#i don’t even go here but YIKES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seokgyuu · 4 months

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You might have a thing for Seokmin’s hands. Seokmin, your best friend. Who you definitely do not see as anything else! Really. Not at all! And he obviously doesn’t see you as anything else either. Like, for real! … Right?

Pairing: Seokmin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Best friends to lovers, Smut (MDNI!).

Requested: yes, thanks sweet anon!!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Going through my requests right now and this one stuck out because I too love Seokmin’s hands. I mean… look at them!! Thanks for the request lovely anon and sorry that it took literal months for me to finish this (yikes).

tagging: @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics, @onlyseokmins, @dkakapizzaboy, @honeykyeom, @drunk-on-dk, @cheolism, @wooahaeproductions <3 just because i want to, hihi.

Smut Warnings under the cut!

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk

In your many years on this planet most of these have been spent being best friends with Lee Seokmin.

At this point you probably knew him better than he knew himself and vice versa. There was nothing the two of you didn’t share, sometimes being mistaken for a couple when in reality all you feel for each other is nothing but platonic admiration. You love each other, but platonically! You sleep in each other's arms most nights, but platonically! Sometimes you wish he would hold you a little tighter and sometimes he wishes he could touch you in places he shouldn’t, but it is all, of course, platonically!

In fact, your relationship is so platonic that you are currently holding your beloved vibrator to your throbbing clit staring at a picture of his hands. His beautiful hands, his long fingers graced by rings you had gifted him because, fuck, did you love seeing him with jewellery you had given him. Especially rings.

The high you’re craving as much as you feel guilty is nearing and you arch your back, hips chasing the feeling of the vibrations on your bundle of nerves - and when the thought of Seokmin above you with his fingers fucking you open, rings on and all, occupies your mind once more, not leaving any space for a guilty conscience, you finally come undone. You sigh his name over and over, riding out your orgasm and once your vibrator is off and your panties are back in place, you slowly start to realize what you’ve just done. Again. How many times have you told yourself you wouldn’t do this again? How many times have you sworn that Seokmin was your best friend and nothing else?

Best friends don’t think about the other when they get off. Best friends don’t crave the other’s touch when they aren’t around. Best friends don’t want to get finger-fucked by the other!

Maybe, you think, you aren’t Seokmin’s best friend after all because all of these points apply to you. With a groan you lock your phone and swing your legs off the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy from your orgasm. Just when you are about to head to the bathroom, you hear knocks on your front door.

Frowning, you look at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. It’s one o’clock in the morning, who would ever- another knock. More vehemently this time. You blink a few times, not even registering that you’re wearing nothing but one of Seokmin’s shirts and your panties when you open the door.

Glossy brown eyes look at you, reddened cheeks and lips on the face you think about more than you should.

“Seokmin?!”

“You’re- you’re wearing my shirt.”

He is inside your apartment with the door closed behind you in mere seconds. His hands somehow landed on your waist and you are now stuck between him and the cold wall, your eyes big and round looking up at him.

“What are you doing here, what- what’s going on?”

“I kissed someone,” he breathes and you hate that the words make your heart drop, “I kissed this girl when I was at a club with Mingyu and- fuck, I kissed her and I somehow realized that I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Okay, that’s okay, Seok. You stopped kissing her then, right?”

When he shakes his head, you feel another pang of pain inside your chest.

“I kissed her some more, she asked me to go home with her and I was already on my way out, ready to get into the cab and let her take me to her place, but…”

The way he looks at you, the way his fingers dig into your skin. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t want to ask.

“You’re drunk.” You somehow stumble out, freeing yourself from his grasp and instead walking over to the kitchen, to get your best friend some water.

“I didn’t even drink that much.” You hear the pout before you see it, turning around to face him, your eyes settling on his body leaning against the doorframe.

“You should still drink some water, Seok, alright?”

He doesn’t try to stop you when you hand him the glass and he even takes two big sips before putting it down.

“Why didn’t you call before you came here?” You ask then, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Phone’s dead.” He explains and you sigh, pulling a hand over your face.

“So, you didn’t tell Soonyoung you’re not coming home tonight?”

“I-,” Seokmin starts but then realizes he, in fact, hadn't told his roommate he was going to be gone for the night.

“Lee Seokmin,” you shake your head at him, “get my phone from my room and text him, I bet he’s dying of worry right now. You know how he is.”

As much as Seokmin wishes it wasn’t true - it is. Soonyoung his (other) best friend and roommate is overbearing as much as he is kind. Pouting once more, he turns around to walk into your bedroom, seeing your phone laying on top of your bed. For a split second he feels guilty - had he woken you up? Gnawing on his bottom lip, he rids himself of his coat and hangs it over your desk chair, also taking off his shoes in the process and putting them next to yours by the closet, before finally grabbing your phone and unlocking it with the code he just so happens to know.

He stops in his steps. Stares at the screen. Then, he blinks a few times and feels his body react right away. Electricity shoots through him and explanations as of why he is seeing what he’s seeing, explanations that have his stomach flip and his heart triple in speed, that have his imagination go wilder than he’d usually allow himself around you.

“Y/N.”

“Did you not find it?” You call back from the kitchen, getting out a pot to make some late night ramen, only to turn around and look at him and feel your face fall. He is holding your phone up for you to see the screen, his zoomed in hands still on your display. Fuck.

Coming up with an explanation as of why the fuck his hands are on your screen at almost 2 o’clock in the morning leaves your brain blank. There is only so much you can say that isn’t totally weird - and even then, it still is.

But something about the way Seokmin is looking at you isn’t even allowing you to open your mouth and stutter out a lame excuse.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he begins calmly, slowly walking over to you now, “why are my hands zoomed in on your phone screen in the middle of the night, darling?”

The pet name bolts through you and leaves your brain even more blank. Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak, how to think. Yet, Seokmin seems to know that he caught you in something he didn’t even know it was possible to find you in.

“Y/N, be honest,” he repeats when he is back in front of you, when you’re caged in between him and the kitchen counter, when all that’s between you is the little space he has left, “do you have a thing for my hands?”

Shit. He’s so close now, your phone discarded on the counter next to you and you still don’t remember how to speak. It’s stupid, you know it is, he’s probably just teasing you, just trying to get a reaction out of you before he laughs it off.

Just that he doesn’t.

Seokmin doesn’t move, instead he comes closer, one of his insanely pretty hands softly grabbing your chin, turning your head to make you look straight up at him. God, his eyes are sparkling. Everything about him seems to be sparkling.

“Answer me, love.”

You wish you could, really. But your mouth is dry and your body is burning and all you can focus on is the hand on your face. So, instead of verbally answering you, very slowly, nod. The smug smile that spreads on Seokmin’s face is something no one could have prepared you for.

“Interesting. Let’s see.” He moves his hand up just slightly, thumb brushing against your lips and you can’t help but drop open your mouth, sucking it right into your wet heat. The moan that escapes him catches both of you by surprise and has you pressing your thighs together. Seokmin doesn’t speak, he just looks at you, letting you suck in his thumb with wide eyes that have his cock twitching wildly in his pants.

He begins thrusting his thumb into your mouth, saliva building up and beginning to trickle down out of the corners of your lips, his eyes glued on your face. When you begin to swirl your tongue around him, he breathes out a strained sigh, quickly replacing his thumb with is middle and index finger.

Now it’s you who’s moaning. How many nights had you stayed awake with your fingers inside your cunt, with your vibrator against your clit, with you humping your pillow, imagining exactly this. Sucking on his finger’s as he fucked you senseless with either his other hand or his cock.

“Fuck, baby, you really do have a thing for my hands,” he mutters, perhaps even more to himself than you and he instructs you to suck on them, his free hand sneaking around you, pressing you against him flat on your ass.

Nothing has ever been as much of a turn on as this. Seokmin’s fingers in your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass as he is very obviously rubbing himself against you, his erection visible through his pants and hard to miss against your lower stomach. He doesn’t speak for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having all the power over you, something he had never thought possible, bathing in the knowledge you want him just as much as he wants you.

When he deems it enough, he pulls his fingers out, thick saliva connecting them to your red lips and he groans at the sight, quickly bringing the fingers down and straight to where you need them the most. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, instead he slips his hand into your folds and feels them, coating the two fingers he just pulled out of your mouth in your juices, reveling in your small noises.

“Want them inside of you, don’t you, baby girl? Want me to fuck you with them?”

