gonna go, see you both later.” I awkwardly excused myself, wanting to literally throw myself off a cliff. A shudder ran down my spine, cringing at the whole interaction. This whole crush on Max had to stop, how the hell could I limit interaction between us without it looking so obvious?

Limiting interaction is what I tried to do. I kept my distance from Max the whole evening, opting to chat with Checo rather than be around where he and Kelly bickered. It wasn’t anything new the arguments, my dad often said it was Max’s number 1 distraction. Knowing what I now knew, I agreed. I just had to keep my head down and act like whatever they were arguing about wasn’t loud enough that you could hear Kelly over the music.

Minutes later she stormed out, tipping a few drinks off the table in the process. Max groaned into his hands, luckily, Hannah, the strategist, reassured Max she was leaving anyway and she’d fix it. I kinda felt bad for him, he’d just won yet another world title and this had to happen tonight. He looked a little sad, the minute my heart churned I turned my attention elsewhere. I hated the way I wanted to go and speak to him, it wasn’t right. Max needed to end the torment Kelly was probably feeling and sort out their god damn mortgage issue.

Desperate to avoid any form of drama, I escaped to go spend some time with Carlos and the Ferrari team for a while. I looked like a little backstabber, playfully sticking my fingers up at people from RB. I’d fully danced my feet off, and I was exhausted from all the day drinking combined with the heat at Monza.

After saying bye to a bunch of people, I slipped outside, bagging a cigarette off somebody as I stumbled to an empty table, booking an Uber.

“12 minutes? Ugh.” I muttered to myself, quite literally desperate to throw myself in bed. My ankles were desperately hurting where I’d grown uneasy in my heels, and it was beginning to radiate up to my shins. I lit the cigarette and began puffing on the stick that I normally wouldn’t smoke sober.

“I didn’t know you smoke?” My heart skipped a beat as I dropped the freshly lit cigarette into a puddle next to the chair. “I don’t anymore.” I cleared my throat, glancing up to Max quickly. Where had he come from?

“Don’t tell Geri or my dad.” I commented as he let out a soft chuckle. “I won’t.”

“Thanks… what’re you doing out here?”

“Leaving.” He shrugged, sitting across from me. “Oh, me too. You can get in my Uber if you want.” I offered.

“Yeah please, I’ll pay. I gotta go and… find Kelly.” He awkwardly spoke as I glimpsed away at the mention of her name.

“No, you don’t have to pay.” I ignored the last part of his sentence, shaking my head firmly. “I do.” Max firmed. “I don’t mind Max, he’s 10 minutes away, anyway.” I looked back down to my phone as he nodded. “I’ll split share.” He offered, reaching over to tap my phone onto his contact to share the cost. “Okay.” I shyly spoke watching him slide my phone back to me.

“You ok?” He then questioned as I glimpsed back up. “Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, running his hand through his slightly messy hair. He had stubble growing in areas that made him look extra manly, and I had to pinch my bare thigh to focus on what he was saying.

“Not exactly the best night.” Max awkwardly chuckled as I began picking at the wood on the table, thinking carefully about my words for a good few seconds. “You should tell her, Max.” I boldly said. I felt him shift uncomfortably, when I looked up he was too staring at the table. I assumed he knew what I was talking about. “I know.” He chewed on the inside of his cheeks.

“I didn’t think you’d remember..” he then added on as I let out an awkward laugh. “I didn’t think you would. You’re rich enough, just pay off the mortgage and then that’s out of the way.” “I was talking to my accountant about it.” He rubbed his face. “That’s why she was upset.”

“Oh.” I commented, my eyes roaming around any part of the smoking area, as long as I didn’t make eye contact with him, it was fine.

“Yeah.” Awkward, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip, probably taking off half the lipgloss I’d just applied. “Awkward.” I blurted out, earning a laugh from Max as we caught each others eyes again.

“You don’t have a filter do you?” I felt my cheeks warm desperately as I tried not to smile. “I mean- just not after a few drinks.”

