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wbbfannnnnn13 · 3 months ago

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Almost, Always // Chapter 3

A/N: I think I said by the end of the night so mission accomplished! This is a tad bit longer than previous chapters so enjoy all the angst because that's all you're getting... with a little fluff b/c I'm not that mean

W/C: 2.4k or something like that

Warning: maybe a cuss word or two??

Chapter 3: The First Shot

Paige lay on her couch, one arm draped over her forehead, phone resting on her stomach. The silence in her apartment felt suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. She knew she should be exhausted—should be relieved to finally be home after the chaos of All-Star Weekend. But all she could think about was the way Azzi had looked at her before walking away. The weight of that moment hadn’t lifted. If anything, it was settling deeper into her chest, a dull ache she couldn’t shake.

She wanted to call. To text. To fix it. It had been three whole days since they last spoke at the airport and every day since then she thought about it. It was the first thing she thought about in the morning and the only thing that occupied her thoughts. Her fingers would hover over her screen, staring at Azzi’s name like it might say something back to her, like it might pull the words she couldn’t seem to find out of her. But every time she tried, her thoughts would tangle, feeling like messy, knotted strings of fear and longing and regret. Her thumb would freeze just above the screen, paralyzed by the same question that had haunted her for months now: what if she said the wrong thing? What if reaching out only made things worse? What if it was already too late? And beneath it all, deeper than anything else, what if Azzi didn’t want to hear from her at all?

Why couldn't she just take that next step? Why did she care so much about what the public would think?

Paige felt like a coward. She hated herself for it. Because that’s exactly what she was in this moment. She was paralyzed, wrapped in hesitation, and painfully aware that the only thing holding her back from what she wanted most was herself.

She wasn’t ashamed of Azzi—she never had been. How could she be? Azzi was everything. She was the calm in Paige’s chaos, the one constant in a world that always felt like it was spinning too fast. Paige loved her—quietly, deeply, in a way that scared her sometimes. She adored the way Azzi saw through her defenses, the way her presence could steady her pulse with a single glance. Loving Azzi wasn’t hard—it was the easiest thing Paige had ever done. It was being brave enough to show it that she kept getting wrong. Fear had its claws in her, wrapping tight around her ribs, making it impossible to breathe easy. And she didn’t know how to let go.

It wasn’t just about them anymore. It was about the world. The cameras. The headlines. The endless cycle of speculation, of questions they’d have to answer, of people prying into something that had always been just theirs. Paige knew they’d have support—that wasn’t the issue. It was the exposure, the way things would change the second their relationship wasn’t something they could keep safe and untouched. Once it was out in the open, it wouldn’t just be theirs anymore. And it wouldn't just be about basketball. And that terrified her.

What if they lost themselves in it? What if they lost each other?

She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling sharply. Why couldn’t she just say fuck it and tell Azzi she was ready? Fuck.

She wasn’t even thinking about what she was doing, just mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. It was automatic. A distraction.

Until it wasn’t.

The moment she saw Azzi’s name, her fingers stilled. The caption beneath the post read: Azzi Fudd – 2026 Three-Point Contest Champion.

Paige hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. Her heart had already begun to beat faster, a subtle thrum that betrayed how much just seeing Azzi’s name still affected her. For a moment, she considered skipping past it—pretending it didn’t make her feel anything. But who was she kidding? She tapped the video.

The screen filled with her—stepping into shot after shot, her form as smooth as ever, her follow-through picture perfect. Every ball splashed through the net without touching the rim. Azzi wasn’t fazed. Wasn’t rattled. She barely reacted at all.

Of course she won. Easily.

A hollow feeling settled in Paige’s chest as she watched the clip loop again, and again, until it was burned into her mind. She was proud of Azzi. Of course she was. Watching her dominate, watching her step into the moment and own it like she always did, it should’ve made Paige feel something good. And in a way, it did. But right underneath that pride, tangled up with it, was the unmistakable weight of guilt.

Because Paige remembers the look on Azzi's face after winning—pride, exhilaration, and something softer beneath it, something aching. There had been this spark in her eyes, a glimmer that said she wanted more than applause, more than a trophy. She had looked at Paige like she was reaching for something only they understood. A kiss. A moment. A confirmation that they were still them. But Paige had hesitated. Again. Like she always did. She’d smiled instead, wrapped an arm around Azzi’s shoulders, played the part of the supportive friend in front of the cameras. And in doing so, she saw that glimmer dim, just slightly. The weight of that moment pressed against her chest now—the guilt of knowing she’d denied Azzi something simple and real, something that should’ve been second nature. And the fact that she couldn’t give Azzi what she wanted—what she deserved—was a kind of ache that Paige didn’t know how to name. It hollowed her out from the inside.

As the clip of Azzi looped on repeat, Paige couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to where it all started. To the first time she had ever seen that shot.

Not at USA camp, but a year or so prior.

The gym was packed, the sounds of sneakers squeaking and whistles echoing across multiple courts. Paige had just finished a game, still sweaty, still riding the high of another win. She and her teammates had wandered into the next gym, half-watching the game before theirs while laughing and talking about their last matchup.

She wasn’t paying much attention at first. Just another game, another set of players trying to prove themselves. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something different. A shooter on the far court, the ball leaving her fingertips the same way, every single time.

Paige turned her head fully now, eyes locked in. The girl was relentless—shot after shot, same perfect arc, same precise follow-through, like she could do this in her sleep. There was no wasted motion, no unnecessary adjustments. Just repetition. Pure, practiced skill.

Paige found herself staring, mid-sentence, her words trailing off as she watched the ball rip through the net again. And again. And again. The sound of the swish was almost hypnotic. There was something mesmerizing about the rhythm of it, the consistency, the quiet power behind every release. Paige felt a pull she couldn't explain—an invisible thread tethering her attention to the girl on the far court. Something in Paige shifted then, a quiet sense of recognition, like watching a moment you somehow already knew would matter. She didn’t know who the girl was, but something in her chest told her she’d just seen someone important.

"Who’s that?" she asked, barely realizing she’d spoken out loud.

One of her teammates followed her gaze, noticing Paige’s sudden silence. "Oh, that’s Fudd," she said, like the name should mean something. "From the DMV. Supposed to be the best shooter in my class."

Paige rolled the name over in her head. Fudd. She’d never heard it before, but she’d never seen a shot like that either. And she knew, even as she tore her eyes away, that she wasn’t going to forget it.

She left that tournament never speaking a word to her, but for some reason, that girl, the one who shot like a machine, stayed in the back of her mind.

A year later, Paige stepped onto the court for the first day of USA camp. She had been waiting for this moment, ready to prove herself, ready to show she belonged. She recognized a lot of faces, the best of the best gathered in one place. But then—

She saw her. Her stomach dropped. No way.

The girl from the AAU tournament. The one with the textbook shooting form, the one who had been burned into Paige’s mind for the last year without her even realizing it.

Only now, she had a name: Azzi Fudd.

That same perfect shot. That same unreadable expression. She didn’t miss a beat, stepping into each jumper like she had done it a million times before. Paige had always been taught that shooting was about repetition, but this? This was something else. It was like she had been built for it.

Paige couldn’t stop watching. Not in a weird way, obviously just… impressed. Mesmerized, even. The way Azzi moved, how she barely reacted when she drained five, six, seven in a row. No nod of approval to herself. No smirk. Just the same expression, like she expected every shot to go in.

Paige had always been about flash and fire, about the moments that made people gasp and cheer. But Azzi? Azzi was quiet precision, cold and lethal. Like ice.

She walked straight up to her. Not that she thought this through, exactly. "So, do you ever miss, or is that, like, a medical condition?"

Azzi turned, blinking at her. Sizing her up.

"Sometimes," she said, totally serious.

Paige grinned. Okay. Ice was the perfect way to describe her, not just because of how effortlessly she played, but because there was something untouchable about her. Something Paige wanted to crack open, just to see what was underneath.

Over the next few days, Paige was looking for the right moment to talk to Azzi. Nothing forced, nothing obvious—just a natural opening. A partner drill, a water break, anything. But Azzi never seemed interested. She was always locked in, always in rhythm, like she didn’t even notice Paige watching.

And Paige? Paige was starting to take it personally.

So when there was a rare break, when most of the players had scattered for a few minutes of downtime, Paige finally decided to stop waiting for a moment and just make one.

Paige can still remember the exchange of banter like it was yesterday. The way Azzi had looked at her, unbothered, unreadable, like she wasn’t sure if Paige was worth entertaining or not. And Paige had loved that challenge.

A smile ghosted across her lips at the memory. Because that conversation? It changed everything.

After that, they were inseparable.

Paige had gone into camp expecting to dominate, to prove herself, but she hadn’t expected Azzi. She hadn’t expected how easy conversation would be once Azzi finally let her in. How sharp she was, how quick her humor was, how much she actually talked once she was comfortable. Paige had spent the first few days thinking Azzi was just a quiet, locked-in player who didn’t care much for small talk. But once the wall came down?

Azzi was funny, competitive, and, most of all, she got Paige in a way that no one else did. It wasn’t just that they clicked—it was the way Paige had found herself wanting to be around her, needing to be around her. Even before she understood why, she was looking for Azzi in every room, gravitating toward her without meaning to.

Paige had been drawn to her from the start, not just because of her game, but because of the way she carried herself—quietly confident, never trying to demand attention but somehow owning every space she walked into. Paige had spent so much of her life being loud, being seen, being the person people talked about, but Azzi? Azzi didn’t have to try. She just was. And Paige had wanted to be next to her from the very beginning, long before she had words for it.

They’d always seemed inevitable after that week. Like there was no other way this story could go—until now.

Now, Paige knew that she was the only thing standing in the way of everything they had dreamed of, everything they had talked about for years. It was never about whether they were right for each other. It was about whether she could get out of her own way long enough to let them be.

That truth settled like a stone in her stomach, heavier than before. The guilt curled around her ribs, tightening with each breath, each thought of what it would’ve been like if she had just reached for Azzi instead of hesitating. If she had been standing next to her during that three-point contest, celebrating with her, proud and unafraid.

But she hadn’t. And now she was here, alone, stuck in the same spiral she had been for months.

The memory slipped away, reality sinking its claws back into her, and Paige blinked back into the present. Her apartment felt colder now, emptier, like she had just woken up from a dream she didn’t want to leave. But this wasn’t a dream. This was the mess she had made.

She picked up her phone again, Azzi’s contact open.

She started typing.

Stopped.

Deleted the message.

She exhaled sharply, grabbing her gym bag. If she was going to be thinking about Azzi this much, she needed to shoot.

But the second she stepped onto the court, she realized her shot had never felt heavier. The weight of it settled deep in her bones, pressing against her, making her feel unsteady in a way she wasn’t used to.

This wasn’t going to fix itself. The space between them wasn’t going to close unless she was the one to close it. No apology from Azzi, no perfect timing, no external push was going to make this right. It had to be her. It had always been her. She couldn’t keep waiting for the perfect moment or the right words—because perfect didn’t exist, and the right words never came. She had to do something. Anything. Before it was too late. Before the silence between them became permanent. Before that flicker of hope in Azzi’s eyes, what was left of it, died out completely. Before she would have to live with the ache of what they could have been, almost...

Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked off the court, grabbed her phone from her bag, and scrolled through her contacts. Her thumb hovered over the contact, hesitation creeping in. She swallowed hard, inhaled sharply—then pressed the call button.

Her heart pounded as she brought it to her ear, listening to the dial tone. Waiting.

The call connected.

Paige took a deep breath. "Hey…"

#paige bueckers #pazzi #azzi fudd

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gam3r-girli3 · 2 months ago

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The day Arthur proposed to you had the been the happiest day of his life - because, out of some sheer miracle, you'd said yes

He swore his heart had never felt so full and warm and whole

In that moment - when he slid his mother's ring onto your finger and stood, big hands grabbing your waist and pulling you into him so he can lean down to capture your lips with his - he knows he's finally found his happy ever after

Until it falls apart

It's his fault, of course it is. He was stupid, he fumbled the amazing relationship he had when, once again, his old mentor called and he, like a fool, came running

You'd often voiced your disapproval of Dutch many times since getting together with Arthur, but he'd shrugged it off

"That's just how he is", "You know Dutch, always gotta plan up his sleeve", "I know, darlin', but I owe him everythin,"

Now, he'd lost you because he, once again, chose Dutch over you

The months after the split were some of the hardest months he'd ever experienced

There was a constant ache in his chest that never seemed to leave, a pain that haunted him morning, noon and night

He couldn't bare to touch your side of the bed, still unmade from the day you'd left

He usually just slept on the couch, passed out after a bottle of whiskey

In your angry rush to leave, you'd left some things behind you; a toothbrush, a few hair ties lying around, and an old t-shirt belonging to Arthur that you'd stolen and claimed as your 'sleep shirt'

Sometimes he'd take it and bring it to his nose, deeply inhaling your scent and missing you even more than he already did

It's no secret that Arthur is loyal to those he loves beyond reason, and he's incredibly sentimental

Those few items you'd left behind get put into a box that he keeps sacredly, occasionally looking through it on days he finds himself reminiscing about the past

There's a framed photo on his nightstand collecting dust of the two of you; his friend Charles had snapped it one time at a barbecue hosted by Abigail and John

In it, you two had been embracing, stealing a moment for yourselves, his head leaning down to rest against your forehead, noses brushing against each other, eyes closed as you bask in each other's presence

It was a beautiful picture, and you'd been so grateful to Charles for capturing it and emailing you a copy to print and frame

There's days when it seems like you're haunting Arthur no matter where he goes or what he does

He'll be in town, walking down the street when he sees a woman with hair almost exactly like yours, remembering how soft it felt under his fingers

He'll be in the kitchen, making food when he hears one of your favourite songs on the radio, remembering how you used to sing along to it

He'll be scrolling on social media and an advertisement will pop up of your favourite perfume, remembering how the scent still lingered in your shared living space for days after you left

Regret and loneliness are constant companions in Arthur's heart as he tries to continue on living as normally as he can, going to work, coming home, running when Dutch says he needs his help

It's a solid year later before Arthur's path crosses with yours once again

The sight of you, so real and alive and right in front of him, is enough to take the breath from his lungs

You were always beautiful to him, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but now? There was something damn near ethereal about you

The conversation is short and sweet, polite and a little awkward

Somehow, by some stroke of good luck on his end, you end up having coffee with him, which turns into a few hours of catching up and talking like old times

Which leads to texting each other frequently, sending memes and jokes back and forth

And then, to you showing up at his door one night, regretful and wondering if you'd made a mistake by calling things off

Arthur's all too eager to have you come back to him, but he reigns it in, knowing he can't make you do anything; this has to be your choice

Arthur Morgan has never been the religious type but in that moment he sends out a prayer to whatever divine entity will listen that you'll forgive him and come back to him

requested ♡ hope you enjoy anon!

