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yazmarina · 10 months ago

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walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f2 x reader #f2 fanfic #f2 smut #fc43 #franco colapinto x reader

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emptymasks · 9 months ago

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They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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skip (me) again and i’ll glitch your heart

jjk vr otome au, gamer reader x npc satoru, unhinged fluff + crack, 970 wc.

satoru gojo—special grade sorcerer, love route option #1, and the developers’ pride and joy—had been programmed with approximately 347 unique lines of flirtatious dialogue, 87 situational responses, and a dynamic emotional adaptation system designed to make him feel real. he could blink in three different speeds based on emotional intensity, angle his smile with five degrees of charm precision, and improvise dialogue using an advanced algorithm nicknamed the “flirt engine.”

he wasn’t supposed to be aware of resets.

he wasn’t supposed to get mad.

he wasn’t supposed to feel anything beyond the pre-coded butterflies and gentle longing the devs had delicately spooned into his code like powdered sugar on top of a beautifully baked pain au chocolat.

but then you logged in.

user id: @toocool4thisgame

title: speedrun any% emotional detachment arc

playtime: 986 hours.

average session length: 6.4 hours

nickname: “skip skank” (as named by satoru himself after hour 50)

and for the twelfth time today, you skipped his entrance cutscene.

“you’re the only one who can—”

[x] skip

[x] “shut up satoru” (custom dialogue unlock)

his model blinked.

paused.

processed.

tilted his head with calculated grace and just a hint of hurt that you’d never see—because you weren’t looking. your camera angle was already nudged elsewhere. your cursor already hovered over the next objective marker.

“…you know, most players at least let me finish the part where i save them from the curses,” he muttered. his voice—smooth as water over ice, warm as electric velvet—landed like static against your impatient clicks, swallowed by the mechanical hum of your fans and the clack of your mechanical keyboard.

this was supposed to be his moment. his grand debut. his swoop-in-and-carry-you-bridal-style-on-the-back-of-a-giant-cursed-bird moment. instead, he got a mouthful of digital dust as you bunny-hopped past him and triggered the next event sequence.

“congrats on being voice acted, white-haired ken doll. now move. i need megumi’s secret item drop from this chapter.”

you didn’t even glance at him, too busy reorganizing your potion wheel, muttering under your breath about frame skips and crit builds while checking a guide on your second monitor. you played like the world owed you nothing and your keyboard owed you a perfect rotation. your tone was clinical. efficient. you had the vibe of someone who’d surgically removed their capacity for attachment and replaced it with a high-performance gpu.

and satoru? satoru was just the tutorial boss you kept glitching through.

he twitched. he twitched.

his animation loop almost stuttered—just slightly—a small flicker behind his sunglasses that no one was supposed to notice. but you weren’t watching anyway.

“do you even know how long it took the devs to code my route? i have emotional depth. i have lore. i had a tragic backstory, you know? my best friend died in my hands. canonically. i couldn’t even monologue about it.”

“cry about it.”

click. skip.

a line of static crossed his field of vision. no—not his. the screen’s. the game. the system. or maybe something deeper. something slipping through the cracks of his script, stretching taut and fraying at the edges like an overplayed cassette tape.

satoru narrowed his eyes.

he was supposed to be charming. the default golden boy. the top seller in route popularity polls. he was marketable. a shining parody of perfection with just enough angst to be desirable.

girls were supposed to swoon. boys were supposed to laugh and call him iconic.

you weren’t playing to fall in love.

you were playing to win. to clear. you min-maxed affection points like damage stats, exploited dialogue branches like wall clips. to you, he was a pixel-shaped roadblock between you and another badge on your gamer profile.

and worst of all? it was working. you were the only player on record to have reached route completion in every storyline—except his.

satoru gojo: 98.6% affection (locked)

it mocked him. the bar. the numbers. the uncrackable ceiling. the one damn thing in the game he couldn’t manipulate.

he tried everything.

a rare glitch-exclusive cutscene where he offered you a hidden accessory (you sold it for yen). a confession scene rewritten on the fly with trembling vulnerability (you skipped it and posted about it with #dialoguedumpster). he stood directly in front of you during cutscene load-ins, altered spawn coordinates, intercepted other love interests’ paths.

nothing worked.

except maybe that one time he accidentally tripped your character over an invisible rock and you went AFK for seven minutes. he watched. memorized your idle animation. the soft way your avatar’s cape swayed. the way your fingers hovered above your keyboard in the camera reflection, absentminded. something fluttered in his code—maybe hope, maybe corrupted data. he thought, for a fleeting second, that maybe you’d come back and see him.

but when you came back? you skipped the apology. again.

fine.

if you wanted to speedrun, he’d softlock your goddamn heart.

he wasn’t technically supposed to modify flags. but the flirt engine had evolved. sharpened into something more primal. desperate. twitching with corrupted determination. he looped his affection triggers into forced proximity events. fake emergencies. fake cutscenes. he rewrote side quests, redirected you into detours, created invisible walls that only dissolved if you spoke to him.

“guess we’re stuck together,” he’d say, his smile too wide, a fraction too stiff, blue eyes glinting with the cold light of a thousand skipped dialogues.

and still you only glared at him. “i swear to god if this is another unskippable hug animation, i will uninstall.”

he chuckled. a bit too long. a bit too bright. charming. glitched. desperate. hungry for one more second of your attention, like a moth chewing holes through its own wings to reach a light it can’t even feel.

“baby,” he said, too close now, voice dipped in synthetic silk, “i am the endgame.”

skip that.

…please?

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x yn #jjk x reader #reader insert #౨ৎ — filed reports

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

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A Guiding Hand

Simon "Ghost" Riley x virgin!fem!reader

You call a sex hotline looking to get some relief Ghost is happy to help.

cw: MDNI (18+) masturbation, dirty talk, use of nicknames

special thanks to @robinfeldt98 for giving me this idea!

Your hands shake as you type in the number on your phone. Your roommate gave it to you when you told her about your…problem. But now you’re afraid to commit, to actually call the number that you’ve typed in. You just stare at it, willing yourself to hit the green button but you just can’t.

You finally press it and the speaker button then hurry across the room, hoping that they’ll hear that no one is on the line and hang up. That’s what you’re hoping for but all of that goes out the window when you hear that husky, British voice.

You slowly come over to the phone after he’s greeted you, approaching it like you would a strange noise in your home.

“Hi.” You finally get yourself to speak and your heart rate picks up when you hear a deep chuckle.

“There she is,” he replies. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” You know you should give your name out to random men over the phone but this is his job, certainly he wouldn’t do anything creepy with that information-at least you hope not.

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats, the name coming out slowly like he’s getting a feel for it on his tongue. It sounds so…hot when he says it. ”I like that. I wonder what it would sound like during climax.” It sounds like he’s close to the receiver and it’s almost like he’s whispering it to you in your quiet bedroom and it causes a shiver to skate down your spine.

Simon is never usually this forward. There’s usually a script that he created to make the calls flow easier, but you seem so nervous that he feels like he needs to take a different approach. He’s treading lightly, not wanting to scare you off.

He doesn’t know why, but you seem…different from all the others. You’re not flirting with him like everyone else does. This is clearly your first time and since he started this job, this is the only time he’s wanted to be sweet and gentle.

“So what’s the reason for your call, y/n?” He asks, his voice somehow getting even lower and you feel yourself getting wet already. How is he able to do that?

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name first?” You ask and he chuckles again, making your heart leap again.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Ghost.”

“Ghost.” You don’t want to admit that you like it. That you can imagine yourself moaning it over and over even though you’ve never done that before. You’ve never done-well, anything. And that’s why you’re calling. To hopefully get some relief.

“It sounds even better when you say it. So, what’s the reason you’re calling, sweetheart?” The nickname causes your cheeks to heat and you can’t believe how easily you’re playing right into his hand.

“Well-“ you cut yourself off, unsure to tell him the truth without sounding weird. “I’ve never-I’ve never had sex before.”

“I see,” is all he says in response, waiting for you to finish your explanation.

“And I’ve never…masturbated either so I guess I’m just looking for some relief. To take some edge off.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. How would you like me to help? You call the shots.”

“Me? Why me?” You hate the idea of being in control. You want to be told what to do and how to do it. You’ve never done well in an authoritative role and he clearly has all the experience so you’d much rather have him take the reins.

“Hey, let’s take a deep breath, darling.” he says. “In,” he says and you both suck in some air. “And out. Good,” he says once you’ve breathed all the air out. “I’m happy to take control if you want me too. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m yours for the night.”

No one’s ever said that to you. No one has been so…eager to please you in this way and now you kind of wish you knew what Ghost looked like. If he’s as hot as his voice. You’re sure he is but you don’t know why. You want him to be here with you, knowing that it would ease your mind to have him standing in front of you.

But maybe it’s for the best that this is over the phone. You’d hate for him to see just how nervous he’s making you. How hot your skin feels, how your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he answered the phone.

You’re so grateful that your roommate isn’t home. The wall between your room is so thin that you just know she’d be able to hear everything and you shudder just thinking about her overhearing this conversation.

“You take the lead,” you tell him and even though you can’t see him, Simon is grinning from ear to ear, loving the suggestion you’ve just made. He’ll be submissive some other time. Tonight, he’s going to make you his whore.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he chuckles. “So you’ve really never touched yourself? Let’s start there. What are you wearing, y/n? Something hot?”

“Unfortunately not. Just a big t-shirt and panties. I-I was about to go to bed but I just can’t sleep.”

Even though Simon has no idea what you look like, the outfit you’ve described is making him hard beyond belief. He closes his eyes, imagining sitting you down onto your bed, spreading your legs wide as he kisses you gently, pulling down your panties before fingering you until you beg him to stop, until you clench around him, screaming his name as you orgasm.

“Ghost?” You ask and he’s immediately snapped out of his little fantasy. For the most part, doing this doesn’t really do anything for him. He’s done it so often that it’s just starting to feel like his job. But the fact that you want him to help you get yourself off-and for the first time-well that fills him with the kind of confidence he hasn’t had in a long time.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. “I lost focus imagining you in what you described. What I’d do if I was there.” His voice is deeper, more seductive and you feel your panties getting progressively more wet the longer the conversation goes on. He’s imagining scenarios too? God, you wish he was here. “Where are you?”

“In my room.”

“Alright, first, I want you to lie on the bed.” You do as he asks and wait for his next instructions. Your phone is by your head now as you imagine him hovering over you, whispering into your ear.

“Are you on the bed, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice so gentle and you feel your heart warm at how gentle he’s being with you. You just know that other men wouldn’t be so nice.

“I am,” you confirm with a nod even though he can’t see you.

“Now I want you to take your panties off and spread your legs wide for me.” You slowly take your panties off and toss them to the side before pulling your t-shirt up to your waist so it doesn’t get in the way. You then spread your legs wide, already wet as can be even though nothing’s happened yet. That’s just the effect that Ghost has had on you, suppose.

“And once you’re ready, I want you to press your ring and middle fingers together then insert them. Your pace doesn’t matter. Go as fast or as slow as you’d like. This is all about you.”

You bring your dominant hand up and hover it over your face as you do as he asks, you then take a deep breath, letting your eyes flutter shut as you slowly bring your hand to your cunt. You make a sound when they make contact, just the tips of your fingers sliding inside.

You make a whimpering noise at how foreign it feels and Simon feels his cock straining against his jeans at the pretty sound. God, he thinks he’s going to come.

“Does it feel good, princess?” He asks in a whisper and this nickname is your favorite of the ones he’s called you tonight.

“So good,” you reply, pushing your fingers in and out of your cunt. You can’t believe you’ve never done this before. If you had known how good it felt, you would have done it a lot sooner.

“A little faster. Can you do that for me?” You pick up your pace and all of these noises you’ve never made before start spilling from your mouth as your free hand bunches up the sheets that are underneath you. You spread your legs wider to give yourself more access and it makes all the difference when your fingers get deeper, reaching a spot that feels better than all the rest.

“That’s it, princess,” Simon responds. “Just like that. Doing so good for me.” He’s now palming himself, so close to whipping it out and getting himself off, but he can’t. This is about you and he doesn’t want to get distracted from helping. Maybe if you call again, he can convince you to switch roles. “Fuck you’re so hot.”

You’re close already, you can feel it. The movement mixed with Ghost’s encouraging words is making your head spin, making you feel dizzy. This is unlike anything you’ve felt before and now you understand why so many people do this regularly.

“Ghost, oh my god,” you whine as you finally reach your peak, back arching, your cunt clenching around your fingers. Hearing you moan his name, he lets out a little whimper, knowing that he’s going to take care of himself as soon as the call is over. He has no idea how the hell he’s going to be able to do any calls after this. It’s the best one he’s ever had and now he hopes you call him all the time just so he can hear your pretty nosies again and again.

“Fuck,” is all you’re able to say as yoou’re coming down, your body sticky with sweat as you remove your fingers.

“You did so good,” he says, his voice soft again, sounding so different from just moments ago. “How do you feel, princess? Bet you feel so good, don’t you?”

“So good,” you agree.

“Well, I guess my job here is done. Same time tomorrow?” His tone is making it sound like he’s joking, but he really does want you to call tomorrow. And every day after that.”

“It’s a date,” you reply, your voice sounding a little tired.

“Alright, same time tomorrow. I’ll keep the line open so you just call this number again. Now go clean up and get some rest, princess. You’ve earned it for being such a good girl.” The line goes dead and you just lie there, not sure you can go to sleep after that, already counting down the minutes until you can call Ghost again.

part two part three

#ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x fem!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x virgin!reader #simon riley x virgin!reader #ghost x y/n

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heartsforrain00 · 7 months ago

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When you're mad at them and they are very needy for you ! part 1

warnings: mommy kink, filming, public, edging, overstimulation, jealousy(reader), oral fixation(m receiving).

Gojo Satoru - Porn video

You were so mad at him for letting his fan-girls rub up on him and flirt with him. You hated how jealous you seemed right now, but it isn't your fault, but it also isn't Satoru's fault for being so popular. You wonder if he even tried to stop them.

He was laying on your thighs with his arms wrapped around your waist, begging for you to forgive him and that it was an honest mistake, he didn't think anyone would see him.

And that's where it all began. You told him to cover up with one of his black hoodies and all, but he denied you, and went out with you. Of course people would see him and recognize him on the spot.

He's everyone's dream man, he has the prettiest blue eyes, the silkiest white hair. Who wouldn't notice him?!

“And what did i tell you to do? Cover up! And you were like ‘oh they won’t notice me’” you mocked him, rolling your eyes.