“It’s funny, Leni.” He giggled as I took a sharp breath, “it gets me in trouble sometimes.” I shrugged. We made small talk back and fourth for the next ten minutes before climbing in the Uber together, it was safe to say neither of us was as drunk as we were that night on the beach, we actually had some restraint about us.

“I forgot to take my brother to his tutor today!” I spoke up, turning to face him. Max’s head was rested back, lolling to look at me with a soft gaze.

“How? Why does he have a tutor on a Sunday?” He spluttered out a laugh.

“You tell me. My dad was speaking to me and I forgot to listen- took Monty up to the paddock, he knocked himself out on Gelato, the same way I did the free champagne, and I just… forgot.” “Oh, Leni.” Max laughed, reaching over to slightly touch my hand through his amusement. I spared a quick glance down to his hand, it was inching closer to my own, nudging against it with every bump of movement in the car.

“It was stupid.” I muttered on a sharp intake of breath. Max looked back to me, smiling, I shyly caught his eye, feeling his fingers graze over mine to hold onto my hand. He was smiling, glancing down to our hands and I couldn’t process the butterflies he gave me. The way my heart set off racing, how I felt like I couldn’t speak. What on earth was happening right now?

What followed was a terrible guilt. “Max.” I exhaled, softly parting out hands. I didn’t know what that was, or how it happened so quickly, of course it wasn’t a kiss, but the movement made me truly question if Max and I were actually just friends? Max straightened in his seat, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. I trapped both my hands between my knees. I didn’t quite know what to say, I glanced out of the window, pursing my lips slightly. “You need to tell her.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #Max Verstappen angst #f1 x reader

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mouschiwrites · 7 months

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Creepypasta/MH - Doing Halloween Stuff With Them :)

(Characters: Tim/Masky, Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Ticci Toby)

Tim/Masky

Hear me out... corn maze

I believe that Tim enjoys a good puzzle every now and again

He loves trying to figure things out (specifically when there's nothing at risk)

Getting to show off his navigational skills is also a major plus

He just likes to impress you, even if it comes off as annoying sometimes

"See? What'd I tell you? The exit's right there."

Though he does like the satisfaction of completing the maze, what he really treasures is that time you spend together figuring it out

Once you finally find the exit, you'll celebrate with hot cocoa :D

Eyeless Jack

This man LOVES carving pumpkins

He goes all out; definitely one of those people who makes the crazy intricate designs that look like they take hours

He'll love it if you help him!

If you have a steady hand, he'll let you do the details

If you don't, he'll task you with gutting the pumpkin/handing him tools

You guys collaborate on multiple pumpkins throughout the month, setting them in random locations for everyone to see

If there's a design you want to do, just show it to him, there's no question he'll be down

If it's too simplistic, he'll try to add more details

"Ooh, Jack, look at this one. Can we try to re-create it?"

"Of course! Though I do have some ideas on how it can be improved..."

Jeff the Killer

Another pumpkin carving enjoyer

But for a different reason... a very different reason

He loves the goriness of gutting the pumpkins

He couldn't care less about making actual designs, he just wants to get messy stabbing the pumpkin and gouging out its insides

That being said, he'll 100% gut your pumpkin if you ask him (he'll probably end up doing it even if you don't ask)

It's honestly a little disturbing watching him work

He just gets this look in his eye...

"You, uh... you doing okay there, Jeff?"

"Hm? Yup! Never better!! Say, can you grab the big knife from the kitchen for me?"

Nina the Killer

You best bet she's the costume queen

Spends the whole year planning matching horror-themed costumes

She'll settle for no less than creativity and perfection

High-quality props and articles only!! She'll even make them herself if she has to!

You can expect to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror while she does your makeup/adjusts your clothes

She's an SFX makeup legend, loves incorporating as much gore into your costume as possible

Don't ask why it's so realistic (it's not like she knows how the wound would look if it was real or anything)

"Wow, Nina... It's almost like I can feel it! It's so real!"

"No, no. If you were feeling it, you would be screaming pretty loud right now."

You can also expect to attend multiple parties where you show off your costumes

You guys dominate costume competitions

Jane the Killer

Horror movies!!