It’s merely a whisper coming out of his mouth and you whimper, nodding your head yes once more, Seokmin chuckling as he leans forward, his breath hitting your face.

“Need you to use your words, okay?” He says, lips touching your cheek and you swallow hard, hips bucking to meet his fingers.

“I-,” you stutter, “I, f-fuck, Seokmin, please-,”

“Please what, darling?”

“Pl-please p-put them i-inside,” you cry out, your hands gripping the material of his shirt, eyes begging him to do as you asked.

“God, you’re so desperate, might just make me cum in my pants. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy with my hands while you’re wearing my shirt, fuck,” his voice is breathy against your ear and you’re just about to beg him again, when he finally does what you’ve been dreaming about for years.

The second he breaches your hole, you already feel like the gates of heaven just opened up for you. His fingers are like the drug you knew you’d get addicted to once you’ve got a taste of them and the second they are fully inside you, you fear nothing will ever come close again. Your body reacts by shaking uncontrollably, your pussy sucking him in as far as possible, Seokmin’s moans in your ear the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. As his fingers begin to thrust inside of you, his lips begin to kiss your neck, up to your cheek and finally your lips, both of you sighing in relief when you finally take one step further. Because somehow this is more intimate than his fingers fucking you.

This could have easily been mistaken as a tipsy Seokmin helping his best friend blowing off steam by finally giving into her desire for him, but the second he kisses you both of you know this is going to be so much more.

Your arms move to wrap around his neck as you spread your legs further for him, giving him better access and more room to move his hand as he continues his thrusts, your whimpers against his lips skilfully getting caught by his tongue.

“So fucking wet and tight, such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He mumbles against your mouth and you nod, pulling him closer, lips back on his to begin yet another heated kiss. The two of you make out, one of your legs around his waist as he picks up his speed, thumb finding your clit no problem, causing you to arch your back and pant into the kiss.

“Seok- so- so close!” You cry out and he chuckles again, kissing down your neck, sucking harshly on your skin as he pulls his fingers out only to come back with one more.

Three fingers fuck you open for more, your moans getting louder, fingers digging into his nape as you chase his fingers with your hips, tears behind your eyes threatening to spill because of how fucking turned on you were. You’re dripping down his fingers, down your thighs, your panties shoved to the side by him, probably cutting into his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on my fingers? How long have you wanted this, hm? How long have you dreamt of my fingers fucking you until you make them drip in your cum?”

His dirty words are so out of character for your usually so bright and sweet best friend, but they do their job perfectly. Accompanying your whines is your pussy clenching around him repeatedly, throbbing against his fingers and Seokmin really thinks he could shoot his load just from this.

“Faster, pl-please!” Your hips are moving at rapid speed and Seokmin meets your efforts, thumb pressing down on your clit and letting his fingers quickly pump in and out of your perfect pussy, already feeling your nearing climax around him.

When he kisses you again, his tongue finding yours, circling it skilfully and sucking it into his mouth, you feel your orgasm rush over you, cum soaking his whole hand as he fucks you through it, your moans landing right in his hot mouth.

“That’s it, darling, cum on my fingers, soak them in your cum, show me how good I made you feel, fuck.”

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, tears of pleasure and happiness, tears of desperation as you ride out your orgasm, almost crying more when he pulls his fingers out of you to lick them clean like a starved man. Your head spins at the visual and you let yourself fall against the counter, sure you could probably count the stars floating around your head currently.

“Delicious, so pretty and delicious.” Seokmin hums when his fingers are out of his mouth and he smiles at you like the soft puppy you know he is.

“Seokmin…,” you don’t even know what to say, still in awe and still recovering from the best orgasm you’ve ever had. He shushes you, both of his hands on your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Later, love. Now, I need you to ride my cock, how does that sound?”

Smiling at him you think that nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

1K notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 1 year

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05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months

Text

about you ☆ cl16

genre: yearning, humor, pwp (smuttt, perhaps a bit dirtier than I intended, yikes), glimpse of fluff!

word count: 5.8k

Where Charles reminisces on his first love, where for a while, you were all his. First loves are portrayed as something you never want to forget or in this case, forgive. And it all started with a painting.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy style, spit, squirting, teary eyes, teasing, polaroids (ha!), slightly mean/teasing charles

inspired by this and this !

when inspo hits it hitsss. wrote a small one as a little treat, so grab your popcorn babyyy! enjoy! :)

“What about you?”

The group had settled into quite a comfortable spot, gossiping about first loves, if you really care about that type of thing, and spilling secrets. Seeing as it was late November everyone either had a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, courtesy of Lily.

“I don’t really like to talk about her anymore.” The room grows silent as Charles tries to play off the sudden shift. At times like these he almost envied the cold. The cold never once got questioned of why it was like that, but he knew the same wouldn’t go for him.

“Uh uh,” Daniel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “We all went around sharing, it's only protocol you do the same.”

If anyone felt Charles grow uncomfortable, they chose to ignore it. He can’t be too upset, before this he was enjoying his time, up until the attention turned to him. If it were anything else, he’d give it a go, but he knows too well that he can’t get out of this one.

“I’ll make it easier for you,” Lewis tries to ease the Monegasque. “How did you meet her?”

He feels quite sad that it takes him a while to remember, but eventually he recalls it all.

“I met her in LA.”

Staring up at the blazing sun you spill out dirty curses. You had been frolicking in the shops trying to find a decent vegan restaurant for your boss to enjoy. Digging out a hair tie from your tote bag has you even more irritated than you ever thought possible.

Stepping inside a small art gallery, you decide to refuge there for a bit. The cool AC instantly has you shutting your eyes in pleasure.

“How much for this piece?”

You pop an eye open before deciding not to spare a glance. “I don’t work here.”

The man lets out an awkward cough before excusing himself. “Sorry, I just thought…my mistake.” Feeling bad you turn your head.

“It’s alright, I should apologize as well.” Catching a first glimpse makes you hate yourself just a tiny bit for acting like a bossy LA girl. Didn’t help that he also had the nicest eyes humanly possible.

“I’m Charles.”

Mutually, you both spend some time walking around. He lets you know he’s only visiting as he is a foreigner. You let out a small sigh. “Lucky you didn’t grow up in LA. Extremely tiring, I can tell you that much.”

“Tiring how?” He glances at you for a split second before looking at the nearest canvas. You hum.

“You eventually grow tired of being someone you’re not.”

The stranger seems to feel bad enough based on his facial expression, but he understood what you were saying. A single ring expands into the air as you bite down on your lip.

“Shit, my boss.” Completely enthralled into your conversation time had completely slipped your mind. “I have to get going, but it was nice to meet you…”

“Charles,” he reminds you as you share an embarrassed nod. Something inside of him tells him to ask for your number, though it really wouldn’t be wise enough to do, he’s not even from here or a regular visitor. It wouldn’t make sense.

“...264,” you finish telling him as he quickly types in your phone number.

“Great. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

“Since when do you visit LA?” Pierre’s voice is filled with betrayal. Charles rolls his eyes at his friend. “Mate, you know I’ve always wanted to go there for Nobu!”

“Yeah, well no need to worry I’ll leave LA all to you now.” The definite confirmation in Charles’ voice has everyone wondering how bad things could have gotten between their friend and the unnamed girl he had once been hung up on, though he would never admit it.

“How did the dinner go?” Alex curiously questions, trying to dig in deeper. He knew he wanted to get the best version since Lily had practically begged him to fill her in on the drive back home.

“It was the best date I’ve ever had.”

“Your reservation doesn’t exist.” The waiter was starting to grow annoyed at the 25 year old who insisted he had called on the phone. I can look for my own name on the list, Charles offers though the man quickly raises his hand. “I’m sorry, but the restaurant has grown full. You can try again tomorrow.”

Sitting down on the sidewalk he tries to think of ways to break the news to you. All of them had him cringing. A yellow cab pulls up in front of him and you step out smelling like a garden in Italy.

“Charles!” you exclaim as you run clumsily with heels undone. Finishing up your shift you had quickly dashed home to try to get here one time. Being a few minutes late isn’t all that bad.

“Hey…” He rises up as you’re sitting down. Sheepishly he sits back down once again. “So you might hate me…”

“Why’s that?” you hum as your clip on your heels. Once you are done you stare up at him. Your eyes have him tongue tied as he tries to remember the last time he’s felt like this. Seeing you dressed so pretty makes him upset and he knows he can’t mess this up with admitting his mistake.