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #my fics

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

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Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (1 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, protective Kyle, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

With no one to turn to, you contact Gaz, knowing that he'll listen. But old instincts are hard to ignore, and Gaz comes to you because your current boyfriend isn't worth your love. He needs you to understand that.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

It’s late. The colors on the television are bright in the dark room. Sound is off but Kyle isn’t watching. It’s more for the background. A distraction. All the muscles in his body ache. That’s how it always is when he returns from another deployment.

Everything is fine until he arrives home and plops onto the sofa. Like a slumbering bear emerging from winter hibernation, his body reacts to the sudden silence of rest as if peace isn’t something Kyle deserves. It’s why he’s always gone, and because of his continuous absences, you left.

Lonely. You were always lonely with him, and it’s because Kyle made it so. It’s a constant regret that sits in the back of his throat like spice buildup. It burns. Rages. Simmers.

When Kyle’s phone starts buzzing, he doesn’t notice at first. The screen is bright like the television, but it isn’t until its rattling boxy body shifts that Kyle’s gaze glances downward. He considers leaving it, allowing the caller to fall to voicemail, but something stirs in his stomach. It hooks his attention.

Perhaps it’s the late hour or the sudden tightness in his chest. Something is bothering him like stubborn sticky spots on the kitchen floor.

Kyle sits up, reaching for the vibrating phone on the tabletop.

Your name scrolls across the screen.

At first, Kyle’s mind cannot comprehend it. The letters that make up your name move over the screen of the phone in a blur, almost like they’re moving too quickly. But that isn’t possible. Kyle’s mind simply cannot comprehend why the hell you’re calling him this late at night.

You are no longer his. The two of you aren’t together. You moved on and rightfully so. Kyle has seen all the social media posts, and sometimes the blokes at work might bring you up, usually to provoke him. But the fucking joke is on them. The separation was mutual. It was kind and calm and fine.

But that doesn’t mean Kyle hasn’t thought about you. There is no box inside his head to put you in. There is no hole or lock or key or barren wasteland where he could simply toss your memory into and forget.

Kyle didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to let you go.

But you weren’t happy. He was always gone, and still is. Kyle never figured out how to be a partner to you when he was a partner to his work.

He regrets not fighting for you. He regrets not speaking up instead of gently bowing out.

And it’s late. It’s fucking late. Why are you calling him?

Hope—or a sliver of it—blooms in his chest, twisting around inside his body like ribbons around bone. When the feeling pulls taut, that excitement slides into worry.

The two of you are not together.

You rarely call him.

But his phone is buzzing.

And you are waiting on the other end.

Kyle’s slides his thumb across his phone’s screen, answering the call. He brings it up his ear, and that is when he hears it—a choked inhalation. It is one he recognizes. You’re crying, and trying to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kyle automatically, the instinct to take care of you rising to the surface.

There is a soft sniffle before you speak. “It’s—fuck. I’m sorry for calling you this late. I didn’t think you’d even pick up. Or be home. Are you home? Shit. I—”

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, because there has to be something wrong. You’re calling him, not your boyfriend. “Are you hurt?”

The idea of someone putting hands on you builds in his mind. It is followed by so many other possibilities. A wrecked car. Someone following you home. Everything.

“No—I mean.” You pause, sighing. The difficulty to communicate doesn’t sit right with him. You’re clearly in distress and the need to fix it is unbearable.

“Are you at home?” This time Kyle lowers his voice. Makes it soft. Gentle.

“Yes,” you answer.

He nods as if you can see him. “I’m coming over.” Kyle is already pushing off the couch, shrugging on his coat, and reaching for his keys.

“Kyle.” You say his name—just his name—and it says so much.

The ribbon between his bones loosens. Tightens. Ties his emotions and memory of you all together until your face is all he can picture.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Kyle makes it in fifteen.

When you answer the door, Kyle shatters like glass hurled against the wall. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. The look on your face dances between anger, sadness, and relief. He has no idea where on the spectrum he currently sits but this vision of you only puts him back to those days when he’d come home for a few days, taking off again, leaving you with nothing for stretches at a time.

There are no awkward greetings. No embarrassed flushes. Kyle does not hesitate, and you open for him. He reaches for you, and you answer in kind, embracing Kyle so hard you might squeeze the air from his lungs.

That would be fine. Kyle would happily suffocate.

Kyle stands and holds you, breathing in your familiar scent, pressing his face into your hair. His eyes close, and it’s just like before. Like you never left him. The sensation of you this close ignites every possessive part of him. It tells him to not let go and to keep you close.

But you are not his woman. Not anymore. And yet you should be.

He does not pull away until you do. But you don’t retreat into your flat, or slip out of reach. You stay right where you are, the two of you hovering just inside the doorway. On instinct, Kyle is touching you, one hand cupping the side of your face, your tears staining his skin where he touches your flesh. His other hand is on your upper arm, thumb rubbing across the bare skin there in gentle strokes.

You begin to melt, the muscles in your body relaxing. What Kyle wants to do is to take you to the couch or the bed, to drape you over his body, to place you in his lap. That is the intimacy he craves. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

Those gorgeous lips of your part, mouth opening as if you wish to speak, but whatever you want to say is lodged in your throat. In their place come fresh tears and sudden shifts of emotions that range from frustration to despair.

You’re hurting. You’re hurting so much, and Kyle only wants to fix things.

“Look at me,” murmurs Kyle, both hands now cradling your face. “Let’s get you settled. Yeah?” You nod, your small smile forced. “Come with me,” he coaxes.

He draws away and gently reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to the sofa. He instructs you to recline, grabbing a few more pillows and a blanket. Once you’re all tucked in, Kyle digs around in your kitchen searching for snacks while the kettle boils for tea.

The need to take care of you is overwhelming. Kyle’s head throbs from the incessant voice that tells him to get you calm, to make you comfortable, to listen when you’re ready. The routine is easy, and Kyle provides, executing what you need without prompting or even second guessing it.

And you open up for him. Thank him. Reach out with your hand to hold his as he sits next to you on the couch. You’re calmer now with your tears wiped away and your face no longer puffy.

“Ready to talk about it?”

Your thumb runs along the edge of your mug. “Still want to hear it?”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies automatically.

You lick your lips and inhale. “He yelled at me.” By the defeat in your tone, Kyle can immediately tell that this isn’t the first time.

Kyle stays quiet, allowing you to take the lead, to tell it however you need to.

“This time it happened after we met up with some of his friends. I called him ‘boyfriend’ and got a few odd looks. In the car he told me not to call him that. I didn’t understand so I pushed.” You glance down at your tea. “He screamed the whole ride home. Dropped me off here and wouldn’t even look at me.”

Kyle goes cold all over. You’ve been with this guy for almost six months and he’s upset that you referred to him as your ‘boyfriend?’ No. Fuck him. That’s fuck boy behavior. That’s a man who wants all the benefits without any of the commitment. You don’t deserve that. And this fucker doesn’t deserve you.

Sighing, you reach for your phone and unlock it, turning it around to present it. Kyle takes it, staring at the screen. There are texts upon texts from the guy, all of which you’ve left unanswered. It starts as an apology and quickly becomes angrier as he scrolls.

But you did answer him. It’s the very last message. You sent it just before you called Kyle.

We’re done, it reads.

And there is no answering reply. There are no pulsing bubbles to even indicate that he’s formulating a response.

Good. Fucking good.

Kyle extends his arm, returning the phone. You don’t lock it. You shut it down, tossing it onto the table. Placing the mug of tea down, you sit up, staring intensely into Kyle’s eyes. There is so much he sees there, but he won’t move first even though he wants to, even though he wants you to return to his arms so he can remind you just how perfect the two of you are for each other.

But sometimes memory and the movement of it are just the length of a singular breath.

Maybe it is Kyle that moves first. Maybe it is you. In moments—seconds—you are straddling Kyle’s lap, arms laced around the back of his neck, your mouths pressed together in perfectly wanton need, a reunion that shakes every bone in his body.

You are fresh air. Cold ice cream on a hot summer day. Strawberries with sugar and cream. Sweet. Perfect. And only for his consumption. That is always how it should be.

Kyle’s hands slide up your body, over every curve.

“I miss you. I miss you all the time,” you confess, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.

Your admission is validation.

“I’d never tell you to not call me ‘boyfriend,’” murmurs Kyle against your mouth before going in for another kiss. “I’d want to hear you say it all the time.”

His words are a promise. An invitation.

Take me back. Please. Choose me.

Your lips part and Kyle slides his tongue inside, relearning your flavor. It is heaven dissolving on his tongue. He chases it, chases you, until you’re tugging at his clothes, wanting them gone.

It doesn’t matter that this is your sofa. If you want him, Kyle will lay himself bare, let you have whatever the fuck you want. There isn’t much to remove from you, but once the two of you are bare and you are straddling his lap, Kyle gives all his love and attention to these next moments.

Your body briefly resists, and then it melts, allowing him entrance. Kyle wraps one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your lower back to support your weight as you roll your hips up and down his cock. His other hand holds onto the side of your throat, keeping your gaze on him as you fuck yourself on him.

It’s glorious. Perfect. You are so slick and warm around him. He never forgot, but the real thing is better than memory. Better than his hand in the shower or the dark. You are moaning, light and wavering and only for him.

Your fingers dig in, nails clawing but not tearing. On the next rock of your hips, Kyle slides deep, and the sound you make nearly snaps his control. He holds fast, hand sliding to squeeze your ass as your movements become frantic and with no purposeful rhythm. You’re seeking your end, and Kyle wants you to have it. He needs you to have it.

“Come on my cock, love. For me. Yes. Like that.” You squeeze and Kyle groans loudly. “That’s it. Fucking hell, love.

You turn your face into his neck to stifle the cry that erupts from your throat as your orgasm hits you. Kyle nearly finishes himself, your pussy a vice around him, claiming him. A shudder runs through your limbs, and then you’re nipping at Kyle’s neck and jaw.

“Finish inside me,” you whimper, drawing back enough to gaze into his eyes.

Kyle doesn’t need you to say it twice.

Changing position, Kyle slides both hands to the curve of your ass. Lifting, he shifts you until he’s propped up on his knees. Your legs drape over his arms, completely open for him. You cling to him and Kyle brings your bodies together over and over again.

He will finish—he will, but Kyle needs to hear that word first.

“Are you mine?” he asks between clenched teeth. It’s the only thing keeping him steady. He’s ready to snap, ready to release.

You nod and it isn’t enough.

“Say it.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

Kyle grinds his pelvis against you, rubbing perfectly across your already sensitive clit. You cry out, clench around him again, but still, he needs to hear you say it.

“What am I to you?”

“Kyle,” you moan, and he laughs.

“Not that.” A little spasm runs through you and Kyle feels it reverberate all the way to his brain. “Won’t give you what you want until you say it.”

You gasp as the next thrust punches the air from your lungs. “Boyfriend,” you manage to whimper. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Fucking right.

Kyle immediately takes you to your back on the couch, thrusting a few more times before pressing taut, sealing your bodies together as his own release overcomes him.

His mouth meets yours and Kyle’s body is singing, pulsing, and bright.

You are his.

You are his again.

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@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria

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supernotnatural2005 · 7 months ago

Text

Ain’t no party like a Halloween party.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You convince Dean to attend a halloween party and bring a childhood fantasy to life.

Word count: 2814

Warnings: SMUT! Fluff, Dean is easily manipulated.

AN: Happy halloween guys!!👻 What better way than to celebrate it with our favourite hunter!? 😂 I hope you enjoy some spicy, fun halloween themed times with Dean. Feedback is always welcome! 💕

My Masterlist

“Come on Dean. Please? For me?” You begged your boyfriend one last time.

You had been invited to a halloween party by an old college friend you still kept in touch with. Even though you were a hunter, you felt having a social life was important to, at the least, normalise the insanity a little.

“Don’t you think our lives are scary enough?” Dean groused as he continued his work on Baby. “Why’s this such a big deal to you?” He questioned you over his shoulder as he reached under the hood. You’d been bugging him about it for the last 24 hours, since you got that damn email.

“This is a party full of skanky versions of cute animals and hockey-mask wearing plebs. I don’t think it holds much of a flame to our lives Dean.” You countered. “Besides, it’s good to have fun once in a while.” You shrugged, as if that were obvious.

Dean stood straight and looked at you then, assessing your pout and that doe-eyed-look. The one that usually got him to say yes to anything.

Contemplation. His first mistake. Now all you needed to do was seal the deal. And so you stepped closer to him and slid your hands up his chest and around his neck.

“I promise i’ll make it worth your while.” You whispered, a hairs breadth away from his lips. His eyes widened in curiosity, he was intrigued. Second mistake.

“Please.” You begged once more, sweetening the pot by running your fingers through his short strands. His eyes fluttering at the sensation.

Got him.

“Ugh, fine!”

The power of seduction was such a wondrous thing sometimes.

“Ah, thank you!” You exclaimed excitedly and smushed his cheeks with your hands as you pulled his lips to yours.

“I promise you won’t regret this.” You told him as he stood with his lips still puckered, watching you turn and scurry away out of the garage. What had he gotten himself into?

Halloween Night.

You’d been incredibly secretive about what costume you were going to wear, since he’d agreed to go with you. No matter how many times Dean asked or guessed, he couldn’t get a peep out of you. He’d eventually given up on the third day and decided to just trust it was going to be, “a nice surprise.” As you’d put it.

So he sat patiently at one of the tables in the bunker’s library, waiting for you to finish getting ready. You had commandeered your shared bedroom with him and forbid him from entering until you were done. That was almost 2 hours ago. And Dean was beginning to get impatient.

He pulled uncomfortably at the collar of his white shirt, hating the item of clothing, even when he had to wear it as an undercover agent. But you’d insisted he did, along with a pair of his lighter, blue jeans, convincing him thoroughly the night before with that talented mouth of yours.

It was nearing on 7’o’clock by the time you made your appearance, that fact made known when he heard your voice.

“So, what do you think?” Dean’s head snapped up from his endless scrolling on his phone and he almost choked on his own breath.

Holy fucking shit.

There you were, dressed in a form-fitting little purple dress, with green accents. Knee-high lilac stockings and the highest pair of heels he’d ever seen, to match. Your hair wasn’t its usual colour either, instead it was a fiery orange, falling in soft curls against your shoulders. To complete the look, tied neatly around your neck was that famous green ascot.

Dean couldn’t quite believe his eyes. You were like a childhood fantasy come true.

