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cxrsed-angel · 11 months

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Cheer Skirt Misap: Hazel Callahan x Reader Smut

word count: 1k

summary: Hazel finds your new cheer uniform attractive. Particularly the skirt and how short it is.

Warnings: Oral (r receiving), Hazel is an ass girl, slight spanking, hazel doing sexual activities when’s she probably shouldn’t be. After that fight. Reader is more feminine. 18+ MDNI

A/N: I watch bottoms 2 months ago and i haven’t stopped thinking about her and ruby cruz since, so here’s this. Also reader is a cheerleader. I wish I could come up with a clever title. Also Hazel gives me service top vibes.

Hazel is sitting on your bed. She’s trying to listen to whatever you are talking about, but she can’t focus on anything besides how hot you look in your new cheer skirt. The skirt is white with blue and red on the bottom, falling just above your thigh. You had gotten the new uniforms for the big game against Huntington. She watches you move around your room, getting ready for the game, her eyes lingering on your legs and how short the new cheer skirt seemed compared to the old ones.

“Pj was such a dick the other day. I mean, saying that about your mom was so out of line, babe, and I mean, you didn’t make a fake fight club to have sex with cheerleaders. You actually cared about female solidarity and everything. And you’re literally dating a cheerleader on your own accord without lying-“

You pause your rant about PJ, turn around, and see Hazel sitting in your bed, staring at the lower half of your body. It’s clear she isn’t paying attention. You walk closer to your bed and see her bruised face from the fight at the pep rally. You frown, knowing she probably had some sort of concussion that was making it hard to focus.

“Hazel? Hazel, are you okay…do you need to lie down? Am I talking too fast?”

Hazel looks up at you with her blue eyes bruised black and purple, but they’re still big and bright as she looks at you.

“I-um, no, I was just thinking about something else.”

You sit beside her on your bed, your thighs touching hers in her black jeans. Hazel's eyes linger on your upper thighs again before tearing her eyes away. She feels her heart beating faster in her chest, trying not to stare at your legs, trying to ignore the ache in between her thighs. She feels a bit guilty being so turned on as you look at her, so worried and concerned.

“Oh? Thinking about what?” You see Hazel look a bit flustered at your question, and you relax a bit. You could tell it wasn't something bad, but you were still intrigued about what was on her mind.

“Um. I was just thinking about you and how you look cute in your cheer skirt,” she tells you the truth partially, slightly nervous and embarrassed to admit that your skirt had turned her on so much.

You smile at the compliment. “Oh, thanks, babe! We got new cheer uniforms since it's like the biggest game ever, but they are a bit shorter.” You get off your bed and look at the skirt through your mirror. It’s a few inches shorter than your usual cheer skirt. You thought you got the wrong size at first, but they just ended up being that short. “I'm glad we were shorts underneath, or I would literally flash the crowd.”

Hazel smiles, laughing a bit at your comment, eyes still gazing at your lower half. “Well, it looks really good on you. Maybe shorter skirts make you more aerodynamic, help you fly up higher or something.”

Hazel suggests innocently when she knows thats probably not the reason your skirt is so short it's almost showing your ass considering your team’s pep rally performance. You laugh a bit, smiling at her reasoning.

“I really don't think that’s the reason, baby.”

She toys with the bottom of your skirt lightly as she continues. “No, I think it is! Maybe it could help with the-the air and going up and-and flips and stuff because there less..fabric?”

Hazle tries to justify but fails, making you laugh more. You find her attempt cute, though. Her blue eyes linger on your thighs again, gazing at them before she pulls you onto her lap by your hips, quickly kissing your lip-glossed lips suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath at the unexpected kiss, closing your eyes and melting against her the familiar feeling of her lips. You feel Hazel’s hands grasp your hips tighter as she kisses your lips, pressing against each other. Your arms go around her neck.

You break apart from the kiss slightly, looking at the playful smile on her lips and her face flushed and red, her eyes wide as she looks back. You can tell she’s turned on, and if her gaze didn’t give it away, her hands creeping up under the skirt did.

“You’re really happy over these aerodynamic skirts, huh?” you smile at her, knowing that was not the reason she couldn’t keep her hands off you. You could tell it was because of how the shorts showed off your legs and a bit of your ass.

Hazel pulls you against her passionately. Your lips crash together, kissing you again. She pulls you by your hips back on top of her. You feel her hands lightly moving down your back. She can’t keep her hands off of you, but you move your lips off slowly as you realize how things are progressing. You stare at Hazel, hesitant when you remember.

“Hazel…are you sure you can do…more strenuous activities? You know you were beat up pretty badly, babe.” you look concerned as you sit up, moving off of her. You move off from on top of her and sit back on your bed.

She nods excitedly like there is no problem, like she didn’t get the shit kicked out of her the other day and is perfectly okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine. I’m like almost 100% better anyways.” Hazel tries to sound sure, but you can tell she isn’t. You nod, still not fully unconvinced. You saw the fight and know she had taken quite a beating, and the last thing you wanna do is make it worse by having sex.

You pause, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Babe, I really don’t think we should be doing anything. Plus, we have to be at the football game in like an hour.” Hazel nods, pouting her lip a bit as she thinks. You watch her fidget with her silver rings as she thinks of a solution, clearly not taking no for an answer.

“Oh! Wait, wait, I got it.” Hazel looks excited, her blue eyes excited. She lays down on your bed. “I’ll just eat you out.” You pause, thinking for a few minutes about her solution,

“I don’t know Hazel…what about you-”

She cuts you off, hungrily kissing your lips as they press against hers. She cups your cheek and slips her tongue in your mouth. You melt instantly, feeling that warm feeling you get every time you kiss. After making out for a few minutes, you feel her pull away, your head a bit dizzy from the kiss.

“Please let me eat your pretty pussy. I promise I’ll be fine,” Hazel begs as she looks at you, slowly rubbing circles on your hips. Her words go straight to your core, turning you on.

You look at her and give in, unable to resist her big blue eyes. “Fine, but you’re stopping the second you get dizzy or something feels off.” Hazel nods as her grip on your waist tightens as she looks up at you excitedly.

She pulls your black lacey underwear from under your cheer skirt and throws them somewhere off in your room. You lean down and cup her face with her face, your lips crushing onto hers again, making out. Hazel moves her hands down, lightly squeezing your ass. Her lips linger, touching against yours as she looks up at you.

You move, placing your hips over her face. You look at her as she stares back excitedly. You slowly lower yourself on her lips and waste no time licking around your wet and puffy folds. She licks along your lips slowly, and you gasp at the feeling of her tongue. She continues moving her tongue as you try to hold your hips, trying not to thrust them, Hazel’s injuries still in the back of your mind. You moan out her name as she sucks on your clit.

“Fuck Hazel, please don't stop.” you close your eyes, grabbing the side of her sheets and slowly rolling your hips against her lips.

She grips your ass under your cheer skirt, squeezing it. Her tongue slips inside your entrance, and your moan grows louder as her motions speed up slightly, eating you out like she’s starved. Your face grows hotter as you feel the arousal building; you feel yourself getting wetter under her touch. She places a smack on your ass, and you moan, not expecting to like it as much as you did.

“Fuck, baby! I'm close!-yes, right there! Fuck Hazel!”

Your back arch letting out a breathy moan as your orgasm gets closer. You thrust, moving your hips faster as she swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. You feel yourself coming undone as your orgasm hits. Cumming around Hazel’s lips. You breathe deeply and slowly move from on top of her, sitting in your bed. Hazel sits up, her chin wet and lips swollen.

You look at her, wiping your wetness off her lips. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy, or do you have a headache?”

Hazel smiles and shakes her head. You nod, still catching your breath. You feel her hand on your thigh, rubbing it softly, feeling her cold rings on your skin.

“Yes, I’m fine; never been better.” She beams, happy from her previous activities. You kiss her lightly before standing up to finish getting ready for the game against Huntington. Hazel leans against her arms, watching you in your bed.

“But after I feel better, I’m gonna have to fuck you in that skirt.” you turn around at her words, a bit shocked at how bluntly she put it.

“Oh? You are. And eating me out while I'm wearing it isn't enough?” Hazel shakes her head lightly.

“No. I mean, it's good enough for right now, but the thought of watching you bounce on my strap in that cute little skirt is making me feel a bit foggy and extremely turned on.”

You nod as you return to putting on your makeup for the game. “Well, get a doctor’s note, and we can make that happen.”

#angel writes #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x fem reader #wlw fanfic #hazel callahan smut #bottoms fanfic #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie 2023

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coco-loco-nut · 4 months

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Book Club - Part 9

pairing: grid x reader

summary: you just got your wisdom teeth out, just in time for winter break fun with headcanons

a/n: thanks for the request, I missed the club❤️ ALSO! the original post just hit 1,500 notes??? like guys🥹 ilysm, you don’t even know. you are still reading my silly little writings, and i appreciate that more than you know. every like, comment, and reblog is the reason we are here 9 parts later (seriously you should see how happy i am when i see comments)

requests open masterlist

——————

- You didn’t tell anyone else on the grid other than Lance, obviously

- They were all surprised when it was announced that you were going to be missing Abu Dahbi

- Your oral surgeon only had that Wednesday free before Christmas

- …and let’s be real, your seat was secure, you weren’t going to win the WDC, and the constructors championship was locked in

- You would raise hell if you couldn’t enjoy the food around the holidays, so missing the last race it was

- You were exhausted from the season and appreciated the early break

- Lance just let it slip to the drivers on Friday a couple of hours after he got there

- You were sitting at home with Kimi, swollen and in pain all Friday

- “What do you mean she won’t be here? We have our presents for her” Fernando pouts

- Charles one day ships you cases of his gelato with a note telling you to feel better, he’s trying to get into the club for the gossip

- Lance gets invited to the club meeting to his surprise

- He assumes that they want to check in on you, despite them blowing up your phone

- No, he was VERY wrong

- Lance got roped into showing them videos of you on drugs

- Their favorite was the one of you when you first came out from being under

- “I’m married? Oh my god, I married Nico Hülkenberg? This is the best day of my life”

- You were sobbing tears of joy

- Nico was sent the video immediately, you gave him permission via text to post it the next day

- The second favorite was your favorite to laugh at

- You went on a massive rant about how Susie Wolff is a MILF and how you hoped Toto could fight because the female driver was your woman crush and you WILL have her

- Susie loved the video (George and Lewis sent it in the Mercedes family gc), Toto… not as much but he was amused

- You got a lot of fussing drivers on Facetime during the meeting

- You were loopy af from the painkillers and general exhaustion during it, it wasn’t your fault they called you late

- Kimi forced them to shut up and hang up so you could sleep

- Carlos joked about being relieved that there wasn’t another race for you to follow his trend during an interview

- You won the first race the next year

- Your phone started blowing up with messages on social media wishing you a quick recovery

- Most of the book club showed up to your home after Abu Dahbi, wanting to make a quick stop to check in before the break

- “Hello, wife,” Nico greets you when he sees you

- You joked you were about to file for divorce from Lance, who just sighed and went to get you a carton of LEC

- You had to film you opening your secret santa gift and send it to the F1 social team

- You got a quilt blanket that had a square for each book you read with the club since it started

- You actually started sobbing (you blamed the meds, even if you were actually crying)

- Lewis got the biggest hug ever, he enlisted help from Valtteri for all the books

- You forced them to cut the parts of you crying out of the video

- You got Logan an old iPod full of popular music (you hacked into his phone to check the genres he liked) from his childhood and now

- Obviously you added headphones and a couple chargers

- Logan used it all the time, he called you immediately to thank you

- You had the honors of choosing the first book over winter break

- You chose an F1 romance novel

- Boy oh boy were those meetings fun, just tearing up the book for its inaccuracy

- Daniel vowed to write an accurate one and sell it

- Spoiler Alert: he never did

- But Fernando did

- It was an international bestseller

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #f1 grid x reader #daniel ricciardo #george russell #logan sargeant #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #valtteri bottas #lewis hamilton #fernando alonso #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #book club #book club is back #silly little headcanons

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formulaforza · 1 year

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—the seasons of love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[18 minutes later]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not for you,” you goad.