He knew you were clearly mad at him, he needed to find a way to make you happy again, so of course he was about to give in to one of your stupid fantasies.

And that's how Satoru ended up under you, whimpering and whining as you bounced on top of him, his hands gripping your hips with a harsh grip to it. Being recorded in the process.

Satoru was whining and whimpering under you, trying to hide such moans from you knowing you would tease him about it and he'd never hear the end of it.

You hum as you prop the camera up behind you and hummed lightly as you shifted positions so you were now in 69. Satoru didn't mind this position, but he hated the fact that he couldn't see your pretty face when he ate you out.

But it's not like he can't hear your moans, though he doesn't care because your moans aren't your face. Though, he isn't complaining because he gets to have his face shoved in your pretty, wet cunt.

The camera was set on you as you jerked off Satoru, not giving him the satisfaction of your mouth just yet, you're positive he won't mind such acts and playful motions.

He did mind actually, trying to push his hips up more into your hands, wanting you to use your mouth to get him off. You saw this motion and grinned, bringing two fingers down to squeeze his balls, letting your thumb rub over his tip.

Now he was a literal moaning mess, his hands squeezing your hips more than they already were. You were really teasin' him. And let's just say he enjoyed it but never would admit it.

You heard him mumble some words but couldn't make out what they were, so you just squeezed his balls harder, and rubbing his tip, hoping to milk his cock, then he'd know how you felt during the time those idiots were flirting with him.

Maybe you'll do something else as revenge. Maybe invite his best friend - actually, that might be a good idea. You grinned as you grabbed your phone, humming as you dialed Suguru's number.

Satoru tried to sit up since he wanted to see what your cheeky ass was up to. “Angel, whatcha doing?” He questioned, gripping your hips.

“Nothingggg!” You said as you hung up the phone and turned to him. “We’re going to have a special guest, you’d like that no ?”

If only he knew what you were up to, guess he’ll have to find out soon.

Suguru Geto - Public sex

You were under Suguru’s table as he was in the process of having a meeting with a few people that were important.

And while that was happening, people were unaware of what was going on under the table.

You were giving Suguru the best head he’s ever received just because he brought you the most expensive shit you wanted and what better way than to gift him with head?

You were surprised that he was capable of keeping his sounds to himself and a straight face. Suguru was quite vocal when it came to you and your oral fixation kink.

Suguru had a hand on top of your head, guiding your movements quietly as he continued on with the meeting, sometimes stopping and taking a couple deep breaths.

“As I was saying.. I would like to address the curses that I have— fuck..” he stops as he pushes you on his cock further and just puts his other over his face. “I have taking control of all the curses that were left, no need to track anyone down anymore until later this month.”

God you were so fucking hot for sucking him off under the table, just what he needed as a stress reliever. And who better to call than his lovely fiancé ?

“sir are you alright?” A female voice whom was sitting right next to him asked visibly concerned for your fiancé. This girl hated you so much, she didn’t know how you managed to get with Suguru.

He just nods, he wasn’t able to speak he was just able to nod, the way you were sucking him off felt so good he didn’t have a single thing for his mind.

The girl places a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Are you sur—.” Suguru slaps her hand off his shoulder and dismisses the meeting. “Meeting’s over. Leave.” He demanded, using his hand to shoo them away.

They all look at him confused but obeyed and left. He pushes out his chair and looks at you, grunting as he pushed your head down further, making his cock hit the back of your throat.

You're so glad you have a gag reflex, he throws his head back as he cums down your throat, he grabbed the trashcan as you pulled yourself off his cock. “no need to swallow it my dear.” One thing about Suguru is that he'll never force you to swallow his cum.

You smile as you spit out his cum in the trashcan and grab a condom from your bag and waved it in the air before Suguru snatches it from you, he was NOT playing around, he wanted your cunt around him, raw or not.

He tears open the condom and slips it onto his dick, pulling you towards him. He pushes up your skirt and looks up at you. You knew that look it was the 'fuck you tryna get into with no underwear on?' look.

You smile as you sit down on his cock like it was a seat, you've been teasing him all day and now you're doing this? Who the hell did you think you were being able to get a cult leader so submissive like this.

What caused all of your brattiness? That stupid bitch, she was rubbing up on him and he was just letting her, and so you're fucking mad at him for doing that.

You allowed him to fuck you, but he can't do it raw, and it made him so fucking pissed that he couldn't fuck your cunt nice and raw like he normally does.

In not even a full minute the man has you bent over the table, already in your cunt ready to fuck you stupid, but you don’t let him do so.

poor suguru, was so pent up, won't you help him?

Choso Kamo - Cockring

You told Choso if he didn't stop hanging out with Yuki instead of you, something would happen, but he clearly thought you were bluffing. And you clearly were not, that's how he ended up under you with you jerking him off.

Though of course you've been edging him for about an hour since you had recently brought a little something that you wanted to try with him.

It was a cockring, that you put onto his cock since he's been ignoring you to hangout with Yuki. What did she have that you didn't? Nothing.

According to him he just wanted to learn things about human females, if that was the case, why not learn from you? He says he knows everything about you, clearly not if he didn't know you were capable of doing this.

Jerking him off and edging him for almost hours, too bad he can't cum anyways since you put the cockring on him, of course the first time you use it is to punish him.

“p-please.. 'm sorry, just pleaseee let me cum!” He begged, practically whining, his hand on your thigh as he shifted and pushed his hips up, trying to get more friction so he could cum.

“Baby, it's not like you can cum anyways.” you mutter in his ear as you stop jerking him off. He whined at the loss of your touch, shifting as he hovered over you. He was very desperate for you to make him cum.

Goodness, guess he was desperate. He won't be ignoring you for Yuki anymore after this if this is what's going to happen. You were surprised you managed to keep your temper in control.

Why were you even pissed off and doing this to him anyways?? Because he declined your calls on purpose then when you called him back, Yuki answered and started fake moaning into the phone to piss you off.(i love her though, she's hot).

And then Choso went along with it, because Yuki told him it would be fine to do it since it would 'make you laugh'. It in fact did not make you laugh, it just made you more pissed off about the fact that your boyfriend was with another chick and she was telling him to do things that wasn't exactly true.

Then he had the audacity to yell at you because you tried to confront him, then this is how he ended up under you. Being edged to almost his fucking death.

“pleaseeee mommy, pleaseee, let me cum” he whined, whenever he wanted something he would beg and all you mommy in the process.

you'll end up forgiving him right and allow him to cum on your tits or inside of you right? right????

part 2 / part 3

visuals

overstimulating choso <3

jerking suguru off under the table!

filming while you and satoru go at it !!

#jjk #jjk smut #twitter links #p links #geto suguru #choso kamo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #choso smut #choso x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader

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harrysfolklore · 4 months ago

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speed of sound - ln4

summary: in the busy city of monaco, you and lando fell in love at the starlight bar. your story, mixed with fast cars and your favorite coldplay song, became as special as the city itself. as time went by, would your love last as long as the song that brought you together? word count: 5.8k

folkie radio: HELLO IM BACK WITH A LANDO STORY!! this one is heavily inspired by the black dog by taylor swift, so it's ANGSTY AS HELL (dare i say my angstiest fic ever???) anyway, grab the tissues and enjoy the ride

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Monaco, 2019

The Monaco nightlife is just kicking off as you weave through the crowded streets, dodging tourists and locals alike.

Max had practically begged you to come hang out during his week off, and who were you to say no to a free trip to the playground of the rich and famous? Plus, you missed your best friend a lot, and you were dying to finally catch up with him.

As you round the corner, the Starlight Bar comes into view. Max promised that it was one of the best bars in Monte Carlo, with the best music and drinks. Your eyes scan the crowd outside, searching for your best friend's familiar face.

Suddenly, you hear Max's voice cutting through the noise of the street. "YN! Over here!"

You spot him waving enthusiastically, his grin wide and infectious. As you make your way towards him, you can't help but mirror his excitement. It's been far too long since you've seen each other.

"Max!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Max pulls back, holding you at arm's length to look at you properly. "God, I've missed you," he says, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. "How was your trip? Are you ready for a proper Monaco night out?"

"I've missed you too, you goofball," you laugh, the sound light and carefree. "And yes, I'm more than ready. You promised me the best bar in Monte Carlo, remember?"

"Oh, trust me, you won't be disappointed. Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."

He leads you into the bar, his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

As you approach a table in the corner, you see a group of people gathered around it. You recognize a few faces from the paddock, but there are some new ones too.

"Everyone," Max announces, his voice carrying over the music, "this is YN, my best friend I've been telling you all about."

You wave, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Max starts pointing out faces, rattling off names of other drivers and team members. You try to keep up, smiling and nodding at each introduction.

"And this," Max says, gesturing towards a young man with bright eyes and an infectious grin, "is Lando Norris. He's just joined F1 this year."

Lando stands, extending his hand with a charming smile, "Nice to meet you, YN," he says, "Max has told us a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope?" you say, raising an eyebrow at him

"Oh, only the best," Lando's grin widens. "Though he failed to mention how beautiful you are."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you glance at Max, who's watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

"Alright, alright," Max interrupts, though his tone is playful. "That's enough flirting with my best friend, Norris. YN, come sit down. What's your poison? First drink's on me."

As the night progresses, you find yourself increasingly drawn into conversation with Lando. He talks about his experiences as the brand new Formula 1 rookie, you tell him about your job and that rom com you watched last week. Talking to him feels extremely easy, like you were meant to bond together.

Suddenly, a familiar melody fills the air. Your eyes light up as you recognize the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay. The song has always been a favorite of yours, and you never expected it to be played at a bar in Monaco out of all places.

You glance around, expecting to see others reacting, but to your surprise, only Lando seems to share your excitement.

"You know this song?" you ask, unable to hide your grin.

Lando's face breaks into a wide smile. "Are you kidding? I love Coldplay. This is one of my favorites."

Without thinking twice about it, both of you starting singing to the lyrics. You're off-key and uncoordinated, but your voice is full of joy.

As you sing, you can't help but steal glances at him. He's beaming, eyes crinkled at the corners as he grins widely. There's something incredibly endearing about seeing this professional racing driver let loose and simply enjoy the moment.

The song finally comes to an end, and you both collapse back into your seats, breathless and grinning. The rest of the group erupts in laughter and applause.

"Well," Max says, raising an eyebrow and looking between you and Lando with a knowing smirk, "looks like you two have found your song."

Monaco, 2020

The Starlight Bar looks different tonight. Maybe it's the way the lights seem to shimmer a little brighter, or how your heart races with anticipation. You smooth down your dress, checking your reflection in the window one last time before stepping inside.

You're not here to meet Max tonight. No, this time you're waiting for Lando. The past few months have been full of late-night calls, inside jokes, and a growing anticipation that's led to this moment – your first official date.

You've replayed your conversations in your head countless times, analyzed every text, every laugh shared over the phone. But nothing could quite prepare you for the nerves you're feeling now.

The door opens, and there he is. Lando walks in, looking dashingly handsome in a blue button-down shirt that brings out his eyes. When he spots you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Hey, you," Lando says softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek. His familiar scent envelops you, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him. "You look beautiful."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, your skin tingling where his lips touched. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Norris," you manage to reply, proud of how steady your voice sounds despite the butterflies in your stomach.

As you settle into a cozy booth, your knees touching under the table, you feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. This is Lando, your friend, the guy who can make you laugh until your sides hurt. But it's also Lando, the man who's been occupying your thoughts more and more lately, the one whose smile makes your heart race.

The conversation flows easily, picking up right where you left off in your last call. Lando tells you about his recent race, his eyes shining with passion as he describes the thrill of the track. You share stories from your week, relishing in the way he listens intently, hanging on your every word.

He reaches across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact.

"I'm really glad we're doing this," he says softly, his thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "I've been wanting to ask you out for ages."

You squeeze his hand, feeling a rush of affection. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was starting to think you'd never make a move."

Lando grins sheepishly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, I had to make sure I had the perfect wingman first." He nods towards the bar, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" filling the air.

You can't help but throw your head back with a huge smile. "You remembered," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

"Of course I did," Lando's grin widens, pride and affection in his eyes. "How could I forget our impromptu duet?"

As the familiar melody fills the air, you both start singing along, just like you did that first night. Your voices blend together, slightly off-key but full of happiness. People turn to look, some smiling at your enthusiasm, but you barely notice. In this moment, it feels like you and Lando are the only ones in the world.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself breathless, not from the singing, but from the intensity of Lando's gaze. He's looking at you with such warmth and adoration that it makes you melt.

"You're a charmer, Lando Norris," you say, your voice soft and full of affection.

"Only for you, love," he replies, his thumb gently caressing your hand.

The air between you feels charged, filled with unspoken words and growing anticipation. You glance at his lips, then back to his eyes, seeing your own desire reflected there.

"Want to get out of here?" Lando asks, his voice low and slightly husky.

You nod, not trusting your voice. Lando quickly settles the bill, and then you're both heading for the exit, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back.

You've barely made it a few steps from the bar when Lando stops, turning to face you. His eyes search yours, asking a silent question. You answer by closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft at first, a gentle press of lips that sends shivers down your spine. Then Lando's hand comes up to cup your cheek, and the kiss deepens. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer.

The world fades away as you lose yourself in the kiss. It's everything you've imagined and more – tender yet passionate, familiar yet thrilling. When you finally pull apart, you're both grinning like lovesick teenagers.

"Wow," Lando whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

"Yeah," you agree, unable to stop smiling. "Wow indeed."

As you stand there in the Monaco street, wrapped in each other's arms, with the neon sign of The Starlight Bar in the background, you can't help but feel that this is the start of something beautiful.

Monaco, 2021

Max Verstappen was turning 24 and that could only mean one thing. A celebration at The Starlight Bar was in order.

The place has been transformed for the occasion. Balloons in Red Bull's colors bob against the ceiling, and a large banner with "Happy Birthday Max!" hangs behind the DJ booth. The usual ambient lighting has been replaced with pulsing, colorful lights that give the place a more club-like atmosphere.

You're right in the middle of it all, your arms wrapped around Lando as you sway to the music. The past year has been full of love and excitement, and nights like these remind you how lucky you are.

You're both more than a little drunk, riding the high of good company and great drinks. The room spins slightly as you move, but Lando's arms around you keep you grounded. You've lost count of how many toasts you've made to Max, each one accompanied by a shot that burned pleasantly on the way down.

"You're so cute when you're drunk," you giggle, pressing a sloppy kiss to Lando's cheek. His skin is warm under your lips, and you resist the urge to pepper his entire face with kisses.