Specifically, making fun of them

You both pick apart the plot, the characters, the dialogue, the special effects, everything

No horror film is safe from your scrutiny

If you're the type to get scared during horror movies, her snide comments will help distract you

"Ooh, I can't look!"

"Oh, come on. Look—I bet they used corn syrup for that fake blood. It's way too thick."

When the movie ends, you're both feeling more amused than scared

She doesn't like to see horror films in theaters because she doesn't get to make commentary, plus she doesn't want to "waste" money on a "stupid tryhard-horror flick"

She'd much rather dig up some old indie DVD/VCR and have a home movie night with you

Ticci Toby

Halloween sweets are his bread and butter

Candy apples, fun-sized candy bars, candy corn, pumpkin bread...

He would perish if you made anything homemade for him

Spends the whole month gorging on sweets almost as fast as he can get his hands on them

He will not share with anyone but you

And even you only get a small portion of his goodies

Robs at least one child on Halloween night, mostly for the candy but also because he likes scaring little kids

"Where did you get all that candy?"

"Got it from a little birdy. By that I mean a kid in Falcon cosplay."

"Toby! ... save me the (favorite candy)."

Thank you for reading! Have a good day/night my spooky pookies <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #nina the killer x reader #jane the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #masky #tim wright #jeff the killer #nina the killer #jane the killer #ticci toby #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader

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sabertoothwalrus · 4 months

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Hi!! I hope it's okay to ask, which university are you/were you attending? I want to study animation in university but i have no idea which one to choose, so can you please tell me about yours?👉👈

I go to CSUF! It’s definitely one of the cheapest places to get a degree in animation in California, if not the US.

Only a handful of the California State schools offer animation, and most of the ones that do are 3D only, and I wanted to learn 2D.

SJSU has a good 2D anim program, and they’re the only state school in the bay area that does, BUT last I checked you need something like a 3.9 GPA to get in?????? like HELLO these are animation students. who are you fooling

the other schools I considered were CSULB and CSUN.

CSULB has a strong animation program! They have the guy that literally created the worldwide 24 Hour Animation Challenge. However, they required ONE extra art history class that none of the other CSUs needed, and I didn’t have it, and I wasn’t about to prolong transferring a whole other semester just to take it. (It was prehistoric art history, I think, which I admit sounds cool as fuck)

The reason I chose CSUF, beyond liking their curriculum better than CSUN, was because I heard about the Pencil Mileage Club. It’s the largest student-run animation club in Southern California. I’d argue that networking is almost more important than your actual skill. I’ll admit, the faculty is probably not doing as much for the students as other schools, but PMC more than makes up for it. I’ve made all my friends (and girlfriend teehee) through this club. I was president of my Art Club at my community college, so it was important to me to be part of PMC’s council. I’m now an event coordinator and so I help organize and run events and studio tours and guest speakers! :)) Clubs and extracurriculars look fantastic on resumes, so wherever you go, look into what’s available.

Things I should note: when you start at CSUF, whether as a freshman or through transferring, you will not be an animation major yet. You have to do the portfolio review first, and you can’t have any of the prerequisite classes in-progress when you apply. The portfolio requirement is only a few years old, too, and therefore it’s not nearly as competitive as, say… calarts or sheridan. I often say, students make the program better, not the other way around. the higher the level of students that apply, the higher the overall education quality will need to be to match that. Though this does mean that the higher quality a program is, the more people will be excluded, unfortunately.

CSUF’s aniamtion program itself is…. a little silly. You take storyboarding and character design after doing your short film ? for some reason? The new department head started at the school the same semester I did, and she’s definitely trying to make it better. She held a screening of the production classes’ finished films, and she told me she plans to have the curriculum restructured by 2025 (after I graduate, lol).

I’ll also mention that the art buildings are in the process of getting demolished and rebuilt. The first wave of new buildings won’t be done until the end of this year, and once that’s finished, they’ll tear down the remaining two buildings and start remodeling those. For now, we do a lot of our classes in the modular buildings jdhshfjs 🫡

We also have a mated pair of gay ducks that come every spring. Their names are Pebble and Rock. They are beloved by the art students.