You made your way over to him. Heels clicking loudly against the wooden floors before you came to a stop before him.

“You’re gonna catch flies, Winchester.” You smirked as your finger tips pressed up under his slackened jaw. He blinked out his stupor and shook his fog-filled mind.

“Y/N, sweetheart. You look incredible.” He told you truthfully and you couldn’t help but feel a little bashful. Truth be told, you were a little nervous for him to see the outfit. Considering Daphne Blake was one of Dean’s top fantasy women.

“To make it even more perfect. I got you a little something.” You reached into your matching purple clutch and pulled out a bright orange ascot tie.

Dean looked at the fabric and then to you and then back at the fabric again.

“I’m not wearing that.” He scoffed humourlessly, shaking his head.

Oh you poor naive fool.

—

You arrived at the party as it was in full swing. Sam had dropped the two of you off, since you were both planning on having a drink and Dean didn’t feel safe leaving Baby alone over night.

“Have fun kids!” Sam called out the open passenger-side window, snickering to himself at Dean’s warning look. You giggled too and waved at Sam as he pulled away before tugging on Dean’s hand.

He grumpily pulled at the tie around his neck, looking up at the modest colonial-style house, pumping out generic pop music and filled with people dressed even more ridiculous than he was.

“Come on grumpy. Let’s get some drink in you.” You suggested and pulled him along with you.

Once inside, you found your friend quickly and gave her a big hug. It was nearing on a year since you’d last seen her. She was married now, to a big time doctor and children were the current topic of conversation.

You were happy for her, even though a part of you saddened at the fact her life was one you’d never have. You loved Dean with all of your heart, but you also knew you both didn’t get ‘normal’. Which is why you suppose you clung to something as simple as going to a halloween party.

As the night drew on, Dean gradually relaxed, even more so with the help of the doctor’s good whiskey. He’d even pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor when Iron Maiden - Hallowed be thy name, started playing.

When a slower song began to play, Dean pulled you in close by your waist, yours instinctually wrapping around his neck. You were both glistening with sweat and gone were your ascots as you rocked back and forth.

“You know i get it now.” Dean began, leaning in close so you could hear him over the song. “I know our lives will never be all sunshine and rainbows, like Doctor Rob and Shelia’s.” You smiled a little at his nickname for Shelia’s husband. He’d been calling it him all night.

“But,” he continued and you met his sparkling green eyes. “I wouldn’t do this life with anyone but you. Whether that’s hunting demons and ghosts forever, or the white picket fence. Every scenario, i’d choose you.” He confessed and you felt your eyes well up and heart soar.

Instead of words, because you had none. You pulled him down for a kiss worth a thousand of them. However, what started out as a tender declaration of love, soon turned heated as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and suckled at the talented muscle, making his fingers flex on your hips.

He pulled you impossibly close as you all but made-out like a pair of horny teenagers on the dance floor. And gasped when you felt the hard length of him through his jeans.

“Fuck. You have no idea what this outfit does to me.” He tells you breathlessly, his hands gliding up your sides and around your back as he begins to kiss along the line of your neck.

“I think i do.” You pant at the feel of his sinful lips on your skin and expertly manovre a hand down between you both, to palm the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You hear him grunt into your neck as you subtly rub him through the fabric, tactically looking around for any watchers. Luckily the room was dark enough and everyone was preoccupied with their own partners.

“Follow me.” You whisper in his ear before slipping your hand in his and guiding him toward the stairs. He all but groans as you ascend, your dress having ridden up enough for him to see the bottom of your pert ass.

You navigate your way into a closed bedroom and flick on the light as Dean slips past you. It’s empty, thankfully and you lock it to be sure it stays that way.

Dean turns and lustfully drinks you in. Your lips are kiss-swollen and red, your hair beautifully tousled and chest heaving in anticipation. He still can’t get over how lucky he is.

“So do you regret this? Coming here?” You ask and Dean hungrily observes the sway of your hips, your legs, made longer by the ridiculous yet incredibly sexy heels and the way with each breath, how your perked nipples press against the material of your dress, as you saunter over to him.

When you’re within arms reach, he surprises you by pulling you to him, making you squeal in shock.

“I think you know the answer to that sweetheart.” Dean growls before cupping your cheeks and crashing his lips to yours. You moan at the intrusion of his tongue and thread your fingers into his short strands, pulling tight as he all but devours you.

He groans into your mouth at the feeling, pleasure boarding on pain. His hands grab and glide against your body before coming to a stop at the hem of your dress.

Dean suddenly pulls away, panting and pupils blown and you’re not much better.

“Now, there is something i’ve been curious about since the moment i saw you in this outfit.” Dean ponders and you tilt your head in faux curiosity.

“And what is that?” You play along, much to his amusement.

“Whether or not you’re wearing any panties.” You gasp as he roughly lifts your dress above your bare ass. His hands quickly smoothing over your pant-less behind.

“Oh you’re a naughty girl.” He chides playfully, and gives one of your cheeks a slight smack, making you inhale sharply and jolt into him. He soothes a large palm over the marked area before palming both cheeks and lifting you off the ground.

You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed, dropping you gently on the plush sheets. You stare up at him with a mixture of hunger and admiration, his eyes mirroring the exact same.

With his eyes locked on yours, he unbuttons his shirt enough to pull it over his head. The move is undeniably sexy and you clench your thighs together at the wetness rapidly gathering between.

He smirks at the movement and drops to his knees. His shoulders level with the bed and his head level with his own halloween treat.

You feel his hands on your hips before he pulls you along the bed and closer to its edge. You bite your lip and try not to blush as he parts your legs, pupils blown wide as he exposes you to him.

Your pussy is glistening and he can’t help but groan at the sight.

“Fuck. You’re beautiful.” He whispers, more to himself. Your mouth drops open and a sigh of pleasure escapes you at the feel his lips against the inside of your thigh. You drop your head back onto the bed, eyes fluttering closed as he repeats the process on the other leg.

“Baby, please.” You beg, each pass of his warm breath against your core, a torture you needed to end.

Thankfully he gives in and you’re crying out at the first swipe of his tongue against the seam of your pussy. From there on, he’s relentless. His actions hungry yet precise as he eats you out like man starved.

Your gasping and crying out in almost painful pleasure, your hand plunged deep in his hair, gripping and pulling as you grind against his talented mouth.

Dean’s moans and the lewd sounds of his mouth drinking in your wetness, have you coming apart at the seems in a mater of minutes. Your body convulses violently and your mouth opens in a silent scream as he continues to lap at the flood of your juices.

Eventually you have to push him away when you become too sensitive and fall to the bed, weightless and panting like a dog.

Dean crawls above you, rightfully smug and lips glistening. He kisses up your neck and jaw before reaching your lips and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

At the feel of the rough denim of his jeans against your fluttering core, do you push him away and sit up, causing him to stand between your legs.

You look up at him through your lashes as you unbutton his jeans and he brings a hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin and bottom lip. You lean forward to capture it between your lips, swirling your tongue around the digit as you unzip his pants.

Dean’s eyes flutter at sight, his bottom lip captured tightly by his teeth.

“Fuck baby.” He curses as you roughly pull his jeans down his thighs, boxers in tow, exposing him.

He’s hard as a rock, red and leaking at his tip. Your mouth waters at the sight of him and you make room for him on the bed to lie down after he kicks off his bottoms.

Once situated, you crawl to a kneel between his legs, keeping your eyes on his. You slide your palms up his muscular thighs, making Dean’s breath hitch and cock twitch against his stomach. You waste no time in grasping his steely length in your small palm, your fingers just about wrapping around him.

A deep moan comes from him and his head falls back against the pillows as you slowly begin to pump him in your hand. His skin glides smoothly against the weeping head and you clench your thighs, desperate for a taste.

You lean down and wrap your lips around his silky head, moaning at the sharp taste of him on your tongue. Dean’s a breathless mess above you, his mouth hung open and eyes crossing as you guide your mouth up and down him just as your hand had.

“Baby, baby. You gotta stop.” Dean pants above you, making you release him with a pop and wide eyes.

He cups your cheek affectionately with a breathless chuckle at the concern on your face.

“I’m not gonna last.” He explains simply but honest and you both chuckle.

“C’mere.” He pulls you into his lap and gathers you in his arms, smiling in wonder up at you. You return his smile and cup his cheeks in your hands before descending on to his plump lips.

In no time you’re back to breathless messes and desperate for more. You’re about to remove your dress when Dean’s hands stop you.

He pulls away, his cheeks tinged pink and a bashful look on his face.

“Leave it on.” He requests and you smile wide, but nod in understanding. You push him onto his back and hover above him.

His hands instantly find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them lovingly as he takes you in.

Breathtaking.

Your hands wrap around his cock as you position yourself above him, lining him up with your entrance before sinking onto him slowly.

You both moan in sync as he stretches you. The position angling him to reach all your sensitive spots. You find purchase on his chest as you slowly roll your hips. Your mouth falling open in pure pleasure at the feeling of him fully seated inside of you.

As you pick up the pace, you fall forward onto him, meeting his lips in a desperate clash of tongue and teeth. At this angle Dean’s hands grasp your behind and he begins to thrust faster, harder up into you.

You cry out, breaking the kiss, allowing him to take over and reach that sweet spot inside. Each thrust hits its target with practiced precision and it isn’t long before you’re trembling in his arms as your orgasm washes over you.

White, hot electricity ripples in your veins and you cry out at the feeling.

“Oh, fuuuck.” Dean’s quick to follow, grunting loudly into your ear as his body spasms in time with the release of his seed deep inside you.

You fall limply onto his chest, as you both catch your breath. Thoroughly sated and spent.

Minutes pass by before you’re able to lift yourself and meet his sleepy gaze.

“So. How would you feel about making this an annual thing?” You ask him, a smirk already pulling at your lips. Already knowing his answer.

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gpcwsl · 5 months ago

Note

Hey! First of all, i really like your work! And as a nonbinary person, i wanted to say thank you for using they/them pronouns, i appreciate it 🫶

Could i also maybe request a new years fic for wally? With Lia and r being the only single friends at the party, so they decide to pair up for a new years kiss at midnight. They are really good friends who are obviously in love with each other but too oblivious to realise until after the kiss

Lia Wälti x Reader:

Unspoken Love.

(warnings: kissing, not read through.)

MasterList.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to come to this party. It wasn’t exactly your idea of a perfect New Year’s Eve. A crowded apartment filled with strangers, endless small talk, and the kind of noise that made conversation nearly impossible wasn’t your scene. But Lia Wälti had asked you, and when Lia asked for something, it was almost impossible to say no.

So here you were, standing by the snack table with a drink in hand, scanning the room and pretending you weren’t counting the minutes until midnight so you could leave without it being socially awkward. Lia was at your side, as always, effortlessly charming whoever came her way. You admired the way she seemed so at ease, her laugh soft and genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.

But as the evening wore on, she stuck closer to you, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful. It was a well-known fact among your mutual friends that the two of you were practically inseparable. “Partners in crime,” Lia liked to joke. But to you, it sometimes felt like something more, even if you’d never dared to say it out loud.

She turned to you now, nudging your arm. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been staring at that bowl of pretzels for ten minutes.”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “Oh, yeah. Just… you know, soaking it all in.”

Lia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Soaking it in. You hate parties.”

“I don’t hate parties,” you protested, though your weak tone betrayed you.

“You do,” she said, grinning. “But you came anyway. For me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to deflect the sudden warmth creeping up your neck. “Don’t flatter yourself, Wälti. I came for the free snacks.”

She laughed, a sound that somehow made the chaotic party feel a little less overwhelming. “Well, either way, thanks for coming. It’s nice having you here.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them—soft, sincere—made your heart skip a beat.

As the night wore on, you found yourself tucked into a quieter corner with Lia. The two of you had fallen into an easy rhythm, talking and joking as if the rest of the party didn’t exist. At one point, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through old pictures of the two of you, reminiscing about shared adventures and inside jokes.

“Look at this one,” she said, showing you a blurry photo of the two of you from a hiking trip last year. You were both grinning, covered in mud from a fall you’d taken on the trail.

“That was your fault,” you teased. “You’re the one who dared me to jump over that puddle.”

“It wasn’t a puddle; it was practically a lake,” she shot back, laughing. “And you didn’t have to actually do it!”

“I was trying to impress you,” you said before you could think better of it.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you immediately regretted them. Lia’s laughter faltered, and she looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice teasing but her tone carrying something deeper, “I was impressed. Even if you did look like a drowned rat afterward.”

You laughed, relieved that she didn’t seem to take your comment too seriously. But the way she was looking at you now—her gaze lingering just a second too long—left your stomach in knots.

By the time the countdown to midnight began, the energy in the room had shifted. Couples were pairing off, whispering and laughing as they prepared for the traditional New Year’s kiss.

Lia nudged your shoulder, her expression somewhere between amused and resigned. “You realize we’re the only single people here, right?”

You glanced around, noticing for the first time just how many people seemed to be paired off. “Well, that’s not awkward at all.”

She tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “We could always kiss. You know, for the sake of appearances.”

You stared at her, your brain short-circuiting. “What?”

“Come on,” she said, laughing nervously. “It’s just a kiss. Friends do it all the time. Right?”

Your heart was racing now, your mind scrambling for something to say. “Right. Totally normal friend behavior.”

“Exactly,” she said, though her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “So, what do you say? Partners in crime, remember?”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “Partners in crime.”

The countdown began, the crowd shouting in unison. “Ten… nine… eight…”

You turned to face her, your palms suddenly clammy. Lia was looking at you, her usual confidence replaced with something more vulnerable.

“Three… two… one…”

The noise around you seemed to fade as she leaned in, her hand brushing yours as her lips met yours. The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, but then something shifted. It deepened, your hands finding their way to her waist, her fingers tangling in your hair.

When you finally pulled apart, the room erupted in cheers and shouts of “Happy New Year!” But neither of you moved, your foreheads still resting together, your breaths mingling.

“That…” Lia started, her voice barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t very… friendly, was it?”

You shook your head, your heart pounding. “No, it wasn’t.”

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her own filled with something you’d never seen before. “Maybe we’ve been missing something this whole time.”

“Maybe,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled back, and this time, it was her who closed the distance between you.

And as the new year began, you couldn’t help but think that whatever came next, it was already off to a perfect start.

(Hope this is what you wanted.) :)

#arsenal women #arsenal #lia wälti x reader #lia walti #lia walti x reader

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kbagraces · 11 months ago

Text

us. - LN4

Lando Norris x ex girlfriend reader

After your break up you battle with missing him and hating him. You’d always been his secret so why isn’t she?