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

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

“Fuck off.” You first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s different,” you grumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

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

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“–We aren’t friends.”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Eleven minutes later)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watching what matters.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

It won’t be happening again.

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

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runawrites-blog · 29 days

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Deadpool Being A Girl Dad Would Include 🌸

-Wade Wilson is the biggest Girl Dad™️ and anyone who disagrees can fight me on it

-Of course, he would have been happy about a boy just as much as a girl but when you came back from a doctor’s appointment to tell him he’d have a daughter he was overjoyed

-When you ask him if he’s crying and tell him how sweet he’s being he just tells you to fuck off and you just hug him tightly

-He buys his daughter so many stuffed toys, going through the whole animal kingdom, then buying unicorns and dinosaurs, too

-He loves painting your daughter's nails and he lets her paint his nails, proudly walking around with his colourful nails and showing off how he matches with his baby girl

-speaking of matching, he will wear clothes that match the ones your daughter is wearing and it won’t matter what colour or motives they have because he’ll gladly wear matching Hello Kitty sweaters just as much as he’ll wear a matching dinosaur shirt

-You have to lecture him on safe sleeping and not letting his daughter sleep in a bed full of stuffed animals

-From the day that he found out he'd have a daughter he was going over names every day, looking them up online, asking his friends about their opinions and overall being very imaginative

-Some of the names were better than others but eventually, you two came to a compromise

(-I personally headcanon his daughter's name to be Bea after Bea Arthur from Golden Girls because in the first Deadpool, he wears a shirt with her face on it, I just needed to share this)

-He adores dressing his daughter in cute outfits, not necessarily in the sense of dressing her in puffy dresses or clothes covered in bows, but in clothes with cute prints

-Wade gets that a baby needs comfortable clothes but that doesn’t mean they can’t have cute kittens on them or be brightly coloured or covered in a glittery print

-He would also totally let his daughter choose what she wants to wear, letting her pick the wildest mix-matched outfits ever

-When his daughter gets old enough to actually understand what books you two are reading to her, he goes out of his way to look for ones with positive female role models

-He buys books where the girl saves the day, where the female characters are strong and independent, where they have agency and big dreams because he wants his daughter to know that she can be anything she wants to be and that she can do that on her own

-That doesn’t mean he isn’t protective because if any bad guys catch wind of the fact that he has a daughter and threatens her, he’ll go ballistic on them

-Spends hours watching Barbie movies with your daughter and then dances around the flat singing along to the songs with her while she pretends to be a princess or fairy

-Wade tries to learn how to do your daughter’s hair and spends countless hours on the internet, looking up tutorials on how to do elaborate hairstyles

-He is always distraught when he can’t get it right and you have to come in and help him

-Totally has tea parties with his daughter and her stuffed animals

-He’ll also be super interested in her hobbies, be it football or ballet, baseball or horseback riding, he will let her talk his ear off about it

-Speaking of ears, when his daughter wants to get her ears pierced he goes with her and lets her sit in his lap so she won’t be afraid but it’s actually him who ends up flinching more than her when he sees her little face scrunch up in pain

-Then he’ll buy her twenty new pairs of earrings while you go on telling him that the piercing needs to heal first and she won’t be able to wear them for another month or so anyway

-Wade is the Dad his daughter's friends feel safe around, and they ask for help if anyone makes them feel uncomfortable or unsafe

-loves watching stereotypical girl shows with her, like My Little Pony or Winx Club

-listens to boybands with her

-has pyjama parties with her where they paint each others' nails, watch romcoms, eat popcorn and do face masks

-Wade is the Dad who loudly cheers his kid on during school functions, big games, dance recitals, you name it and he never misses one of these events

-If he has to show up in full Deadpool gear so he will make it on time then he will

-When his daughter gets older and gets her first period, he panics a little but when you sit down to talk to her about it he is there to reassure her, too

-never embarrassed to buy pads or tampons for his daughter and brings home her favourite sweets to make her feel better

-imagine him standing at the cash register in full Deadpool getup buying menstrual products and chocolate for her

-he is also very good at getting blood out of clothes, so that comes in handy, too

-he will teach her self-defence, showing her all the ways she can protect herself, verbally and physically

-insanely proud when she managed to take him down and slam him onto the floor

-isn't the biggest fan of going shopping but will do the stereotypical dad thing where he sits down and lets his daughter put on a full fashion show to show off her new clothes

-he knows what it's like to feel insecure about your looks so if his daughter ever feels insecure or not pretty enough he will actually sit down to have a serious talk with her and tell her how beautiful he thinks she is

-has the sweetest nicknames for her, from regular ones like "Honey" to things like "Light of my Life" or "My Little Princess"

#textpost #writing #my writing #marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu x reader #fanfiction #deadpool #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson headcanons #headcanons #deadpool is a girl dad and i will not take criticism on that #no y/n #deadpool x reader #kid fic

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ahhhsami · 10 months

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Mizu’s Womanhood

I keep thinking about how well Mizu’s story was written. A huge factor that makes me love the show is how they show Mizu’s abilities during fight scenes, but don’t forget that she is a woman. On the surface level people could see these fights as amazing action sequences, but there’s so much story being told at the same time. And that’s what makes an action sequence truly great (Warrior HBO is another example of amazing storytelling through fight choreography. Ah Toy's fight against Cleaver and Hammer comes to mind right away when comparing).

We start off by seeing Mizu tear through young men in Shindo Dojo. Her skills are showcased as agile, flexible, fast, and based on her ability to use her body in ways that are fluid. She’s tested as soon as Taigen enters the picture. He’s physically stronger than her, shown in a multitude of ways throughout the action sequence from him throwing her to him pushing her down to her knee, but she’s still more skilled. She uses his weight against him, which she will do in every fight during the series. Mizu beats him due to her agility and speed. On top of that, it is the first time we see a man assume victory be his downfall. And it will happen on multiple occasions.

Episode 2 comes around and Mizu is tested again, but this time by 4 opponents and one who is significantly larger and more trained (Chiaki). Mizu's smart, evaluates her situation, and changes her surroundings by jumping down onto the cliffside. It doesn’t put her at an advantage, but at least she’s not at a severe disadvantage. It allows her to fight mainly one-on-one which changes her circumstances. But it doesn’t win the fight for her. What does is her resilience, adaptability, and skill once more. Once again, in the fight, the man opens himself up for a counter during the finishing blow. Chiaki ran forward, his guard completely down because he was sure he’d won like Taigen.

Episode 5 is where we get to see Mizu struggle due to overwhelming numbers. She’s forced into a corner, but the weapon that saves her is the Naginata. Naginatajutsu has been most associated with female samurai. The added range was a huge advantage and allowed women to protect their homes when their samurai husband were gone. I love that Mizu's first time using the weapon extensively was in a situation where it wasn’t her own life on the line, but also the women of the brothel. It showcased the connection between the Naginata, women, and protection in a beautiful way. Also, her using it during these circumstance felt like she was reclaiming the weapon from the traumas she had experienced during Mikio's betrayal. The parallels of Mizu not just being demonized for her blue eyes, but also for being a woman was stunning in this episode.

In Episode 6, we see Mizu almost lose to the big club man (Okiyama). We see her completely overpowered by the size difference. Okiyama can pick her up easily, throw her, and she’s unable to parry him properly. For the first time we truly see the difference between a man’s strength and hers (which will also be present against Fowler). The fact that both Fowler and him pick her up, and attempt to crush her with their bare arms is so powerful and as a woman, it’s a striking parallel to the real world and the powers of men. She was going to lose the fight if not for her last ditch effort, that also could have resulted in her own death with the bomb. It shows her willingness to sacrifice everything for the quest she's on. And at the end of the episode, Fowler manhandles her completely. It doesn’t matter that she’s injured, it doesn’t matter that he has a gun. What matters in that scene is that he takes pleasure in using his power. He destroys the weak and he lords over them. He uses women as sex slaves. He cares for no one but himself. He is the perfect representation of what Mizu as a woman has to fight against.

There’s no fight scene in Episode 7 of note, but what is important is Mizu’s acceptance of her appearance, whether it be the blue eyes and sharp features, or her womanly features, all of them had once been sources of pain for her. The heart sutra scene is stunning and one of my favorites of the entire series (even if her little toesies were most likely being burned to be so close to the makeshift forge).

And finally Episode 8. We get to see her fight Fowler. I have multiple gripes with the structure of this fight, but it still represents Mizu’s womanhood in a way that continues the flow of the series. Mizu has to use everything to take down Fowler and even when she does she is still overpowered by him. He mirrors Okiyama, easily lifting her and using his strength over her instead of skill. And the line “your bones break like a woman’s” shows the societal norm that men associate with women being weaker, fragile, and unable to withstand what men can. It's fitting of the time period, but also current day too.

But hubris is the man’s downfall in this series because as soon as he lets his guard down, she takes her chance. She breaks free, her rage, need for vengeance, and essential reason for being at this point drive her to beat him. The single line “Oh my dear, that’s your white half showing,” doesn’t just target her being mixed race, but also being a woman. Fowler doesn’t let up there though, he calls her eyes pretty. And not just because they’re blue, but because they’re of a woman’s. He brings up unwanted daughters and digs the knife deeper. And these last lines from Fowler represent everything that Mizu has been combating, everything that has been driving her. There’s so much to her character. The writing in this series shows how multiple compounding factors contribute to a person's drive. And in this instance, it shows how being a woman and half-white has lead to Mizu’s self-hatred and it’s beautiful in such a destructive way.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #I have my gripes with the show but Mizu's character is not one of them lol #Love her/them so much <3 #Taigen #Fowler #Chiaki #Okiyama #long post

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freelancearsonist · 6 months

Text

I Was Fixed On Your Hand of Gold

➔ Lucien Flores x afab!Reader - 1k

➔ When Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander. OR Lucien uses his fingers for good evil underneath the table at dinner with your friends.

