#That stupid red note between the two hold notes…

[demie90s]

Reader is Geno Auriemma’s daughter, and she’s told the team she’s off limits romantically. But that doesn’t stop like three of the players (your pick!) from falling for her anyway. They try to hide it…but Geno starts to catch on.

(PAIGE / AUBREY / KK (gone laugh you out dem draws))

Off Limits

Paige x Aubrey x KK x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Being Geno’s daughter comes with rules. Rule #1? I’m off limits.

Warnings: Secret crushes, team tension, coach’s daughter drama, flirty chaos

Word count: ~ 0.6k

When I committed to UConn, Geno had one rule for the team—don’t touch my daughter.

He said it just like that. At the start-of-season meeting.

“Y’all can joke, y’all can be friends. But if I find out any of you are trying to date her, it’s gonna be a long-ass season.”

The room laughed. I didn’t. Because I knew what was coming. And I was already eating it up.

See, I was raised around this team. I knew the game and the girls. I knew how to flirt without flinching and tease without getting caught. I also knew exactly what I looked like walking into practice with lip gloss and thigh tattoos showing under my hoodie.

So, naturally, it didn’t take long for the tension to get weird.

Paige was the first one to fold. Of course she didn’t say anything. She never does. She’d just sit next to me in film, throw an arm across the back of my chair, and mumble things like, “You always smell like vanilla or trouble.” The first time she said it, I turned my head and smirked. She didn’t blink. Just nodded like she meant it, then went back to taking notes on the Princeton offense.

Cool. Blonde. Nonchalant final boss…be frl. But I saw how she looked at me during warmups. Like she was trying not to blink and miss something.

Then there was Aubrey. Sweet, low-key, absolutely failing at playing it off. Every time I walked into the gym, she’d sit up straighter. Eyes on me, then anywhere but me. I caught her dropping her water bottle once when I waved at her. Legit dropped it and kicked it across the floor trying to recover. She tried to play it off like she was stretching. It was… adorable.

KK though? Man. She was the worst. And by worst, I mean the funniest. That girl would flirt like it was a contact sport. Always talking about something like, “I know you Geno’s kid, but you be lookin’ grown.” Laughing at her own jokes, doing TikToks in the locker room while sneaking glances at me in the mirror.

She’d catch me in the hallway and say, “You got a ride home?”

I’d say, “Yeah.”

She’d go, “That’s wild, cause I was gon’ give you one… on my face.”

Loud as hell. And wrong for it. I’d double over laughing, and she’d just look smug while the rest of the team screamed in the background.

Meanwhile, I’m just existing. Cackling. Kekeing. Acting like shit is sweet. Geno’s pacing at practice yelling about turnovers, and I’m in the corner tying my shoes while KK stares like I’m the sun. Paige watches like she owns me. Aubrey brings me an extra protein shake and won’t meet my eyes.

And Geno…He’s starting to catch on.

The first time he paused mid-sentence at practice and looked between me and Paige, I knew he felt the shift. He narrowed his eyes. Paige stayed cool, flipping a ball in her hand. I smiled. Geno’s jaw tightened.

Two days later, KK gave me a ride to campus and walked me to the dorm. Geno called her into his office the next morning. He’s not stupid.

Last week, he caught Aubrey holding the door open for me like we were in a Nicholas Sparks movie. Said nothing. Just stared for a full five seconds.

Then finally, in the middle of team breakfast, Geno looked around and said, “Let me ask y’all something. Is ‘off limits’ confusing now? Did the definition change?”

The whole table went silent. Paige didn’t look up from her eggs. KK pretended not to hear. Aubrey turned bright red.

I took a bite of my cinnamon roll and smiled.

“Daddy, you good?”

He just stared at me. Then looked back at the team.

“I ain’t stupid. I see everything. And y’all not slick.”

KK coughed into her juice. Paige finally raised her eyes, met his stare, and said, “Cool. But like… hypothetically?”

Geno stood up and walked out. I damn near choked laughing.

Hypothetically, I’m somebody’s problem. Realistically? I’m about to be all three of theirs.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[ga-lily-o]

⚹ Reader is gn ⚹

Tags/Warnings: Pre-relationship // Friends to lovers // They’re both so perceptive and stupid // Make-outs (very small part) // lots of tension // suggestive language // not explicit // mentions of religious imagery (Symbolic; Eve and the apple) but they’re for the plot // like… two (2) swears // uhhhh Idk what else 😭

Summary: In the best worst decision ever, you offer to braid Eve’s hair— not long after you did her makeup, no less. You’re sure you want to die because friends shouldn’t be wanting friends this bad. Doesn’t seem like Eve cares about titles anymore though, with the way she’s staring at you now.

(Author’s note at the bottom)

You’re doing Eve’s hair this time— an excuse, really, to be able to run your fingers over the fine soft silk of it and watch the red shine in the sunlight. In the privacy of her room, surrounded by her, your fingers itch to ghost her collar, your lips are aching to plant themselves on her nape. Instead you’re threading them together with a shaking breath, mumbling under it as you twist her hair into a braid, leaving out two strands to frame her face where she’s staring at you in the mirror like she wants to devour you whole.

And you would let her, god you would let her, but your fingers are shaking in uncertainty and there’s an insecurity shaking your bones and clogging your throat. You’d ask her to love you, if you weren’t scared shitless to, like how you’re scared shitless by the thought of her catching your eyes in the mirror and knowing immediately how down bad you are.

What are you even afraid of? What’s holding you back? Some part of your brain presses itself against your restraint like someone edging you to dive off a cliff. Whispering conspiratorially in your ear: “Don’t hold back.”

But you can’t dive in. You’re holding onto the ledge for dear life, too terrified to step either way, ahead or behind—

“Ow,” Eve says softly, and your breath stutters as your hand loosens around a strand of her hair. “Careful— what are you even doing back there?”

You’re horrified, embarrassed, and utterly exposed. Less like a cornered deer and more like one caught in stoplights. Swallowing, you focus back on her hair, sheepish as you respond.

“Sorry,” you mutter, stumbling over the word before it comes out. “Your hair’s stubborn like you.”

An excuse, like this whole charade, but she looks at you in the mirror through half lidded eyes and you regret glancing up to meet electric greens.

“Right,” she says, like the shadows of her expression aren’t making your breath leave your lungs in a wheeze. “You sure you don’t just suck at this?”

You scoff, half offended, half flustered and breathless with a burning want in your gut. Her hair is so soft in your hands, and you feel something coil in your blood when you have to pull the strands across the skin between your fingers. Like lightning bolts striking copper, like being shocked back to life.

“Maybe you just suck at holding still.”

Eve’s eyes still on you until you look up again, and you’re barely able to fight the way your knees go weak at the way she tilts her head and smirks at you in the glass of it.

“Right,” she says, completely insincere.

———

Eve’s watching you like the audience member at a solo stage performance, and you don’t know if she’s enjoying the way you’re floundering or not. It’s enough to make you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, the skin of it marred by your own habits.

When you look back up to Eve again in the mirror, her eyes are laser focused on your face, and it makes you stutter and clear your throat.

“Your— uh, hair, is done,” you tell her, hands settling slowly onto her shoulders, fingertips burning where your indexes slide onto her collarbones themselves. Something lighting up in your soul, feeling the way the skin there is soft as it looks and even warmer than you’d thought. And her Adam’s apple bobs, and she swallows, hard.

Her hand comes up to settle over yours, your fingers weaving at the knuckles like everything you do represents the distance between you both. Like you’re eternally going to be chasing each other around with a gap between you; a line drawn in the sand neither of you remember making.

But Eve is braver than you, you think, because she pushes her fingers snug into the spaces between yours, and you almost want to feel embarrassed about the way your breath audibly wisps away from you.

Suddenly she’s not just looking at you through the safety of the glass; suddenly she’s toeing the line you’d both drawn in the sand, eyes boring into yours in a way that makes your tongue tie and your heart twist.

Her hand splits from yours just for a second, long enough for you to miss the warmth of it like it’s the only tether to earth you have, but not for too long. Because she’s spinning in her chair to face you, hands meeting yours where they’re hanging stupidly in the air where she left them, and you wish she hadn’t smiled at you like that meant something to her, because you’re already having a hard time breathing.

“You keep biting your lips like that and they’re gonna be rough,” she warns you, but the words pass through that private smile of hers and every breath feels like wildfire in your lungs.

“Why’s it matter?” you ask her, quiet as you purse them, tongue darting out to wet the parts that feel horribly dry. Ignoring the way her eyes follow the peek of it; the way her head tilts and the hair you’d left out the braid curling over her shoulder.

“It’s gonna feel real weird when you’re making out with someone,” she scoffs, like she’s saying it sincerely and sarcastically at once. You want her to eat your lungs for it. “Like rubbing your lips on velcro.”

“And you’d know what that feels like?” You joke back, managing to scrounge together some bite in your bark, even as her grin turns smug and dopey.

“I’d know if you let me kiss you.” She says, the words quiet like the volume itself could deter the way it shattered the air. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish suffocating, your throat dry and blood pounding in your ears. She barrels on, “For practice, too, seeing as you’ve never made out with anyone.”

The way she’s saying it sounds casual, but her hands are shaking as they gently squeeze yours, and somehow it doesn’t sound like she just wants to practice. Somehow, it makes you feel like two cowards toeing the line.

But then her smile softens, voice dropping into the low quiet that it does when she gets you in the late nights, exhausted and intimate like nothing else matters but you two together, “We don’t have to, really, I was just—“

“I want to,” you cut in, blinking like it’s the first time you’ve done it when her eyes widen just a smidge, “Or— yeah, I want…to.”

Then there’s that smile slowly pulling in again, her lips curling into a soft smirk that has your breath shallow and blood running in your ears. “Ok.”

Her hands slide from yours to your hips, fingers trembling as she slides them up to your waist, dipping under the hem of your shirt.

“D’you wanna get on my lap?” She asks gently, looking up at you like she’s stepped onto the stage to worship you. Like you’ve gone from a performance to an idol; like she’d kiss every inch of you if you asked. You’re straddling her lap before you can even begin to realise how much your blood is boiling.

———

There’s something about the way kissing Eve is like dunking your head in water to see how long you can last; with the way you don’t want to pull up, even as your lungs start to burn and your body begs for you to breathe. Her hands splay over your sides, under your shirt, palms warm and flat against your skin and fingers digging into your sides, under your arms. Tongue tasting you like you’re her first communion. Like she’s been starving for all her life. Living up to her namesake, with you being her apple of temptation.

From here, her lipgloss tastes less like dragonfruit and mint and more like heaven born sin. Horrible in the way you can’t help but keep wanting and wanting. Even if it might damn you to death the way you can’t breathe.

But still, you both have to pull away, and it’s a painful thing with the want coiling like a snake in your gut, taut and boiling. She’s looking at you like you damned her; like you saved her from it too, as her hands slide up and down your sides— just once— and make you shiver.

“Yeah,” she hums, like her breath’s not shaking either and her lips aren’t red and ruined; smiling like she’s won, “velcro.”

And you’re drowning in your want, swallowing your spit and tasting her in it as her hand comes up to cup your face. Her thumb runs over your bottom lip, your entire body begging you to ask her to let you drown in her waters until your lungs give out.

But you don’t beg when you open your aching mouth. “Fuck off.”

And she grins at you for it.