Loosely based on us. by Gracie Abram ft. Taylor Swift

Note: not proof read, I wrote this on the train so it could be awful! It’s a little angsty be warned, I just love this song atm!

masterlist🏹

You had both agreed to not stay in contact after your break up. You both agreed it’d be easier for the both of you. You’re not sure if it was but you wouldn’t be the one to give in, always being strong minded.

You fear that trait was what made Lando fall for you was actually what caused the demise of your relationship. You never felt the end of the relationship was near, you were willing to put up a fight for the relationship, Lando however seemed to give in a little more easily. Going silent in the arguments, ignoring your attempts to salvage the relationship.

The relationship was a secret to most so grieving him was hard, lonely and the sadness you felt quickly turned to anger. You were filled with resentment as he left you hidden but he had no problem showing off his new flings.

Your one best friend who knew about the whole deal was tired of your wallowing and ranting decided to take you out for the night, an attempt at a distraction was anything but that.

The alcohol acted as a fuel for your rage filled yearning for your ex boyfriend. As soon as your friends back was turned your fingers slipped to the account of Lando on instagram. Having him blocked on every other social but you still kept tabs on his successes in the sport.

You typed the sad open ended message and hit send,

Y/n: I still don’t understand why you didn’t fight for us

An almost instant reply chimed up on your phone.

L: I couldn’t fight for something that was draining us both

Ouch

Y/n: I deserve an explanation not in the form of your ghosting. 2 years ending in one night doesn’t make sense.

L: I’m in London for fashion week if you needed to meet. I can meet you at the cafe.

You agreed, maybe you’d regret it in the morning but his every word seemed like lies to you now. Every good word he said about you, every time he pulled you out of pits of insecurity, you feared every i love you was a lie.

I show, you don’t.

How long was too long to wait. You sat abandoned once again at the cafe you used to once hold close to your heart, the spot where you first met was tainted once again by his lack of respect for you. After 45 minutes you lose all hope. Angry, hurt and embarrassed.

You’re a coward.

Seen 2 mins ago

Coward.

Later that night you’re scrolling mindlessly on instagram. Beautiful celebrities filling your feed from fashion week.

How much heartbreak could you take?

Newsource: Lando Norris spotted watching his alleged new flame walking at the Dior show this afternoon.

She’ll play her show and you’ll be watching

You’re fuming. How dare he? He’s making a mockery of you. Dedicating your time to him when he can’t even warn you of his absence. No explanation no apology, only to virtually go public with his new girlfriend when you were barley even allowed to tell your closest friends.

What he once told you was a protection tactic from his busy lifestyle fell into him actually being ashamed of you. How could he hide you for so long and now go public with a girl he barley knows?

And what seemed like fate, give it 10 months and you’ll be past it.

You slowly healed, after fully blocking him you began to move on with your life. Becoming more self assured, admitting to yourself that his actions shouldn’t reflect how you felt about yourself. You sometimes slipped into missing the good times, to quickly remind yourself you can’t always reminisce on the sometimes.

You can’t help but feeling partial joy when catching glimpses of the demise of his short lived 10 months he spent with his model girlfriend. You wonder if he regretted the day at the cafe, if he regretted the secret of the two of you. But that was his problem to deal with now.

Until missed calls were on the line. A Monegasque number rang through your phone, there was only one person it could be. One person who now regrets his actions all too late.

That night, you were talkin' false prophets and profits

Lando admitted to himself a long time ago that he made a huge mistake losing you. Using random models to distract himself from the guilt that surrounded his every thought. He knew he was a coward. You weren’t wrong. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t explain his reasons to you. He never wanted you to be a secret, it began out of fear for your well-being but became a habit. When you begged for his attention he had too much pride to go back on his word.

Now, nearly a year on his misses you more than ever. He found himself in his nightly routine of fighting the urge to call you. The night he gave in he was met with his biggest fear as the line rang out. No answer. He pictured you in his head, he imagined you scoffing as his new number popped up on your phone. Watching as his call rang out.

He wanted to messaged you, he was desperate to hear from you. Maybe he could undo all his damages.

Do you miss us?

You laughed at the question.

Another call rang through, but this time you answered.

He gave you numerous shitty excuses, about his pride, acknowledging his lack of awareness for your feelings, him being caught up in the lifestyle.

“I spent so much time wondering if you regret the secret of us. It’s too late Lando. You completely shattered my self worth. I begged for you, your attention. It was always work and money above me. If you had just read up on the signs perhaps you could’ve learned something.”

“I loved you best I could at the time I know it wasn’t enough but I know what I want now. I can be better.” His voice was small, the tables were turned on him now. He now knew this was how you felt all the times he put you second best.

How ironic.

“You’re incomparable Lando. Fuck. I spent every day chasing how you made me feel when we were good but it wasn’t enough I need 100% from someone. I’m worth more than your half assed love, excuses and an apology which was frankly far too late.”

“I know I didn’t give you enough. But it’s us. You and me, we’re chemical y/n/n. It’s meant to be us.”

“It’s not Lando, it was. And it could’ve always been. You took me for granted and I’m not letting someone make me feel that way again. I wish you everything still. And you’ll do great things just without me.”

Mistaken for strangers, the way it was

Years had past. You both flitted between separate lovers. No one compared. Both of you spent time regretting the secret of you. You hated him for not giving you his all and he felt the same was about himself.

You began to open up to your friends about the failed relationship, never naming him but acknowledged that he would always be the one you wanted but would never have.

When you saw him again it was beyond painful. Like strangers who knew everything about each other.

The London club lights shadowed his face, you wondered if he recognised you with your shorter hair.

He watched your every move. Turning away when your eyes glanced his way. You were more beautiful than ever if that was even possible. He was still celebrating his win. He’d concoerned the partying scene in Monaco and now was celebrating with his UK friends and team.

He has imagined you being in the crowd as he stood on the podium and wondered whether you were secretly proud of him. The champagne clouded his judgment. He rarely drank so the impact was almost instant. He left his private table making his way over to you and your friends.

You had your back turned as you felt a hand on your bicep, your friends had glazed looks over their eyes as they looked as if God himself was stood behind you.

“Y/n/n.”

“Lando.�� You smiled as you felt your friends, shriek at the interaction. Confused as to why this Formula 1 driver new you on a first name basis.

“Congratulations. You did it.” You broke the gap between the two of you pulling him in for a hug. You were proud. You still wished everything for him and were extremely over joyed when he won his first race. Something he’d be dreaming for your entire relationship, perhaps a factor that got in the way time to time.

“You know?” He was slightly surprised, unsure if you kept tabs on him anymore, probably not in the way he does to you.

“Of course I do. I’ll always be proud of your achievements. Especially this one.”

“Do you miss us?” He whispered looking into your eyes, the close proximity clouding his thoughts more than the alcohol was before.

You didn’t reply immediately, unfortunately the best times of your life was with him, but also some of your worst were because of him. It was the best kind of love, well sometimes.

“Do you regret the secret of us?”

Note: as always plz lemme know ur thoughts good or bad <3

#lando norris #f1 #ln4 #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #lando norris angst #f1 angst

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candycandy00 · 2 years ago

Text

Little Miss Nobody Part 3 - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’re a weak, lowly sorcerer who barely qualifies as an assistant, but you get the opportunity to work on a mission that includes THE Gojo Satoru. Unbeknownst to you, he finds you incredibly attractive despite privately looking down on you as a nobody. On the last night of the mission, he invites you to his hotel room.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Any feedback or comments whatsoever is greatly appreciated! Thank you to @doumadono for the name Mystigram!

Smut. 18+. Gojo x short/thick/curvy fem Reader. Rough sex, oral sex (69), implied bondage/use of toys, mention of Gojo being bisexual. Just pretend the Shibuya Incident never happened!

You allowed yourself to grieve for one week. You took time off from work and spent those days crying, yelling at no one about how much of an asshole Gojo was, and eating ice cream from the carton to numb your pain. Once the week was over, you cleaned up, went back to work, and returned to your normal daily life.

It still hurt to think about him, and despite your best efforts not to, you did still have the occasional intrusive thought. Sometimes you wondered if he regretted anything he said to you, or if he simply regretted ever meeting you. Sometimes you wondered what kind of mission he might be on and who was in his hotel room with him. Sometimes you dreamed about him, dreamed of his hands gripping your hips, his cock rough and powerful between your thighs.

In a weak moment you decided to check his page on Mystigram. A few particularly tech savvy sorcerers had made a social media site just for Jujutsu sorcerers. It began as a way for sorcerers to stay connected to their coworkers and share information, but it had grown to be something used for networking, planning social outings, and getting to know sorcerers from different branches.

You’d looked at Gojo’s page before of course, back before you met him, when you were just a curious fan. He mostly shared memes about Jujutsu society, pictures from the places he’d traveled for work, and photos of the various treats and desserts he discovered at different restaurants and shops. There were occasional selfies, almost always with his sunglasses rather than his blindfold, and a few photos of him with friends. He often had his arms casually thrown around Ieiri Shoko and Nanami Kento, with both of them generally looking annoyed.

You scrolled through his page, feeling desperate and pathetic as you searched for any sign that he felt anything at all about what happened between you. Even him sharing a vague, sort of sad quote or meme would have satisfied you. There was a four day period immediately following your last encounter where he didn’t post anything at all, but he could have simply been busy with work.

One of his most recent posts was a selfie of him pulling down his shades and looking at the camera with gorgeous, bedroom eyes. It was the first one you’d seen with his eyes clearly visible, and it made you ache in more ways than one. The caption read, “The real reason I keep my eyes covered is to keep the whole world from instantly falling in love with me!” What a Gojo thing to say.

His students had responded with laughing emojis (and in a couple of cases, barfing emojis). Ieiri Shoko commented with only a gif of a woman dramatically rolling her eyes. Nanami Kento commented with one word: “Disgusting.” You found the interactions charming, but also felt sad when you realized you’d never be a part of that group, a part of Gojo’s life. You’d never be able to casually talk and joke with him like the others did.

Just once, during a night when you couldn’t sleep, you actually wondered if you should have just let him keep using you for sex. You thought about the “weekend of debauchery” he’d mentioned and imagined what it would have been like. Did he really want to tie you up in his basement? And why did the thought of that make you wet?

You finally fell asleep right after thinking these things, and had a nightmare in which he kept telling you how unworthy you were to be his girlfriend, as he walked off with a glamorous, powerful woman on his arm.

When you awoke, you had renewed resolve that you made the right decision to walk away from him.

Nearly a month after your second time sleeping with him, you crossed paths with him on the street. He was wearing his blindfold, but he pulled it down as he stopped in front of you and asked how you were doing.

You wished he hadn’t. You didn’t want to see his eyes. You gave a vague, cordial reply and continued walking down the street, taking deep and steady breaths to keep yourself from bursting into tears until you could get far enough down the street to dart into a cafe. You bought a coffee just for an excuse to be there, but left it untouched on the counter and instead rushed into the restroom to cry in private.

Seeing him hurt. Hearing his voice hurt. The fact that he didn’t seem bothered at all, that he had absolutely no hesitation in speaking to you, as if you were just friendly acquaintances, hurt. Deeply. But you pulled yourself together, dried your eyes, and walked out of the cafe with your head up.

It would take time to fully heal, as all wounds to the heart did.

Three weeks later, you met a grade one sorcerer on a mission who asked you to have dinner with him sometime. His name was Haruto, and he was kind to you. Handsome in a completely different way than Gojo, he was respected and liked among the assistants for his down to earth attitude. You accepted the dinner invite, and soon after, the two of you began dating.

You liked him, but so far you hadn’t fallen in love with him. You kept waiting to feel that burning passion you felt for Gojo, that ache to be in his arms, but it hadn’t happened yet. Still, a slow burn romance might be a better fit for you, and you enjoyed Haruto’s company enough to date him a while longer and decide how you felt. It was clear that he wanted to be intimate with you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do that yet, not so soon after your experience with Gojo. But Haruto was patient, never pressuring you.

As time passed by and the season changed from autumn to winter, you thought less and less about Gojo.

****************

Gojo wasn’t dealing with the fallout from his last hookup with Little Miss Nobody very well. He’d went through several different reactions, from anger at her for saying the things she said to guilt for saying the things he said to her. At first he tried to convince himself that he’d done nothing wrong. He’d been honest with her about the sort of relationship they could have. His only mistake was in telling her that after fucking her again.

Just like before, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Despite being busier than ever with missions and his teaching job, his mind kept wandering to her. He worried she would do something reckless on a mission. She wasn’t a fighter, but she clearly wouldn’t hesitate to endanger herself to save someone. He admired the courage that took, but he found himself wishing she would just be a coward from now on. She didn’t have the strength to back up that desire to protect.

Sometimes he laid awake at night, jacking off while remembering their encounters. It was almost too easy to get off, picturing her with her hands tied behind her back, her face pressed into the pillows. Every time he wore his blindfold, he remembered how it had looked around her wrists.

Then, he saw her on the street one day. He spotted her from across the road, but she hadn’t noticed him yet. She looked like every wet dream he’d ever had, jeans tight over her perfect ass, a form-fitting sweater with a cutout right over her ample cleavage. She looked soft and squeezable. Pliable. His first thought was that he wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her. His second was that he wanted to hear her voice.

He crossed the road and approached her, trying to act as casual as possible. When she looked at him, there was an instant where she looked stunned, but she quickly covered that up with a pleasant smile. He pulled his blindfold down and said, “Hey, how’ve you been?”

It was petty of him, he knew, but he knew she liked his eyes. He wanted her to see them again, perhaps to make her want him again. There were plenty of hotels in the area and-

“I’ve been good,” she said, her face frozen in that same mild expression. “Thank you for asking.”

And then she was gone, walking away quickly and then going into a cafe down the street. He thought briefly of following her, trying to talk to her again, but abandoned the idea. She clearly didn’t want to talk to him, and he wouldn’t press her into a situation that upset her.

He’d left feeling frustrated, in several different ways. Finally, he grew desperate enough to talk to his friend about what was going on. But when he’d gone to Shoko for advice, she had been blunt with him as usual.

“Are you a fucking moron?”

He gaped at her. “Huh?!”

Shoko took a drag of her cigarette and regarded him with a withering stare. “You find a girl who’s sweet, brave, laughs at your shitty jokes, who fucking bakes, and likes it rough? And you manage to screw it up? You’re hopeless.”

Gojo was sitting on a bench in the outdoor area of the high school, near some vending machines. He leaned back, slapping his forehead as Shoko stood beside him. “I don’t know where I screwed up,” he said, “I just told her the truth.”

“You told her she wasn’t good enough for you immediately after fucking her. Do you think anyone wants to hear that?”