➔ Rated MA for exhibitionism kink, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby), references to smoking/nicotine use, no use of y/n, reader has female anatomy but no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

➔ i don't know anything about this man other than that he looks scummy and i'm in love with him. thank you to the dieter bravo brainrot club discord server for feeding my madness and to @shakespeareanwannabe for proofreading this incoherent horny babble <3 title is from 'would that i' by hozier wow what a surprise another cece fic named after a hozier song

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

It’s growled so low in your ear that you could almost believe it’s imagined. But with the way his fingers are dancing against your burning skin, tracing little circles along the length of your thigh, there’s nothing but intention in his voice–regardless of how raspy and deep it is.

Eager fingers push your skirt out of the way, impatient yet calculated. He moves slowly and with deliberation, careful not to show anything above the tablecloth.

“Don’t ignore your friends, baby,” he murmurs low into your ear so only you can hear.

It reminds you of where you are, and why this can’t happen right now. There’s five other people gathered around the table, all smiles and camaraderie and little sips of cheap wine. It’s been a good evening, really. But they’re your friends, not Lucien’s. He won them over within five minutes of meeting them and he’s been bored ever since. And when Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander.

It’s wrong and you should really stop him. You should push his hand away before his nomadic fingers can climb any further up your thigh than they already have. But he finds the wet spot that’s pooling against your panties, and there’s no denying how much you want it.

It takes every ounce of your restraint not to moan when he finds your clit. It’s like his fingers gravitate to it, like there’s some kind of magnetic pull–even through the barrier of your panties, the cocky bastard doesn’t struggle at all.

He doesn’t even blink. His thick, practiced fingers swirl against the seat of your panties with ease and he doesn’t react even remotely when his fingers immediately come away soaked.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, watching him chuckle at the story your best friend is telling across the table and all the while pretending that his greedy, heavy fingers aren’t pushing your panties aside to swipe through the gathering slick.

Your knee jolts before you can control it and knocks against his thigh, thankfully not causing any noticeable disturbance to the rest of the table’s occupants. But the look he gives you is enough warning–head tipped down, dark eyes impossibly darker, jaw set. He looks dangerous, and it makes your traitorous cunt soak his fingers even further. He’ll only tell you once: if you can’t sit still, you’ll be going home aching and unsatisfied.

You need to come so bad in this moment that you feel like you might cry–so, despite feeling rather like a scolded child under his gaze–you lock every muscle in your body to the best of your ability and let the horrible, delicious onslaught continue.

You swallow thickly when you feel the first real press of his finger. It swirls from your clit down to your entrance, and that’s all the warning you get before he slowly, torturously presses it into your cunt.

He lets it rest, just for a moment, knuckle deep–he knows that even this single finger is a slight stretch. After a moment or two to adjust, he withdraws completely and you have to fight back the whine that builds in your throat. But before you can betray your impatience he’s back, overwhelmingly so, two fingers pressed deep and curled in the exact way that he knows will make you shatter. It’s cruel to do this to you right now, to find that most sensitive spot when you can’t moan or even shudder in reaction to the delicious onslaught of pleasure.

His fingers are relentless–there’s a skilled craft to the way his arm stays completely motionless while his middle and ring fingers flutter and scissor against your g-spot.

Your thighs shake from the sensation the closer he brings you to release. As much as you try to ignore it–to focus on the current story about something that happened in a grocery store parking lot last Thursday–he’s bringing you to the brink so fucking fast that there’s no denying it. There’s no hope for composure, especially once his calloused thumb joins in to swirl tight, rapid circles over your clit.

Above the table, you make eye contact with one of your closest friends and laugh breathlessly at the meaningless story they tell. They never even suspect that below the table, you’re squeezing and fluttering around Lucien’s hand as the most intense orgasm of your life sweeps through you.

It takes a solid few moments for you to be able to breathe normally again. And Lucien, the smug bastard, just leans back in his chair and spreads his leg comfortably, free hand resting behind his head in the most casual manner possible like he didn’t just make you come all over his fingers. And then, when he’s sure no one is looking, he brings his right hand up to his lips and sucks his fingers deep into his mouth–looking directly into your eyes as he does so. He licks every drop of your cum from his digits so carelessly in front of your friends that it nearly makes you come again.

You think he’s had his fill. Your head stops swirling and he laughs along with your friends and you think he’s done. You’re wrong.

He takes your hand in his and laces your fingers together, guiding you ever-so-slowly to palm him through his loose sweatpants. His cock is straining, hard and insistent, against the thick cotton fabric–it makes you squirm in your own seat a little bit.

He’s impossibly casual about your touch as he wiggles a half-spent pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.

“Go ahead, baby,” he mutters right into your ear. “Take care of your fuckin’ mess.”

And who are you to decline after he so generously took care of you?

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores smut #lucien flores fanfiction #lucien flores one shot #the uninvited #cece writes

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worldofkuro · 5 months

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XIII

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Ladies and gentlemen be very careful because this chapter challenged me in a way I didn't know it would. There is smut. Who would i thought that I, Me, MOI, would write smut haha... I hope you'll enjoy it either way because it's my first time writing a coitus scene.

You stared at the body in front of you. You were almost scared that he would open his eyes and you would have to fight once more. You could take him. You knew you could and you would. Even if he was crawling from Hell, you would shoot him once more.

“ Is he…dead?” you whispered, never shifting your eyes from the man. There was so much blood pouring out of him. How were you going to clean him? How were you going to explain his wounds?

You gasped as you were tugged into a warm chest. You lifted your eyes to see Alastor beaming at you. He began to dance with you, making you twirl in the snow while singing a song you used to dance to in clubs. You laughed as he nuzzled his nose against yours. You closed your eyes as you let him guide you in his dance, lifting you in the air before caging you in his arms.

“ You were perfect, dearest ! I don’t think I could have thought of a better performance !” he kissed your face multiple times without stopping as you laughed heartily. You cupped his face between your hands, looking at him with all the emotions you could conjure. “ Now dearest…”

He put you down before taking something out of his pocket and you couldn’t help but gasp as he kneeled in front of you. Alastor was kneeling. You knew him from his younger age and he was too prideful to show any kind of humility, ever, and yet there he was, in front of you, all bruises, bleeding from his nose and lips, kneeling in front of you with a red little box in front of you.

“ This is your last chance to run away” he scoffed “ but you know now that I can catch you.. But I’ll let you believe you have a choice.” he smirked at you, opening the box, showing you a golden ring.

You laughed, shaking your head, as if you would say no to him no. You smiled as he slid the ring on your finger, watching him as he kissed it and then tugged you against him, kissing you like a mad man.

You cupped his face as you kissed him feverishly. You needed air, but you didn’t want to break away from Alastor, you wanted his lips against yours. You pushed your body against him as he laid you down on the snow. Your kisses still tasted like blood but you didn’t care. You were rolling your body against him, wanting to feel him closer, more than ever. You were feeling hot like lava even though you were against the cold snow.

Without even being aware of it you spread your legs so Alastor could settle between them. You moaned as you tried to push your hips against him, making him groan against your tongue. You nipped at his lips as his hand settled on your waist, going under your shirt. You gasped as you felt his hand caressing your skin underneath the bloodied shirt.

“ Dearest… If you keep sounding like that…” he panted, staring at your face with dilated pupils. He was staring at you as if he wanted to devour you. Maybe that should have made you scared but you felt more excited than you expected. You clumsily took off your shirt, throwing it on the snow, keeping your eyes on Alastor. You felt your nipples harden because of the cold but you didn’t care. You only cared for one person right now and it was yourself.

“ I want my dear husband to claim me for himself.”

You bit your lips as Alator took off his jacket, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while staring at you like you were his prey. You did read books about sex, but you were still nervous. Would it hurt? Would Alastor enjoy it? Would Alastor enjoy your body?

You moaned as you stared at Alastor’s torse. He was beautiful. His scars were decorating his lean muscles, his arms were flexing with every move he was doing. You blushed as you felt a wet substance on your panty. Were you really that excited because Alastor was shirtless?

Alastor stared at you, moving slowly, like stalking a prey, or waiting for you to say you didn’t want anything that's happening right now. You needed to satisfy him. What were the books saying…?

You quickly took off your pants, being only in a pair of bra and panty. From what you have read, men wanted to be inside women as quickly as possible. You blushed furiously but you wouldn’t back down now!

Alastor’s hand stopped you from taking your panty off as he bent toward your thighs.

“ I’ve always wanted to take a bite of those sinfully thighs of yours.”

You moaned as you felt him kiss your skin, caressing in a comforting manner your waist. You gripped his hand as he licked, bit and kissed your thighs, marking them with his teeth. You tried to stop your moans but thinking about the fact that Alastor was the one touching you was making you lightheaded. It wasn’t like in the books, you were supposed to be the one making him feel good!

“ I know you are thinking about your stupid books. I’ll stop if you think about anything else but us right now.” he bit your thighs harder, making you moan.

“But…But how am I supposed to know how to please you..?” you sighed as his hands were caressing your belly. You tilted your head against the snow, your eyes looking shyly at Alastor who had his eyes straight trained on you.

“ Like you always did. By being yourself.” he licked the marks he had made on your skin before tilting his head against your smooth thighs. “ What do you wish for ?”

You blushed, looking away but he took your chin with his hands, forcing you to look at him. You knew he hated when you were trying to hide yourself from him. You inhaled deeply.

“ I want… to touch you…” you whispered. He smiled at you before moving above you. You stared at his face, making sure he was okay as your cold hand touched his torso. His body was so hot against your hands. You caressed his skin, going toward his shoulder then his back. You saw him sigh as he closed his eyes, going toward your neck to kiss your skin there.

Feeling him so close to you was so overwhelming and yet, you wanted to feel even closer to him. You timidly pushed your pelvis against his, making him hiss. You stop moving, trying to see his face. Were you doing something bad? You felt his hand dug into your waist.

“ Is… is it okay..?” you asked but before you could once push yourself against him you felt him tugged you against his pelvis making you moan. You could feel something hard against your panty and you blushed. Was it Alastor’s member..? You bit your lips as you moved against him, moaning louder. God, he felt so good… “ Should we…?”