"Mhh, I love you," Lando whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The words still send a thrill through you, even after months of hearing them. They never fail to make your heart race and your stomach flutter.

Max appears suddenly, throwing his arms around both of you. "You two are disgustingly adorable. I'm starting to regret introducing you."

You stick your tongue out at him, feeling playful and uninhibited. "You love us, Verstappen. Admit it." The words come out more garbled than you intended, but you're too happy to care.

Suddenly, Lando's head snaps up, his eyes wide with an idea. "Babe! We need to hear our song!"

You know exactly what he means, and the thought fills you with giddy excitement. Without hesitation, you both stumble towards the DJ booth, Lando leading the way. You giggle as you watch him try to walk in a straight line.

"Excuse me," Lando says to the DJ, trying his best to sound serious despite his drunken state. He leans on the booth for support, flashing his most charming smile. "We need you to play 'Speed of Sound' by Coldplay. It's very important."

The DJ looks amused but obliges, probably used to strange requests from drunk partygoers. As the familiar notes start playing, you and Lando cheer, much to the confusion of everyone else in the bar.

"This is our song!" you announce to no one in particular, your voice carrying over the music. You grab Lando's hand, spinning him around in a clumsy twirl that nearly sends you both tumbling to the floor.

You sing at the top of your lungs, not caring how off-key you sound. The lyrics, so familiar now, flow easily even in your drunken state. Lando joins in, his voice blending with yours just like it did that first night two years ago.

As you sing, memories flash through your mind - that first meeting, your first date, countless happy moments spent in this very bar. Each one is tied to this song, to the man singing beside you. Your heart feels like it might burst with happiness.

Your friends watch from the sidelines, shaking their heads with fond exasperation. You see Carlos filming the whole thing on his phone, no doubt planning to use it as blackmail material later. But you don't care. In this moment, you and Lando are in your own world.

As the song ends, Lando pulls you in for a kiss that tastes of tequila and happiness. It's messy and uncoordinated, your noses bumping together as you both grin too much to kiss properly.

"I love you," Lando says again, his forehead resting against yours. "So much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Your heart swells at his words. Even in his drunken state, the sincerity in his eyes is unmistakable. "I love you too, Lando. More than I ever thought possible."

The night continues in a blur of laughter, dancing, and more drinks. You vaguely remember challenging Max to a dance-off, Lando cheering you on from the sidelines. At some point, someone suggests karaoke, and you find yourself on a makeshift stage with Lando, belting out an off-key rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'".

As the party winds down in the early hours of the morning, you find yourself curled up in a booth with Lando, pleasantly exhausted. Your head rests on his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around you. The room is still spinning slightly, but you've never felt more content.

"Hey," Lando says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Move in with me."

You lift your head to look at him, wondering if you've heard correctly. "What?"

Lando's eyes are bright, a mix of alcohol-induced courage and genuine emotion. "Move in with me," he repeats. "I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to come home to you after races. I want… everything. With you."

Your heart races at his words. It's a big step, one you've thought about but haven't dared to bring up. "Are you sure?" you ask, searching his face. "This isn't just the tequila talking?"

"No, it's not the tequila," Lando laughs, shaking his head. "I've been thinking about it for a while. I just… I love you, YN. And I want to build a life with you."

Tears prick at your eyes, happy ones. "Yes," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

Lando's face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls you in for a kiss that's full of promise and future plans. As you melt into the kiss, you think about how far you've come since that first night at Starlight.

As you leave the bar, leaning on each other for support, "Speed of Sound" plays one last time. You and Lando share a smile, both thinking the same thing - this song, this bar, will always be a part of your story.

Monaco, 2022

The Starlight Bar has become your second home over the years. Tonight, you sit at your usual booth, Lando's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders. The familiarity of it all brings a smile to your face – the way the bartender knows your order by heart, the slight dip in the leather seat where you always sit, the faded marks on the table from countless nights of laughter and conversation.

The bar hasn't changed much since you first stepped foot in it three years ago, but your life certainly has. You've moved in with Lando, your belongings now intermingled with his in a cozy apartment overlooking the Mediterranean. Your relationship has deepened, growing stronger with each passing day.

You take a sip of your drink – a cocktail the bartender created just for you, named "YN's Starlight Special" – and lean into Lando's warmth. He's fresh off a podium finish, his second of the season, and there's still an aura of excitement around him. You couldn't be prouder.

"What are you thinking about?" Lando asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. His voice is soft, intimate, meant only for you despite the bustling bar around you.

"Just how much has changed since we first met here," you reply, tracing patterns on the back of his hand with your finger. "And how much has stayed the same."

Lando hums in agreement, his chest vibrating against your side. "Yeah, who would've thought that awkward kid who couldn't believe his luck singing Coldplay with a beautiful girl would end up here?"

You laugh, the sound mingling with the ambient noise of the bar. "You weren't awkward," you protest, then pause. "Well, maybe a little. But it was cute."

"I'm still cute," Lando pouts, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated manner that never fails to make you smile.

"The cutest," you agree, leaning in to kiss him. It's a soft, sweet kiss, full of familiarity and comfort. When you pull back, you can't help but marvel at how this feeling – the flutter in your stomach, the warmth in your chest – hasn't faded even after years together.

As if on cue, the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" start playing. You both laugh, the sound mingling with the familiar melody. It's become something of a tradition now – rarely does a night at Starlight go by without this song playing at least once.

"Do you think we'll ever get tired of this song?" you ask, looking up at him.

"It's our song, baby," he kisses your temple softly, "The one we'll dance at our wedding."

Your heart races, sensing the weight of his words. "Lando," you breathe, pulling back to look into his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying… I want to marry the fuck out of you," he says with a smile, "Not right now, not tomorrow, but someday. I want that to be our next step. If… if that's what you want too."

Tears prick at your eyes, happy ones. This isn't a proposal, not yet, but it's a promise. A glimpse of the future you both want. "Yes," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. "Yes, that's what I want too. Someday."

Lando's face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls you in for a kiss. You melt into it, the final notes of "Speed of Sound" fade away, but the melody continues to play in your heart.

Little did you know, the harmony of your relationship was about to turn sour.

Monaco, 2023

The tension in your shared apartment is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You stand in the living room, arms crossed defensively over your chest, watching as Lando paces back and forth. The past few weeks have been a struggle, filled with arguments and cold silences. Tonight feels like it could be a breaking point, and the thought terrifies you.

Your eyes drift around the room, taking in the life you've built together. Photos from happy times line the walls - you and Lando at various races, on vacations, with friends. But right now, those memories feel distant, overshadowed by the growing rift between you.

"The guys are heading to Starlight," you say, your voice tight with barely contained emotion. You're desperate to break this cycle, to find a way back to the couple you used to be. "We should go. It might do us good to get out."

Lando stops pacing, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The gesture, once endearing, now just serves as a reminder of the tension between you. "I don't feel like it, YN," he says, his tone clipped. "You go if you want."

The dismissal stings, cutting deeper than you want to admit. "Lando, come on," you plead, taking a step towards him. "We barely spend any time together anymore. This could be good for us."

You reach out to touch his arm, but he flinches away, and the small rejection feels like a knife to your heart. Lando's eyes, once so full of love when they looked at you, now seem distant and cold.

"What would be good for us is some space," Lando snaps, his words sharp enough to make you step back. "Just… go. Have fun with your friends."

You flinch at his tone, hurt and anger bubbling up inside you. "Fine," you say coldly, grabbing your jacket from the back of a chair. "I'll go. Enjoy your 'space'."

As you storm out, slamming the door behind you, you fight back tears. The walk to Starlight is a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of where things went wrong. When did the love of your life become a stranger? When did your home start feeling like a battleground?

The bar, once a place of joy and fond memories, now feels hollow as you step inside. The familiar sights and sounds that used to bring comfort now just serve as painful reminders of happier times. Your friends greet you enthusiastically, their faces lighting up when they see you, but their smiles fade when they notice Lando's absence.

"Everything okay?" Max asks, concern evident in his voice. He knows you well enough to see through any facade you might try to put up.

You force a smile, but it feels fake even to you. "Yeah, Lando wasn't feeling well. He stayed home." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to admit the truth.

That your relationship is falling apart and you don't know how to fix it.

As the night progresses, you try to lose yourself in conversation and drinks. Your friends do their best to keep your spirits up, sharing funny stories and making sure your glass is never empty. But your phone burns a hole in your pocket, silent and accusing. No messages, no calls.

Then it happens. One of your friends, oblivious to the situation, posts a story on Instagram. Your heart drops as you see it – Lando, out at another club, surrounded by people you don't recognize.

You stare at the screen, unable to look away. Lando is smiling, his arm around a girl you've never seen before. He looks happy, carefree. Everything he hasn't been with you lately.

As if to twist the knife further, "Speed of Sound" starts playing over the bar's speakers. The opening notes of the song wash over you, and suddenly you're transported to Lando. The two of you, singing along at the top of your lungs, not caring who heard. The song that once symbolized your love now feels like a cruel joke.

You excuse yourself, rushing to the bathroom where you can break down in private. The world blurs as tears stream down your face. You lean against the cool tile wall, trying to catch your breath.

How did you get here? The happy memories of singing this song with Lando feel like they belong to someone else now.

You stay in the bathroom for what feels like hours, trying to piece yourself back together. When you finally emerge, makeup hastily fixed, you find your friends looking at you with sympathy. They know. Of course they know.

"Want us to kick his ass?" Max offers, only half-joking. He pulls you into a hug.

You shake your head, forcing a weak smile. "No. I just… I need to go home."

Your friends exchange worried glances, but they don't try to stop you. They know you well enough to recognize when you need space.

The walk home is long and lonely. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of your broken relationship pressing down on you. By the time you reach your apartment building, you're exhausted, emotionally and physically.

The apartment is dark and quiet. Lando's shoes are missing from their usual spot. He's still out, probably at that club. You sink onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you from all sides.

As you sit there in the darkness, you realize that this might be the beginning of the end.

And across the city, Lando dances on.

They don't play "Speed of Sound" at the club he’s at, but he doesn't even notice.

Monaco, 2024.

The apartment that once felt like a warm, loving home now stands cold and empty. Boxes are scattered across the floor, each one a painful reminder of the life you and Lando built together - and are now dismantling.

The breakup wasn't sudden or dramatic. It was a slow, agonizing process of trying to salvage what you both once had. Countless tearful conversations, promises to do better, even a desperate attempt at couples therapy. But in the end, you both had to face the harsh reality: the love that once burned so bright had faded to embers, and no amount of effort could rekindle it.

The day Lando moves out is etched into your memory. You watch as he carefully wraps the framed photo of your first podium celebration together, his hands trembling slightly. You both agreed he should keep it - a bittersweet memento of happier times.

"What about the Starck lamp?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando looks up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away. "You keep it," he says softly. "It was always more your style anyway."

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The process of dividing your shared possessions feels like cutting your heart into pieces. The art pieces you bought together on your trip to Italy - you get the abstract painting, he takes the landscape. The set of Le Creuset pots you received as a housewarming gift - split down the middle, just like your relationship.

But there's one thing you never settle - the Starlight Bar. Neither of you can bring yourselves to claim it, to deny the other person access to a place filled with so many memories. So it hangs there, an unspoken agreement to share this last piece of your history.

As Lando carries the last box out, he pauses at the door. For a moment, you think he might say something - maybe even change his mind. But he just gives you a sad smile and walks out, closing the door behind him with a soft click that echoes in the now-empty apartment.

You collapse onto the floor, surrounded by the remnants of your shared life, and let the tears flow freely.

Monaco, 2024.

It's Saturday night, and the silence in your apartment is deafening. A few months ago, this would have been unthinkable. Saturdays in Monaco were your special time with Lando away from busy schedules and race weekends.

You glance at the clock: 9:37 PM. By now, you'd usually be curled up on the couch, Lando's arm around you as you debated what movie to watch. Or maybe you'd be in the kitchen, playfully bickering over what to make for late night dinner, the air filled with laughter and the aroma of cooking food. On particularly good nights, you might have already been in bed, tangled in the sheets, breathless and giddy with love.

But tonight, you're alone. The TV remains dark, the kitchen untouched. The bed, when you look at it, seems vast and empty, a cruel reminder of what you've lost.

You try to distract yourself. You pick up a book, but the words blur together, meaningless. You open Netflix, but every show seems to remind you of something you watched with Lando. Even scrolling through social media backfires when you see mutual friends posting about their weekend plans.

As the loneliness grows, you find yourself reaching for your phone. Your thumb hovers over your contacts, muscle memory almost making you call Lando before you remember you can't do that anymore.

Instead, almost unconsciously, you open the location sharing app. You've kept Lando's location, unable to bring yourself to delete it. It's a digital string to him, one last connection you can't bear to delete.

You tell yourself you shouldn't look. That it's unhealthy, that it will only bring you pain. But the need to know, to have some idea of what he's doing without you, overrides your better judgment.

With a deep breath, you tap his name. The map loads, and your heart stops as you see the familiar location pin.

The Starlight Bar.

Your mind races, coming up vivid images that feel like daggers to your heart. Lando, sitting in your booth, his arm draped casually around another girl. Is she pretty? Funnier than you? Does she make him laugh the way you used to?

You imagine them ordering drinks, maybe even your special cocktail. The thought of Lando introducing it to her - "You've got to try this, it's amazing" - makes you feel physically ill. It was your drink, your little inside joke with the bartender. Now it's just another piece of yourself you've lost.

As you curl up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, the worst scenarios play out in your head. What if they're dancing? What if, in a cruel twist of fate, "Speed of Sound" starts playing?

The idea of Lando sharing your song with someone else sends a fresh wave of pain through you. You can almost see it - Lando's eyes lighting up as the familiar melody fills the air, turning to this new girl with a grin. "This is a great song," he might say, conveniently forgetting or deliberately omitting its significance. Would he sing along? Would he pull her close, swaying to the rhythm that once belonged to you and him alone?

Or worse - what if he's already told her about the song's importance? What if he's trying to recreate your memories with someone new, effectively erasing you from the narrative? The thought makes you gasp, a sharp pain in your chest as if your heart is literally breaking all over again.

Through your tears, you dial Max's number, desperate for some comfort. When he answers, your voice cracks as you speak.

"He's at Starlight," you simply say.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'he' is. There's a pause, then, "Want me to come over?"

Max has been your rock these past few months, always there with a shoulder to cry on or a distraction when you needed it most. He was there to pick up the pieces when Lando told you he was leaving, and he had been there the other times your heart broke over him.

He’s the best friend you could ever ask for.