He glanced up at his friend. “I didn’t say that to her.”

Shoko met his eyes. “Did you deny it?”

He sat there silently for a moment, thinking. “I didn’t know how to respond to that,” he finally said. “I don’t think she’s not good enough for me. If anything, she’s way too good.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“It’s not about her as a person, or even me as a person. Maybe I’m being a narcissistic asshole. But I feel like I should be with someone closer to my level in terms of status, you know?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t know.”

Gojo sighed. “I just… can’t imagine myself with an assistant who can barely use cursed energy. She’s weak. She’s not from a sorcerer family…”

“Geto wasn’t from a sorcerer family,” Shoko pointed out. “That didn’t seem to bother you.”

Gojo looked at her suddenly. Shoko rarely mentioned their departed friend. “Suguru was strong. At one point as strong as me,” he replied.

“So?” Shoko asked. “A lot of people would call me weak. I sure as hell can’t fight.”

He stared at her, realizing she was making excellent points. Why did it matter what someone’s status was? He never cared about status when it came to picking friends, so why care now? Maybe he had to face the fact that he’d gotten too full of himself over the years. He’d started looking down on those who were weak within Jujutsu society, even if he felt no ill will toward them.

He looked at Shoko, who was a precious friend, and couldn’t imagine looking down on her, even though she was exponentially weaker than him. Then he remembered Little Miss Nobody’s crying face, and he realized how monumentally stupid he’d been.

“I seriously fucked up, didn’t I?”

Shoko exhaled, smoke drifting around her face. “Sure did.”

He leaned forward on the bench, resting his hands on his thighs. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”

“For starters, you better be damn sure of what you want,” she told him. “I’m serious, Gojo. Don’t toy with her again. Don’t contact her, don’t stir up her feelings, and for God’s sake don’t fuck her unless you’re sure you want to start something serious with her.”

Gojo nodded. “I’m sure.” He’d never felt more certain of anything. He saw her face everywhere he looked. He heard her voice in his dreams. He hadn’t even been able to fuck anyone else since her. He’d tried once and couldn’t finish, and boy was that embarrassing.

“Then call her,” Shoko said. “Apologize, tell her you were wrong.”

“I don’t have her number,” Gojo said, remembering with a small degree of shame how she’d shyly offered it to him after their first time together and how he’d rejected it.

“We can probably find it,” Shoko told him, digging into the pocket of her white coat for her cell phone. “I have a couple of friends who work at her branch.”

Gojo perked up, listening as Shoko called someone and made a bit of small talk before asking if they knew Little Miss Nobody. Shoko gave him a thumbs up, and asked the person to text the number over. Then he heard Shoko say, “Oh, she is? Right now?”

After the call ended, Shoko said, “They’re sending the number over but they said she’s in Tokyo right now. She’s supposedly meeting some friends for drinks at that bar for sorcerers in Ikebukuro.”

Gojo stood up. This was the perfect opportunity. He could talk to her in person, apologize properly and see if this could be fixed. He knew exactly where the bar was, having gone there to hang out with Shoko and Utahime just one week prior. He thanked Shoko for her help and hurried over to the bar.

It wasn’t very crowded yet when Gojo arrived. It was late afternoon, and customers wouldn’t start pouring in until at least seven. He scanned the room for her when he first walked in, and quickly spotted her sitting amongst several other sorcerers in a corner booth. She was smiling, and he was glad to see her happy.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a soda, then tried to keep from attracting any attention. It didn’t happen all the time, but occasionally people recognized him and acted like they’d seen a celebrity. He supposed he was the closest thing Jujutsu society had to a celebrity, and while he usually found it flattering to be approached in that way, today he hoped no one noticed him. He planned to wait for her to go to the rest room or even to the bar. He didn’t want to approach her when she was surrounded by people.

So he sat, and waited, and watched. After several minutes, he noticed that the man sitting to her right was a little too handsy with her. The man kept touching her arm and subtly leaning closer to her. Gojo didn’t like that, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was a little naive about things like that, so maybe she didn’t even notice.

But the more he watched and listened, the more a knot tied itself together in his stomach. She was also leaning toward the man, giggling at something he said, playfully slapping his arm. Then, the man threw his arm around her, and she smiled, doing nothing to push it away.

The realization hit Gojo like a punch to the face. She was with this man, romantically. Gojo was too late. He’d spent too much time being an egotistical jackass, and now she’d moved on. He couldn’t blame her. She had the right to pursue happiness with someone else. But where did that leave him? He sighed and lowered his head. For the first time in his life he considered trying to get drunk.

He heard chattering from her table and glanced over. Little Miss Nobody, as well as the rest of the women in the group, were leaving together. Something about going to see a movie together. Gojo moved to the other side of the bar before they got near, making sure not to be seen. He watched her walk out, and it felt like she was stomping on his heart with each step she took.

The thought occurred to him that he could potentially take her away from the man. If Gojo talked to her, maybe she’d decide she liked him more. But should he do that? She seemed happy. What right did he have to burst back into her life and possibly screw it up?

While he sat there, deep in thought, he almost didn’t notice the man she’d been with coming to sit at the bar, just a few seats down. But he did notice, and he couldn’t help paying attention to him.

The man’s friend, the only other man who’d been at the table, sat down next to him.

“Any luck yet?” the friend asked.

The man shook his head and took a drink from his glass. “Nope. She’s still holding out. I think she’s hung up on some ex boyfriend or something, but she won’t say it.”

Gojo’s ears felt like they were on fire. His full attention was now on this conversation, but he sipped his Coke and pretended not to be listening.

The friend laughed. “Sucks to be you, dude. You score a hot girlfriend and can’t even fuck her.”

The man laughed too. “I’ll wear her down. She’ll be sucking my dick soon enough.”

Gojo’s hand gripped the glass so hard, he had to force himself to calm down to avoid shattering it.

Then the friend said something else, and Gojo felt his skin prickling with rage.

“Don’t forget to record it when you finally get her naked. You promised you’d show off the goods.”

The man nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ve got cameras hid around my bedroom already. She doesn’t have a clue.”

“Good,” the friend replied, “cause I’ve been dying to see those tits for months.”

They both laughed, and Gojo stood up from his seat. He walked the few steps over to the two men and stood looming over them. He was wearing sunglasses instead of his blindfold, but he was still recognizable to most people who noticed him. The man she’d been with gaped up at him. “Gojo?”

Gojo grinned widely. “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys,” he said in a friendly tone. “Can you share those recordings with me when you make them?”

The men glanced at each other, looking like students who’d been caught smoking by a teacher who then asked for a cigarette.

“You… want me to send you recordings? Of my girlfriend?”

Gojo’s grin was probably becoming more frightening as the moments passed. “Well you’re sharing them with your buddy, right? What’s one more?”

The man shrugged, still looking a little uneasy. “Sure, why not? Give me your number.”

Gojo kept staring at him. “So she has no idea you plan to do this?”

The man must have mistaken Gojo’s slightly unhinged expression for perversion. He laughed and said, “She’s clueless. Totally naive. Wait till you see her! Huge tits, fat ass, cute face. She’d be a perfect porn star.”

The friend chuckled and added, “Hell, I guess she will be after this. We could make a fortune selling the videos!”

That was enough. That was all Gojo could bear to listen to. He’d let the guy dig a big enough hole for himself. “Call her,” he said in a low voice, and both men looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

Gojo’s smile was gone. He pulled off his shades and glared at the man. “Call her. Tell her you need to see her in private. It’s urgent.”

The man didn’t move, he just stared up at Gojo as if he’d sprouted another head.

Gojo leaned down. “I think she has the right to know about this, don’t you?”

The man looked positively horrified. A bead of sweat ran down his face. “You want me to tell her? I can’t do that! She’ll-“

Gojo looked at the man the way he would look at a curse that had just attacked him, and the man’s words died in his throat. Gojo put one hand on the man’s shoulder. “I said call her. Right fucking now.”

The man’s fingers were trembling as he pulled his phone from his pocket. As he began dialing, Gojo pointed at the friend. “And you, if you ever so much as glance at her again, I’ll rip your eyeballs out of your fucking head.”

****************

You were standing in line with three of your friends to buy tickets for a movie when one of them asked how things were going with Haruto.

“Okay I guess,” you answered. “I’m still not sure how I feel about him. I like him, but I don’t think I’m in love with him.”

Your friend Sumi smiled reassuringly. “Give it a little more time. You guys are still getting to know each other.”

Aiko, another friend that you had been on many missions with, sighed and patted your back. “You’re still holding out for Gojo Satoru, aren’t you?”

Sumi and the third friend Keiko looked surprised, and you instantly reddened. “Huh? Gojo? What do you mean?”

Sumi asked, looking from Aiko to you.

“They hooked up,” Aiko said, “twice.”

You looked at her with wide eyes. You’d never told her about that. “How did you know?”

She grinned. “Actually I just suspected it, but now you’ve confirmed it.”

You winced, but she laughed and went on. “The first mission we were all three on, you left the sushi joint with his arm around you on the last night. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Especially with his reputation. Then the second time, you two disappeared together in the middle of a mission.”

Sumi and Keiko stared at you for a moment. When you didn’t deny anything Aiko said, they launched into a string of rapid questions.

“How was it?”

You shrugged. “Uh, nice?”

“Is he good in bed?”

“…. Yes.”

“Does he really have a huge dick?”

You blushed, but nodded, and the girls made a squealing sound.

“I heard he keeps his sunglasses on during sex. Is that true?”

“I asked him to take them off,” you answered.

“Can’t believe you scored him twice,” Aiko said, interrupting the interrogation. “From what I’ve heard, he never sleeps with the same person more than once.”

You blinked. “Really?”

Aiko nodded. “Yeah, he’s a one and done kinda guy. Guess he doesn’t want to get serious with anyone. Speaking of which, you should be careful. Don’t get too involved with him. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to settle down, from what everyone says about him.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” You gave a vague answer. Aiko had no idea what had really happened between you and Gojo. You hadn’t realized that being a repeat lover for him was so rare. You wondered what the girls would think if they knew he’d invited you to spend the weekend at his place.

But all that was over, you reminded yourself. You and Gojo were over. You had more respect for yourself than to be flattered by a guy, even one as amazing as Gojo, wanting to use you as a sex friend.

Your phone suddenly rang, and you fished it out of your purse to see who the caller was, thankful for the distraction. It was Haruto, and you felt a little guilty that you’d just been talking and thinking about another man. You answered, and his voice sounded strained on the other end.

“I need to see you,” he was saying, the words coming out a little too quickly. “It’s urgent.”

“Right now? But we were just together,” you said, confusion building in your mind. You hoped he wasn’t just trying to get you in bed. His attempts had started to feel a little pushy lately.

“It’s important,” he said. “I’ve rented a hotel room near the bar so we can talk privately.”

“Haruto, I’m really not comfortable going to a hotel with you.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear,” he told you, his voice sounding frantic. “I just… need to talk to you. And it has to be in person. Okay?”

You sighed. “Alright. If it’s just to talk.”

After you ended the call, you got a text from Haruto with the name of the hotel and the room number. You told your friends what happened and waved goodbye to them before heading back to see what was so urgent.

As you walked down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, you felt a faint feeling of panic, like something might be very wrong. Had Haruto received bad news? Or perhaps he’d grown tired of waiting and had decided to break up with you. The thought made you feel relieved rather than worried, and you thought that was a bad sign for your relationship.

You reached room 404 and took a deep breath before knocking. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Haruto stood on the other side. He looked terrible! His face was damp with sweat, his skin was pale, his eyes darted about like a frightened animal’s. “Haruto?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

He stepped back and motioned you in without a word. When you stepped through the door, your breath caught in your throat.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was Gojo. No blindfold or sunglasses, which was rare, and his face looked deadly serious, which was even more rare. He stood up as Haruto shut the door behind you.

“Gojo? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Gojo’s expression softened when he looked at you. “I overheard your boyfriend talking to his buddy at the bar after you left. I think you deserve to know what he was saying.”

You looked curiously at Haruto. He wrung his hands nervously and looked at the floor.

“Haruto,” Gojo said, and there was a coldness to his tone that you’d never heard before. It was like that one word alone was the most terrifying threat in the world.

Haruto nearly jumped at the sound, then he finally looked you in the face. “Alright! Fuck it, I’ll admit it! I have cameras hidden all over my bedroom. I was gonna record us whenever I could talk you into sleeping with me!”

You stared at him, hearing the words but not processing them. “Record us? What are you talking about?”

“I was gonna make videos of you without telling you,” he said.

Gojo chimed in. “Tell her what you were gonna do with the videos, Haruto.”

Haruto was avoiding your gaze again. “I was gonna share them with my friends. And maybe sell them online.”

Ah. So that was it. He didn’t like you. He didn’t care about you at all. He just wanted to sleep with you, just like Gojo. Just like all the guys who approached you in high school and even now. Only this was much worse. He wanted to share your intimate moments with others against your will. Thank god you hadn’t slept with him.

You glared at him, your face feeling hot with humiliation and your eyes becoming wet. All this had to happen in front of Gojo! Haruto took a step toward you. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t-“

“Stop,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear another word. Stay away from me.”

He must have known you were serious by the look on your face. His expression changed from guilt to annoyance. “Fine. Whatever. I was only interested in you for your tits anyway. Not like you’ve got anything else I want.”

Gojo stepped over to Haruto and shoved him toward the door. “Alright, you can get the fuck out now, you useless piece of shit.”

Haruto flinched at the harshness of Gojo’s voice, and was out the door in seconds. Now alone in the room with Gojo, you turned your back to him so he couldn’t look at your face. You were already embarrassed enough.

“Thank you for warning me about him,” you said, trying and failing to keep your voice steady. You wanted to leave, but you also wanted to give Haruto enough time to be gone by the time you got down to the hotel lobby. You definitely didn’t want to run into him again.

You heard Gojo’s footsteps coming closer to you, then his voice, so much softer than before, asking, “Are you okay?”

Wiping your eyes, you turned to face him, surprised that he was already so close. “I’ll be fine,” you said with a fake smile plastered on your mouth. Then you stepped toward the door to leave.

Gojo suddenly grabbed your wrist. “Wait,” he said, “I was at the bar tonight because I knew you’d be there. I wanted to talk to you.”

You pulled your hand free of his gentle grip. Tears were still burning your eyes. “Please, I can’t handle this right now,” you told him.

“Handle what?”

“You telling me again how I don’t meet your standards but you’ll lower yourself enough to fuck me sometimes. I get it, okay? Just please leave me alone.”