And really, you don’t NEED a degree in animation to get into the industry. There are SO many online resources out there, a lot that are free, that can give you just as good of an education (in fact, several of my professors’ lectures have just been playing youtube videos and pulling up articles). BUT your classmates WILL be your future coworkers. If you’re not establishing relationships with people in some way on your own, you definitely need to make that bigger priority. After all, you won’t be working by yourself when you’re in the industry.

edit: oh I forgot to say that all the california state schools are striking the first week of the semester. so uh. there’s that

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znitsamluv · 1 year

Text

𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 !

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 . Pt.1

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐳 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 <3

Warnings : some swearing ig ?

•Mikey

° Mikey is usually busy with his business with Bonten and is hardly home but when he is there he makes sure he is giving his full attention to his family especially your son .

• It was dinner time and Mikey noticed you and s/n exchanging looks before you started talking.

° " s/n wanted to ask you something since last week but you were busy " the look you were giving Mikey made him immediately know that if he refused what was going to be said he will be in deep shit .

° " I have a big game tomorrow and I wanted you to be there to watch... But if you are busy I understand" Mikey's heart sank the moment he saw s/n eyes look slightly sad as if he was expecting a rejection, Mikey had an important meeting with Bonten tomorrow but he won't risk losing any more time away from his family.

° that's how Bonten ended having the meeting in the Stadium of the match 💀 They all wore normal clothes and caps but that didn't cover for the fact that they were literally talking about criminal business beside normal citizens .

° whenever s/n score Mikey would smile warmly and clap elegantly and then side eye his colleagues to see if they were cheering along with him .

° the proudest father ever .

° better believe s/n is getting hella presents the second the match is finished.

• Sanzu

° loud af in the competition hall .

° might even bring a banner with your daughter's name to show his support while your daughter is melting from embarrassment 😭

° would get hella side eyes from families beside him from his funky hair color and obnoxious behavior but they all don't have the guts to say anything.

° a mother complained about his inappropriate language and ' abuse of swear words in front of innocent souls ' so Sanzu had to be held back by you and was petty af that he started swearing louder 😭

° He heard a mother call your daughter a crazy bitch after your daughter rocked her son's shit in the taekwondo match, he excused himself to the bathroom and spotted them and immediately held his gun to them .

° " call my daughter a crazy bitch again and I will show you who she got her craziness from , if I saw you again better believe you will be six feet underground, .... Consider this a promise "

° once the competition ended he was the first to run to her and pick her up to spin her around while telling her how amazing she did .

° would rub it in Ran and Rindou faces the day after in the office telling them how badass his daughter is and brag about her for the rest of the day.

• Kakucho

° Kakucho has all of your son's timetable in his office so he doesn't miss any moment even if he was busy he will squeeze a 20 minute between the work to at least drop your son off to his training.

° He loves asking his son how training went everyday and even though Kakucho is tired and his eyes are red from overworking and lack of sleep he still sit and listen to s/n rambles about how tiring the training was and how a teammate of his was rude .

° he asks Mikey for a free day before your son's important match everytime and he is always the first one to arrive at the match hall .

° the other families really like you and your husband and how you both raised your son so expect lots of greetings when you both arrive .

° before the match starts Kakucho excuses himself and goes to your son to give him some encouraging words .

° " Hey buddy , no matter the result me and your mother are very proud of you, you trained hard and I believe you will do amazing, as long as you play fairly I know you will win . Now go and show everyone who is s/n Hitto "

° Kakucho usually stands in a corner the majority of the match where he has a better vision of the match going on , he is always on the run if s/n falls or get hurt .

° Once your son scored the final goal that sealed the match he claps and proudly says with his whole heart for everyone to hear " That's my son!"

• Koko

° Koko is usually busy so he tries to at least be included in any way so he buys your daughter any training clothes she likes or equipment that will help her better , no matter the price he is going to pay .

° since your daughter plays tennis she has a bad habit of breaking her racquet after losing so Koko has a whole room full of expensive racquets so she can replace the one she broke .