A/N: I wrote this immediately after work, like otw home and at home, and then made my banners. Passing out as I write this I’ll publish it when I wake 😭 like the first part, I wrote this with the intent of wlw/nblw but whatever floats your boat sailor

Ok this second part I’m not as sleepy writing it but yeah, this entire like… sequel of sorts was in fact directly inspired by a conversation @sobbingscripter and I had and I was like “Wait… I could write this” after she said something and voila! so this is dedicated to her 🙂‍↕️

Truly, the wonders of getting my shift taken and knowing I have a day off (people will drag me into tasks and hangouts and I will have no time to myself 😞)

[rooatgumpoint]

Perfect cleared every song in the affection system! Frederick you are now legally required to return to the manor.

[riddlesrose]

kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

part two!

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair. 

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now. 

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.” 

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm. 

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force. 

“i just had this ironed!” you frown. 

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face. 

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself. 

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly. 

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.” 

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm. 

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend. 

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant. 

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin. 

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side. 

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to. 

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time. 

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips. 

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes. 

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger. 

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released. 

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!) 

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction. 

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead. 

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head. 

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden. 

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?” 

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him. 

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most. 

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out. 

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him. 

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly. 

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you. 

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin. 

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails. 

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality. 

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop. 

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine. 

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter. 

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses. 

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining. 

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind. 

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath. 

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do. 

you cup his cheek, “malleus?” 

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.” 

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?” 

“yes.” 

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face. 

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?” 

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.” 

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

[heegyukeluv]

can't take it? (enha's hyung line) 

enha's hyung line when reader has high stamina and can go multiple rounds.

pairing: hyung line x afab!reader

my's note: unironically just thought about it and wrote it lol

warnings: established relationship, pet names (baby, darling, babe, angel, pretty) SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, implied unprotected sex (please, don't!!!), implied multiple orgasms, cowgirl, dirty talk, overstimulation (both), oral (f. receiving), fingering, lowkey nipple play, choking, belly bulge kink(?), they cum inside. lmk if i missed something!!!

wc (total): 1.8k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers

Heeseung would see it as a challenge and force himself through it even though he's teetering on the edge of giving up.

“F–Fuck, Hee…” You cried out, your body jolting, exposed breasts moving up and down to your boyfriend’s hard and deep thrusts inside your dripping cunt.

You didn’t know exactly what to do with your hands as the overwhelming feeling grew in your lower stomach, indicating your second climax coming. Torn in between kneading your boobs and rubbing your own clit, you tried to give the best view to Heeseung.

But he wore an expression of intense focus, as if his sole purpose in life was to make you cum uncountable times. And to some extent, it was. His fingers were deep in your hips, holding you still as he just kept going, eyes focused on where you both encountered.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Heeseung didn’t care about overstimulating you – or himself. No, definitely not. So when you announced you had your orgasm, he continued on thrusting hard, fast, deep, tirelessly hitting your g-spot with his sensitive tip, since he had already cummed two times as well.

“S’too much–” You mumbled, shaking your head, squirming under the pressure he held to keep you stay as possible. “Too– Much–Ah, fuck, Hee–”

“Take it.” He managed to say, voice hoarse, low, determined, though his body was starting to betray his primal will.

The slapping sounds flooded the room as a lascivious, beautiful symphony. Heeseung looked up to catch a glimpse of hooded eyes and fucked out expression. He smirked, feeling proud of himself for leading you to the edge of insanity. 

Your nails scraped down his back when he leaned closer, slotting perfectly in between your legs that wrapped around his waist, leaving red trails as you clawed at him for any sort of grounding.

“Hee, I c-can’t–!” Your protest dissolved into a broken moan when his thumb found your overstimulated clit, circling it in unwavering motions.

Heeseung’s warm mouth found place on your hardened nipples, playing with them by swirling his tongue around it and sucking just slightly, his pace never lacking, giving you an overwhelming experience of stimulus; you felt Heeseung everywhere. 

You winced, skin tingling in despair as you cried beneath him, a complete whining mess. You were loving each second, head spinning and your chest pounding strongly; your tongue quickly swept on the corner your lips to clean your light drooling and consequently tasted the salty taste of your tears.

Heeseung trailed his hot muscle up to kiss you, a hint of a victorious grin gracing his lips as he watched you lose yourself before him. His only objective was to tire you and win that fucking stupid inner challenge. 

“You wanted it,” he groaned, close to your ear. You whimpered, feeling another wave of pleasure crossing you. “Fucking take it.”

Jay would politely ask for a break ever once and a while, falling on the bed, panting, struggling to find words in between heavy breaths.

“Oh, fuck,” Jay grunted, his body trembling slightly, thighs burning after rolling his hips in an admirable constancy.

He had cummed one time already with you positioned in all fours, but he could feel his second orgasm just as close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” he chanted, jaw clenching, his digits pressing your sides with a strength that got you clenching harder, knowing it would leave marks. You loved to be marked by Jay.

Under Jay’s sight, you looked extra gorgeous with your face down and ass up, rocking back and forth within each pound, moans getting lost in between the lewd slapping sounds. You could feel his balls smacking against your pussy, sending vibrations straight to your clit and a rush of delight towards your core.

“Jay!” You nearly screamed, but your voice got lost in the pillow you had buried your face. 

Still, your mouth fell open, the tears in the corner of your closed eyes smearing your makeup and staining the pillowcase, your hands fisting the bed as you whined Jay’s name.

Soon after, you felt his warm liquid filling you up again, your own release mixing with it and making a mess. 

Jay pumped a few more times to ride you in your high before dropping himself by your side, panting hard, body still weak due to the effort of pleasing you. He had his eyes fluttered close as he tried to regain his composure, air difficulty making its way down his burning lungs. He felt his throat dry and groaned when you turned his body upwards. 

“Just… A sec… Please… Darling…” He said in between ragged breaths and you giggled, grabbing the bottle of water on the nightstand and handing it to him, watching his neck moving as he drank on it.

After he finished and you drank a bit yourself, you shot him a glance. He quivered, eyes widening a little. 

“Want more,” you mumbled, straddling on the bed just to position yourself on top of him. “But don’t worry, I’ve got you,” and with a wink and a smirk mischievously dancing on your lips, you aligned Jay’s softened dick on your folds, starting to grind back and forth.

All he could do was to rest his hands on your hips and pray not to pass out.

Jake would be so tired after the first round but he mastered the art of making you cum with his tongue and fingers a few times before fucking you.

The slurping sounds echoed through the room as lascivious as the wet noises of Jake’s fingers. He was switching in between fucking you with his tongue and with his slender digits, the same ones that would curl on the exact shape to hit your sensitive spot.

You had no idea of how much you have cummed, your cries entering Jake’s ears deliciously and traveling all the way down to his leaking cock. 

He was so fucking turned on by your pretty sounds and your body searching for his own, searching for pleasure on his mouth and fingers. He could spend hours with his head buried between your legs; the pressure of your thighs against it was too good to dismiss, the sweet taste of your pussy melting on his palatar was addictive. 

Jake loved how high your libido was, nearly matching his own. However, he would be extra tired after having his orgasm, so he just learned how to get yourself done until he finished fucking you deep and hard.

“God, Jake– Your fingers– So good–” You threw your head on the pillow as your back arched, your hips grinding on his face and hands shamelessly. 

“Like my fingers, babe?” He asked within a grin, trying to ignore his aching dick screaming for some friction. 

Jake didn’t want to rut on the mattress, because he had a job to do and it was to fill you up with his seed after eating you out for who knows how long. His hands were messy with your juice, just like the sheets beneath you two. He couldn’t care less.

To have you, screaming his name just with his fingers and tongue was satisfying at most for him to worry about bed clothing. 

You nodded, lost into the blissful desire Jake provided so perfectly. You jolted forward when you felt his lips sucking on your clit, his fingers now far gone from your pulsing hole as he licked your folds, lapping his tongue with precision, nearly making out with your cunt.

“Cumming–” You whispered with a broken voice, just to scream after; the grip on Jake’s locks tightening, eliciting a moan from him. 

He chuckled, drinking from your arousal just like it was his favorite drink.

“Give me one more and then I fuck you with my cock, yeah?”

Sunghoon would match your energy. If you can go for a whole fucking night, so does he. 

“Yeah, ride my fucking dick, baby,” Sunghoon moaned, brows furrowing with how warm and wet you were around him, swallowing every centimeter of his shaft.

You were on top of him, bouncing, riding, doing anything that gave you the euphoria of being fulfilled. Both emotionally and physically. 

Sunghoon definitely loved you, and the biggest proof was when he started doing gym just to match your stamina in bed, now able to follow you throughout the whole night without tiring too much. He could do it just fine before, but he wanted to be sure he was giving you the best. Always.

“Fucking shit, so good,” he bit his lip, smirking, admiring the view of your boobs jumping as you tried new ways to pleasure yourself, his eyes wandering each curve of your body. You felt his dick throbbing inside you. “My baby is so good, feels so good,” he said in between moans as his hands gripped your hips to help you.

You decided to grind back and forth, the last two orgasms helping to ease the movements; your lips were parted chanting Sunghoon’s name like a beautiful, addictive mantra. 

He could feel how you started to squeeze his dick in no time, his finger sliding towards your clit to give just enough of friction. 

“I love your cock–” You slurred, drunk in Sunghoon’s scent getting all over you. The feeling of his hard length nearly destroying you inside was too good not to vocalize. “Love it so fucking much– So big, so deep– Mhm…” You sounded… delighted, as if you were experiencing the best sensation of your life – and you were. 

Your exposed neck as you threw your head back invited Sunghoon's long fingers to wrap around it gently, just to give a light press that interrupted your airways to work properly for a few seconds. Your mind entered a haze of ecstasy, one that got you accelerating your riding almost instantly and seeking for your release as soon as possible.

The coil in your stomach tightened, and at some point you started to notice you could feel Sunghoon’s dick in there as well. One of your hands gave away the support you found on his chest just to press your belly, provoking Sunghoon’s hips to buck forward as he felt the slight pressure. 

“F–Fuck,” he stammered, letting go from your neck and clit to hold you still on top of him, starting to thrust frantically. “Cum for me, angel– Cum with me.”

As if a command, your moans increased the volume, so did Sunghoon’s thrusts, until you came all over his body, your juices mixed with his seed coating his dick and part of his stomach.

He gave you nearly seconds to recompose, maneuvering your body to lay back on the bed. You both smirked, because you knew what was coming. 

“We’re in for a long night, pretty.”

[leclerc-hs]

safety first - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you always had a thing for oscar in his helmet OR oscar fucks you with his helmet on.... warnings: smut smut smut, all smut, p in v, dirty talk, language, filthy, hot hot hot, thigh riding, slight degradation, NOT PROOFREAD! word count: ~1.4k author's note: hiiiii sorry if its a little too short for y'all. my brain is just like mush after this past week being so busy so this was all I could come up with at the moment! I hope y'all like it tho!!! xoxo

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

You never expected him to keep it on.

But when he walked into the room still suited up, the neon helmet covering every inch of his face, your mouth goes dry.

And you’re already lying back, thighs spread and waiting. You should be embarrassed. Should say something sassy. But he kneels at the edge of the bed, gloved hand around his cock. Hard and leaking.

And you swear your brain short circuits. 

And then he’s there.

Head tilted, pulling you up. Sits back against the headboard and shifts you until you’re straddling his thigh.

The suit is hot against your skin. A little rougher than you’d expect.