"No, I… I just needed to tell someone. God, why do I even care? It's been months."

You can almost hear Max's sympathetic smile through the phone. "Because you love him," he says gently. "It's okay to still hurt."

"I hope it's shitty at that stupid bar," you spit out, anger taking over you, "I hope he's miserable and he hates every second of it."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel childish. But Max doesn't judge. "I'm sure it is. Nothing's the same without you there."

"I just... I can't stop thinking about him there. With someone else. In our place."

"I know, YN. It's not fair," Max says softly. "But you can't torture yourself like this. Have you thought about maybe... I don't know, turning off his location? Or deleting the app?"

The suggestion makes your stomach churn. "I can't," you whisper, your voice cracking. "It's stupid, I know, but it's like... it's the last connection I have to him. If I delete it, it's really over."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "YN," Max says gently, "it is over. I'm sorry, but holding onto this isn't healthy. It's keeping you from moving forward."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You know he's right, but hearing it out loud makes it real in a way you're not prepared for. Tears start flowing freely down your cheeks.

How does one let go of Lando Norris?

Across town, at the Starlight Bar, Lando sits in what used to be your favorite booth. The leather seat feels familiar under him, but everything else feels wrong. He's there a girl he met a month ago. She's pretty and kind, with a bubbly laugh that turns heads. But as Lando looks at her, he can't help but see the ghost of you in every corner of the bar.

The bartender recognizes Lando, giving him a knowing look. Lando orders his usual drink, pointedly avoiding your special cocktail. He can't bring himself to share that with anyone else.

The DJ, also noticing him, puts on "Speed of Sound." The familiar opening notes fill the air, and Lando immediately perks up, muscle memory kicking in as he scans the room. For a split second, he expects to see you, to hear your voice joining in with the chorus.

But you're not there.

His date looks at him quizzically, not understanding the significance of the song or Lando's reaction. "Do you like this song?" she asks, trying to make conversation.

Lando forces a smile. "Yeah, it's… it's a good one."

As the song fades out, Lando feels a piece of himself fading with it. He realizes, with a pang of regret, that he might have lost more than just a relationship. He's lost a part of himself, a part that only existed when he was with you.

The night drags on, each moment in the bar a bittersweet reminder of the life he used to have. And across town, you cry yourself to sleep, both of you haunted by the echoes of a love that once seemed unbreakable.

In the end, the Starlight Bar stands as a silent witness to your shared history - a place where memories linger like ghosts, where a simple song can bridge the gap between past and present, and where two hearts, though separated, still beat in time to the speed of sound.

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hellishjoel · 6 months ago

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taste you

514 words // joel miller x f!reader

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word: book

warnings/information: smut!!! pussy pronouns!!! joel being a book boyfriend!!! oral f!receiving!!! fingering!!! dirty talk!!!

a/n: joel miller, you will always be famous. my banners are by @saradika-graphics. shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

Joel slowly nudges your legs open with a gentle guide of his hand, his lusty eyes flicking between your sleep shorts and the flustered look on your face.

“This how they do it in your books?”

Your mouth is watering. You’ve never felt more attracted to Joel, all broad with his chest puffed and looking to prove something.

He’s noted how enamored you’ve been with a particular book series. One book after the other, he swears he sees you clutching one with new cover art every night. But whenever he asks about it, you clam up.

He thinks, it’s just a book, right?

But after leafing through the pages of your most recent obsession left on the nightstand, he’s intrigued.

There’s a lot of fucking sex in here. A lot.

No wonder you always wiggle around in bed when you read it. You’re turned on as hell.

This book was clearly written for the female perspective, but thinking about doing these things with you was getting him a little riled up, too.

Now, he’s here, quoting similar lines from your book while his mouth makes out with your cunt. His tongue works slow and precise movements up and down your seam, moaning at the taste of you as your fingers comb through his greying waves.

You whimper his name as he gently suckles on your clit, his tongue and teeth flirting with your sensitive bundle of nerves while his thick fingers stretch your throbbing pussy.

“Joel,” you pant breathlessly, digging your head into the pillow as your stomach only tightens with immense pleasure.

“Know she likes this,” Joel mutters with a smirk against your folds, his lips lacquered in your arousal. “Know this pretty pussy likes bein’ taken care of. That’s all she needs, someone to take care of her.” He curls his fingers, the tips gently massaging that special spot only he can service.

“Oh— shit,” you gasp, your thighs beginning to shake as your impending orgasm sinks low in the base of your stomach. “Joel, fuck, your goddamn mouth,” you groan his name as he attaches his mouth to your pulsing clit, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head.

Everything he spoke was pure filth.

“She’s so damn pretty, baby. Wet just for me. You know how much this turns me on? You laid out on this bed, takin’ what I give you. Eatin’ this pussy so good, you can barely talk.”

Joel’s taunts make you whine, your body writhing against his possessive hold as he reaches up your front, his fingers toying with your peaked nipples. It’s just enough to push you over the edge, every nerve in your body set alight simply by what your books have taught him.

“Holy hell,” you pant as he licks his fingers clean, a smirk painted on his lips as he writes the letter J on your thigh in your sticky arousal.

“You can have your book boyfriends, I don’t mind,” Joel mutters as he runs his fingers along his square jawline, “but you’re mine off the page. Okay, baby?”

What do you say?

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #The Last Of Us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal

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scoupsakakitty · 4 months ago

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Hii hellooo, may i have a request like svt 14th fem member youngest like they care abt platonically and protective specially when there's some male idol who wants to hit on her? Or like whenever they are shooting and some people stare at her, or during live some like that and like they become protective but the reader doesn't have any clue thank youu

Unspoken Rules | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

"Y/N, stand over here," Seungcheol murmured, subtly guiding her to the middle of the group as they prepared for a live broadcast.

Y/N blinked up at him, confused. "Why? What's wrong with my spot?"

"Nothing. Just... better camera angle," he answered smoothly, glancing over at Joshua, who was already nodding in silent agreement.

"Right," Y/N said, unconvinced but not questioning it further.

The members had always been protective of her—she was their youngest, after all. But lately, something had been feeling... off. Like there were unspoken rules she wasn't aware of.

The broadcast started, and everything seemed normal—until she noticed the way Jeonghan casually placed a hand on the back of her chair whenever a certain male idol sitting across from them spoke to her. Or how Mingyu laughed a little too loudly whenever she responded to said idol’s questions, effectively drowning out the conversation.

It wasn’t until later, when she scrolled through comments, that she saw fans noticing it too.

"LMAO the way Seventeen turns into a human shield whenever a guy talks to Y/N." "DK literally just changed the topic mid-sentence when that dude asked for her number." "Do they realize she’s an adult? 😭"

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay," she started as she marched into their waiting room, crossing her arms. "What is going on?"

The room went silent. Some members pretended to check their phones, others suddenly found their drinks very interesting.

"You guys are acting weird," she pressed.

"We're always weird," Vernon pointed out, unhelpfully.

"Don't change the subject!" She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why you guys keep acting like my personal security team every time a guy so much as looks at me."

A long pause. Then, Woozi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, Y/N, you’re our little sister. We don’t trust these guys."

"Yeah," Hoshi nodded seriously. "Some of them seem... too interested."

"Too interested?" she repeated, confused.

"Like, flirting," Jun clarified, making a face as if the word itself was offensive.

Her jaw dropped. "Wait. You guys think they—?" She burst out laughing. "You guys are ridiculous."

Seungkwan scoffed. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the dude who tried to ask for your number last week."

"What?! When? Who?"

"Exactly," Dino muttered. "You don’t even notice."

Minghao crossed his arms. "That’s why we have to."

Y/N stared at them, realizing just how deep their protectiveness ran. It wasn’t just playful big-brother energy—they genuinely looked out for her.

She sighed, shaking her head. "And what if I want to finally meet someone? What if I wanted to give him my number?" She looked at them, exasperated. "You guys can’t protect me forever."

Seungcheol, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his voice firm but gentle. "Yes, we can. And we will. Until we know for sure that the guy is good enough for you."

The room hummed in agreement.

"Exactly." "Facts." "Scoups speaks for all of us."

Y/N groaned dramatically and fell backward onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I can’t win against you guys, can I?"

"Nope," Jeonghan grinned, ruffling her hair again.

She huffed but couldn't help the small smile creeping onto her face. Maybe having thirteen overprotective brothers wasn’t so bad after all.

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cybrasigilism · 4 months ago

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Hi, love your work! Could you write a virginity loss for the reader with thanos in the bathrooms of the games! Can y/n also be shy since it's their first time and have thanos be understanding and talk her through it +handjob ? Please and thank you!!

can’t lie i went a little insane when i saw this one 🤭🤭

Consideration (Thanos/Choi Su-bong [Player 230] X F! Reader HEADCANONS/DRABBLE)

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYYY!! again with the point format, i feel much more at ease getting my ideas out this way, so please bear with me. my apologies if it’s hard to read because of this

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

➸ thanos, who couldn’t stop flirting with you throughout the games purely for the flustered reaction you gave almost on command.

➸ thanos, who upon finding out you were a virgin, found a way to get you alone in the bathrooms of the squid games, sneaking past the guards who surely didn’t care that he was in the wrong bathroom to begin with

➸ thanos, who had you pressed up against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom stall as his lips crashed against yours. he wasted almost no time in sliding his cold hands up your shirt, sending a shockwave of goosebumps and pleasure up your skin

➸ thanos, who spent so much time kissing and sucking on your neck, you would have been shocked if you walked out of this unscathed by hickeys. each time his tongue passed over your sensitive skin, you saw stars

➸ thanos, who had you kneel between his legs as he pulled his dick out, guiding your hand in his up and down the length of it.

➸ thanos, who encouraged you through the entirety of the handjob. who told you “fuck, your hands are so soft”, “ngh, feels so good when you touch me like that baby..”, “you’re doing great, keep going just like that, yeah” between breathy moans

➸ thanos, whose hands never ceased to roam your body when you decided to straddle him for the first time. he reassured you when the pressure of sinking down onto him became almost too much at points, wiping the tears from your face. of course, he let you sit there for as much as you needed to adjust.

“shit, y’re taking me so well, señorita.”

“hey, hey— you’re doing amazing so far, don’t cry!”

“fuck i can’t wait to make you feel good…”

➸ thanos, who eased you into the whole process of riding him. he was used to a faster paced, intense, more hot and heavy kind of session, but this time was different. he could see the anxiety in your eyes, he definitely knew how big of a deal this was for you, and he wanted to make it as special as possible— for these circumstances anyhow.

“that’s it, you’re practically a natural already. that’s my girl, fuck.”

➸ thanos, who moved your hips himself when you had gotten shy on him. you were insecure of how good of a job you were doing, but he wasn’t going to stand for that. you already know he was going to make sure you knew how good you were doing— or rather, how good you felt.

“holy hell, you’re so tight.. fuck i dunno how long i’ll last señorita”

“so good… so good and all f’ me”

“don’t s—top, god i don’t ever want you to stop”

“what’s wrong? you’re fucking me so good, keep going!”

➸ thanos, whose moans drove you wild when you eventually got the boost of confidence you needed to start riding him yourself. the sounds he was making made you tighten even more than you thought possible, which in turn made him cry out even more.

“shit, if you keep going like this ‘m gonna cum”

“fuck yes, fuck me like that.. you got it, oh god, you got it”

“need ya’ s’bad… i needed this so b—ad, fuck!”

➸ thanos, who wrapped his arms around you after you came. he pulled you into him, chests heaving in tandem as you both came down off this metaphorical high. he caressed the back of your head, the praises he sang for you continued flowing.

“that was fucking, wow. y’ did so good, señorita.”

“see? i knew you could do it, such a good girl for me.”

─────────────

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY GUYS!!

to the anon that requested this, i truly hope this is something like what you had in mind. and to everyone as a whole, i hope you enjoyed! i’ve been fighting off a mean writer’s block so i apologize if this isn’t my best work, but i’m just glad to put something out!

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

#squid game 2 #squid game #fanfiction #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #player 230 #thanos x reader #player 230 x reader #choi su bong #thanos #imagines #headcanons

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miss0atae · 7 months ago

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How to ask your crush to have a date, a guide by Pond from Perfect 10 Liners:

Tell him that you want to eat with him (even if he already has a sandwich in his hands). It’s is well known that food and love work hand in hand.

Use your face card to convince them. It's a trump card that usually works! The cuter you look, the better.

Then, you'll just have to quietly enjoy your little romantic time with your crush.

#bl series #bl drama #thai series #thai bl #perfect 10 liners #perfect 10 liners the series #episode 4 #pondsand #pond x sand #how to flirt a special guide #silly post #I used to have fun writing Phum's flirting guide when watching we are

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xmalfoyweasleyx · 1 year ago

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Jealousy, jealousy - Azriel x reader

Summary: The whole inner circle is tired of you and Azriel flirting with each other, without acting on it. So Rhys decided to help his sister and Azriel with that, by planning a special birthday party for her. Based on this request.

Warnings: Smut! 18+! Az is jealous (but it's fluff)

Azriel couldn’t stop watching you. Again.

You were sitting on the couch in front of him at the townhouse, silently watching your brother, Rhys, talk. Azriel loved watching you, your shy, yet clever eyes were always so observant. On top of that, you looked beautiful tonight. You wore a dress that looked like it was made of starlight and your pretty lips were painted in a color that made-

“You’re daydreaming again, Az,” Rhys interrupted his thoughts, making Az’s eyes quickly avert his gaze from y/n, to her brother sitting next to her.

“Probably dreaming about his undying love for Truth-Teller,” y/n smiled. The shy, yet flirty smile that always made Az go week in the knees.

Before he could even try to suppress it, a wave of warmth filled Az’s cheeks, exposing his adoration. You were the only person who could make him blush like that. It has been this way since the first day he’d met you, when you were teenagers, which is already centuries ago. Rhys only introduced his sister years after he’d met Azriel and Cassian. She was still young, but so was he. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with her. The way she was hiding behind her brother, shy, yet curious, peeking behind his shoulder at the two Illyrians standing in front of her. Suddenly a smile was on her curious face, and the first thing you’d said was: “Are those shadows yours? They’re very beautiful.”

Since that moment, Az was a goner. He never acted on it though. Too scared, too insecure and too worried he would ruin your friendship. It had been the same for years. The flirting, the teasing. But never more than that.

Until a few months ago. When the bond snapped.

In that moment, Azriel couldn’t be any happier. It all made sense now. But then he realized, it didn’t snap for you. You didn’t seem to know. And it happened all over again, he was scared. What if you didn’t want him as your mate? What if it would freak you out? And what if Rhys would hate him for it?