° " The moment you see the one you are playing against is crying from losing make sure to take a pic for me "

° Koko has a whole album on his phone of your daughter posing while her rivals are crying in the background.

° He once had to take the rest of Bonten with him because he couldn't miss your daughter's important competition but he also couldn't dump his work .

° Better believe the whole place was filled with cheers and screams of encouraging words just for your d/n ( Koko told them whoever cheers the loudest will get a money raise ) .

° D/n was going to play against a boy so as an elegant girl she is she wanted a handshake for good vibes yk before the match.

° but the boy gave her a smirk and looked her up and down before laughing.

° Koko was boiling with anger but remained calm and crossed his legs watching his prideful daughter do what he told her " don't leave him till his is crying"

° D/n didn't have mercy she literally dominated the whole match not even letting them score a single ball , to the point he started crying and begging for an early end of the match.

° taking out her phone she snapped a photo before sending it to Koko who was in the crowd clapping proudly.

° Let's just say D/n was the main talk in the building of Bonten and in meetings for the next few weeks .

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alexfromjersey · 8 months

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𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼 & 𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: it's jenna's last day in new york. jah contemplates a career move

warnings: mature language, a male

a/n: imma be honest with y’all….I lost all the creativity for this book. I was struggling to find a path for it but I found one and I hope you guys enjoy it. (Vc: sensei.klx on TikTok)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

THE NEXT DAY

"Our baby is big as a lemon right now. At this stage, our baby's intestines and vocal cords are developing. Tiny bones are also beginning to form in the arms and legs. This is so fascinating" Jenna gushed as she leaned more into your side.

You were currently focused on the intense game of baseball as your feet were propped on your coffee table. The two of you were enjoying each other's company until Jenna had to leave for London to film Beetlejuice 2 later tonight.

"Are we going to have a baby shower?" You asked.

"Yeah just a small one though and a little more into my pregnancy, maybe when I'm around 30 weeks" Jenna answered.

You nodded at your girlfriend. Your attention is then stolen by the Yankees vs. Padres baseball game on the TV. Jenna continued looking at the information the pregnancy app provided on her phone. Suddenly, the buzzer to your apartment goes off. You go to the buzzer, "Who is it?"

"Yuh Mada" Delyse responded. You buzz your mother in and unlock the door so she can come in. You then sat back down next to Jenna. A few minutes later, Del burst into the apartment with multiple bags in her hands.

You sighed, "Ma what is all that?"

"Nothing for you, some of this is for Jenna and...maybe the baby. Anyway, Jenna since you are leaving tonight I packed you a little pregnancy kit. I got you some prenatal vitamins, ginger & peppermint for any nausea you may get, and raspberry leaves for your iron and it can increase milk production if you decide to breastfeed" Del listed off.

Jenna's heart swelled at your mother's thoughtfulness, "Thank you so much Ms. Delyse. I appreciate this."

"Oh sweetie, us mothers have to stick together and watch over one another" Del smiled at the young woman.

"Do I get anything?" You ask.

"You get a non-cranky baby mother" Del replied to you.

You playfully glare at your mother. Del handed Jenna the bag of her stuff and sat opposite the couple. The buzzer to your apartment goes off again. You groan in frustration and confusion about who it could be.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"Davis" Davis answered. You buzzed him in and sat in your spot again. Soon after, Davis walks in with a flyer in his hand.

"Hey, Ms. Del I haven't seen you in a minute. How was Jamaica?" Davis asked.

"Wonderful. I needed that vacation" Del answered.

"I feel that. I need a vacation too. I haven't been on one in months" Davis said and sat in the empty spot next to you and Jenna.

"We should plan to go to the Bahamas" You suggest.

"Oh let's do it I've always wanted to go to the Bahamas," Davis said.

You then notice the flyer in his hand, "What's that?"

"Oh, that's why I came over here. This is a music competition, winner gets a five million dollar record deal with Passion Records. I saw that Twitter video of you singing, you should sign up" Davis proposed.

"Nah I'm good" You declined.

Davis looked at you in shock, "What? Why not?"