You looked at Alastor as he chuckled against your skin. He leaned away from your body, looking at you fondly. “ Dearest, you must think I don’t know anything about sex, but, trust me, I know what I want to do to you.” he kissed your lips then trailed down toward your panty. What was he…? “ And as you know, I’m greedy with what I desire.” you kissed your crotch through your panty, making you gasp. “ If you allow me…”

You were blushing madly but you wanted it so badly. You spread your legs, your body twitching from anticipation. Alastor was licking you through your panty while keeping his eyes on you. You tilted your head back, your legs squeezing his head. You didn’t know what was happening but you were loving every second of it.

You moaned loud when you felt his tongue against your bare sex. You looked at him, he had his eyes closed, kissing and licking your vulva like it was the best dish he had ever had the blessing to eat. You couldn’t contain your voice as you moaned his name, gripping his air tightly.

Alastor was eating you out. The Alastor you have known all your life. The one who didn’t give a damn about other people’s existence,the one who had never looked at other people as more than tools, the one who had just killed his own father was laying in the snow, eating you out like a starved man.

You screamed as you arched your back, feeling a warm tingle in your belly getting hotter and hotter. You were moving your hips against his lips without being aware of it, moaning Alastor’s name again and again.

And then you snapped.

Your whole body was shaking as you moaned his name so loudly you would be embarrassed if you cared. Your hips were twitching as Alastor recolted your sweet release with his tongue. He leaned back with his charming smile; his lips and chin wet because of your pleasure and yet, he still had blood on his face. He looked devilishly breathtaking.

“ How is my wife feeling?” he smirked as he stared at you. You were breathing hard, tears falling down your eyes. You weren’t feeling nervous anymore, at all. You wanted him completely.

“ I want you.” you sat up slowly, taking your bra off, and shivered when you saw his eyes fall on your chest. You approached him slowly, pressing your chest against his naked torso and kissed him. You could taste yourself and blood on his lips. It was.. It was weird but not disgusting. You forced him to sit as you straddled his laps, kissing him with more vigor. You pressed your pelvis against his hard clothed member. You shivered as you imagined him inside of you.

Alastor inside of you.

That thought could have made you orgasmed once more.

You leaned back to watch his face. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing hard but he was staring at your face, his pupils dilated and this oh so delicious glint that was only for you. His madness was for you and only you. You nipped at his lips, staring at his eyes. You wanted to pleasure him like he just did, you wanted to show him how he meant to you. You remembered reading a book about sucking a man’s shaft. You leaned back, looking down on his clothed member.

Sucking Alastor’s cock.. Yes, it was something you wanted…

“ You thought about your books.”

“ N-no– Well, yes, but I want to.. if you want of course.. Do what you have done to me… I want to suck your… Well..” you blushed looking away. He took your face with his hand while the other was playing with your clit. You moaned, staring at his smiling face. He leaned toward your ears.

“ No. Maybe next time you will not think about your books.”

You tried to complain but you just moaned louder, gripping his shoulder, as he slowly entered you with one finger. He was playing with you !

“ Please… I really want it..!” you tried to convince him. You wanted to see Alastor lose control over himself because of you.

“ No my dearest, that’s your punishment for thinking about something other than us.” He grinned at you. You frowned and bit his neck as hard as you could, making him groan. You were moving your hips against his hands, his palm grinding against your clit as you bit him on his shoulder again and again.

You squealed as Alastor pinned you underneath him, breathing hard. You tried to take off his belt, making chuckle at your eagerness. He took off his belt slowly, making you whine impatiently.

You gasped as you saw his hard shaft. You could feel your vagina clench around nothing as you looked at what was supposed to go inside of you. You bit your lips, laying down on the snow while staring at Alastor, spreading your legs. You wanted him. You wanted him so much you felt like losing yourself to madness.

“ Darling…” he whispered and he pressed himself against you. You kissed his lips multiple times, your arms around his shoulder. You tensed as you felt him enter you very carefully. It was.. a strange feeling actually. You tilted your head back as Alastor was kissing your neck, trying to make you feel something else than what you were feeling between your legs.

It wasn’t… that hurtful. You groaned as you tense your legs around his hips.It was manageable. You just needed time to adjust. You moaned as Alastor bit your neck, stopping his hips. He kissed your lips easily making you forget the pain between your legs.

You began to move your hips and smiled against his lips as you felt no pain.

“ Are you okay..?” you felt Alastor ask against your lips, a sweet whisper that made you feel safer than anything else. You were in the woods, having your virginity taken on the dirtied floor and yet, you couldn’t feel happier.

“ I’ve never felt better.” you whispered back against his lips. He smiled at you before kissing you languishly. You moaned against his lips as you felt his back’s muscles flexed against your nails. You were enveloped with his scent, his body, everything. He was inside you, in the deepest part of your body. He was panting against your skin, his hips moving faster.

You scratched his back, marking him as yours. You both were one. In body and soul. You tilted your head back against the snow as your moans were getting louder and louder. Alastor was the only thing you could feel. The only thing you wanted to feel. You didn’t know where your own body started or where Alastor’s body ended.

Hearing him groaned because of you was thrilling. This man who used to be so composed even when killing a man was having no control over his own body because of you. Those thoughts made you snap.

You felt your walls clenched around his shaft as you came around him once more. You heard him swear as you locked your legs around him, making him unable to escape from you.

“ Darling…” he chuckled breathlessly. “ I’m at my limit…” he panted, his member twitching inside you.

“ I want you to come inside me.” you plead.

His pupils dilated before he bit you on your chest, where your heart was beating. You sighed with delight as you felt him release his semence, moving his hips until every drop of his seed was settled inside you. You were stroking his back, like a silent apology for the marks you have made. Alastor was breathing against your chest, stroking your waist. Both of you stayed like this, sweaty, in a comfortable silence until you couldn’t take it.

You giggled before laughing loudly.

Alastor looked at you, amused with raised eyebrows. You smiled at him, kissing him once more on his lips.

“ I’m just happy..” you said, caressing the side of his face. He took your hand and kissed it, staring at you.

“ So am I.”

You looked at him as he left your warm entrance. You were beginning to feel the cold weather now. Alastor helped you dress up, winking at you when you blushed because you could feel his sperm sliding down your thighs. Alastor walked toward the dead man.

Oh yes, you killed someone.

He crouched in front of his deceased father.

“ Darling, you should go back home. I’ll take care of the … leftovers.”

You walked toward him, embracing him from behind.

“ You don’t need my help?”

“ You already help me, dearest. I’ll just enjoy one last moment with my father. Go back to my Mother, she must be worried.”

You really didn’t want to be separate from Alastor. Not after everything that happened. Alastor must have sensed it because he kissed your ringed hands before standing up. You nodded at him, kissing him one last time before going back to his house. You did try to find the fawn that had miraculously helped you, but unfortunately you didn’t meet it during your way back.

You opened the door, you would have to explain to Marie why you looked like a bloodied mess. You walked toward the kitchen, you could hear the shower so Marie must be bathing right now. You saw two plates with a note. It was from Marie, she had written that she kept two plates for the both of you.

The both of you.

There was yours and Alastor’s name written on the paper.

You smirked before putting the note in the fire, destroying a possible clue.

Marie knew her husband wouldn’t come home, that’s why there wasn't a third plate.

You had to calm Marie down when she saw the state of your face. You laughed as she treated you but you reassured her. You were as capable as a nurse now, you have been treating your father since he came back from war. Those were nothing to worry about.

You could see her hands shaking but you both didn’t address the elephant in the room. She did pause when she was cleaning the blood from your face and neck.

“ Is that a.. hickey dear..?”

You blushed furiously making her giggled at you. You hid your face behind your hands as Marie was laughing affectionately at you. She took your hand and looked at your ring.

“ So, now, you are my daughter in law?” you giggled as you both began to talk about a wedding reception. You talked for hours, only stopping when Alastor entered the house. It was already dawn time but you weren’t feeling tired. He smiled at his mother and you knew it was time for you to go. They had to share this moment together. You stood up saying you were going home, refusing Alastor’s demand to accompany you home.

You hugged Marie and kissed Alastor cheeks. You wouldn’t kiss him in front of his Mother! But as you stepped out of the door, you were being tugged against a warm familiar chest, you closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours. You smiled softly at him, caressing his cheek with your ringed hands that he kissed.

He let you go as you walked home. Your nose wasn’t broken and your bruises weren’t visible yet, and from what you saw in the mirror, you could always tell people you fell down the stairs because of the ice. You entered your house quietly, everyone was still sleeping, perfect.

You walked toward your bedroom, smiling like a fool. You undressed yourself and looked at your body in front of the mirror. You had hickeys on your chest, neck and thighs. You blushed as you saw white semence dripping from your vagina.

You really did it… You needed to tell Alice tomorrow !

After washing up you fell asleep as easily as usual. You woke up around 11am, which surprised your mother when she saw you already dress up. You kissed her cheek with a big grin.

“ Where is dad?”

“He went to work, why?” she asked before screaming out of shock when you showed her your ring. “ It’s from Alastor, right? Of course it is ! Oh my baby !” she hugged you, crying from emotion. You felt tears in your eyes too. You didn’t know why but telling your mother you were getting married was… it was moving. She was already naming brands for your wedding dress.

You talked with your mother for hours before you decided it was time to tell Alice. You went out, making sure the hickeys weren’t visible. You talked toward Alice’s mansion, greeting the butler that was now used to you. You were brought to the living room, waiting for your friend.

But you were surprised when you saw her coming with… Alizée was it? You stood up as Alice hugged you. You looked at Alyzée who seemed uncomfortable. Why was she here? Alice took the woman's hand and forced her to sit on the sofa. Well, you weren’t going to force her to leave, you didn’t know her, your only knowledge was from Alastor: she was the mayor’s daughter.

You talked with Alice, trying to coat Alyzée to talk with you which, after some time, she did seem more comfortable with your presence.

“ But I came here for news that will please you, I’m sure.” you smirked as Alice stood up.

“ Do I need to bring the wine?”

“ Yes.”

She clapped her hands, calling for a butler to bring three glasses and two bottles of wine. You laughed as the butler came with Alice’s order. She waited for the butler to leave before serving you and Alyzée a drink.

You waited for Alice to take a sip of wine before showing your ring. She spat on the table before screaming while Alyzée was smiling widely, clapping her hands together. You laughed as Alice shook your shoulder, looking at the ring then shook your shoulder once again. Alyzée congratulated you with a beaming smile making you feel relieved.

You might have felt some jealousy for the beautiful woman in the past but not anymore.

You drank glasses and glasses of wine as you explained how you got married without the gory details. Quickly enough, there were three drunk women in the living room.

“ But we didn’t just get married.” you giggled drunkenly. You showed them your neck, decorated by Alastor hickeys. Alice shouted while Alyzée was whistling.

“ Oh my girl!” Alice hugged you before sitting back down. “ If we are going on with secrets, I might have something to say!” she raised her glass as you and Alyzée stared at her curiously. “ I… I am in love with someone and we are in a secret relationship.”

You choked on your wine as Alyzée spat in on the floor.