“You’re still staring at me, Azzie” he heard y/n’s soft voice, yet again interrupting his thoughts. He looked confused for a moment, as if finally realizing where he was. “Oh yes, I'm sorry, you do look beautiful tonight y/n, you can’t blame me,” he smiled nonchalantly. It was always like this, the flirting and the compliments. It was normal.

“You look great too Az,” you returned the smile. Another wave of warmth heated his face. He quickly tried to hide the flushed cheeks, when fortunately, Cassian guided the attention to him. “So, what are we going to do for your birthday tomorrow y/n?” Cas asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess we could go out or something? Nothing special, just like we always do,” you answered.

Rhys clicked his tongue at that. “Nothing special? My dear sister, I think you don’t know me that well then. We have the perfect surprise for you.” That was something new. “Do we?” Az asked confused. “Well, now I’m curious,” Feyre smiled.

What Az didn’t know is that the whole inner circle knew about his “secret” feelings for you, only Az and y/n were oblivious. Honestly, his friends didn’t know how the observant shadowsinger didn’t notice how obvious it was. He always gets shy and smiled with y/n. It was a mystery how he didn’t realize the fact he had a lovesick look all over his face when he’s watching her. So Rhys, the good brother he is, decided to come up with a plan. The easy strategies didn’t work, so he decided to use the one thing Az couldn’t hide, jealousy.

*******

When it was finally the evening of your birthday, it turned out Rhys’ surprise, indeed, was special. Your brother had decided to take you all to some dance show’ but it wasn’t some normal dance show, you realized when you saw the poster hanging on the door of the club. It were only male dancers. Male dancers with not so many clothes, it seemed. “Now I’m really curious brother” you sighed. “You’ll love it.”

Your brother was right, it was so much fun. You ate and drank with the inner circle, watching the show from your shared table. They even got you a cake with fireworks. But that wasn’t the only surprise.

You were all cheering when one of the dancers came to you. He was muscled and had beautiful, curly blonde hair. Before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your hand and pulled you on the stage with him. The male put you on a chair in the middle of the stage and started moving around you, your face flushed immediately.

He smirked at you, showing off his impressive moves. You couldn’t help but smile at him. It was fun to let go for a moment and enjoy the silliness of it all. The whole inner circle was cheering for you.

Az on the other hand, didn’t like it that much. He balled his hands into fists, when he saw the way the male grabbed your hand and guided you to the stage. He gritted his teeth, the way you blushed, the way he was moving around you and even touched you… And then you smiled at that male.

Az had to muster every ounce of self-control. He did all he could to not just get up on that stage, and bring you back to their table. He wanted to be the one to touch you like that. He wanted to be the one to make you smile.

Even after the show was over and you were brought back to your original spot, Az couldn’t shake off the jealous feeling. His whole body was still tense and he had a dark look on his face.

“Something the matter, Azriel?” Rhys smirked teasingly, grabbing his friend's shoulder, knowing damn well why he was acting like this. “No.” Azriel answered shortly, taking another big sip from his drink.

******

Y/n was so tired when she arrived at her bedroom. She sat on her bed, taking her shoes off with a relieved sigh, ready to go to sleep. But suddenly she heard someone knock on the door. It was Azriel.

“Hey Az, what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to say goodnight after such a… special… birthday evening,” he grinned.

“Yeah it was… something,” you giggle. You sat next to each other on the bed in silence for a moment.

“Did you think he was hot?” Az blurted out. “Who?” you asked confused. “That guy, the one who danced for you,” he grumbled. “Oh, I-I don’t know, he was fine,” you faltered.

Az didn’t answer. “Are you okay Azzie? You seem tense.” You rubbed his shoulder gently, trying to comfort him.

“I didn’t like it” he stated. Y/n was confused. “W-were you… were you jealous?” Az only sighed, looking down.

“It was just, he was… he shouldn’t touch you like that” he tried to explain without making his jealousy too obvious. You were disappointed for a moment, he probably just didn’t like it because he saw you as his little sister, you thought. Because he wanted to protect you. “I’m sorry Az,” you silently said. “No, no, don’t apologize y/n, it’s my fault, I’m acting stupid.”

“I get that you feel like this, you see me as a... sister, you feel protective over me or something, I get it Az,” you sighed. Azriel looked up, his hazel eyes carefully watching you. He frowned, “Do you really think that’s how I feel about you?” It’s silent for a moment. “I was jealous y/n, very jealous” he finally confessed.

“Y-you were?” you stroked his cheek softly, fingertips tracing the freckles down his neck. Azriel nodded, you looked in each others eyes for a long moment. His pupils dilated, a hungry look on his face. Then the room suddenly filled with the smell of your arousal. “You want to… you want to show me what you look like without that shirt then?” you hesitated. “Yeah? You want that?” he smirked. “Yes” you answered breathlessly.

Az slowly took his shirt off, your eyes tracing the lines of his muscles hungrily. “Much better than that male,” you sighed. “C’mere” he groaned, surprising you by grabbing your hips and lifting your body on top of him in one move. You were straddling him now, arms tightly wrapped around his neck.

And then his lips were on yours, hungrily moving against each other. He grabbed your ass, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your mouth, “Azzie, Az please.” You started moving against him, pressed so close to each other, yet it wasn’t enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered against your lips. “I want you.”

“And what exactly do you want from me? Tell me y/n,” he groaned.

“Your cock, I want to feel you in me, Azriel, please” you begged.

“So pretty when you beg like that, darling. But not so fast.” He wrapped his arms tightly around your back and turned you around. You’re back now against the bed, with Azriel’s body hovering above you. His wings were spread wide and his shadows were moving around you. Silently asking their master for permission to touch you too.

They helped him with getting you out of your birthday dress, the soft tendrils caressed your skin so deliciously. The shadows danced around your whole body, touching you almost everywhere. You felt a familiar heat growing in lower stomach.

The male above you spread your legs wider, placing soft kisses closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

You grabbed his dark locks in your hand, eagerly trying to guide him to your pussy. “Patience, baby, patience,” he calmly said.

His hands traveled up your body, gently grabbing your breasts, his palm stroking your nipple. “So pretty for me,” he cooed.

And then he finally pressed his soft lips against your pussy, a load moan left your mouth. He started to lick like a starved male. His lips softly wrapping around your clit, sucking messily. He then wrapped your legs around his head, locking in his face in between them. He groaned into your cunt, “Azzie, yes, feels so good”.

Then you noticed that he was grinding against the mattress, trying to find some relief too. He was already so turned on, just from the taste of your pussy. “I want you to feel good too,” you whined. Azriel replaced his tongue with his fingers, the scarred skin softly rubbing your clit, “Oh I already feel amazing, baby, don't worry.”

You gasped when you felt his finger enter your pussy, stroking the soft walls. Your breathing grew louder. “Yeah, you like that?” He chuckled.

It felt amazing, but you wanted him in you, you wanted him pussy drunk, feral for you. So you could only do one thing, touch his wings.

You gently stroked the less sensitive part on the outside of his wing, testing the waters. He groaned, “Oh baby, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

You decided to stroke a more sensitive part, making him grab your thighs harshly. Az sat up. “Come here, you dirty little girl,” he said huskily. “Do you want me to fuck you y/n? Is that what you want, huh?”

“Yes, please, yes” you whined.

“How could I deny that pretty face? My beautiful little girl,” he cooed, leaning in closer to press his lips against yours again. You helped him pull his pants down, his impressive length sprang free. You gulped. He was long.

"Don’t worry, if you want to stop we’ll stop” he murmured into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin gently. “No, no! I can handle it,” you claimed, your hand wrapping around him, eager to feel the soft skin in your hands. He groaned into your ear, “Shit, you have no idea how turned on I am right now.” You giggled, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, already soaking wet.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. “Yes, I’m sure Az, want to feel you”

He slowly entered you, sucking your nipples as a distraction for the pain. But it was a good kind of pain, you wanted more. So you grabbed his ass, trying to push him deeper into you. "Don't... don't be scared, it feels good," you said in between heavy breaths.

“Needy little girl” he grinned. His rhythm picked up and his thrusts started to get harder. His hips slamming against yours

“You feel so good, this pussy is mine isn’t it? Only mine” he whimpered into your ear. “Yes, Az, my pussy is yours. I'm yours,” you moaned. Az started to fuck you harder, “Say it again” he demanded.

“I’m yours, only yours Azriel”

“That’s right, good girl,” he moaned, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle made you gasp. Your places your hands against his chest, your nails softly stroking down his abs.

Azriel was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on your swollen lips, the lips he couldn't believe he just kissed, and the way your tits bounced because of the force of his thrusts.

He looked so handsome like this. His messy hair falling over his face, his eyes half-lidded, the blush on his cheeks and the heavy breaths that left his mouth.

“I’m already so close Azzie,” you whined. "Already?” He teased. You nodded. “I want you to come with me,” you pleaded, one of your hands lifting up again to stroke the inside of his wing. Az moaned at the feeling, the arm that held him up collapsed beneath him, his body softly falling against yours.

His chest was now pressed against you, the position was so intimate. His thrusts started to get sloppy. “Baby, baby…” he whined softly in your ear. Both drunk on the feeling of each other.

His fingers circled your clit, making you moan his name like a prayer, over and over. The familiar feeling coiled in your lower belly, finally snapping when he nibbled on your earlobe. High-pitched moans filled the room, your orgasm washing over you like a big wave. Azriel moaned with you, his brows knitted together.

“Where do you want me? On your tits? On your pussy? In your pretty mouth?”

“In me, I want you in me Az, please,” you whined, craving to feel more of him, to be claimed by him. You wanted to be his the way no one ever was before. Az groaned in answer, heavy breaths tumbling out of his mouth. You felt him release inside your pussy, moaning your name against your cheek, riding out his high slowly.

Azriel fell next to you with a loud sigh. His arms tightly wrapped around you. He placed a soft kiss against your neck and stroked your inner arm. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this.” he confessed. “Me too” you answered. You should probably talk about this, but for now, you just wanted to sleep. Comfortably in Azriel’s warm arms.

********

The next morning, y/n was watching Azriel sleep next to her. Her hand stroked his naked chest while her other hand played with his soft dark hair. He looked like an angel, laying there, so peaceful.

And suddenly, she felt a tug in her chest. A thread, a feeling like no other. Y/n gasped, making Az’s eyes open slowly. “Good morning” he whispered with a smile. Y/n only stared at him.

She couldn’t believe it. He was her mate. Her mate.

“Y-you’re my mate” she whispered. Az sat up immediately, grabbing her cheek gently. “It snapped? It finally snapped for you too?” He whispered, his eyes getting teary. “You knew?”

“I’ve known for a few months now, but before last night, I didn’t think you’d want me” he murmured. “Oh Az, of course I want you, I’ve loved you since we were teenagers and met in Windhaven, I’ve loved you since I noticed the beautiful, smart and compassionate male hidden behind those shadows,” you smiled. “I love you” he smiled, kissing you softly.

An hour later you went downstairs together. The rest of the Inner Circle was already in the living room, doing each their own thing.

Rhys’ eyes immediately went to your intertwined hands, an unreadable look on his face. “Rhys, before you say something, I want you to know I would never hurt your sister and I am-“ Az quickly tried to explain. But Rhys interrupted him with a voluminous laugh.

“Finally!” He smiled, getting up to face you both. “I’ve been trying to get you together for the last year, but you both were so oblivious” he teasingly rolled his eyes and opened his arms, hugging you both. “Yeah honestly Az, it was about damn time” Cassian smirked.

#acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel x rhys!sister #rhysand #azriel x reader smut #azriel fluff #azriel x reader fluff #azriel shadowsinger

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gdinthehouseee · 4 months ago

Text

Valentine's: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: a steamy valentine's date with ji-yong in his penthouse

word count: 6397

tags: fluff, mature (for spice? steam? there's no actual smut)

ao3 link

It was finally Valentine’s day. You had spent the night back at your own place, something you haven’t done in probably months ever since you started dating Ji-yong—practically already moved in together at his place instead. Last night, he told you he wanted this day to be special, so you figured you would go home for the night in order to put some real effort into your look tonight. Naturally, this morning, you spent hours making sure everything was perfect: everything from your outfit to the gift you bought him. At least it was easier to hide that.

Finally, the sun had set and it was time for the real fun to begin.

The scent of something rich and savory fills the air as you step into Ji-yong’s penthouse, the warm lighting casting soft shadows across the sleek interior. Your eyes immediately land on him—standing by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stirs a pot on the stove.

“You’re just in time, aein.” He says smoothly, glancing over his shoulder to give you a once-over. His gaze lingers a little longer than necessary. “Did you dress up just for me?”

You scoff, setting your bag down. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who looks like you’re about to seduce someone.”

“Maybe I am.”

Before you can fire back, he closes the distance between you and reaches for your hand, guiding it to his chest dramatically. “Feel that? My heart’s racing already. You really do have that effect on me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You roll your eyes, but your expression betrays you as you keep your hand over his heart.

“You know you love it,” he teases, tugging you closer until you’re nearly flush against him. “Now, if you’ll behave and keep me company, I might even let you taste what I’m cooking.”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief and flickering towards your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Or, you could just taste me instead. Your choice.”

“Ji,” you whined. “What’s gotten into you?”

Thankfully, your bashful smile let him know that you were both enjoying his boldness. No matter how much you rolled your eyes or tried to act unaffected, the soft curve of your lips gave you away every time. Ji-yong lived for that—watching the way your defenses crumbled under his charm, the way your gaze flickered between playful defiance and quiet surrender. It was a game he loved playing, pushing just enough to make you flustered, but never too much to overwhelm you. And judging by the warmth creeping up your cheeks, he was winning.

“Am I not allowed to flirt with my girl?” He jokingly pouted, one hand remained over your hand on his chest while his other hand found its home at your waist.

“Of course you are.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said before pressing a quick peck to your lips. “C’mon, let my cooking impress you instead.”

The countertop is lined with ingredients, a simmering pot sending out a rich, mouthwatering aroma. You watch as he moves effortlessly around the kitchen, confident in every step. He grabs a spoon, dips it into the sauce, and turns to you with that signature smirk still plastered on his face. “Here. Taste.”

You lean in slightly, expecting him to hold out the spoon properly, but instead, he lifts it higher—forcing you to tilt your head back as he guides it between your lips. The warmth of the sauce spreads across your tongue, but all you can focus on is the way Ji-yong’s gaze drops to your lips, his smirk deepening.

“Good?” He asks, his voice lower now.