“Someone got our table.” Frowning you peek over at the hostess who is taking in more names and clients. “Yeah they just swooped in and stole it.”

“No way!” Feistiness paints your eyes as you stand up, hands on your waist. He realizes he doesn’t completely hate this look on you. Clearing his throat he stands as he pats his hands against his pants.

“Don’t worry though I’m sure we can find some place else.”

“That’s not fair though,” you point out as you start to make your way over. His eyes grow wide as he runs alongside you.

“It’s okay! I swear I’ll find you an even better restaurant where you can dine and display your pretty dress!” You look beautiful by the way, he adds and you quickly turn to him with a smile and blush painting your cheeks.

“I’m sure you could but still, we should say something.” He doesn’t have a chance to stop you as you reach the hostess.

“Hi,” you chirp as you grin kindly. The older man turned his attention with a bored expression.

“How can I help you?”

“Well, um, my date,” you turn and point at Charles who stands there with a blank stare. “He made a reservation for two and it seems you gave our table away.” The man, John, shakes his head.

“You must be mistaken - or have been lied to - but your table wasn’t given away because your date here never made a reservation, as I already informed him.” You both turn your attention to the Monegasque as he begins his act.

“Uhhh…”

Shaking your head you face John once again. “If he told me he made a reservation then he made a reservation.” Raising an eyebrow you stare back at him expectantly.

“As I already told you, no he didn’t.”

Growing more nervous Charles tries to convince you to let it go. I just looked it up and there’s a better restaurant just 2 hours away! “No,” you finalize as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “We are getting our table back.”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to keep waiting because we are most definitely not going to serve you today.” You roll your eyes.

“Thank you, John.” Making your way over you sit on a bench for waiting guests, Charles follows. “Which table did you reserve?”

“29.” Narrowing your eyes over at John you nod. “Alright. So here’s what we’re gonna do…”

“Are you sure about this?” He lifts you up toward an open window as you grab on, trying to stay secure.

“Just…yes. Just don’t drop me!” His hands placed on your body have him hard and he tries to play it off. This would not make him look good on a first date.

“Okay let me go now!” You screech as you climb over. He watches as you carefully place your Dior covered feet onto the ground. Clapping you shoot a thumbs up on your side of the glass. “Now it’s your turn.”

Rolling up his sleeves he slips into a small pep talk. You got this. You got this. Climbing up towards the window quite evenly has you standing there impressed. Pretty good, you congratulate as he looks down at your figure.

“Than-” Slipping he crashes onto the polished floors.

“Yikes.”

Rubbing his arm he follows you around the dimly lit restaurant. Lots of twists and turns. “I’m starting to get dizzy, how do you know this place so well?”

“I’ve made a few reservations for my boss and her colleagues to have private meetings, now hush and try not to catch anyone's attention!”

“Fuck! You’re Charles Leclerc!” A group of guys stand up in a hurry as you both stop dead in your tracks. You’re confused as to how they know your date's name but as soon as you catch a glimpse of their table’s number, your curiosity flows away.

“Oh so you guys stole our table!” You march over to them as they stare back confused. Charles immediately follows you.

“What are you talking about? We didn’t steal anything.” Tilting your head a bit you stare at them accusingly.

“Yes. Table 29. He reserved it.” You point over at Charles who is busy signing a few autographs in order for them to shut up and not get your attention. Dazed, you pull your eyes away from him as he stands there like a deer in headlights.

The guy ignores you as he pushes past you. Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest as you begin to glare. He begs for Charles to sign his shoe. Standing your ground you walk over to the now open seat. As the group starts to thank Charles for taking pictures and signing their belongings, which still doesn’t make much sense, they return to their table.

“Move.” The guy crosses his arms and begins to tap his fancy glossed shoes.

“No. This is our table.”

He turns to his friends who urge him. Others say, Leave it. She’s hot. Though as much as you're holding on to this stupid table, he is too. “Get up or I’ll have to call security.” Charles starts to stroll over to where you’re sitting to intervene with the situation but you let out a mocking laugh.

“You think a silly little trust fund baby like you scares me?” Licking your red lips you lean your arms over the dinner table. “Cause you don’t.”

His face starts to boil red as he tries to keep his cool. “Listen, this is our table. So get your filthy ass up and leave,” he spits out. Her ass is pretty nice, his friends confirm as Charles tries to restrain himself from going in for a sucker punch.

“It’s okay, jolie fille, I’ll buy you an even better dinner.” You push his hands away as your glare remains on the man in front of you.

“Quit acting like you’re the shit because you’re not. Has anyone taught you manners? Has anyone tamed the doggy?” You pout, poking his ego as he reaches out to drag you by the arm.

“Mate, there’s no need for that-” Charles begins before he catches a glimpse of a flying arm.

“Don’t touch me!” You yell out as you spare a solid uppercut, and as it was unexpected, he flew back where his friends all tackled to not let him fall.

A few guests gasp and others murmur. Charles sends a small dimpled smile before grabbing you, making sure you weren’t going in for more. “Crap. That shit hurt,” you moan as you massage your knuckles. Fondly, and a bit amazed, he smiles.

“I think we should leave,” he advises as you nod.

“Yeah. Go ahead and listen to your owner…doggy.” Turning around, Charles barely has a chance to grab you before you go in for another hit.

“You bitch!”

He stands up, not before his friends hold him back. You kick as Charles lifts you by your waist, carrying you away.

“Let go! I’m going to mess up his botox face!” You dig your nails, not intentionally, into his skin as he hisses.

As you continue screeching in his arms a now concerned and confused John stares, jaw on the floor.

“Don’t worry, Johnny, we’re leaving.”

“Holy shit!” Pierre stares, eyes wide. “That’s so cool! Why didn’t Kika and I do that on our first date?” Everyone agrees. Charles hums at the memory he had not reminisced on for quite a while.

“So you had a fun date and then what? You just let her go?” Lando shakes his head in disapproval, claiming he wouldn’t have messed up in that way.

“No, we still continued seeing each other.” He smiles. “You don’t get it. I was completely captivated by her.”

Apologizing over the last date you both had was pretty easy.

“Don’t worry. That was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” You laugh at his response as you take a sip of your lemonade. Glossy lips wrap around the straw before biting down. He had to stop staring.

“How did they know your name?” Fiddling with your cup you squint at him underneath your sunglasses. He stiffens.

“You see, I’m…I… I drive.”

You scrunch your nose like a bunny as you let out a muffled laugh. He shakes his head as he tries again.

“A Formula 1 car. I drive in Formula 1.” Nodding you twiddle with the straw.

“What’s that?”

Shocked, he finds himself asking, seriously? You shrug. “Care to explain, Mr. Leclerc.”

He spends the next 2 hours walking you through it all, taking his time. He learns that you had no idea of his status and career in F1 since it appeared that it isn’t as popular in California as it is in Europe, though it’s getting there.

“Nice. So I’m dealing with a celebrity,” you whisper jokingly as you raise your purse to cover you both. “Don’t wanna get paparazzied.”

“I’m not a celebrity,” he laughs as you giggle, bringing your purse down.

“Of course not,” you agree. “You’re Charles.”

For some reason, that makes him feel more seen than he has in years.

“Seriously, how long was this trip and why wasn’t I invited?”

“He just didn’t want you bugging him like you are now,” Max croaks as Pierre flips him off.

“I was only there to buy this one portrait, but as soon as I met her, it’s almost as if that was a reason to stay. I wanted to stay.” Charles stands up to serve himself another cup of hot chocolate, he adds almost half of the bag of marshmallows.

“Leave some for the rest of us,” George cries out.

“Look! He’s getting chocolate drunk, this is a real problem,” Lando pokes fun as Carlos laughs next to him.

“I want to know more about this mysterious girl. What was she like?”

The green eyed boy thinks about it. Then he thinks about it some more. “I don’t know…What I do know is that I’ve never met someone like her.”

“It’s a staple here in LA. You have to go.”

It’s 5pm and you both sit in your old Chevy your grandpa had passed down to you. Here you were, trying to convince Charles to go to the Griffith Observatory.

“I’m not sure…What if someone noticed me?” You tap his nose before you dig into your bag. You pull out two bucket hats.

“I survived LA?” he reads as you nod.