“ What? When? Who?” you struggled to speak as you tried not to cough. Alice put her glass on the table and watched you, her face flushed from the alcohol but she seemed worried.

“ I hope you won’t hate me after this.” she said before kissing the Alyzée on the lips.

Alice was kissing Alyzée.

Alice was in a relationship with Alyzéee.

A woman.

…

Alice was in love!

The two women separated themselves, looking at each other with love. You felt tears in your eyes as you stood up, making Alice stand up too with a worried expression. You ran toward her and hugged her, crying. Your best friend was in love, she was happily in love. You cried harder as you felt Alice sobbed against you.

“ I was so afraid you would see me as a disgusting being.” she cried as you hugged you tighter against you.

“ No, I would never!” you said before wiping your eyes. You looked at Alyzée and hugged her too. You knew it would be difficult for them to be in a relationship but you would help them in any way you could!

The evening went one, you’ve got to know Alyzée who was a very intelligent woman, a little more down to earth than Alice but maybe it was better for your best friend. You looked at the windows, it was already night time and you didn’t remember the last time you were this drunk.

“ Miss, you have a guest.”

Alice looked at the butler, confused. The butler stepped aside and your soon to be husband walked into the living room. You smiled with delight as he thanked the butler who closed the door behind him.

“ Ladies, good evening.”

You stood up, trying to run toward him but everything was spinning. Alastor walked quickly toward you and made you sit down.You giggled as you nuzzled against him. You wanted to tell him about Alyzée and Alice but it was not your choice to make. The four of you began to talk, whiskey was brought to Alastor as you all gossip about what was going on in New Orleans.

“ I hope one day, I will be able to marry you Alyzée…” whined Alice, as she hugged her girlfriend. Alyzée just smiled sadly before kissing the crown of her head. You looked at Alastor who drank his whiskey, he didn’t seem surprised or disgusted. “ I’m jealous Alastor is getting married before me! When you arrived, I thought you both had a fight! I mean, you don’t even wear your necklace!”

You paled as your hand went toward your neck.

The necklace.

You left it there.

“ Well, let's just say my fiancée left it at my house,” said Alastor with a calm face. He took something out of his pocket and you almost cried from relief as you saw your necklace dangling from his fingers.” So I came here to give it back to her.”

You sighed in relief. Thank god Alastor was there.

The night went on as Alastor played the piano while Alice was forcing Alyzée to dance with her. You laughed as you sat next to Alastor, singing while he played. You stared at the ladies dancing with each other, their gazes never drifting from each other. You felt sad, knowing you would get married soon but your best friend might never have this chance. You didn’t know if Alastor felt what you were feeling, but he never stopped playing the piano and you never stopped singing, leaving the two ladies having their own fragile moments.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor

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wooahaeruby · 3 months

Text

Blood Stained Hands

Summary

One mistake leads to the downward spiral of the life you once knew. Everything made sense once, but now...everything made sense differently. Are you willing to risk everything for the people you've come to love? A Poly SVT (only a few members) x Reader fic with relationships added as time goes on Jeonghan x Reader & Joshua x Reader & ????? x Reader

Tags/TW

Mafia AU, Polyamory, G*ns and Dr*gs mentions, Violence, Organized Crime, Death Threats, Other Kpop groups are mentioned, Female Reader, Trauma, PTSD, Slow Burn, M*rder/People Die, Read at your own risk Some chapters will have specific Trigger Warnings!

Author's Notes

This is my villain arch. This is years worth of watching crime shows and losing my mind which ended up in...this. Yeah... I don't have a lot to say for myself with this one, I just wrote and wrote and wrote and It got longer and longer and now we are here.

Status: Incomplete/WIP

Current WC: TBD

Current Chapter Count: 38

Chapters

Under Dimmed Street Lights

Umbrella to Stand Under, Together

Stupid is As Stupid Does

Intro Fire Brings Light

Light Brings Warmth

New Bonds

New World Unraveled

Checkmate

First Rule About Fight Club

Don't Talk About Fight Club

Birthday Blue

Heart On The Light

Sky Walking

Rose Tinted Glasses

A Night to Remember

A Night You'll Never Forget

When The Sun Shines

One Shot, Two Shot

Plans Within Plans

Plans Within the Plans of Plans

Stupid Games

Stupid Prizes

Two is Better Than One

Never Alone

A Step Forward

New Perspectives

One Eye Open

A Hand to Hold

Snap of A Heart

Crash and Burn

Shot for Shot

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Sparks

143

Three Steps Forward

Four Million Steps Back

A Very SVT Christmas

Misery Business

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a-libra-writes · 7 months

Note

can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.

#posting 1 year later lets go lmao #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #wick sable x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #asa sweet x reader #wes clyde x reader #also lmao sorry mordecai would not take a singer/semi famous partner well. too much attention #its funny to think abt tho like. cannot imagine this man has taste in upbeat jazz #cant even pretend to dance at least calvin tries!

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

CAMERA SHY | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!albon!reader

part two: photogenic

♡ liked by landonorris, pierregasly, daniel3.jpg and 293,004 others

lando.jpg had a personal photographer for this one

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user1 uhm... are we not going to talk about the third slide? ⤷ user2 i was just thinking the same ⤷ user3 he can have female friends without it meaning anything

alex_albon ... ⤷ user4 ALEX?? ⤷ user5 why is his comment worrying me. what does it mean??

♡ liked by landonorris, lilymhe, y/n_albon and 254,309 others

tagged: lilymhe, y/n_albon

alex_albon more or less quality family time (i'm thirdwheeling)

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y/n_albon i should become a photographer ⤷ lilymhe y/n.jpg when

user6 alex saying he's thirdwheeling with lily and y/n has me wheezing

user7 why does y/n lowkey look like the girl in lando's post ⤷ user8 hold on- ⤷ user9 just because they both have black hair? we couldn't even see the girl's face. ⤷ user10 the delusion is delusioning

♡ liked by pierregasly, daniel3.jpg, carlossainz55 and 376,002 others

lando.jpg monaco tourist guide for the weekend

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user11 okay so him posting on this account more often than usual means he obviously wants us to speculate, right? ⤷ user12 thoughts are being thunk

user13 okay so he's showing someone around in monaco which means she's not from monaco or lives in monaco. you know who fits that description? y/n fucking albon. she lives in london. case closed ⤷ user14 maybe you should put more thoughts into studying and not sticking up your nose like that in other people's businesses ⤷ user15 my girl y/n doesn't even follow lando, nor does he follow her

♡ liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 12,391 others

y/n_albon monaco, une belle âme (monaco, a beautiful soul)

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lilymhe rue, when was this? ⤷ y/n_albon had my own photographer ⤷ lilymhe oh, so you're cheating on me?

user16 i just know they're taunting us at this point

user17 how come i never realised how pretty alex's sister is??

alex_albon your frenglish is annoying me ⤷ y/n_albon just because i speak more french than you do even though you literally live in a french-speaking country. envy doesn't suit you brother

♡ liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 398,102 others

lando.jpg cameras cameras cameras

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user18 i'm sick. i'm tired. i'm done

user19 at this point, they're taunting us ⤷ user20 it's no fun anymore i just want a reveal

user21 i just know for a fact they love torturing us

♡ liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 15,203 others

y/n_albon guess i'm someone's new muse

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lilymhe whoever wants to claim you need to fight me first ⤷ y/n_albon he has no chance against you, dw baby

alex_albon idk how i, as your big brother, should react to all this ⤷ y/n_albon then don't

user22 props to lando because my boy captures y/n in such a beautiful way ⤷ user23 she's naturally very pretty

user24 are we even sure this is lando's work because they still don't follow each other like... ⤷ user25 i'm honestly not buying the rumour

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher, estebanocon and 398,406 others

lando.jpg club, dance, groove

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user26 omg he's back! ⤷ user27 literally our boy hasn't posted in months ⤷ user28 probably because everyone kept conspiricing because of that girl who might've been y/n albon ⤷ user29 omg it's been so long i forgot about that whole rumour

user30 i'm not detecting any girl so i think lando's either single again or never dated someone the past months anyway

―

landonorris started following y/n_albon y/n_albon started following landonorris and lando.jpg

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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procyonloser · 22 days

Text

(orc/elf Adamsapple mini. warning for mentions of childbirth and violence/bloodshed)

Adam was exhausted, his breathing was only now starting to even out, but he couldn't sleep yet. One of the taller elves handed him a round crying bundle, which he pulled up onto his breast.

The infant looked massive in comparison to the elven children that watched on from the entrance of the room - but it was minute compared to any orc children. His eldest child sat beside him on the birthing bed, sucking his thumb, not fully understanding what was going on, but he was just barely walking yet. Like his eldest, this infant had shorter pointed ears, somewhere between elf and orc, and a short tail, which the elven children found wildly hilarious. He knew his children would have a hard time growing up here, already being called names, like piglet. The alternative was impossible, his own village would kill them immediately.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a kiss upon his brow, and then onto the newborn. A little girl, with a shock of blonde hair, showing she did take after him just as much as she did Adam.

"You've done beautifully, my love." Lucifer said, and Adam wanted to be happy, but the elven wet nurses looked at him with disdain at best, disgust at worst. They weren't supposed to allow orcs into their lands, and Lucifer was far from the most popular elf, even before he brought Adam home.

Maybe they'd find somewhere, someday, for their family - away from all the names and looks.

But how had he even gotten here? Well, it started two years back.

The orc village Adam was from was one of the largest, and Adam was the firstborn son of the current ruler. That, of course, didn't secure his position. He had to fight to keep it, and it was only a matter of time until someone challenged his father, or he was killed out on a raid. His sisters too seemed eager to get rid of him, but Adam wasn't about to let that happen. There were multiple ways to win favor within his village, but capturing an elf was always a big one.

They were fast, they could use magic, they had more advanced weaponry, and they had jewelry. They were always bedecked in things that glimmered, things that Adam's village had little of. Adam needed a wife to secure his own future as well, he needed heirs, and he needed gold to melt down and turn into a marriage dagger for the orc of his choosing. So, Adam needed an elf.

And, he'd just so happened to have spotted one in this area recently, an open glen within the woods. It was very far outside the line of their own territory, which meant the elf was either strong, or incredibly stupid - or as his mother Asherah, would say about Adam, a stunning mix of both.

Adam sat up on a high oak branch, one heavy enough to carry him, watching from above as his target made itself known. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, elves all looked the same to him, but it seemed short, even for their species. It walked around the glen, picking up sticks, bending them like it was testing the brittleness, before throwing them away. Elven bows were one of their worst weapons, the orcs had nothing so long distance besides throwing spears.

Adam waited until it was turned around, before he jumped down from his hiding spot, and swung his club hard into the elven figure with a cackle. It went flying, hitting a rocky outcrop, and collapsing as a cloud of dust rose around it. Adam grinned, resting his club on the ground, and waiting to see if the elf got back up.