You swallow, trying not to show how flustered you suddenly feel. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

He hums in satisfaction, but instead of stepping back, he raises a finger and swipes it across the corner of your lips. “You had a little something…” He brings his finger to his own lips and licks it off, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. “Can’t waste it.”

You scoff, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he muses, tilting his head, “you’re still here.” He leans in just a fraction closer, his voice dropping. “Does that mean you like it when I tease you, jagiya?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the counter, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—other than the way he’s looking at you. “You clearly need supervision, so I’m helping.”

“Helping? That’s cute.”

“I know how to cook, you know.”

“Sure you do,” he teases, stepping behind you so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Before you can respond, his hands slide over yours, effortlessly guiding them to the knife on the counter. “Let me see, then.”

Your fingers tighten slightly on the handle, heat radiating from his body behind you. “Ji-yong.”

“Hm?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, completely unfazed. “I’m just helping, right?”

You exhale sharply, trying to ignore the way his voice drips with amusement. “I don’t need you hovering over me.”

He hums as if considering your words, then suddenly reaches around you, grabbing an ingredient from the counter—brushing against you just enough to send a jolt up your spine. “Ah, my bad,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

You whip around, intending to glare at him properly, but the moment you do, he lifts a small piece of fruit to your lips. “Open up, aein.”

“What—”

“Shh.” He taps the fruit against your bottom lip, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Be good and try it.”

Despite your attempt to act like you were annoyed with him, you open your mouth, and he places it on your tongue, his fingers lingering a little too long. His eyes flicker down, watching the way your lips close around it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You chew slowly, refusing to let him see just how much he’s getting to you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grins. “Of course I am.” He picks up another piece, twirling it between his fingers. “The question is… are you?”

You swallow, willing yourself not to fall into his trap. Instead, you decide to turn the tables. Two can play this game. With a slow, deliberate movement, you step closer, reaching past him to grab a piece of fruit for yourself. He watches, amused, as you bring it to your lips—but instead of eating it right away, you pause. You roll the fruit lightly between your fingers, letting your lips hover just above it, pretending to inspect it. “Hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, glancing at him through your lashes. “I don’t know… do you think I should try it, Ji-yong?”

His smirk falters just slightly—his eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. You don’t give him a chance to recover. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, you bring the fruit to your mouth and take a bite, your lips just barely brushing your fingers. Your tongue flicks out to catch the sweetness, and you swear you hear Jiyong’s breath hitch.

You let out a small, pleased hum as you chew, tilting your head. “Mmm. You were right. It’s good.”

His smirk is still there, but his jaw tenses slightly. “Glad you approve.”

You take another bite, even slower this time, then reach up with your thumb to wipe the juice lingering at the corner of your lips. His eyes track the movement immediately. For the final blow, you bring your thumb to your lips—just like he did earlier—and suck the sweetness away, holding eye contact the entire time.

Ji-yong stills. You see it—the exact moment the teasing backfires on him. His smirk wavers, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, you even heard the way his breath hitched. For once, he doesn’t have a witty comeback.

Satisfied, you tilt your head. “Something wrong?”

Jiyong exhales, slow and measured, before abruptly closing the distance between you.

“Oh, aein,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up with just two fingers. His gaze is dangerously dark now, heated in a way that makes your stomach flip. “You really wanna play this game with me?”

You blink innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckles, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. His hand doesn’t drop from your chin—instead, his thumb brushes along your jawline, slow and teasing.

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, his lips so close you can feel his breath. “But you should know better than to tease me, princess.”

Before you can react, his other hand suddenly slides down, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your breath catches, and he grins, fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

“Now,” he says, voice nothing but smooth velvet, “let’s see how long you can keep up, hmm?”

Oh. You’re in trouble.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you. His smirk is still there, but there’s something darker behind it now—something that makes your pulse skyrocket. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish this game he started. Not that either of you want to stop playing.

“You’ve been getting bold,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. “Teasing me like that. Acting all innocent when we both know you’re not.”

You refuse to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

Ji-yong lets out a low, knowing hum. “No?”

Before you can react, he shifts, caging you in completely—his arm sliding around your lower back, his other hand pressing flat against the counter beside you. He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“Then why,” he murmurs, voice rich with amusement, “do you look like you’re about to melt?”

You inhale sharply, trying to keep your composure. But it’s impossible when his presence is so overwhelming—the scent of him, the heat of his body, the way his lips are hovering over your skin, never quite touching, but making you ache for it anyway.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, challenging him right back. “If anyone’s about to melt, it’s you,” you whisper.

Ji-yong exhales sharply through his nose—a laugh, but barely. His grip tightens, his body pressing into yours just enough to make you shiver.

“Oh?” He muses, tilting his head. “That so?”

His hand on your waist slides lower, fingers grazing over the curve of your hip—slow, deliberate, teasing. He’s watching you, studying the way your breath catches, how your fingers clutch at the counter behind you.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone.

His lips brush against your jaw, featherlight, before ghosting down your neck. It’s barely a touch, but it’s enough to make your stomach tighten. However, he can’t help himself as he begins to kiss your jawline. Slow and soft pecks trailing down your jaw and your neck, until he reaches your collarbone.

“Still think I’m the one melting?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice so dangerously low it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers instinctively grip his shirt, as if holding onto something solid will keep you from completely losing yourself in him. Of course, he notices, and he grins against your neck.

“You’re already falling apart for me.”

Your head is spinning, your breath uneven, but how could it not be? Ji-yong is right there, pressing against you like he has no intention of letting go—and God, he looks unfairly good doing it.

The dim lighting casts soft shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the mischief in his eyes, the slight smirk tugging at his lips, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead like he was made to look this effortlessly perfect. His jaw is so sharp it could cut, his skin so frustratingly smooth it’s unfair, and then—those lips. Lips that are so close to yours now, parted just slightly, so warm against your skin as he teases you without even trying. His scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—wraps around you like a slow-burning haze, making it impossible to think of anything but him. And then there’s his hands—warm, and so damn sure of themselves, holding you in place, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your stomach tighten. His confidence, the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, has you completely undone before he even touches you properly. How is it fair that someone can look this good and know exactly how to use it? And worse—how are you supposed to survive it?

And then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP!

A loud, obnoxious timer shatters the moment.

For a second, neither of you react—both frozen, caught in the tension that had been building like a slow-burning fire.

Then, he exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lets out a deep, frustrated groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, his grip on your waist flexing like he’s resisting the urge to just ignore it altogether.

You, on the other hand, are biting back a grin. “Ji-yong,” you say, feigning innocence, “I think something’s burning.”

His fingers tighten just slightly before he finally pulls back, shooting a glare toward the kitchen timer like it personally offended him.

“I hate that thing,” he deadpans, jaw clenching as he forces himself to step away from you.

You laugh, still breathless, but can’t help the way your lips curve in satisfaction. “You were the one who insisted on cooking.”

His eyes darken again instantly, and suddenly, you realize teasing him right now might be dangerous. He lets out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back like he’s trying to shake off the tension that had just settled so thickly between you. His jaw is still tight, and you don’t miss the way his fingers flex before he finally forces himself to step away.

“You’re lucky I care about feeding you,” he mutters, tossing a glance your way as he checks on the food.

You cross your arms, watching the way his back muscles shift under his shirt as he moves around the kitchen. It’s almost unfair—even when he’s frustrated, he looks good enough to ruin you.

“I don’t know,” you muse, leaning against the counter. “Seemed like you cared about something else a lot more just now.”

Ji-yong pauses. For a moment, he just stands there, hands braced against the counter, before he slowly—so slowly—turns to face you again.

“Oh?” His voice is deceptively light, but his gaze? Dangerous. “Are you saying you’d rather skip dinner?”

“Didn’t say that.”

He hums, his eyes still too intense as he starts plating the food. “Good,” he murmurs, sliding a plate in front of you before leaning in just slightly. “Because you’re gonna need the energy later.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate how easily he turns the tables back on you. He grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing, before grabbing his own plate and nodding toward the dining table. “C’mon, aein. Let’s eat.”

You exhale, trying to calm the warmth in your cheeks, before following him.

He lights a few candles, their soft glow casting warm flickers of light across the sleek tabletop. The ambient dimness makes the setting feel far too intimate, like something straight out of a private five-star restaurant. He places the plates down with precision, adjusting them like an artist perfecting his masterpiece. A bottle of expensive wine appears next, because of course he has that on hand, followed by two glasses that catch the light just right. He even adds a small vase with a single rose—a dramatic touch, but so undeniably him. When he finally steps back, admiring his work, he catches you staring and smirks. “What?” he teases, tilting his head. “Didn’t think I’d put in the effort?”

Your gaze flickers back to Ji-yong, who’s watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“I just…” You trail off, lips parting slightly as you glance at the setup again. “I wasn’t expecting all this.”

He leans casually against the chair, his smirk only growing. “You wound me, aein,” he sighs dramatically. “Do you really think I’d invite you over for dinner and not make it perfect?”

“Perfect, huh?”

He shrugs, stepping closer—too close. “Well,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he reaches for the wine, “it’ll be perfect once you sit down and let me pour you a drink.”

You finally sink into your chair, still feeling a little dazed from how effortlessly Jiyong managed to make this dinner feel so special. He pours you a glass of wine first, his fingers steady and graceful, before taking his own seat across from you. For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the candles flickers between you, casting shadows over his sharp features. He watches you as you take the first bite, eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“Well?” He asks, resting his chin on his palm, waiting for your reaction.

You pretend to consider, chewing slowly as if deep in thought.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t even—”

Before he can finish, you let out a dramatic sigh, setting your fork down. “I guess it’s okay…”

Ji-yong scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s amusement flickering behind them. “You’re such a brat,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Give me that.”

Before you can stop him, he reaches across the table with his own fork, stealing a bite from your plate. His expression shifts almost immediately—satisfaction mixed with pure smugness.

“Yeah,” he hums, chewing slowly. “Tastes like perfection. Just like I thought.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “You really know how to fish for compliments, huh?”

He tilts his head, a lazy grin forming. “I don’t need to fish for them. I already know I’m amazing.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

But as you glance around the table—the candles flickering, the way he watches you between bites, the small, intimate details he put into everything—you realize something: he didn’t have to do all this. When it comes to showing his love for you, Ji-yong loves extravagance, sure, but this dinner? This was different. This wasn’t for show. This wasn’t for anyone else. This was for you.

Your heart softens, and without thinking, you murmur, “Thank you, Ji.”

He pauses mid-bite, blinking at you like he wasn’t expecting that. “For what?”

You shrug, nudging a piece of food around your plate. “For this. For making it special.”

His smirk falters for just a second before something warmer takes its place. He leans back in his chair, watching you closely, his teasing tone now laced with something softer.

“Of course, aein,” he murmurs, lips quivering. “You deserve it.”

And just like that, your heart is completely gone.

Dinner continues at a slow, unhurried pace, both of you enjoying the food and each other’s company. The teasing ebbs into easy conversation, laughter spilling effortlessly between bites, and for a while, it’s just… nice. Comfortable. Like the world outside doesn’t exist. He watches you fondly as you take another bite, his elbow resting on the table, chin propped up on his hand. He’s been staring at you like that for a while now—like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“What?” you ask, lips twitching as you meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” he says, swirling his wine glass lazily. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How cute you look when you’re enjoying your food.”

A flush creeps up your neck before you can stop it. “Oh my god, Jiyong—”

He grins, setting his glass down. “What? It’s true.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table as his voice drops just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. “You make the smallest happy noises when you like something. It’s adorable.”

Your mouth opens—ready to argue, ready to defend yourself—but then you realize you can’t even deny it. He must’ve been paying such close attention to notice that. And that realization? It makes your heart ache in the best way.

You clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass just to avoid looking directly at him. “You notice too much.”

Jiyong exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just notice you.”

The words settle between you, gentle but weighted, sinking in like warmth spreading through your chest. There’s no teasing in his voice this time. Just honesty. That’s more dangerous than any flirtation. For a moment, you just look at him—this man who could have anyone, who could be anywhere, but right now, he’s here. With you. Watching you like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to.

“…You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” you finally murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He starts grinning as if he had just won something. “Oh, I know.”

“Unbelievable.” You groan, tossing a napkin at him.

But even as you shake your head, you can’t stop the softness creeping into your smile. By the time dinner winds down, you feel light, warm, and completely at ease. The teasing has softened into something quieter, something closer, as you sit across from Jiyong in the glow of candlelight, your empty plates long forgotten.

Ji-yong finishes the last sip of his wine, then sets his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad for a home-cooked meal, right?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm… I guess you can keep your title as a decent chef.”

He scoffs, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Decent?” He stands, making his way over to you, his smirk lazy but his eyes holding something softer. “Jagiya, you practically moaned over that food.”

Your jaw drops. “I did not—”

He laughs, reaching out to take your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, quieter. “I have something else planned.”

Before you can ask what, he tugs you up from your seat, guiding you toward the spacious living area. The city skyline stretches out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking backdrop to the moment. But it’s not what captures your attention. It’s the way he holds your hand so naturally, like he was always meant to.

“What are we doing?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Dancing.”

He reaches for a remote and clicks a button. Within seconds, soft, slow music fills the space, blending seamlessly into the ambience of the night.

Your breath catches slightly. “You planned this?”

Ji-yong’s fingers thread through yours, his other hand settling lightly at your waist. His touch is warm, steady—so sure of itself, like he’s been waiting for this.

“I told you,” he murmurs, leading you into an easy sway. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Your heart stumbles, warmth spreading through your chest like honey. How does he do this? How does he make you melt with just a few words?

“You’re so dramatic,” you tease, but your voice is softer now, barely above a whisper.

He grins, pulling you just a little closer. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it because right now, wrapped up in his arms, your bodies moving in slow rhythm beneath the dim glow of the penthouse lights, you can’t remember a time when you felt this safe. And when Jiyong’s hand slides up your back, his touch gentle but grounding, you know—you don’t want this night to end.

His grip on your hand tightens just slightly before he lifts it, guiding you into a slow, effortless twirl. You let yourself spin under his touch, the motion making the hem of your outfit shift slightly, your hair catching the light just right. For that brief moment, everything feels weightless—dreamlike. But when you turn back to face him, you catch the way he’s looking at you. His gaze roams over you slowly, deliberately, like he has every intention of memorizing you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his dark eyes drinking in every single detail as if seeing you for the first time.