“Bucket hats like these are also a staple, now put it on.” You hand him a pair of Ray Bans as you begin to drive to your destination.

“I feel like Jessica Olsen,” you squeal as you skip a bit, Keds and tube socks scratching along the pavement.

“Jessica who?”

“I forgot you’re all oh la laaa,” you tease as he laughs. You bump your hip against his waist. “It’s a movie. Starstruck. It’s about a girl who ends up meeting this international superstar and they go on all these crazy adventures.” You purposely leave out the fact where they fall in love. “He betrays her by saying he doesn’t know of her on national television!”

Your wounded reaction has him playing along. He gasps. “No wayyy!” Rolling your eyes you pinch his bicep.

“Don’t be a Christopher Wilde and betray me, got it?”

“Christopher Wi-”

“He was the superstar, Charles,” you sigh. “You ought to watch the movie.”

“This is so cool.” He finds himself walking ahead of you as he grows more and more excited with the cosmos.

Behind him you say, “It is, but it sucks you can see more city lights than actual stars.”

He finds you pouting and he wishes for nothing more than to kiss you.

“City lights are cool too.”

“You went to the Observatory as well!” Pierre groans into a pillow.

“Get over it already,” Yuki grunts.

Charles had forgotten how much he enjoyed his time with you. Back in Los Angeles you had said people there pretended to be something they’re not. In Europe, he felt the same. Coincidentally, when you were together, you both were the truest versions of yourselves. Something you both wished you were able to keep.

“Damn. This is pretty cute,” Lewis admits. “How long did you stay there?”

“1 month.” Everyone gasps.

“Oh you were into her into her,” Alex whistles. Growing a bit embarrassed Charles finds himself looking for any excuse to stop talking about you.

“Tell us more! Tell us more!” Daniel chants as he drums his hands against the wall. He shifts a bit before leaning his head up against the warm couch.

“I met her family.”

“God, what did I do to deserve this?” your dad yells as he stares up at the open sky, backyard lit with fairy lights.

“Calm down before you scare him away!” You had invited Charles over for homemade burgers, but you moved out a long time ago, you had no idea your dad was a recent Formula 1 fan. Specifically, Ferrari.

“Of course. I can act cool.”

Breathing hard, Charles finds you carrying your sister's baby. “Hey.” His voice cracks and you laugh.

“Cute. What’s up?”

Fixing his collared shirt he pushes his hair back a bit. “You’re dad is amazing. I mean it, but I need a little break.” Looking over, you find your dad already staring, foolishly sending two thumbs up.

“Ha! I get it. You can stick with me and Macy.” You coo at your niece as she drools down onto her bib. Instantly, you wipe her face. “Macy!” you screech as you softly pinch her chubby cheek.

Charles finds himself staring, admiring, and he never wants an excuse to look away. He’s never been the kind to envision his future with someone, but in that moment, he could. He saw you both living somewhere small, and cozy, somewhere where he could stupidly - and greedily - just enjoy you for himself. He could see you both having a few kids to fill in family portraits. Sundays at the Observatory.

“She’s cute.” Smiling you nod as you press a few kisses on the baby's cheeks and damn it, he won’t admit it, but he was just the tiniest bit jealous. Lucky, he thinks.

“Do you want to carry her?”

Too afraid he steps back, creating distance. “I would just drop her.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t,” you say as you hand Macy over to him. “Just make sure to support her head, please.” He does as instructed, but as soon as Macy lets out a little kick he almost finds himself purposefully letting go.

“She doesn’t like me, it’s fine!” Maybe he was a little afraid.

“She was only getting comfortable. Weren’t you Macy?” Your baby voice has him feeling more for you than humanly possible. Finally settling down, Charles and Macy grow into a comfortable position. Slowly, she begins to fall asleep.

“Thank you God!” you sister whisper-shouts as she lays a warm pat on Charles’ shoulder. “She doesn’t fall asleep with anyone, she must like you.”

“Really?” This makes him happier than he’d like to admit. Maybe he could do the whole dad-thing one day. His eyes travel towards you.

Frowning you whisper to the baby, “I see how it is.”

As the night grows darker, you both, along with Macy, sit next to the bonfire. “Seriously, a fire during summer?” you groan as you lay against Charles' shoulder. He could do this.

“It’s quite nice.” You let out a small snort as you fiddle with the baby blankie. “Thank you for inviting me.” The shyness in his voice is enough to make your heart swell.

“Of course.”

You take Macy to change her diaper and you disappear when your sister walks up to him. Pulling out a chair for her she thanks him. “You must really like her.” Despite his better judgment, he doesn’t answer. “But it also seems she likes you. You both are very cute. How long have you been together?”

“Uh, I’ve only known her for a week.”

Her eyes grow wide as she lets out a grin.

“Oh she really likes you.”

“Meeting the parents after a week and getting approval? 10/10,” George says as he claps.

“This isn’t daycare, Georgie,” Lewis teases. His teammate immediately stops clapping. More questions are thrown his way but one makes his heart stop for a split second.

“Did you fall in love?”

And he doesn’t have to think about it, because he knows he did.

“Sucks that you won’t be here forever,” you whisper. Amidst of summer, you both decided to go to your nearest farmers market. Picking out some plums he pauses and hands you one. Wiping it a bit, you bite down and let out a soft moan.

“Very good, Charles,” you commend as he smiles softly.

“Thank you, maman,” he highlights. “My mom showed us how to pick good fruit.”

“Do you miss her? Home?” Helping now to fill the small paper bag he thinks about it.

“Oddly enough, no. I mean I do miss my mom, but not home. Not half as what I thought I would.” Handing the lady money, you thank her.

“How’s that?” As much as you sometimes grew tired of Los Angeles you knew deep inside that you would grow homesick.

“You’ve made it pretty easy not to miss.”

Kicking a nearby rock you focus on the old man singing. “Very sweet for you to inflate my ego,” tossing the plum seed into the trash can you turn back around to face him. “I know you’re lying.”

He shrugs. “I mean it, but if you choose to ignore the truth…” Winking, he grabs the paper bag from you. “Hey, do you mind taking care of this?” The group of little boys sitting criss cross look up from their game.

“Sure?”

Grabbing your hand he takes you to the middle, where mostly elderly couples are dancing. “Spare me a dance?” Giggling you nod as you fit the small of your hand into his warm palm. Electricity shoots through you and if it weren’t for Charles flinching as well you would have sworn it was all a part of your imagination.

With his hands on your hips and your own lazily spilling over his shoulders you both sway. It's a rare focus of pure devotion, one that you’ve never felt. One he hasn’t either.

“Not too shabby.” Throwing a playful scowl he spins you before dipping you, hair flying as you let out a yelp.

“You’re going to crack her neck!” The small lady scolds as she looks over to where you giggle. “You’re lucky she’s alive. I’ve been dropped by that move,” she snaps as her husband holds her back.

“It was one time!”

Nodding, Charles brings you back towards him, delicately running his thumb against your cheek. “Didn’t snap your neck, did I?” The way he smiles is enough for you to lean into his touch.

“Nope.”

“So darling!” The old lady squeals as she places her hand over her heart.

After a few songs you both make your way to where the little boys were sitting. “Charles, they stole our plums!” you screech when you find out the group is long gone.

“Fuck. I paid them too.”

That night he invited you over to his hotel. “You can’t drive. Summer rain,” he insists as he points out the window of his room. Loud drops hit the glass.

“I would have been fine but alright,” you shrug as you jump onto his bed. “So what do you want to do? Pillow fight? Prank calls? Ouija board?”

“You’re sick.” He cracks a smile when you shrug.

“Well I’m not tired so you better think of something!”

Boy did he think. He imagined. He grew lustful, but no.

“I know how to shag.” The blush that creeps onto your cheeks makes him choke. “Shag as in the dance! The dance. My mom taught my brothers and I. I could teach you…” You nod.

Spending time in a tight hotel room with a low tune and feet stepping over one another has to be the highlight of his life.

“I thought you knew!”

“I do! I swear!”

You groan as you drop against the bed. “Time out,” you say as you cross your arms as an X, to display your break.

“Fine.” Since you both had not eaten much he decided to order room service. As you wait you both lay down watching old races of his. “Why this?”

“I want to learn more,” you explain as you hush him. The camera pans to a slightly older guy, extremely tan and extremely handsome. As soon as you catch a glimpse that he wears the same race suit as Charles you pause the screen. “That beautiful man is your teammate? The one you were talking about?” The tone of your voice has him groaning.