"You shouldn't have come out so far, little one. You know, if you're not dead, all you need to do is give me all your jewelry and clothing, and I'll let you live." That was a lie. "You can go home." Adam wanted to see first if it was a male or female, then he'd probably trade them off to the humans.

The elf pushed up onto a hand, and Adam's grin spread. It was stronger than he'd thought. As the dust cleared, the elf got to it's feet, and made eye contact with Adam. Red eyes, that was uncommon.

"Somehow I doubt that," the elf said wryly, in a deeper voice than he'd expected. He had no weapons on him that he could see, not even a knife.

"Are you male?" Adam asked, and the elf gave a small nod. "Well, I have to admit that's less interesting."

Adam raised his club again, ready to finish the job. "Make your choice, elf."

The elf raised an eyebrow, dusting himself off, like he was entirely uninterested in Adam's threats.

Maybe because he was.

With a flick of his wrist, Adam went flying backwards, dropping his club, and falling down the side of a riverbank. Immediately, he knew something was wrong, he'd not expected such powerful magic out of an elf so small. Adam coughed, and coughed until it came up red as he landed, feeling a sharp pain begin to radiate from his center. Adam looked down, and felt cold. He'd landed on a downed tree, and a jagged broken branch had impaled him through his stomach.

The elf appeared at the edge of the riverbank, expression going from tired, to shocked. In an instant, he'd silently jumped down beside Adam, looking over the wound. "Oh no...I didn't mean for this to happen..." He whispered to himself, chewing on his lip.

Up close, Adam could see he was very pretty. A small heart shaped face, large eyes, long sharp pointed ears covered in dangling gold and gems. Adam's breathing got more haggard as he watched him move around, as though he was trying to find some angle where Adam wasn't going to die.

"Hey, what's your name?" Adam asked quietly, and the elf looked up, startled.

"Lucifer."

"I'm Adam. Could you do me a last favor? You elves have honor, right?" Lucifer paused, but nodded. "Could you give me one of your necklaces? When my people find my body, I want them to know I fought. I want my mother to have it."

Lucifer watched him, brows knit together as Adam spoke. He looked more pained than Adam felt, because, in truth, he'd started to not feel much of anything. He was cold, that's all he felt.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, why did you have to-" Lucifer shook his head, before he raised a hand, and Adam began to raise off the branch. Blood began to pour out of his open wound, as Lucifer lowered him onto river stones. A golden glow surrounded delicate fingers, and he pressed them against Adam's stomach.

"I'm not going to let you die, Adam. I'm going to heal you, then you can see your mother yourself." Lucifer said, meeting his eyes with resolution on his face. He raised a bloodied hand to Adam's cheek, caressing it just briefly, before returning it to start the healing work. Adam closed his eyes at the soft touch, and waited for death to take him, but it never came.

Adam woke up, who knew how much later, weak, but alive. They were in a cave, illuminated by a soft red glow, and he heard gentle singing, and felt a hand running through his hair. He leaned into the touch.

It was the beginning of their life together.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #my fics #orcelf

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emojellyace08 · 1 year

Note

Hello! How've you been? Can you please write jealousy headcanons for lookism men with a female reader? The reader and they are not in a relationship but they have a crush on her and they get jealous when she hangs out with her guys best friend? Thank you ❤️

♡♡♡♡ Jealousy "Hey, would you please focus on me?" (Lookism Men x Female Reader)♡♡♡♡

A/N: Sorry for the really late reply @serenesoulseeker but I've been feeling a lot better lately! (been trying to recover from a cold rn) And sorry for the inconvenience bc I have other requests to do and other important tasks (this has been sitting on my drafts for a while -_-''''') but I hope my writing reaches your expectations. Ty! Genre: angst to fluff Warnings: jealousy and neediness (a bit of possessiveness), not in an established relationship with the character of choice at first, (yandere on Samuel, Olly, and Jiho's part), slight mentions of assault (night club), mentions of physical fighting, shouting, toxic relationship on the last part (NOT CONDONING THIS IN REAL LIFE) reader is gender neutral!

Daniel Park/Jay Hong/Zack Lee/Vasco (Lee Eun Tae)/Jace Park/Duke Pyeon/Eli Jang/Johan Seong/Jake Kim/Lineman/Brad Lee/Jerry Kwon/Jason Yoon/Jiho Park/Young Jinyeong Park/Yuseong

Getting to know him for a very long time is a ride. You've been childhood friends with him and he's one of the people you cherish a lot. You always got each other's back. You often scare those little bullies away when they're taking their insults personally again just to make him insecure. And at times you got to scold him while patching up his bruises when he gets beaten up by those thugs, he just really wants to protect you from those types of people.

He may get wounded because of his hero complex getting in the way at times, but it's just him being him. You may come out as strong and bold at times but he knows you got that soft spot in you once he gets to know you better. You're both glad that you get to know each other. In times in rich and wealth, in sickness and in health, in both of your ups and downs you're always partners in crime. Spending his extra time with you shows that he really values you as you're with him. Despite having your own business and focusing on both of your perspective goals, that spark just never faded away. You're both thankful that your friendship stays the same, even getting better even when you're not with him at most times.

Your relationship with him even developed the more you stayed beside him especially when he's down like there's a dark cloud above his head. You don't have to be there for him always, yet you chose to. That triggered something he never felt anything before. Something warm and exciting. He usually never engage in romance since he's afraid of getting rejected and hurt. But he felt so much in ease and comfortable with you. When you tease him he usually doesn't mind it since he knows that you don't mean it and you actually see the good in him. It took a while for him to realize that he's been crossing the line that he's not prepared for.

He's enlightened, nervous, and anything between scared and happy. If he confesses to you, will like him back just because of his looks? Or will you turn down his offer or live both of your best lives as lovers? Will you avoid him? He's not sure. Though he will respect your wishes if you want boundaries. But he can't help but to feel jealous when you mingle with other people, especially with other boys. He knows that your kind and uplifting spirit makes the other guys ask for help when they need to so he doesn't really have a problem with you spending time with them as long as they don't do anything scandalous to you. He knows that he's not your boyfriend and vice versa, so there's no need to feel jealous. Right? But he can't really control it at times. He wants to pin you on the wooden table as he wants to tell you his feelings, "Hey, would you please focus on me?" but he can't seem to tell it on your face. He doesn't mean to pout when you won't pay attention to him. But he gets really hot and sweaty when you lean closer to him when you're helping him out with his homework! Or he can't help but to admire your cute face that you make when he teases you.

He's really insecure about what he's feeling and about himself. But after collecting his courage, he decided to talk to you and face that wall that he's been trying to overcome. He doesn't care if you even reject him anymore. He's trying to act tough and strong so that he can keep up with his image and to your standards. But I guess it's now or never.

You are chatting with him as you view the beautiful scenery of the sun falling down as the moon starts to appear on the pinkish-blue hue of the sky. The wind's blowing is soft and gentle as leaves softly rustle and danced on the atmosphere falling off on the tall and strong trees. Birds are flying on the sky as children flew their kites and sweet couples enjoy their quality time with picnics or sitting on the bench, just chatting and laughing at pretty dumb stuff. Despite the background sounds getting a bit loud, he really enjoys this moment with you.

"Hey Y/N," "Hm? "I want to ask you a question." his voice became stern as you gave him your attention. "Yeah, what about that?" you can see him getting a bit sweaty as he gulped, not trying to be so harsh or obvious. "Ehem, do you have s-someone you like?" he asked as your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh about that," "Yeah?" "I-I have someone I really like." You replied feeling your own cheeks grew hot as his mouth curls into a frown. He shouldn't have been hoping for you reciprocating his feelings. But he can't help but to get curious about this type of yours. "Okay, what is he like?" he asked with a hint of discourage on his voice, his eyelashes fluttering as he tries to stop his tears from falling down on his soft face. He never meant to be overdramatic, but his jealousy along with his insecurities and personal problems consume him at times. "Well, he doesn't realize it but he's really handsome, nice, talented, smart in his own ways. But that's not the reason I started developing feelings for him. He's so soft and gentle at me all the time, even being patient when I'm acting like a drama queen/king. But he's been so understanding at my problems even when I'm at fault at times. He doesn't give up on me and he actually made me a better person in some ways." you replied honestly as both of you avoided eye contact. "And I don't mean to offend anybody but," "Huh?" you faced him as you leaned a bit closer to him as he panics. It doesn't mean that he hates it, it's in fact the opposite. He can't help but to stare at your pretty face, but as the guy/someone who developed feelings first, he should be making the first move! "What if I told you that it's you that I like?" "E-EH!"

Now after talking it through out you're going to be a lovey dovey couple. If you're the shy type you're going to be a blushing idiot around him and vice versa. Though after confessing to each other he wants to take things slowly and surely so both of you wouldn't hurt each other's feelings and waste your friendship, memories, and time at the end. He fully respects it if you want to focus on your studies, family, and with your future career but just remember that he's always here for you all the time even if you're lovers or not :) (but trust me he's going to be one of the most loving boyfriends in this verse so it's now or never ;)

Warren Chae/Zack Lee/James Lee/Goo Kim/Sinu Han/Jake Kim/Vin Jin/Young Elite & Tom Lee/Kuroda Ryuhei/Olly Wang/Yoojin/Gongseob Ji/Kwak Jihan &Jibeom

This f*cker is insane. If you met him on your middle school, high school or in your workplace one thing you know is that he's going to piss you off (in a really good and bad way). He doesn't usually engage with his love life, he might have flings and flirts there and then but he's not really emotionally ready for mature understandings in a couple relationship. And besides he doesn't really want to either, he has other plans, goals, and other businesses to handle before getting into a committed relationship. Having a crush is fine he guesses.

But meeting you for the first time is something that feels different yet familiar. Two things crossed on his mind. First, why the f*ck does he need a partner for his work/school activity? And second is that even if he didn't want to admit it but something about you looks interesting. You look like someone who's pretty chill, and even if you won't shut the hell up he has another bicker friend to make and chat with. So it's a 50/50 win.

But one thing he sure know he's wrong about. You're more than your skills, beauty, brains, and talents. Even if you're the introverted or extroverted type, one thing he knows is that you're actually helpful and reasonable. What he likes about you is that you're pretty realistic in some situations that most people can't handle with. And you might sound harsh at times but it's just you being honest and giving constructive criticisms. It might not be obvious that he likes you because of him making you loose your temper and patience at times, but it's just him being him (an annoying little brat). But whenever things get serious, you always got his back and vice versa. You and him are one hell of a disaster if someone or even many people tries to mess with your shit.