“Don’t make me say it,” He grunts.

And you whimper, grinding down against him without thinking. Slick dripping onto the fabric.

“Yeah,” He groans, head falling back, neck flushed. “Just like that.”

Your clit drags along the curve of his leg. You moan. Over and over. Until your entire body is rocking, chasing the friction.

“Y’that fuckin needy for me, aren’t you?” He teases. “Gonna come from this?”

He taps the side of his helmet with two fingers. Nods.

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“You’re coming from it.” His hands flex around your hips. “Thank it.”

Your body clenches. And you lean forward, pressing your lips against the glossy shell.

And you keep grinding. Keep kissing. Until his hands are hauling you up, flipping you over to your back and he’s hovering over you.

His cock already pressed between your thighs when he says it.

“Say it.”

And the helmet dips closer. The Monster logo smearing across you like a brand.

His voice crackles. Voice low through the helmet, gloved hand tightening under your knee as he shoves your legs open wider. There’s a slight rasp in his tone. As if he’s fighting to stay composed.

And you’re soaked. Slick leaking out of you, smearing against him as he slowly drags his cock through your folds.

He hasn’t even fucked you yet. Not properly at least.

You gasp. “Fuck, Osc…”

“No.” He grunts. “Say it.”

You bite your lip and his hips thrust forward just a little bit. Just enough for the tip of his cock to push into your cunt. And your moan breaks out before you can stop it.

He grinds in slow. Teasing. 

The helmet visor catches the bedroom light, flashing your reflection back at you. Eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, body twitching from nothing but the way he’s holding you there.

Glossy black streaked with wild reds, greens, and blues wrapped around. And it’s all too bright for what he’s doing to you. 

The visor’s pitch black and you can’t see anything behind it. Can’t see his eyes. Can’t see his expression. Just your own ruined reflection looking back at you.

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize every twitch.

“Say what?” You whisper.

“That you’re soaking the fuckin’ sheets because I’m still in this stupid fucking helmet.”

Your back arches off the bed.

“Say it or I don’t fuck you.”

You clench around nothing. Skin burning. “I’m..fuck…Osc. I’m soaked. Because of it.”

“Because of what?” He presses on.

You whimper. Frustration bubbling up inside of you. “Because you’re still in the helmet. Because I can’t see your face and I…..I don’t care. I just need you to fuck me please.”

His groan muffles through the speaker. “That’s my girl.”

And then he pushes in. Splits you open.

Inch by inch until you’re full. Stretched around him. His cock stuffed inside of you. 

You cry out, nails digging into his skin. And he doesn’t pull back. Just stays buried inside of you, his helmet brushing your cheek.

“So fuckin’ tight. Y’love this, yeah?” 

You nod frantically. One arm clutching at the back of his fireproofs, the other gripping the pillow beside you.

“Bet if I came home like this every night, you’d drop to all fours before I even said a word.”

He pulls out halfway and then slams back into you. 

“Bet you’d let me bend you over the table in a full kit. Still suited up. Not saying a word.”

And you choke on a moan. Air knocking out of your lungs. And he doesn’t even flinch.

He’s still steady. Calm. Still in the fucking helmet.

“So sensitive,” He mutters. “I’ve barely started.”

Your nails dig into the fabric, clinging. Trembling.

“What? Just the tip and you’re melting on me like that?” He mutters. “Y'make it too easy.”

He thrusts in again. Brutal. Sharp.

And he hums, like he’s thinking.

“This thing must really fuck with your brain.” He says. “The helmet. Can’t even see me, and you’re still making those noises like some whore.”

He pulls back again. Slower. Deliberate. Your cunt tightening around nothing.

Body twitching. Aching.

And he just stays there. Tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

The silence makes you whimper. The denial makes you ache.

And Oscar…he stays completely still.

“Y’want it that bad?” His voice is lazy. Cruel in the calmest way. “God.” He lets out a sharp laugh.

You nod. Frantically. “Please…”

He clicks his tongue behind the visor.

“Y’hear that?” He mutters. “The sound your cunt makes every time I even think about shoving into you?”

You sob his name out, begging. Pleading.

“Need me to fuck you?” He grunts. “Need to be used by a helmet and a voice and my cock?”

He hisses softly at the movement of your hips. And then finally pushes back in. All the way.

He fucks into you deep. Bottoming out. 

“Fuck…listen to that,” He groans. “Can barely move. So fuckin’ tight.”

He pulls out just a bit, and then sinks back in hard. 

“That’s it,” He grunts. “Take it.”

And you do.

Mouth slack, head tipped back, clenching around him. And he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speed up either. 

Just fucks you through it. Lazily. Like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Y’gonna come?” His voice is heavy. Hushed. “Gonna soak me from this?”

And you sob out. Nodding.

You choke on a moan. “M’gonna come, Osc….fuck..I’m gonna..”

“Yeah,” He cuts you off. “Fuckin come for me.”

And you do.

It hits hard. Convulsing around him, vision blurred, skin hot as he fucks you through it. Hips snapping harder into you. Finally losing that lazy rhythm he had.

He buries himself so deep into you that you feel everything. His orgasm hitting him only moments later. Spilling into you with low curses as his helmet rests against you. 

And he’s still buried inside of you. But he’s breathing too hard now.

“Fuck…” he mutters. “Fuck…I can’t…”

You blink up at him. Dazed.

“Need it off.” His voice is urgent.

And then he’s moving frantically with one hand. Shoving the helmet strap free. Fumbling with it.

The helmet slips to the floor with a thud. And suddenly his face is there. Flushed. Sweaty. Eyes blown wide. Desperate.

And he kisses you like he’s starving.

Tongue pushing past your lips like he couldn’t get deep enough. Fingers shaking as he threads them through your hair.

“Couldn’t breathe in there,” he mutters. Bringing his lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, your nose. “Fuck…wanted to kiss you so bad.”

You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. Shivering. Still full. Legs wrapped around his waist.

“Y’didn’t sound like you were losing it…” You whisper.

And he lets out a breathy laugh. Wrecked. “Yeah? Felt like my brain was mush in there.”

He thrusts forward once, slow. Deep. And your body twitches.

His hips move again. Another long stroke. Not hard. Just deep. 

“Y’gonna keep me in all night, hm?” His teeth graze your jaw. “Just let me fuck into you all night?”

You lift your hips into his next thrust. Moaning.

He groans. Kisses you again. Lazily.

“Good.” He glances at the helmet for a brief second. A sinister look on his face.

His lips brush against your ear. Hot.

“Y’gonna wear it next time.” He states.

And your brows raise. “What?”

“The helmet,��� He grins. Voice rough with need. “Wanna see you fall apart with that fuckin’ thing on. Wanna see you ride me.”

Your breath catches.

And he hums. Like he’s already imagining it.

“Bet you’d be all shy until I stuffed you full. Grinding down on me like some fuckin’ addict.” He teases.

And he laughs. Kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Next time, baby.” He says. Dragging his thumb against your lip. “Next time.”

taglist: @dfinchr @1-of-my-many-obsessions @saintlaurentcowgirls @hannainchains @landscar @rabittscar @ayap4paya @8junejpg1 @strawberrylov-er @olivialup @bigcatharmony @ninjambrich @skylyn-vais @Ellie-bellie-29 @s-luv183 @angelique-rose-valentine @megatrilss1885 @princesspiastri007 @ezumama @madicecream123 @ysavelelelel @margaritad1 @canyouseethesainz @marladelrey @number-0-iz @mollybxrn @saturnizma @angzedxtz (i think that's everyone that commented) xoxo

[psychoticbipolarbear]

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You're nothing more but his best friend. Until he kisses you on a night out.

“I’m just saying, you’re being a dick,” you note casually, pointing out something you wonder if he’s been aware of regarding the situation he’s in.

You can hear his sigh through the headphones, the sound loud and clear despite the thousands of miles that’s between the two of you. When you glance at the screen on your side to check his camera feed, you can see him staring at you through it with an annoyed look on his face.

His livestream is about to begin, yet here he is, listening to you rambling about how stupid he’s been when his girlfriend suggested moving into his place. But how could you not scold him when he instantly brushed off the idea? 

They’ve been together for a bit over a year, as far as you know he loves her, but now that he’s talking about her, his voice lacks emotions, as if he was talking about a one-night stand, someone who means very little to him—if she means anything at all.

So, how could you expect him to be honest with her when he can’t even be honest with his best friend?

“Oh, fuck it,” he suddenly says, his voice now sounding a lot more emotional, full of anger you didn’t even know was lurking beneath the surface.

“What?”

He looks away, staring at the screen ahead of him, but you can almost hear the gears turning inside his head. “She doesn’t even like me anymore, but she wants to stay because I’m one of the top drivers in F1,” he explains, spitting out the words with so much hatred you’re honestly getting a little scared.

This confession leaves you temporarily speechless, because you sure as hell didn’t expect him to drop such a bomb onto this conversation. Before you could say anything, he rage quits and you follow him without a question so you can focus on whatever he has to get off his chest.

“I overheard a conversation she had with a friend over the phone the other day. I got home earlier, and she didn’t notice I was there, so she kept talking, and then suddenly she went, ‘It feels like I’m dating a teenager who lives in front of his gaming rig while drinking dozens of cans of Red Bull. He’s lucky he’s a successful F1 driver, otherwise I would have already kicked him out.’ How could I stay with her after this, huh?”

Now you get it, and you feel your own anger rise as the seconds pass. “Okay, you’re right, she needs to go,” you agree, although you want to go on and say something about her that wouldn’t be very ladylike. 

He knows. Max always knows what’s on your mind, as if there was a radar in his brain that can help him clock you, even over the computer screen. “You know, I kinda envy you,” he suddenly speaks up, surprising you. “I couldn’t bite my tongue like you can. I mean, if I said the things that are probably on your mind now, I would be banned from F1 for the rest of the season,” he jokes. 

To be fair, he’s right, he would never be able to hold back and lie, so right now you’re sure he’s not even that mad at his girlfriend. Well, at his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. 

“So, what now?”

A thoughtful hum fills your ears. “I already packed her shit. Damn, I didn’t even notice how many things she had in my apartment,” he adds with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, she’ll come over today as if nothing happened, and then I’ll point at the boxes. Go wherever the fuck you want, the door’s that way. Or something like that.”

“Good,” you agree with the plan.

Silence falls between the two of you—a nice, comfortable one that you’re used to after the decade you’ve been friends for. You were a VIP with your dad at one of the races, and that’s how you met him in the paddock when he was still a rookie. This idiot tried—and failed—to flirt with you, but that strange mixture of awkwardness and arrogance made you realize that maybe you could be friends at least. 

And then, out of nowhere, his face lights up. “Oh, you need to join me for the tripe-header. You know what? I’ll send my jet to pick you up right now,” he says excitedly. “It’s gonna be like back in the day during your school breaks.”

“I have to work,” you point out. 

Max rolls his eyes at this. “Unpaid leave. I’ll give you your salary in return—not like you need it,” he adds with a cheeky grin. 

You snort. “Unlike you, I’m not a tax-evading billionaire.”

“You’re old money, sweetheart. Alright, I have a livestream coming up, and I’m already a few minutes late, but I want to make a quick call before that to schedule my jet for you. I’ll send you the details. Bye.”

“Max, I didn’t say,” you begin, but he quits before you finish the sentence. 