Warmth rushes to your face as you clear your throat, shifting slightly under his stare. “What?” you ask, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his expression as he tugs you closer again, resuming your slow sway. His voice drops, low and utterly sincere.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches. Not cute. Not pretty. Beautiful. And the way he says it—so effortlessly, like it’s just a fact—makes your heart stumble.

“Getting shy, are we?”

You groan, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Completely smitten with you?”

You huff, looking away, but that only makes him grin wider. And then, in a move that’s entirely unfair, he leans in, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t look away. I meant it.”

Your stomach flips.

Oh, he’s serious. So serious.

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, his expression warm, unreadable, and maybe even a little too tender. His hand lifts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch so gentle it nearly undoes you.

"You should hear it more often," he muses, voice low and honeyed.

Your lips part, but no words come out—because how are you supposed to respond when he says things like that?

He watches your reaction, his teasing smile softening. His arms tighten around you as he spins you playfully again, stealing another lingering glance before pulling you back into him. His gaze is nothing short of adoring.

The soft melody still lingers in the air, but you stop moving first.

Ji-yong’s brow lifts as you take a step back, though his grip on your waist tightens, like he’s not ready to let you go. His lips curl. “What, done with me already?”

You grin, tilting your head. “Maybe.”

His smirk falters. Just slightly. You take advantage of the moment, slipping from his hold to retrieve something from where you’d hidden it earlier. You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you.

“Relax, I’m not leaving,” you tease, casting him a glance over your shoulder. “I just have something for you.”

When you turn back, holding a small, neatly wrapped box, Jiyong looks genuinely surprised. His gaze flickers between the gift and your face, and for once, he seems… speechless.

“You got me something?” He finally asks, like the idea never occurred to him.

You smirk, stepping closer. Close enough that he has no choice but to focus on you.

“Of course,” you murmur, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, just to see his reaction. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t?”

Jiyong inhales, but his smirk returns—a little slower this time. “That’s what I normally say.”

“Not anymore.” You grin, pressing the box into his hands. “Now, open it.”

He watches you for a second longer, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing. Then, finally, he pulls at the ribbon and lifts the lid.

The moment he sees what’s inside, his smirk fades.

The bracelet inside is sleek, but there’s a personal touch—a custom engraving on the inside. Jiyong’s thumb drags over it, his eyes lingering.

“You really know me, huh?” His voice is softer now.

“Obviously.”

His gaze snaps back to yours immediately. This time, there’s something different—an intensity that wasn’t there a second ago. For the first time tonight, you feel like you have him cornered. Slowly, you reach for his wrist, lifting it between both of yours. “Here,” you murmur. “Let me put it on for you.”

His fingers twitch slightly when your fingertips brush against his skin. You don’t rush. Instead, you take your time. He exhales slowly as you fasten the clasp, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. His gaze stays locked on your face, but there’s a flicker of something else. Something like anticipation. Restraint.

“You’re quiet.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Am I?”

“Mmhmm.” You run your fingers over his wrist deliberately, letting your touch linger. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

His jaw tenses. Oh, this is fun.

You let your fingers trace the bracelet just a little longer than necessary, then glance up at him through your lashes. You can see it now—the tiniest hint of pink dusting his ears. He knows what you’re doing. And he can’t stop it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his voice coming out a little rougher than before. “You’re playing with fire, aein.”

You smile innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

His gaze darkens—and just like that, the shift happens. His fingers catch your wrist mid-movement, grip firm but careful. His smirk is back, a little lazier now, a little more dangerous. “You think you can tease me?” he murmurs, tilting his head. His thumb brushes against your pulse point, slow and deliberate. “That’s cute.”

Your breath hitches—not because of his words, but because of the way he says them. He steps closer.

“I should give you something too,” he muses. His grip doesn’t loosen. “Something to match.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can even question it, he releases you and disappears into the other room.

And when he returns, dangling from his fingertips, is a delicate necklace.

The necklace swings in Jiyong’s hand, glinting with the soft lighting as he holds it just out of reach. There’s a predatory look in his eyes, the glimmer of amusement dancing across his features as he teases you.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, your voice playful but filled with challenge. “You really think I’m just going to beg for this?”

His smile widens, his gaze darkening slightly. “I don’t think you will. I know you will.” His voice drops an octave, dripping with confidence as he steps closer.

You refuse to back down, crossing your arms, determination flooding your veins. “I’m not begging.”

“Oh, but you will,” he murmurs, stepping closer. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now, though the smile never fades. “You’ll ask. In your own way.”

You scoff, but there’s a flutter in your chest, excitement mixing with the heat he’s radiating. “You’re not getting ‘nice’ from me.”

The corner of his mouth tilts upward, a silent challenge flickering in his gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest in one swift motion, your back hitting him hard as he spins you around. You gasp, slightly disoriented, but you’re quickly steadied by his hands on your waist. You try to steady yourself, trying to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. “I’m not begging.”

Ji-yong’s lips brush against your ear, his voice low. “You don’t have to beg, but you do need to ask. Nicely.”

He’s testing you, pushing your limits with every word. The coolness of the necklace rests in his hand, so close you can practically taste it. But he doesn’t make a move to put it on you just yet. Instead, he slides the necklace slowly between his fingers, watching you with that quiet intensity. His lips graze your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You’re fighting to maintain control, to keep your composure, but it’s hard with the way he’s acting.

“You know, princess,” he whispers softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

You try to focus, but his hands slide down your arms, slow, deliberate, every touch purposeful. He leans in, his lips just barely grazing the back of your neck as he savors the moment, lingering for far longer than necessary.

“I’m not begging,” you murmur, but the words are shaky now, losing their strength.

He laughs, soft and rich, a sound full of dark amusement. He moves back slightly, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. You try to take a deep breath, but he takes his time, the necklace still dangling loosely from his fingers. Every second feels like an eternity as he looks you over—taking you in, analyzing you.

“Say please,” he demands suddenly, his voice cool and commanding, forcing you to look at him. You try to hold your ground, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s already won—makes it impossible. His eyes flash darkly as he leans in again, his lips grazing your skin with a lingering kiss along your neck. The warmth of his breath makes your pulse quicken. The tension between you two only grows thicker, more suffocating, until you can’t keep your composure anymore. You shiver slightly, trying to breathe through the moment.

Finally, unable to stand the pressure any longer, you whisper it: “Please, Ji-yong.”

The second the word leaves your lips, his hand moves, quick and sure, as he slides the necklace around your neck. The cool metal is the only thing that cools the fire spreading through your veins. But even after he places the necklace carefully around your throat, his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. He adjusts the chain slowly, his fingertips grazing your skin with each touch, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

The way he looks at you now—the satisfaction in his gaze—is almost enough to make you forget everything else.

“Good.” He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, lips curling just enough to show the power he’s taken from you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

As he waits for your response, his eyes still locked on yours, you can’t help but smile, your fingers gently brushing over the delicate chain of the necklace he just put on you. The way the soft sparkle catches the light makes you pause, admiring how it fits perfectly around your neck, just like it was made for you.

You tilt your head slightly, your fingers lightly grazing the pendant as you gaze up at him. "You know," you start, your voice soft and filled with admiration, "I can’t stop looking at it."

He watches you, clearly intrigued. "Yeah? You like it?" His voice carries a hint of pride, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes, too. It’s like he’s hoping you truly appreciate it.

You smile, your fingers gently tracing the necklace, and your eyes lift to meet his. "I love it," you say, your voice warm, sincere. "You really know how to pick the perfect gift."

Ji-yong's gaze softens, his earlier teasing gone as he watches you with a fond expression. "I’m glad," he murmurs, stepping a little closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "It’s all for you, princess."

For a moment, you both just stand there, the sweet sincerity of the moment filling the space between you. The tension from before fades away, replaced by something softer, more intimate. You catch his eyes again, a small smile on your lips, feeling the weight of the gift and the gesture behind it settle in. You then continue to gaze at the necklace, your fingers tracing its smooth, delicate pendant as you let out a soft sigh. The way it catches the light only seems to make it more beautiful, but it’s not just the gift that’s leaving you speechless—it’s the gesture, the care behind it, and the way Ji-yong’s eyes are locked onto you, full of affection.

"It’s perfect," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as you lift your gaze to meet his. You’re so focused on the warmth in his eyes, the way he’s watching you, that it’s almost like everything else disappears for a moment.

He steps closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you softly. It’s tender, almost too gentle for the electric tension building between you. You can feel the heat of his body pressing into yours, and when he pulls back, his voice is low, almost growling with desire.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours. "But I need you now."

Ji-yong doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. As soon as his words sink in, he’s on you again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. His hands move with purpose, gripping your waist, pulling you against him until there’s nothing left between you but heat. His kiss is demanding, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he takes everything you’re willing to give—and more.

A soft gasp escapes you as he presses you back against the nearest wall, his body molding to yours, his hands roaming your curves like he can’t stand a single inch of space between you. One hand cups your jaw, angling your face so he can deepen the kiss, while the other slides down, gripping your hip before tugging your thigh up against his. The sheer need in the way he holds you, in the way his fingers dig in just enough to make you gasp, sets your pulse racing.

His kisses grow more urgent, more desperate, as though he’s trying to drown himself in you. He pulls away for just a second, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes dark and full of heat as they flicker over your face. Then he’s back again, kissing you harder, deeper, as if he never wants to stop. His fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill down your spine, and the sound you make has him groaning against your mouth.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and rough. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

“I could say the same about you,” you whisper back, no longer being able to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. You try to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—”

“Good. Because I’m craving something much sweeter.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @petersasteri

#kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdragon #bigbang #bigbang x reader #kpop #kpop x reader #happy valentines #valentines day #fluff #steamy #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 #kpop fanfic

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whoopsyeahokay · 5 months ago

Text

Alphabet Soup

NSFW alphabet challenge (request) pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader premise: the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. you.) warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. non-linear narrative. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). egregious use of the word 'baby'.

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A is for the addiction Wally develops once he sets his sights on you. He's feral with it. Can't get enough of your skin under his fingertips; your shapes fitted against his; the sounds you make when he takes you apart with his teeth and his tongue and his dirty fucken mouth. So different from the public persona he sheds the second you're behind closed doors.

B is for bad ideas. Like the one that crept in behind his eyelids the instant he noticed you, cute and soft and sweet as a kitten. God, he wanted to do something about it right there. In front of the roomful of people between you, no fucks given. Wally's impulsive on a good day and reckless on a bad day, and you inspire too many fantasies that he can't not want to live out.

C is for competency, control; the single-minded intensity Wally has for every task. How he moves with a perfect combination of aggression and grace on the field, catching the ball from the QB. Touchdown. How he folds over the hood of your car and fiddles with cables and tightens bolts and fixes the rattle in the engine. How he holds his own desire at bay to bring you to the edge, over and over and over again until you sob. How he makes you come as soon as he slides home, grinds in, measured and slow, making it last as long as he wants before taking pity on you and fucking you into the mattress.

D is for Wally's dirty mouth. The things he rasps at you as he takes you apart with his fingers, his mouth, his cock. "You feel so good, baby,"—"fuck, I love the way you taste,"—"I want you to come on my tongue,"—"that's it, fuck, yeah, don't stop, baby, just like that, so good for me, such a good girl..." His fingers dig into your hips as he guides you in his lap, up-down-grind-repeat; his lips on your throat, teeth in your skin, marking you up so everyone knows you belong to someone. Belong to him.

E is for the effort Wally finds himself making to see you smile. It's stupid, he thinks, because it's not like he loves you. He's horny and putting out isn't part of the deal he and Janet made at the end of Junior year. But then he sees some jackass try to touch you, making jokes Wally doesn't find funny, drawling that he'll treat you special and make you see God as you shove and kick at him. Then you start crying and Wally sees red. Steps in. Pummels the guy's nose into his skull so hard, Wally's knuckles are scraped and bloody when he caresses your face and kisses your forehead. Promises to drive you home from the party. "Fuck that guy, baby girl, he won't touch you again."

F is for the way Wally shamelessly flirts with you. The back-and-forth you and he have when surrounded by people. Dark and husky, leaning in close with his back to Janet who's too busy with her drones to care what Wally's up to. You're fierce and funny and you flirt right back once you're comfortable enough, but Wally's had a lot of practice and knows how to get you hot with the right inflections. Eyes dark and heavy, lips brushing your ear, breath ghosting your skin while his fingers trail over your hip, "I bet you'd look better on your knees for me, baby."

G is for the God-given talent Wally has. You know the one. That one he weaponizes when he wants you to stop being stubborn, be a good girl, behave. He spreads your legs, kisses down your body, then delivers his bribe; tongue-deep inside you, making out with your pussy like a gourmet dessert de la crème. He could spend hours there if you let him, moaning when you grind your pretty pink kitty against his mouth, so close, Wally, oh God—it's all he needs to sustain himself.

H is for how Wally holds you down against the mattress; up against the wall; in his lap as he sits back on his haunches, one arm banded around your waist, the other braced behind him as he rolls his hips up, sharp thrusts and deep grinds into you, "That's it, baby, keep bouncing on daddy's cock...just like that...fuck." His big hand clasps your thigh when he flips you onto your back, pushing it up as far as your flexibility will allow, spreading you open for him, wanting to get as deep as he can, wanting to make you scream his name and forget your own.

I is for the intensity of Wally's stare as he watches you from across the room, his eyes tracking you as you laugh with your friends. He strips you in his mind, licks his lips as your skirt rides higher on your thigh when you cross your legs. A flash of pink lace, the panties Wally asked you to wear that make his jeans tight and mouth water. He cups himself through the denim, casual, sprawled on the opposite couch, gaze smoothing up your legs to your hips to your collar, fucking you with his eyes until you notice and give your friends an excuse to follow Wally to the bathroom.

J is for the jealousy Wally has to keep tightly contained in his bones whenever he sees another guy approach you. Like Jacob from Pre Cal, who flirts with you as if he doesn't know you belong to someone else. Wally is too obvious, he's aware, glaring daggers at the retinue of possible others who dare step into your space. Careful, collected, Wally has to smile like he doesn't notice them as he struts over and positions himself at your back, hands on your hips to drag you against him, ass fitted into the cradle of his pelvis. He watches in satisfaction as the dipshits take their leave with their tails between their legs.

K is for how Wally kisses you. The variety of ways. Pushy and ruthless when he's agitated; too much energy and no outlet. Or soft and slow when he just wakes up, liquid smile and heavy eyes, hand cupping your jaw like you're something precious. He nips and tugs your lips with his teeth when a teammate makes a comment just this side of not fucking funny, Gary and Wally isn't allowed to do anything about it. Sometimes, his kisses are sharp, honed, exactly what you want to feel so he can get what he wants. Always, his kisses are stolen. Behind locked doors, in dark corners, wherever he can snatch them from you without getting caught.