"I don't wanna be under another label. I've done it before and it went sideways. I don't want people telling me what music to make or getting the majority of the money I worked hard for" You explained and shrugged your shoulders.

"But it can expose you to different opportunities so you can propel yourself properly in the industry. You don't have to stay under a label forever" Davis said.

You sighed, "I don't know I'll think about it."

"Well, you better think about it sooner than later. The deadline to submit your demo is in two weeks" Davis informed you and handed you the flyer.

You read over it and the information on the paper. Submission deadline ends on June 15th at 11:59 pm. Any type of music is accepted but it has to be under three minutes. Five million dollar record label with Passion Records. You heard about the label, but before signing with the local one, you tried numerous times to get a rep. to listen to your music. You never got a response from them. But now you have a chance to finally pursue your dream of being a global sensation in music. A dream you've had since you were 8 and went to your first concert.

Maybe it would be a great opportunity.

"We still going to the courts around 1?" Davis asked.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that. Sisqo owes me my $50 from the last game" You said.

"What's the courts?" Jenna questioned.

"Basketball courts around the corner from her. Me and Davis always play a pickup game with some friends from the block every Friday" You answered.

"Oh, can I come?" Jenna asked.

"Of course. You can see me whoop some ass in basketball" You smirked.

🤰🏻🩵

"Jah!" You heard Davis yell from your right. Your eyes glance at Davis who was getting pressed by his defender. You knew if you passed it to him, he was either going to lose the ball or shoot and miss. You were down by 2 and if the other team scored it was game over. You had to play smart.

You pass it to Davis but you sprinted behind him to shake your defender. You were successful and got to the corner where Davis passed it to you. You caught it and immediately shot a three. You watched as it swished in the net, winning you the game.

"Yeah, buddy!" You exclaimed excitedly.

Jenna clapped and cheered on the sidelines while you and Davis dapped each other up. She sat back down in her seat while you started talking to the other team. She was surprised she even sat through the whole basketball game. She was more into soccer than any other sport but pick-up basketball was entertaining.

"Mind if I sit here?" A soft voice brought Jenna out of her thoughts. She looked to her right and saw an angelic woman. She looked like a Disney princess.

"No, no go for it" Jenna smiled. She grabbed her book from beside her but she felt eyes burning into the side of her head. She looked and saw the woman staring at her with recognition in her eyes.

"My apologies for staring at you but I love your work. Wednesday is currently my favorite series right now. You also did your thing in the Scream movies" The woman complimented.

"Thank you so much" Jenna gave the woman another smile.

"You know I never expected to run into you in the Bronx. This is the last place I ever thought" The woman chuckled.

Jenna nervously chuckled, "Yeah...just hanging and watching some basketball."

She didn't want to deal with a fan's pressing questions. She knew she should've put her disguise on. But luckily, Jenna relaxed a little when she saw you look at the woman with recognition in her eyes. Jenna watched as you tapped Davis rapidly on his arm and pointed toward the bleachers.

"Yo Diana, I ain't know you were gon' be here" You smiled and gave her a side hug.

Davis, on the other hand, was staring at her like a lovesick puppy.

"Yeah I was just walking by and I saw the two of you. Thought I'd stop and say hello...hey Davis" Diana smiled at Davis.

"H-Hey Diana" Davis nervously waved back.

You and Jenna smirked at each other while watching. Davis is a nervous mess in front of Diana.

"Oh Jenna, this is Diana, Diana this is Jenna. The three of us went to school together along with her twin sister Stacey" You said.

At the mention of the name Stacey, jealousy flushed through her as she remembered the night of the Met Gala. The beautiful girl that was attached to your hip like glue all night, posting you any chance she got.

"How is Stacey?" You asked.

"Good. She went back to Spelman last week but she'll be back for summer break" Diana told you. You nodded, took a sip of your water, and sat in front of Jenna.

"Word? I ain't know she got into Spelman. What is she going for?" You asked.

"Major in Music and minor in Theatre & Performance. Same as me just at a different school" Diana answered.

Unconsciously, you leaned back in between Jenna's legs. She placed her head on top of yours and her arms on your shoulders.