As you are sitting on the jet, you can’t help but wonder why you have a bad feeling about this trip. It’s like an upcoming storm you can feel in your bones. 

Max is waiting for you at the airport, just like he always does, and when you wave at him through the window, you don’t miss the wide, happy smile that’s plastered on his face. He certainly doesn’t look like a guy who’s just broken up with his girlfriend, but you don’t mind that you’re not going to spend the next weeks in the company of an annoying version of him. 

You’ve seen him after bad breakups and it wasn’t funny. This post breakup Max? This one you actually like. 

“We’re gonna have so much fun together,” he says as a greeting.

With a questioning hum, you watch as he wraps his long fingers around the handle of your suitcase. “Is that a threat? It did sound like a threat.”

“Why didn’t you say, ‘Don’t threaten me with a good time?’ It would have been much funnier.”

“Don’t push your luck. Be happy I’m here.”

Max throws his head back as he laughs, then opens his car with a shake of his head. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know traveling to Monaco on a private jet, then going from one country to another in the following weeks was such a terrible thing to do,” he says as he puts the suitcase in the trunk.

“I already told you, I have a job to focus on. There’s this upcoming project that—”

“BOOOO! You workaholic,” he adds with a laugh before signaling you to get in the passenger seat. 

Without hesitation, you punch his upper arm, a move that draws another laugh out of him. “Says the one who races both IRL and online.”

“And here I was, thinking you handled the breakup well.”

The two of you are standing outside his favorite Monaco club, with him leaning against the side of his car that will be driven to his home by a chauffeur service once they get here. Until then you need to babysit him, the kind of pathetic drunken Max that you haven’t seen in years. 

He lets out a long, loud sigh, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, then wraps his arms around your neck as he leans against you, burying his face into your shoulder. “You’re the only woman in my life who loves me despite everything. The only one who’s not a relative, that is,” he mumbles against your shirt. 

You don’t even think when you run a hand through his dirty blond hair in a soothing manner, a gesture that wasn’t unusual between the two of you. But this time it prompts him to do something he has never done before—he kisses you. 

This is the first time it happens, and it surprises you so much that you instinctively return it at first. 

It seemed like his stupid little crush on you disappeared shortly after you became friends, but now you can feel something, like long-repressed feelings were coming to the surface. You can’t say up don’t like it, because you do, but being the relatively sober one, you know you can’t let this happen.

“Max,” you say quietly as you push him away a little. 

But he doesn’t seem to hear you, or even notice that you broke the kiss to make him focus on what you have to say, because he dives back in to kiss you again.

“You taste like strawberry,” he notes with a chuckle.

Sure you do, your cocktail was full of it after all. When he leans in again, you move out of the way and place a hand under his chin to make him focus. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“Because we can’t,” you respond.

Max doesn’t seem to understand. Maybe he’s too used to the idea of always getting what he wants, maybe he’s just a drunk, lovesick puppy. Whatever’s the case, you know you have to put an end to this before things get out of hand.

“You’re my best friend, and—”

“Aww, you’re my best friend too!”

“Dude, focus,” you say with a tiny little bite to your voice. “The chauffeur can be here any second, pull yourself together. I’m sure you don’t want articles about your drunken state.”

He suddenly starts giggling as he shrugs theatrically. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he points out, then leans forward again, trying to capture your lips as if he was some infected from The Last of Us. 

A car parks on the other side of the street, and a man gets out of the passenger seat to walk up to the two of you. Since Max still doesn’t seem to behave, you kick his leg, and finally he stops whatever he’s doing. 

“Huh? What?”

You motion towards the driver with your head. “Get in the backseat,” you order. 

“As you wish, milady,” he says with a Cheshire Cat grin. 

“Idiot,” you say with a sigh.

The next morning you sit on a barstool in the kitchen, one hand wrapped around the warm mug, the other patting Donut’s head as you read a longer post on your phone. It’s a peaceful morning, although your mind keeps returning to the kiss. 

There are photos and videos online, the rumor mill is working full time, and you’re not that sure about the triple-header anymore. If you join him when so many people believe you’re his girlfriend, showing up in the paddock would only confirm the theories. 

“Morning,” you hear Max’s voice from behind, and it’s laced with a yawn that he can’t fight back. 

Before you turn to look at him, you gulp and quickly try to think about what to say. Does he even remember what happened? Does he know what kind of shitstorm you’re in? 

Donut jumps off from your lap, probably sensing the upcoming fight between the two of you. The funny thing is, you’re not mad, not really. You’re just annoyed that you managed to convince the world that you’re not dating, but now they have something to point at when they bring up a secret relationship.

You watch as your friend rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms, then lets out a sigh and rests his forearms on the counter across from you. “I saw the posts. I’m sorry,” he say seriously, the drowsiness seemingly nowhere to be found. 

With a nod, you raise your mug and take a sip of your coffee.

“I guess you’re thinking about not coming with me.”

“Yeah, maybe that would be for the best.”

Scoffing, Max rolls his eyes. “That’s what they want. They want you to run and hide. Don’t let them win.”

There are so many things you want to say, but your brain can’t put a proper sentence together. 

Lucky for you, your best friend knows exactly how to put what’s on his mind into words. “Listen, that kiss… It doesn’t have to mean anything, but…”

“But?”

A beat of silence. “Nothing. You want breakfast?”

After shaking your head, you empty your mug and put it in the dishwasher. Your hunger vanished the moment you saw the messages from friends and family, all asking why didn’t you tell them.

Soon, the two of you begin to move in perfect sync in the kitchen, as if this was part of your daily routine. He made himself something to eat, while you prepared the cats’ healthy little snacks for the day.

But deep down you couldn’t stop thinking about that little, inevitable but.

Finding out Charles was now Max’s neighbor after moving into his new home didn’t surprise you at all. Despite not making a big deal out of their friendship, you knew they often hung out together in their limited free time.

Tonight the two of you bumped into the Monegasque in the elevator, and your best friend immediately forgot that you existed as he stepped out of the elevator on the wrong floor just to continue the conversation.

“Max, I don’t have keys to your place,” you call after him once you stopped the elevator.

He turns around with a questioning hum, then—after a short pause—his eyes go wide. “Shit, sorry. Why don’t you come over?” he asks the fellow driver. 

Rolling your eyes, you step back into the depths of the elevator, then press the button to close the door. In the last second, you see the confusion on their faces, but you can’t care about that.

What you don’t understand, though, is why you feel disappointed that he asked Charles to come over. He’s a friend. Another friend. A male friend. He’s no competition.

Then again, why do you keep considering everyone he’s on good terms with that?

The day before Max is supposed to travel to Japan for the first triple-header race, you decide to do a little shopping in your favorite boutique that’s hidden from the prying eyes of tourists.

What you don’t except to see is Charles, going through a rack of clothes, searching for something that catches his eyes. Occasionally, he asks for the opinion of a woman who looks to be in her thirties, but you can’t quite understand what they say.

Not like you care. 

You go back to your own quest to find the perfect dress to a party you’ve been invited to, but sadly, mere minutes later, you hear the Ferrari driver’s unmistakable voice from your side.

“Didn’t think I’d find someone who’s not a local here,” he says with a smile.

“Hey. Looking for a gift for Alex?”

He smiles, and it’s the kind of fond smile only someone with a deeper connection to him could deserve. “Nope, it’s for my mom.”

Nodding, you pick a dark green dress to take a look at it. It’s nice. A little different in style than what you usually wear.

Even without looking, even without hearing a sound coming Charles, you can tell he has a look of disapproval on his face. 

“What?”

“Royal blue suits you better. Trust me.”

When you turn to him with a questioning look, he holds up a dress he’s been apparently hiding behind his back. It’s beautiful, really, but you’re not sure about it.

“It’s not as fancy as the one I need,” you point out as you return your attention to the clothes. 

He sighs. “It’s been approved for the party you’re going to.”

“Approved by who?”

“Max.”

“Max is going to the triple-header, I’ll be in Copenhagen to meet a friend,” you say with a shrug.

This seems to surprise the Monegasque who immediately glances down at his phone. “I don’t understand, he just texted me that he’s taking you to some restaurant in–Wait, you really don’t want to go with him.”

You let out a long sigh at this. Great, now you know these two are talking about you behind your back. With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair. “Look, I just don’t want rumors. I’m sure you know what happened the other day, so no wonder I think this would be for the best.”

But Charles immediately shakes his head. “No, no, no. You have to attend the races, especially now. His fans adore you, and Max—” His voice suddenly fades away and you can see his eyes go wide when he realizes he was just about to say something he wasn’t supposed to. “Never mind.”

“Charles,” you growl. 

“Okay, okay. You didn’t hear this from me, but Max talks about you. A lot. Even while he was with his ex, I heard more about you then her. And that kiss meant a lot to him, even though he was drunk that night.”

If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s trying to tell you that your best friend probably thinks about you differently than you think about him. Although… what does seeing competition in everyone he interacts with means exactly?

Two hours later you arrive to your temporary home and realize it’s empty. Three hours later you’re sitting on the couch with your suitcases neatly placed next to it. 

When Max gets home, he doesn’t even notice the suitcases at first, because the moment he sets foot in the living room, the words begin to flow out of his mouth as he begins his famous maxplaining session. He’s talking about his idea to get a dog, about how good it would be, and he even came up with name ideas that he doesn’t hesitate to share with you.

But then he suddenly stop mid-sentence. “Oh, good, you’re ready,” he says, motioning towards the objects on your side.

Of course he assumes you packed for the upcoming races. He doesn’t even take it into consideration that you maybe changed your mind about it. That maybe you don’t want to be involved in the mess he caused. 

Finally, he realizes the truth. “You’re not coming with me.” When you shake your head with an almost apologetic smile, he sits down next to you. “Listen, I know these photos, and the rumors, and all that shit can be a lot to handle, but this isn’t the first time someone assumes we’re dating.”

“Charles didn’t warn you?”

“Warn me about what?”

You let out a long sigh and lean your head against the back of the couch. “He said this kiss wasn’t nothing to you,” you tell him quietly.

Max gulps and exhales sharply, probably cursing his friend in his mind for not being able to keep his mouth shut. Maybe it wasn’t fair to throw Charles to the lion, but he became collateral damage along the way.

“That’s something you don’t have to worry about.” 

And he means it, you can tell, but his voice is different now. Less certain. More cautious. 

How could you not worry, though? “Did it start now, or…?”

“What? Me catching feelings?” he asks, sounding a little confused. You nod, he leans back with a sigh. “When I asked you out after we met, and you pretty much told me to fuck off.”

“So all this time—” 

He flashes a small, sad smile at you. “I’ve been in love with you at the end of the day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? Max, if you told me, I could have… I don’t know, just…”

A smile. Small, reserved, maybe a little sad. “Tried to love me back? Leave me? What?” he asks, his voice rough but quiet.

Looking into those blue eyes turns out to be the biggest mistake you could make, because you’re instantly rendered speechless by them. You’re kinda used to being one of the few who can see this side of him, but now that he looks this defenseless, broken even, because of you makes it worse. 

What you’re saying next isn’t out of pity. It’s out of curiosity. 

“One date. One proper date.”

A dry laugh leaves his lips. “If this conversation wasn’t awkward already, I would probably kiss you again.”

[serosblunt]

Kiribaku x Reader: Miss You

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

Kiribaku x (Gender-neutral) reader

Warnings: Snippets of spicier content, pre-NSFW, 18+

Description: Bakugo's out of town on a mission, Ejiriou decides to text him late at night.