Even if he seems to act bold, cold, intimidating and monstrous, he's actually a bit of a scared cat when you bring up the topic of him getting a girlfriend/boyfriend. His body just tenses when you talk about someone who looks physically attractive to you or when they show you acts of good and kind-hearted services. At first he conflicts to his subconscious that it's just him acting like an older brother to you as he scowls and hisses at them like a possessive cat. He can't help but to raise his eyebrows and roll his dark looking orbs when you giggle about your previous crushes, even cringing and boasting that he's a better man than that wimp will ever be. "HAH?! HIM?! REALLY?! Jesus Christ Y/N I didn't know that you have a really bad taste at picking men." he smirks as he bites on his strawberry-flavored lollipop while laughing at your grumpy looking form with him obviously being taller and muscular than you. "You don't even know him! He's not only kind but he's also helpful and bonus points, HOT!" he chokes on his sweet while he lets now a loud guffaw that can be probably heard at the whole building. This bastard really knows to piss you off. But it's just him being jealous. He thinks to himself that he may not be the best in showing affection and even coming out as arrogant at times, but he'll definitely change his misdeeds and wrong doings just to be a good influence on you. He might flirt there and then just to see you getting flustered while smacking his arms to stop. But he wouldn't go too far to make you feel uncomfortable around him. Respect.

Whoever tries to touch you without your permission gets smashed on the face by him. He may not be your boyfriend but whoever pervert who takes it too far and doesn't know boundaries deserves to feel his stinging and even gut-wrenching attacks.

It was on a late evening when you wear your clothing of choice to hang out on your own on a night club. You messaged him that you're going out on your own to get a few drinks with him answering that it's best if he can accompany you if you don't mind. But you reassured him that you'll be okay and you'll come home safe and sound. How wrong are you on that part. A skinny looking dude kept approaching you for your number while you politely decline that you're fine with your own. But he couldn't just stop bothering you, the fight have even turned into physical if you asked me. He was about to slap you on the face but then your friend stopped his attack by putting pressure on his wrist making the drunk bastard groan and grit his teeth. "Oi you dumb fuck, is that how you treat a person?" "Why the fuck are you getting out of the wa-" Your eyes widened as he landed an attack on the poor guy, but he just deserved it since he's not being responsible.

Both of you have to get out of that place filled with stench of smoke and alcohol. You're not really on the right mind either as the *alcohol/drink of choice* is starting to kick in your system. You crying and wailing on his arms like a little toddler when your toy is taken away from you. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME HERE?! I ASKED FOR MY OWN TIME! I COULD HAVE PROTECTED MY SELF THERE!" you sobbed as you keep hitting him on the arms as he tries to make you calm down. "OI YOU REALLY THINK THAT I CAN JUST LEAVE YOU ALONE THERE?! WHAT IF YOU GOT HURT OR WHAT IF SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENED TO YOU?!" he was about to scold you more before you hit him again despite not being hurtful at all before you puked on his new bought shirt, ah what a dumbass you are at times. "SCREW YOU! YOU ALWAYS GET IN MY WAY! EVEN TEASING ME WHEN MY FEELINGS ARE ALREADY GETTING HURT! YOU DON'T EVEN CARE WE ARE JUST CO-WORKERS/CLASSMATES!"

He'll make sure to give you every detail about what happened that night and he'll apologize on his shortcomings, even being honest about his mistakes which you can feel a bit uncanny since it's not like him. "Sorry Y/N for being an asshole at times. Sorry if I offended you. I may not be sounding sincere right now but I'll try my best to make it up to you. We're partners in crime after all". Nonetheless, if you and him can make it work out and talk about your problems with each other you and him will make a great couple :).

Gun Park/Kwak Jichang/Taesoo Ma/DG (Kang Dag Yeom)/Young Charles Choi (Elite)/Daniel Park (post-training with Gun arc)/Johan Seong/Cheon Taejin/Magami Kenta

He's another one who doesn't really focus on his love life. He does feel that being alone can be lonely at times but one main advantage of being single is that he can have quality time for himself and he can keep an eye on his goals. But he can definitely feel a spark between the two of you the more he gets to know you better if he really likes you. He's just him chilling in his own world I guess.

He doesn't really get jealous? At all? He might have some moments of feeling disappointed when you're busy with your schooling/work or when you turn your attention to your classmate/co-worker but he just wouldn't speak about it unless if you're doing it intentionally he still definitely gets jealous.

He can simply control his emotions in times especially when both of you are out for business. He maintains his professionalism intact with him since acting like a crybaby about it would just make a ruckus between the two of you and he doesn't want an argument in the first place. He wants to keep each others' boundaries, love, connection, and self respect for one another so he'll just ask about your day while he listens to your rumbles in your school/workplace as long as you listen to him as well ;3.

He's also very honest about his feelings and what upsets him the most. He wouldn't be afraid to voice out his concerns most of the times. At times he's feeling very hesitant to talk about his or your issues since he's already mentally exhausted and he doesn't want to bruise your heart. But he knows that running away from something won't make anything better. So as much as it hurts your part, he's willing to give some constructive criticisms even if you're the sensitive type and he'll also listen to your point of view in situations while he also explains his side of things (he doesn't emotionally abuse you don't worry).

And your friend might feel a little glare or you might see a little pout on his face when you don't give him attention. He really wants to get showered with love and care even though his inferior is tough and strong. But he's still a human, feeling emotions like jealousy so expect for him to gently grab your chin while he looks at you with that demanding and fierce, yet soft and sparkly eyes to lock on you especially when both of you are alone keeping each others' company. "Hey, did you take notes to what I am talking about?" "E-Eh?!" "Keep your focus on me even just for today, I'm not emotionally free when I'm out for work. So listen to me right now."

But his demeanor will completely change once a fucker who knows that you're in a relationship with him tries to flirt with you. It's not even a feeling of jealousy at this point. He's going to feel rage once someone tries to touch you inappropriately. It's going to be a massacre if you don't convince him to stop since he doesn't have a beating for a while now. Your one of the people whom he only listens to so as much as he wants to teach that guy a lesson he'll consider sparing them, he might not want to see their face though after he tries flirting and taking advantage of you.

Samuel Seo/Olly Wang/Jiho Park (villain arc)/Vin Jin (at start of Lookism when he's still super toxic unlike today he's still an asshole at times)

Oh girl/boy, do I even need to start? -_-'''' 🚩🚩🚩.

Literally the definition of "pure" red flag inside out.

This guy has daddy issues, family issues, mommy issues, inferiority complex issues, literally any issue. He also (probably) has abandonment issues so he pretty much won't let you go if he feels like you're the "one for him".

Pretty creepy with the face that he makes when he gets excited for beating someone when somebody tries to get closer to you (especially his rival). He might take this as a big challenge to see which one deserves to be with you.

A literal gangster inside out. Y'all saying that you can fix him, are you Bob the Builder or smth? Like there's a literal whole construction site dedicated for him 😭.

He MIGHT change his values and goals once you taught him how to love and appreciate his self for the way he is but so far it's probably going to be a toxic relationship if you're also a really hard headed person.

He easily gets jealous out of the bunch even at the smallest things. No matter how many times you try to convince him that you're not flirting with your schoolmate/co-worker, once he lost his cool he'll be literally scary and monstrous. Literal shouting, screaming and crying will be heard on your room while he throws things on the wall when he loose his temper at you. *Sigh* Idk about it.

Definition of insecure (I don't know if I'm describing or insulting them at this point).

A literal ass most at times. Yikes.

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years

Text

Being Inarizaki’s Manager

Miss Manager is Shy and Cute 🥹

Inarizaki x shy and cute! Female manager (she/her pronoun)

Warnings: Atsumu starts off as a butthole but we reform him, fluff

A/N: I wrote a headcanon set earlier with a shy reader and well, now I think I’m a shy reader expect 💅 so here’s one of my favs with a shy manager 😌

Oof- you good, girl?

Seriously this team is like the opposite of shy and calm

I wouldn’t say they are Karasuno level but they get HYPED

Now, many of them had given up the dream of ever having a female manager

They were prepared to brave it alone (namely Kita, Aran, Omimi, Akashi, Suna, Ginjima, etc)

They knew what their problem was…

Well PROBLEMS

Atsumu and Osamu

But it’s fine because they were efficient 💅

Kita did everything and well, Kita did everything

But that all changed when one day our precious Angel, Riseki, met someone new 👀

You see, you were the new girl in school

A curse honestly

Being the new kid is never easy, trying to find friends or fit in with everyone is so hard

And to top it off, you were ridiculously shy and a wallflower

It’s not that you didn’t want to make friends but your shy, cute nature made it difficult

When you first joined Riseki’s class, he thought you were rather cute

You kept to yourself, didn’t bother anyone

You were smart and capable

And most importantly, you had absolutely NO CLUE who the Miya twins were 😌

Riseki had watched you a few times, and you showed a lot of promise

You seemed to be able to ignore all the Miya chat surrounding you

You didn’t seem bothered by the fan girls

And most importantly, when a Miya fight would break out, you’d simply ✨ignore ✨ it

The problem was that Riseki knew you were shy

You’d never speak up in class, you barely talked to anyone

But he also knew this was his opportunity

So what does he do? Well he confides in Kita

“Hey Kita, so I think I might have found us a potential manager?”

Kita 👉🏻😐😑 *not convinced or optimistic whatsoever*

“Is this person a teenage girl?” Kita asks in return

“Yes but-”

Kita 👉🏻 No 🫶🏻🥰

“Here me out tho, she’s a transfer student and I’ve been keeping an eye on her,” Riseki says

Kita 👉🏻🤨 creepy but ight-

“She has shown zero reaction to the Miyas at all! Like none, not even a second glance!” He says

Kita 👉🏻 tell me more…

Riseki goes on to explain more about you and Kita agrees to give you a small trial run

Ok now that Kita is convinced, all Riseki needs to do is ask you

Simple right?

“Hey Yn!” He yells as you freeze

You rn 👉🏻😐😳

Please you are looking around like “is he talking to me? Am I Yn?”