“Yes?”

“Wow,” you murmur as you softly touch the screen, eyes shining. Slapping the computer shut you turn to him with a sour face. “Why!”

“It’s weird,” he tries to reason.

“So if I reacted like that to you it would be ‘weird’ too?” His voice hitches at your interpretation. Growing shy you look away.

“I guess I would be flattered to be noticed by someone like you.” In a single moment he leans in and kisses you and it's almost as if any other kiss he’s had would never compare. You feel it too, the way he lets you meet his lips as if he’s been waiting for this, as if he’s been craving you.

A soft whine is released as he towers over you, purposefully making you lean against his soft bed. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt hikes up allowing him to grip your thighs. He groans when you begin to rub yourself against him. He can feel just how wet you are and it takes all of him to not flip you to take you from behind.

The door chimes. “Food delivery!”

“You knew when you first danced with her? I knew I loved Kika when she picked up my socks.”

“It sounds like you really loved her,” Lando says. Love, Charles wants to correct, because only an idiot would ever stop, but he bites his tongue.

“What I don’t understand is why we never knew of her before this. Why didn’t you make it work?” Carlos says as everyone nods, sharing the same question.

“It was never going to,” Charles confesses. He wishes it would, he really wishes it still could, but it won’t. “That’s just the way it had to be I suppose.”

“Fuck, fuck,” you moan out as Charles wraps his hand into your messy hair.

“You can take it,” he reassures you. I can, you cry out, mainly to convince yourself, but he’s just too big. Leaning back he spanks your ass before rubbing it.

“Did I hurt you?” he teases as you shake your head against the sheets. “Answer me.”

“No!” With all your power you rise up to your elbows before turning around to look at him with teary eyes. The picture you see is too much; snapping his hips against you he slips in and out in the most sinister way. Sweat covering his face but to you he was glowing. You squeal when he reaches over to push two fingers into your mouth. You gag around his long digits.

This makes you clench around him and he almost stops his pace to catch a break but the way you're moaning, whining, gives him all the strength to continue. You cough as you try to spit his fingers out.

“You weren’t choking on my cock earlier, how is it that you are around my fingers?” His voice is nothing but the opposite of sympathetic and you love it. You shut your eyes as you force yourself to start to suck on them. “That’s it, baby,” he swoons as you take him just the way he knew you could.

Retracting his finger you find yourself missing them. He makes up for it when he pinches your nipples in a certain way that has you pushing your hips back towards him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He mostly says this to himself, but it has you squirming underneath his touch. “You drive me so so fucking crazy, y’know? ‘Twas supposed to be here only for a couple of days, but fuck, it’s almost going to be a month.” You let out a pornographic moan when he slaps your ass before going in much deeper. You find yourself drooling by how good this all was. “You’re so fucking addicting.”

Harder, you wail as you reach up behind you for his hand. He lets out a deep laugh as he hands you a polaroid he took of you a couple of days ago. One where he’s fingering you in front of his hotel mirror.

In it you’re mid-moan, head thrown against his shoulder. It’s almost embarrassing the way you could see your juices shimmer in the picture. You snatch the photo before throwing it across the room.

He tsks his tongue as he flips you onto your back, swiftly pulling your legs up to his shoulders, the angle almost causing you to be completely smushed up against your thighs. “You didn’t like the picture, darling?

“I do,” you pant, trying to catch your breath as you are now face to face with him. “It’s just too much all at the same time.” You bite down on your lip when his mouth forms an O, brows drawn together as he tries his best to appear intact, but the clear sight of having you underneath him is enough to cancel his acting debut.

Reaching out, he grabs your polaroid camera. “Guess I’ll just have to take another.” He smirks when you gasp when he holds onto your legs with the other arm, glistening muscles shining. You flinch at the cold jewelry that covers his beautiful fingers before settling back into a string of whimpers and pleas.

His grip is the perfect amount and you swear you are filled with pure adrenaline that you’ve never felt with anyone. In the most professional manner he spits right into your pussy, only adding more friction than there already was. The warmth has you squeezing your legs around his shoulders, feeling his collar bones underneath. Your core grows tight.

“Shit, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes shut for the briefest moment.

“I can’t, I’m gonna…” You’re cut off when a sudden flash goes through. Wickedly, you find out he took a picture of your tits covered with his cum from earlier activities.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get prettier,” he murmurs as he gazes at the photo, his rhythm only growing faster, harder. He throws the photo - vowing to look for it later - before wrapping his hands around your calves. “You’re going to what?”

Cruel, you think, he’s being cruel. But you don’t give a single fuck, not even when he smirks.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Go on then baby.”

Letting out the loudest cry you throw your head back as you gush around him, him following, and in the most unexpected manner he rubs your clit. This only adds to your pleasure as you are controlled with an unfamiliar feeling. You squirt all around him.

“Fuckkk,” he groans as he snaps a picture of you midst squirting and moaning. Quickly, he places the photo on the nightstand before slowly pulling away, mixed cum oozing out. He brings his fingers to gather some before licking it.

“No more,” you weakly plead. He nods as he brings your legs down, leaning up to kiss your cheek before he kisses your lips. You sigh against him.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says when you kiss his nose. He feels your soft breath fanning him, he inhales your perfume, one that he could never forget.

“Ditto.”

“Would you have given up racing just to stay there with her?” Pierre questions when he notices just how serious his friend was about you. He tries to recall the last time he saw him like this but there was nothing that ever compared. It almost scared him, but he was mostly sad. Sad that his friend was yearning for something that was never going to happen.

“Yes.”

“What stopped you?” Lewis asks as he leans against his knees. The room has grown more serious, suddenly filled with gloominess.

“It came to the point where she didn’t want me anymore.” His friends all frown at his response, growing more curious as to what happened, where did you mess up? “I get it though.”

A glimpse of the art piece he first saw when he met you is hung on the wall, a reminder of what once was. That single piece of art was the only reason he even visited LA, if not, there wouldn’t be anything to tell. In a certain way, he’s thankful for the way things flowed because at least he had the pleasure of getting to know someone like you.

“Are you telling them the story of your month trip for my favorite painting?” Charlotte jokes as she enters the room with Lily. “You guys, he waited so long just to buy it for me, it was the most romantic thing ever.” She swoons as Lily smiles, unknowing of the truth behind the painting.

The guys instantly spring their attention back to Charles where he sits silently. He stands up, walking over and places a kiss on her forehead.

“I would do it all over again.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1

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leonfucker3000 · 17 days

Text

Gotcha

Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird

Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.

oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.

tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱

The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.

Close. He’s so fucking close.

You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.

His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.

You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.

“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”

You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together.

After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake.

“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture.

“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.

“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger.

“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”

“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”

“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.”

The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .”

You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ‘jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”

“Pretty?” You muse.

“Shut up.” He scoffs.

“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”

You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.”

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.”

“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”

“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.

This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie.

When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.

Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”

“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”

“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”

“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”

He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.”

“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”

He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”

Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?”

“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but—

But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”

“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?”

He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”

“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?”

“If you tell me the truth I will.”

“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”

A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.

“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open.

He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”

“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”

His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”

You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”

You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time.

“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.”

You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.

When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”

His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”

“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”

You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”

He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”

All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier.

God is he an idiot.

Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here?

“We shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.

After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants.

Who he wants so, so badly.

He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace.

“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before.

God, fuck it.

You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch.

He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties.

His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.”

You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”

“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.”

He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“

You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow.

Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.

You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.

First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper.

Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine

“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot.

“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.

Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain.

You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”

Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”

“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?”

He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”

A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.

You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”

“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance.

“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker .

“ Leon.”

“Atta girl.”

He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him.

He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.”

“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.

You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.

“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters.

Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.

He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.

Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.

He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”

“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?”

A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”

You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.

“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”

“Like I said, can’t promise anything.”

You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.

“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.

You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.

You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?”

“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.”

Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”

“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.”

Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”

He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.

Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.

You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #cowboy!leon #leonfucker3000

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chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months

Text

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot.

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead.

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both.

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut.

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot.

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high.

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes.

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option.

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day.

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor.

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door.

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.”

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you.

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction.

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point,

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?”

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru.

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well.

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you.

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power.

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had.

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms.

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too.

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps.

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door.

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back.