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

12:46am

The numbers stared at Eijiro, taunting him with every blink. It felt like there was never enough space in your enormous king-sized bed, but somehow, now that there wasn't an angry blonde on the other side of the mattress, it felt remarkably empty.

You were long since asleep, curled up and drooling on his chest before 11:30pm - despite your adamant denial that you 'do not drool'. You were tucked up against his side, Dynamight plushie firmly secured under your chin.

The sturdy hero thought it was the purest thing he'd ever seen, and it gave him a reason to text Katsuki so late. He knew under normal circumstances, the blond would kill him for being awake.

He doubted Kats would even be awake himself, but if he wasn't, at least he'd see Ejiro's text in the morning.

So he snapped a quick photo of the two of you, cringing at the brightness of the flash.

~ Red 🪨

Think someone's missing you

<image attached>

The responding message came through in seconds.

~ Blasty 💥

Can't believe we still have that stupid thing.

*image saved*

True enough, the limited edition plush had more than a few scorch marks on it. Evidence of Katsuki's previously attempted 'hits' on the doll.

Ejiro smiled to himself fondly.

~ Red 🪨

I think we'd both prefer it if it was the real Dynamight

~ Blasty 💥

Obviously.

Which in Bakugo language translated to 'Yeah, me too.'

You stirred slightly under your boyfriend's hold, and the red head made a mental note to type more quietly.

~ Red 🪨

How much longer do they think the assignment will take?

~ Blasty 💥

Fuckers keep giving me different answers. Hard to tell. If it’s not done by Friday I’m coming home anyway. 

Ejirou knew he very likely would. 

~ Blasty 💥

  It’s late. Go to sleep, shitty hair. 

~ Red 🪨

  Can’t sleep. Miss you

~ Blasty 💥

Miss you too, E, and the Gremlin.

He meant you. The nickname stuck after the first time you all slept over together and Katsuki discovered your 'unsavoury' sleeping habits; snoring and latching onto people. 

~ Red 🪨

<image attached>

This time it was Kirishima kissing your head gently, your face smooshed even further into his pec with the change in angle. He knew it was risky to use flash, but he was praying you’d stay asleep. 

  Wish you were here x

~ Blasty 💥

  *image saved*

Why’s Friday so fucking far away?

The typing bubble filled the empty silence for a few seconds before disappearing. Riot held back a chuckle, he was tell Katsuki was wrestling with admitting defeat his feelings.

You guys are cute. 

~ Red 🪨

  Naww thanks babe, you’re not so bad yourself ;)

~ Blasty 💥

  Don’t start shit, Ejiro. It's too late.

The red head felt suddenly cocky.

~ Red 🪨

  That a challenge?

~ Blasty 💥

Warning you, E.

The red head considered his options for less than half a second before rolling away ever so slightly so he could send his partner a more…scandalous photo.

Pointing the camera towards his chest, Ejirou made sure to get his pec in frame once more, only slightly hardened this time, knowing how much the explosive hero loved them- even if he would rather die before admitting to that.

A cheeky smile showed off his sharp teeth and tongue that hung teasingly out from between them. 

He winced at the flash once more, but decided his mission was worth it. Satisfied with himself, he pressed the send button as you stirred beside him. 

~ Red 🪨

<image attached>

“E…what’re y’doing?” You mumbled. 

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart. I was just texting Kats.”

“With flash on?” You grumbled, clearly unhappy with the hero beside you.

“I’m, ah….helping him out?”

“Oh. Can I see?”

~ Blasty 💥

<video attached>

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

[jimilter]

the ferrari guy | jjk.

You hire an assistant – and Jeon Jungkook loses his mind. Is that irrational of him? Not when the guy you’ve chosen flirts like a hooker, looks like a runway model and dresses like he’s Giorgio Armani himself. 

pairing: jungkook x reader rating: pg-15 genre: humor | fluff | chaebol!au | fwb!au | ceo!jungkook warnings: swearing + implied sex + jealousy + insecurity + a certain loml charming everyone’s pants off <3 word count: 3 k note:  helloooo fam! i am alive and still writing apparently lmao. jimilter is still a safe space, a wonderful escape from real life and i have no plans of quitting this in near or far future (: no comments on the occasional disappearances tho bec real life has been hectic af! anyways, enjoy this humorous lil drabble from jk's pov (set between part 3 & 4) while i work on the massive angst in part 5! <3

— masterlist | feedback!

↝ the damsel & her knight ⁘ 01 02 03 [3.5] 04 05

On Thursday evening, while leaving work, Jeon Jungkook finds a flashy, bright red Ferrari convertible blocking his car in the parking lot of his office. An office in a building his father owns. 

Needless to say, he is beyond mad.

"Who the heck even drives a Ferrari in our company?" he barks into the phone, scowling when his secretary gives an exasperated sigh.

"President ma'am interviewed some people today, sir. Maybe it's one of the candidate's cars?" 

"What kind of a douchy person comes to a job interview in a convertible?" Jungkook is still scowling at the vermillion vehicle when his brain catches up with the rest of the information Haeri imparted. His mouth dropping open, he raises his free hand up in front of his face, as if to stop time. "Hold on – did you say President ma'am?"

"Uh, yes, si—"

"She interviewed people? Why? What for?" he cuts his secretary off, frowning.

"She is hiring an assistant, sir."

"Wha—why does she need an assistant?"

Haeri is quiet for a while. Then she clears her throat. "I would suggest you to not ask her this, sir."

Jungkook sighs. Haeri is always so straightforward with him. Sometimes a bit too straightforward. But she’s always guiding him around making stupid decisions, and maybe that is why he's had her in his office for nearly two years now. The longest he’s had a secretary ever since he joined the company as the CEO. 

There’s also the fact that Haeri actually has a boyfriend and is immune to all of Jungkook’s charm… Not that he’s actually tried them on her, per se. He’s been otherwise occupied in that department for a while. Very happily and proudly so. 

Clearing his throat, "Yeah, sorry," he grumbles to the girl, turning around to eye the offensive car again. "I'm texting you the license plate number, will you make an announcement on Prez's floor?"

"Sir, I—"

"Good. Thanks, Haeri, you're a gem!"

Even as a security guard comes and removes the obstructing vehicle within minutes and Jungkook is free to leave, his mind doesn’t feel settled. At all. He isn’t sure what it is that irks him about you hiring an assistant, but it is something for sure. Maybe he fears you’d pay him even lesser attention at work than the scant amount you do now. Maybe he thinks you won’t need his help with the integrated Firewall-VPN project anymore. Maybe he… Well, he isn't sure.

But something about this just usettles him. Which is what has him texting you close to midnight, casually dropping his question without offending you with a ‘why’ just like Haeri instructed him to.

↪ hey prez ↪ heard you’re hiring an assistant?

Your reply comes exactly ninety-four seconds later. Yes, he counts.

You heard that in the middle of the night?

He bites his lip, rubbing his reddening cheeks against the cold cotton of his pillow in embarrassment, but doesn’t lose hope because you’re still typing.

I have actually already had the interviews today The guy joins tomorrow You wanna drop by with a welcome gift basket? :)

His glare stays fixed on the little, taunting smile for a long while, before it moves to the word ‘guy’ in your text. You’ve hired a guy assistant.

Jungkook wonders if the bile suddenly roiling in his stomach has any correlation with the explicit images his brain suddenly conjures up of you and a faceless male making out in your office.

God, he’s going insane.

The next morning, Jungkook is barging into Yoongi's office with a frown. "Prez hired an assistant."

Min Yoongi very slowly looks up from his computer screen, gaze wary. "Good morning to you too, Jeon. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

Jungkook ignores the man’s sarcasm and instead drops into one of the couches placed on one side of his office, groaning. “It’s a guy.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Head whipping up faster than the blink of an eye, Jungkook gapes at your Creative Director. “You have heard?”

Yoongi gives him a tired look. “My office is on the same floor as hers, Jeon. I have more than just heard.”

“Have you seen the guy?” he quickly rushes out, wide eyes boring into Yoongi’s disinterested ones.

“Met him. Kid’s jovial and efficient. She’s gonna love him.”

What? Jungkook stalks up to Yoongi’s table with a scowl. “Kid?”

“Oh, he’s probably older than you.”

“Jovial?”

“Yeah, always got a smile on his face; not a word out of his mouth without giggles.”

Giggles? Jungkook's pinky finger twitches in irritation because giggling is supposed to be his thing. How dare you.

“And he's really freaking efficient too, man." Yoongi continues when Jungkook has stayed quiet for too long. "He's got a typing speed of 96 wpm, can speak five languages, is capable of charming every guest with a grin and some sweet words—oh! And he’s quick on his feet! Delivered five coffees on two different floors with the steam still coming out of the cups.” Yoongi has a fond, dreamy look on his face, and if it wasn’t for the wedding band on his finger, Jungkook would have assumed the guy has fallen in love with your new assistant.

Which doesn’t sit well with Jungkook at all. Teeth gritted and fists clenched, he gazes out of the glass doors of Yoongi’s office to yours. 

You aren’t in, yet. Should he pay your oh-so-wonderful assistant a visit before you are?

You’d surely have his head if you catch him threatening the dude – not that he plans on it; he just feels like he might – but it’s a risk he is very much willing to take.

And so, over Yoongi’s protests, Jungkook marches out of the guy’s office and, crossing the long corridor, lands at yours.

There’s an additional table placed perpendicular to yours within the glass cabin and Jungkook wishes he had laser vision so he could incinerate the damn thing in its place. He looks around the office for the guy of the hour, grunting at the small trinkets he finds adorning the new table.

Who keeps a freaking potted plant on a desk? What if it fell off and died?

Jungkook doubts this guy is as efficient as Yoongi talked about him being. He chokes in the middle of the accompanying scoff, though, because his eyes suddenly locate, well, keys.

Sleek, black, no bigger than a matchbox, with a silver, galloping horse engraved on the obviously custom made leather surface. Keys to a Ferrari. What are the odds?

“Ma’am, you’re in earl—oh…”

Jungkook twists on heels at the voice, coming face to face with a guy that honestly doesn’t look much older than him despite what Yoongi said. His eyes are wide and lips rounded, brown hair brushed off his forehead to display the perfect arch to his thick eyebrows. He wears a – Jungkook hates to admit – gorgeously tailored dark brown suit that Jungkook knows to be Armani because he just made the same purchase a week back.

The guy, simply put, doesn't look assistant-material at all. He could be on Vogue's cover with those plump lips and shapely eyes of his. Or perhaps pose for swimsuit commercials with that bubble butt. Or walk the ramp for Armani, Patek Philippe or Chanel, given the brands Jungkook can spot on him.

But he isn't in any of those places – he is here, in your office, as your assistant.

“Good morning, sir!” he suddenly exclaims, and here’s the jollity Yoongi talked about. “You must be Mr. Jeon, the CEO?”

Jungkook gives him a jilted nod, hating the flawless mannerism the guy displays and the accompanying subconscious twitch his lips give in response, and inches back towards the door. “Um, yeah… I was just leaving…”

Your assistant’s smile falls and a concerned look overtakes his face. “But you just got here?”

And something about the innocent pout with which he looks at Jungkook has him rooted to the place. In wonder? Confusion? Shock?

Awe?

He can't freaking tell.