Diana smirked, "Y'all are cute together."

"I'm cute all the time" You playfully said.

"Mhmm I don't know about that. You have your moments" Jenna commented.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa you gon' do me like that babe. That's wild" You exclaimed.

"All I said was you have your moments. We got our moments too" Jenna defended playfully. Diana let out a giggle at the two of you.

"Speaking of cute, you should holla at Davis. Don't think I don't see the way you keep glancing over at him" You smirk.

"Uh...I don't know. I just got out of a relationship, a bad one at that. I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet" Diana vacillated.

"You don't have to jump into another relationship. I'm just saying to you know talk to him and become friends. But if you don't wanna do it, that's fine I'm not gonna force you or anything" You said.

Diana glanced at Davis again who looked up this time from his bag and smiled at her. She looked down to hide the blush that appeared on her cheeks. She then went into her purse and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote her number and walked down the bleaches.

"I have to go but call me whenever you aren't busy" Diana smiled at him and placed the paper in his hands. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking off the court.

"I'm the best wingwoman ever aren't I" You smiled.

"Uh I've seen better" Jenna shrugged.

You suck your teeth as she laughed, "You a hater bruh."

🤰🏻🩵

"Tap, tap, and then we lock our middle fingers. End it off with a fist bump and touch thumbs" You explain to Jenna and demonstrate the handshake you guys just came up with. The two of you came back from the basketball courts and went back to Jenna's hotel room so the actress could finish packing.

"I don't want to leave" Jenna pouted as the both of you sat on the floor against her bed. It was getting closer to the time for Jenna to leave for the airport and she was having a hard time. The both of you were really, you just kept to yourself.

"You could always call me you know. No matter the time, I'll always pick up for you" You said sincerely.

Truth be told, it was nice to finally have someone around. Someone new.

“You'll pick up at any time?" Jenna questioned amused.

"Yep. I'm an insomniac so 9 times out of ten I'll be up doing absolutely nothing productive" You chuckled.

Jenna giggled, "I'm going hold you to that."

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence looking out at the sun setting sky. Neither of you uttered a word but your eyes slowly drifted to the woman next to you. The orange color bounced off her skin beautifully, making her freckles pop even more than before. You've seen your fair share of beautiful women but nothing compared to her.

"Take a picture it'll last longer" Jenna spoke softly.

You pulled your phone and quickly captured a picture of the actress.

Jenna chuckled, "No way, you actually took a picture."

"You told me too. Now, I have an exclusive picture of Jenna Ortega. Should I sell it to these paparazzi weirdos?" You joked.

"Do it. I bet you'll make a fortune" Jenna replied.

Suddenly, a ding is heard from Jenna's phone. She grabbed it from the nightstand and sighed as she looked at the person who texted her.

Nancy The Manager: we're outside

Jenna pouted as she read the message. She was hoping she got at least another hour with you but the universe didn't want to lift her spirits.

"They're here" Jenna grumbled.

You stood up from the floor and slipped on your slides. You grabbed her bags and Jenna got her airport outfit on. She checked to make sure she had everything before the two of you walked to the elevator.

After the elevator takes you to the hotel parking garage, you help place her bags in the trunk before you turn to her.

"I'm going to miss you" Jenna sniffled.

"Imma miss you too Hollywood" You pouted. The two of you hug each other tightly, not wanting to let go. But before she left, you bent down to be level with her small protruding stomach.

"Aight listen, it's just gon' be you and momma for a couple of months. You two take care of each other, if she is overworking herself, you better tell her to sit her ass down somewhere" You added, "Mama loves you and I'll be waiting here for the both of you to come back." You kiss her stomach and stand up.

"Why would you do that? Now I'm crying" Jenna cried and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes.

You chuckled, "I just to let it be known."

Jenna wiped the tears from her face and climbed into the SUV.

"Call or text whenever you land," You said.

"I will" Jenna reassured.

You then step back from the SUV. Big L climbs into the driver's side and after a moment pulls off. Jenna blew you a kiss which you caught and you waited until you couldn't see them anymore to walk to your car and eventually left the hotel.