Gojo just stared at you, a hurt expression on his face. “I guess I deserve that,” he said. “But no, I came to apologize. I was wrong. I was an idiot, a dumbass, whatever you wanna call me. I said a lot of stupid shit that hurt you, and I’m sorry. If it’s not too late, could we start over?”

Your heart was doing flip flops. You’d longed to hear him say those words, but… after what just happened with Haruto, you had to be more careful.

You looked away from him, not wanting to let him charm you with those beautiful eyes of his. “Do you want me as a sex friend?

Or something more?”

He moved closer, close enough to put his hands on your shoulders. “You’re all I can think about when we’re apart. I miss the way we talked during that first mission, the way you laughed. I want us to go back to that. I want to see where this goes. So I guess I’m asking if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

You turned away from him. “I’d love to, but I can’t be a secret, Gojo. If you can’t tell anyone about us-“

“I’ll tell the whole world!”

You looked at his face. “What?”

He looked totally serious. “I’ll tell everyone. I want everyone to know.”

You almost dove into his arms, but something held you back. “It’s easy to say that here, right now, in a hotel room. Will you still say that in the morning?”

He hesitated for a moment, and you felt that familiar sense of dread. But then he pulled out his phone and closed the distance between you. He wrapped one arm around you and pulled your face closer to his, then he kissed your cheek. At the same time, his other hand held up his phone and took a selfie of the two of you.

He pulled away and began tapping on his phone, leaving you stunned into silence. Then, your phone chimed. You pulled it out and found a notification that you’d been tagged in a post on Mystigram. With trembling fingers, you opened it to see.

Gojo had posted the picture of him kissing your cheek to his page, and tagged you in it. The caption read: “Me and my hot girlfriend! Try not to be jealous!”

Your eyes flew back to his face. He was grinning at you. The post started getting comments immediately.

Itadori Yuji: Congrats, sensei! 😁

Kugisaki Nobara: Ugh, she’s way too pretty for you!

Ieiri Shoko: Try not to fuck this up.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. But you had one more question.

“What made you change your mind?”

Gojo was laughing as he read over the comments pouring in. “Oh, it just took Shoko talking some sense into me. I was going crazy, worrying about you being on missions, wondering what you were doing, craving your homemade sweets… so I went to her for advice. She’s always had a way of making me see logic.”

“You told her about me?”

“We’ve been friends since high school. Of course I told her,” he said. Then he laughed again. “I told Nanami too but I don’t think he was paying much attention. I was mid sentence when he said, ‘Please stop telling me about your sordid escapades. I’m going to vomit.’ And that was all he had to say about it.”

He’d told his friends about you. He’d been worried enough about this situation to consult them. And he didn’t mind those closest to him knowing about you, even before realizing he’d been wrong. Those thoughts warmed your heart.

Before you knew it, you were crying again, so overwhelmed with emotion. Gojo dropped his phone on the bed and wrapped his arms around you. “So? Are we a couple now?” he asked.

You nodded against his chest, and his arms tightened slightly. “Great,” he said, stroking your hair. “Want me to fuck you?”

A laugh escaped your lips, and the tears stopped. You pulled back and looked up at him. “So romantic.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “I’ve been dreaming about rearranging your insides,” he whispered, his voice tingling in your ear. “Have you been dreaming about me?”

You kissed him back, tasting his lips. “Yes,” you breathed out.

“What were you dreaming?” he asked, his voice turning husky as his hands began to roam over your body.

“Ahh,” you moaned as he kissed your neck. “It’s… embarrassing…” You had been dreaming about him. A lot. Most of it had been quite filthy.

One of his hands slipped under your dress, rubbing up your bare thigh and then squeezing your ass. “Embarrassing? Heh. I’m gonna have to fuck that shyness out of you.”

That sounded fun, you thought, raising your arms to allow him to pull your dress over your head. You unzipped his jacket, your hands desperately trying to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

The jacket discarded, he pulled his black T-shirt off next, then stood back to look at you in your silky black underwear. “Seriously,” he said, “tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen, whatever it is. Any fantasy, any dirty idea that pops into your head. I wanna hear it.”

You looked at the floor and muttered something.

“What was that?”

You stepped closer and met his gaze. “I said… I want you in my mouth.”

His beautiful eyes widened, and there was a glimmer of excitement in them as he grinned and said, “Holy fuck, I hit the jackpot!”

***********

Gojo was lying on his back in the bed, completely nude, his naked girlfriend halfway across him, her warm, wet mouth greedily sucking his cock. He raised his head up to watch. He couldn’t imagine a more lovely sight than her soft, full lips sliding down his shaft.

He moved one hand down to touch her hair, just happy to have her within reach. She glanced sideways at him, her face tinted pink. How cute of her to be shy even while deep throating him.

He’d had plenty of blowjobs in his life, even given a few, but this… this was different. Was it because he’d formed an emotional connection to her? He felt so much affection for her that simply being touched by her at all felt far better than anything he’d experienced with anyone else.

Well, with one exception, but he wasn’t ready to think about that, to compare them. He’d tucked those memories into a neat little box in the back of his mind where they could remain untouched and protected.

But this wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste her too. He grabbed hold of her legs and swung them up and over him, so that she was lying face down on top of him, her head at his groin and his at hers. She gave a little cry of surprise and drew her knees forward to lift herself off him, but that only spread her thighs apart and gave him easier access.

“G-Gojo, what are you doing?” Her voice sounded so flustered. He could practically hear the embarrassed arousal.

“I thought I told you to call me Satoru,” he murmured, pressing his lips ever so gently to her heated, quivering flesh. She jerked, but he grabbed her hips and held her in place. He waited, feeling her taut legs relax slowly, giving her time to get used to this extremely intimate position.

“Don’t stare at me,” she said in a shy voice, then he felt her lips around his cock again.

“Oh I’m gonna do so much more than stare,” he said back, using his fingers to open her folds. “I’m gonna do so many embarrassing things to you…” He ran his tongue over her open slit, tasting the plentiful juices. She was drenched, and deliciously sweet. He felt her body twitch nervously, but her mouth never slacked off. He felt her tongue lapping at his tip, her soft hands squeezing wherever they could.

Her clit was so cute, sitting there so glossy with his saliva and her fluids, completely defenseless to him. His thumb rubbed over it, then he prodded it with his tongue, drawing circles around it.

She shifted, her mouth leaving his dick long enough for her to moan out, “Satoru… I’m… I’m about to…”

He licked her clit again, slowly. “You can cum first,” he said.

She wiggled a bit in his grasp, but then took him into her mouth again, stifling her own moans. She took him so far in it felt like he was being swallowed, and the little gagging sound she made sent shivers through his entire body. Now it felt like a competition, and Gojo never lost.

His tongue was on her clit again, and he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her thighs tremble on either side of him. He felt himself slide out of her mouth, and then her tongue was gliding over him from base to tip. He could feel his cock twitching under her touch, but he kept himself under control. Then, he heard her sweet little voice say, “Satoru… cum in my mouth… please?”

Fuck, she wasn’t playing fair! His breath hitched in his throat, a shudder rippling through him, but he wasn’t defeated just yet. He leaned up and lapped at her clit again, gently, slowly, feeling her clenching his fingers, and then he grazed his teeth over it, lightly pulling on the tiny nub.

She moaned around his cock, her legs shaking, and he knew he’d won. He kept pumping his fingers into her as she rode out her orgasm, her lips still around the base of his cock. With no more reason to hold back, he let the feeling of her hot mouth overwhelm him, and he came straight into her throat.

He let his head fall back onto the pillow as he panted, and she took the opportunity to turn her body around so that her legs fell off the side of the bed, her face still buried in his crotch. She waited until he was completely empty before she removed her mouth, but a few strings of cum were drizzling down his cock. He held his head up enough to look down at her as she licked him clean.

When finished, she straightened up, sitting on her knees beside the bed. She looked like an angel, or a goddess. How could he have ever thought he was out of her league? How did it take him so long to realize how amazing she was? He’d been a fucking fool.

He sat up in the bed and smiled at her. “Take a shower with me?”

She blushed. “A shower? I guess so.”

He laughed. “How are you shy after everything we’ve done? I had my face shoved in your pussy just now.”

She turned beet red. “Ahhh! Don’t say that! I was trying not to think about it!”

He stood up from the bed and pulled her into a hug, their naked bodies pressed against each other. “Do you still doubt how hot you are? You can’t even imagine how many times I’ve jacked off while thinking about you.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Really.”

She smiled then, and took his hand as they walked into the bathroom.

**************

You were still nervous about showering with Gojo. It felt like such a private thing to do, but he seemed really into the idea, so you agreed. He joked around as he turned the water on, pretending he didn’t know how to work the knobs and “accidentally” spraying himself in the face. He was trying to put you at ease, and it was mostly working. You found yourself giggling at his antics as you both stepped into the large, walk-in shower.

Before you could even reach for the small bottle of shampoo sitting in a tiny corner shelf, Gojo suddenly shoved your back against the glass shower door and kissed you passionately, his mouth overtaking your own. The steamy water was spraying both your bodies, soaking his shiny hair, running down his torso. Without even looking, you knew he was hard again, the large erection pressing against your stomach.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands slipped under your thighs, lifting you up so that your legs could wrap around his body. You were pinned against the shower door when you felt him push inside you, deeply, roughly, the way you loved it. Your back collided with the glass with every powerful thrust, an ache you’d been craving building between your legs as he pounded into you.

You were going to be covered in bruises after this, but that thought only turned you on even more. Gojo had that wild look in his eyes, the one that almost made you cum on the spot. You wanted him to break you. It wasn’t that you were a masochist. It wasn’t pain that excited you, but rather watching him lose control, seeing that unhinged expression and knowing you had that effect on him, that you could drive him mad with your body. The pain, the bruises, they were just the evidence.

Burying your face in his neck, you tried to muffle your moans, your breaths shuddering. He was making such lovely grunts and growls, his fingers digging into your soft thighs. You chanced a peek at his face, and he looked like an entirely different person from the man who’d just been joking around with you. His wet hair was partially covering one eye, the other practically glowing with uncontrolled lust, his lips parted, teeth showing as ragged breaths pushed through them.

God, he was beautiful. Frighteningly so. Inhumanly so. For the second time, you wondered if he actually was a god that had been banished to earth. He certainly fucked like one.

Your legs slipped from his waist, the water making it hard to keep your grip, and they dangled helplessly above the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was holding more of your weight as he plowed into you, every thrust feeling deeper than the last. Your arms were still around his neck, but your strength was failing you. You clasped your hands tightly and leaned your face up to kiss him. His mouth was hungry upon yours, his tongue shoving its way in.

When you came, your arms fell to your sides and your body went limp in his arms, quivering with pleasure as he kept fucking you. His grip on you tightened, and after several more minutes of being slammed into the glass door, you felt his whole body stiffen. Then, you felt hot cum shoot deeply inside you as Gojo groaned.

He stayed inside you for several more minutes, even after he’d finished cumming. It was like he didn’t want to separate from you, but eventually he pulled out and set you back on your feet. You legs gave way immediately, as if they were made of spaghetti, but Gojo caught you. He held you gently until you regained your strength, then he reached you the soap with a grin.

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine,” he said.

You laughed, taking the soap from him as he turned his toned back to you.

An hour later, you were both dressed and sitting on the bed in the hotel room, talking about what each of you had been up to lately. During a lull in the conversation, you leaned your head over on his shoulder and whispered, “Is this real?”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated, then said, “I keep waiting for you to say this won’t work out.”

He wrapped an arm around you. “I’m not gonna lie and say this will be easy. I travel a lot for missions, and my teaching job is important to me, but we can make it work. We’ll spend time together whenever we can. Speaking of which… wanna come to my place next weekend?”

You laughed, feeling the tension dissipate from your body. “For pancakes? Sure.”

“And debauchery,” he said. “Don’t forget the debauchery.”

****************

Epilogue:

The first thing you thought when you arrived at Gojo’s house was, “Holy shit, it’s huge!”

Gojo stepped up beside you and gave you a peck on the cheek. “That’s what she said.”

You giggled at his silly joke and let him lead you inside. The house was of an old fashioned design, with a closed in yard, sliding doors, tatami floors, the whole works. It was a sprawling estate that looked as if it would have dozens of servants roaming the halls.

“You really live here all by yourself?”

He shook his head as he laid out some slippers for you to change into, then pulled off his own shoes. “I have an apartment near the school that I use most of the time. I don’t use this place often, but this is a special weekend.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, looking around. Despite the classic design of the structure, it had modern furnishings. You were admiring a lovely vase on a glossy wooden end table when you noticed a large cardboard box sitting just inside the living room. It looked totally out of place, and Gojo noticed your interest.

“Go ahead and look inside,” he told you, a strange smile on his lips.

“Okay…”

You approached the box and pulled the flaps open, squatting down to get a good look. Inside was an assortment of items you couldn’t quite identify at first. But as you began pulling them out and looking more closely, your face began to burn.

“Are these… all sex toys?!”

Gojo laughed at your reaction. “Well, not all of them. There’s some costumes, handcuffs, edible underwear…”

You grimaced as you pulled out what appeared to be a riding crop, then the biggest dildo you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a skimpy maid costume, among other bizarre garments. “Why is all this stuff just sitting here in a box?”

Gojo rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair a bit. He looked oddly shy. “I ordered it all. I figured we could have fun trying a bunch of stuff, see what we like.”

That did sound like fun. You examined each item, sometimes having no idea what its function was.

Gojo sat down on the floor beside you, watching your face as you looked though the box. “If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, just put it back in the box and I’ll toss it. Or better yet, I’ll have it delivered to Nanami’s place.”

You laughed then, imagining the strait laced-looking man you met a few days ago opening a box full of items like these.

When you were finished sorting them into piles of “will definitely try”, “might try”, and “hard no”, you and Gojo both stood up. “So, are you going to give me a tour?” you asked.

Gojo gave you a somewhat menacing grin, his dark sunglasses blocking out your view of his eyes. “Sure. Let’s start with the basement.”

The End.

Tag List:

@snowprincesa1 @pandoraium @hitori979 @famousdestinyland @gloomysel @noodlejitsu @postmancat @lanecass @aquamarine001 @officialholyagua @lil-bexie @kisssatoru @tqd4455 @yoriichiskatana @karmcrim15 @pyschopotatomeme @whippedbyikemen @changingchances @1985bitch @ritsatoru @prophecyflame @haileycannotcometothephonern @creolequeen11210 @onyxino @crimsonmarabou @thick-skull89 @risuola @yourhotcupcake101

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #Gojo x you #satoru x reader

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victorbutnotreally · 7 months ago

Text

untitled.

Lee Minho x gn!reader

warnings: major character death, implied male reader, mentions of overwhelming thoughts.