“I can get you some coffee, if you’d like? Everyone’s been telling me I brew a killer espresso!” He flashes a proud smile while Jungkook just helplessly gapes. “I can also get you some snacks? Sandwiches? Cookies? Ooh, would you like some pastries? Our office canteen has some amazing Danishes, would you like one? Ah, your forehead is all misty. Here!”

Before Jungkook can react, the guy is in his face with a tissue, dabbing the sweat away from Jungkook’s arched eyebrows. His smile is blinding, dear God, Jungkook cannot articulate a single word out of the storming confusion in his head. Since when do men have such pouty lips? 

When he steps back, he immediately gestures to a couch. “Make yourself comfortable, sir! May I lower the temperature? You still haven’t said what you need.”

Finally, finally able to collect his thoughts, Jungkook releases a long exhale. 

Who the actual fuck is this guy? A witch? A siren?

Jungkook needs to get out of here and he needs to talk to you.

“Uh, no, thank you, none of that. I, um, I’m good.” Quickly flashing the guy a tight lipped smile, Jungkook slips out of the doors. “I came to see Prez, but she's obviously not here, so… I’ll – I'llcome back later. Good day.”

Even as Jungkook immediately storms out of the office and rushes to the elevators to hurry back to his own floor, your assistant calls out a very happy sounding, “You have the best day, sir!”

Well-mannered, fashionable, charming in a very alarming way. Dude literally had him gaping for a whole minute with his head pretty damn empty. Jungkook's head is never empty.

This guy is so weird and… dangerous. Where did you find him?

And, in fact, why did he come here?

The guy's obviously rich, given all the brands he wears like second skin, so why the heck does he want to work as your assistant? In the same office as you?

Jungkook roughly swallows as the images he conjured last night make a return to his head – this time, with your assistant’s regrettably very handsome face on the previously faceless guy you were making out with. 

He wants to punch a wall.

What he does, instead, is shoot off a text to his secretary, telling her he isn’t feeling well and is going back home. And then another one to you, asking you to pay him a visit tonight. And possibly stay the night because he bought some extra alcohol.

He hasn’t, but the first stop he makes after leaving the office will be to pick up some expensive red wine.

Everytime Jungkook pulls out of you, spent and sweaty and satisfied, after the deed is done, he is left in disbelief. Every single time. Is this really happening? Are you really sleeping with him? Do you actually feel attracted to his body?

He is smart enough to not delude himself into thinking there's more to it, but it doesn't matter because whatever there is between you both is enough to astound him every time the two of you have sex.

Right now, as you sit with your back to him, pulling on his t-shirt over your bare frame – Jungkook's mind is caught onto something a little different than his usual daze of disbelief, though.

And even though he’s risking it by questioning the ‘why’ despite his secretary’s warnings, Jungkook can’t help it when he brings it up. "So… Hiring an assistant. Why so suddenly?"

You hum and give a noncommittal shrug. "I can't be in the office all the time. It's high time I hired one, don’t you think?"

Jungkook doesn’t think so. But he’d definitely be dead meat if he said it out loud. “Sure… What tasks will you give him?”

That earns him a confused look from you over your shoulder. “Do you wanna tell me something, Jeon?”

Wide-eyed, he gapes at you. “What?”

“Did something happen with Haeri? Is that why—”

“Oh, no,” he exhales, beyond relieved, then shakes his head with a smile when you continue to eye him suspiciously. “I just… Well. I’m always making Haeri pick up after me as if she’s a babysitter and not an office worker, you know? So I thought I could use some tips from you…”

You nod at that, turning back around to pull on your panties, and Jungkook breathes easier. He has sold his lie and you’ve bought it. “That’s actually thoughtful and mature of you. Where was this maturity when you had me running after you, though?” you grumble with a playful glare, and he just laughs. 

“It is because of all of that that I’ve finally learnt to be mature, Prez.”

Straightening after having covered your lower half, you inch back on the bed and rest your back against the headboard. “Well. To be fair, he has been running around for tiny errands for the two days he’s been here, so I can’t really lecture you, right now,” you admit. “But I wanted someone in the office for the meetings-season that is about to arrive as we near the launch, you know? Both you and I will be busy with the project. Poor Yoongi will need all the help he can get.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why doesn’t Yoongi hire an assistant then?”

You snort at that and gesture to the bottle of wine on the nightstand. “Why’re you pressed about it? You said you need tips, right?”

“Ah, yes, of course. I just want some tips.” Quickly catching his slip, Jungkook pours you a glass and settles next to you, bare, with the covers thrown across his lap for modesty. “So… will he be accompanying you to meetings, then? Or fill in for you while you’re busy with other stuff?”

“Well, initially he will shadow me for a week or so. And then when I get busy overseeing the launch event and coordinating with the Lims and other investors, he can switch between locations around the city to ensure everything is in order because Yoongi can’t be doing everything, you know?” You take a sip from your glass of wine and shrug a shoulder. “He’s our Creative Director, he needs to hold the fort while everyone runs around like headless chickens.”

Jungkook sips at his wine and musters a thin smile. Because yes, it definitely makes sense why you needed to hire an assistant. Speaking of, Yoongi probably needs one as well. 

Damn, when he used to work as a Software Analyst at a different company, he had no idea the executives of a company had so much to do. It always looks like an easy life looking in from the outside. But as CEO, he has come to learn that if someone in a higher up position makes a mistake, they initiate a dominoes’ fall all the way down.

“You met him, didn’t you?”

His surprised eyes fly to yours at the question. You’re looking at him with a smirk, and Jungkook’s heart gives a thump at how sexy you look. Your question, though, throws him off. "I… How did you—”

You roll your eyes. “He told me you came in to see me and then left. I checked in with Haeri and she said you weren’t feeling well.”

Wow. They both snitched on him. Just great.

And now you're looking at him with barely contained laughter as if you know how jealous he feels. Who is he kidding, of course you know how jealous he feels. You always know this kind of stuff, ugh.

“Don’t be getting insecure, Jeon, my assistant will remain only an assistant.”

He doesn’t know why you say that, but he appreciates it all the same. The twinkle in your eyes expresses playful adoration and the way it makes his heart race kinda scares him.

But then you lean in with an exaggerated kissy face to press a wet smooch on his mouth. When you pull away, he looks at you with a slight pout on his lips. You tilt your head to the side with a squint.

"What?"

"It's… Why did you pick the Ferrari guy?" Jungkook sounds a little whiny, but he can't help it.

You look at him over the rim of your glass, eyebrows nearing your hairline, amusement spilling from your gaze. "Uh, what's wrong with the Ferrari guy?"

"Nothing, of course, that's not what I meant," he tries to amend with a chuckle, but given the way you narrow your eyes at him before putting your glass away to cross your arms, you probably don't buy it. So he speaks on. "It's just that he doesn't look like an assistant, you know?"

"I… don’t actually. What does an assistant look like?"

Are you being purposely difficult or is Jungkook being completely weird? He's not exactly sure how to explain it better, but he's definitely sure that any other way would have been better than what comes out of his mouth next. "I mean, a bit… less… flirty, I guess?"

"What? What the hell did he do to you?"

He groans at your excited expressions. "Dude had me gaping at him for fifteen minutes while he talked about God knows what, because I couldn't focus on his words! I don't even like men like that!"

You give a loud snort and then break into loud peals of laughter. "Well, Jungkook, maybe you do! Maybe you just haven't had your awakening yet!"

"Not funny," he grunts, even as a humored smile slips on to his face at your loud giggles. "What did you say his name was, again?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, my dear Prez, what is your new assistant's name?"

"Park Jimin." Your smile turns goofy and eyes almost dreamy. "Pretty name for a pretty man. Right?"

He rolls his eyes at your suggestive wink, grumbling as he finishes his glass of wine in a large gulp.

You give a small sigh. "He's a nice guy, give him a chance. Heart of gold, or whatever they say."

Jungkook decides that he, for reasons way beyond his supposed homoerotic awakening, absolutely hates Park Jimin's guts. He's going to convince you to fire him. And soon.

© jimilter | 2024

[likeumeanit9497]

red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[retroaria]

⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

[sknyuz]

Hiii pookie!!♡♡ Do a Park Humin (Baku) ff where the reader wass playing shooting game on her phone and loses, throwing tantrums or curses over it and blaming it to Baku who is just minding his own business next to you. Like they ended up bickering.......... After that, the reader got upset and ignored Baku, him ended up comforting and making up for it even if it's wasn't his fault. I feel like it'll be a chaotic scene 💀💀✌

pairing — park humin (baku) x gn!reader genre — fluff, comedy, established relationship warnings — mild language, excessive boyfriend whining, baku being baku word count — ~400

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

note: finally some good guys™ on here !! i am such a lovey dovey baku truther he would be so whipped and be super lovely to his partner. i love doing shorter reqs like this to fill in the gap between my longer fics.

you were sprawled across the couch, laser-focused on your phone screen, muttering threats under your breath as your in-game ammo count dropped lower and lower.

“die, die, die—” defeat. the bright red letters flashed mockingly.

“NOOOOO!” you shrieked, smacking the couch cushion and flailing your legs. “i had that! i had that!”

baku, sitting beside you eating chips and watching a basketball highlight video, turned to you with wide eyes. “yo, what happened??”

“your fault!” you groaned, flopping sideways and lightly punching his shoulder.

“HUH?!” he yelped, holding the chip bag protectively as it shook in his grasp. “what’d i do?! i was just sitting here breathing, peacefully!”

“exactly,” you grumbled. “you jinxed me with your stupid happy breathing.”

he blinked. “what’s wrong with my breathing?! it’s normal human breathing!!”

“normal and cursed,” you muttered, pouting as you hugged your phone to your chest like a child whose toy was just taken away. “i swear that last headshot didn’t even count.”

baku opened his mouth to argue but paused when he saw the full-blown pout forming on your lips. he immediately softened. “...wait. you’re mad mad?”

you sniffed dramatically and turned away. “go breathe over there. traitor.”

he panicked. “hey—wait, don’t ignore me. babe. baby. i love you. please.”

you didn’t answer, which made him whine louder.

“noooo, don’t do this to me. don’t ice me out,” he said, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. “i’ll uninstall the game for you. i’ll email the devs and tell them to apologize. i’ll 1v1 whoever killed you. right now.” baku pouts, brows furrowing.

you resisted laughing. “you don’t even play this game.”

“i will now. out of spite.”

he tucked his chin over your shoulder and started swaying you gently, like he was trying to soothe a toddler mid-meltdown. “aigoo... my baby’s upset. i can feel the sadness radiating from your pores. it’s okay. blame me, hit me, kick me—just don’t ignore me. please!” he whines, all in theatrics.

you tried to hold back a smile, but it slipped.

“there it is,” he coos with a grin. “my cute, scary little sharpshooter.”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, leaning into his chest despite everything.

he kissed the top of your head. “but you absolutely love it.”

you sighed. “…if i lose again, it’s still your fault.”

“fair.”

“and you owe me boba.”

“make it two,” he grinned, already grabbing his hoodie. “let’s go right now. no game defeat can hold us down when we got boba and love.”

“...you’re such a dork.”