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream.

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod.

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #bruh why am i blushing #reader is kinda nonchalant ngl

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

Text

Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 4 progress

(read other sections of this and more stories here)

Danny floated miserably through the stacks, pulling out books that looked remotely plausible. Maybe he needed help. Jazz would help him without laughing at him, right?

Sam and Tucker absolutely would not. They would think it was hilarious that he had so little game that the universe assigned him a boyfriend via Jeremy Waters.

‘As if I could pull a guy who looks like that,’ Danny thought wryly, and then felt a little bad about himself in comparison. Jason was, uhhhh, physically blessed. He was tall and well proportioned and his hands- Danny fought down a shiver and resisted the urge to steal another look. Jason was out of sight anyway.

Well. He still hadn't seen Jason's face. Maybe he was ugly! You never know. Or maybe under the helmet it was totally smooth, no face. That would be neat. Danny paused mid motion to imagine that.

Haha. Sick, man.

That concept cheered him up a little as he grimly opened the first book and started skimming for likely words like marriage, spouse, and concubine.

He didn’t bother reading anything in detail. He stuck a post it note on each page with a relevant term and then put the book in a pile to take back to his dorm. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day.

Ah, shit. Danny paused. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day. He bit his lip and looked off in the direction where Jason had disappeared to do his own research.

He truly didn’t have time to devote to this right now. He was not willing to drop his school life in order to solve a sudden problem. Jason was just going to have to cope with whatever timeline Danny could manage without setting his life on fire.

On the other hand, Jason was a human guy who probably had a life of his own at the biker bar/fight club. Whatever the hell required that kind of outfit probably kept him busy! So Danny couldn’t like, just leave him in the castle to chill.

“Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be able to live here very long anyways,” Danny muttered to himself.

That was troubling him. Frankly, Jason should have been intolerably uncomfortable in the ghost zone for this long without specialized protective equipment. It wasn’t meant for humans.

‘What did Jeremy do to this guy?’

Yikes. Did this mean… Did this mean Danny should have given that little cult thing more credit? But Jeremy was just such a doofus. He grimaced. Embarrassing. Why were his enemies so embarrassing? This shit didn’t happen to, like, Wonder Woman.

Danny buried himself back in the books to avoid the growing suspicion that Jason might have been uhhhh magically altered to make him an appropriate concubine to a dead king. That thought sucked! He didn’t like it. He really didn’t like the idea of bringing it up with Jason.

When he had what he thought was a good first round of research, Danny shelved the books he’d gotten out and went to find where his …

He whole-body flinched at the point where he needed to plug an appropriate noun into that sentence.

“Jason?” Danny called, juggling books into a stack. “I think we should probably get you back to the re- the human world. Before something inexorable happens.”

A pause.

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Jason said. A book shut. Danny headed towards the sound, phasing through shelves effortlessly. A spark of curiosity lit up at Jason’s voice. He sounded relaxed, even through the helmet’s filter.

‘I want to hear his real voice. Bet it’s nice.’

Wait. What? Danny shook the thought away, discomforted. He plastered a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know any words,” he lied breezily. “I’m just ad libbing. Anyway!” He flopped dramatically down onto the big chair next to Jason’s, making sure to be extra physical to get a satisfying whumpf. “We really should go! I can get you to the human world, but, uh, I can’t promise to put you back where you came from.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I think this is going to be a more than one day affair.”

Jason was watching him. There was nothing visible through his helmet, but Danny got the sense that he was tense, waiting for a threat.

Which, what? Why would Jason feel threatened by-

Oh. Danny felt a knot in his stomach. Right. That made a lot of sense. He felt kinda sick.

He didn’t let the feeling show through and barreled on speaking. “I don’t exactly have an easy way for you to contact me, but we probably need to stay in touch to fix this. Do you have any ideas?”

The lie felt kind of gross. But he could hardly tell the guy; “I’m an engineering student in Gotham, you can just call my cell or come to the dorms.”

Jason seemed to relax at the cessation of control. “If you can stick around, yeah. I’ll get you a burner phone, exchange numbers. You’re not going to…” He trailed off. Danny felt a frown somehow. “You won’t have any signal here, actually. That won’t work.”

“I can make it work,” Danny assured him, hands up. “I mean, I can’t make it work here, or I would have offered to help with your tech. But I can pop in and out of the human world and check my messages.”

“That’ll work.” Jason’s helmet turned ever so slightly. “About the books…”

“You found something good?” Danny asked, impressed. “Yeah, awesome. Just be really careful with them, the librarian is a scary guy.”

Jason’s hand flexed over the closed book on his thigh. “I can take- how many can I take out?”

Danny scoffed. “I’m not your dad,” he said. “Whatever you can carry, man. You ready to go or do you need a minute?” He flipped back to his feet with a grunt.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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hysteria-things · 2 months

Text

SNEAK AWAY (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and nate are still going strong, but a lot of fans notice a few things in the new video…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 539

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: short and sweet!

chris fic tomorrow😌 (or tonight it depends when i start writing it)

y/nsturniolo

liked by madifilipowicz and 23,492 others

y/nsturniolo hawaii dump with my favorite people ever😌🌺☀️🏝️🩷

4,940 comments

nicolassturniolo yup yup yup

user you’re so pretty

↳ y/nsturniolo i love you🥹

↳ user HOLY SHIT HI QUEEN

nathandoe8 hey (with rizz)

↳ matthew.sturniolo what the hell

↳ user YIKES LMAOOO

↳ user praying for you nate🙏

madifilipowicz 🎉💕🌊

user what’s with all the nate pics🤨

↳ y/nsturniolo idk :/

user why do i ship her and nate🫣

↳ user THIS

↳ christophersturniolo no lol

“boys, please leave your sister alone.“ you hear your mother scold from outside of the bedroom door.

you guys got back from hawaii two days ago, but the triplets are staying in boston for an extra week before going back to LA.

“do not barge in there—” she scolds again, but it’s too late when the door swings open.

the three of them stand there panting, while marylou looks at them with her hands on her hips. it doesn’t end there; trevor comes running in and jumps on your bed.

his tail wags as he climbs onto your lap, leaving kisses on your face.

nick turns to her. “she’ll survive, mom.”

she sighs, walking out of your vision. your brothers stare at you like you’re in trouble. “we need to talk.” chris says, crossing his arms.

oh boy.

“about?”

they side eye each other. “you and nate.” matt says.

oh boy.

you clear your throat, trying not to barf everywhere. “w-what do you mean?”

“have you not seen the clips or comments?” chris asks, them now walking over to your bed and sitting. at this point, trevor has fallen asleep on your legs.

“no,” you answer, playing with the dog’s ears.

“girl.” nick tuts, pulling out his phone and tapping buttons before turning it to you. “look at this.”

you take his phone, scrolling through the comments on a tiktok.

thank GOD i’m not the only one who thought this

they HAVE to be hiding something they seem a little too close in this video😭

damn y’all detectives or something💀

imagine this is how nick, matt, and chris find out LMAOOOO

i always shipped them they seem so cute together :(

you stop scrolling the comments and watch the video. it’s a compilation of you and nate in the background.

one of the clips is when you guys were in the restaurant, and your chin rests on nate’s shoulder as the both of you look over something on his phone.

another clip is when you guys are walking, you and nate in the back of the group with his hand brushing against yours.

a few others show the way you two look at each other, eyes full of love and lust.

maybe you guys weren’t being as slick as you thought.

you hand nick’s phone back, nuzzling more into your blanket. “why didn’t you tell us?!” chris exclaims.

you shrug. “‘cause you’ll kill him.”

they roll their eyes. “we won’t kill him. we’ll threaten him.” nick clarifies.

as if that’s any better.

walking hand in hand, you and nate make way through the local park that's bare at this hour of the night. “so you’re telling me i should look out for threats?”

“yeah.” you smile, looking up at him before he gives you a sneak-attack kiss.

he sighs. “i’m kind of glad we don’t need to sneak away anymore. it got so depressing.”

you laugh, followed by an exhale. words cannot explain how much you love this kid. even though it was a hard launch to the public, you’re happy that you can show him off now. to make sure people know he’s yours and you’re his.

hopefully, no threats or killings take place by your overprotective siblings.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1

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writeyouin · 3 months

Text

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Don't Need You

A/N – Since the first chapter got comments and actual reblogs, surprise, surprise, I was motivated to continue. See, Tumblr? This is how it works. I respond to instant validation.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

You looked around the dusty hallway that comprised the main entrance to Lucifer’s manor. Yikes, Charlie was right; he really did need a cleaner. You doubted that was her main motivation for placing you in her father’s care but looking at the layers of thick dust and brimstone coating downstairs, you could see it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Lucifer watched you sceptically. Ideally, he would have liked to leave you to find your own way around, but he didn’t want to be accused of not trying by Charlie, should you call her and state that Lucifer was straight up ignoring you.