A/N: I don't know what this is.

"Can I ask you something?"

Minho's voice broke you out of your thoughts. You were scrolling on your phone with your best friend laying on top of you, but your mind was elsewhere.

"Yeah."

You were surprised at how easily you answered. The burden of life only ever made you hesitant to do anything, but you were always at ease with Minho.

"Have you ever thought about us…in the future? Like, what it could be if.." he trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any immediate rejection before continuing.

"I mean, we get along so well and have such a great connection. Sometimes I can't help but wonder what it would be like to take things further."

He was scared you would hear his heartbeat, which seemed to break out the confines of his ribs.

But you? You were scared you'd lose him, you were scared things wouldn't work out between you guys, and you'd have resentment towards each other. And you couldn't bear to lose him. Ever. But you were using up too much of your energy to not make it seem like everything inside you was crumbling, so you didn't have enough left to tell him all this.

"No."

A simple word was enough to shatter his heart. You thought he'd figure out what you meant, but in his vulnerability, he didn't. You just hoped you wouldn't lose him.

"Oh."

The lump in his throat felt heavy. He swallowed, putting his cold face back on as he reopened his phone and began to scroll. "That's fine. I just wanted to ask."

You wanted to tell him. Your eyes were almost empty recently, and you didn't want Minho carrying such a burden. You brought your hand up to his hair, hesitant to pet it like you usually do. You decided to, but seeing him tense under your touch made you regret your decision.

"Min.." you called softly a while later, having finally got some of your energy back. He's fallen asleep on you. He looked so peaceful. Beautiful. You want him to be who you wake up to, and go to bed with, but your thoughts were tentacles pulling you away from him.

"I love you."

He didn't hear it. The tears felt painful in your eyes, and you felt like needles were poking the cartilage of your nose as you held back the tears. You sat up and carried him to bed.

"Good night, Min. I love you."

You could hear a sleep-filled response which sounded like a reciprocation of your oh so heartfelt confession. You'd tell him when he wakes up. You'd take him to see the cherry blossoms and you'd tell him. And you'd live happily ever after.

You would have, if he'd woken up.

#stray kids x male reader #stray kids #lee know x male reader #lee minho x male reader #minho x male reader angst #lee know x male reader angst #lee know x male reader fluff #lee minho x male reader angst

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d34dlysinner · 2 years ago

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🙇Hi yes hello very self indulgent request or whatchamacallit. But the Kings esp Beezlebub and lucifer, my bbygs, (Stolas too if possible 👉👈) first overall needing to asbord demon Lust event, with an afab me. Mc is kinda nervous and unsure about havin sex lmao, it doesn't repulse her or anything, but it follows the phenomenon of touch starved people wanting affection but when It comes to intimate moments they kinda freeze and get unsure. Totally not callin myself out rn

Understandable

MINORS DNI!

(Let's assume that MC doesn't instantly need demon essence)

Satan crawled on top of you. Eager to finally have you like this. He lined himself up with you and planned to push himself in until he noticed how stiff you were. He halted what he was doing and sat up straight on his knees.

"You're as stiff as a plank right now. Are you okay?", he asked. His actions and words really made you wonder whether he's really the great demon king of wrath. It made your heart melt seeing how he worried for you. He settled for holding you for a while. You could smell the scent of cat fur as he embraced you. He was just waiting until you were calm enough to relax before he dared to do anything.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't feel up for it..."

Mammon does the thing he always does with every partner he had. He waits and sees if they're prepared enough to take him. One of his hands was feeling along your sides. Rubbing up and down in a comforting way as he felt you freeze.

"If you're scared, we don't have to continue.", he says as he finishes with a promise that he will be careful when you both do continue.

He would wait until you're ready. If you're not ready at all he wouldn't even blame you. He can always settle for holding you once more.

Leviathan somehow knew that you were going to freeze as he pulled away from your neck and sat straight.

"I knew that this was going to happen. It's somehow weird how you can eye upon my frame with such lust and then chicken out the moment we're actually trying to do the deed."

He seemed harsh and very honest. It made you feel worse in a way and regret starting this. It wasn't until he noticed how hurt you were that he changed his demeanor. He started to hold your hands as his thumbs rubbed circles on the top of your hand. He kissed them before he decided to lay down and wait with you.

"We can continue when you feel like it... sorry.", he said that last part quietly. How you managed to make this king apologise. You'll never know. He probably did care a lot for you.

Beelzebub was kissing, biting and licking all over you before he decided that you were ready enough for him. He planned to push into you when he noticed that you almost stopped breathing. He halted what he was about to do as he checked up on you first.

"Are you okay?", he asked as he was drawing circles on the inside of your leg. He would lean in and give tiny kisses over your face as he waited for a response. When you tell him that you're not ready he'll lay down beside you and offer to watch some sort of movie to keep your mind of off things.

"We might aswell watch something interesting.", he says as he puts on a screen and allows you to scroll

Lucifer is one who would love to taste your tears again. He would abuse the situation you're in right now if he didn't fear you hating him. It also goes against what he wants to do with you. He said multiple times that he'd rather make you cry out of happiness and love. Sometimes he can't help it and he causes it with fear. He'll feel shitty afterwards, but always makes sure to make it up somehow. Not by apologising tho... that's too much for him.

He decided that it's best to stop at that moments as he takes a book to read. He'll read it for you if your interested enough.

Stolas himself would also get nervous when this is happening. So he sort of understand where you're coming from. It's not like he has absolutely no experience, but the connection he feels to you makes him scared to mess it all up. So he just stopped what he was doing when he saw you tense up and freeze.

"Look... We don't need to continue now... we can do it any other time if you're still up for it."

The only thing he hopes is that he's atleast allowed to be the one you're doing it with when you do feel up for it. He doesn't know what he'll feel or do when he hears that you just straight up went with another demon to do this with.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb satan #whb beel #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb lucifer #whb stolas

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jtks-gh05t-g1rl · 7 months ago

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୨⎯ "Trading 'I love you's" ⎯୧ Leviathan x fem!reader

word count: 1k

(I found this pic on Pinterest and just covered the name. Not proof read!!)

(adding my headcanons)

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Leviathan had always been insecure, this feeling was nothing new to him. He had always seen himself as less than, especially compared to his brothers. His brothers were so accomplished, so respected, looked up to. They had all built up a reputation and a life despite being hated and discriminated against when they had first fallen. Lucifer had created a reputation of being a loyal friend of Lord Diavolo. Mammon was friendly, extroverted, and fun to be around. Asmodeus was beautiful and kind to everyone around him.

When you first came to the Devildom he didn't like you. He didn't know you. He was rude and an asshole to you and he had always regretted it. Even though he acted like that he thought you were beautiful and didn't know how to approach you. He tried acting like Mammon because he saw how well you got along. That failed. It took, what felt like, years to reach friend status with you. When Asmo finally convinced him to confess to you, he felt like he had ruined it all. But when you said you liked him back his entire body froze. He was flooded by a feeling of relief and glee. Those five words had changed him, "I like you too , Leviathan.". The way you said his name made him feel like he was living a dream.

You made him feel more confident. You made him feel like he was worth something. Being with you made him feel like he could be the best version of himself. That's why he loves you. Although he felt all these great emotions , he still felt the overwhelming insecurities.

fast forward a couple of months. You and Levi are in his room, laying on his bed, your limbs are tangled with one another. You're both aimlessly scrolling on your phones.

Leviathans P.O.V.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I had the love of my life laying in my arms and yet this one comment still bugged me.

"LMAOOO HOW DID LEVI PULL HER???? no hate but bro cmon now."

I started at my screen for a minute. Hate comments aren't uncommon, they're even expected but they still effect me.

I look down at the girl, then back to my phone. I sigh and shut my phone off.

"Did I say that I love you today?" The girl asked. I looked down at her smiling.

"Yes, many times, baby."

"Okay, just checking." she said going back to her phone. I want to talk to her about what I saw, she would know what to say but I don't want to bother her. I try to gather the courage to say something to start a conversation like that but all that comes out is a loud groan.

"You okay?" She asked, her words had a heavily concerned tone.

"Hmm, yeah, I'll be fine."

"No pressure but you know we can talk if you want to."

"I know but- I don't know.." I had a sudden change of mind.

"Actually, I do want to talk."

" Go for it."

" I know hate comments are, like, apart of being a content creator but, even though they're expected, it still bothers me. Sometimes people make me feel unworthy of being with you. People are always talking about how they don't know why you chose me when you could've had anyone of my brothers."

"I chose you because I love you, Levi. Those people don't know you, I do. I do know you and I know how great you are."

"I know, I know but sometimes I still feel like your with me because you feel bad or something, like being with you feels so dream like, it almost doesn't feel real."

"Leviathan, I love you so much, you don't understand how much I love you. Your so amazing. I love so many things about you. I love how passionate you are and get about the things you love, the way you can go on and on about all your interests is so lovable. I love how you stay loyal to your faves. The way you get so excited to play a new game, the way I'm the first person you ask to play with you. I love watching you play your games and seeing how focused you are. I love everything about you. and you're beauty speaks for itself, I don't even have to mention it, but I will. I love the color of your everything. Your eyes are absolutely breathtaking, its like looking into a pool of gold. Your hair is so soft and the color is so gorgeous and they way it falls is so pretty."

"Fuck, I wanna marry you." The second the last word left my mouth, my lips were already on hers. She giggled into the kiss, making me smile harder then I have ever before. The next few minutes are filled with quick but love filled kisses and giggling.

I pull away from her. " Can I tell you something?" She nods. "You make me feel like I'm something. You make me confident, you make me want to be a better person."

"it's not the way you act on camera or in public that makes me feel like this, it's you. You make me feel like this. Don't get me wrong I love all of you but my favorite is when you let yourself be yourself." I let out a small laugh." I don't think I'll ever understand why you keep someone like me around. I mean you're just so amazing and you don't know how grateful I am that you entered my life. I said it before and I'll say it again, being with makes me feel like I'm dreaming, and if I am then I never want to wake up."

"but it isn't, right? You're actually mine, right?"

" yes, baby, I'm all yours." She said with a giggle that sounded like music to my ears.

"I love you so, Leviathan."

"You make me so happy, I could explode."

"I love you too, MC."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

hihi!! idk how I feel abt this one >-< lmk if you see any typos plzzzzzz!! also how would we feel about gender neutral stories, I'm more comfortable writing for fem reader but I'm down to try writing for gn!!

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #levi obey me x reader #om leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan obey me

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kxyera · 1 year ago

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How the Ghouls spend time alone (SFW) <3

All fluff, first time i've ever wrote something like this :)

Aurora

I know for a FACT this girl can draw. She can sketch, paint, reference, shade and draw in multiple art styles. She's incredibly proud of her art (AS SHE SHOULD?!) and always draws little sketches of the other ghouls when shes bored or alone. She sometimes rips the pages out and gives it to the ghoul she drew, they always fawn over it and thank her multiple times.

Cirrus

She's a doomscroller. Enough said. She has a screen-time of over 10 hours and is not ashamed whatsoever. She also loves online shopping, she spends at least half her time scrolling to buy things she cant and will probably never afford or wear.

Cumulus

THIS. GIRL. CROCHETS. SHE IS A CROCHET QUEEN. She especially loves making stuffed animals and makes the ghouls little stuffed animals for anti-christmas and their birthdays. They're always personalised and is colour-coded to the giftee's element (EG: Fire = Red wool, Water = Blue wool, Air = White/grey wool, Earth = Green/brown wool, Quintessence = Purple). She loves the time and effort spent in making crochet projects, and absolutely adores seeing the other ghouls' face light up when they're gifted one of her projects.

Sunshine

I feel like she'd just enjoy the alone time. She'd go on walks by herself, skipping and listening to music. She just loves everything and is literally a walking ray of sun. literally.

Swiss

He definitely plays loud music and sings along to it. Other ghouls either love it or hate it, depends on what time of day/night it is. He once woke up Sodo at 2am from it. DEEPLY regretted it. Has always stopped playing music at exactly 10pm after that incident.

Sodo

Depending on his mood, he'll either practice his guitar or go on walks. He almost always practices his guitar as he thinks its the only thing that will keep him focused in on something. He plays to get his mind off of whatever happened and he'll only goes on walks when he knows he needs to properly clear his head.

Mountain

He'd be a gardening boy. His room is full of plants and he knows the exact name of every plant in his room. He'd go out to the ministry gardens and sit underneath one of the trees reading. He's a calm boy.

Rain

You bet your ass if its a rainy day he's out there running around in it. Heavy rain? He loves it. Storm? No problem. Thunder? He'll jump at the large crashes of thunder, but find it to be music to his ears. He takes daily showers and the water has to be cold. He loves cold water (especially in the mornings) and he absolutely has a rainfall shower head. His spare time is spent damp.

Phantom

This little gremlin is a walking pile of chaos. He once baked with the ghoulettes when he was bored. Its safe to say he's now officially banned from the kitchen. Everytime he has spare time alone, he instantly goes to find someone to mess about with. He also plans elaborate pranks to pull on the other ghouls in the future. Yes, he has a notebook with all these plans.

Aether

He’s the type of guy that reads a lot of old novels, always has a book on him. He *loves* H.P. Lovecraft, especially ‘Call of Cthulhu’ and could talk about it for hours by a cozy fire if he had someone to listen

#aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #swiss ghoul #sodo ghoul #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #aether ghoul #domestic december ghost ghouls (sorta)#headcanons #ghost headcanons #ghost bc headcanons #ghost bc #kxyera’s headcanons

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fiftyfiftyfinchy · 5 months ago

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Static - Arthur Hill Fic

The café smelled like freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries, a comforting hum of conversation filling the air as Lily scrolled through the latest updates on her phone. Her manager’s emails were a minefield of deadlines and pitches, but Lily’s mind was firmly locked on the notebook in front of her. Scribbled lines of lyrics and scratched-out melodies littered the pages, proof of another restless night chasing inspiration.

She leaned back, letting her eyes drift to the bustling London street outside. It was one of those rare sunny mornings, and the city seemed to sparkle with possibility. Lily’s career was steady—producing tracks for up-and-coming artists while working on her own songs in the background. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept her dream alive. Yet somehow, life felt...static. Too many hours in studios, not enough in the real world.

The little bell over the door jingled, and Lily glanced up out of habit. That’s when she saw him.

Arthur Hill.

The Arthur Hill. Indie music’s rising star, known for his soulful voice and lyrics that hit you right in the chest. He wasn’t a household name yet, but he had a dedicated following and a buzz that promised bigger things. He was hard to miss with his brown hair falling just so and an effortlessly stylish coat that made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread.