“but i’m your dork,” he quips again, flashing you a peace sign and poking his cheek with it, showing off his dumb little smile.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ weak hero class ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia @mrgzzarella @ilyhachii @youmeshii @actuallynarii @midnight--raine @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @trasshy-artist @crowneve @juicyjam @xh01bri @onyourlisa345 @triciawritesstuff @prettywhenicry4 @dripoftheseus @rosieparkk @gacktsa @sopitadearvejas @satorustorm @d4ily_s-nshine @mirwors (ask to be tagged or removed)

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 10

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael finally discuss where you stand with each other…and the feelings rooting around in your heart.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: I’m a people pleaser at heart, so here’s the next one a bit early! (you guys are great omg thank you so much!)🥹

My current outline has sixteen parts + an epilogue, so seven parts to go! Still undecided if I want to wait around for season two to see if I should pick it back up, or just end it (but I’m so attached to them lol)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, feelings, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, finally some comfort

not beta read

You felt like you had stared at the large red ENTRANCE sign for an hour, but it was likely only a minute. Your heart was in your throat. You still had no clue what you really wanted to say to Michael; nothing felt adequate enough. How could you translate the anger, or the steadfast longing in your chest without crossing them? Without forgoing one and letting it fester?

Did you risk it all on the truth? Did you attempt to find a middle ground in just a friendship? Or would it be better to decide to cut it all off before it got worse? Your stomach rolled uneasily, your anxiety working its way through your chest.

Stepping into the emergency department waiting room, you noted how much busier it was. Frowning, you thought to just turn around and see her PCP, call Michael and apologize. Surely, he should understand.

Your eyes met the registration clerk—Lupe—and she waved you forward, stopping all the thoughts in their tracks. She smiled as you approached.

You pulled the corners of your lips up in greeting.

“I’ll let Dr. Robby know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

You found a seat far off to the side, eyeing several of the other people warily. A good few of them looked far worse than you did, and all you needed were your stitches removed. Guilt worked its way through your system — you really should have kept your PCP appointment and just met Michael somewhere to talk.

It only took a few minutes before Michael was walking out into the waiting room, his face neutral. There was something flickering in his eyes, however, as they searched for you.

When your eyes met, they held steady — an entire ocean of things unsaid sitting between you, the last month of all the anxiety, the longing, the anger, the uncertainty, crashed into that waiting room. The room halted, and grew impossibly silent, your entire world centered on his brown eyes. It felt like meeting his gaze at the cafe all over again but with a knowing this time — just a shred of it, but it made your heart race.

Then he smiled and you finally relaxed.

You stood and walked towards him, ignoring the way several other people complained that you had only just arrived. His eyes centered you and you fought the heat crawling to your cheeks coming from his attention, overthinking each of your movements and trying to school them. You needed to hold onto some of your anger so you didn’t jump into the deep end too early.

There were still so many things you needed to talk about. So many things to figure out.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Robby.” You teased, though it came out clunkier than you had hoped and you internally cursed at yourself.

The corner of his mouth rose higher and he gestured for you to follow after him. You stepped into pace with him, side-eyeing him and trying to calm your racing heart. It was stupid that he could still have this effect on you, even when you were still a bit mad at him.

“Short notice is the name of the game in the Pitt.” He teased back.

Your nose scrunched, “The Pitt?”

He waved his hand to motion to the ER, “I call this place the Pitt. Affectionately, of course.”

You chuckled lightly, “Affectionately? Right, of course.”

He smirked, moving past the main desk and toward a room. The nurse who had helped you last time—Dana—watched curiously as you passed by. You tried to ignore the attention as several eyes glued to the side of your face.

You could see why the waiting room was so packed, there were no beds available in the back. Michael eventually gestured to an open “room”. The only privacy you would be afforded was a curtain. Heat crawled up your back, the kind of feeling where it was obvious you were being watched. You glanced back to the main desk, where several nurses had gathered, and Michael followed your gaze. When his eyes settled on everyone, they dispersed almost immediately.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a room—”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I need to strip.” You said offhandedly, “It’s only my palm.”

His face was red by the time you looked back at him, but he adjusted it quickly and smiled softly. You sat up on the gurney. Michael tapped on the tablet for a few moments, before setting it aside.

“Alright, let me see.” He reached into the inside of his hoodie to grab glasses out of his scrubs pocket.

The black frames sat elegantly on his nose and your brain short circuited. You stared at him dumbly, barely registering his eyebrow raising.

You swallowed thickly, “You wear glasses?”

He blinked, glancing away from your face, “I know, I know. I look like such an old man—”

“No.” You said quickly. “Distinguished. Intellectual. Handsome. Poetic.” Fucking devastating in the best way, in a way that could ruin any restraint I thought I had, you thought before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Definitely not old.”

His ears got red, and his lips gave way for a gentle smile to break through. His eyes avoided you, looking down at the tray table and fussing with a few of the instruments. He moved to get latex gloves on, and you had the fleeting thought that you preferred his skin on yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered huskily as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your palm and assessed it. “It’s healing really well.”

The latex felt like the heavy conversation that needed to happen, keeping you from being skin-to-skin.

“It’s still fuckin’ itchy.” You said, a corner of your mouth quirking up.

Michael laughed, “You’ll still need to keep it covered.”

You scrunched your nose at him, “I was hoping this would be it.”

He shook his head at you, “Not quite. I’ll remove the stitches and then apply some adhesive strips, which you should keep on for another five days. Then bandages will be fine after that.”

You let out a long breath, “Trying not to stretch out my palm has been hard enough for just two weeks. It’s my dominant hand.”

“This shouldn’t hurt at all, but let me know if it does.” He said, bringing surgical scissors to your wound. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be trying to grab knives as they fall.”

You frowned, but an eyebrow raised in amusement, “I’m trying out for a juggling competition. Riskier the item, the bigger the reward.”

He smirked, “Yeah?”

“Totally, but this one guy lit his knives on fire, so I think he wins.”

Michael chuckled lightly, beginning to cut away your stitches, pulling away the pieces. He was right in the fact that it didn’t hurt, but you felt the tugging at your skin that felt odd coupled with the wound itching.

“I definitely don’t think you should be signing up for any competitions for at least a month.”

You faked a scowl, “I suppose I could, on doctor’s orders.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. Neither of you moved for several beats of your heart.

“I don’t know if you’re busy later—”

“Do you want to—”

You stared at each other and each of your lips broke out into a grin.

Michael cleared his throat, looking back down to remove your stitches. “I don’t know if you’re busy later, but perhaps we could get together to talk? We could meet at a more neutral location this time, so you’re not uncomfortable.”

“Talking really wasn’t that great last time.” You said quietly, your stomach knotting together.

Michael frowned, a long breath of air escaping his nose, his eyebrows pulling together while he focused on the task. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

An awkward air swarmed into their space. You became painfully aware of the eyes again, and you not so subtly looked up to find Langdon hovering by a patient in the “room” to your right. A nurse was standing beside him and she avoided your eyes when you looked over at them. Averting your eyes, you tried to focus on Michael’s hands so the embarrassment wouldn’t creep in.

“I think we’re being watched.” You leaned just a bit closer to him, whispering as low as you could.

Michael looked up and then over his shoulder. He spotted the onlookers easily.

“Gossip hounds, the lot of them.” He told you, though not unkindly.

“We should probably talk elsewhere, then.” You said, “To clear the air, of course.”

“Of course.” He echoed, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Your place?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel—”

“No, I think it might be better than trying to have this conversation somewhere in public.” You told him with a small shrug.

He nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you when I leave tonight and you can meet me there.”

“Just promise me something?” You ventured, trying to look into his eyes.

He looked back at you, “Anything.”

“No more hiding. Just honesty.”

“No more hiding.”

—

Michael’s apartment seemed much more daunting than it ever had, even the first time you had been there. The last time you had been in it, you had kissed and then you had fled. What might have changed if you had stayed?

You shook off the what ifs and got into the elevator. Tapping your foot to try to get rid of your anxious energy before you walked in, fiddling with your fingernails. You knew bringing in the nerves with you would suit you ill.

There was still a lingering ache in your heart and your stomach rolled. Realistically, you should have prepped more for the worst, for the “I’m too old for you” and “you don’t want me” or even “this can’t happen”, “I don’t want you like that”. It seized the ache and made it burn — shame, embarrassment bleeding and drowning the shred of hope that was trying to grow.

Knocking on his door, you held your breath. You felt your heart pound against your ribs and you rubbed anxious circles onto your thigh.

His face did little to quell your concerns when he opened the door. He invited you in with a sheepish smile, still in his scrub bottoms but with a new shirt.

You sat awkwardly on his couch while he went to get you a glass of water, desperately trying not to bounce your leg.

Michael walked back into the living room, setting down your water onto a coaster before finally sitting beside you. The silence was crushing, the only sounds coming from your breathing and the hum of the radiators.

“Look, I really just want to apologize for what I said to you. I hurt you and I’m really sorry.” Michael told you softly, and you met his gaze, but struggled to hold it. “It was—it was unfair. More than unfair to throw that in your face. I think very highly of you, actually, and the agreement just kept getting in the way.”

“Getting in the way?” You questioned, “Of what? What you thought about me? That I was just—”

“No, no,” he sighed, “It was making me second guess my own feelings. If they were real. If it was okay. I was getting painfully insecure about it.”

You gave a nod and a pause stretched between you.

“I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t have done without the agreement, or if I ever would have approached you otherwise. We likely still would have never crossed paths, so I have to at least be thankful that we did, despite the circumstances.” You said.

“I just thought—I thought it was one sided, until you kissed me back and—” His voice grew tight, “You ran. It only made me run further from my own feelings. I felt so guilty. I felt like a creep. It wasn’t what we had agreed to and I eventually thought that you were just entertaining me. That it really didn’t mean anything. I wanted to end it to spare myself the humiliation.”

Blinking slowly at him, you digested his words. Feelings. He had feelings. For me.

“I wasn’t entertaining you. I forgot about the agreement sometimes, too. I didn’t really know how to bring it up without sounding like an idiot. Or for you to think I was just being naive. I was trying to save myself the embarrassment when I ran, of it just being a spur of the moment thing or something that didn’t actually mean anything to you. Because it meant something to me. I really wish I did stay, but I can be a coward sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t. I mean…spur of the moment, maybe, but I had thought about it before. I got scared because it meant something to me, too.” He said, voice quiet. “But the agreement made me feel weird about it—”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “It felt like that for me too. But I kept thinking about it every day after that.”

“You’re young—”

“That doesn’t negate my feelings.”

He stared at your face, absorbing your words. “You don’t need to be tied down to an old man like me.”

You shook your head at him, “With or without the agreement, I’m free to make my own choices. About what I want. About…this. About you.”

He watched you closely, eyes flickering across your face. His expression shifted, just slightly, like hope seeped in, his eyebrows raising just slightly. “My life can be a mess. And I’ll be honest in the fact that you can do so much better.”

You frowned, “I won’t beg, Michael, you don’t have to—I—my feelings for you are all out in the open now and I won’t take them back.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rubbing his hands along his pants while he looked away. “I promised I wouldn’t run anymore, so…I’m here. I want to stay. I want to figure out what this is, or could be.”

A breath of relief exited your nose, before you took another breath to steady yourself. “I want to forgive you, and I think I’ll still need some time—”

“—and that’s okay—”

“—but I like this. I want to see where it could go.”

“...you do?” He asked tentatively, eyebrows raising slightly.

You swallowed, your throat growing tight. No more running. “No more agreement. Just two adults…trying to figure it all out.”

“Frankly, I don’t know where we stand without it…the agreement, I mean.”

“We could start fresh,” you offered, sticking out her hand and introducing yourself. Like it was the first time you were meeting.