The journey to the airport was a quiet one. Jenna was scrolling through her social media, which is rare for the girl. Music was blasting in her ears as she didn't want to engage with anyone, especially Hudson. She was still furious with the male after the stunt he pulled with her family. She didn't even spare him a glance as she got into the SUV, which stung him a little.

After almost an hour, Jenna finally arrived at Teterboro Airport. She was flying private this time and she didn't know why but she was secretly thankful that she didn't have to deal with the regular airport this time.

Everyone checked in and was walking to the private jet. It was small and nothing too extravagant which she liked. She just wanted to get from point A to point B safely.

The young actress was the first to step onto the plane but halted in her steps as she came face to face with someone she didn't want to see.

"Ah, nice to see you again Jenna. It's been a long time" Corneilo smiled at the girl.

Jenna looked behind her at Nancy and Hudson and saw the same shocked look on their faces.

"Please settle down and let's prepare for take-off," Neil said and pointed to the seat in front of him.

Jenna hesitated before slowly sitting in the seat in front of him, "You usually don't do in-person meetings."

"Yeah, but we have much to discuss. Things that couldn't be said over a video chat" Neil shrugged.

Nancy and Hudson hurriedly took a seat behind the two. Jenna was on edge, she was tense in her seat and she wanted nothing more than to be in your comfort again.

"Champagne?" Neil offered.

"No I'm good" Jenna declined.

The Cuban man nodded and down his glass of champagne before pouring himself another.

"What do we have to discuss?" Jenna asked impatiently.

Neil grinned, "I'm sure you know Jenna."

Jenna unconsciously hooked her arms around her stomach. She knew the man in front of her was unpredictable, she needed to be on guard the whole time.

"Do you remember why the court signed that paper Jenna?" Neil questioned.

"Because they wanted to keep the tradition going of a man ruling over a woman's life" Jenna retorted.

Neil let out a breathy laugh, "No...it's because you're reckless. That paper was designed to save you. Save you from the destructive road you were speeding down. The same road you found yourself back on."

Jenna didn't respond to him, just glared at him.

"20 years old and pregnant with a child by a talentless rat from the hood at the top of her career. Do you know how that makes me look? That I can't keep my clients in check because they do whatever they want to" Neil hissed.

"I care less about how it makes you look" Jenna snapped at the older man.

This makes Neil snap, at the speed of lighting he reaches over the table and grabs Jenna by her throat. Jenna tried to pull his hand away from her but was unsuccessful.

"You seem to forget who's in charge here. I'm the one in charge. I have the final say in what you can and cannot do, and who you can and cannot be with. I own you, Jenna. So when I tell you to jump, you ask how high. No sassy comeback, no attitude. Nothing." Neil snarled.

“Let her go Neil” Hudson glared at the older boy.

Neil’s eyes then snapped to Hudson. He let go of Jenna who was breathing heavily with tears running down her face. The older male then made his way to Hudson. He stopped just a breath away from him.

“Little Hudson Maverick, rich daddy’s boy that doesn’t know when to mind his business. A flaw of his that’s going to get him into some trouble in the future. How is mommy doing by the way? She still seeing that private exercise trainer on Thursdays and Saturdays during your father’s meetings?” Neil taunted the boy.

Nancy stood up from her seat, “That’s enough Corneilo.”

Neil then turned to look at the woman with a smirk on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but an alarm goes off on his watch.

“Hmph, dodge a bullet there Nancy” Neil commented. He smoothed out his suit and looked at them with a smile, "Enjoy the flight." He then left the private jet.

Once he left, Nancy slid next to Jenna. The young actress then gripped her shirt as she sobbed into her side.

a/n: y’all going to hate me…and possibly not hate me a little bit after 🙂

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu @zaclewiss @yescruzzzzzzz @silentfor @gemz5 @alwaysdangerouschild @onceblinkarmyandmore @melonfruit442 @zataracloud @nepobaby08 @jennasslut @rimaybank @jaewu @j3nc0re

#jenna ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega x reader #nycxhollywood #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x oc #Spotify

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