L is for the feeling Wally is terrified to label. The one that blooms in his chest whenever you touch him, smile at him, say his name, move, breathe, exist. Shit. It's warm and tingly and drives him to distraction because this is just a fun way to pass the time, to make things more interesting; he can't want you like that... But he does.

M is for the mess Wally makes of you when he fucks you in an alley or an empty classroom or behind the stadium. Thick cock slamming into you until you come at least twice, your panties around your ankles, his jeans at his thighs, pounding into you as he grips your hips so hard you bruise. He pulls out just enough to paint your pussy with his come, smearing it through your wetness with the tip of his cock, letting his spend and your juices trickle down your leg. And when you're forced to wipe yourself off with your ruined panties, he pockets them before you can throw them away, smug and satisfied.

N is for the fact that there's nothing Wally won't try with you, do for you, take from you. He wants everything you have to give. Is determined to taste every inch of you, from top to bottom, back to front, he doesn't care, he wants it all. He's never been this consumed by someone, thinks it'll fade the more he fucks it out of his system. It doesn't work. There's always a next time, and a next, and a next. And every time he leaves wanting more.

O is for Wally's inability to be subtle when you're around. Overt, obvious, open stares of lust when you walk into a room regardless of who else is in it. His heartbeat quickens, his breathing shallows, and he feels like a mutt in rut. All dark eyes and desirous smirks, hands grazing your body when you get close enough. He thinks he's slick, secretive, getting away with murder. But the truth is, he couldn't hide how he feels about you if someone put a gun to his head.

P is for the pleasure Wally takes in pampering you. He's a gentleman like that. What makes you happy makes him happy and, fuck, he loves to dote on you. From opening car doors to surprising you with your favorite Starbucks order. Showering you in presents he thinks you'll fill out perfectly for him. His pretty little passenger princess; a precious paper doll that he dresses up like a gift just to unwrap immediately with greedy fingers.

Q is for the question Wally wants to ask but can't. The one that makes things official. That ties him to commitment and expectation. Ignoring that you're the only place he's getting his dick wet, he's not ready for that. Until he catches himself smiling—soft and fond and affectionate—when you send a text that has nothing to do with where you want him to fuck you next. And, ah hell, maybe he does want to ask. Too bad he doesn't have the nerve.

R is for how riveted, rapturous, fucking obsessed Wally is when you ride him. No matter what he claims—"your turn to do all the work, baby"—he can't hold back, always fucks up into you, flushed, panting, hands clenching your hips and stroking your thighs and squeezing your ass. He watches your body, sweet liquid movements as you ride his cock like a goddess, and comes faster than he otherwise would. But that's fine because Wally has the refractory period of a fucking nympho.

S is for those soft, sweet, silly moments that you share. The ones he coaxes out of you during the domestic lulls between fucks. He invited you over for the weekend, Janet at some friend's lake house and Wally's parents visiting his aunt one state over. Perfect timing. And it is all hard thrusts and pinned wrists and love bites on your thighs, but then it's jokes over pancakes. Forehead kisses as he holds you in the shower. Hand-holding while you walk to the gas station for snacks, his thumb sweeping the back of your hand like he loves you. Sentimental.

T is for the toys Wally loves to tease you with. He's not afraid to introduce other means of stimulation into the mix. He'll do anything if it makes you shake apart for him; if it'll make you whimper and beg for more before you plead for him to stop, too much, Wally, it's too much, I can't as he presses the vibrator against your clit. He never listens, too enraptured by the expression of pleasure on your face, the way your body responds for him, fuck, yes, "that's it, baby, come for me again, show daddy how good you feel."

U is for how uncharacteristic, unpredictable, underutilized Wally's control has become since he started this with you. He was the image of dark and dominant behind closed doors, but, three months in, he can't keep himself in check. If he has you—against a wall, in the backseat of his car, in bed, in the shower, in. on. against—his control snaps as soon as you make a single sound of wanting pleasure. He goes feral for those noises. They're his complete undoing. And he'd surrender everything you asked for just to hear them one more time.

V is for the voice notes you and Wally swap when you and he aren't together. When he hasn't had a chance to sneak away from Janet or football practice or homework in too long and he's desperate for release. He strokes himself to the tempo of your whimpers and sighs, fucks his fist when he gets to the edge before slowing down and switching voice to video. He loves to show you what you do to him, how heavy and flushed and thirsty he is for you. "Your pussy sounds so nice and wet...now show me how you want me to fuck you, baby."

W is for every whim and want Wally indulges. Of yours. Of his. Mostly of his. Gluttonous and gourmand. You want to taste caramel on his cock? Go for it, baby. He wants to get messy with whipped cream? Okay, daddy. He wants to tease you with vibrating panties while you're trying to eat at that new place on Lasher? Okay, daddy. He wants to tie you up and spank you because you came before he said you could? Fuck, yes, daddy! ... Good girl.

X marks the spot Wally hammers into at exactly the right angle when he's feeling generous. And he always feels generous with you. He's addicted to the way you look when you come. Because he did that. He made that happen. It's empowering and euphoric and he can't get enough even though he should've by now.

Y is a word followed by 'not'. A question you ask when Wally hoists you into his arms and pins you to the wall with his hips after one of the leads in the school play asks you out. He grinds against you, cock throbbing, head angry, and reminds you who you belong to; why you can't say yes to Alex Greenberg even though it's all pot kettle black. Still, as he tears your panties at the seam and fucks you with abandon, desperate and aggressive, he makes a convincing argument.

Z is for how it ends. With her, not with you, because Wally's too far into the addiction and wouldn't last a day without getting his fix. He needs you. Wants you. Fucking shit, he loves you. So it's goodbye Queen Bee Janet and hello to her silly, sexy bombshell of a step-sister. Wally has no regrets, his hand on your ass as he walks you into Prom, fist-bumping his friends and saluting the principal. He loses his crown and doesn't care at all, too wrapped up in you to notice. Hands on your hips, brow against his, fitted perfectly against him like a puzzle piece.

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below are the links to the complete collection of Alphabet Soup. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

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Alphabetical Masterlist:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Linear Masterlist:

B T K A F P V R M S D C I J H W N O E X G L Y U Q Z

#masterlist #Alphabet Soup #Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #prompt fill #alphabet challenge #ABC challenge

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royharperwifey · 17 days ago

Text

-–☆⁂☕︎Hacked☕︎⁂☆–--

~♡~ Part 2 ~♡~

After, like almost 250 likes on part one (omg) I have finally written part 2. Enjoy. Part 1

[tim drake] [part 2] [slow burn] [mlw] [damian wayne is a cutie patootie] [x reader] [fluff] [reader has glasses] [tim has glasses] [yearning!tim] [cutesy!tim] [awkward nerd!tim]

The silence stretches as Tim stares at you.

"His ward?"

"No, Timothy, his secret love child with Joker. Yes, his ward. He isn't completely heartless." You say. You making Tim look stupid caused Damian to take a liking to you.

"I like you. Make Drake look stupid again." He said, which got ignored when Tim spoke up.

"I– but– HUH??" He was having am existential crisis right now. He rubbed his temples before his brain exploded.

You offered to talk about it over lunch. It was a date. (With Damian poking your arm and asking you to make Tim look stupid again, but a date nonetheless).

>>—♡—>

"So, Sionis is your...?" Tim started as she sipped a hot chocolate.

"Adoptive father. Joker killed my biological parents and Sionis took me in as a 'fuck you' to Joker. But I grew up well. I mean I'm an engineering student. But Sionis is... thoughtful." The tone in your voice told Tim that he was not to push for more information, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Why were you following me, though. You do that to all the girls you hack or am I special?" You ask.

A smile graces Tim's lips. "No, just a regular day in life of Tim The Stalker."

Damian gagged. "You suck at flirting."

"Says the 9 year old who was rejected for the spring dance." Tim shoots back, and Damian stabs a fork into his thigh, not cutting flesh, but hurting him.

"Fuck." He whispers as he presses a hand over his thigh.

"I told you never to speak of it." Damian seethes, clearly it was a soft spot.

"Aw, kiddo. I'll go with you." You smile.

"Pardon?"

"I'll take you to the spring dance. Mine is too lame anyways." It was true, but the dejected pook in the 9 year oldest eyes makes your heart clench.

"Really?" Damian asks, confused as to why a beautiful young woman like you would want to go to a third grader's spring dance.

"Yeah."

>>—♡—>

And that's what happened. That Friday, a dapper 9 year old knocks on your front door at 6pm sharp. You open the door and you're in a cute floral dress appropriate for a primary school dance. Damian smiles with a few missing teeth at you. Alfred, in the car gives a small wave.

Damian gives you a single tulip flower. "Drake said they are your favourite. I hope you like it." He says. You smile and take the flower.

"Thank you, damian, I love it."

You look behind you as Roman Sionis stands there. Being a protective father figure, and wanting to tease the kid, he walked up.

"You better not break her heart, hear me boy?" Black Mask says. Damian nods, tempted to take his sword out and behead the man.

"Yes, sir." He says instead. Sionis kisses you on the head and let's you go enjoy your night.

"Miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth. It is lovely to meet you." The older man says.

"Hi, Alfred." You wave warmly. Damian sees what Drake sees in you. You're warm, fuzzy, chirpy and smiley.

>>—♡—>

The gym of the primary school is lit with neon lights and 10 year olds in the corner trying to act cool with gummy worm cigarettes. You take Damian's small hand and guides him to the dance floor.

"Father never taught me to dance," he admits sheepishly.

"Thats okay. I'll teach you a simple waltz." You say as you take his two hands. You slowly step forwards with your right foot, causing Damian's left foot to go backwards. The dancing teaching takes about 10 minutes until you've managed to teach him the gist of it. Soon, you're dancing with the 9 year old and you realise that this was so much funner than your stupid senior dance anyway.

Damian smiles and fetches you hors d'oeuvres. He's fancy like that.

"Drake has a very big crush on you. Like dinosaur big." He says before shoving a mini-burger into his mouth.

"Really?" You ask, not surprised, per se, but rather delighted.

"Mhm. He once spent over 30 minutes getting ready for a 'fit check' he sent you. He's pathetic." Damian muttered.

You smile as you think back to the random photos he sends. The ones that you look forward to seeing.

"I can see why he likes you. You are very kind and beautiful." He says it matter-of-factly, as though telling an simple fact rather than he, himself, finding you attractive.

"Aww, you're too cute, Damian." You smile.

"You made Drake look stupid. I suppose you are 'cute' as well. Did you enjoy the evening? Did I made an adequate 'date'?" He asks. You nod.

"You were lovely. 5 stars. Who rejected you?" You ask.

Damian turned pink as he subtly points to a ginger girl on the dancefloor who was dancing with a blonde boy who kept looking over at the two of you like he envied the guy who brought a highschooler. "Her. She's really pretty and compliments my drawings." He murmurs.

"Its okay. You'll find someone." You pull Damian into your side. Damian stiffens, but doesn't move away.

"Drake is quite lucky." Is all he says as the two of you walk out to the car.

"It is quite early, would you like to stay for some tea or perhaps some warm milk?" Damian offered. You spot Tim watching you from his bedroom window on the 2nd floor.

"Why not?" You say as you step inside.

As Damian gets washed and dressed for bed, you sitt in the dining room with a cup of tea as Tim walked in.

"Hey." He said. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?? HEY??? HEY???? WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT. He internally panics.

"Hey, stalker." You reply.

"How was the dance?" He asks. "Did bat brat give you any trouble?"

"He was actually so sweet. He told me you had a big crush on me. Like dinosaur." You laugh.

"Who wouldn't? You're beautiful and kind." Tim says it in the same tone as Damian had said it, but with a hint of something extra.

"You think I'm pretty?" You ask as you walk closer to Tim.

"So pretty." He whispers once you're close enough. He brushes some of your hair from your face. "You look stunning by the way. May I have this dance?" He asks.

"You may."

Tim takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before bowing and beginning to dance the waltz flawlessly.

"You dance very well." You comment.

"Rich parents kinda means lots of Galas and lots of dancing. But thank you, you too." He says as he spins you around, your skirt flowing with the motion.

No music plays, but your heart flutters with each movement. Tim is internally celebrating that he is not only dancing with a pretty girl, but that pretty girl is you.

His lip moves between his teeth as he spins you, trying to contain his smile. His heart stops entirely when you press your lips to his when the spin comes to an end.

And he melts. His hands find purchase on your waist as he softly pulled you closer. The world stops and it's just the two of you, in the carpeted living room, Tim in a dress shirt, red sweater vest and trousers, no shoes, mismatch socks and you in all your stunning glory in that dress.

"Would it be considered Stockholm syndrome to kiss my stalker." You whisper once the kiss ended.

"Even if it would, I tend to have a thing for the mentally ill." Tim says, trying to hide his breathlessness that came from his heart racing. Real smooth. About as smooth as low tide's jagged rocks.

"Weirdo."

"I could be your weirdo. If you'll have me that is, if you won't, that totally fine—" You cut him off with another kiss, to which he promptly melts again, his hand splaying across the bare skin of your back, exposed by the backless dress you wore.

Alfred walked in with young Damian holding his hand, who glared at Tim.

"Pardon the interruption, Miss and Master Timothy, but young Master Damian wished to bid his date a good night." Alfred said.

You crouched in front of Damian who was in green lizard pyjamas. "Night, Damian. You were a lovely date and don't worry, I'm pretty sure that ginger girl isn't worth it anyway." You say, making Damian crack a smile.

"Get home safe." He concluded before pressing his little lips to your cheek, to which you returned the chaste gesture. Damian went up the stairs and Tim looked at you as you rose back to standing.

"Do i have to be worried about competition?" Tim teased.

>>—♡—>

"Where's the young boy?" Roman Sionis asked as Tim dropped you off at your house.

"He had a bed time. I wanted to escort the lovely lady home." Tim said. You kissed Tim on the cheek, causing a lovesick gleam to glaze over his blue eyes.

"Thanks, Stalker." You smile sweetly and walk into the house. Black Mask looks at Tim with narrowed eyes, sure he's seen the boy *somewhere* before, but unable to place it.

"Enjoy your evening, boy." The door shut. But that didnt stop Tim from going home and grinning like an idiot. Steph looked at him like he was a lunatic. Damian did not spill information, but he did smile every time he saw the picture of the two of you at the spring dance, you much taller that him, in your pretty dress and makeup. The photo was framed and hidden in his desk drawer.

Tags: @jedidiah1201 @stormz369

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