With that in mind, he bade you to follow him with a wave of his arm and gave you a half-arsed tour of each room, during which he would energetically state its name, and occasionally pepper in a fact if he felt like it and then hurry along.

“Parlor one, dining room, parlour two, library, parlour the… you know what, we have a lot of those, if you see a room with chairs and a fireplace, assume it’s a parlour. Moving on, bathroom, closet, like the parlour situation, there are lots of bathrooms and closets. Kitchen, which is always stocked by the way, so I don’t have to shop,” He muttered a sentence about the Hell of going out there, and then he was back to his bubbly self, rushing you through the rest of the tour, “Games room, spa, my room – don’t go in there – and here, among the unnecessary number of bedrooms, is your room.”

Although every room in the manor was lavish by Hell’s standards, Lucifer had sneakily pre-worked a bit of his magic to make yours somewhat undesirable. It was still large and had all the fixings, but now, it was dirty, damp, and there would always be an underlying scent of slightly rotten milk, that was just noticeable to annoy anyone, yet not something so offensive that he could be blamed for causing it.

The now slightly squalid room wasn’t Lucifer’s way of being petty and cruel; it was just that he wanted you to leave, and that would only happen if you had a reason to. You should go back to the Hotel where you belonged; better yet, you should just head to a different part of Hell where neither he nor his daughter would have to look at your disgustingly human face… A face that, though nothing like Lilith’s, reminded Lucifer of his wife since there was nobody else even remotely like her except for their daughter and now, unfortunately, you.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lucifer was just waiting for you to start demanding things of him, or Charlie. It would likely start with something small, like changing rooms, then if he gave you an inch, you would take a mile, and soon you would demand he use his Angelic Powers to serve you in seemingly impossible ways.

One way or another, the room was a test. You would either see it and leave in search of greener pastures or a better deal elsewhere, leeching off whoever would give you the time of day, or you would stay and start giving orders; either way, Lucifer would be able to return to his daughter with proof that sinners were the problem, not him.

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

Just then a portal opened over the canopy bed and two packed suitcases landed there, courtesy of Charlie. Lucifer tasted his daughter’s magic in the air and sighed resignedly; whatever Charlie had planned she wasn’t backing down from what she likely thought was a good idea.

“Right on time,” Lucifer commended the fine timing of his daughter, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable with her plan to give him company, he did seem genuinely proud of her expert timing; then again, he was proud of anything she chose to do even if he didn’t always understand what it was she was doing.

“Great,” He repeated somewhat tiredly. Then he forced himself to smile. It was important that you would see him happy so that Charlie would hear about it later. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m going to do some very important work.”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

Once Lucifer left, you flopped down on your bed, thinking about all you had seen. You checked your phone, finding several texts from Charlie, progressively getting more impatient as she awaited your reply with a somewhat hyper-anxious anticipation; it seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

You smiled and decided to put Charlie out of her misery. Your phone alerted you that she was already writing another message, but as soon as you started to compose one of your own, the notification that she was typing disappeared.

‘The tour was fine. Lucifer has been nothing but polite,’ and frazzled, you thought, though you omitted that part from the text; it was best that Charlie didn’t have anything extra to worry about while preparing for her meeting with Heaven.

‘My room is also amazing btw. I don’t know about Rococo or whatever, but it’s certainly stunning, and judging by the lack of stuffed animals and probably cheesy posters, I’m guessing it isn’t your old room.’

You really meant that. While your room was in need of a good cleaning, and there was a slightly off odour, it was indeed beautiful with its lacquered wooden floors, rich velvet drapes (Hell-Red of course) and lustrous emerald wallpaper. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, especially since arriving in Hell, not long dead after… the incident.

You removed your thoughts far from the grim memory of your death, not wanting to relive your demise. It never did any good to think of such things, and you had to wonder whether all Demons fixated on the manner in which they perished. Perhaps some were lucky enough to die in their sleep or get hit by a bus; at least the latter would be quick, and the former peaceful.

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

‘When you get the chance, snoop in the Short King’s bedroom and find out what kinky shit he’s into. I’m betting food play. He seems like a whipped cream and apples kind of guy if you catch my drift.’

Betting? He had undoubtedly roped Husk and Nifty into said bet. Husk had likely opted for a safe option like bondage… You didn’t want to know what kind of kinky shit Nifty thought Lucifer was into; that girl was a dark horse.

“Never going to happen,” You murmured to yourself with a chuckle; you would never invade Lucifer’s privacy like that, but Angel’s text had made you laugh and distracted you from your earlier thoughts.

Getting up, you pushed yourself into action and began unpacking both your thoughts and your few clothes and possessions. You lit a scented candle that Angel had gifted you. It was one of his unwanted gifts from Valentino, Blueberry Blowjob. You were glad when the scent filled the air, taking away from what you incorrectly assumed was the faint smell of mildew. The smell didn’t concern you, you had plenty more candles and tea lights with such names as Orange Orgasm, Popcorn Pussy, and Cherry Cum-Shot.

The manner was well furnished, but all of the rooms were neglected. There were seven parlours in total, each matching the theme of one Sin, probably because it would be polite should they ever need to meet with the Royal Family one-on-one. Despite that, they seemingly hadn’t been used in some time, nor had the library or any of the living rooms. You hadn’t seen much of Lucifer’s room as he rushed you past the door, which had only been slightly ajar, but what little you had caught a glimpse of seemed cleaner than the rest of the manor. Did he spend all of his time in there? Alone? That was… It was sad. Lucifer could live well among anyone in Hell, except maybe Alastor, yet he couldn’t see the good in anyone.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his maid. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

He didn’t even know why he continued to make them. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to make, and it was better to make something than nothing, even if he ended up creating the same thing over and over again, clinging to the memory of how one celestial duck had made Charlie smile.

Her smile was everything. Even Heaven couldn’t take that away, or… Maybe they could, if this meeting went awry. No. Please God, No. Not that. Anything but that. Kill the sinners. Show him the agonising mistake of Free Will for eternity, but he hoped to never see the day that Heaven treated his daughter with the same derision they typically reserved for him.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

Lucifer didn’t open the door. He didn’t want you to see inside his room. That was his space and his alone. Yet, he didn’t want any risk of you barging in, so he poofed himself to where you stood outside, using a glamorous entrance to grab your attention.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

“Oh,” You blinked back surprise, though you weren’t too shocked seeing how Alastar always snuck up on you at the Hotel in a similarly flamboyant manor. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I just wondered if you could tell me where the cleaning products are kept? I would like to get started as soon as I can.”

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his maid. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

You waited patiently for a response, having quickly learned that your host tended to drift between a fast-talking façade or thoughtful distractedness. You wished you didn’t have to ask him for help, but after searching three floors and the attic, you had gotten somewhat turned around, and you had no idea where you had already looked; the manor was massive.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

Behind you, Lucifer caught sight of a portrait of his family. The frame was carved blood-wood harvested from a Tree-Demon who once dared to insult Lilith in Lucifer’s presence. Two winged snakes adorned opposing corners of the portrait. With a lazy wave of his hand, they creaked and snapped, coming to life, and escaping their previous wooden home, leaving only indentations where they used to be. With another magical flourish, they grew slightly and became more life-like, shedding splinters as their new uniforms appeared.

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

You stared hard at the new servants of the house, somewhat amazed by the show of power; nobody else in Hell could do anything close to creating life, and it seemed that Lucifer didn’t even care that he had such power.

Frankly, Lucifer was upset with his new creations. He had finally strayed from ducks, creating something new for the first time in over a century, and they were still bland. When he had created Razzle and Dazzle for Charlie, he had done everything he could to make them beautiful and unique. These abominations in front of him were cheap copies of that Sir Pentious fellow he had seen at the hotel. He just didn’t have anything left worth creating. There was no point.

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.

“This is all my daughter’s plan. All you have to do is stay out of my way here and Charlie will be happy. Do you think you can manage that?”