He glanced at you hand and smiled, taking hold of it with his own, “Nice to meet you. My name is Michael and I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

An easy smile formed, “I’d like that.”

[ Next ]

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08 @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Me being Peter 3: I love you guys😭

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements

♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear

these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason

> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.

> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.

> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact

> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced…He’s repressed, not stupid.

> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs

> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”

> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved… he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name

> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again

> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.

> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly

> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him

> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“

> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer

> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling

> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again

Bo Sinclair

> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes

> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”

> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”

> “Top three then-“

> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins

> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner

> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much

> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”

> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you

> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you

> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“

> His dirty talk gets you both off…again, and again, and again…

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore

> “Fine, fine…we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”

Vincent Sinclair

> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex

> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.

> He let’s you make the first move

> …or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while

> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes

> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you

> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.

> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him

> You giggle again “…wanna go all the way?”

>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours

> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close

> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out

> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath

Danny Johnson

> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally

> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves

> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that

> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“

> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout

> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea…Those usually don’t end well

> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.

> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before

> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass

> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him

> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner

> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him

> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him

> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show

> At least until he’s about to cum

> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other

> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”

> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection

> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though…you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them

Billy Lenz

> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.

> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling

> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone…

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“

> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously

> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited

> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?

> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage

> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance

> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating

> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you

> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“

> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants

> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly

> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once

> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much

> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once

> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you

> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm

> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning

Hannibal Lecter

> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient

> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward

> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)

> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch

> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”

> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches

> “…darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but…”

> “But what my love?”

> “Can you pretty please touch me?”

> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth

> Of course he wants, needs to taste you

> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet

> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time

> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again

> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working

> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it

> “Good puppy…Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”

> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside

> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him

> What a good pet you made…

Bubba Sawyer

> Bubba is so scared of sex at first…Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.

> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”

> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you

> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.

> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!

> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”

> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?

> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”

> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean…

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.

> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.

> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.

> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position

> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too

> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”

> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful

> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.

> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning

[thbbie]

༄ law x f!reader (based on this ask)

it's been hours. hours since you've gotten in bed, tossing and turning to no avail. you can't sleep, and law is still busy working away in his study late into the night.

nothing feels right, the room is too bright and too dark all at once, too quiet without laws soft snores by your side, too empty. you feels the clothing on your body and the heat of the room and and and — it's all too much.

frustrated, you slip out of bed, quietly padding over to laws study, he must have lost track of time, getting absorbed in his reading and forgetting all else. it's nothing new though that does little to change that it's a bad habit. for a doctor, he's very good at ignoring his own well being.

the rooms silent when you step in, law hunched over at his desk with a stack of books on either side of him. was he trying to get through all that tonight? in your head you add that he might be stupid next to the note about the irony of how he treats his health and being dedicated to his practice as a doctor. the mental not punctuated with a little question mark.

pushing one of the two stacks of books aside to make room for yourself, gently prying the book front of him away and replacing it with you body.

holding the book he was reading so intently in your hands, making sure to dog ear the page he was on before teasingly flipping through it. his eyes feel heavy, when you pull the book away, the exhaustion settles in all at once, it's as though he hadn't noticed it before.

laws head falls forward, resting on your chest and your hands come up to play with the dark strands. it's natural. muscle memory. your nails scratch at his scalp gentle, running your fingers through his hair, gentle twirling it in little sections.

on accident, you tug on a piece of his hair, the familiar sting in his scalp — he groans. it's natural, familiar. so is the tightness in his pants as a result. muscle memory.

you don't notice at first, and he doesn't say anything; all to embarrassed by the situation. heat creeps up his cheeks when you don't stop soothingly playing with his hair. it's so sweet, so innocent. he feels so perverse.

it happens again. law digs his teeth into his lips to muffle the sound, closing his eyes in hopes of distracting himself from his thoughts.

but it continues. again. and again. and it's too much for him to believe it's only coincidence. the sleep has left him completely.

his hands firmly planted one either side of you in the desk. law lifts his head to look at you, chin balanced in between your soft chest. oh he looks so handsome like this, with his face flushed all the way to his ears, his tan skin painted in a deep red, bitten lips pushed into a pout, his grey eyes dark and glistening.

so so handsome, and you get him all to yourself.

smiling down at him innocently, you're still tired but your energy renewed through teasing your boyfriend. "traf? you're so warm. do you feel sick?" your hands coming up to hold his face in mock worry.

"im hot" his voice hoarse.

tell me something i don't know

"oh yea?" you look down to see his hands fisted on the desk, so tight his knuckles turn white. you let go of his face to take them in yours, "you're allowed to touch me, ya know that right?"

your encouragement goes a little further than you'd anticipated, because right now, laws face is blissfully buried between your legs, his tattooed fingers holding you open for him while lapping away at you softly.

he's knows just what to do, an expert in human anatomy after all. he alternates between licking and suctioning your cute clit, twirling his tongue around it in ceasing circles and lapping away at your slit from bottom to top in broad strips the warm metal ball on his tongue only adding to your pleasure.

rolling it against your clit and law listens to your moans and lets them guide his movements, teaching him what you like and what you love. where you need him most. and when your hands leave his hair, moving to claw at the polished wood of his desk — to ground yourself, he'll take them in his and return them to their rightful place; his hair. encouraging you to tug by sliding his tongue into your crying entrance, fucking you with it nice and slow — he's savouring it. curling his tongue inside you in a way he knows you'll feel the little silver jewel in his tongue.

"tra-traf. im close. shitshit, yes~ right there. right there."

he says something in response that you don't quite catch with how far hes buried himself into you. pretty silver eyes looking up at you, wanting to watch your face as you unravel for him.

law wants to see you when you cum on his tongue.

you stare back, eyes hazy and your skin flushed, tugging at his hair to feel him moan against your core.

you come undone with one last flick against your clit, pulling him further into you as you do and law has never been happier to be dragged around, enjoying the taste of you in his tongue.

your grip on him loosens as you come down from it, he gives your glossy twitching folds a chaste kiss before standing to his full length, bending down to press a loving kiss to your temple.

"thank you."

what for-

"for coming to check on me."

the question mark from earlier disappears, he is stupid. your stupid. you chuckle to yourself at that, oh how you love him. hugging him close you whisper to him tiredly, "don't do it again. whatever it is, it can wait. your rest comes first my love"

his heart feels so full. your love. it makes him giddy. in a sweet innocent way, the kind of feeing he wouldn't except to feel with the taste of your orgasim still in his lips and yet he does.

both to tired to hull your bodies over to your room, you fall asleep together on his desk chair, it's cramped but neither of you mind the closeness. your heartbeats beat in tandem, syncing together as you're both lulled into your late sleep.

shanks ver zoro ver

whoo!! all done!! idk how i did but i hope you enjoy nonnie <3

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ coke and vodka, chris sturniolo

fratboy!chris x fem!reader

synopsis. in which while at one of chris’ frat parties, he takes a shot of vodka and a line of cocaine off of your body as he is head-to-head with his frat friend at who can do it quicker off their girlfriends.

warnings. cocaine, drug use, alcohol.

authors note. this is ass but i really want to post more so send in requests if you like.

chris walks over to you, a cola and vodka in one hand, a small plastic bag in the other.

“hey baby, i gotta ask you a quick favour and you can’t say no” chris says as his one of his frat bros stands next to him, watching you and chris.

“what’s up?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow slightly, a little scared for what he’s going to ask you to do. you can feel his friend staring at you, making you feel slightly uncomfortable.

he smiles, knowing you aren’t going to like this answer one bit, “i need you to do a challenge with me” chris answers. his friend pulling out his phone to time chris and you can tell it’s going to be something really stupid.

you dart your tongue out to swipe over your glossy lips, “what’s the challenge though, chris?” you question.

“take a line of coke and a body shot off you.” chris says, his arm wrapping around your waist pulling you closer before before friend interrupts.

“and the loser has to give the other $100” he chuckles. chris’ grip tightens on your hip.

“seriously? so you’re taking coke and a body shot off my body?” you ask, looking between the two boys who are looking at you.

chris’ friend nods and chuckles, “yep. you got a problem with that?” he laughs, looking you up and down. chris’ eyes narrow slightly at his friends comment.

you were taken aback by his reply slightly, “um, no i don’t. just an odd request. but what do i get out of it?” you ask, licking your lips again before taking a sip of the vodka coke in your red solo cup.

chris smirks, knowing you’re always looking for something to be in it for you.

“fine, uh…” he thinks for a moment. he suddenly lights up, having an idea at what he could give you for a prize, “if i win, you won’t complain for a week about my habits. drugs, gambling, parties, everything.”

you mentally groan at this, “and if you lose, chris?” you wonder.

chris looks at you, narrowing his eyes slightly before glancing back at his friend, “if i lose” he says looking back to you, “i’ll take you out on a romantic date, wherever you want to go.” he laughs slightly, waiting for you to agree.

that sounded really nice since you and chris rarely went on dates, so you gave in, “fine. i’ll do it”

chris grins and walks you to the sofa and you sit down on the soft sofa. his friend pulls out his phone to time chris, as chris lifts your skirt a little higher to place the coke on your upper thigh.

“stop moving, sweetheart” chris says as he puts his cold hand on your inner thigh to stop you from moving about as he tries to set out a line on your skin.

he then picks up the clear shot glass, pouring vodka into it and placing it in your shirt, between your tits.

chris stands up and takes a step back to admire his work, his eyes slowly trailing your body before smirking, “perfect, hold still” he says, looking over at his frat friend with a cocky look on his face to make sure he’s timing him.

“okay, get on with it” you sass, wanting to get back to your friends and finish partying.

chris looks back at you with a smirk on his face, “someone’s impatient” he chuckles slightly, watching as his gets closer to you two. chris lowers his head and slowly brings it down to your thigh, placing one hand on your hip and the other on the side of your thigh.

he plugs one side of his nose as he snorts the white powder off your leg.

once he takes a deep breath, feeling the drug flow through his body. he leans up to your chest and moves your top down slightly, enough to give him space to wrap his lips around the plastic glass.

chris slowly brings his lips to the shot glass and wraps his lips around it, once he has enough grip on it he tilts his head back, letting the liquid fall down his throat.

once the glass is empty he lets the glass fall from his mouth, he looks down to you and notices some of the vodka spilled down your stomach, causing him to bite his lip.

he smirks at you, leaning forward and placing a kiss to your lips before turning back to his friend behind him “i done that in under 15 seconds” he says.

chris’ friend checks his phone and nods, “13 seconds, you won” he says, putting his phone back in his pocket, before grabbing his wallet.

“how long did it take you to do it off your girl?” chris asks, referring back to ten minutes ago when his friend took a line and a shot of his girlfriend the exact same way he did off you, “17 seconds” his friend replies, handing his a $100 dollar bill.

“im going to go get a drink” you say standing up getting ready to leave chris and his friend alone.

chris grabs onto your hip, spinning you around before you walk away and pulling you into a kiss.

you let your hand lean over his shoulder as you deepen the kiss. chris brings his hand up with the $100 bill in it and reaches down into your bra and stuffs the bill in there before disconnecting your lips, “that’s for you to buy drinks, love” he says, patting your ass before leaving one more kiss to your lips, “i love you” he whispers in your ear, grinning.

“i love you too” you smirk at him before walking over to your group of friends.