“Hey I was wondering if you had a club yet?” He asked as you just stared 👁️👄👁️

Please Yn, function

Riseki realizes that he probably came in way too strong, so he backs up a bit

“Umm I’m sorry to come at you so strong but I was wondering if you needed a club? The boys volleyball team is looking for a manager and I think you’d be perfect,” he says as your eyes widen even more

Please blink before your eyes dry up

“Ohh umm I don’t think I umm- I’m not sure I’d be good- I don’t play volleyball or know anything really,” you say as you blush heavily

Riseki is DYING at how cute you are 😭

“It’s ok Yn! I can teach you everything and the guys, wellmostoftheguys, are super helpful!” He says as you ponder for a bit

Maybe this is just what you need? You never take chances like this and maybe now is the time to start branching out

“Umm I guess I can try,” you say, a tiny smile lighting up your face as Riseki dies inside 😭

After school, he brings you to practice

The gym is huge and all the guys in it are huge as well

You start to second guess your decision

Maybe you aren’t cut out to be social, yeah maybe you’ll just be shy forever

Suddenly you are forced out of you thoughts when you are approached by four guys

You quickly take refuge behind Riseki and peer out from behind him as the boys all smile at you

“Kita, Aran, Omimi, Akagi- this is Yn! Yn these are our third years!” Riseki says as you blush hard and peek out from behind him

“Umm hello, I’m YN from class 1-4. It’s very n-nice to meet y-you,” you stutter out as the third years practically perish

How the heck are you so freaking cute?? 😭

“It’s nice to meet you YN, I’m Kita, the captain. Thank you so much for coming to meet with us,” Kita says, already impressed that you aren’t making waves or causing any disruptions

“T-thank you for having me,” you say as you stand next to Riseki now, a little more confident

“So Yn, do you know anything about volleyball?” Aran asks as you shake your head

“Not really but I’m a pretty fast learner,” you say as the boys all nod

Suddenly, a rouge ball comes flying out of nowhere as you quickly take cover as Akagi stops it from hitting you

“Are you ok Yn?” Kita asks as you nod

“I’m fine thank you,” you say before being approached by a boy with a yellowish blonde hair color

“Hey girls aren’t allowed in the gym!” He shouts as you reeled back a bit

Who was this extremely rude person?

“Shut up ya idiot! Obviously she’s talking to the captain!” A silver toned man says

“Yeah well I don’t need to be interrupted by any squealing pigs during my serves so get out of here!” He shouts at you as you quietly back up

“ATSUMU! Knock it off, stop being so rude! This isn’t one of your fan girls, this is Yn and she’s going to be our trial manager!” Kita scolds the yellowish blonde as he scoffs

“This? This is going to be our manager? She’s tiny and looks like she’s afraid of her own shadow! How is she going to ever be a manager for a powerhouse?” Atsumu says as you whince a little

Man he was a jerk 😒

“Damn Sumu, you’re being a jerk! Leave the poor girl alone,” a tall black haired man says

“Suna’s right! She didn’t do anything to you,” Omimi says as Atsumu stares at you

“She’s literally taking up space! Like how is she going to even be helpful?” Atsumu says as you finally lose it

“Excuse me,” you say, a little anger and agitation now clear on your voice

Everyone 👉🏻👀

“Yes, I maybe a little shy and skittish at times but it’s extremely rude of you to judge someone you haven’t even been introduced to,” you say as the men all look at you

Kita is like mentally taking notes

Suna has his phone out and recording 📱

Riseki is like “who is this?”

“My name is Yn and I’m a first year. I might not be the best but I’m smart and I learn quickly. If I interrupted your practice, I apologize but I won’t stand here and be treated with disrespect,” you say as you bow and take your leave

Honestly Queen shit 👑

Oohhhh Kita and Riseki are BIG MAD

Kita doesn’t say anything, he just GLARES at Atsumu

Riseki turns and goes after you but not before giving Atsumu the death glare of a lifetime

Aran, Omimi and Akagi are ready to kill

Suna is still recording 📱

Ginjima has now joined the pack and is wondering what the heck is going on

And Osamu, well Osamu is 👀 👇🏻

“YOU TYRANNICAL PIGGGGG!” He shouts as he kicks Atsumu in the back

But this time, nobody stops him from beating up his brother

The team 👉🏻 😙🎶

Meanwhile-

“YN wait! Please wait- I’m so sorry about Atsumu!” Riseki says apologizing to you

“Riseki, I’m sorry but I can’t-,”

“Please Yn! PLEASE! Please just give us a shot! I promise, we will kick Atsumu off the team if we have to just please be our manager!” Riseki says, on his knees BEGGING

Dang these guys really want a manager 😅

You sign, “I’ll do a trial run if it means that much to you.”

Riseki 👉🏻😐😳🥹 really?!?

You smile and nod a little

Riseki pulls you in for a deep hug 🫂 as you simply blush

And this began your journey as Inarizaki’s sweet manager

I wish I could say it was all smooth sailing but alas, Atsumu is still on the team 🙄

You aren’t sure why but at first, he’s just not nice at all

Like he refuses to take a towel from you, or even drink the water you hand him

He kind of makes you miserable

He knows how shy you are so he often puts you on the spot just to embarrass you

“Hey Yn do you know what that was called?” He says as he slams a serve over

Omimi and Akagi 👉🏻🙄 here we go…

Kita 👉🏻 😐😑 Atsumu-

Osamu 👉🏻 just say the word Yn 🙎‍♂️🤛🏻

Suna 👉🏻👀📱

“Umm a serve ace right?” You shyly respond

“Well would you look at that, she can learn,” Atsumu laughs as he walks away

Everyone is GLARING at Sumu rn

Literally Riseki was not joking when he said they would kick him off the team Yn

Idk if you bruised his ego or what Yn but man’s has it out for you 😅

However, one thing about Atsumu is that you can win the man over

It’s simple really… 🙌🏻 praise 🙌🏻

And you do just that

“Sumu your sets are really off today!” Aran says as Atsumu glares at him

“Yeah dude you literally almost flubbed our quick,” Suna says as Atsumu rolls his eyes and walks away

He sits on the bench, putting a towel over his head as he ponders

He’s not sure what’s wrong with him today but he’s been off all day

You noticed something was off, thinking maybe he was just having a bad day

But then you realized that Atsumu Miya wasn’t use to having bad days

So you decide to extend an olive branch

You walk over the him as he sits on the bench

“YN wait!” Osamu tries to stop you but he can’t

Suna’s eyes widen in fear for your life as Kita gets ready to save you from certain destruction

You calmly sit beside Atsumu as he turns his head and glares at you

You smile a little and place your hand on his gently

The team 👉🏻😳😲

“Everyone has bad days Atsumu. If we didn’t have bad days, we’d never get better. I still think you’re an amazing setter and if you ever need a hug, I’m here for you,” you say as Atsumu’s eyes widen

Atsumu is to stunned to speak

Quick Suna take a picture!

Seriously he was so mean to you and yet, you were still so nice to him

You smile and stand up, walking back to practice when it happens 🫣

Two strong arms grasp you from behind as a warmth radiates around you

You smile a little, grabbing his arms and squeezing

“Thanks Yn,” Atsumu says as he lets go and walks back into the court

The entire team is too stunned to speak

You say nothing as you go back to your job, handling towels, volleyballs and notes

“Did that just happen?” Ginjima asks

“I think so? Is this a dream?” Omimi responds

“Holy crap Atsumu actually has a heart?” Suna says

“OF COURSE I HAVE A HEART YA IDIOT!” Atsumu screams from the court

“Not like anyone could every tell ya grinch!” Osamu responds

“EXCUSE YOU SIR?!? WE ALL HAVE BAD DAYS, IF WE DISNT HOW WOULD WE EVER GET BETTER!” Atsumu responds

“YN literally just told you that ya dummy!” Ginjima says, rolling his eyes 🙄

The guys go back to practice

This time, Atsumu is much more on point

You smile and clap as the boys all kill it in practice

You don’t cheer loud, simply clap and smile 😊

It’s literally giving them life Yn!

Now when it came time for tournaments, you can’t say you weren’t nervous

This was your first time around so many people

You were still pretty shy, even thought you’d become friends with the entire volleyball team

Literally they were so protective of their shy little manager 🥹

“Ok is everyone here?” Kita asks as you nod

You had been walking in back with Suna, making sure all the members stayed together

“Ok let’s go get warmed up!” Kita shouted as the guys all nodded and followed

You were walking when suddenly, your notebook fell and your papers scattered everywhere

“Crap!” You silently said as you kneeled down to pick them up

However what you failed to notice was that the team had continued to walk

You see where I’m going with this 👀

“Hey guys- oh no!” You said as you stood up, realizing there was every color of jersey surrounding you BUT black and white

You 👉🏻😐😳😢

“Ok Yn calm down, the team is somewhere,” you silently muttered to yourself as you wandered around giants

You felt like crying, scared and nervous because there were so many people around

You had to ask someone for help

Suddenly, you bumped into the back of someone

“I’m so sorry!” You said, tears in your eyes as she looked at you

“Oh it’s fine, hey are you ok?” She asked, gorgeous blue eyes watching you

You shook your head, eyes meeting hers

“Hey Kiyoko, I’ve got the bento boxes all sorted!” A blonde girl said, walking up to you

“What team do you work with?” The girl named Kiyoko asked

“I-I’m with Inarizaki,” you said as they both smiled

“Come with me and Yachi, we can take you to the gym,” Kiyoko said as Yachi stood beside you

“Thank you so much,” you say bashfully to the two pretty girls

Meanwhile…

“Ok Riseki, Ginjima can you help YN fill up the water bottles please?” Kita asks as they nod and look over to you

Only you’re not there 😅

They start looking all over for their precious bby

Please Ginjima even looks under his shoes incase he stepped on you 😭

“Umm Kita,” Riseki interrupts

“Yes,” Kita says looking at him

“YNs not here,” Riseki says as everyone stops

“What the hell? Where is she?” Kita says looking around everywhere for you

“Suna weren’t you walking with her?” Aran asks as Suna gulps

“She was with me just a a minute ago!” Suna says, now panicking too

“Oh my god and I was just starting to actually like her and you lost her?!?” Atsumu says as Osamu smacks the back of his head

Then they hear their opponents say something

“Has anyone seen Kiyoko and Yachi?” Their team captain says

“OH MY GOD WE HAVE A MANAGER KIDNAPPER!!!” Riseki yells as two of Karasunos memebers RUN from the gym

“We have to find Yn!” Aran shouts following them with the rest of the team

All that remains in the gym is Kita and Karasuno’s captain, Daichi

“We could just text them,” Daichi says as Kita nods

Back with you, you are enjoying talking with the two Karasuno managers

They both seem a little shy like you but they still manage a strong school

“The gym is just up this way-” Kiyoko says when you hear it

At first, it sounds like a stampede of elephants

Then you realize it’s just like 15 teenage boys racing toward you 😅

“YN OH MY GOD WE FOUND YOU!” Riseki says pulling you into a hug as your boys gather around you

“Are you hurt? Do you need help? Are you hungry?” Aran says panicking as you watch Kiyoko and Yachi fight off their team

You giggle a little, the boys taken a back

“I’m fine guys, I actually just made some friends!” You says smiling at Kiyoko and Yachi

Inarizaki rn 👉🏻😐😳🥹 our baby is growing up!

“Thanks Kiyoko and Yachi! I’ll see you in the gym!” You say, waving to the two girls as they follow you

You look over at Riseki and give him the biggest hug

Riseki rn 👉🏻😳

“Thanks for inviting me to be your team manager! Now let’s go kick some butt!” You say sweetly as the team stops

The team 👉🏻👁️💧👄💧👁️

No need to worry about the match Yn, I’m sure everything will be just fine 😌

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