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genderlessdude92 · 13 days

Note

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE)

SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons)

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

please don’t steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!!! (๑ᵕॢ૩ᵕॢ)*౨˚ൗ

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night 3 times minimum

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

AUTHOR’S NOTE: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

master list ouuu

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #lucifer x reader

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bbyseok · 1 year

Text

hold this for me

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

cw: ua students setting, gender neutral reader, swearing obviously, classmates/friends to lovers, bakugou is a tsundere through and through, i know the classrooms don’t have regular doors just bear with it.. slightly suggestive in the end, but this is just some mushy sappy shit for you all

analysis: you know, bakugou can do a lot with his hands. but he especially likes to hold things for you and only you.

———

bakugou likes to hold stuff for you.

the first time you notice it is during a regular school day. the bell rings and that’s everyone’s cue to stand and depart from their desks to move on to lunch.

there’s the usual chattering from the dekusquad as they take their time to exit the classroom. bakugou and his friends aren’t that far off either, with the blonde grouching behind his gang as they move towards the door.

you’re trailing behind them leisurely, and that’s when you see it.

the door swings slightly and you’re about to raise your arm up to push it back to continue walking when a hand catches it and stops it from closing any further.

you blink once, twice—and see that the hand belongs to a certain blonde. bakugou stares at you a second too long; red irises unreadable before you hear his signature scoff and he turns away.

“you’re such a slow ass,” is all you get before he’s sauntering after his friends, and you narrowly dodge the door as it falls shut.

did he just hold the door open for you?

before you can call him out on it, he’s already down the hall, sneering at kirishima who had placed his hand on his shoulder.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

the second time you notice it is during training. the heat is sweltering—literally everyone is panting and sweating and you’re sure one of your classmates is gonna pass out from heat exhaustion.

thankfully, aizawa is nearly done with today’s session. it’s obvious that the sleep-deprived teacher isn’t fond of today’s weather either.

most of your classmates, along with yourself, had tossed your gym jackets aside on the floor, but with the session finished, you figure you might as well grab yours from the pile.

you turn and nearly crash face first into bakugou’s chest.

“ow-! bakugou? what’re you-” you splutter and barely have time to actually ask what he’s doing before he’s shoving your jacket into your arms. and then you splutter in surprise some more.

“here, dumbass.” that’s all he has to say, glaring down at you intensely. (seriously, is he always scowling? it’s like he’s staring into your soul or something.)

“oh- uh, thanks?” you gather your jacket into your arms and then tie it around your waist. shit, he’s still standing there. “…you really didn’t have to.”

his arms are crossed when you look at him again. “yeah, yeah. go drink water or something. you look like you’re gonna pass the fuck out.”

(yikes. maybe you were the one who looks like they’re gonna pass out from heat exhaustion if bakugou is wasting his time to tell you that.)

your nose scrunches up. “right.”

and before you can say anything else, he’s storming away, hands shoved in his pockets ‘n all. some of the others usher over to you, bombarding you with questions, and realization dawns on you.

“what’d he say to you?”

“did bakugou just give you your jacket?”

“did he say anything else?”

(despite all the talking, you also realize that had been bakugou’s own little way—albeit a little gruff—of telling you to take care of yourself.)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

the third time you notice is all it takes for you to actually realize it.

the entire class had somehow managed to plan out a night at the movies over the weekend. what is even more surprising to you is that kirishima had somehow convinced bakugou to go.

(what you didn’t know at the time was that kiri had actually teased the explosive blonde that he’d be sitting next you. bakugou for sure as hell wasn’t gonna allow that.)

you’re running a little late to the theater—you really should have left with the others at the same time but you decided to get ready a bit later than you should’ve.

by the time you’re entering the theater, the previews are already playing on the big screen. you squint and try to catch sight of your classmates, walking along the rows of seats.

“oi, dumbass,” bakugou sneers to grab your attention, and you blink at him. he’s seated at the end of the row, away from the others, though they wave at you once they see you. he speaks again so you can look back at him, “i held up and saved this seat for you. sit your ass down already.”

you stare at him for a couple of seconds, dumbfounded. he, bakugou katsuki, wants you to sit next to him? the question must be written all over your face because he scowls. “come on- fucking sit down already!”

if it weren’t for the darkened lighting, you might have seen the pink on his cheeks as you giggle and make yourself comfortable for the next hour or so. “thanks, bakugou! you really didn’t have to save me a seat, y’know.” it makes you feel all warm that he did, though.

he slouches in his seat (somewhat towards you) and shoves his cheek into his palm. “fuckin’ whatever,” he mumbles, trying to play it off, “if you talk too much during the movie, i’ll kick your ass.”

and as you cast him a sideways glance, you snort in amusement. “whatever you say, bakugou.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you realize he likes holding stuff for you.. even if vehemently denies it with everything he has. with every fiber of his being. just like how he is right now with a bouquet of flowers.

“it’s not like it’s anything special! just fuckin’ take it, dumbass!” he threatens, looking at anything and everything but you, “‘fore i change my goddamn mind.”

he’s awkwardly standing in the doorframe of your dorm room after you had answered his knocking. he’s in his regular clothes, nothing too fancy, but you’re looking at him like he had just offered you the world.

“well?” his voice is loud but clearly racked with uncertainty, and you’re pretty sure that if he holds the flowers any longer they’re gonna burn up.

your heart flutters at his flustered state, and you decide to relieve him of his nervousness, however cute it makes him, and take the flowers from him with a genuine smile. “i love them. thank you, katsuki.”

his eyes then meet yours all wide before he’s grumbling again. “yeah, yeah. your welcome.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you decide to test it out, even though you’re now in a committed relationship with the red-eyed blonde.

now, bakugou is a refined chef. (or so he claims.) young man could whip up a lot of good meals thanks to his skills in the kitchen. so what does he do? he drags you over to help him.

though, it seems like some of the stuff you need is missing, so you go digging around the cabinets ‘n drawers as your boyfriend lingers over your shoulder.

“dumbass,” he grunts, “are you even sure it’s in there?” his tone is all accusatory as you start rummaging through one of the cabinets for a certain pot.

“i’m sure, ‘suki!” you insist, pulling and taking some things out. “hold on, hold this stuff f’me.”

all he does is grunt in confirmation and that’s all you need. sure, you can simply place them onto the counter but letting bakugou hold them for you is way more fun.

by the time you were done emptying out the cabinet, your boyfriend is balancing a complicated stack of pans, pots, and other tupperware in his arms. “the fuck, dumbass?” he scolds you, growling, “hold on-!”

you can’t help but burst into laughing until the small tower of stuff wobbles and you make a loud mess in the kitchen.

yes, he still likes holding stuff for you—even if you’re a little shit sometimes.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

now, you’re pretty confident that you know he likes holding anything for you. like, pretty confident. (it doesn’t hurt to still test it out, though. you like to keep him on his toes sometimes.)

you’re walking alongside him back to the dorms after a grocery run. it had first started as an adventure to grab bakugou’s precious spicy ramen and your favorite snacks, before his “stupid extras” of friends asked for some stuff too.

“katsu,” you coo at him to get his attention sweetly. you know it takes very little for him to listen to you, and you like to use that to your advantage. “can you hold this for me?”

bakugou turns his head and raises a brow expectantly at you. “tch. what is it?” he grunts, already willing.

you offer up your free hand with a stupid grin.

two seconds pass and then his face immediately flushes with the realization of what you want him to hold. “if you wanted to hold hands, you could’ve asked like a normal person, weirdo,” he grumbles, but he takes your hand nonetheless and twines your fingers with his.

you raise your joined hands together to press a kiss against his knuckles. “thanks, katsuki.”

his blush deepens as he tilts his chin up in feigned annoyance. “don’t even have to ask, idiot.” yet, there’s fondness that coats his voice.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

it’s in the dead of night that you ask bakugou katsuki to hold one more thing for you.

the moonlight dances over the expanse of bakugou’s room through the window. there’s the sound of crickets and their songs outside too.

but you and katsuki are only focused on each other, lost in each other’s touch. there’s only hushed whispers and soft caresses between the two of you.

and as you kiss him, you ask him to hold your heart.

which he gladly does, because if anything, bakugou katsuki loves to hold things for you.

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou fluff #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha fluff #mha fluff #rain’s writing #my writing

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