Lily blinked, her mind racing through the improbability of it all. What was he doing here? This wasn’t the kind of discreet hideaway you’d expect a budding star to frequent. He ordered his coffee, his voice warm and melodic even in casual conversation, and Lily tried to remind herself to breathe.

To her horror, he turned in her direction, scanning the café as though looking for somewhere to sit. His gaze landed on her, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Lily’s stomach flipped. Then he smiled—a soft, genuine smile—and started walking toward her table.

“Excuse me,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words like a charm. “Would you mind if I joined you? Every other table’s taken.”

Lily’s brain short-circuited. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Arthur slid into the seat across from her, setting down his cup. “Bit of a madhouse in here, isn’t it?”

“It’s usually quieter,” Lily managed, cursing the slight quiver in her voice. “I guess everyone had the same idea today.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. “Lucky me, then.”

Lily’s cheeks heated, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her notebook, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But Arthur’s eyes followed the motion, and his brows lifted in interest.

“Songwriter?” he asked, nodding toward the pages.

“Yeah,” Lily said cautiously. She wasn’t about to start name-dropping her resume. “And producer.”

Arthur’s grin widened. “No kidding? That’s brilliant. You don’t meet many people who do both.”

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help but smile back. He seemed genuinely interested, not like he was fishing for an ego boost or making polite small talk.

“What kind of stuff do you work on?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his attention fully on her.

“All sorts, really,” Lily said, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to him. “Pop, indie, some experimental stuff. I like blending genres.”

“Sounds like my kind of vibe,” Arthur said. “You’ll have to play me something sometime.”

Lily’s heart skipped. “I’ll think about it.”

They talked for what felt like minutes but must have been longer. Arthur had an easy charm, the kind that made you forget the world around you. By the time they realized they’d finished their drinks, the café had quieted down considerably.

“Well,” Arthur said, standing and shrugging on his coat, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Lily.”

“You too,” she said, almost regretting that their encounter was ending.

But then Arthur paused, his hand halfway to his pocket. “You know, some friends of mine are meeting up later for drinks. You should come. It’d be nice to keep chatting—music’s always more fun to talk about over a pint.”

Lily hesitated. Was this a casual invite or something more? Either way, the idea of spending more time with him—and maybe meeting the people who inspired his music—was too intriguing to pass up.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Where?”

Arthur’s smile was dazzling. He pulled a napkin from the table and scribbled down the name of a pub. “Eight o’clock. See you there?”

“See you there,” Lily echoed.

As he walked out, Lily stared at the napkin in her hand, the realization sinking in. She’d just agreed to drinks with Arthur Hill and his friends. Whatever static she’d felt in her life, it seemed ready to shift.

I am quite tempted to keep writing this...let me know if you think I should xx

#arthur hill #kill hill #mummy's boy pod #uk youtubers #need more arthur hill content

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 1 year ago

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 2, Wave 3, Poll 11

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Ayda Aguefort-Dimension 20

Qualifications:

Autistic queer women/phoenix💜💜

She is Sapphic and canonically on the autism spectrum.

Propaganda:

She's an awesome autistic head-librarian who also happens to be the girlfriend of one Fig Faeth (pc of Emily Axford). She's cute, super-powerful, and her dynamic with Fig is one of the best romantic storylines I know💜💜

Ayda Aguefort (pronounced EYE-da) a half-phoenix divination wizard and head librarian of the Compass Points Library in Leviathan, a vast pirate city in the Celestine Sea, made up of thousands of shipwrecks all connected together to create a floating island. She is described as a resplendent and beautiful young woman, with a striking resemblance to her deadbeat father/legendary wizard Arthur Aguefort. From the knees down she has large, almost metallic golden talons, with digitigrade ankles. Her wings are deep red, turning orange, and as they reach yellow at the ends, flicker with little flames. She is noticeably not a harpy as she has has arms as well as wings. Her arms are tattooed with many orange runes on her dark human skin. Her eyes are pupils set into roiling balls of flame. She has a short shock of fiery red hair at the top of her head. She wears white linen pants with a pirate sash, a vest, and a bandolier which holds two scrolls. She also has two small books strapped under each arm where one might have guns. Ayda has experienced multiple reincarnations due to her abilities as a half-phoenix. She has lived in Leviathan for around 150 years, but is over 300 years old. In one of Ayda's previous reincarnations, she adopted Garthy O'Brien as her child. Her current reincarnation is seventeen, with Garthy now as her guardian. Her past reincarnations have left notes for her future selves to follow, as once she's reborn, she has no memories of her past lives. She previously believed herself to be only 175 years old, and has no idea what she did for the first 125 years of her life, as one of her incarnations destroyed all her notes in an attempt to start fresh. She regretted this decades later and began writing notes again. Ayda is autistic and can be very hard to read as she often behaves in a very transactional way and uses blunt language. Her eyes being balls of fire doesn't help. She's a very intelligent and accomplished wizard, and takes pride in her work at the library, although gets lonely sometimes and is desperate for a friend. She is always looking to expand the library with new knowledge, and asks a lot of questions. Before meeting the Bad Kids, she was very lonely, and is now very excited to have so many transitive best friends, as well as a super awesome/badass punk-rock tiefling bard girlfriend.

Kim Kitsuragi-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Visually impaired

Propaganda:

I dunno man. He's Kim Kitsuragi. There's nothing I can say about him that hasn't already been said. He's quiet and reserved and uncomfortable with emotions. He's a self-proclaimed Torque Dork who loves his car like a child. He listens to heavy metal music. He's a centrist. He's a homosexual. He's consistently given shit by everyone around him for his race, his sexuality, and his disability, and he's taught himself to respond to it with cold professionalism. He dresses in historical communist pilot cosplay. I love him with my entire heart.

#polls #poll #disability #disabled characters #lgbtq #lgbtq characters #id in alt text #lgbtq dcs round 2 #lgbtq dcs r2 wave 3 #ayda aguefort #dimension 20 #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium

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givethemsmut · 11 months ago

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Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Three | Where It All Started…

D O M ‘ S P O V

Slamming her door shut I rounded the car and slipped behind the wheel. The tension was so thick I couldn’t breath easy but maybe that was simply the anger talking.

I was tired of making her mine, fucking her senseless, marking her body with me, everything I could to make sure the world knew she was mine. Instead the world kept testing me and forcing me to prove it.

Our past was never going to stop haunting us.

Slicing through the silence I finally forced the words past my locked jaw. “How many ways do I have to make you mine? Every fucking corner there’s something or someone spitting in my face when it comes to you. Our whole damn lives. My name is fucking tattooed on your ass but you can’t tell me shit like that? Instead Blaine does?”

Her hand reached for my thigh, inching her way dangerously close to way we settle everything.

“It’s the past. He’s just trying to piss you off like he always has.” I could hear it in her voice, the way she skipped over the important stuff to spare my feelings. Tonight she saw the part of me she hasn’t before. The part that I keep locked away so no one gets hurt.

“No, the past is you fucking him, but the present is me trying to purpose when your ex drops by to let me know he’s already done that.” I fished the ring box out of my jacket pocket and dropped it in her lap.

I had rendered her speechless when she delicately picked up the box but didn’t dare open it.

“That’s why you went on all those dates, kept telling me we couldn’t be together, avoided sex until you couldn’t - to spare my feelings, right? Everything you did was fucking noble because it was to spare me. Only now it didn’t protect me for shit.” Pulling into our driveway I turned off the car and sat there waiting for her to get out so I could leave again. I needed to clear my head and dump the anger on the side of the road where it couldn’t lash out again.

“Dom,” I felt her hand squeeze my thigh before she tried to lean over the console between us. “Just come inside. Please.”

Twisting my gaze I started at her insulted, cold and emotionless. “Why, so you can fuck me into forgiving you? You have a good pussy but it’s not gonna work this time, mi amore.”

There was no doubt about it: we were toxic, manipulative, sometimes hurtful but everything we did was to spare some kind of pain. It made sense but all I wanted was space to be pissed.

Slipping out of the car she gave up and left the ring box in her seat instead. Peeling out of the drive way I drove nowhere, anywhere, with the music blaring and my mind knotted up.

I was going to ask her to marry me and Blaine already did. Not even that he did but she said yes.

I drove around until I stopped looking for a fight. My fists finally relaxed and my jaw unclenched when I turned into the driveway.

Inside, climbing the stairs I could see the warm glow of candles and immediately regretted not slumming it in a guest room.

Opening the door I saw the mess of candles and the purple lace thong peeking under the shirt she was wearing. No doubt my shirt. Fast asleep I quietly moved through the room, discarding my clothes except a plain shirt and my boxer briefs.

Siting down in our bed I scrolled through ignored texts when I felt her hands touched my back under my shirt. “You’re finally home.”

“I almost crashed at my parents. I’m not in the mood. I have to catch a flight tomorrow and get back to work. I just wanna relax while I can.” Slamming the end table drawer with the ring box tucked safely inside I felt her jump at the sound.

Her lips kissed my jaw and neck so lightly it almost tickled.

My hands gently pushed her back as I sat against the headboard and got control over her throwing herself at me. “Hey, I’m serious. It’s gonna take time to digest.”

Sitting on her knees next to me she spoke, explained. “I said yes but only because you were going to USC with Marie. I didn’t wanna be alone.”

I kept my eyes on my phone when I replied, “Should I pity you?”

“Dom. I have a past just as much as you do. It’s not easy just blurting out reasons to hate me. When does it come up in conversation?”

“After I told you everyone I fucked.” I felt her hand reach out, trying to touch me if the truth didn’t. Without warning she climbed on top of my lap, straddling me and stealing the phone in my hands. Tossing it in the bed next to us she guided my hands to her tits as she adjuster herself on top of me.

“I’m sorry. Blaine was your biggest archenemy, I wasn’t trying to make it worse. I should have told you, okay? I never thought we would be here.”

“Doesn’t matter now. I wanted to be the first you said yes to.” My voice was tired and lazy as my hands dropped from her chest. “I’m gonna go to bed. I gotta be up early to shower before my flight.”

“Dom. Just let me. Please,” her hands shook, fisted up in my shirt and her hips trying to sway so softly I wouldn’t notice.

She was hurting the same way I was. It was taking every ounce of me to stay strong and say no. I didn’t wanna push shit under the rug, not about this.

Her hands snuck under my shirt, trailing up my abs and her back curved just enough to outline everything I wanted to see in the dark.

“Is that what you want? You want me to lay here and be a good fucking dildo? I was going to ask you to marry me. You can’t fix that with your greedy fucking pussy.” I leaned back taking off my shirt and adjusting myself in my boxers for her to reach in and take me out. I was going to force her to take what she wanted and I wasn’t about to make it easy.

“I want you to stop caring about the past when I’m right here on top of you. I want the easy part to stay easy. I wanna be your wife. Blaine was a fucking back up plan and when I couldn’t tell you I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

My hand reached up into her hair, pulled her head back, and watching her nipples perk through my shirt. “How did he ask? How many times did you fuck him and lie about it?”

“He asked in bed after I let him fuck me. How romantic, right?” She flicked a thin tear drop off her cheek with her finger before rolling her hips just enough forward to collide with my semi hard dick.

“I hate you for saying yes to him… I could have killed him. I want all the ways my cock ruined you to ruin you for everyone else. I want my name on your ass and my name carved into your heart to fucking matter. How many more ways do I have to make you mine?” Pushing her down on the bed I slipped between her legs and my palms held her hands above her head. “When are you going to be just mine?”

Pressing my crotch into her lace panties I felt the urge to bury this fucking fight creep up my spine. I wanted to fuck her until she cried my name and begged me to stop. I wanted to coat her greedy pussy in me and call her damaged goods.

Pulling my shirt off with one hand I watched her hips try to hump nothing. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you. Everything else was a distraction.” Her mouth kissed up my abs, my chest, until she trailed kisses up my jaw too. “Always been yours. Even when I wasn’t.”

Her hand dipped below the band of my boxer briefs as we kneeled so closely I felt poisoned.

Working her hand up and down I nearly folded over when I fell to the bed just for her to follow. Pulling down the band enough for me to bounce out I watched her bit her lip at what she did to me.

“You see what you do to me?” Dragging my hand down myself I watched her sit back on her heels like she was about to worship.

Her lips parted and I heard how her doctor spoke to us like love sick teenagers who would needed to slow down. “Fuck, you aren’t cleared. We can’t baby.”

Her hand on my chest she leaned into me, “We’ll use a condom or whatever. You leave tomorrow.”

“We can’t, mi amore. She said we can cause more damage. I need a cold shower. Fuck.” I groaned the last of my words before pushing to the edge of the bed with my feet back on solid ground.

“Dom,” her expression collapsed like I rejected her for fun. “You can’t be serious.”

Leaning against the doorframe I watched her sitting back on her heels with her legs just open enough to make you wonder how wet she truly was. “We’ve gone this long. A few more days won’t kill us.”

“Might not kill you. You’re leaving, again. And for how long this time?” Her fingers kept pulling the sides of her thong trying to get her hips under control.

I could practically taste how aroused she was on my tongue. She was killing me but if I took any steps to close the gap between us I couldn’t be responsible for fucking her senseless.

“A week. Max. I’ll be back as much as I can.” My hand skated down myself and I squeezed my own length trying to find any kind of relief.

“I wanna come with you. She didn’t say I couldn’t travel… I don’t wanna be home missing you. Wouldn’t anyone on the roster die for a girlfriend who legit has nothing keeping them from going with them?”

My thumb brushed my nose thinking of excuses to hand feed her. “Do you know how much harder it’s going to be to not fuck? You aren’t cleared for a reason.”

I watched her lay back against our pillows defeated, pulling her panties down and shimmying out of them. Her back arched and her head went back in this silent whimper I could almost hear while her hands roamed her own body.

I wanted to ask her what she was doing but I didn’t want her to stop. Her bent legs fell apart and I watched her hand disappear between her legs.

Fuck me.

Her soft moans and pants sang to my dick when I squeezed myself again inside my boxer briefs even though it wasn’t helping any.

“Mi amore,” I begged her for something but I didn’t even know what anymore. I wanted to fuck, fight, anything I shouldn’t be doing.

An unmistakeable moan poured for her mouth when I heard my name. She was testing me on purpose and it was working.

Kneeling on the bed I let my hand run down her leg, watching her fingers frantically circle her clit like it was any kind of replacement for me. “You know nothing makes you come like me. It’s pointless to try…”

I could see her face flush with frustration knowing I was right. Nothing was going to be me, not even her own hand.

She was going to have to suffer just like me.

#dom mysterio #wwe #wwe fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #dom mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio fanfic #dom mysterio fanfic #dominik mysterio x reader

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